Gunsmoke & Grit: 'Blood Fever' by Jake Logan

Tonight, we saddle up and ride into the rugged world of John Slocum—a gunfighter who's perpetually caught in the whirlwind of chaos, always arriving at the right place but the wrong time, plunging headfirst into deadly scrapes while simultaneously managing a dalliance or two with the local ladies of ill repute. Slocum is no ordinary hero; he’s the star of the first American western paperback series under the bold banner of “adult western,” launched by Playboy Press in 1975 and galloping through to 2014, with its final entries published by Jove. A staggering total of 437 books, including the “Giant” installments, make up this raucous saga. The name “Jake Logan” was a mere house pen name, shrouding the creativity of at least thirty-four different authors crafting Slocum’s misadventures.

This brings me to my latest literary escapade: Blood River, boldly advertised on the cover as the 166th installment, though, in truth, it holds the spot of book 156, having been released in December 1992 by Berkley. The identity of the true author remains elusive, wrapped in mystery like a lonesome cowboy's faded bandana. If anyone has the lowdown on who penned this one, do throw a rope my way!

Now, you'd think that breezing through a 184-page tale shouldn't take me over a week, but for reasons I can't quite pin down, I struggled to get into Blood Fever. Don’t get me wrong—I'm an ardent fan of Slocum's brazen spirit! Yet, the by-the-numbers narrative felt as though the author was working from a checklist handed down by some uninspired publisher. It lacked the spark and fire one expects from a Western; it was as if the writer hadn’t much care for what they were crafting, perhaps never having penned a Western or, dare I say, even skimmed through a Slocum adventure. It's not that the story is utterly bad—it just feels like one of those less-than-stellar episodes of Gunsmoke—the ones that, while not your favorites, still manage to stick with you like a stubborn tumbleweed.

The tale unfolds with classic clarity: Slocum finds himself with the blood of one Halsey boy on his hands, killed in self-defense, while a second lies maimed, leaving him to confront the entire inbred clan of vicious vipers. What’s more, he has to keep a Yankee lady, Julia Conway, and her beleaguered father alive amidst the ensuing bloodshed. And let me tell you, the Halseys are as wicked as they come, with looks to match their cruel hearts. But nothing can deter John Slocum from evening the odds—one Halsey at a time.

Right from the opening scene, the action is a wild tempest. Slocum is thrown into the fray, taking shots and returning fire before making the proverbial leap into bed with a woman he’s known for barely two heartbeats. And let’s not forget another lady waiting in the wings, her only purpose to add another notch to his gun belt. Classic Slocum fare, complete with inbred villains, a witch doctor brandishing questionable magic, and an abundance of mindless violence that seasoned readers have come to expect. The antagonists were entertaining enough, and I felt a certain satisfaction as Slocum dispatched them one by one.

In the grand scheme of things, Blood Fever turns out to be a decent read, but it suffers from pacing and narrative issues that kept me from fully adoring it. Still, it’s not the worst book to pass the time. If you’re a fan of the Slocum series—as I am—it's definitely worth your while, even if it takes you a week to traverse this rough and tumble tale. So, grab your hat, dust off those boots, and prepare for a ride through the highs and lows of the Wild West! ╌★★★✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess