It's been a while since my last Western read. Life's little complications can often overshadow the joy of blogging, and my blog, more of a passion hobby than a primary focus, has taken a backseat amid recent events. My father's surgery in late April has been a significant distraction. As he prepares for another operation, my time and energy have dwindled. It has led to a reading slump that’s been quite the unwelcome guest. But here I am, ready to share my thoughts on The Last Ride of the Dirty Creek Gang by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: ghostwriters. The new Johnstone’s books are notorious for the mystery surrounding their authorship, and I can't help but wonder—who’s really behind the pen? If anyone has insights, I’m all ears. This particular book hails from the March 2026 release batch. With the decline of mass-market paperbacks, we’re now treated to a trilogy of titles every other month, albeit at a steeper price and larger format. My local Walmart has stopped carrying these books altogether, squeezing their book section to a mere shadow of its former self, prompting me to turn to Amazon ^[*]. 

Hello, fellow Friday 56ers! 

It's been a while since I last participated in the Friday 56 (hosted weekly by My Head is Full of Books). What can I say? I've been busy with a lot of things. My 70-year-old father had a knee replacement two days ago and was released from the hospital yesterday. Unfortunately, there’s no home health care available due to issues with insurance and Medicare, which do not seem to cooperate, especially in our area. I won’t go into more details now; maybe I’ll discuss it in my next Watering Hole, which is my renamed Sunday Post series.

I took the Western paperback The Last Ride of the Dirty Creek Gang by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone with me to the hospital but never opened it. Instead, I watched Blazing Saddles for the millionth time on my Kindle Fire tablet. William W. Johnstone has long since passed away, and J.A. Johnstone is his niece. I'm not sure how much involvement she had in writing this book aside from having her name on the cover. As with all new Johnstone books, the copyright page states that the Johnstone family hired an unnamed author to outline and create new stories that are published under William W. Johnstone's name. However, it doesn’t specify whether this "creator" actually ghostwrites the books or if other authors handle the newer Johnstone titles. For now, I’ll assume it’s the latter until I know more.

The gunslinger Clint Adams is back in The Gunsmith: Freaktown, the 495th installment of the adult western series, published by Speaking Volumes. This series began in 1982 with Macklin's Women, written by Robert J. Randisi under the pseudonym J.R. Roberts. Following Randisi's passing in 2024, his stepson, Marcus Pelegrimas, has taken over, creating new stories inspired by a query that Randisi submitted for future installments before his death. Pelegrimas is not new to the genre; he has also written other Westerns under the name Marcus Galloway. 

As with every Gunsmith installment, Freaktown promises a mix of grit and intrigue, along with the relentless pursuit of justice in a lawless land. This series stands as a testament to the resilience of storytelling, continuing even after the original author’s lifetime, and serves as a reminder that the spirit of the West lives on through these narratives.

The story opens with a jarring discovery: Harriet Sands has been gruesomely murdered, her daughter Pearl left dazed in the wake of horror. The scene is stark and chilling, setting the tone for what is to come. As Clint, our ever-reluctant hero, joins the sheriff's posse to investigate, he is greeted by a tableau of violence that threatens to haunt him. Though Clint is no stranger to brutality, the savagery of this crime pushes even his hardened sensibilities to the limit.

Welcome back, fellow aficionados of the Wild West. Today, we’re diving into the newly minted sequel, The Maverick Marshal ^[*], by R.J. Sloane, a follow-up to The Rustler Hunter ^[*] —if you haven’t caught that review yet, it’s worth a peek. Like its predecessor, this installment is a Christian Western, offering a clean-cut narrative reminiscent of Roy Rogers’ adventures while encapsulating that gritty, pulpy essence found in the vintage magazines of the 1930s and 1940s. 

Set in Arizona in 1899, the story revolves around Deputy U.S. Marshal Flynn Harper, who has built his reputation on one unyielding principle: bring them in dead or alive. When a federal warrant for A.C. Beaumont, a master swindler draining the railroads dry, lands on his desk, Flynn rushes to Holbrook, expecting a straightforward arrest.

However, what he encounters is a town ensnared in a web of deception. Everything appears just a bit too perfect, the witnesses seem far too rehearsed, and the frightened shopkeeper’s daughter is hell-bent on protecting a man she insists is innocent.

As Flynn delves deeper, the plot thickens, ultimately guiding him to an unexpected revelation: his own past. In a world where justice often hangs by a thread—sometimes literally—Flynn’s most formidable adversary proves to be not the outlaw he’s pursuing, but the very system he’s sworn to uphold.

Today, we explore No Smoke Without Fire: A Harlequin Town Western Mystery, the inaugural book in a new series by Gary Diamond and D.O. Michael and published by Dusty Saddle Publishing. The cover reads, “with Special Guest Culpepper, Texas Bounty Hunter,” a nod to a character who also struts his stuff in the Culpepper: Texas Bounty Hunter series by Diamond and Paul L. Thompson.

Set against the dusty backdrop of Harlequin, Texas, the story revolves around Sheriff Matt Carson, a devoted family man navigating life in a tight-knit community. Just as the town’s annual dance kicks off, a brutal murder sends shockwaves through what was supposed to be a night of revelry. Sheriff Carson is faced with a web of suspects, each harboring secrets that could unravel the fabric of their close-knit town. As the investigation unravels, the Carson family finds themselves ensnared in the very heart of the mystery, with danger lurking at every turn. And then there’s Culpepper, the bounty hunter, who rides into Harlequin on the trail of a dangerous fugitive. Are these killings somehow intertwined, or is there a more sinister threat hiding in plain sight? Who can Sheriff Carson trust amidst this chaos?

Today, I’m reviewing the audiobook The Widowmaker: Invitation to a Hanging ^[*], penned by the late Robert J. Randisi, who authored The Gunsmith series under the pseudonym J.R. Roberts. Invitation to a Hanging marks the inaugural entry in The Widowmaker series, first published by Pocket Star Books in December 2003. I do own the second installment, Turnback Creek, which followed in 2004, in paperback. A third volume, Dead Weight, teased within the pages of the second book, remains shrouded in mystery—never to see the light of day, likely due to the tepid sales of its predecessors. Was Dead Weight merely a concept, or was it fully drafted? The truth eludes me.

The audiobook adaptation, released in 2005 on CD and later available on Audible by Recorded Books, is brought to life by the late Richard Ferrone, with a runtime of 6 hours and 16 minutes.

The narrative unfurls around John Locke, a man molded by the trials of his past as a lawman, bounty hunter, and gun-for-hire. Now, he's attempting to carve out an existence by taking on perilous odd jobs that only someone of his notorious reputation could manage. His newest journey leads him to Fredericksburg, Texas, where he assumes the role of bastonero, essentially the Master of Ceremonies, for the hanging of the infamous Ignacio Delgado, a man painted in shades of both villainy and martyrdom. In the beginning, Locke finds himself fending off Delgado’s loyalists, who view their leader as part saint, part Robin Hood. Yet, as tension mounts, Locke's perspective shifts; respect for Delgado begins to seep into his philosophies, even as he unravels the sheriff’s ulterior motives behind the hanging—a classic standoff brewing like storm clouds on the horizon.

As the weekend rolls in, I find myself drawn into the vivid landscapes of the Wild West through the lens of Stephen Hunter's latest novel, The Gun Man Jackson Swagger ^[*]. For those unfamiliar, Hunter is a lauded figure in the literary realm, a Pulitzer Prize winner for Criticism and the former chief film critic of The Washington Post. Known for his non-fiction work, American Gunfighter, and an impressive collection of novels collectively known as the "Swaggerverse," he is a master storyteller. While I've long been aware of his work and origins from Missouri, I must admit that I hadn’t yet ventured into his fiction until I serendipitously stumbled upon his newest offering at the library.

Set against the sun-bleached backdrop of a drought-stricken 1890s Southwest, The Gun Man Jackson Swagger introduces us to Jack, an aging yet formidable gunman seeking employment at the thriving Callahan ranch. With a weathered exterior and the sharp instincts of a seasoned fighter, Jack presents his extraordinary skills with one of Winchester’s latest models to the skeptical foreman. Clearly, a sharpshooter is a valuable asset for both Colonel Callahan and head gunman Tom Voth.

However, Jack’s motives veil a deeper mystery. Upon discovering the mysterious death of a young cowboy on the ranch, his instincts compel him to investigate, unraveling a web of dark conspiracies tightly woven with the Callahan fortune. It’s a tale of survival and justice, where six-guns and quick draw reign supreme amidst the treachery of the Old West.

Welcome back, fellow lovers of the Wild West. Today, I want to delve into Cabin Gulch ^[*] by Zane Grey, a mesmerizing nearly five-hour audiobook ^[*] from GraphicAudio. Originally penned in 1915, this tale likely graced the pages of a Pulp magazine in serialized format—though I must admit, I couldn't track down the specifics of its initial publication. If anyone has that information, please share it in the comments. It was subsequently retitled The Border Legion and published in book form in 1916 by Harper & Row. Remarkably, the story has been adapted into film five times, the most-famous being The Last Round-Up in 1934, starring Randolph Scott.

As with many Westerns that started their lives in magazines, Cabin Gulch underwent various changes in its transformation to The Border Legion. Thankfully, GraphicAudio chose to adapt the original 1915 text, giving us an uncensored version of Grey's gripping story.

At the heart of Cabin Gulch ^[*] is Joan Randle, a young woman driven by anger who sends Jim Cleve into the lawless mining frontier of Idaho Territory to test his courage. But when she regrets their quarrel, she sets off to bring him back, only to fall prey to the infamous bandit Jack Kells.

Kells is a character drenched in menace, willing to kill—not hesitating even against his own men—to possess Joan. The plot thickens with a burgeoning gold strike at Alder Creek, enticing Kells and his gang to descend upon the miners with malicious intent. The intensifying emotional landscape for Joan is the crushing realization that Jim has allied himself with Kells's nefarious crew. Grey weaves a powerful tapestry of tragedy, romance, historical detail, and flickers of hope that resonate even today.

The newest installment in the First Mountain Man series, titled Preacher's Hell, arrives with a mix of excitement and disappointment. This installment marks a significant departure, being the first in the series not to grace the mass-market paperback format, a casualty of publishing trends that seem designed to cater to shifting reader preferences and, frankly, confound loyal audiences. In an odd twist, the new paperback dimensions—5.47 x 8.21 inches—are now the industry standard, forcing Pinnacle to reassess its entire line of Johnstone Westerns. Gone are the days of two or three releases per month; this fully embraces a slower pace, with new titles emerging every other month starting in March 2026. The price hike to $15.99 for each paperback also stings, though a glimmer of hope lies in preordering discounts, as I discovered on Amazon ^[*]. Yet the landscape for Westerns feels as barren as the dry plains they depict. My local Walmart, once a treasure trove for Johnstone fans, now offers nothing but the latest watered-down YA fantasies, the kind that languish on shelves, untouched and unloved. Despite an employee's dismissal of Westerns as outdated, I can’t help but recall that the new titles are always sold out quickly in my neck of the woods—the genre is far from dead.

Preacher's Hell ^[*] begins at a desolate trading post nestled in the Bitterroot Mountains. At first, it offers the warmth of friendship with familiar faces, Audie and Nighthawk. But tranquility is short-lived. A brutal gang of thieves descends upon a young Indian woman and her grandfather, igniting a chain reaction of violence that shatters the moment. In the aftermath, with chaos swirling, the gang's leader, a sinister figure named Mack Ozark, slips through their fingers, leaving behind grief and a haunting charge. Before the woman dies, she entrusts Preacher with a mysterious bundle, revealing two blond-haired, blue-eyed infants—twins, undeniably precious, yet not her own.

Hello, fellow Friday 56ers! 

This week, I'm featuring The Gun Man Jackson Swagger by Stephen Hunter, a 2025 release that my local library recently added to their shelves. I'm somewhat familiar with Stephen Hunter but didn't realize he had written a Western. I haven't started reading it yet, and I haven’t checked the blurb either; I prefer the plot to be a surprise when I finally read it. I'm not sure when I will share my thoughts. The earliest I can post a review would be next weekend if I don’t have anything else for the Gunsmoke & Grit spot. If not, I’ll save the review for a later weekend when my schedule is clearer.

I have a complex relationship with Louis L'Amour—a blend of admiration and exasperation that reflects the dual nature of his legacy. My adopted paternal grandfather was a devoted fan, and our family would eagerly gift him his latest works for birthdays, Father’s Day, and Christmas, until declining eyesight curtailed his reading. After he passed, I found myself the custodian of not just his collection, but also a few titles from my late maternal grandmother. Over the years, I’ve amassed my own collection of L'Amour works, filling my shelves with almost every title he published. That’s the love part, or perhaps more accurately, the appreciation. Then comes the hate part: I believe Louis L'Amour is overrated. His books were omnipresent during my childhood, squeezing out shelf space in bookstores where other Western authors could have thrived. I understand the marketplace—demand shapes inventory—but it still frustrates me to see L'Amour’s name dominate as if no one else in the genre could compete. Sure, he crafted some notable stories, but to my mind, he was a master of the “pulp” short story. His talents shine brightest in shorter forms; as a novelist, he ranks merely above average. I respect his contributions and recognize his place in literary history, but I'd argue that Zane Grey is the true giant of Western fiction—that’s just my opinion. With that in mind, I'm returning to L'Amour's books, starting with Trouble Shooter.

Most L'Amour aficionados already know this, but for anyone who doesn’t: like many writers in this genre, L'Amour began his career crafting short stories for pulp magazines. By 1950, he earned recognition that led him to write new Hopalong Cassidy adventures for Hopalong Cassidy's Western Magazine, which eventually transitioned into published hardcovers. Initially, he based his first two books on the style of Clarence Mulford, the original author of Hopalong. However, when the magazine folded after just two issues, L'Amour had to overhaul these titles to align more closely with the sanitized cinematic version that dominated television and film at the time. He continued this adaptation for the subsequent books, ultimately publishing four volumes in total.

Well, here I am again, riding back into the world of Westerns. Now, some of you might have thought I’d hung up my spurs and ridden off into the sunset, abandoning the Western genre entirely. Fear not! Life sometimes pulls me in different directions, but I assure you, I’m still firmly planted in the saddle. This week, I’m tackling The Gunsmith: The Jingle Bell Trail ^[*], a “Special Christmas Edition” adventure published in 2020. And yes, I hear your thoughts: "Isn’t Christmas over?" Technically, yes, the tinsel has been packed away. I planned to read this under the glow of twinkling lights, but fate had other designs. I finally got around to it between January 1st and 2nd—about a month ago now, so my recollection may be a bit dusty, but let’s give it a shot!

As the holiday season approaches, our rugged hero, Clint Adams, rides into Buckley, North Dakota—a town that appears to have been pulled right out of a snow globe—festooned with garlands draping from light posts and adorning the windows and balconies of every building like a Christmas card come to life. But before Clint can even hang his hat at the local hotel, he’s intercepted by Sheriff Owens from neighboring Goodwill, who is desperate for assistance in tracking down three cold-blooded killers. The sheriff's wish? To get home to his young boy in time for Christmas. Clint, ever the good Samaritan, agrees to lend a hand. But as fate would have it, things take a dark turn, thrusting our gunslinger into a treacherous journey along the Jingle Bell Trail. The stakes? Not just saving one little boy’s Christmas, but also rescuing an entire town that teeters on the brink of a fatal holiday.

As the holiday season approached, I had grand ambitions to read and review the collection of Christmas Westerns penned under the Johnstone name. I even had copies of each one waiting for me. But alas, life had other plans. After enduring a nearly month-long illness, my reading hopes were dashed, and my energy levels were on par with a hibernating bear. Still, I managed to saddle up for one ride—A Colorado Christmas.

The story unfolds at the Sugarloaf Ranch, where Smoke and Sally Jensen are eagerly preparing to welcome their friend Preacher home for the holidays, blissfully unaware that he’s followed by a storm brewing with trouble. Picture it: an old trapper named Eagle-Eye, driven by a thirst for vengeance, gets rescued by the Jensen brothers, Ace and Chance, from a band of ruthless outlaws. Then there’s Luke Jensen, a relentless bounty hunter hot on their trail. Add to that mix, Jim Bleeker—a freshly liberated criminal mastermind scheming to settle his score with the sheriff of Big Rock, Colorado. Now that’s a recipe for chaos!

With a snowstorm howling outside, a community on the brink of disaster, and a showdown simmering just beneath the surface, these stubborn pioneers find themselves united by fate and fury, ready to forge a semblance of peace on Earth. But they plan to fight for it—with guns, grit, and a whole lot of glory. Because this Christmas, the greatest gift of all may just be… survival.

It’s curious how the lens through which we view a book can shift radically depending on our emotional and physical state. Perhaps it’s just me, but I know my mood dances hand-in-hand with my thoughts about whatever narrative I’m reading. This brings me to Tom's Crossing ^[*] by Mark Z. Danielewski—an ambitious tome stretching over 1,200 pages, which I dared to tackle while feeling like I’d been run over by a freight train, thanks to a relentless case of strep throat and bronchitis. Was my opinion colored by my hazy, medicated brain? Undoubtedly, but in the moments when I could focus, I believed that even a sober reading wouldn’t shift my feelings too much. It's an odd twist, but for all its literary pretensions, I found myself oddly drawn to parts of it.

On the surface, the plot reads like a straightforward Western: in the small town of Orvop, Utah, nestled in the shadowy embrace of the mountains, a horrific crime in the fall of 1982 reverberates through the community, but it’s the extraordinary events beyond city limits that linger in collective memory. Nobody anticipated the dead would rise, yet rise they did. Nobody saw a mountain tumbling down like a stone-cold giant, yet it came crashing. And nobody expected a spectacle of courage that would leave an indelible mark on all hearts and minds associated with the Katanogos massif or the tranquil Pillars Meadow. As one brave Orvop high school teacher poignantly noted—mere days before her untimely passing—“Fer sure no one expected Kalin March to look Old Porch dead in the eye and say, ‘You get what you deserve when you ride with cowards.'"

When I picked up Tom's Crossing ^[*], I was stepping into a literary world that had garnered a fair share of praise from eager reviewers who seemed to echo each other a little too closely—leading me to wonder if they were all using the same playbook, perhaps run by an AI or chained to their loyalty to Danielewski. Shockingly, I had never encountered his work before this novel; I can almost feel the gasps of disbelief echoing from the literary community. “You’ve never heard of Danielewski?” Yep, you heard that right! I approached this story with fresh eyes, wanting to jump into its narrative without the weight of prior expectations.

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.

Hello, my fellow Friday 56ers! It feels good to be back after taking a little hiatus last week. Life threw me a curveball with my mother’s surgery on the 12th, but I'm happy to report that she’s back home and on the mend. Taking care of her and juggling other responsibilities kept me busy—I'll spill the full details in my upcoming Sunday Post, so stay tuned for that.

For those who might not know, 'The Friday 56' is a bookish meme hosted by My Head is Full of Books, where we share snippets from our current or future reads to indulge our fellow book lovers. This week, I’m featuring the sprawling pages of Tom's Crossing by Mark Z. Danielewski—a hefty neo-western that tips the scale at around 1,229 pages.

Yep, it's a behemoth! I’m gearing up to tackle this literary mountain over the next few days, with an eye towards posting my review on November 29th for a special Gunsmoke & Grit feature. Wish me luck; I have a feeling I’m going to need it!

Through Gunsmoke & Grit, I'm excited to share my musings on fictional Wild West tales. However, I occasionally wander into the realm of nonfiction, like with Brothers of the Gun: Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and a Reckoning in Tombstone by Mark Lee Gardner—set to gallop its way into bookstores on November 11, 2025, courtesy of Dutton. I was fortunate enough to snag a digital ARC from NetGalley many moons ago, and I deliberately refrained from reviewing it until just the right moment, when the publication date was close enough for a proper showdown.

Given the title, you can probably guess that this book is about the lives of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday—those legendary gunfighters whose names have been etched into the annals of history thanks to a thirty-second shootout at a little spot known as the O.K. Corral. But their storied friendship didn't kick off in that fateful moment in 1881; oh no! It all began back in the raucous cattle town of Dodge City three years earlier. Picture this: Wyatt, an assistant city marshal, is outnumbered by a pack of rowdy, armed cowboys. Meanwhile, Doc is comfortably perched at a monte table in the Long Branch saloon, a man of leisure—until he spots Wyatt's trouble. In true heroic fashion, Doc bursts out, two revolvers drawn, shouting, “Throw up your hands!” Startled, the cowboys comply, and off they are led to jail. Wyatt credited Doc with saving his skin that day, igniting a friendship as volatile as gunpowder.

If anyone's curious, let me set the record straight: I’m not parting with the Gunsmoke & Grit posts anytime soon. Life threw a couple of curveballs my way last month—too many reviews of non-Western books and a persistent flu bug that refused to take a hike. But fear not, those days are behind me. My goal is to serve up a fresh Western fiction review every Saturday for the foreseeable future. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s time to talk about today’s review: These Men Chose Hell, penned by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone. Or, let’s be honest, likely a ghostwriter or a cabal of ghostwriters who conjured this tale from the ether. It’s a sequel to Fort Misery, and I must say, it reads as if it were penned by a different hand altogether. As I traverse the shadows of my mind, the prose felt just a touch off, like an old photograph that’s been left too long in the sun. Maybe it’s just me.

Fort Misery—the name alone evokes an image of grim determination. Here, the lowliest dregs of the U.S. Army stand guard against a hellscape of lawless desert, facing off against the most sadistic scourges of the Wild West. It’s a brutal truth: sometimes, it takes a bad man with a gun to confront another. These aren’t your classic “good guys.” Instead, they’re a ragtag band of deserters, thieves, mutineers, and the like, none of whom are exactly examples of virtue. Condemned soldiers in an overstretched army, their choices are grim: death by hanging or serving their time in this hell on earth. They chose hell. Nestled at the far reaches of the Yuma Desert, Fort Grierson attracts trouble like a moth to a flame. Daily skirmishes with marauding Apaches and gunslinging outlaws are the norm, and the men fortifying the place are barely better. Hence, the notorious nickname: Fort Misery. When a gaggle of professors arrives at the fort, all hell breaks loose. The men of Fort Misery must uncover the lurking menace before they all end up meeting a grisly fate...

I pose this question to any adventurers of Western fiction who might stumble across this post: which authors do you suspect are channeling their talents into the novels of William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone? It feels improbable that a solitary writer could craft such a vast array of stories each year. With the staggering diversity of narrative styles at play, there must be a cadre of ghostwriters lurking in the shadows—unless my skepticism is unfounded, and perhaps there's just one extremely prolific author at work.

This brings us to today’s pick from the Gunsmoke & Grit selection: Fort Misery, attributed to the Johnstone duo and unleashed upon us by Pinnacle in 2023. Now, don’t be fooled into thinking this is your run-of-the-mill Wild West saga; I'd classify it as a slice of historical fiction teetering on the edge of ferment. It opens with a historical note but skips the author's note, recounting the legend of a log house erected by the army in Prescott in 1865. This dwelling was meant for Governor John N. Goodwin in the newly minted Arizona Territory. Not quite a fort, its infamous second resident, Judge Howard—a real piece of work—exercised a ruthless version of justice, which eventually earned the place its mocking moniker, Fort Misery. Tales swirl that the house was later transformed into a boardinghouse, run by a woman known only as the Virgin Mary. Supposedly, due to her relentless charity, she served up culinary creations so woeful that they could challenge the bravest of appetites. If she ever existed, her true name was Mary Brown—a ghost of a kitchen long forgotten.

Tonight, we’re venturing into the rugged world of Molly and the Indian Agent, a thrilling installment in the Molly Owens series penned by Stephen Overholser, the middle son of the esteemed western author Wayne D. Overholser. Now, I have to set the record straight—despite what those internet trolls might claim, this is the third entry in the series, not the sixth. In a baffling twist, the book order got shuffled during early 2000s reprints in large print, resulting in some readers wrongly believing book three is the last. This particular yarn was released in November 1982 by Bantam Books, and it deserves to be appreciated in all its rightful glory.

Now, let’s talk plot: Molly Owens is no ordinary heroine; she’s an ace operative for the Fenton Investigative Agency, with a penchant for galloping into trouble. This time, she rides into the bleak town of Crowheart on a mission to solve a murder but winds up embroiled in a more significant conflict simmering in the Wyoming wilderness. Pioneer rancher Isaiah Holcomb has been left for dead on his own land, and the locals are quick to blame the young Shoshone warriors, who are perceived as threats eager to unleash bloody chaos. But Molly, with her sharp instincts, suspects there's something more sinister at play—an insidious plot by the Indian agent designed to drive the Shoshone from their land for his clandestine gain.

Proof is all she needs, though finding the true murderer will put her on a treacherous path—one that would take her into the heart of a Shoshone encampment where no white man—and certainly no woman—would dare to tread. Molly is about to embark on a journey where she might either ride back triumphantly with her killer in hand or find her blonde scalp swinging from a Shoshone war belt. Talk about high stakes, right?