March, 2017

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Issue #90

Looking for free, tantalizing Tales of the Old West?
You're at the right place.


Read this month's Tales and vote for your favorite.
They'll appear in upcoming print volumes of The Best of Frontier Tales Anthologies!

Among the Heathens
by Joseph Andrew Hesch
One by one, the horse traders who brutally killed a young Cheyenne are found dead. Each of them bears wounds like those he gave the boy. Is the murdered youth's ghost hunting them down, or is it something even more dangerous?

* * *

by Von Kambro
A beautiful, silent woman catches the attention of a cowboy in a wild saloon, but once he's alone with her he realizes he'd better think twice before acting on his desire.

* * *

by Cal Campbell
Seeing the gunfighter dealing off the bottom of the deck, Gilmer pulled his Colt .45. The two men then proceeded to the street to finish their disagreement. Would Gilmer have a chance of surviving the duel with this well-known pistolero from Mexico?

* * *

The Chase
by Steven Crowden
The bank in Richmond is being robbed. The sheriff has just returned from a visit, there was nothing he could do. But he can go after them. He will, he does, but who will he find once he tracks them down?

* * *

Bat Masterson and Pud Galvin
(The Gunslinger and the Baseball Player)

by Steven G. Farrell
Bat Masterson meets ball player Pud Galvin at a poker game in San Francisco. After a night of drinking, Masterson offers to escort Galvin to Chicago for a game with the Buffalo Bison, but the gangs in San Francisco have other ideas. Can Bat get them both across half the country in time and in one piece?

* * *

One shot one kill
—the slowest gun in the west.

by Jeb Stuart
The story of the slowest—but deadliest—gun in the West.

* * *

Want all of this month's Western stories at once? Click here –

All the Tales

by Von Kambro


It was hot. The music was loud, the guys were louder, and the girls kept'em that way. The gunshots were drowned out from all the hootin' and hollerin' going on. Another wild night in the life a cowboy. It's not all drinking and dancing though. We get into some fights, and yes, it's usually over a pretty girl that winks from both sides of her face. It seems that the girls out here like get the guys goin'and flirt with two of them at the same time.

Bein' a cowboy ain't easy.

Being committed to just one girl is even harder.

You take what you can get where you can and don't look back, or think twice about it. Now I'm not sayin' all cowboys are cheatin' liars. No Sir. Most of us are, but some of us aint'. I like the company of one girl, and don't partake in pursuing two at the same time.

If I love one, I keep one.

That's my first rule. And if I leave her, I come back to her. That's my second rule, but I'm not sayin' all the girls are the same that way either. I know a lot of them are like tumbleweeds. They roll around until they bump into something and then leave after they're tossed back into the street.



I was watching this one gal. She was real quiet. Didn't talk or hardly say a word to anybody. She was part Indian or somethin' because she had real nice cheek bones, long dark silky hair and deep brown eyes. She looked kinda' innocent, almost to innocent to be in saloon with a bunch of yahoos that were so snockered up they didn't even know their own names. She seemed new to this kinda' thing. That's what I'm sayin by her being innocent. Like she never been in a saloon before, maybe never been out of her house. Her clothes were torn and dirty, but she was so pretty it didn't matter.

One after another the drunk cowpokes kept comin' after her. She'd stand there like a rock. They'd try pulling her away, but she stood there. Like her feet were nailed to the floor. Drunk cowboys always think they got more muscle when they're drunk, but they couldn't get her to move.

I waited for them to leave her alone, and when the moment was right I walked up to her and introduced myself. She didn't look at me or say a single word. I waited a few seconds and gave her some kind words about how pretty she was. She wasn't responsive even after that, and most women will give you a yay or nay of some kind when you give'em a compliment, but not this one. No sir.

She was different.

Cold. Like desert ice.

I didn't know what to do, so I left her. I went outside and looked up at the stars. I always wondered how all them stars got up there. They're so far away, but yet they still keep glowing enough for me too see'em down here.

I looked back at the saloon and could see someone walk out. It was that girl. That silent, cold girl.

She was walkin' toward me, but still had that stare. She was lookin' at me, but goin' right through me. As she walked I noticed she a limp. Something was wrong with her foot. I felt bad for her. Maybe she was lookin' for a doctor in there, but even he was drunk and acted more like a crazy desert dog than a doctor.

She kept on walking right past me, but I followed her. I stayed a few paces behind because I knew from hunting mountain lions that when they're injured they can still turn on you and claw you to death. Now I'm not sayin' she was gonna do that, but I know the tricks of the street as well and I wasn't o sure yet if she was just actin' or leading me into a jump.

I've been jumped before. I know that girls will lead a man out to an alley and then her guy will jump out and take some unsuspecting cowboy's coins and then knock him on the head with his own whiskey bottle!

This gal kept walkin' for quite awhile. She finally stopped on the edge of town and then stood there and looked up at the stars. It was pretty dark out and it looked like even more stars were up there. I walked up to her while unlatching my pistol.

A soon as I was within an arms distance I told her that the stars were pretty, but not as pretty as she was. She turned and looked at me and let loose with some laughter.

For the first time in my life I didn't know what to think, or what to do.

What she was laughing at, I don't know. I scanned the area for any dark figures that might be comin' my way. If this was gonna' be a jump, it sure as hell was strange place to do one.

Once her laughter faded way, I asked her what she was laughing at. She got all serious again and stared off into the desert and was lookin' at a coyote that had its sniffer on the ground.

I told her we shouldn't be out here because this is Coyote time. It won't be long and he'll go sit on top of a hill and call out to his friends and then we'll be tryin' to out run 20 legs and 16 fangs, and with the dead foot she's got, she ain't gonna make it too far.

She started laughin' again.

Ain't never seen a woman like this before.

Well, she stopped laughin' and then actually spoke a few words. She said her name was Tamaya and that her foot wasn't broken. Now what's goin' on with this woman? I didn't ask her no questions and she laughs at serious stuff. She was cold and didn't even say a word awhile back, and now she's tellin' me her name and what's not wrong with her foot.

She pointed to something way out in the desert and said she lives out there. She just wanted to come into town and see what happens on a Saturday night. I told her what happens on a Saturday night ain't any different than any other day of the week. They're pretty much the same.

Well, we had a nice little conversation and I asked why she was so quiet and what was wrong with her foot.

Well, she told me there wasn't anything wrong with it.

Nothin' at all.

It was just an act to get some attention and see who'd follow her out here. I told her nobody followed her, but she pointed at me, and I reminded her that I was already outside.

It's more like she followed me.

She shook her head back and forth, but didn't say why I was wrong for pointin' that out.

All she told me was that when she was in the saloon she wanted to be as quiet as a mouse because she knew that once she started talkin' she'd probably start drinkin' and then no man would want her.

I told her there were a lot of cowboys in there that wanted her real bad, but she kept bein' so cold they couldn't deal with it and let her be.

I was tired of talkin' about what was and flat out asked her if she wanted some company tonight.

She whispered yes, and then tugged at her clothes. I told her they were not too good and if she wanted some new ones I could get her some.

She said no twice as she began to undress.

I covered my eyes and peeked from between my fingers and was pleased at what I saw, but I felt a little guilty for bein' here with her. I asked if she'd put her dress back on and she did.

You see fella's, sometimes you gotta test the boundaries to Know where you're limits are.

She didn't like that I asked her to get re-dressed, but I've got a girl and I ain't gonna do nothin' that ain't right with her.

I got slapped in the face and she even shot some spit at me, and I told her maybe I deserved that.

She strutted off into the night and I could hear her cussin' as she went. I coulda' roped her back in and made love to her under the stars, but I let her go.

Yep. She was real pretty.

Prettier than the stars she walkin' under.

The End

Von Kambro is a screenwriter that also writes short stories and have just completed a collection of Western Short Stories titled: New American Western.
His Website: Author Website: New American Western - Information

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