FROM THE KING OF
THE SEXY, VIOLENT, FAST-PACED, HARD-DRIVING, ALL-ACTION WESTERN!
There’s a small war
brewing in Carson’s Wash. On one side is the beautiful widow of the man Butters
is accused of murdering. On the other side is the brutal saloon and mercantile
owner, George Hill, who, Prophet is astonished to learn, is the widow’s own
father! Phoebe Dahlstrom believes her father hired Charlie Butters to murder
her rich husband, and she’ll stop at nothing to see both Butters and George
Hill stretching hemp from the same tree.
There are so many
factions at cross odds in Carson’s Wash, that Prophet doesn’t know which end is
up, much less who’s trying to fill him so full of lead he’ll rattle when he
walks!
From the book:
Standing
naked in his tub now, Prophet aimed carefully and shot the third assailant
through the man’s right temple. The man’s head jerked back sharply. Prophet
heard his neck snap. The man plopped onto his ass and then onto his back and
lay jerking near a dusty mesquite.
Prophet
stood in the tub, dripping.
His
own powder smoke wafted around him.
He
looked around, gun still raised, listening for more assailants.
Footsteps
rose beyond the front of the cabin. Turning around in the tub, Prophet
exchanged his empty Colt for his twelve gauge Richards coach gun, and clicked
both hammers back as he squared his shoulders at the front door.
Someone
was approaching, walking now.
The
footsteps stopped. Louisa edged a look around the door’s right side, peering
into the bathhouse. She held a pretty, silver-chased Colt up high near her
shoulder, hammer cocked.
Prophet
depressed his shotgun’s hammers.
Louisa
looked at the dead man lying near her, outside the front door. She looked at
the dead man lying half in and half out of his bloody tub beside Prophet. She
looked past Prophet toward the third dead assailant lying just beyond the
washhouse’s back door.
She
looked Prophet’s naked body up and down, glanced at the black water at his
ankles, curled one half of her upper lip, lowered her Colt, and said, “You
clean up right well, Lou.”
Prophet
turned to the man who’d tried to give him a haircut. “I thought that hombre was sleepin’ just a little too sound!”
