“We don’t like troublemakers around these parts, Jones.” Sheriff Hilton Lipstache leaned against the split-rail fence and glared at the young man in front of…
Western stories for your wandering heart
Hugh Wesley - Writer Posts
The bread scratched like sand in Brad’s mouth. He could taste the blood from where the hard crust had cut his gums. He rubbed the…
It started as a slight tug, a little tickle about half an inch down from the corner of Gabe’s mouth. “You hold it right there,…
It was one of those endless summer days that seemed to stretch out into next week, but that somehow still never lasted quite long enough.…
The cold night wind howled like a lone wolf around Brody’s head. He shivered and stretched toward the orange glow of the campfire. He could…
The first rays of dawn winked over the campsite, and Dillon watched a wisp of steam stream against the orange and red sky. Coffee was…
The bag was heavier than it looked … no wonder the old man hadn’t wanted to carry it through the streets! Frank grunted as his…
It was one of those dead winter days when your mind just can’t work because the same cold, dull gray swallows the sky, the concrete…
“Watch where you’re going old, man.” Larry hated Christmas in the city. So many people clogging up the sidewalks. “Pardon me, sir,” the man said.…
There was nothing left to the day, and Abe was as spent as the sun winking out over Riggins Ridge. It had been more than…
