Owlhoot trail

H. P. Jeffers

For an eastern greenhorn, Harry Tyrone had sand in his craw a-plenty. Fired from a New York City newspaper for barroom brawling, Tyrone had traveled west to write cheap dime novels about the wild and wooly frontier. But it wasn't until he rode into Carrizo Springs, Texas, the Tyrone learned unless he wanted to wind up ownin'a patch six feet under, the sword-or a double-barreled Greener-was a far sight mightier than the pen.

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