When Mace Stewart reined in on the bluff overlooking Panhandle
Valley, he knew he was home. He had had enough of war and more than
enough of Yankees. He was home to rebuild his father's ranch. He'd heard
it had gone to pot when the old man died, but he meant to make it
One thing he hadn't banked on was no cooperation from the town
marshal when he went to claim his deed. "But, Mace, we thought you was
dead - killed in the war!"
And more - "Fellow turned up about a month ago with a letter from
you, a sort of deed. Had your signiature on it. Said you turned over the
place to him, nice and legal; gave him full ownership, too . . ."
The Marshal Of Pioche
By Nelson Nye
Arnie Page had just seventeen summers under his belt when he rode
into Pioche, a silver-boom camp in Nevada that was wilder than Tascosa,
Dodge City and Deadwood rolled into one. He was looking to pick up his
share of the free wealth in that town, but found that nobody would hire a
kid as green as him.
Until he gunned down one of the fastest postol-throwers in town. Then
the town fathers sat up and took notice. They pinned a marshal's star
on his hairless chest, with instructions to tame that hell-raising town.
As he buckled on his guns, Arnie wondered whether he would live to collect his first paycheck.
Covers are clean and bright. Nye side has a full-length wrinkle just
in from spine edge. Other side has one diagonal at bottom. Spine has two
creases, and two nubbed corners. Pages are tan. Binding is broken at
one of the creases.
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