Charles Boeckman Presents: The Wild West

By Pro Se Press

No period in American History was as untamed, dangerous, and exciting as what we refer to as ‘The Wild West’. And no man wrote gunslingers, lawmen, and ordinary folks made extraordinary in lawless cowtowns and harsh landscapes like Charles Boeckman. And now, those heroes crafted first by Boeckman in classic Western Pulp magazines live again in new tales from Pro Se Productions. Charles Boeckman Presents The Wild West!

Authors Phillip Drayer Duncan and Terry Alexander load their six guns with new stories featuring Boeckman’s distinct characters of the West. Ride along with men who make life and death choices on the turn of a hat and card, the slip of the tongue, or the wrong look. The western is a cornerstone of American fiction and Charles Boeckman’s legacy as one of its best storytellers lives on in Charles Boeckman Presents The Wild West. From Pro Se Productions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Jan 26, 2015

Pro Se Press

Based in Batesville, Arkansas, Pro Se Productions has become a leader on the cutting edge of New Pulp Fiction in a very short time.Pulp Fiction, known by many names and identified as being action/adventure, fast paced, hero versus villain, over the top characters and tight, yet extravagant plots, is experiencing a resurgence like never before. And Pro Se Press is a major part of the revival, one of the reasons that New Pulp is growing by leaps and bounds.

Book preview

CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS:

THE WILD WEST

Published by Pro Se Press

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Charles Boeckman Presents The Wild West

Copyright © 2015 Pro Se Productions

Under licensed agreement with Charles & Pattie Boeckman, Inc.

All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

THE RETURN OF THE BAD MAN FROM BOSTON

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

BEN SCOBEE’S REVENGE

by Terry Alexander

About the Authors

THE RETURN OF THE BAD MAN FROM BOSTON

By Phillip Drayer Duncan

Thunder roared as the bullets flew. Rounds zipped overhead, smacking against the building behind him but never finding their mark. He dove into cover behind a horse trough and drew his own iron. There was a satisfying click as his expert hands thumbed the hammer back.

There were six of them in all, but that wouldn’t be enough. He was too good and they knew it. That was why the ambushed him. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight. They should have brought more men.

He came out of cover fanning his hammer and fingering his trigger in rapid succession. He was so fast all three shots shared one rapport. Three bullets fired. Three men fell dead in the dusty street. Now there was only three. It didn’t seem fair.

Just before he pulled out of cover a familiar laugh tore through the sky like the crack of a whip. He knew that voice. It was the biggest meanest outlaw in the state. His voice was hard and without compassion. He said, We have your woman! ‘Less you want her filled with holes…

*****

Art Billow sighed and tossed the book into the empty seat beside him. It was one of his favorites, and despite his love for reading the wild western Dime Novels and Penny Dreadfuls, he was in no spirit for it at the moment.

He picked up the old newspaper clipping and stared at it for perhaps the thousandth time. It had a rough sketching of a handsome man on crutches. The headline read, The Bad Man from Boston. The story went on to explain how a mysterious man on crutches named Art Billow had valiantly stood against the Chaffe gang after they had slain the sheriff of Falls City and were attempting to knock over the bank. The heroic cripple scooped up the fallen sheriff’s gun and had gone after the gang while the rest of the town trembled in fear. Even after having his crutches shot away, The Bad Man from Boston belly crawled into the bank and shot dead the gang members.

As much as Art might have liked it to have been true, that wasn’t quite how it happened. Of course the news folks didn’t know that, but neither did the townsfolk for that matter. Not even the young lad Tommy, who had been present for the whole terrible experience, even he didn’t know what really happened. Only Art, the dead men, and Warren Revis knew what had really occurred that day.

Art wasn’t the big hero, but it wasn’t for lack of trying, and he took some solace in that fact. He had spent his days lost in the fantasy realms of the books he read. The boys of Fall City would gather round him outside the hotel, and he would tell them the stories. The only problem was that he would leave out the part about them being fiction, and they came revere him as a gunslinger despite his thin rim spectacles and crutches.

So when the gang killed the sheriff all eyes had fallen on him. At first he had been afraid, but he was near enough to returning to Boston with empty pockets and a broken heart that he had nothing to lose. He had decided in that moment to be the hero that he had romanticized himself to be. He had scooped up the fallen sheriff’s gun and faced down one of the gunmen in the street, and the outlaw had indeed shot his crutches out from under him. And he had crawled on until he had reached the bank.

Once he made it through door, he leveled his borrowed gun at one of the bandits. They had turned to face him and he pulled the trigger, only his inexperienced hands had forgotten to cock the hammer back. He was as good as dead, until Warren Revis had suddenly appeared. He was the real hero. He gunned down the outlaws in the bank while Art sobbed in the corner.

Warren had approached Art then, and had explained that since he was a former member of that very gang that he didn’t want anyone to know that he was involved. He wanted Art to take credit for the kills, and even take the bounty that was on the lead Chaffe’s head.

And like that Art had become the hero of Falls City, Texas. He had become the Bad Man from Boston. He had left town not only a hero, but with the money needed to fix his back and the hope of returning to Falls City a new man.

That had been almost a year ago, and much had changed. The surgery had gone well, and he no longer needed crutches to walk. He had also acquired himself a fine pair of .45 revolvers. His fears still lingered in his dreams, and sometimes he still saw the face of Claude Chaffe starring down at him with murder in his eyes. He had sworn he would never feel so helpless again. So he had bought the guns, and as he slowly recovered from his surgery he went out and shot daily. He had taken to it well. He could shoot fast and accurately.

In the past year, Art Billow had become a new man.

Hey fella, said the voice cutting through his thoughts.

Art glanced up to find himself face to face with a rough looking man with a long wicked scar running down his cheek. His skin was tanned and leathery from hours in the sun, and his face was a few days out from its most recent shave. He wore faded clothes spattered with dust from the road. He smelled like stale whiskey and burnt tobacco. On his hips sat a large six-gun. His eyes were that of a predator, almost beckoning Art to challenge him.

Behind the man stood four others that looked much the same.

With a smirk on his face the man said, I believe you’re sittin’ in my seat four eyes.

His friends chuckled, and Art only held the man’s gaze momentarily before saying, My apologies sir.

He grabbed his belongings and shuffled to the back of the train car. The others gave him devilish smiles as he went. Soon though he was forgotten.

Art plopped into his new seat, and spared himself a sigh. Not quite as many things as he hoped had changed in the past year. Sure he now had the guns and even knew how to use them, but could he? He wasn’t sure.

He still had the thin glasses too. The years of reading cowboy stories had been hard on his eyes. He hadn’t taken to tobacco well either. The smoking hadn’t gone well with his tuberculosis treatment and when he tried doing chewing tobacco he just got the spins and brown streams of spit dribbling down his chin. A shot of whiskey he didn’t mind, but more than one and he would pass out drunk. Drinking was a work in progress.

Still though, not all was a loss. He wasn’t quite the man he was when he left Falls City. His back was straight and he had gained some measure of confidence, and he was excited to return. Excited to see Miss Patty Mitchell, the young lad Tommy, and Warren Revis.