Survivors Will Be Shot Again by Bill Crider

I think most Western fans will enjoy the modern Sheriff Dan Rhodes mystery stories if they aren't already acquainted. This is one of my favorite books in the series, and a review of mine that originally appeared at Macmillan's Criminal Element.

Since Too Late to Die (1986), I’ve been routinely traveling to the fictional town of Clearview in Blacklin County, Texas to spend a few reading hours with the amiable Sheriff Dan Rhodes. Though I’m a Yankee, it’s not as far of a metaphysical journey as you would think because I grew up in farm country in a picturesque village in Tompkins County, New York—so I can relate.

As a youngster, on any given Saturday, Dad would take me with him to some place in town, say, Mr. Whyte’s garage, when the sheriff pulled in for whatever reason. Still can see that gun riding high on his belt and the so-very-serious look on his face. “He’d arrest his own mother,” Dad warned.

A few years later at The Park-It Market, I was buying some Big Red gum, when the same sheriff dropped off some brochures with the year-end crime report for the county. I helped myself to the free copy, since I planned on being a cop when I grew up. I remember reading something to the effect of DWI: 0, Larceny: 1, Aggravated Assault: 0, Homicide: 0, etc. Those zeroes stood out to me, made me wonder “why bother,” but I guess it showed he was tracking such things.

Then, one year, a sobering Homicide: 1. That chilling murder—in the house right across the street from where I lived—was never solved by our hard-nosed lawman. I can’t help but think that Sheriff Dan Rhodes, who also gets the occasional killing, would have cracked it. In Survivors Will Be Shot Again, he’s dealing with just that … murder:

Rhodes knelt down. The man on the floor was dressed entirely in camouflage clothing. Even his boots were camo-colored. A hood was over his head, which was turned to the side. Two bloodstained holes were in the front of his jacket. A couple of blowflies buzzed around the holes. A trail of ants crawled under the wall and up onto the man's head. Another trail led back under the wall to the outside. Rhodes didn't want to think about what they might be taking out with them.

The body of Melvin Hunt is found at the ranch of Billy Bacon, and Sheriff Rhodes notes Billy is being a tad bit jumpy—like he was aware the corpse was in his barn before calling the police over a robbery. Yep, after a little Rhodes on-the-spot cross examining, it turns out Billy did know about Hunt and had hastily removed a sign from the property front that reads: “Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again.”

It doesn’t look so good, especially after the medical examiner says that is pretty much what happened. But, there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye. Hunt was dressed in a similar garb of a burglar that had been captured on a previous security camera feed, and yet, he had been the victim of thieving himself when his welding rig was pilfered. Sheriff Rhodes’s investigation leads him into some thorny situations—Hunt’s neighbor who doesn’t particularly care whether the man was killed or not, a marijuana patch guarded by a lazy gator, a survivalist compound, feral hogs, and, when he goes to notify the widow of the unhappy news…vicious dogs:

Moving with an alacrity he hadn't experienced since the long-gone Will o' the Wisp days, Rhodes opened the Tahoe door, jumped inside, and slammed the door. He was just in time. The dog that had been two steps ahead of the other, unable to stop his forward momentum, slammed into the door with enough force to shake the vehicle. Or maybe Rhodes was just imagining that. The Tahoe weighed nearly six thousand pounds, after all.

I’ve been amused by Sheriff Dan Rhodes’s exploits since his debut; like an old friend whose anachronistic manner you have come to appreciate even more in the ensuing years. I chuckled while reading Survivors as Rhodes tosses a loaf of bread at a convenience store robber instead of drawing his gun, as well as his droll reference to Keith Richards when he stumbles onto a wannabe thug who, looking to get high, dimwittedly mistakes an urn for a fancy drug container and inhales the contents. Then, there’s the ongoing entertainment of Rhodes’s extreme “patience,” as he somehow tolerates the relentless one-upmanship from coworkers Hack and Lawton, neither of whom aggravatingly ever seem to get around to the point of any given story. And, to exacerbate it all, hanger-on Seepy Benton, a mathematics professor, thinks himself an indispensable Sherlock.

When not just enjoying broad strokes of comedy (the author’s timing and phrasing are spot-on), I can appreciate Mr. Crider’s unpretentious, wry jabs at narrow-mindedness in all shapes, like Billy’s assertion that the gun isn't his but his wife Nadine’s, who is worried over all the home invasions she reads about. Mr. Crider writes, “Rhodes didn't read much about home invasions, because as far as he knew there hadn't been one in Blacklin County.” Those little asides are what makes reading this twenty-four book series such a treat for the longtime enthusiast. When Billy overuses the word okay, Rhodes ponders, “…if he could shoot Billy if he said okay? one more time.”

Sheriff Dan Rhodes: A Texan Luddite whose keen intuition on human behavior and exalted common sense compensates more than nicely for any police procedures he finds arduous and regularly ignores. In a world of Chicken Littles, he’s a reliable, steady intellect that, though a little worn by time and care, looks at the world at an angle.

Specifically, it’s a human comedy that he wants little part of, but as the linchpin of Clearview, he must move forward…just at his own pace. Another humorous thread woven throughout the books is that of a writing team who’ve apparently been inspired by Sheriff Rhodes and have created, to his dismay, a character named Sage Barton (”two-gun hero”) in a successful series of adventure-romance novels being optioned for film. Everyone sees the resemblance to the heroic lawman except Rhodes himself.

Now, here’s one time I disagree with our humble protagonist, because the good sheriff—not to just the fictional residents of Blacklin County—to me and a number of other readers is larger than life … thanks to Bill Crider.

---

David Cranmer is the editor of the BEAT to a PULP webzine and whose own body of work has appeared in such diverse publications as The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, LitReactor, Macmillan’s Criminal Element, and Chicken Soup for the Soul. Under the pen name Edward A. Grainger he created the Cash Laramie western series. He's a dedicated Whovian who enjoys jazz and backgammon. He can be found in scenic upstate New York where he lives with his wife and daughter.

BOOK REVIEW: JERRY GUIN'S "WEST OF THE BIG RIVER: THE BANDIT" by Charlie Steel

                                                                   Author Jerry Guin

 

Even though WEST OF THE BIG RIVER: THE BANDIT has been out for a while, it is a book well worth reviewing.

I admire and like the way Western Author Jerry Guin writes.  He has a clean, no nonsense style that makes the message clear and the meaning of words and sentences shine.  He writes a well-researched book about the outlaw Sam Bass and he does it in a manner that can be read by all ages, young and old.  I respect his choice to describe adult situations in a manner that offends no one, yet remains clear as to the gritty seriousness of life.

Guin starts his book with Sam Bass as a helper in a jail.  It holds the outlaw Claude Rankin who that very day is going to hang for murder.  Bass, a fairly innocent young man, asks Rankin if he is afraid.  The response is no, and then the outlaw proceeds to calmly and elaborately describe to Bass what the hanging will be like.  Afterwards, he explains that he chose to live the life of an outlaw and, therefore, he has no regrets and is not afraid to die.  THAT sets the tone for this Western Fictioneers, West of the Big River, novel.

Despite the youthful Sam Bass being befriended by an honest sheriff, the reader begins to discern Sam’s dislike for the drudgery of hard work.  It isn’t that Bass is afraid or incapable of working hard, it is that he just wants an easier way of making a living.  Looking for fast money and a way of getting it, the young Sam Bass turns to card gambling and horse racing.  This leads to association with unsavory characters.

From horse racing, to a clever cattle rustling scheme from Texas to Kansas, to the Dakota gold strike at Deadwood, Sam Bass continues to set his footsteps toward the dangerous excitement of thievery.

Jerry Guin has a way with words that evokes clear images of living history, here’s an example:

 “It was a brisk, sunshiny October day when the foursome rode into Deadwood.  Sam figured the place was the grubbiest burg that he had ever laid eyes on.  It didn’t appear to be much of a town that was built in a gulch.  The middle of the single street was deep in mud with ditches, holes, manure, and tree stumps.  One and two-story, frame buildings snugged together on both sides of the roadway.”

Here is a further unique historical description of Deadwood:

“By nightfall they found out everything in this northern town was at least double or triple the price of what they were used to paying.  A sleeping cot in a large room full of snoring drunks cost a dollar a night.  A decent room cost up to five dollars a night as opposed to fifty cents to two dollars, depending on the quality, in Texas or Kansas.  When it came to food, fifty cents would buy a bowl of gruel or greasy stew, while a decent meal of meat, potatoes, and bread cost one to two dollars, whereas twenty-five cents to fifty cents was common for fare in cattle towns.  It cost a dollar a day just to feed and house a horse.  The high prices were merely the cause of high demand by the growing crowd of wide-eyed strangers coming to the gold rush.  At times during the day or night a thousand men or more crowded the streets and business establishments.  It was indeed a carnival atmosphere to merely sit and watch the activities up and down the street.  Freighters coming in to deliver goods and getting their wagon stuck in the muck on the street while teetotalers pointed and laughed, others would rush out to lend a hand to the stranded wagon.  Hammers banged in the clear morning air as carpenters worked at a frenzied pace in getting a new building erected, while nearby in the street, donkeys brayed and freighters urged on their teams with cussing commands.  This was Deadwood.”

And, there is a lot more to this book.  As time goes on, Sam Bass and the partners he meets up with fall on hard times.  The winter in Deadwood is cold, the prices high, and the mining and freighting he tries, fails miserably.  Bass resigns himself to petty stealing.  Then with five other men he robs a train and finds aboard thousands in gold coins.  The six men split up and travel away from the train robbery.

Sam Bass’s continuing adventures can best be left to the reader.  For certain, this is a finely researched historical piece of fiction written by one of the best and upcoming writers of the west.  Jerry Guin has a way with words and description.  I give it five stars.  Readers of all ages will devour it without qualm and come away knowledgeable in the way of a real life outlaw.

                                                        Reviewed by Charlie Steel

 

Review Roundup: A Reluctant Lawman Finds His Calling

The Wind River series
By James Reasoner and L.J. Washburn
The Book Place, August 2011

Wind River (ASIN: B005HFLFMU, 213 pages, $0.99 Kindle)
Wind River: Thunder Wagon (ASIN: B005HFLGTM, 295 pages,  $2.99 Kindle)
Wind River: Wolf Shadow (ASIN: B005HFLHUK, 189 pages, $2.99 Kindle)
Wind River: Medicine Creek (ASIN: B005HZDW4O, 219 pages, $2.99 Kindle)
Wind River: Dark Trail (ASIN: B005IGJH32, 200 pages, $2.99 Kindle)
Wind River: Judgement Day (ASIN: B005ISPPJA, 211 pages, $2.99 Kindle)

After the Civil War, Cole Tyler enjoyed several careers, none of them permanent: army scout, wagon train guide, and buffalo hunter for the Union Pacific’s rowdy track-laying team. The one career he never fancied was lawman. Nevertheless, when one of the founders of a railhead settlement is shot dead during a brawl that breaks out as the first train arrives, Tyler can’t resist the pretty widow’s request that he pin on a star and become the marshal of Wind River, Wyoming Territory. He figures he’ll stick around for a few months until the town settles down, and then he’ll pass off the job to someone better suited to a stationary existence.

Tyler sticks around for six books, growing into the job as he and the town mature together. Wind River, he discovers, can be wilder than any wilderness. As marshal, Tyler stands at the center of a maelstrom of shifting alliances, political and economic intrigue, murder, extortion, Indian uprisings, and ethnic discord. And that's just before breakfast.

Originally published in 1994 and ’95 by Harper Collins, the Wind River books represent series writing done extremely well. Though each short novel is a complete story in its own right, together they represent the sort of western saga one hates to see end. The writing is crisp and clear, the plotlines strong, and the action unceasing. Reasoner and Washburn have an extraordinary gift for setting a scene using details that bring the primitive West to vivid life without bogging down the stories’ pace. Combine that with exceptional, three-dimensional characters and dialogue that completely avoids the trite, and it’s tough for readers to find a stopping point — even between books.

It’s impossible not to draw comparisons between the Wind River series and the AMC television series Hell on Wheels. Both take place in the Wyoming Territory as the Union Pacific Railroad forges westward. Both trade in multiple plot threads that follow a large, diverse cast. The protagonist in both is a stalwart ex-Confederate who’d just as soon not have to deal with lingering mistrust and disapproval at every turn. Most conspicuous, though, are the striking similarities between a primary antagonist in both series: In disposition and role, Wind River’s William Durand and Hell on Wheels’ Thomas Durant could be the same man.

Wind River, it should be noted, predates Hell on Wheels by fourteen years — and frankly, the former does a better job of remaining consistent and avoiding the sorts of potentially shark-jumping plot twists on which HoW too often relies.

Even readers who balk at classic westerns will find plenty of entertainment in the Wind River series’ liberal doses of humor, mystery, and adventure. If the western is dead, somebody forgot to tell this corpse.


Kathleen Rice Adams is a Texan, a voracious reader, a professional journalist, and an author. Her opinions are her own and are neither endorsed nor necessarily supported by Western Fictioneers or individual members of the organization. Links in the review are for convenience only; they do not produce affiliate revenue.