High Country Horror

Начало книги

Fargo walked on to Chatterly’s. He opened the gate and went to the steps and up them to the front door. He didn’t bother to knock but walked on in and made for the kitchen.

He was almost to the parlor when Harvey Stansfield stepped out in front of him. Harvey was holding a new ax handle. In the parlor stood McNee and Dugan with ax handles of their own.

“Hell,” Fargo said.

“We have you now, you son of a bitch,” Harvey declared.

“Were you born stupid or do you work at it?”

Harvey roared like a shot bear and raised the handle like a club. A near-maniacal expression came over him and he swung at Fargo’s head. . . .

The Trailsman

Beginnings . . . they bend the tree and they mark the man. Skye Fargo was born when he was eighteen. Terror was his midwife, vengeance his first cry. Killing spawned Skye Fargo, ruthless, cold-blooded murder. Out of the acrid smoke of gunpowder still hanging in the air, he rose, cried out a promise never forgotten.

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