Showing results by narrator "Barry Press" in All Categories

This hard-boiled tale from A. W. Gray takes its title from its hero, con artist and poker player Sizemore Brandon, a gentle if criminal giant and sidekick to Pecos Jimmy, a Dallas racketeer majoring in gambling. When Size is called to testify against his boss, Jimmy decides the time has come to dispense with his services permanently. The stakes are high, and Size will have to play his cards right if he is to come out on top in the seamy underbelly of Texas.

In a parallel near future, a ship named for a jellyfish sinks into the Caribbean with its captain chained to the mast. Left behind is a logbook missing ten pages, presidential DNA hidden in a brick of smuggled cocaine, and a nearly completed novel. Tipsy, the dead sailor's sister, and Red Means, his erstwhile employer, travel from San Francisco to the Caribbean and back as they attempt to unravel a mystery that rapidly widens from death at sea to international conspiracy.

When miners dig up the Yana Indians' sacred burial ground, the tribe goes on the warpath. And after a couple of deputy sheriffs are found with so many arrows sticking out of them they look like porcupines, the miners grab their guns and axes. Even a little Indian war is big news in the fading days of the Wild West, so Stringer rides out to investigate. But something just ain't right. For one thing, the arrows that killed the deputies are not Yana arrows. And the varmints who dug up the Indian graves aren't miners.

When freight trains conquered the West, the big, dusty drives of beef on the hoof became just a colorful piece of cowboy nostalgia. So when a cattle baron called C. J. Tarington aims to punch a thousand-plus head through the unforgiving heat and sage of the Great Basin, some say he's a mite simple, or crazy, or both. Stringer thinks it's something else. And sure enough, a pack of bloodthirsty varmints is robbing trains all along the cattle trail.

Only Pancho Villa, king of bandits, is gutsy enough to make war on Terrazas the tyrant. And only Villa would sell tickets to one of his massacres. A curious mob settles along the Rio Grande, waiting for a bloodbath. They don't know that they've wasted their two bits on a phony war. Only one man is wise to Villa's crafty fake - Stringer MacKail. The adventurer-turned-newsman saddles a fast horse and tracks the real war to Mexico's sun-parched badlands. The desert erupts in a hellish inferno of torture and death as Villa's fearless gang shoots it out with Terraza's battle-scarred army.

When a legendary old gunslinger finally meets his Maker in some godforsaken West Texas town, Stringer heads to the scene for what he thinks is a routine story. But when he gets to Comanche Woe, it turns out he's landed in the middle of a dust storm of trouble. It's open season on wanted men. A wily varmint called Buckskin Jack Blair has crowned himself Marshal. And murderous vigilantes and bounty hunters are crawling out of the woodwork. When the bullets start flying, Stringer can't tell the outlaws from the lawmen…

When Charles S. Stratton was born in 1838, he seemed perfect in every way. But then he stopped growing. At age four, though a happy and mischievous child, he was just over two feet tall and weighed 15 pounds - the exact size he had been as a seven-month-old baby. It was then that P. T. Barnum persuaded Charley’s family to allow him to exhibit their son in his museum and tour him around the world as a curiosity. Tom Thumb, as Barnum dubbed him, was a natural performer.

Dead men don't tell tales. Neither do dead women or children. And when their corpses have been dryin' out in the desert sun for fifty years, there's nary a whisper left of what happened. So when the six Mojave mummies are found near Esperanza, it's up to Stringer to get the story. But someone in Esperanza wants him to just plain git.... First there's that invite to butt out, signed with a skull. Then the town welcome wagon wants to give him a buckshot bouquet.

Even a newspaperman with Stringer MacKail's brand of courage knows you can't cover a stalemated miners' strike without getting on somebody's fightin' side. But that won't stop Stringer from trying to get some ink on the gold miners' sit-down out in Cripple Creek. Unfortunately, the only word he's heard so far is vamoose. Seems the Mine Owners' Association doesn't take kindly to pesky reporters, and would like to put Stringer out of commission-for keeps. That is, if Big Bill Heywood and his Federation of Miners don't do it first....

Usually it takes Stringer a little while to rile folks in a new town. But no sooner does he step off the train in Tulsa, than some sidewinder is doing his best to turn Stringer into yesterday's news. The hot story in Tulsa is the oil boom. It seems you can't dig a grave without hitting black gold. And Stringer's there to write the story. But MacKail's never seen such a sorry assortment of low-down, hornswoggling bushwhackers. Because, as Stringer well knows, where there's money, there's outlaws and lawyers....