Dead Shot Available in One Week

 My first Western, Dead Shot: The Memoir of Walter Ferguson, Soldier, Marshal, Bootlegger becomes available next Friday, November 22. This date was chosen as a courtesy to my dozens of readers, as I know the holidays are a busy time and you might like to get this order off your plate before Thanksgiving makes life hectic. (Canadian readers should ignore the Thanksgiving part. Yours has come and gone. I hope you had a good one.)

Over the past weeks I’ve posted about how and why I wrote Dead Shot,. Today I thought I’d talk a little about why Westerns matter at all, since the core of the book, Walt’s time on the range, took place 120 – 150 years ago.

Western stories – in particular Western movies – have shaped American culture and politics since their advent. The image of the lone cowboy riding into town to right injustice has become so iconic a lot of people in this country – too many, frankly – think that’s how things were and, even worse, should be today. To them, everyone should not only have the right to carry a gun, but should carry one. They believe that’s what it takes to be safe in a world far less dangerous than they would have you believe.

The people who lived on the frontier, where guns were often a necessity, would have liked nothing better than to see fewer of them. Rifles and shotguns were critical for subsistence hunting in a land where the closest meat market might be two days’ ride with no guarantee the meat purchased wasn’t already half spoiled.

Guns were also needed for personal protection. The frontier was a place where a farmer’s wife could watch him disappear over the horizon for a simple run into town for supplies with no assurance she’d ever see him again, no way to check on him, and no way to notify anyone if he didn’t return. Pa would be wise to arm himself on the way to and from town, even if he left the gun in the wagon while he was there.

Why would he leave the gun in the wagon? Because a lot of towns, maybe even most of them, eventually had ordinances that prohibited carrying firearms inside the town limits. People checked their guns the same way we check our coats now. The folks in those towns were painfully aware of the misery caused by every swinging dick in town coming heeled.

That element isn’t very romantic, though, so it’s often overlooked, especially in what I call the good haircut Westerns of the 30s through most of the 60s. You know what I mean: men came into town after three weeks on the range with their hair cut and combed, with maybe a day’s growth of beard. That right there should have been a tip-off that the image about to be conveyed would be inaccurate, no matter how compelling the story.

(I make two exceptions to the above rule: Shane and the original The Magnificent Seven. The grooming in both is still pretty good, but the depictions of the lives lived are also unvarnished.)

The turning point came with The Wild Bunch; Westerns would never be the same after Sam Peckinpaugh’s masterpiece. Clint Eastwood then became virtual curator of the genre with a series of classics, including The Outlaw Josie Wales, High Plains Drifter,  and his Western tour-de-force, Unforgiven.

There were others. Off the top of my head Young Guns, The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Appaloosa, Open Range and especially Monte Walsh worked overtime to dispel the image built up over the previous forty years. On television, Lonesome Dove stands alone. Some were better than others. None glamorized the West, though they often displayed the heroism required to survive on the frontier.

Walt Ferguson’s story includes many scenes based on actual events. Action scenes that might lead one to believe this is just another shoot-em-up. I hope that’s not the general takeaway. I wrote the book to be entertaining, but I also wanted to show that Walt’s exploits were only necessary because the frontier was such a dangerous place.

One last excerpt from the book sums up Wat’s feelings toward his time on the frontier. The “current economic situation” he refers to is the Great Depression.

The frontier is gone now and will never return. That is as it should be, and while I miss it, I do not yearn for its renaissance. The world can never remain too constant or it will become stagnant, and a stagnant pool cannot sustain life except maybe mosquitoes and Lord knows we need no more of them.

What I do not speak much of, and why I am not sorry the frontier is gone forever, are the hardships. As bad as things are during the current economic situation, people who were not there have no idea of the depredations and suffering endured by those who made the trip west when the prairie had never felt a plow blade and was run by Indians. Even without the Indians it was a dangerous and unforgiving place where starvation and disease were constant threats. A relatively minor injury, easily treated by a doctor today, could prevent a man from working and cast his family into ruin.

My heart went out to the homesteaders who broke their backs and buried their children in small family plots. They had no thoughts of riches, only of a better life than the one they left. Maybe to give their children a leg up. They linger across the prairie in unmarked graves covered with stone to keep the scavengers away. The men like me who wore guns get all the attention nowadays but those unnamed millions deserve the credit. I could never have done what any of them did.

Dead Shot: The Memoir of Walter Ferguson, Soldier, Marshal, Bootlegger Drops in Two Weeks

 

Dead Shot: The Memoir of Walter Ferguson, Soldier, Marshal, Bootlegger, drops November 22. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about what a departure it was for me to write a Western. Today I’ll come clean: it’s not as much of a departure as you might think. Dead Shot my second Western.

The still untitled novel was written in fits and starts several years ago after several western road trips put the bug in me. I squeezed bits in between drafts of Penns River and Nick Forte novels figuring I’d edit it into something usable.

The editing made it better, but I was still dissatisfied. The book struck me too much as a rehashing of my favorite scenes from other Westerns, both written and on film. I was pondering how to fix it, or if it was even worth fixing, when the character of Walter Ferguson came to me. The other book fell by the way during Walt’s lengthy gestation period.

These things happen. I’d thrown away thousands of words before. The Man in the Window, the third Forte novel, was almost half written when I decided I didn’t like where it was going. I salvaged what I liked and started over. The Man in the Window earned me a Shamus nomination as Best Paperback Original, so I guess I made the right decision.

The third Penns River novel, Resurrection Mall, started life as the fifth Forte. I was more than 30,000 words in and not liking how things were holding together – or, more accurately, not holding together – when it dawned on me what was wrong: this was a story better suited for Penns River. I threw away everything except the title and one sentence, shifted the whole operation to Penns River, and the rest went as smoothly as any book I’d written to that point.

Those experiences taught me to trust my judgment, so tossing a virtually finished novel did not keep me up at night. The time I worked on that book was well spent. I discovered what I needed to better understand to write a convincing Western, and that I needed to write a book in full, uninterrupted drafts if I wanted it to seem of a piece. I also needed a voice more suited to the period.

All those things not only made Dead Shot a better book, it made it a treat to write. I never had as much fun researching anything I’ve written, thanks mostly to the lively storytelling of those who wrote the histories and memoirs I used in my research. All the books listed below are well worth your time if you have an interest in Western history; the History Channel series, True West, is also recommended. (Alas, Wild West Tech has only random episodes available on YouTube.)

The Encyclopedia of Lawmen, Outlaws, and Gunfighters, Leon Claire Metz

The American West, Dee Brown

Why the West was Wild, Miller Snell

We Pointed Them North, “Teddy Blue” Abbott

The Johnson County War, Bill O’Neal

Deadwood: Stories of the Black Hills, David Milch (Focuses on the TV show but has a lot of good historical perspective)

Old Bill Miner: Last of the Famous Western Bandits, Frank W. Anderson

A Texas Cowboy: Or Fifteen Years on the Hurricane Deck of a Spanish Pony, Charlie Siringo

Famous Gunfighters of the Western Frontier, Bat Masterson

Dodge City, Tom Clavin

Gunfighter, Joseph G. Rosa

Beyond the Law, Emmitt Dalton

 

Last time I left you with a brief excerpt of Walt’s early life. Today I’ll tease you with a little of his military experience in the 11^th Pennsylvania Volunteers.

I would have been happy to have no cause to fire my weapon during the War of Southern Rebellion, but I ended up doing more than my share of killing. There were two reasons for this. At Chancellorsville I saw a Rebel blow the head off my best friend, Charlie Bagby, while Charlie lay wounded and helpless. I killed that man and the three who were with him. After that I took it as my part to kill my share and Charlie’s too. It seemed only fair.

The other reason I killed so many was that I was good at it. A man should never shirk a God-given gift. The Almighty made me so I could send a bullet anywhere my eye landed. To deny that talent would be akin to blasphemy.

I was fortunate to have a captain who recognized my ability and took full advantage of it. Much of my time between engagements was spent hunting to bring back game that added variety to a diet I would not wish on vermin. Some of the other men resented that I was excused from the less glamorous duties of a soldier, such as digging and filling latrines or standing night watch. They got over it when they realized Company C was the best-fed outfit in the regiment.

As for the other Western, I’ve seen and read quite a few in the past several years that are also mostly rehashings of classic plots and scenes; the secret is in the execution. So, as Billy Crystal said in The Princess Bride, it’s not completely dead.

Dead Shot: The Memoir of Walter Ferguson; Soldier, Marshal, Bootlegger To Be Released November 22

 Well, I finally got around to it.

After years of dithering and several abortive starts, I finished a Western. Dead Shot: The Memoir of Walter Ferguson, Soldier, Marshal, Bootlegger drops four weeks from today, on November 22, just in time for holiday shopping. (Hint, hint.)

Dead Shot is unique from my other books in several ways besides being my first Western. First, I didn’t “write” it; I am but the “editor.” The conceit is that I stumbled across the notes for a memoir by a western Pennsylvania native while researching a Penns River novel. Walter Ferguson (1844 – 1937) told his life story to a woman named Helena Elizabeth Judson, who took copious written notes and even a few wire recordings. Both participants died before the project came to fruition, and somehow the notes ended up at the Alle-Kiski Historical Society, where I found them. I then took it upon myself to complete what Walt and Helena had “begun.”

Another difference is that Walt crosses paths with historical figures and participates in documented historical events. Along the way he interacts with frontier notables, including Charlie Bassett, Butch Cassidy, Wyatt Earp, Wild Bill Hickok, Bat Masterson (and his brothers), Johnny Ringo, Al Swearengen, and Bill Tilghman among others. Walt also participates in the Second Battle of Adobe Walls and the Dodge City War.

I also had to come up with a new style and voice that felt more appropriate for the era. I read several memoirs of cowboys, lawmen, and criminals in hope of cobbling together something that would ring true as an oral history as told though Walt’s eyes without seeming too archaic.

I had a ball writing Dead Shot and The Beloved Spouse™ enjoyed listening to me read it to her; she is always a good judge of how well what I wrote is received by others. J. D. Rhoades, author of the Jack Keller series as well as the acclaimed Western The Killing Look, said, “A fascinating, picaresque journey through a tumultuous post-Civil-War American West. Walter tells his tale with scrupulous honesty and wry wit as he encounters legends and makes a few of his own. Fans of Thomas Berger's Little Big Man are going to love this one. Highly recommended.”

Here’s a tease from Chapter One:

My name is Walter Stewart Ferguson. I was born in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania on January 17, 1844. Or January 14, depending on who you ask. I celebrate on the 17^th, as that is the date Mother told me and I figure she should know. It is also the birthday of the greatest Pennsylvanian of all time, Benjamin Franklin, and who better to share a birthday with than he? [Editor’s Note: The facts are unclear. Many local birth records were damaged or destroyed in the flood of 1936, as were the baptismal records of the Ferguson family church.]

I am the second of five children to survive more than one year, along with an older sister (Oneida), a younger brother (Seward), and two younger sisters, Ella and MaryLou. An older brother was stillborn and a sister, Ethel, was taken by the whooping cough in her first year.

I could always shoot. My father, Gordon, was a more than passable marksman, but I bested him the first time he took me out to learn. People said it was a gift from God, my ability to shoot accurately with whatever was in my hand, be it musket, rifle, pistol, or bow and arrow. Only God knows if that is true. All I can say for certain is that it led me to do things I am not sure God would approve of. I suppose one day I will find out.

Dead Shot will be available on Amazon November 22. Look for special pricing over that weekend.

(Note: I know, I know. Some might consider releasing a book titled Dead Shot on the anniversary of the Kennedy assassination to be in questionable taste. For reasons of my own, I always planned to drop the book on the Friday before Thanksgiving. I didn’t realize that was the 22^nd until I looked it up just now. If anyone takes umbrage…well, damn, people. It’s been 61 years. He’d be dead by now, anyway.)