A young newspaper reporter named Edwin Barker possessed the uncommon habit of believing that facts were more valuable than opinions. It was an unfortunate belief for a man entering journalism in modern times, for facts require labor, as opinions come… Continue reading

The wind carried the smell of pine and desperation off the Sierras, a familiar enough combination in Virginia City. Mason Quinn, known to most who mattered as Mace, leaned back in the old leather chair that groaned under his weight.… Continue reading

Training passed faster than I expected. One week, I was relearning to strip a rifle blindfolded, judge distance across shimmering plains, and move through thorn brush without leaving a trail. And the next, we were loading battered trucks before sunrise,… Continue reading

The old house of Ashcombe Close stood at the edge of a neglected wood where the yews leaned inward as though conspiring over forgotten matters. It had belonged for generations to the same family, though little now remained of their… Continue reading

By six in the evening, the high desert light had gone thin and hard over Virginia City. The Comstock hills stood sharp against a sky the color of old brass, and the wind that came down from Mount Davidson carried… Continue reading

It has long been my observation that mankind possesses a miraculous talent for agreement, provided no one says anything. The instant a fellow opens his mouth, or worse, places his thoughts upon one of those miraculous electric bulletin boards they… Continue reading

For years beyond counting, the wanderer had roamed the untamed places of the world, where savage forests closed like prison walls and lonely mountains lifted their granite brows against the heavens. So long had hardship been his companion that hunger… Continue reading

Every summer, the Comstock produces a fresh crop of reminders that the Almighty possesses a curious sense of humor. The sagebrush bakes, the jackrabbits conduct their affairs before breakfast, and the tarantula hawk takes to the air dressed as though… Continue reading

Night had its way about itself, as did the shadow, whose movement was unnatural, for man created them for men of unnatural intention. The moon hung low above the hills, silvering the sagebrush and turning the old wagon road into… Continue reading

There is a tidy little schoolhouse in Dayton, where the paint is fresh, the flag flies proudly, and every public official delivers a speech about children being “our greatest treasure” without blushing. The speeches gleamed brighter than the waxed floors,… Continue reading