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Showing 1 - 25 of
36 matches in All Departments
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The Texan (Hardcover)
B. Hendryx James B. Hendryx, James B Hendryx; Edited by 1stworld Library
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R646
Discovery Miles 6 460
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Ships in 12 - 17 working days
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Exactly twenty minutes after young Benton dismounted from his big
rangy black before the door of a low adobe saloon that fronted upon
one of the narrow crooked streets of old Las Vegas, he glanced into
the eyes of the thin-lipped croupier and laughed. "You've got 'em.
Seventy-four good old Texas dollars." He held up a coin between his
thumb and forefinger. "I've got another one left, an' your boss is
goin' to get that, too-but he's goin' to get it in legitimate
barter an' trade." As the cowpuncher stepped to the bar that
occupied one side of the room, a group of Mexicans who had lounged
back at his entrance crowded once more about the wheel and began
noisily to place their bets. He watched them for a moment before
turning his attention to the heavy-lidded, flabby-jowled person who
leaned ponderously against the sober side of the bar. "Who owns
this joint?" he asked truculently, as he eyed with disfavour the
filthy shirt-sleeves rolled back from thick forearms, the sagging
vest, and the collarless shirt-band that buried itself in a fold of
the fat neck.
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The Gun-Brand (Hardcover)
B. Hendryx James B. Hendryx, James B Hendryx; Edited by 1stworld Library
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R671
Discovery Miles 6 710
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Ships in 12 - 17 working days
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Seated upon a thick, burlap-covered bale of freight-a "piece," in
the parlance of the North-Chloe Elliston idly watched the loading
of the scows. The operation was not new to her; a dozen times
within the month since the outfit had swung out from Athabasca
Landing she had watched from the muddy bank while the half-breeds
and Indians unloaded the big scows, ran them light through whirling
rock-ribbed rapids, carried the innumerable pieces of freight upon
their shoulders across portages made all but impassable by scrub
timber, oozy muskeg, and low sand-mountains, loaded the scows again
at the foot of the rapid and steered them through devious and
dangerous miles of swift-moving white-water, to the head of the
next rapid.
Seated upon a thick, burlap-covered bale of freight -- a "piece,"
in the parlance of the North -- Chloe Elliston idly watched the
loading of the scows. The operation was not new to her; a dozen
times within the month since the outfit had swung out from
Athabasca Landing she had watched from the muddy bank while the
half-breeds and Indians unloaded the big scows...
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