Rider from Thunder Mountain by Clair Huffaker

 

Still staring down at the Indian camp, Kamas said “What can they do to a man to keep him shrieking like that?”

Larimer crossed his arms in the top of the dirt and embankment and leaned forward. “Quite a few things.”

Kanas seemed frozen where he stood. “I didn't think a man like Tronco would break that way--so fast.”

“White babies learn early that if they yell long enough and loud enough somebody’ll do something for them. Indian kids learn yellin’ brings the wolves down on them, or a hand over their mouth and nose to stop their breathing. Maybe that's somethin’ to do with it.”

This 1957 Fawcett Crest novel is a brisk 128 pages.

It reads swift, lean and mean.

It starts out formulaic, and perhaps never leaves formula behind but we are in such capable hands that formula turns from familiar brew to whiskey neat.

Even with its brisk pace and action-laden plot, character is never left behind.

We see them all. I easily pictured Robert Culp in his cool capable mode walking the screen in my imaginary film of this novel.

If one enjoys the leanness of a fine Elmore Leonard Western, well, this may be what the doctor ordered.