The Red Pony by John Steinbeck

She said quietly, “Look at it this way, Carl. That was the big thing in my father’s life. He led a wagon train clear across the plains to the coast, and when it was finished, his life was done. It was a big thing to do, but it didn’t last long enough. Look!” she continued, “it’s as though he was born to do that, and after he finished it, there wasn’t any more for him to do but think about it and talk about it. If there’d been any further west to go, he’d have gone. He’s told me so himself. But at last there was the ocean. He lives right by the ocean where he had to stop.”


A literary giant offers this 100-page novella in four parts. Ostensibly we are tied to a single small ranching family in California, but Steinbeck being Steinbeck has larger fish to fry with his themes. 


We view the passing of the mythic West, the, perhaps lesser spirit of contemporary non-Westering beings, and some bona fide heartbreak.


It is a curious amalgamation that feels a bit disconnected in its parts, but it is never less than beautifully written, chockful of incisive observation and it has a few surprises of character that may give one pause. They feel real, and that’s what renders the surprises more redolent.


Called one of the 100 Best Western Short Stories, I’ve no quibble with that estimation.

“When the Children Cry” for Meat by Noel M. Loomis

Ikamosa drew a sudden deep breath. “I was raised a Kiowa,” he said, “but I have never lost the Comanche’s love of coming and going as he wishes.”


Mr. Loomis uses his deep knowledge of Indian ways to construct another tale akin to his award-winning effort “Grandfather Out of the Past.” [Also covered in this blog.]

This one follows a band of Kiowa led by their half-Comanche chief during a long lean time. 


Steeped in tribal politics and wise to Indian ways, it has this aspect of verisimilitude going for it, but I found it less successful than “Grandfather Out of the Past” as this one seems a little too respectful, a little too “Majestic Noble Savage” heavy to feel realistically immersive.


Undoubtedly a gifted taleteller, I merely express a preference for the other.

“Red Sand” by Will C. Brown

Red sand whipped men’s faces and clogged their eyes and nostrils. The wind, the constant, yammering wind, battered the walls of lonely nester houses, and pried into every crevice to lay its gritty hand. And if a man was weak, not made for it, the red grit could grind itself into his reason, as well as into his clothes, his teeth, and his bed.


Brown was a force in the genre in the 50’s and 60’s and the prose here shows good atmosphere in the Caprock Country. A tale of redemption with the discovery of love thrown in. 


I’ll admit, while not a bad tale, it seems a bit too formulaic to merit a slot as one of the 100 Best Western Short-Stories. 


I look forward to sampling more of Mr. Brown. As I said, well written just a little bit predictable.

The White Man’s Road by Clay Fisher

The Sioux gripped the old soldier’s rough hand, knowing from the squeeze of it and from the look in the other’s faded blue eyes, what all men know who have been there: that when the last raise has been made and called, all men are the same color.

This tale of horse soldiers and the Sioux has been called one of the 100 Best Western Short-Stories; I must admit that ranking eludes me. Fisher writes well, clearly knows his stuff and is no formulary hack, but I admit that, thus far, I lack the appreciation gene for his brand of presentation.

With that said, if you enjoy Fisher’s works then this well-regarded tale may do the trick for you.

Here’s to that!

The Man We Called Jones by T.V. Olsen

When he saw who it was hailed him, he looked ready to laugh. Almost. He peered sharp at Jones, and something seemed to shut it off in his throat before it started.

“Carradine,” Jones said. Carradine, you brag something fierce. Back it.”

The reliable T.V. Olsen takes a formulary tack in this familiar tale of a man failing to escape his past. It has been included in the roster of 100 Best Western Short Stories, and while I have had many fine reading experiences with the author, I fail to see why this one makes the cut.

It’s not bad, it’s just that it’s not a particular stand-out either.

Candles in the Bottom of the Pool by Max Evans

“Aleta, the world is strange. Mankind has forgotten what was always true—that a clean breath is worth more than the most elegant bank building. A new flower opening is more beautiful than a marble palace. All things rot. Michelangelo’s sculpture is even now slowly breaking apart. All empires vanish. The largest buildings in the world will turn back to sand. The great paintings are cracking, the negatives of the best films ever made are right now losing their color and becoming brittle. The tallest mountains are coming down a rock at a time. Only thoughts live. You are only what you think.”

This is one unusual story. It is beautifully written, rife with observations as the above will attest, and…well, the arc of the story literally shocked me. I can’t say I know what to make of the story as a whole; I am left with questions.

Usually such elliptical fare leaves me cold, but this bit of outre perspective and savage acts left me pondering its meaning. 

I don’t mean for that to sound pretentious, simply a fact. 

An unusual work of art.

The Wind and the Snow of Winter by Walter Van Tilburg Clark

He mocked the airs with which the man rode, and his princely greetings. He mocked the man cleverly, and Armandy laughed and repeated what he said, and made him drink a little of her wine as a reward. Mike had been drinking whiskey, and he did not like wine anyway, but this was not the moment in which to refuse such an invitation.

The author of the acknowledged classic The Ox-Bow Incident provides this knowing tale of the land and the men and women in it. It is far from formulary, and likely made the 100 Best List by dint of its craft. 

It is melancholic, short and worth the time of thoughtful readers.

Court Day by Luke Short

“I just saw Comer,” Marty announced, his eyes hot, his voice contained. “He’s givin’ us till sundown to clear out of town.”

Nobody spoke for a minute. Ernie found them watching him, but he kept silent. There are times you can advise men, and times you can’t.

Luke Short wrote many a fine formulary Western. They are often Noir-ish in tone, but he always strived for that bit more than assembly-line feel. He was a great admirer of Ernest Haycox and wanted to infuse his stories with something a bit more, to render them beyond just disposable western fodder.

This story is the only Short tale that made the Top 100 Western Short Story list, but I must confess the brevity emphasizes Short’s formulary elements over his ability with tone and shading of events. 

It is not a bad tale, but comparing the author to himself, he has produced far better work.

Massacre by James Warner Bellah

Owen Thursday was a tall man, dried out to leather and bone and sinew. Whatever he was doing, he moved about incessantly, not with nerves, but with primeval restlessness; not with impatience, but with an echo of lost destiny.

Bellah’s elegiac story was adapted into John Ford’s excellent Fort Apache. It is rare that we have lighting strike twice where the beauty in print matches the beauty on screen. Here we have such magic.

I’ll not bother wasting time summarizing the familiar, suffice to say it still holds power.

The Bird in the Bush by Eugene Manlove Rhodes

I guess Adam had the best time anybody ever did, namin’ things. Ever notice what good names you find in a thin-settled country? That’s cause they don’t have no prominent citizens to call things after.

My first encounter with this well-regarded author. I found the language a bit baroque and long-winded in this tale leading me to never quite settle down into the narrative and experience the people and place. The language itself acted as a buffer between me and the world the author was creating.

Perhaps that is not always the case.

A Man Called Horse by Dorothy M. Johnson

He went home three years later. He explained no more than to say, “I lived with the Crows for a while. It was some time before I could leave. They called me Horse.”

He did not find it necessary either to apologize or to boast, because he was equal to any man on earth.

An absolutely superlative story. It is fine narrative fiction but any one also familiar with Sebastian Junger’s non-fiction premise propounded in his book Tribe will find extensive food for thought here.

Some stories are stories, and some are fingers gesturing to insight; this is one of the latter.

Wine On the Desert by Max Brand

There was no hurry, except for the thirst, like clotted salt, in the back of his throat, and Durante rode on slowly, rather enjoying the last moments of dryness before he reached the cold water in Tony’s house. There was really no hurry at all.

The tale starts well, as most Brand will, but I confess that apparently I am unconstitutionally able to finish one of his works feeling satisfied. There is something a bit baroque in his work, and a hint of uninformed slap-dashedness that takes me out of the narrative

If you do not suffer from the same prejudice and have an affinity for Brand, well, this tale is highly regarded—you may win with it.

To Find a Place by Robert Easton

So the hours were used up. At three o’clock the wind blew the fog away and let us see the stars men know who work by night—late stars, somehow brighter and better than the ones you see around ten o’clock when most people go to bed. They splattered through the sky from north to south, dusty and brown, like somebody had run there with a bucket and had spilled them. They looked down and they knew who worked and who didn’t and who owns the world when everything lies quiet. A truck had just pulled away. Dynamite and I stood still in the alley and the voice of the wind came rising through the boards and rails reminding us that man is very small and the earth by night is very long and lonely.

A sumptuously written tale of a young man showing up in an unfamiliar place to take on a new job, to learn the ropes, learn the people. It is rife with the “here’s what it feels like to be the new guy” observations.

And as the above extract demonstrates, Mr. Easton’s craft and deeply-felt observation shows on each page.

On one hand, a slight tale, on the other hand—a work of art. I’m grateful for having read it.

The Tallest Indian in Toltepec by Will Henry

“I said get down, Indio,” he smiled. “You do not listen too well. What is the matter? Do you not trust your Mexican brothers?”

Diaz was small in body only. In heart he was a mountain.

A story of the Mexican Revolution, vicious bandidos, and hope amongst native peoples.

The tale opens strong with a grim tone that is in the region of hard-as-nails Elmore Leonard but…

Unfortunately, to this reader’s taste, it takes a turn towards the mawkish as the focus shifts to a child’s perspective. Though the eyes of the young many fine tales have been told, but here the child feels somewhat stiff and a mere stand-in for story exposition.

Strong start, there’s always that.

The Shaming of Broken Horn by Bill Gulick

As dark came on and the fires burned low, they sat huddled together, their backs against a wagon for safety’s sake, listening to the drums in the Indian village. Mary was frightened now, but looking around, seeing the grim looks on the faces of her menfolk as they balanced their rifles across their knees, she was sure of one thing—her men would act like men if the need arose, and she was proud of them all.

The “shaming” is a serio-comic event that occurs in the course of a wagon train journey. Many of the familiar themes are here: the stoic and wise Westerner, the “too sure of himself” Easterner, the inquisitive young ‘un, the proud and beautiful damsel.

All the elements are familiar, it’s done well, but it has the leftover flavor of watching an episode of Wagon Train. Fans of that TV show should find this enjoyable tale.

Blood on the Sun by Thomas Thompson

The thin man laughed, a high wild sound. “Where I come from, punk,” he said to Ted, “you wouldn’t live to be as tall as you think you are.”

A good story from the rock-solid Thomas Thompson. Here we have a man called “Preacher” who is not exactly that. The tale is a bit bifurcated as the fist half is the usual superlative work from Thompson, but it seems to go a bit formulaic in the second half.

It doesn’t stop it from being a good read, but Thompson, being a fine writer, has delivered more.

Here, I measure him against himself.

Grandfather Out of the Past by Noel M. Loomis

He looked at her, trying to decide what hunger was. Was it a gnawing in a man’s stomach, or was it a lonesomeness of the heart, or was it, sometimes, a thing that ate a man’s brain from the inside, like that which showed in the yes of Quahuahacante [Dead Hide]?

This book is steeped in Comanche culture, steeped so deeply it resonates with an authenticity that mere Internet searches would put to shame.

As a Comanche-phile myself [I have been learning the language for the past three years] veracity can be found on every page of this tale of a warrior past his prime but still a warrior in his heart and in his ethics.

A mature and authoritative tale.

A Town Named Hate by John Prebble

Martha Boyd sat in a corner during the town meeting. Now and then she looked across the room to Jason, and once he smiled to her reassuringly, and the smile was a bridge between them across the smoke and the heat and the hate in the room.

A stunner!

A story of a small town with forgotten promise, a long-dead tragedy and a mistake to latch vengeful hopes on.

Insight to burn, atmosphere that seethes, and a plot that boils start to finish.

Masterful!

The Captives by Elmore Leonard

Brennan jumped down and rolled Rintoon over gently, holding his head off the ground. He looked at the motionless form and then at Chink. “He’s dead.”

Chink stood with his legs apart and looked down at Brennan indifferently. “Sure he is.”

“You didn’t have to kill him.”

Chink shrugged. “I would’ve sooner, or later.”

“Why?”

“That’s the way it is.”

That passage highlights Dutch Leonard’s easy laconic way with dialogue, postures, small gestures. He spends no time on inner this or subconscious that, and yet his work never feels formulaic. His men and women are fully formed creatures whose lives are expressed in actions or the small gestures that take the place of thwarted actions.

This story was made into a good film, The Tall T, but for my money, the source is smart and rugged head-and-shoulders above even that fine work.

An excellent story.

Three-Ten to Yuma by Elmore Leonard

Scallen glanced at the man across the street and then to Jim Kidd. “Come here.” He nodded to the window. “Tell me who your friend is over there.”

Kidd half rose and leaned over looking out the window, then sat down again. “Charlie Prince.”

“Somebody else just went for help.”

“Charlie doesn’t need help.”

Dutch Leonard has been manufacturing smooth, cool, laconic prose since the very beginning of his career. Crime or Western, either way, you’re most likely in for a fine ride.

This classic story is probably familiar to most since we’ve had two film versions of it.

It cooks along well and is marked by Leonard’s spare style and his easy insight into assessing the figure in front of you. Few match him for those moments of reading a character’s make-up in small actions.

A fine story indeed.