Pale Horse Coming
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The year is 1951. A smooth talking Chicago lawyer has come to chat with Sam Vincent, a former prosecutor, about a dangerous unknown - a prison for violent black convicts in Thebes, Mississippi, a place of many questions but no answers. Would Sam, a white man and a Southener, be willing to investigate? When Sam vanishes in the mists and swamps, his old friend Earl Swagger packs his gun and heads to Thebes where he discovers sinister secrets that go far beyond the prison walls. The whole town guards itself from nosy strangers with a private army of brutal, gun-toting, klan type thugs and rednecks. After barely escaping, Earl vows to right things and reclaim Thebes from the throes of a sinister conspiracy. But first, he enlists just a little help from his friends.
looking for a place to have a church prefabricated under crash conditions, as he had told Earl. In fact, had Earl and Sam seen what happened next, it would have boggled their minds no end at all. For with no hesitation whatsoever, Mr. Trugood's driver headed them downtown and swiftly found the town hall on Pascagoula Street, where a crowd had gathered and some sort of festivity was soon to commence. The driver guided the large black car to the curbside, where indeed a red carpet lay, its
they have to put a man down, they have to put him down fast and solid, and Jack has done his research. It shoots gigantic shells that seem like ostrich eggs in their heaviness and density. Jack deposits each into the gaping chambers in the cylinder, then gently locks the cylinder shut. The gun trembles when he does so and, loaded, the whole weapon feels charged with electricity, with stored energy. Immense and sagacious, it waits to speak. Bill, taciturn and controlled in all things, is the
violence. In a way, they represented all the evil that men could wreak on the world, impressed upon the innocence of a dumb, brute animal. He saw that in the kennel where it was the rule of the pack, a rough-and-tumble world of tooth and fang. A big blue seemed to run the place, and he kept the young dogs away with the strength of glare and intensity. Just like in the human world. That's why Earl never wanted any part of a pack. Meanwhile, an old man who worked the dogs looked more dog than
you is, Opic. Seen goddamn old Pepper do it. Get to it." As Opic bent and faked love to the squirming, prideful hound, the sheriff turned and drew his Heavy-Duty and fired a shot. "Okay, boys," he said. "Let me tell you how we goin' do this thang. That track can't be more that three miles ahead. So now it's a goddamned race, and I am too much a old man. I will slow you down. Opic, you and Skeeter take off them packs. We will leave the packs here. I just want you with your rifles running
Regretfully he tossed his pack and pistol into a hollow log; he couldn't afford the weight. The dogs were loud now. He knew they'd take the bait. That was the way their minds worked. But he had a moment where he wondered if he hadn't been wiser to have just set up and shot the dogs as they came upon them. But who knew when they'd be here and maybe he'd not have time after shooting them to get to the train himself. No, of the choices, all of them bad, this was the best. He worked his way along