Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Pale Horse by Robert L. Ross (top 20 books to read .txt) 📖
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the gunman's pistol, encouraging him into surrendering the small fortune he carried with him. Finnius needed no such encouragement, and quickly adhered to the gunman's wishes.
The 707 was at a complete halt now, and several gunshots were being heard towards the front of the train, as the other bandits were no doubt robbing the mail room just 3 cars ahead of the coach that Colt and his fellow passengers occupied. The cowboy, while stealing the jewelery of diamonds and other assorted emeralds from the woman who had made the trip sitting directly across from him, began to yell at the young mother of two to give up her possessions as well, when her young son walked up to the bandit and kicked him in the shin, demanding that the robber leave his mother alone and “give everyone their stuff back”. The gunman slapped the brazen child with the barrel of his weapon and sent him sprawling across the floor, now bleeding and squalling from the pain received. The mother, undaunted, and determined from the sheer anger of the stranger striking her child, refused to give up what possessions she had, and made it clear to the outlaw as he approached her and slapped her, gun in hand, as he had previously done to her son. When the mother, now bruised and bleeding once more refused the man, he reached down, and picking the 7 year old daughter of hers up off the floor screaming by her hair, and holding the pistol to the child's head said,” “Remove the necklace and bracelets lady, or watch her die right here in front of you.”! The mother, now crying hysterically, began to remove her necklace as the 14inch Elk-bone handle double sided blade of fury known as “The shadow of Death” flew with menacing purpose across the room and deeply penetrated the would be robbers skull from the left side, which left him immediately paralyzed and dead on the floor, inquisitive cold eyes still wide open as to inquire where the sudden and unexpected death had been dealt from.
Pale Horse and Colt immediately retrieved their weapons and stepped off the train to deal with the others that were robbing the mail car. As Colt circled the mail car to the left, Pale Horse stayed just out of sight between the car itself, and the one just behind it. The plan was an easy one, rather than charging the doorway to the rail car and risking injury or even death, they would simply wait for the bandits to make themselves known as they stepped out of the mail car to mount their horses, still thinking there was no opposition and their escape was successful and at hand. With both pistols drawn by the two bounty hunters and trained at the opening of the rail car, Pale Horse and Colt waited till each of the 5 riders were out of the car and in the open before the swift hands of justice once more brushed back the shameless hammers of their Colt .45s, and with 24 lead invitations, sent each of the outlaws with a one way ticket into the fires of hell. Pale Horse and Colt both reached down and picked up the bags of railroad money and threw them back into the mail car, where a bruised and beaten postal attendant was glad to receive them. While Jimmy and Finnius were kindly seeing to the people that were riding in their passenger car, returning the things that were taken from them, and addressing the wounds received, Pale Horse, after removing his bone-handled knife from the outlaw, threw the lifeless body of the bandit onto the ground below, where he and Colt lined him and the others up under the car behind their own, to be cut in half and left for other marauders to see.
As the black and carnivorous birds of prey picked and feasted on the rancid flesh of the would be robbers now rotting in the noonday sun, Colt Mathews and Pale Horse Rankin were being treated as modern day heroes by their fellow passengers and the drinks were flowing as quick as the miles they put behind them. Pale Horse wasn't offended by this gesture, better yet, he was quite relieved that they chose to show their thanks in just the manner they had chosen. The mother of the two children didn't hesitate to show her appreciation though, and not only hugged and thanked the two heroes, but kissed them both rather passionately while doing so. Jimmy Jack and Finnius gathered a large sum of money between them, divided the sum in two, and unknown to Colt or Pale Horse, secretly had the bartender slip them, along with a thank you note signed by each of their fellow passengers into both of their jackets that hung at the front of the rail car. When they stopped momentarily in the Dodge City, Kansas, the conductor took it upon himself to wire the main railroad office, who in turn, wired the railroad station in Oklahoma City of the recent events and the heroism of the two bounty hunters that had saved not only the payroll for the railroad employees, but possibly others lives as well.
A brief, 15 minute stop-over in Dodge City, just long enough to unload some of the passengers and take on several more, and the 707 steamed once more on its way to Oklahoma City. The conversations among the passengers seemed solely about the marauding bandits that had tried desperately to rob the train, and the way the two bounty hunters had bravely saved the day. Several passengers whispered discreetly under their breaths, questioning as to why the heroes chose to put the deceased bodies of the outlaws under one of the cars to be purposely mutilated. The rumors were flying as to who these bounty hunters were, and what would possess them to do such a thing. Finnius, after quite a few whiskey cocktails, finally found the courage within himself to ask Pale Horse of their motives for such a blatant and dastardly deed. “Not to question or impugn your judgment Sir, but it seems that everyone aboard is quite curious as to why the two of you chose to treat the deceased in such a brutal manner, rather than simply lying them aside the tracks”? Pale Horse had overheard the whisperings and mutterings that circulated within the room and knew it was a matter of time before someone asked such a question. He, with his daunting 6'4” frame towering over the diminutive horse-trader, took a swig off his Irish Jacks and answered their questions in such a way to lay all speculation aside. “Rumors have a way of spreading like mountainous wildfire, and by doing what we have done here today, discouraging others who may be of the same notion, therefore leaving the next set of passengers a mite safer than those of you who chose this journey today, besides, I was of the mind to scalp the verminous scum, but was dissuaded by my partner for each of your sakes, and that my friend, will be the last that either I, or he shall speak of it.” Finnius, nodding his head, now crystal clear of their motive and a bit intimidated by the finality of his tone, raised his glass and toasted Pale Horse and his companion as he once more thanked him for his bravery. “I would like to be the first to say, before my partner beats me to it, we owe you our lives and sincere gratitude, and if you're ever in need of anything at all, money, horses, cattle, or accommodations, feel more than free to look us up in O.K. City, at our place of business, Jackson & Reynolds Livestock Exchange, you'll find it in the center of town next to the McGregor's General Store. “My partner and I both thank you, and may very well take you up on that generous offer somewhere down the road”, Pale Horse replied as he once more took his seat and continued staring out the window.
Meanwhile, just up ahead in Oklahoma City, Shane Walters and his men were playing poker, laughing it up and drinking to their recent fortune, while Walters sister, Alisha, and Walters henchman Donovan Lee, watched over the women they had abducted from the Double R Ranch. “I'm of the mind to drag that pretty little blonde to my hotel room this evening for a little recreation, said William, “If' that's alright with you Shane.” Shane laid 3 kings and a pair of deuces on the table, and while laughing as he slid his winnings towards him said, “I don't care what you do with her, just make sure you don't kill her or let her escape,” then looking up at him, he said with deadly conviction to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation, “If you do either of the things I've just told you not to, I will hang you from the nearest tree and watch as the buzzards have their way with you.” The others at the table were near silent as Shane made his intentions clear, knowing that he damn well meant every word. Rooster spoke up out of curiosity and asked Shane, now dealing the next hand of which he was sure to win, “What is it you have in mind for those women Shane, seeing that we brought them all the way here instead of letting them go when we got the money?” “I'll take two,” said Chris, oblivious to the conversation going on in front of him. Shane dealt the cards needed, and while fulfilling the card request of the other players at the table explained to Rooster. “The answer to your question I'd think would be obvious, you simple minded fool, if we can get $100,000 from that oilman once, we can get it again, if not more!” Wayne Martin spoke up as he laid his cards on the table once more in disgust, his luck, or lack of it, wasn't going his way on this evening. “We're gonna milk that cow till she runs dry, yes siree Bob.” Martin wasn't the brightest of outlaws, but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up in sheer meanness and toughness. He'd been shot four times while riding away from a botched bank hold up, one of the bullets disfiguring his face and leaving him downright hideous. One of the saloon whores walked up and asked if she could accommodate any of the men sitting at the table when Shane pulled her into his lap and whispered something she didn't seem to care for into her ear. She immediately got up and poured the remainder of his beer on his lap before trying to walk away. He grabbed her by the hair, and while he called her names somewhat fitting to her profession, he withdrew his knife and cut a foot of her hair off and threw it at her feet. The other fella's at the table laughed at the spectacle and verbally reduced her to tears as she ran upstairs, drowning in her humiliation. Shane had little time for women, especially those with any sort of attitude and the mouth to go with it. More than once had he cut a whore up for saying the wrong thing while performing the services for which he was paying. It didn't take long for any of the working girls in any town he spent time with to get the word around, that even though he often frequented their establishments of carnal pleasures and decadence, he had little time for them else wise, and was quick to point out their discretion and poor choice of profession whenever he wasn't behind the proverbial closed doors with one of them. He truly had a mean streak a mile wide, and twice as long, and very little tolerance for
The 707 was at a complete halt now, and several gunshots were being heard towards the front of the train, as the other bandits were no doubt robbing the mail room just 3 cars ahead of the coach that Colt and his fellow passengers occupied. The cowboy, while stealing the jewelery of diamonds and other assorted emeralds from the woman who had made the trip sitting directly across from him, began to yell at the young mother of two to give up her possessions as well, when her young son walked up to the bandit and kicked him in the shin, demanding that the robber leave his mother alone and “give everyone their stuff back”. The gunman slapped the brazen child with the barrel of his weapon and sent him sprawling across the floor, now bleeding and squalling from the pain received. The mother, undaunted, and determined from the sheer anger of the stranger striking her child, refused to give up what possessions she had, and made it clear to the outlaw as he approached her and slapped her, gun in hand, as he had previously done to her son. When the mother, now bruised and bleeding once more refused the man, he reached down, and picking the 7 year old daughter of hers up off the floor screaming by her hair, and holding the pistol to the child's head said,” “Remove the necklace and bracelets lady, or watch her die right here in front of you.”! The mother, now crying hysterically, began to remove her necklace as the 14inch Elk-bone handle double sided blade of fury known as “The shadow of Death” flew with menacing purpose across the room and deeply penetrated the would be robbers skull from the left side, which left him immediately paralyzed and dead on the floor, inquisitive cold eyes still wide open as to inquire where the sudden and unexpected death had been dealt from.
Pale Horse and Colt immediately retrieved their weapons and stepped off the train to deal with the others that were robbing the mail car. As Colt circled the mail car to the left, Pale Horse stayed just out of sight between the car itself, and the one just behind it. The plan was an easy one, rather than charging the doorway to the rail car and risking injury or even death, they would simply wait for the bandits to make themselves known as they stepped out of the mail car to mount their horses, still thinking there was no opposition and their escape was successful and at hand. With both pistols drawn by the two bounty hunters and trained at the opening of the rail car, Pale Horse and Colt waited till each of the 5 riders were out of the car and in the open before the swift hands of justice once more brushed back the shameless hammers of their Colt .45s, and with 24 lead invitations, sent each of the outlaws with a one way ticket into the fires of hell. Pale Horse and Colt both reached down and picked up the bags of railroad money and threw them back into the mail car, where a bruised and beaten postal attendant was glad to receive them. While Jimmy and Finnius were kindly seeing to the people that were riding in their passenger car, returning the things that were taken from them, and addressing the wounds received, Pale Horse, after removing his bone-handled knife from the outlaw, threw the lifeless body of the bandit onto the ground below, where he and Colt lined him and the others up under the car behind their own, to be cut in half and left for other marauders to see.
As the black and carnivorous birds of prey picked and feasted on the rancid flesh of the would be robbers now rotting in the noonday sun, Colt Mathews and Pale Horse Rankin were being treated as modern day heroes by their fellow passengers and the drinks were flowing as quick as the miles they put behind them. Pale Horse wasn't offended by this gesture, better yet, he was quite relieved that they chose to show their thanks in just the manner they had chosen. The mother of the two children didn't hesitate to show her appreciation though, and not only hugged and thanked the two heroes, but kissed them both rather passionately while doing so. Jimmy Jack and Finnius gathered a large sum of money between them, divided the sum in two, and unknown to Colt or Pale Horse, secretly had the bartender slip them, along with a thank you note signed by each of their fellow passengers into both of their jackets that hung at the front of the rail car. When they stopped momentarily in the Dodge City, Kansas, the conductor took it upon himself to wire the main railroad office, who in turn, wired the railroad station in Oklahoma City of the recent events and the heroism of the two bounty hunters that had saved not only the payroll for the railroad employees, but possibly others lives as well.
A brief, 15 minute stop-over in Dodge City, just long enough to unload some of the passengers and take on several more, and the 707 steamed once more on its way to Oklahoma City. The conversations among the passengers seemed solely about the marauding bandits that had tried desperately to rob the train, and the way the two bounty hunters had bravely saved the day. Several passengers whispered discreetly under their breaths, questioning as to why the heroes chose to put the deceased bodies of the outlaws under one of the cars to be purposely mutilated. The rumors were flying as to who these bounty hunters were, and what would possess them to do such a thing. Finnius, after quite a few whiskey cocktails, finally found the courage within himself to ask Pale Horse of their motives for such a blatant and dastardly deed. “Not to question or impugn your judgment Sir, but it seems that everyone aboard is quite curious as to why the two of you chose to treat the deceased in such a brutal manner, rather than simply lying them aside the tracks”? Pale Horse had overheard the whisperings and mutterings that circulated within the room and knew it was a matter of time before someone asked such a question. He, with his daunting 6'4” frame towering over the diminutive horse-trader, took a swig off his Irish Jacks and answered their questions in such a way to lay all speculation aside. “Rumors have a way of spreading like mountainous wildfire, and by doing what we have done here today, discouraging others who may be of the same notion, therefore leaving the next set of passengers a mite safer than those of you who chose this journey today, besides, I was of the mind to scalp the verminous scum, but was dissuaded by my partner for each of your sakes, and that my friend, will be the last that either I, or he shall speak of it.” Finnius, nodding his head, now crystal clear of their motive and a bit intimidated by the finality of his tone, raised his glass and toasted Pale Horse and his companion as he once more thanked him for his bravery. “I would like to be the first to say, before my partner beats me to it, we owe you our lives and sincere gratitude, and if you're ever in need of anything at all, money, horses, cattle, or accommodations, feel more than free to look us up in O.K. City, at our place of business, Jackson & Reynolds Livestock Exchange, you'll find it in the center of town next to the McGregor's General Store. “My partner and I both thank you, and may very well take you up on that generous offer somewhere down the road”, Pale Horse replied as he once more took his seat and continued staring out the window.
Meanwhile, just up ahead in Oklahoma City, Shane Walters and his men were playing poker, laughing it up and drinking to their recent fortune, while Walters sister, Alisha, and Walters henchman Donovan Lee, watched over the women they had abducted from the Double R Ranch. “I'm of the mind to drag that pretty little blonde to my hotel room this evening for a little recreation, said William, “If' that's alright with you Shane.” Shane laid 3 kings and a pair of deuces on the table, and while laughing as he slid his winnings towards him said, “I don't care what you do with her, just make sure you don't kill her or let her escape,” then looking up at him, he said with deadly conviction to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation, “If you do either of the things I've just told you not to, I will hang you from the nearest tree and watch as the buzzards have their way with you.” The others at the table were near silent as Shane made his intentions clear, knowing that he damn well meant every word. Rooster spoke up out of curiosity and asked Shane, now dealing the next hand of which he was sure to win, “What is it you have in mind for those women Shane, seeing that we brought them all the way here instead of letting them go when we got the money?” “I'll take two,” said Chris, oblivious to the conversation going on in front of him. Shane dealt the cards needed, and while fulfilling the card request of the other players at the table explained to Rooster. “The answer to your question I'd think would be obvious, you simple minded fool, if we can get $100,000 from that oilman once, we can get it again, if not more!” Wayne Martin spoke up as he laid his cards on the table once more in disgust, his luck, or lack of it, wasn't going his way on this evening. “We're gonna milk that cow till she runs dry, yes siree Bob.” Martin wasn't the brightest of outlaws, but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up in sheer meanness and toughness. He'd been shot four times while riding away from a botched bank hold up, one of the bullets disfiguring his face and leaving him downright hideous. One of the saloon whores walked up and asked if she could accommodate any of the men sitting at the table when Shane pulled her into his lap and whispered something she didn't seem to care for into her ear. She immediately got up and poured the remainder of his beer on his lap before trying to walk away. He grabbed her by the hair, and while he called her names somewhat fitting to her profession, he withdrew his knife and cut a foot of her hair off and threw it at her feet. The other fella's at the table laughed at the spectacle and verbally reduced her to tears as she ran upstairs, drowning in her humiliation. Shane had little time for women, especially those with any sort of attitude and the mouth to go with it. More than once had he cut a whore up for saying the wrong thing while performing the services for which he was paying. It didn't take long for any of the working girls in any town he spent time with to get the word around, that even though he often frequented their establishments of carnal pleasures and decadence, he had little time for them else wise, and was quick to point out their discretion and poor choice of profession whenever he wasn't behind the proverbial closed doors with one of them. He truly had a mean streak a mile wide, and twice as long, and very little tolerance for
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