Short Stories & Tall Tales by Christopher Scott
Christopher Scott started writing short stories at age 50.
Seeing the need for an outlet by which western authors could promote their work, he started Rope and Wire.
The western Lifestyle Online Community has grown steadily since it first came online in 2007 and is currently the number one western short story website on most major search engines.
The Lone Oak
Christopher Scott
The old red oak tree was majestic. That went without saying. It had had over two hundred years to perfect itself. Its mighty branches covered most of the quarter acre lot assigned to it and the massive trunk was an impressive chunk of timber. The lone tree stood atop a small rise, next to an old dilapidated barn in the middle of what was once a forty-acre horse pasture. Two men, land developers, stood at its base, contemplating its fate.
The Hunter Creek Incident
Christopher Scott
Justin Bradley and his younger brother, Bill, were heading into town bright and early one Saturday morning. They were on their way to the Winfield General Store to pick up their good friend, Ellis Pratt. The three boys had planned to spend the day at their favorite fishing hole. The morning air was crisp and cool, but the cloudless sky would soon prove itself to be a beautiful, warm and sunny summer day.
The Bounty Hunter
Christopher Scott
The Callaway brothers had always worked alone. They were a callous duo, ruthless and underhanded, never trusting anyone and never hesitating to shoot a man in the back if they thought it would be to their advantage. That’s why it was such a surprise to those who knew the men, to hear they had teamed up with another notorious outlaw named Johnny Bad.
The Drovers
Christopher Scott
The Redeye saloon was as quiet as a church on Monday morning. Necks were craned forward, heads were slightly cocked, and all ears were straining to hear the young drover’s response. If this had been a Sunday morning sermon, the towns preacher would have been in seventh heaven to receive the same rapt attention these men were paying to this stranger in their midst’s.
The question put to the drover was nothing new. It had been asked of men much older, wiser and meaner than this young man.
Picks’ Folly
Christopher Scott
Sheriff John Stone stepped out from the cool shade of his office into the heat of the noonday sun. Reaching his fingers into the small watch pocket of his vest he deftly fished out a wooden match. With the flick of his wrist he scratched the match on a nearby post and it instantly burst into flame. He held it to the tip of the smoke he had just rolled and inhaled deeply. As easily as he had lit the match, he flicked it to the ground, smothering the flame in the dust of the street.
