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Western Short Stories
Tom Sheehan

​Western short stories Bio. of Tom Sheehan

Sheehan (31st Infantry, Korea 1951-52; Boston College 1952-1956) has multiple works in Rosebud, Linnet’s Wings, Serving House Journal, Literally Stories, Copperfield ReviewLiterary OrphansIndiana Voices Journal, Frontier TalesWestern Online, Faith-Hope and Fiction, EastlitRope & Wire Magazine, The Literary Yard, Green Silk Journal, Fiction on the Web, The Path, etc. He has 16 Pushcart nominations, 6 Best of the Net nominations (one winner).

Later book publications include The CowboysBeside the Broken TrailIn the Garden of Long Shadows, Between Mountain and River, Catch a Wagon to a Star, and Jock Poems and Reflections for Proper Bostonians, by Pocol Press, and Jehrico by Danse Macabre. Back Home in Saugus (a collection) is being considered, as is Beneath My Feet This Earth Slips into the Far-side of Another’s Telescope and Pages from Fallen Books. In production status is The Grand Royal Stand-off at Darby’s Creek and Other Stories at Pocol Press.

Recent releases include  Small Victories for the Soul VII, from Wilderness House Literary Review, and Alone, with the Good Graces from Pocol Press. He was Danse Macabre’s 2016 Writer-in-Residence in Las Vegas.

Here's a link to Tom's LinkedIn profile>>

After a long day ridin’, ropin’, and sometimes rustlin’, cowpokes love to stop by a local saloon to wet their whistles. Card playing, loose talking, and fighting always ensued, some in good fun and others deadly serious. In this collection of stories, author Tom Sheehan rides and relaxes with them all. You’re in the right place for rollickingly good western yarns.

Seventeen western short stories by Tom Sheehan.

Here's a link to all of Tom's books on Amazon>>

Western Short Stories by Tom Sheehan

Wagon Wheels Saloon

Tom Sheehan

When Judge Thor Malloy opened his Wagon Wheels Saloon. on the outskirts of Bentley’s Porch in East Texas, he figured the town would grow up around his place of business. As he looked at the newly erected building, he knew he needed an outside attraction to pull at the interests of passers-by. Read the full story HERE>>

Wellington Welcome Whosely, Texas Gunsmith

Tom Sheehan

“Double Yew” as a nickname for our character quickly lost its appeal in all places, but mostly in any saloon he was visiting, and became “Dub” twice as quick. From its first pronouncement in Houston’s Hazard Saloon, the nickname flourished for Whosely, and when he became a top-gunhand for the biggest spread in that part of Texas, the name “Dub” followed him through every adventure on and off a horse. Read the full story HERE>> 

Wrigley Welles, Pecos Lawman

Tom Sheehan

Wrigley Welles was law’s name, the very last word on law, in The Pecos Wilderness, the southernmost extension of the Rocky Mountains in the range of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of north central New Mexico. He was, more than a sheriff or marshal, but a mountain climber, a cliff-scaler, a rider of horses on an uphill rise until sense told him it was about to become a foot-chase for a killer, a thief, a kidnapper, or a gunman of notorious deeds. Read the full story HERE>>

The Wishing Well Invasion

Tom Sheehan

Burt Knowles, 18, full of energy and old time stories about the old, old West, was a new hire at the Wishing Well Ranch, and the first thing he checked out was the morning exercises at The Well situated on the lowest piece of land on the ranch, and away from the barn big as a Hallelujah in the morning. Read the full story HERE>>

Yakima Escapades

Tom Sheehan

From one minute of the day to the next, Neckwrek Handel-Handel sang the song endlessly, “Ain’t No Jail Aholtin’ Me,” sang it, mouthed it, uttered it, yelled it. For his five years in Yakima Territorial Prison the guards always knew where he was, in what disposition, secure in one cell or another, or laboring on a prison work detail. Prisoner #127 was known by the only name ever used by him, Neckwrek Handel-Handel, but history had other versions that are worth unveiling if the man is to be known if not understood. Read the full story HERE>>

The Black Stallion Brigades

Tom Sheehan

Dawkins Harold Embross, first called “Dawk” then called “Doc,” finally agreed he was “Doc,” degree or no degree, because his fetish, need, personal rage, was black stallions that he could raise and rate, and the blacker, the stronger, the better off he felt. Read the full story HERE>>

The Ragged Rider

Tom Sheehan

Theona Harmon saw the horseman from her cabin rooftop where she’d been patching a heat leak Her favored stallion, sole black horse in her small remuda, alerting her with a snicker and a look afar. That far rider appeared to be listing in the saddle, twisted to one side, possibly carrying a slug from a handgun, once entering his frame, now raising its particular havoc. Read the full story HERE>>

Saturday Night Fever in Cummings, Colorado

Tom Sheehan

Tellie Comanado and Roby Ward, half-brothers and twice removed, as they would often add, had come off the grounds off the High Calib Ranch on the outskirts of Cummings, a small, but zesty town in mid-Colorado, bound for a day and night of freedom, fun and frolic. Read the full story HERE>>

Trade Winds

Tom Sheehan

Old-school, blustery Kirk Gibbs, Sr., sent his new-school son, Kirk Jr., on his 17th birthday, out on a trip to buy some horses for the ranch, getting ready for a new cattle drive to market. The father sent off his son with a pat on the back and a satchel with money for the upcoming purchase. Read the full story here>>

Gun Shy

Tom Sheehan

“I’m telling you gents that the old man, Jeb Carlton, out there at the edge of town with his wife Mildred and daughter Millicent told me straight out that some no-good rat stole both his hand guns and both his rifles clean out of the house. Clean outta the house, he said, just like that.” Read the full story HERE>>

The Big Tree

Tom Sheehan

Most people around the southwest desert part of the country guessed the lone tree living for who knows how long on the sandy soil, was a Mexican Palo Verde beast, thick at its midpoint, heavy with twisted branches, and it had been around long enough to have shielded Ace Palmer’s father from bandits who had raided the stagecoach of the passengers’ goods. Read the full story HERE>>

Heaven, Right off the Saddle

Tom Sheehan

Larry Murray was on his way across a long range of grass and little else; no herds of cattle on the move, no sheep eating away on all the little they’d find otherwise, no pack of wild horses offering great promise on the hoof, not a wolf or wild dog in sight, just as if this part of the West had made itself presentable for a keen and wandering eye. Right from the outset, we tend to believe Larry had such an eye. Read the full story HERE>>

The Wagon Master

Tom Sheehan

His voice owned every conversation, and thus every demand, so response came to be an expected result, in plain talk, jaw talk, business at hand. Alton Breed was addressed as “Albi”, which came with his branding iron, LB, every chance he could use it, on every unbranded, wild, loose, found critter found anyplace. Unbranded became his property sooner than later, and meant horses, cattle, donkeys, and you name it if it hasn’t got a name. Read the full story HERE>>

Shot of Shots, Shooter of Shooters or Diggin’ Deep

Tom Sheehan

He went by the name of Plain Slim; all he was ever called because nobody asked why or otherwise, just Plain Slim, but he is the best gunhand still unknown in most of the West. Read the full story HERE>>

A New Rope and an Old Saddle

Tom Sheehan

At fourteen, on his birthday, Lance Burlly got a new lariat from his father and a saddle practically as old as he was, but they were his, and somewhere in the day, he just knew, there was a horse to mount them and him, his own horse. Read the full story HERE>>

Read more western short stories by Tom Sheehan in the <<Ranch Romance>> and the <<Side Trail>> sections

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