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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 Review, Literary 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 33 Pushcart nominations, 5 Best of the Net nominations (one winner).

Later book publications include The CowboysBeside the Broken Trail, In the Garden of Long Shadows, Between Mountain and River, and, shortly, Catch a Wagon to a Star, by Pocol Press, and Jehrico by Danse Macabre. Back Home in Saugus (a collection) is being considered, as are Small Victories for the Soul VII, Korean Echoes, Jock Poems for Proper Bostonians, The One Way to Get Home, and Alone with the Good Graces. 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


Joshua Jenks, Odds to Evens

Tom Sheehan

The west Texas sun had a special shine to it for the first sight of Marla Jenks’ new-born son whose name, on her mind for much of the nine whole months she toted him around. was always to be Joshua Jenks come unto her in a dream. Texas, daily, was a hard place to dream but she was adamant in holding onto hers. Uppermost in most minds was daily survival, a knock-down, get-up-quick existence from dawn to dusk, and into the serious night far enough to need dreams to feed dreams.  Read the full story HERE>>


Sherman “Shakie” Tucker and Golden Mary

Tom Sheehan

He was born a lefty, nervous as a kitten in a dog pound, passed over too often as a playmate, but loved the guns that were anathema to his hands shaking morning until night. From that auspicious start in Calico Flats, by friend and foe came the nickname “Shakie.”  Read the full story HERE>>


Joey Charlo and the Big Black Bear

Tom Sheehan

When prospector Joey Charlo built his cabin in front of a cave on Colorado’s Flake Mountain area, he was planning to spend a year in the area looking for his dream cache. After checking out the cave as far as he figured he needed, he saw no signs of habitation and figured it was a good spot in case of an emergency;  Read the full story HERE>>


One Way through Glass Pass

Tom Sheehan

The shining off a granite portion of the Rocky Mountains near a Nevada chunk of mountain known as Glass Pass is often spectacular at certain time of the day and certain times of the year. The minerals in its granite base, an igneous rock, make it so, being quartz, feldspar, mica, and a dose of hornblende. It is said such places, worthy of sight here and there, may shine like the sun itself. and attracts many observers. Read the full story HERE>>


The Small War of Kurt Knobson

Tom Sheehan

Some of the other wranglers said Kurt was the most literative of them all, and quite a few of them had no idea of what the word meant, but it stuck on him and began to earn a few side saddle additions, like smart ass on a pony, and the big word spiller or spitter, all the other so-called approaches or reflections not mounting to a heap of spoiled beans. Read the full story HERE>>


Being a Cowtown Santa for a Time

Tom Sheehan

Christmas was coming. Who'd be Santa Claus had suddenly gotten sticky.

There had to be forty or so kids living in the town, all of them in squashed-in rooms in a dozen buildings, the pigeons on the roof often mingling with the kids at tall hide-'n'-seek, romances in dark budding, now and then some contraband or stolen goods getting exposed, two or three gymnasts every generation that managed and used the roof tops for exercises, dares, escapes of one sort or another. Merton Place, from various points of view, was a western city in itself.

And Christmas was coming. It was around the corner.  Read the full story HERE>>


Ransom Doak, Shooter Extraordinaire

Tom Sheehan

From the day, the very first day, when a pistol came into his hand, from his mother, of all people, young Ransom Doak knew the edge, beauty and balance of its comfort. He was six-years old handling his first gun, his mother approaching 40 years, and her husband dead at the hands of a marauder looking for a cheap and quick meal from the lady in a log cabin only an echo outside the small town of Small Parallels, Texas.  Read the full story HERE>>


Two Fingers in the Stew

Tom Sheehan

Doug Flankers was the trail cook for the whole crew of the drive to market, to where he had no clue nor care. His new job was to keep the crew, the whole lot of them, happy in the saddle, happy on their patch of ground in their single wrap-arounds during the night, working on a decent sleep. Read the full story HERE>>


The Break in the Fence

Tom Sheehan

Bridge Harmon came over hill from a visit to Road Gap, the nearest collection of buildings in East Texas, his end of the world. He sat his saddle for a spell when he saw his two teen-age sons working on a broken-down section of the corral fence. Something had happened while he was in town for mere hours and he wondered how it got that way.   Read the full story HERE>>


The Judge and Jury Ensemble

Tom Sheehan

Craig Gabler ducked into a nearby cave when a sudden windstorm came across the whole region from the north, the wind with a bite in it mad as a runaway. He’d been loose from the Yuma prison for a few days, on the escape route from the first jiggle of a key well after midnight, bought and paid for, passage guaranteed through the recent death room of prisoners found dead in their cells, two of them that very day. Read the full story HERE>>


The Outlaws’ Outlaw

Tom Sheehan

Bailey Bastion, called different names at different times, had been addressed, or taunted, as Baby Bailey, Baby Bailey B, Baby B, Baby, and finally as Babs, the cruelest of all for the old west, or headed that way. This flight from the taunts and screams following him out of town after town, until he ended up, squirreled into the upper reaches of an old barn, still leaning with each wind, on the edge of a Montana town going by the odd name of One Capital, even then being spelled with two A’s or one A and one O, it not yet being decided firmly what it was. One Capital or One Capitol.  Read the full story HERE>>


Chowda

Tom Sheehan

His name was Thurrel Chowder, vagrant of sorts, whose name to all came to be Chowda in a rapid hurry and who was hired by the previous sheriff of Cannon City to be chief cleaner-upper and major domo of the municipal jail and sheriff’s office. He was trusted by the other sheriff and the current one because each one thought Chowda was too dumb to do anything wrong, anything other than sweep, dust, dump trash, yell when a prisoner made too much noise, count the prisoners behind bars every night as darkness descended and made sure they were all there in the morning.      Read the full story HERE>>


Dishonor Returns

Tom Sheehan

After two years in jail for a false charge before a crooked judge, Twist Cochran returned to Elgansor, Texas to get back his badge now on the chest of a man who couldn’t earn the right to wear it even if he died trying. Read the full story HERE>>


Highway to Heaven in the Foothills

Tom Sheehan

Steve Bancroft wore his sheriff’s badge, with a deep sense of pride, against his chest, always feeling the weight of its demands working on his mind, body and soul. As a result, he and his horse made a difference in their small Texas world; the hills, and the mountains, farther out, enfolded with a now-and-then serenity, or else a heavy composition of greed, including death by varied causes, varied degrees.

He wanted to believe he could get the area closer to the likes of heaven or a heavenly dream. And be damned the usual struggles to make his area a worthier part of Texas.  Read the full story HERE>>


The Kid Witness

Tom Sheehan

High in the saddle, stretching his gaze out on the wide grass, rancher Bill Curtis spotted a rider sitting a horse with one of its forelegs hoisted as if in pain. There was no movement to man or horse other than the occasional foreleg in its long-range message. 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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