Full Disclosure: I apologize in advance for putting this disclosure in your face. The new FTC regulations require it. Since 2006, the Rope and Wire website has been promoting western authors. This site also promotes the books written by these authors. The books are linked to the appropriate Amazon page. If you click on the link, As an Amazon Associate I'll earn a small commission from qualifying purchases.This does NOT add to the cost of your purchase. It DOES help to keep this site up and running.
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 Orphans, Indiana Voices Journal, Frontier Tales, Western Online, Faith-Hope and Fiction, Eastlit, Rope & 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 Cowboys, Beside the Broken Trail, In 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.
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.
Bill Dudley Do-Good, Dew-Guide Sheriff of Taxico
West Texas was going bone dry, and the first to show it were the beeves and the horses, their inert bones in short order picked clean of every edible bite by eagles and sundry hard-eating and hard-hunting birds, often as big as the dead they picked on, them throwing even bigger and darker shadows over the land. Read the full story HERE>>
In the Shadow of the Hill
“Juice Jorgen” as he already had come to be called by the barkeep and saloon owner, Jugs Johnson, arrived dead-drunk in early morning, the sun rising over the near hilltop toward a day of heat, and other myriad surprises that often wake up little towns, or keeps them awake long after darkness makes its entry into the township of Killacut, near the current border between Texas and Mexico. Read the full story HERE>>
The Election, by Decree
In the Bronco Buster Saloon, owner, sweeper, pourer Jackson “Jade” Henrick realized he knew the name of every customer at the bar or sitting at one of the tables. Most of them he liked, could side with them on points of view, laugh at the same jokes, go into battle also with most of them, sure heroes in the mix.
One of his customers did not fit that mold;... Read the full story HERE>>
The Lost Rider of the Pecos Run
Western buffs, historians, story tellers, etc., continue to this day to promote the unfinished story, and highly mysterious surroundings, of the Lost Pony Express rider to leave Pecos, Texas on his last ride of the day, and of his life, if disappearance is allowed to enter the argument. Read the full story HERE>>
The Lone Retreat
Enoch “Nick” Branden heard the thump of a bullet hit the tree beside him before he heard the gunshot echo from across the valley floor. He had decided he’d stay inside his small cabin a day or two, away from the rest of the world, before he went hunting for the sniper. The cabin, built by him in three months of hard labor, could take on a fusillade of gunfire if need be, especially long-range. Read the full story HERE>>
Micah Thorsen and Mud Harris
On the peak of a grassy brow, his body stiffened as he waited a shot. It didn’t come, didn’t tear the night apart, or him. “We’ll never know, Torby,” he said, the silence measuring miles as well as, catastrophes, luck also figuring its way into realization. It summed up the argument for him that Mud Harris would do anything to stay alive; Mud Harris on the loose was a terror to any other living thing. Read the full story HERE>>
The Buffalo Soldiers
First Lieutenant Paul Avery, West Point, 1872, then in 1875 part of the 10th Cavalry Regiment, regularly stationed at Fort Carson in Colorado, heard several men talking outside his tent... Read the full story HERE>>
West of East Texas
It happened in the dust of a small Texas town called Impetus Two, which happened to hang around long enough to gather fame as the Dueling Capital of the West for those folks come from the East. So far in this yarn of ours, eleven gents of various levels of drawing to the death had drawn and lost, and eleven, of course, went on their infamous ways, which included two of them who came back for another turn and didn’t make it past the second draw, but drew a nice shady spot on the side of the hilly burial grounds, but not quite to the top of the hill. Read the full story HERE>>
The Midnight Rider
When another fight broke out between his mother and father, Jasper Mintor, even then a mere 11 years old, his father threw him, bodily and without a second thought, clean out of the house in Logger’s Rest, Iowa, along with the order: “Don’t you ever come back here, kiddo, or I’ll beat you until your mother cries for you for a whole week.” Read the full story HERE>>
Every month, on Day One like it was Bible, new wanted posters were yanked off the wall of the sheriff’s office and the adjoining jail. Where they ended up, nobody knew, but they were not torn to shreds and thrown to the wind, nor ended up in a trash barrel.
As far as anybody knew. Including the sheriff himself. Read the full story HERE>>
One Gun, Two Targets
The boy, squeezed between two huge rocks above the cabin, earlier ordered by his father anytime trouble loomed in the vicinity, to hide until he was called out. He had heard loud words, the argument, the voices of two men spilling bitterness, two gun shots, but never heard his father call him back since the moment two men had ridden up from the lower valley outside the town of Burkesville, Colorado. Nor did he hear his mother say a word. Read the full story HERE>>
A Friend in the Night
Stan Burton needed help; somebody, person or persons unknown, was scratching at his ownings in an incessant manner, bit by bit, piece by piece, by theft, by damage, by unhinging pieces belonging together, or knotting unlike elements for sure to start deterioration. Read the full story HERE>>
The Coachman, The Marshal
Darwin “Darby” Colbert, Marshall Premier of west Texas counties, was damned sick and tired of the hits on regular coach runs and federal carriers as well. A pair of bandits, military in nature by hook and look, had presented themselves in concert with most military conduct; they said “Sir” when addressing male riders and coach drivers, and any and all ladies as “Ma’am,” on each and every hold-up. Read the full story HERE>>
The High Cabin
Duke Dunfrey came to the highest point on the hill, after a full day’s ride, always headed west, and was flabbergasted at the view leaping at him, the evening sun slipping down between one cliff face and a hill stacked with green trees, every color and shape blending into the place for which he had been searching for more than a year. Read the full story HERE>>
Turf Malloy’s Squeaky Dreams
Thurman “Turf” Malloy, dreamer, supposed cowman. comfortable in the saddle all the live-long day, looked across the Texas plains, his eyes stretching beyond what he saw, not noting the herd of cattle spread across his view. Read the full story HERE>>