Undertaker Series by George G. Gilman (1-3)
Requirements: ePUB Reader | Retail, Size: 657 KB
Overview: George G. Gilman — a pseudonym created and used by the near-legendary Terry Harknett — is so well-known to western readers that he hardly needs any introduction. Arguably the most influential British western writer of the last 40 years, his tough, graphic, wise-cracking westerns are still in demand, even though almost twenty years have now passed since the last one was published.
Genre: Fiction – General Fiction
1. Black as Death (1981)
‘I ain’t never come across two colder, one-track-minded men in all my life. And if I had to choose between the two of them, I’d have to say Barnaby Gold has the makin’s of bein’ the coldest.’
The storekeeper who had spat before, did it again. And brought the group discussion to an end when he growled: ‘As cold as all them graves he’s dug.’
2. Destined to Die (1981)
Mr Gershel, dirtied up and unshaven after early hours working his fields, he looked out of place on the swept stoop in the recently white-painted doorframe flanked by shiningly clean windows.
‘Mornin’ to you, stranger,’ he growled, unsmiling. ‘Joanne, what you doin’ ridin’ with a stranger?’
His Tennessee dialect was more pronounced than that of the girl. As he spoke, somebody else moved in the shadowed interior of the house behind him.
‘Name’s Baraaby Gold, Mr Gershel. Bring you some bad news.’
He hitched the reins around the brake lever and started to swing down from the wagon. Aware of the suspicion in Gershel’s hard-set face and of the stone-like posture of Joanne who seemed petrified to the seat. Was still in the process of getting off the wagon when the girl sprang to her feet, pointed at Gold and shrieked: ‘He killed them and raped me!’
3. Funeral by the Sea (1981)
Oceanville, California nestled by the wide blue waters of the Pacific but it was no vacation resort. More like a retirement home. Leastways, strangers who stumbled on it never came out again alive and mostly never had time to say hi to the folks before they were dead. Unless they were kept around just long enough to pleasure Miss Eve. It was her brother who ran the vicious bunch of hoodlums and Mexican whores who made up the citizenry. So it looked like the end of the road for Barnaby Gold when he came into town, just aiming to buy a horse. But, sure as hell, he didn’t reckon on paying with his life.
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