There lay the caravan, a crumbled, blackened ruin. The story was told even by the smoldering remnants of the wagons. There had not been time to curl the train into a perfect circle. The danger struck too quickly after the first warning. While the rear wagons were hurrying up and while the front wagons were slowly turning back to make the circle, the charge struck home. Through the gap the screaming riders must have poured. After that there was no chance to make an organized defense. Ten men in good positions may keep off a thousand Indians for a time, at the least. But when it comes to scattering fight, man to man, it takes a rare good white man to beat an Indian when the latter is attacking with his first rush. At any rate, not a soul remained alive, and most of them had been burned beyond recognition. First the Indians had looted the wagons of all that was useful to them. Then they had thrown the bodies of the whites into the wagons and set them all on fire, trusting to the fire itself to wipe out the traces of their crime. But we, wandering slowly through that dreadful place, were able to identify a few of the bodies, and from every one the scalp had been ripped away. There were fifty-three dead men. Not a soul had escaped except the two of us.

This story, the first of four stories in the Paul Torridon saga, appeared as “Coward of the Clan” in Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine in the issue dated May 19, 1928. It was published under Faust’s George Henry Morland byline. It tells the story of how Paul Torridon came to spend twelve years of his young life with the Brett family, mortal enemies of the Torridons.

Faced with the possibility of hanging for his crimes, outlaw Pete Reeve appeals to comrade and retired gunman Bull Hunter for help, unaware that Hunter risks losing the woman he loves if he assists his friend

His name was Jim Silver, but they called him Silvertip. Jim Silver, the man with tufts of silver hair over each temple, the man who sometimes looked like a horned devil in the moonlight, hungered for action as most men hunger for food. And he found plenty when bank robber Jim Lovell sought his protection – because, unknown to Silvertip, Lovell was packing a half-million dollars in stolen cash along with his Winchester. And the men he'd double-crossed had shot their way out of jail and were riding hard on the trail of their desperate partner, ready for the bloodiest shootout the West had ever seen! Experience the West as only Max Brand could write it!

Sooner or later, a gent who’s dying for war — meets a hombre who’s killing for peace!