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Cover of Buchanan 10: Buchanan's Texas Treasure

Buchanan 10: Buchanan's Texas Treasure

✍ Scribed by Jonas Ward; William Ard


Book ID
111231417
Publisher
Piccadilly Publishing
Year
2019
Tongue
English
Weight
236 KB
Series
Buchanan #18
Category
Fiction
ASIN
B07TY7C4CM

No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.

✦ Synopsis


A fortune in gold bullion, silver plate, and jewels beyond price ... This was the fabled Cuesta treasure. Men had died for it a century before. Then it had disappeared--hidden somewhere near the Cuesta ranch in Texas. Now, men were beginning to hunt this treasure again. And more would die.

William Robert Cox (1901-1988) was a writer for more than sixty years, and published more than seventy-five novels and perhaps one thousand short stories, as well as more than 150 TV shows and several movies on film. He was well into his career, flooding the market with sports, crime, and adventure stories, when he turned to the western novel. He served twice as president of the Western Writers of America, and was writing his fifth Cemetery Jones novel, Cemetery Jones and the Tombstone War, when he passed away. He wrote under at least six pen names, including Willard d’Arcy, Mike Frederic, John Parkhill, Joel Reeve, Roger G. Spellman and, of course, Jonas Ward. Under the Ward byline, he wrote sixteen adventures in the Buchanan series, all of which will be published in ebook by Piccadilly Publishing. **


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"There's a little town thirty miles from here called Scottsville," Major Jones told him. "Your first job as a Texas Ranger will be to stop a war there." Even before Major Jones finished giving him his orders, Buchanan knew he would find Scottsville to be hostile territory. Two cattle barons, who ha

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The killers had taken over the town, lock, stock, and barrel--and they weren't going to leave until there was nothing left to loot. They had the bank and the saloon and the sheriff's office and the poker game. And you had to like it or you ended up dead. But Buchanan didn't like it.

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They said in Texas that Tom Buchanan ate wildcat for breakfast and that he was slow to anger--like a rattler dozing in the desert sun. But now every saloon and dance hall had heard the news: Buchanan was cleaning his guns. The genial giant of a man had sworn to kill the outlaws who had shot his be

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It was hot enough to burn rawhide, and lizards were frying on flat rocks. It was, Buchanan decided, just about two degrees fiercer than hell, and if he could keep going for another half an hour he'd allow himself a drink from his canteen. He was in a mood for comfort, so naturally he got trouble.

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He was a tall son--taller than most men by a head, with a look of wildness in his battered, tough face. He was Tom Buchanan out of West Texas, who fought with joy and loved with gusto--who many times had gone to meet death without pause and with great good nature. This time he took on the whole