Dusty Richards is a heck of a nice guy. I’ve met him at a few writers’ conferences and have several of his books, but hadn’t found time to read one. Then I found myself at another convention and I’d forgotten the book I was reading, so I visited Walmart and picked up this one despite it’s horrible cover with a hipster cowboy holding a gun like he’s one of Charlie’s Angels.
I’ve got to say I was less than impressed with this novel. The characters were too cardboard, especially the villain, Lamas. Sam T. had potential, but just lacked dimension once he left Denver. Jesus was supposed to be an alcoholic, but he quit drinking as easily as most people change pants and never once backslid, so what was the point of making him a drunk? Justine flickered between being a damsel in distress and a whore and I’m still not sure which she was supposed to be. The Apache Too-Gut and his wife were the most interesting people, and the ones we learned the least about.
This edition is a reprint of one of Dusty’s earlier books, so I don’t feel burned. I’ll be reading some of his newer stuff soon, I think. Final analysis, it’s like one of those B Westerns you used to catch on Saturday afternoon TV, as opposed to the big-budget flicks with A-list stars. Not bad, but not really memorable.