Civil War Lunacy

"Waving to the gray-bearded old Reb, he thought again about the lunacy of war. Especially a civil war. American against American. Eleven years ago the two of them might have been trying their best to kill or cripple each other. And over what? Was stopping the South from having their own country really worth all the killing and destruction? General Logan and lots of others had thought so, and he'd thought so too as a kid; but that was before he saw the results first hand."    (Amargosa Ambush)

Whores and Angels

"Hell yeah," answered the Irishman. "We're all set to retire and open a whore-house in the City of Angels."
Cal smiled. "Good idea. We could always use another whorehouse down there."
"Actually, old boy," said the Englishman, tapping off the ash from his thin cigar, "it's to be a rather exclusive bordello-- no hoi polio allowed."
(Amargosa Ambush)

Whiskey and Romance

     "Cal poured about half a shot into her cup, then reached across and took her left hand in his, her gold wedding band pressing against his palm.
     I'm not passing her up, he told himself. I didn't make any marriage vows. And what the hell; I could get shot tomorrow. He remembered other times he had felt the same way during the war."     (Tejon Trail)

Progress Rides the Rails

"To the east he could see a locomotive chugging across the valley, hauling supplies, dark wood smoke boiling up out the its big smoke stack. The faint sound of its whistle came floating across what had once been the Mission's grazing lands. He patted the sorrel's neck. "The clarion call of Progress, Red," he said softly. Then he rode down towards Lopez Stage Station and the old ruined mission beyond it."    (Tejon Trail)

Angelina by Twilight

"He sat enjoying the twilight view across the orchard, and in about fifteen minutes Angelina came walking slowly up the path carrying a platter with four large burritos stacked on it. Her white dress looked like a cheap flour-sack, but on her slender shapely figure it looked good. She smiled her shy-flirtatious sixteen year old smile, handed him the platter, and, as usual, walked silently back down the path. He watched her, thinking There goes a pretty little senorita who is either going to be a blessing to her parents, or a curse."     (TEJON TRAIL)

Low-life Along the Porciuncula

"East of Calabasas were some other enterprising types, whose small adobes and shacks were sprouting along the River. Many were Texas low-life who hunted deer and other game, and made a kind of living by raising and selling chickens and turkeys, with the women doing most of the work They were even meaner than the Southern roughnecks over in El Monte, and their neighborhood was best avoided. Shooting a man in the back from ambush didn't bother them at all."  (from Tejon Trail)