Louis Trimble

The Desperate Deputy Of
Cougar Hill

Cameron was his name. He looked like a lawman, he wore a tin badge, but the owl-hooters knew him as a bank robber who had turned traitor. And they set a trap to catch him with a bank loaded with gold dust, a rangeland studded with blotched brands, and a scheme worthy of the wildcats that gave Cougar Hill its name. But Cameron had some cougar blood in his own veins, and desperation put a deadly edge to his trigger fangs.

Lewis B. Patten 
Fighting Rawhide

Old John Sunblade had ruined many men to build his vast rangeland empire. I hated him. He was a man without mercy and love. And he had tried to destroy me as he had the others. Now he was helpless and his enemies were closing in like a pack of ravening wolves. I hated him, but I had to try to save him. I was his son.

Someone had crippled Pace Larrabee in an ambush, killed one of his men, and rustled a herd of horses . . . someone had stampeded his cattle and threatened to poison his water holes. Pace had carved a thriving ranch in the wild, untamed wilderness of Oregon. He'd been helped by Arliss, the woman who staked him to a strange, passionless partnership, but he had to be wary of Gilgen, the man with a dark past and a strange hold over Arliss. And he had other enemies. Was his foe among the nesters who poached on the land back in the hills? Even their fiery women had their reasons for hating him. One from among the enemy legion was about to step forth, one with a deadly aim -to kill Pace Larrabeel