Trails End

Take one man with an iron sense of justice. Put him in a lonesome canyon with a desperate killer. That's our story. Trails End. Taken from the files of John Steele. Adventurer! Hello friends. This is John Steele. If you like stories of suspense and action, you've come to the right place. Because our specialty is curling hair and wearing out the edges of seats.

This week's tale takes us out to the empty prairies of the far west, where a good friend of mine lived a very absorbing story. I first met George Brennan when I was managing the White Swan Cafe out in Silverton, but here he is to tell you about it himself.

George? I guess being sure it's about the most thankless job man could ask for. Don't make no difference how good you are at it. Seems there's always someone talking behind your back or taking offense at something you don't.

He stats the way it was in my county. I'd been sheriff at Dawson County for 15 years. Good one too. I always believed there was a right and a wrong to everything, and all you had to do was recognize them as was good and them as was bad.

That's the way I ran things. Seems strange though that for all my years as sheriff, there wasn't a man in the county I could call a friend. You take that night a while back, I dropped him to the white swan just to check up for calling it a day.

Oh, hello George. Everything quiet? Yeah, all under control. I just thought I know. Yeah. Well, this is where most of trouble starts in the town, you know? Oh, I wouldn't go that far. Take my word, Horrid. I know.