Four years ago, his father had handed him a box containing both guns, completely disassembled, and told him he could have them, when and if he could put them back together. It took him a week, but he did it. He didn’t do it to please his father, whom he hated, nor his mother, whom he loved. He did it to prove to himself that he could, and as a result of hours of practice at the back of the property, he rarely missed with either gun, and he could draw and fire the pistol in a split second.

    The wind from behind had kept the dust moving forward at a pace just equal to the gallop of his horse. Not until he had brought his mount to a halt in front of the hotel and swung down to the ground did either he or his horse become distinctly visible. Then it was seen that the animal was in the last stages of exhaustion, with dull eyes and hanging head and forelegs braced widely apart, while the sweat dripped steadily from his flanks into the white dust on the street. Plainly he had been pushed to the last limit of his strength. The rider was almost as far spent as his mount, for he went up the steps of the hotel with his shoulders sagging with weariness, a wide-shouldered, gaunt-ribbed man. Thick layers of dust had turned his red kerchief and his blue shirt to a common gray. Dust, too, made a mask of his face, and through that mask the eyes peered out, surrounded by pink skin. Even at its best the long, solemn face could never have been called handsome. But, on this particular day, he seemed a haunted man, or one fleeing from an inescapable danger. . . .

    When young Richard Gale arrives in the Arizona border town of Casita, he finds himself surrounded by Mexican and American troops, bandits and renegades—and makes an enemy of Rojas, a vicious Mexican bandit leader.

    Some of those lives were changed forever, some were ruined beyond redemption, and yet others were merely snuffed out. Hickory Jack is a tale of two young lives which were changed beyond any hope of ever being the same. Andy Moore age fourteen and Ben Blue age twelve came face to face with violence and evil as boys, and they responded as men. As they grew in size and years, they also grew in the knowledge of what it took to be a man and to walk in a man’s boots. They gained the knowledge that life was hard, and fairness had never been a promise. They also learned that some men do things for no other reason than they can, and they respected no law higher than what rested in their holsters.