Résultats lu par "Barry Press" dans Toutes les catégories

The thrilling story of men and women caught up in the death throes of Nazi Germany, struggling to maintain those things precious to them - life, an end to killing, and even sanity itself. Colonel Johann Faust has lost everyone he ever loved and feels he is going inexorably insane. He hears the haunting voice of his dead fiancée and the demons that roar through his mind as he perfects a plan to save Nazi Germany from defeat and insure a greater and deadlier new world war.

When a legendary old gunslinger finally meets his Maker in some godforsaken West Texas town, Stringer heads to the scene for what he thinks is a routine story. But when he gets to Comanche Woe, it turns out he's landed in the middle of a dust storm of trouble. It's open season on wanted men. A wily varmint called Buckskin Jack Blair has crowned himself Marshal. And murderous vigilantes and bounty hunters are crawling out of the woodwork. When the bullets start flying, Stringer can't tell the outlaws from the lawmen…

When freight trains conquered the West, the big, dusty drives of beef on the hoof became just a colorful piece of cowboy nostalgia. So when a cattle baron called C. J. Tarington aims to punch a thousand-plus head through the unforgiving heat and sage of the Great Basin, some say he's a mite simple, or crazy, or both. Stringer thinks it's something else. And sure enough, a pack of bloodthirsty varmints is robbing trains all along the cattle trail.

Only Pancho Villa, king of bandits, is gutsy enough to make war on Terrazas the tyrant. And only Villa would sell tickets to one of his massacres. A curious mob settles along the Rio Grande, waiting for a bloodbath. They don't know that they've wasted their two bits on a phony war. Only one man is wise to Villa's crafty fake - Stringer MacKail. The adventurer-turned-newsman saddles a fast horse and tracks the real war to Mexico's sun-parched badlands. The desert erupts in a hellish inferno of torture and death as Villa's fearless gang shoots it out with Terraza's battle-scarred army.

Even a newspaperman with Stringer MacKail's brand of courage knows you can't cover a stalemated miners' strike without getting on somebody's fightin' side. But that won't stop Stringer from trying to get some ink on the gold miners' sit-down out in Cripple Creek. Unfortunately, the only word he's heard so far is vamoose. Seems the Mine Owners' Association doesn't take kindly to pesky reporters, and would like to put Stringer out of commission-for keeps. That is, if Big Bill Heywood and his Federation of Miners don't do it first....

Dead men don't tell tales. Neither do dead women or children. And when their corpses have been dryin' out in the desert sun for fifty years, there's nary a whisper left of what happened. So when the six Mojave mummies are found near Esperanza, it's up to Stringer to get the story. But someone in Esperanza wants him to just plain git.... First there's that invite to butt out, signed with a skull. Then the town welcome wagon wants to give him a buckshot bouquet.

Usually it takes Stringer a little while to rile folks in a new town. But no sooner does he step off the train in Tulsa, than some sidewinder is doing his best to turn Stringer into yesterday's news. The hot story in Tulsa is the oil boom. It seems you can't dig a grave without hitting black gold. And Stringer's there to write the story. But MacKail's never seen such a sorry assortment of low-down, hornswoggling bushwhackers. Because, as Stringer well knows, where there's money, there's outlaws and lawyers....

When miners dig up the Yana Indians' sacred burial ground, the tribe goes on the warpath. And after a couple of deputy sheriffs are found with so many arrows sticking out of them they look like porcupines, the miners grab their guns and axes. Even a little Indian war is big news in the fading days of the Wild West, so Stringer rides out to investigate. But something just ain't right. For one thing, the arrows that killed the deputies are not Yana arrows. And the varmints who dug up the Indian graves aren't miners.

When Charles S. Stratton was born in 1838, he seemed perfect in every way. But then he stopped growing. At age four, though a happy and mischievous child, he was just over two feet tall and weighed 15 pounds - the exact size he had been as a seven-month-old baby. It was then that P. T. Barnum persuaded Charley’s family to allow him to exhibit their son in his museum and tour him around the world as a curiosity. Tom Thumb, as Barnum dubbed him, was a natural performer.

With the Confederate Army firing on Fort Sumter, the Civil War has begun - and an invasion of Washington, DC, from Secessionist Virginia seems imminent. As the population evacuates, the president is in desperate need of men to defend the capital. Lincoln's trusted aide, Adam Speed Quinn, and Senator Jim Lane hastily assemble a motley crew and garrison them in the East Room at the White House. As dawn breaks with no Rebel strike, a single act of violence intrudes within the White House. One of the Frontier Guard lies dead in the oval library, throat slit ear to ear. There is a murderer among them.