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Zusatztext "Knott ups his game with every entry he contributes to the Cole-Hitch series. The dialogue is sharper! the plotting more complex! and Knott is mastering Parker’s spare style. Very entertaining reading for western fans."— Booklist Informationen zum Autor Robert B. Parker was the author of seventy books, including the legendary Spenser detective series, the novels featuring Police Chief Jesse Stone, and the acclaimed Virgil Cole-Everett Hitch westerns, as well as the Sunny Randall novels. Winner of the Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Award and long considered the undisputed dean of American crime fiction, he died in January 2010. Robert Knott is an actor, writer, and producer, as well as the author of Robert B. Parker's Blackjack , R obert B. Parker's The Bridge , Robert B. Parker's Bullriver , and Robert B. Parker's Ironhorse . His extensive list of stage, television, and film credits include the feature film Appaloosa based on the Robert B. Parker novel, which he adapted and produced with actor and producer Ed Harris. Klappentext Lawmen Virgil Cole and Everett Hitch must prevent all-out war between rival factions in the latest adventure in the New York Times -bestselling series. When gold is discovered in the foothills just outside of Appaloosa, it sets off a fight between two shrewd local business operations as their hired gun hands square off over the claim. First a young miner disappears, then another. And then one of the businessmen himself is killed, right on his front doorstep. Meanwhile, as Cole and Hitch try to put a stop to the escalating violence, another killer is making his way toward town in pursuit of a long-lost dream, and a mission of vengeance. Cole and Hitch will have their work cut out for them to keep the peace, especially when all these ruffians converge at the huge Appaloosa Days festival, where hundreds of innocent souls might get caught in the crossfire . . . 1 An all-day celebration had been taking place. The sounds of music, dancing, people talking and laughing echoed inside the jailhouse. The blue-eyed kid with a busted lip and bruised face sat on his cell bunk sharpening a spoon handle to a point. He wore a huge sombrero and a short-waisted Mexican jacket. He favored the Mexican culture over the American way of living, but he was no Mexican. Ever since he was on his own, he'd spent most of his time drifting from town to town along the border. He preferred the Mexican people. Especially the se–oritas, and the se–oritas took a liking to him as well. He was fond of the Mexicans' food and Mexicans' drinks, too-mescal was his favorite. And he spoke the Spanish language well, or well enough to get what he wanted. When he was in one place long enough and feeling generous, he would wire or write a letter to the old man. The old man was the only person the kid had any tether to on the earth. The kid was never sure how he ended up with the old man, who the old man even was, or where he came from. The kid had a vague memory of moving from one family to another as a child. Until one day, when the kid could put on his own breeches, an old man came and took him away. The old man took him to the mountains and put him to work. The whistling sound of fireworks interrupted the waltz that played in the plaza. The kid sprang up and stood atop his bunk. He could see through the bars of the cell window the tail end of the skyward firework, then it exploded and brightened the night sky. "Hot damn," he said. "Hot damn." Another one launched and exploded. "Damn. I was sure looking forward to this here celebration. I sure was." "I told you to shut up before I come in there and shut you up for good," the jailer said. "Shut your mouth." The kid laughed. "...
