Billy the Kid was neither the most romantic of western desperadoes nor a vicious killer. He was, for his time, a reasonably well-educated young cowboy who went to work for legitimate rancher/businessmen who were in conflict with agents and friends of a local and state government that were so incredibly corrupt that even Governor Lew Wallace couldn't save him. He wound up being 'outlawized' by an equally corrupt and sensationalistic press. Ironically, he was the only participant in the Lincoln County War who was sentenced (railroaded) to hang. Ever since the Kid was ambushed by Pat Garrett in 1881, historians, storytellers, and filmmakers have depended primarily on Pat Garrett's self-serving 'Authentic Life of Billy the Kid'. Jon Tuska, basing his work on documentary evidence, separates what is known of the facts from the fiction about Billy to produce the most accurate account of Billy and the Lincoln County War. He then turns to the standard legendary elements and shows wherein they differ from known facts. Tuska goes on to critique the standard histories, novels, and films that feature Billy. I consider this book to be the standard against which all other Billy the Kid materials are to be measured.

Ever since I moved within an hour and a half of Lincoln County, New Mexico, where that famous jail that imprisoned Billy the Kid before his escape is now a tourist attraction, I've been enveloped by stories of this legendary killer and romantic guy. Jon Tuska adds more research and investigation in this new book. For Billy the Kid enthusiasts who really want to know more about the legend, the book is probably the most important one I've read. Tuska explores the man's life and death, historical views and fiction based on his life. One of my favorite parts is his description of how he escaped detection by the law once when he went to a friend's house and woke them from their bed. He got in bed with them, and they covered him up with covers, then got back in bed as if they were alone. When the law questioned them, it appeared they were alone! Talk about a threesome!

But the best aspect of the book for historians and perhaps for Tuska's future books on Billy the Kid is his determination that to get the true story of what happened during the Lincoln County War, researchers need to focus more on the actions of Alexander A. McSween and Susan Hammer McSween and answering questions like, what happened to the Fritz inheritance money? What happened to John H. Turnstall's numerous high investments? Tuska's work suggests Susan McSween's financial success might have come from extortion from the Fritz and Turnstall estate.

Tuska's theories ring true, and make the reader want more. From his suggestions, the reader almost anticipates another book from Tuska exploring these issues. Readers should follow Tuska's career and future writings about Billy the Kidd.

Sometimes, you really can tell a book by its cover. My hardcover edition is colored in red and desert gold blends and has got a picture on it of a tough-looking hombre, with a star pinned to his vest, firing a pistol with his left-hand and leaning against his horse's saddle and writing a note with his right hand ("rustlers cornered Red Gulch HELP sheriff").

There isn't any story in this volume that corresponds with this picture, but who cares? It captures the flavor of the text well enough.

Jon Tuska's collection of traditional Western action stories is immensely readable and made especially interesting by his running commentary. For the most part, these stories were written early in the 20th century as dime novels or as articles contributed to Western periodicals during the Golden Era of this type of story.

While all of the tales have the satisfying "feel" that a good Western action story should bring, it's remarkable to observe that the "West" is more a state of mind than a geographic point of reference or a specific lifestyle. The stories are set as far east as Arkansas (which I would have thought of as a "Southern" state, as opposed to a "Western" one) and as far north as Montana.

The characters from whose vantage point the stories are told include the usual assortment of cowpunchers, sheriffs, ranch detectives, pioneers, and gunfighters, but they also include a construction engineer and a banker. And although the era of the "Old West" is believed to have ranged from sometime in the middle of the 19th century to the beginning of the 20th, there is actually one story in this volume in which our hero rides, not a Shetland pony, but one of Henry Ford's battered mountain cars (the villain of the piece, by contrast, is a rich kid in a blue roadster).

The one common thread that seems to weave relentlessly through all of these stories is the omniscient presence of the "Code" of the West. The "Code" is more easily transmitted to the reader through these stories than summarized by any third person, but roughly speaking, it's a series of directives which mandate that promises be kept, that alliances be honored, that grudges be avenged, that individuals communicate plainly (because the difference between friend and foe might depend on the manner in which the other's words or gestures are taken), that obligations be paid, that rights be boldly asserted or forever lost to those who are bolder, that justice be done, that law be taken into one's own hands when necessary to do justice, that crises of the environment or of the spirit be faced head-on, and that (unless otherwise asked) one not pry into the business of another.

On occasion, there is confusion over exactly what course of action the "Code" requires, such as in the first story of the volume where the protagonist must choose between warning a benefactor about a threat to his life and honoring the mandate that one mind his own business. But most of the time, the "right thing to do" is fairly clear to the reader.

The trouble is that the stories themselves, as entertaining as they are as oat operas, don't quite live up to the billing that the editor gives them as literary devices.

"There is no other kind of American literary endeavor that has so repeatedly posed the eternal questions - how do I wish to live?, in what do I believe?, what do I want from life?, what have I to give to life? - as has the Western story," Tuska declares.

But the fact is that the writers of these stories don't really pose these as "questions". There's no doubt that the pioneer families in these stories are going to fulfill their manifest destiny by pressing westward and disregarding all excuses to return home. There's no doubt that Jim Laramie is going to overcome his fears and repay the hospitality of the family that has befriended him by facing down the badmen who earlier chased him out of Dodge. There's no doubt that Sheriff Milo Singer's protestations of stupidity and lack of ambition on his own part are facades designed to obscure his relentless pursuit of justice in his territory. The characters in these stories really don't agonize over these issues long enough to be compared with characters in a Greek drama, as Tuska seeks to do.

Almost uniformly morose, taciturn, and persistent and reminiscent of heroes from a similar genre, the hard-boiled detective story, the heroes of the stories in this volume always ultimately follow the Code of the West, not because intense soul-searching enables them to decide that "this" is how they want to live, but simply because "this" is a role that their respective authors have designated them to fulfill in order to bring the action to a head.

These should be primarily regarded as action stories, not allegories, and the heroes within them, for all their courage and tenacity, are as flat as the Arizona desert and more aptly compared to Horatio than to Hamlet.

But as action stories, they work very well, and Tuska is to be commended for his choice of stories; for the loving care that he took to choose them and assemble them for this collection; for the biographical information submitted for each author; and for the memorable introduction to this genre that he provides in his forward.

If you are a fan of western short stories, you will want this book. It contains a solid selection of previously uncollected stories, unfortunately marred by the usually reliable Jon Tuska's pretentious introduction . Skip the intro and go directly to the Les Savage, Jr. story and you won't be disappointed.

Short novels by Robert J. Horton, his protege Walt Coburn, and Cherry Wilson. These writers deserve to be better known and these three gems are good evidence. The emphasis is on character development, not just on action. The setting of the west is sparse and simple, as compared with the complexity of a modern city. For me, this sparseness wonderfully mirrors the isolation of the modern city dweller. Jon Tuska is a good guide to what deserves attention --- and why --- in the vast library of western literature.