000 02083nam a22002657a 4500
001 216219891
003 UA-OsUOA
005 20201217185252.0
008 201217b -us||||g |||| 00| f eng d
020 _a0385187130
040 _aUA-OsUOA
_bukr
_cUA-OsUOA
_dUA-OsUOA
041 _aeng
080 _a82-31
090 _bE81
_a82-31
100 _aEstleman L. D.
245 _aMister St. John
_cLoren D. Estleman
250 _aFirst edition
260 _aGarden City
_aNew York
_bDoubleday & Company, Inc.
_c1983
300 _a182 p.
520 _aIrons St. John, unsuccessful candidate in Missouri for the House of Representatives, unsuccessful real estate manipuulator, unsuccessful businessman, unsuccessful husband, just couldn’t turn down Pinkerton’s handsome offer. Besides, outlaw hunting was the only thing he was ever successful at... True, St. John was getting on in years. And it was 1906, twenty years down a long and winding road from those great old days when St. John’s exploits made him a legend. True, his posse — which included a rusty Indian tracker, a half-blind sharpshooter, two Villista bandits nobody would turp his back on, and a Sunday school preacher wanted for murder — was a mite unusual. It was also true that the Buckner gang, terrorizing banks and trains, throughout Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado, was as tough and elusive a prey as Mister St. John had ever stalked — even when he was the hot young deputy for Hanging Judge Parker. But Pinkerton's and the Union Pacific Railroad were offering $15,000 and wages. Irons St. John and his men — and the bank-robbing Buckners, for that matter - didn’t know their day was past. No one told them that the Wild West was dead. So they went right on riding, tracking, fighting, and shooting, creating a commotion no one would forget for a long time — and a legend that would keep the Wild West alive a little longer...
650 _a82-31 Романи. Повісті
_2UDC
942 _2udc
_cBK
955 _a3
999 _c278814
_d278814