Slocum partners up with a female sleuth—and they're hot on the case...When John Slocum rides into the mining town of Leadville a little down on his luck, he doesn't expect to get swindled out of his last gold piece. And when he finds the man responsible for the counterfeit money and doles out his own form of justice, Slocum winds up in the local jail. Lucky for him, there's a spunky lady detective looking for the source of the counterfeit coins—and she thinks Slocum is the perfect gunslinger to help her solve the mystery...

Slocum sticks his neck out for a woman wronged. When Slocum meets lovely young Perla, he learns that the New Mexican woman's haughty manner masks fear. The Booster Brothers—rustlers who raped and robbed her, killed women and children, and murdered her husband—are leaving a trail of blood along the Rio Grande. After Slocum agrees to escort Perla to her ranch, he takes another job —as avenging angel. But before he brings the gang to justice, Slocum finds you ride one hell of a road to carry out good intentions.

Slocum gives a rollicking rich girl the ride of her life!Slocum's at the end of his tether when a stranger offers him a hot meal, a job escorting precious cargo to Salt Lake City, and a thousand dollar advance. It may be too good to be true, but it's also too good to turn down—especially when he gets a look at the cargo... In his care is a mysterious chest, the key to which rests on another chest—that of Augusta Barr, a stunning heiress with more than a little mystery of her own. Pursued by a deadly pair of redheaded roughnecks, Slocum finds himself caught in a deadly mix of beauty, bounty, and bullets.

Slocum squares off with a low-down lawman!Her name is Bob—short for Roberta—and when her brother gets framed for stealing horses, it's up to her to be the man of the ranch. But when a no-good deputy wants control of the land, he hurts her bad. That's when a drifter named Slocum arrives on the scene. Now Slocum's teaching the lawman a lesson in justice—and showing Roberta how it feels to be treated like a woman...

Slocum’s shot a lot of men—but never in the back…Max Furling has a piece of paper that says he owns the Reilly spread—lock, stock, and barrel. And since Reilly is dead, Max’s claim is foolproof—almost. He’s started a rumor that Reilly was shot in the back by Slocum. And being called a lowdown cowardly killer isn’t something Slocum takes kindly to.   He’s ready to make Max Furling wish he’d bitten clear through his tongue before slandering Slocum. But first he’s getting some help from a comely new friend: a lady with a warm spot for him in her heart—and her bed…

Slocum's reputation is about to get soiled...John Slocum never minded visiting houses of ill fame—until he loses a pat hand in a poker game and finds himself paying by playing bouncer at the local brothel. A big rodeo's coming to town, and the place needs a hard man to take care of trouble. And when a lady under his protection ends up dead, Slocum aims to guard his flock of soiled doves with one clean shot...

Slocum discovers that a pen can be mightier than a six-gun...John Slocum is no saint, but neither is he a Six-Gun Devil, the title of a yellowback novel chronicling a massacre he supposedly perpetrated. Unfortunately, a bounty hunter believes the tall tale and comes looking to collect the price on Slocum's head. And if he doesn't find the author of this masterpiece and put a stop to the lies, the next thing written about Slocum will be his obituary...

Slocum's about to go to hell and back...Passing uneasily through the dried-up town of Espero, Texas, John Slocum learns soon enough that his apprehension is justified. After a not-so-friendly welcome at the Six Feet Under Saloon, he's given the choice between a bullet or a bit of employment: Escort the town mortician's strikingly pretty bride-to-be from a train station at Dexter Junction—in exchange for a hefty sum. But with someone after the gunslinger and the mysterious beauty, Slocum reckons that the undertaker neglected to tell him the whole story. There's treachery in store for Slocum upon returning to Espero, a place where men have been known to land in an early grave... much too early...

Slocum's got just enough rope to hang himself...or someone else.With buzzards circling in the sky, young Tom Garvin hopes his search for the lost cattle of the Bar M Ranch has not ended in vain. It turns out the carrion those birds are after isn't cows but the body of a man hanging from a dying tree with a very mysterious black rope around his neck. Impressed by the rope, Garvin decides to take it—along with the dead man's beautiful horse—back to the ranch where he works with John Slocum. And the two of them are about to learn that this is one rope they don't want to be at the end of...

Caught in a snowstorm in the Cascade Range, Slocum tries to bed down in the heavy Oregon woods. But when he finds himself in the crosshairs of a pair of inhuman glowing eyes—accompanied by a terrifying screech and an unbearable stench—he realizes that he is most certainly not alone. He's just run into a legendary local nightmare, one that is about to unleash a bloody storm...

Slocum's in town—and in charge...It'll take more than a blowhard in a tin badge to bring law and order to Shot Creek. A range war is brewing—and bringing the whole town down with it. The mayor of Shot Creek needs a hero—and he's looking to Slocum to fill those boots. The gunslinger has second thoughts about pinning on the star, until a sweet thing serving up grub proves hard to resist. And when the troublemakers refuse to back down and his hair-trigger deputy gets to scheming, Slocum and his Winchester start chewing 'em up and spitting 'em out...

Slocum's got bullets—and he knows how to use 'em...Slocum has a big, juicy bone to pick with Sluice Godfrey. A while back, the varmint tricked him into fighting on the wrong side of a range war, killing innocents. Sentenced to swing, Sluice has been busted out of the big house by his compadres, who killed Slocum's friend in the process. Recovering from a bad blow—and the nurse who offered more than sponge baths—Slocum's following the fugitive's path of death and destruction, mining a rich vein of vengeance...

Slocum's going to get down to the bottom of things...John Slocum's riding his Appaloosa to the Triple T Ranch for work when he decides to pay a visit to his longtime friend Marybeth Meecher. But instead of a smile from her shining face, he's greeted by the business end of a shotgun wielded by a scowling old man named Miguel. He's Marybeth's handyman, but he hasn't seen her in three months... Miguel is also seeing fewer of his friends from a nearby Crow Indian tribe. Rumor has it, they're being used as slaves in the mines at the Triple T Ranch—not exactly the kind of work Slocum wanted. But after an attack from a gang of thugs, Slocum knows that finding out where everyone's disappearing to and seeing Marybeth again means he'll need to do some digging...

There are no innocents. There are no survivors.In the Civil War, Major Clayton McGee led his men in battle. Now, he is leading them on a quest to find his wife and daughter—and he will never cease his search. No matter how many people are slaughtered. No matter how many towns must be wiped off the map. He will find his quarry if the chase takes him straight to hell. John Slocum has seen his share of massacres—so when he comes across one dead town after another, he knows that those behind the carnage are not going to stop. Through the Oklahoma badlands, he follows their trail of destruction. And when he meets a pair of desperate women, he realizes that McGee isn't driven by duty or greed—but madness...

Slocum takes a hard ride with the prettiest teamster he's ever seen... John Slocum has known plenty of wild women. But tough-as-nails teamster Willa Malloy is a different breed of beauty. And she's out for blood after a pack of renegade Apaches killed her driving partner. Lucky for her, Slocum has his own job to do—find the insane renegade leader and put him down like the mad dog he is. But protecting Willa at the same time might prove to be too much—even for Slocum.