Unicorn Western Full Saga - Paperback

“Edward,” said Clint, still catching his breath. “We’ve got a problem. The Water Reader says … ” 

A thirty-pound bag of oats flew across the stable, striking Clint in the face and sending him to the barn’s packed clay floor.

Clint stood, brushed himself off, and peeked around the corner, where he nearly ran into Edward’s enormous white rump. Edward looked back at Clint over his shoulder, his spiraled horn pointing at Clint in accusation. 

“It’s me,” said Clint. 

“I know,” said the unicorn. His dry, gravelly voice was eerily similar to Clint’s. People often confused them, much to Edward’s delight whenever he sauntered up behind women, making crass come-ons in the name of the Marshal then falling into hysterics as they slapped Clint instead of the true speaker. 

“You hit your partner with a sack of oats?”

Edward lowered his lips into the polished silver trough and began sucking water. A magic glow spread in a cloud from his head, sending another sack of oats flying at Clint. The new sack struck the Marshal, too, this time launching him into Edward’s rear. 

“Apparently,” Edward said, launching another bag. 

“Stop it! In the name of The Realm!” 

“Good one,” said Edward, his eyes still on the water. The only sounds in the stable were Clint’s heavy snarl and the vague sucking sound of equine drinking. 

Clint slapped Edward’s hindquarters. “Back out so I can talk to you proper. Come on.” 

“No.”

“Edward.” 

“Clint.” 

“I need to talk to you. This is important.” 

“Tell it to your new horse.” 

So that was it. 

“I keep telling you, you can come with us if you’d like. Just because I can’t ride you doesn’t mean you can’t be with us just the same.” 

“I don’t need your pity.” 

“Edward … ” 

“Despite my endless telling, you still don’t understand the meaning of an unridden unicorn who keeps the company of humans.” 

Clint said nothing. 

“I once knew a foal with a deformed horn. His name was William, but that didn’t matter since all the unicorns called him ‘Stumpy.’ He’d hang around with groups that didn’t want him but that didn’t have the heart to reject him.” 

“I don’t have time to talk about this right now.”

“Of course you don’t,” Edward said. A sack of oats hit Clint a third time, knocking the gunslinger forward hard enough to drive his face fully between Edward’s cheeks just as the unicorn loudly saluted from his rear.

Clint began squeezing around Edward’s bulk. He moved up toward his head, maneuvered in front, placed his hands on Edward’s face, and pushed. 

 “Really?” Edward laughed. “I weigh seven times what you do, and I’m magic. You’re going to push me out by force? Would you like me to wear a halter to make it easier?” The unicorn twisted his voice into that of a damsel in distress. “Yar, Master, tell me what to do!” 

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” said Clint, still pushing. 

“You’re underestimating my ability to ignore you,” said Edward. 

“Then I’ll urinate in your water trough.”

“I’ll rinse it out.” 

“You think you’ll ever get it clean enough to suit your compulsions?” 

Edward sighed. It was an odd noise, coming from a unicorn. 

“Fine. Out in the yard. You go first, or I’ll crush you.” 

“Just be careful and you won’t crush me,” said Clint, sucking in his gut so Edward could back out of the stable. 

“I wasn’t talking about an accident that might happen. I was making a threat.” 

Clint squeezed out the way he’d come. He led the unicorn out into the small pasture — although he knew Edward would insist it was a garden because pastures were for horses. 

Once together in the hot midday sun, Edward faced Clint and waited for the gunslinger to speak. His always-pristine coat was so bright that he was hard to look at, and Clint had to squint until his eyes adjusted. The animosity still in the unicorn’s eyes made his pearlescent, spiraled horn look extremely sharp. 

Clint figured Edward wanted him to speak first — a power move, since he hadn’t wanted discussion. So he did, in the name of expedition.

“Hassle Stone is returning to town,” said Clint. 

“Fabulous.” 

“He’ll want to kill me. And you.” 

Edward laughed. 

“He’ll want to kill everyone in town, or make them his toys. You remember what it was like when we arrived.” 

“My days as a do-gooder are over.”

“I’m still the Marshal. I intend to do what I can. You’re still the Marshal’s … ” He had to be careful how he said this. “Deadly sidekick.” 

“Sidekick?” Edward repeated. 

“Ultimate weapon. Head honcho. Name your title.” 

Edward said, “I don’t want to fight Hassle Stone. I want to go to the saloon and drink. You can come with me. We’ll ring out the end of our partnership in style.” 

“What better way to end our partnership than by committing one final heroic act? Save the town. That’s how two law — law-beings? — should go out: in style. Beings. Hmm. I’m sorry; I don’t know any terms that cover both men and unicorns.” 

“Hassle Stone bores me,” said Edward. “He was a simple bandit, and barely a challenge. You’ll get on my back, I’ll extend my protection, they’ll shoot at us, we’ll be impervious, you’ll shoot back, and then he’ll die or run. Once upon a time, the end, any questions, etc.” 

“No reason not to help me, then.” 

Edward scraped his hooves in the dirt, looking far more horselike than Clint dared to point out.

“Fine,” said the unicorn.

“There’s more to it, though.”

“Of course.” 

“Stone won’t come alone, and he’ll know what he’s facing this time. He’ll bring men. Lots of men. Dozens. He can’t come straight at us, so he’ll go after others and hold knives to their throats or pistols to their heads. You can’t protect all of them.” 

“You say that as though I would want to.” Edward’s horn started glowing a soft yellowish pink, and an object flew toward him from the barn — a can of apple brew, fashioned from city metal. Edward used his magic horn to set the can in front of him then held it deftly between his teeth, raised his head, and bit it open, drinking the brew as it spilled.

“You need to stop drinking if we’re going to do this.” 

“I weigh fourteen hundred pounds and am magic,” said Edward. “Get off my back, Mom.” 

“We’ll need a posse to cover the angles. Enough men to match Stone’s. Two dozen at least.” 

Edward seemed bored. “Sure.” 

“So let’s ride out and get them.” 

“Peachy.” The unicorn’s horn glowed again, and Clint found himself flying through the air. He landed roughly on Edward’s back, facing the wrong way, seconds before Edward trotted off. 

Unicorn Western (book 1)

The Wanderers (book 2)

A Fistful of Magic (book 3)

Shimmer to Yuma (book 4)

The Man Who Shot Alan Whitney (book 5)

The Spectacular Seven (book 6)

Open Meadows (book 7)

The Unforgotten (book 8)

The Magic Bunch (book 9)

Pages: 716
Trim size: 6x9 inches
Paper: Cream

Johnny B. Truant is the bestselling author of Fat Vampire, adapted by The SyFy Network as Reginald the Vampire. His other books include Pretty Killer, Gore Point, Invasion, The Beam, Dead City, Unicorn Western, and over 100 other titles across many genres.  

Originally from Ohio, Johnny and his family now live in Austin, Texas where he's finally surrounded by creative types as weird as he is.