EXCERPT

To all the Black heroes of the Old West who were lost in obscurity.
May this novel anew your memory and assure you of prominence in the sands of time.

PROLOGUE

Louise Collier's high heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked briskly across the room holding a packaged manuscript. Her hairdo was pinned tightly to her head and her long print dress rustled against her legs as she walked through the room filled with piles of paperback books stacked on top of each other. She felt a pang of excitement as she walked through a door marked "Publisher - Bentley Keller."

"Here's the manuscript from that nice young man you sent out west," she said, handing Bentley Keller the manuscript.

Bentley's eyes shifted quickly to the package. He was in his mid-fifties, overweight, and wore expensive clothing. The diamonds on his fingers sparkled and his eyes grew large as he held the script. He said nothing as he ripped into the package and pulled out the pages of a novel.

"I hope he's all right, living out there with all those savages." Louise stood beside his desk, toying with her fingernails. Even though she was an attractive woman, Louise was nearing twenty-five and had not married. She had the horrible fear inside that she just might be an old maid.

"He'll be okay," Bentley grunted. "He's fresh out of college and going out west is the best thing that could happen to him. He'll be one of my best writers someday."

Louise walked to the chair in front of the desk and sat down, her knees together.

"I don't see why you didn't just let him sit in there with all the other writers and make up those stories. He seemed so nice."

"I have to know what's going on," he said, ignoring her sentiment for the young writer. "I feel out of touch with things here in New York. It's 1880 and I need to know what's happening out on the frontier."

"What's really going on out there in the wild, wild west might not be exciting at all, if your writers tell the truth in their books."

Bentley was on the defensive. He looked at her sternly and said, "I can take any story and turn it into a dime novel. The trouble is, my writers all start to sound alike after a while. I need fresh stories about the west."

"Oh, I know that, Mr. Keller. I'm just thinking about that sweet young thing out there with all those..."

"Here's a note," Bentley said, taking the top sheet from the script. "Let's see what he has to say. 'Dear Mr. Keller, the enclosed manuscript (that I hope you will use for a dime novel) is a little different than what I expected to find out here in the west. It's a story about a colored man who wanted to become a cowboy, but instead, becomes a gunfighter. There are a lot of Negroes who are cowboys, and some are gunfighters. And get this-no one has written about them. Some of them aren't treated very nice as you will see when you read my story. I got the story from a bartender in Abilene. Sincerely,' and he signs his name."

Louise was excited. "A Negro cowboy! That sounds exciting. I'd like to read that one myself. What's the name of the novel?"

Bentley reads, "'Sammy Morgan - Black Gunfighter, by Cole Taylor.' I don't know about that title. I'll probably change it." He lit a cigar and leaned back.

"You want to read this? Be my guest," he said pushing the manuscript across the desk towards Louise. "You read. I'll take notes."

Louise got herself comfortable, peeled off the title page, and began to read.