Wolfville Nights
1902
Wolfville Nights drops us into a lawless corner of the Southwest where a deck of cards can be worth more than a man's life and reputation is earned in blood. Told through the weathered voice of the Old Cattleman, this sequel to Lewis's Wolfville tales introduces Silver Phil, a gambler and criminal whose charm masks something far more dangerous. Phil drifts into Wolfville with mischief in his eyes and violence in his past, quickly establishing himself as a man who plays dirty and holds grudges longer than most. As Phil's schemes escalate from cheating at cards to something far more sinister, the town's uneasy tolerance reaches its breaking point. The frontier may be wild, but even Wolfville has lines that shouldn't be crossed. Lewis writes with the blunt force of a man who knew these towns and the men who built them. This is frontier noir at its most uncompromising, with sharp dialogue, real danger, and characters who exist in moral gray zones. For readers who love their Westerns unsentimental and authentic.
Editions
X-Ray
“Badgers is big people an' strong as ponies too. An' obdurate! Son, a badger is that decided an' set in his way that sech feather-blown things as hills is excitable an' vacillatin' by comparison.””
— Alfred Henry Lewis
“Speakin' of the Jones an' Plummer trail, I once hears a dance-hall girl who volunteers some songs over in a Tucson hurdygurdy, an' that maiden sort o' dims my sights some. First, she gives us The Dying Ranger, the same bein' enough of itse'f to start a sob or two; speshul when folks is, as Colonel Sterett says, 'a leetle drinkin'.' Then when the public clamours for more she sings something which begins: "'Thar's many a boy who once follows the herds, On the Jones an' Plummer trail; Some dies of drink an' some of lead, An' some over kyards, an' none in bed; But they're dead game sports, so with naught but good words, We gives 'em "Farewell an' hail."' "Son, this sonnet brings down mem'ries; and they so stirs me I has to vamos that hurdygurdy to keep my emotions from stampedin' into tears. Shore, thar's soft spots in me the same as in oilier gents; an' that melody a-makin' of references to the old Jones an' Plummer days comes mighty clost to meltin' everything about me but my guns an' spurs.””
— Alfred Henry Lewis
“Also, I'm freighted to the limit with the tenderfoot's usual outfit of misinformation””
— Alfred Henry Lewis
“I partakes of that dog”
— Alfred Henry Lewis
