Tag: western

Mary From the Prayer Ward

  By

★★½
“When you order Wynonna Earp on Temu.”

I mean: Stetson wearin’, six-gun shootin’ country gal, on a mission to slay demons, vampires and things that go bump in the West? Yeah, it’s like that. Mind you, there’s a rough start to this, with three minutes of what is likely a top contender for the worst acting of 2026. I guess it’s good to get it out of the way early, and it does make the rest of the cast look like Oscar candidates in comparison. To be fair, Jones is decent enough in the title role. Even when lumbered with some pretty clunky globs of exposition about a 17th-century Satanic cult, she is generally tolerable, and occasionally above that.

Things unfold in the rural Kansas town of Bentley, where a series of gruesome murders is baffling police chief Peaks (Neighill). He seems oddly unaware of the presence in Bentley of Mary, whose parents were fighters of the occult, killed in the line of duty. She now carries on the family tradition, with the help of her blind uncle Hughes (Polk). Naturally, these murders are the work of the unsubtly-named Velkir the Butcher (Smith), who is intent on completing a ceremony originally started in 1690’s Salem. For, y’see, the witch trials there were not hysteria, so much as a carefully-constructed cover-up of the truth, which involved a Satanic plot to raise Hecate. “What’s a Hecate?” asks Chief Peaks. Explanation follows.

It does feel like the structure of the film is a little weird. It’s not until well after the half-way point that Peaks and Mary formally team up, leading to a bit of a gallop towards the obvious confrontation with Mr. Butcher. This partnership requires a diversion, in which Mary takes him on a house call, helping a woman who is reporting strange happening in her home. He blames psychological issues, until she demonstrates otherwise, thereby convincing him of her genuine skill-set. It feels like this should have happened much earlier, to explain the casual way in which this nun is allowed to poke around crime scenes. Well, she’s got a clerical collar on, which seems to demonstrate a loose understanding of religious garb. 

My main issue, however, was the copious use of highly unconvincing CGI, from muzzle flashes and blood spatters, to showers of sparks as the supernatural entities are dispatched. It absolutely took me out of the situation every time I noticed them. Which was every time they appeared. Which was every time anything much happened. Neighill is certainly guilty of trying do much: between writing, directing, editing, co-starring, composing songs, etc. it feels like every other credit is his. But despite a cover pic (above) which makes it look more like Mary from the Special Ed Class, this isn’t worthless. As noted, Jones is an engaging heroine, and Smith’s scenery chewing antics are fun, taken in the right, B-movie way. It’s no replacement for Wynonna Earp. Yet as dollar store knock-offs go, I’ve seen worse.

Dir: Andrew Neighill
Star: Mandy Jones, Glenn Polk, Andrew Neighill, Christopher Thom Smith

The Pinkertons

  By

★★★½
“We never sleep.”

When we think of the tough women in the old West, the first ones that come to mind are usually, the criminals. Let’s face it, most people we celebrate as “legends of the old West” today were not really heroes. More often, they were people who broke the law, or highly questionable personalities such as Calamity Jane, Belle Starr, Pearl Hart or Etta Place. But we should not forget there is also the other side of the law! Though women were present in quite a number of job areas and were vital in the development of the country, very often history writing has focused rather on the achievements of men, overlooking the women’s part of the success story. But now and again, an interesting yet forgotten character is rediscovered and attracts new attention.

One of these characters is Kate Warne (sometimes spelled Warn), born in 1833 in New York. Coming from a poor background, life turned even more challenging after she became a widow at just 23 years old. She was working as a cleaning woman when she saw an advertisement in a newspaper. Allan Pinkerton, head of Pinkerton’s detective agency, was looking for new employees, interested in working for him. The agency were involved in quite a number of fascinating cases, such as the “Molly Maguires”. Those events were referenced in the Sherlock Holmes novel The Valley of Fear, and subsequently became the basis for a 1970 movie with Sean Connery and Richard Harris. Warne was able to convince Pinkerton to employ a female, arguing that women have an eye for details and are excellent observers. Indeed, it seems that Pinkerton grew quite fond of her as he spoke highly of her after her death.

Warne was active in solving crime cases and is said to have played an essential role in discovering a plot to kill Abraham Lincoln in 1861. She guarded him when his train passed locations where an attack was planned. (Unfortunately, she wasn’t around in 1865.) For the whole story I refer you to Warne’s Wikipedia page. But I especially like the following sentence there: “It is believed that Pinkerton came up with the slogan to his agency “we never sleep” as a result of Warne’s guard of Lincoln that night.” How much of that is true is difficult to say. Pinkerton himself was rumored to invent his own stories. He was definitely a man who knew how to blow his own trumpet. Though he had successes which prove the quality of his agency, and for a long time the Pinkertons were the most well-known and respectable detective agency.

The real Kate Warne

Kate had become the head of the female detectives department at Pinkerton’s, but died young, at just 35 years old in Chicago, of pneumonia. The Great Fire of 1871 there destroyed a lot of the company’s records, so not so much is known about Warne, apart from what Pinkerton himself reported about her and the cases in which she was involved. But in recent years this highly interesting character has had a resurgence in popular media. Among others, there have been a couple of children’s books, a novel, a non-fiction book about the female detectives at Pinkertons, a comic book and a low-budget movie on Amazon Prime, Pinkerton, in which she appears. She also played a very small role in the three-part TV series about Lincoln on the History Channel, and there has been talk of a big-budget Amazon MGM film, with Emily Blunt playing her and Jaume Collet-Serra directing.

I’m not quite sure when and why this new interest in Warne arose. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it started with this small, Canadian TV series from 2014, that ran until the following May. The Pinkertons was made by Rosetta Media and Buffalo Gal Pictures, in partnership with Channel Zero. Only one season with 22 episodes was produced, and obviously, it was not successful enough to get a second season. Which is, actually, kind of a pity, as the show ended with a cliffhanger. It’s a Western show, yes. But it is also a detective show, making it a very unusual hybrid. We are not used to seeing cowboys and detectives in the same series, and it is a smart way to cater to two different potential audiences: Western and crime fans.

It must be said, the budget was not very high: over the course of the series, we get to see the same sets again and again. The farm where Kate (Martha MacIsaac) lives for the time being, working for the elder Pinkerton, Allan (Angus MacFadyen). The local saloon in which she and young William Pinkerton (Jacob Blair) regularly meet. And the Sheriff’s office where suspects are imprisoned. Also, a lot of episodes take place in the woods or large fields, with single buildings housing the perpetrators or victims. The whole series is set in Kansas City, Missouri in 1865. Pinkerton Sr. thinks a lot of shady things happen here, which is why he insists that his son and new employee Kate stay there and work “undercover”. The Lincoln story discussed above is mentioned, but doesn’t play any role here.

The cases themselves are well-thought out. Not so complicated as to become ridiculous, nor easily and quickly figured out by viewers. They cover a wide range from murder and identity theft, to the killing of a dog. The three main characters are generally given equal attention, for this was before female characters in modern media started to become the center of everything (mostly by showing how inadequate or ridiculous men are, in the opinion of modern TV/film executives). There’s no such need here; while Will is initially not very happy about Kate, especially because his father makes her his superior, he quite quickly acknowledges her expertise and knowledge. They subsequently form a good team and work well together.

The pairing makes it possible for them to investigate different places and witnesses at the same time. Luckily, they also keep tabs on each other, with episodes where one would have been killed if the other hadn’t been around. Allan himself pops up now and again in the show, before he vanishes off to do something else. Other regulars include AnnaLee Webb (Jennifer Pudavick) who owns the saloon and the brothel in it; a black worker on Kate’s farm, John Bell; local sheriff Lawrence Logan; and Kenji Harada, a Japanese man who is initially a client, before becoming a Pinkerton apprentice. MacIsaac plays Kate Warne as a sophisticated young woman without attitude. She is neither a bombshell nor a spinstery type. She is always polite, well-dressed and appears a bit out of place in this typically Western town, as if she does belong more in the big city.

Meanwhile, Will is a bit of a rascal and wants to prove his worth as a detective to his grumpy but sympathetic father. But he and Kate get along well, developing a friendly working relationship. She doesn’t reveal much about her background. I wonder if screenwriters maybe wanted to set up something along the lines of the Benedict Cumberbatch version of Sherlock Holmes, without the extremes. She definitely has a scientific mind, quoting facts that indicate she is well-read, and uses what could be called early forensic investigative methods. But she is not set up as a genius and doesn’t solve the cases alone: this is genuine team work. In the beginning, I wondered if Kate really belonged in the “girls with guns” genre, since an investigator is not necessarily someone involved in much action. But I shouldn’t have worried: there’s enough to confirm her action heroine status!

Regrettably, the show had an open ending. Billy the Kid turns up with a new experimental rifle to take revenge on old Pinkerton, finally challenging young Will to a duel. They have a shoot-out but the outcome has to stay a mystery, as this is where the show ended. It was, of course, a gamble of the producers, in the hope that a second season would be ordered. Unfortunately it didn’t pay off, and we are left with an unfinished story. I do understand why it might not have been a big ratings success. For a Western fan, there might not be enough gun-fighting; and for a crime series fan, the Western tropes might be largely uninteresting. But I did like the mixture. All in all, this is a nice little show. 

I did sometimes think there could have been better set design: in the interior of houses, everything looked a bit spartan. Also, I wondered if the way the three main characters were such a good team and got along so well, might have made the show too humdrum for many. Some stronger emotional conflicts or personal problems in their relationships with each other, could have made the whole thing a bit more interesting. But you don’t always need that. Sometimes it’s nice just to have a team that does its work, has a good relationship with each other, and that’s it. This is a well-done detective show that might have helped to reintroduce Kate Warne to the modern public. I liked it well enough, and am indeed curious what a big movie about her might offer, if the proposed production with Emily Blunt should indeed become a reality.

Creators: Kevin Abrams and Adam Moore
Star: Martha MacIsaac, Jacob Blair, Angus Macfadyen, Jennifer Pudavick 

Lola Colt

  By

★★★
“From stage to stage.”

This spaghetti Western sees Lola (Falana) arrive in the town of Santa Ana with her troupe of dancing girls, after one of them falls ill. They need to stay there while she recuperates, under the care of the local not-quite-a-doctor-yet, Rod Strater (Martell). The town has bigger problems, being ruthlessly squeezed for every penny by El Diablo (Cobos). Lola lost her family to a not dissimilar band of outlaws, and is peeved that the menfolk are utterly cowed by El Diablo, even after Rod explains that the villains has taken hostages and is using them to compel the town’s good behaviour. But after a particularly tragic death, Lola has had enough, and rouses the town folk to action.

In many ways, this is a standard Western, with the lone good guy taking on the villains: hence its subtitle, “Face to face with the devil”. Except, of course, in this case, the guy is a gal. Oh, and Lola is black. I have just mentioned this fact more in the review, than the film ever does, being refreshingly colour-blind. It’s especially remarkable given the era, a good few years before Pam Grier would become a trailblazer back in Hollywood. It’s tempting to read race into Lola being greeted with, “We don’t need your kind around here,” when she steps off the coach. Subsequent events show it’s just the local morality police, who are severely unimpressed with her profession, rather than the shade of her skin. 

In another twist, the villain’s real name is actually Larry Stern, which sounds more like an advertising executive. He’s a businessman who got peeved when his plans for a railroad fell through because the locals wouldn’t sell him their land, and decided to take revenge on them. Falana, though born in New Jersey, was already a star on Italian TV, and also performs a few musical numbers here. Though I did wonder where the music, a full-on jazzy production, was coming from in the town’s saloon, where there are no musicians at all. She certainly brings it with her moves, which are much more Vegas than Old West. And she would indeed go on to become the highest-paid performer in Sin City. 

Until the final assault on El Diablo’s compound, where she demonstrates she does know her way around both ends of a firearm, Lola is more a figurehead to the town’s resistance, encouraging them to break free of their fears.  The physical side of things is mostly left to Rod, who gets a couple of lengthy fist-fights, including one with El Diablo, when he’s not dealing with jealous girlfriend Rose (Schürer). It is this middle section where the film struggles a little, being particularly generic in its elements. But Falana is always compelling to watch, and it’s a shame she wasn’t given many further opportunities in our genre: 1975’s Lady Cocoa was perhaps the closest she came, although it doesn’t quite qualify for inclusion here. 

Dir: Siro Marcellini
Star: Lola Falana, Peter Martell, Germán Cobos, Erna Schürer
a.k.a. Black Tigress

Oklahoma Annie

  By

★★★
“Annie, forget your gun.”

Judy Canova, known as ‘Queen of the Cowgirls’, was a popular star of radio and screen in the forties and fifties. She had a certain schtick: a homely but honest country gal, who stumbled into trouble – often with singing involved. I admit, the mere title of one such entity, Joan of Ozark, made me laugh. Here – despite the title – she plays a character called Judy, as she often did. The film’s name comes from Judy’s grandmother, who had been a much-feared sheriff. According to Judy, “The bad men in these parts were so scared of her, that they either plum reformed, or hung themselves by way of cooperating.” Judy now runs a trading post.

She is deputized by the town’s new sheriff Dan Fraser (Russell), after Judy captures a bank robber, Curt Walker (Barcroft), using her store and its contents in a way which reminded me of Home Alone. But after Fraser heads off to get a judge to try the case, leaving Judy in charge, her lack of relevant experience becomes problematic. She knows her way around a horse: law enforcement, not so much. However, in a remarkably progressive story-line considering the era, she rounds up the women of the town, who then ride off to save the day, and Fraser. I guess that could be considered a spoiler. But if you think a fifties Western was ever going to do anything except have good prevail… 

I found myself liking Judy Canova – both the actress and the character – more than I would have expected. If the latter is clearly short on book learnin’, and hardly what you would call a classical beauty, she makes for an appealing heroine, being brave, honest and warm-hearted. I’d like to have seem more of her – and, say, less of the two prospectors who are supporting characters, try to steal her success, and whose comic relief mugging certainly outstayed its welcome. Canova falling for Fraser (and his newfangled auto-mo-beel), causing her pigtails to go independent, is the stuff of classic slapstick. I didn’t even mind the three songs she sings: they are kept brief, and the one where there are four Judys, courtesy of a set of mirrors, harmonising with each other, is genuinely well-done and charming.

Of course, between the light-hearted tone in general, and the fact this is well over seventy years old, you won’t get anything like modern GWG action. But considering these factors, it’s surprisingly ahead of its time. What stood out for me was Canova, who is massively against type of almost any other Western heroine. Maybe heroine in any genre: Melissa McCarthy in Spy might be the closest, though she’s considerably smarter. I could see Canova as a goofy sidekick, not the central character. Yet I undeniably found myself rooting for her, charmed by her innocence and unstoppable good nature. If not something I’d want as a regular diet, it was a refreshing way to clean my palate.

Dir: R. G. Springsteen
Star: Judy Canova, John Russell, Grant Withers, Roy Barcroft

Billie the Kid

  By

★½
“Sadly, they’re not kid-ding.”

I’m inclined to look kindly on this, because I suspect it was a local production, filmed here in Arizona. While the end credits are silent on the topic, there are enough saguaro cacti about, to make it likely the faux Western town and other locations used, were somewhere near me. I recognize an actor or two as well. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a film I would hold up as a shining example of quality Arizona cinema. While clearly set in the Old West, the movie is stuffed with anachronisms, from haircuts through a terrible British accent to glasses. It consequently never succeeds in establishing a convincing sense of period. This is a bit of a shame, since the Western horror action heroine isn’t one we see often. 

In this case, it’s vampires which provide the darker elements – though these can daywalk, probably because it’s harder to film at night. A small clan are seeking the location of Drakul, a senior bloodsucker who can grant a blessing to his chosen one. Emphasis on “one”, leading to dissent in the ranks. Meanwhile, the bodies they left behind causes local Sheriff Jack Barton (Prell) to assemble a posse. Included is Billie (Hsu), who was languishing in Barton’s jail, but is allowed out due to her tracking skills. There’s also a Van Helsing type, in the shape of black “British” guy – did I mention the accent? – James Underhill (Monroe), who seems to know a lot about them. One might say a suspicious amount.

A simple approach would have worked better here, pitting cowboys against vampires in a straightforward action adventure. But the film diverts too much time and energy into uninteresting areas. For example, it tries repeatedly to generate romantic tension between Billie and Jack. However, when this relies on lines like, “I’m plenty good – and I’m good at plenty”, it’s a struggle which is more uphill than the side of El Capitan. Similarly, one of the vampires (Conran) has taken up with a prospector (did I mention the haircut?), a thread which occupies running-time and little else. The same goes for Billie’s back story, involving sexual abuse and revenge. Couldn’t she just be a gunslinger without a tragic past?

Things grind to a particular halt in the middle, freeing me up to consider whether or not this was better than the infamous and similarly themed 1966 B-movie, Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. Given John Carradine called the latter the worst of the 343 feature films in which he appeared, the competition is tough. This probably isn’t quite as bad: Hsu does what she can with dialogue which is often spectacularly terrible. But much like its predecessor, this fails badly as a Western, and likely even more so as a horror film. I was left with a greater understanding of precisely why the two genres have largely gone their own way. Though the general ineptness in this production certainly doesn’t help.

Dir: Paul Tomborello
Star: Olivia Hsu, Frank Prell, Zion Monroe, Veronica Conran

They Call Her Death

  By

★★½
“At no point, does anyone call her death…”

It’s clear what Snell is going for here. This is a throwback to the spaghetti Westerns of the seventies, along with Italian exploitation films from around the same time. I certainly admire the effort which went into this: for example, rather than shooting digitally and applying effects to imitate film, Snell actually shot on Kodak 16mm stock. I did not know that was still a thing, to be honest. Some of the other elements, like the music, also do a good job of reproducing the era – the movie poster is another one. I’ve seen enough of this kind of movie (mostly through Project Kinski), to appreciate what he’s doing.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen enough of this kind of thing, to be able to differentiate the good from the bad, and a fair bit of this skews towards the latter. Molly Pray (Rippel) can only watch as her husband is gunned down in front of her by a bounty-hunter, having been framed for the murder of a lawyer, But she will not accept this, and begins to unravel the threads of the conspiracy, which made Mr. Pray an unwitting victim. And when I say, “unravel”, I mean with extreme, bloody prejudice. She guts some, blows the faces off others, on her way up to the chain to the person pulling the strings at the top. She’s holding a stick of dynamite. We’ll leave it at that. 

If you are looking for a comparison, it would be something along the lines of Hobo With a Shotgun. That’s a film I love dearly, and that might be partly why I’m a little sniffy about this. Because if you compare Hobo to Death, the results do not favour this, almost across the board. Most obviously, while Rippel is decent, she’s barely in the same solar system as Rutger Hauer. The lack of a strong antagonist here is a problem too. Instead, Molly largely chews up one person after another. But because we don’t know much about them – beyond their connection, sometimes tangential, to the death of her husband – there’s a severe lack of emotional impact, even as she’s dismembering them for her pigs to eat. 

Finally, the pacing leaves something to be desired, especially the sections where the focus drifts off Molly, such as to the friendly new deputy, who is generally on her side. Almost any time he was on the screen, I found myself quickly losing interest, and keen for it to go back to the directly focused line of Mully’s vengeance. The reliance on mostly practical effects is laudable, and there are certainly some impressively gory moments of which Lucio Fulci and his ilk would be proud. But too many of the supporting performances feel like they come from people who were available. Given the shoot took several years from start to finish, that may not be much of a stretch. 

Dir: Austin Snell
Star: Sheri Rippel, Jeff Boyer, Devan R. Garcia, Shawn Nyberg

The Stolen Valley

  By

★★½
“Topples over into earnestness”

This feels like a modern Western. I think it was shot up on the borders of Utah and Arizona, since I recognized scenes shot at the Buckskin Tavern, in that area. While contemporary, with relatively minor tweaks, it could easily take place a century or more ago, back when robber land barons were a thing in the Old West. Lupe (Covarrubias) is in desperate straits, with her mother Adamina (Miranda) in need of money to pay for medical treatment she can’t afford. There’s another shock: the father, Carl (Fitzgerald), who Lupe long believed dead, is actually alive, and might be the last chance of getting the necessary funds. So she decides to make the journey to see him.

Barely is she under way – she’s seeking to pawn jewellery to raise a little cash – when she encounters Maddie (Hethcoat). And when I say “encounters”, she comes out of the back of the pawn-shop, guns blazing. For Maddie has a sizable debt too, to some unpleasant people, and now they perceive Lupe as her accomplice. The two young women decide Carl could solve both of their problems, only to find him engaged in a dubious scheme to sell off land, which actually belongs to Adamina, to an oil company, having convinced them Adamina is dead. It’s a move which will result in the indigenous people being thrown off the property, and Lupe’s unexpected presence clearly represents a threat to  the deal. 

This does a lot of things right. Most obviously, it takes place in some gorgeous locations, and the photography does them justice. The performances are generally effective as well, with Hethcoat in particular a lot of fun to watch. She cuts a striking figure with her blonde hair, cowboy hat, and a take no prisoners attitude. Maddie is in sharp contrast to Lupe, who has been brought up “the right way”, and they make for an amusing pairing as they play off each other. Although scenes like the gratuitous flamenco dancing may not move the plot forward, they are still amusing to watch, and they build the character. Indeed, they might be fun precisely because they are separate from the plot. 

Because that’s the film’s problem. It’s a script where far too much happens because the story needs it. Why did Adamina leave without taking the property deed, clearly her most precious asset? Why did Carl hang on, not just to the deed, but also the letter Adamina wrote to her own mother, for over twenty years? And don’t even start me on the remarkable coincidence of Maddie’s background. Add in a not-so subtle subtext of “Men are bad, and white men – they’re the worst“, and it all begins to topple over under the weight of its own moral superiority. I’ve no doubt Edwards’ heart is in the right place. However, the message here too often gets in the way of the movie. 

Dir: Jesse Edwards
Star: Briza Covarrubias, Allee Sutton Hethcoat, Micah Fitzgerald, Paula Miranda

Sheriff Bride: Rob’s Story, by Joi Copeland

  By

Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

This is the last (and at 120 pages, slightly the longest) book in the Sheriff Bride series, each installment written by a different author, which my wife Barb and I read together. (She appreciates these books much more than I do.) Here, our focus is on the youngest Hardin sister, Rob (Roberta); and three years have passed since the opening of the first book, so she’s now very close to 18, and probably is 18 by the end of this installment. (In western Texas in the late 1870s or early 80s, she would be viewed as of legitimately marriageable age –and the series title is a clue that this might be a relevant consideration.) While I don’t go so far as to recommend the series to most readers, if you do read it, I recommend doing so in order; you need the understanding of the situation and the characters as these have developed over time in the earlier books in order to properly experience this one.

Joi Copeland is a more prolific author than any of the other three in this tetralogy, and stylistically a somewhat more polished writer, with less of an aversion to pronouns than her colleagues (though there are still places where she under-uses them). This book is also free of editorial issues. Otherwise, its general flavor is pretty consistent with the previous books; plot-wise, it’s distinct from them in two ways. One of these would involve a major spoiler (though the reader learns it fairly early on). The other is that it’s the only one of the four to feature a sustained, multiple-combatant gunfight, with – for this series – a high body count. (It has the highest kick-butt quotient of any of the four books.) However, it has to be said that the author doesn’t handle action scenes very well. With this one, we actually come in on the action only when it’s almost over; then the part we missed is later recounted by a participant, in no great detail. So a lot of the dramatic potential here is simply thrown away. And although the neon lamp wasn’t invented until 1902, when I read the reactions of two characters to each other’s looks in the first chapter, I commented to Barb that we have a flashing neon sign that they’re a couple-to-be. :-)

For me, the main factor that pulled down my rating was the marked implausibility of the plotting, all through the book. Yes, I can see why it’s necessary for Rob to have a new deputy, given that the one in the third book (where we were never even told his name; here we learn that it’s Pedro) had to move to take care of his “ailing” parents. But the misunderstanding surrounding that hire would never have been allowed to occur in real life. Copeland doesn’t explain why Leslie needs the deputy job badly enough for that character’s desperate suggestion to seem realistic. Travel between Waterhole and neighboring Buford, Texas is initially shown to take nearly all day; but it can suddenly be accomplished in vastly fewer hours when the plot needs it to be. Given that all of the Hardin sisters are supposedly very savvy gunfighters, two of them make a ridiculously dumb tactical decision here, and Rob acts at one point with a really amateurish recklessness which even Barb, who’s more inclined to be lenient in judging these books than I am, considered out of character. And though I liked the basic gist of the ending, and though I consider myself an equalitarian feminist, another factor was my feeling that it’s irresponsible for a pregnant woman to insist on being in a physically dangerous situation if it isn’t absolutely necessary.

Ardent fans of Western romance, who like the genre enough not to be too critical, can enjoy this series. But I don’t recommend it to readers who want more accomplished and textured writing.

Author: Joi Copeland
Publisher: Lovely Christian Romance, available from Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Sheriff Bride: Dan’s Story, by Cheryl Williford

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

Despite the fact that all of the books of this series are written by different authors, they exhibit a lot of similarity in style, and also in literary quality. Since the quality tends to be wanting, that’s not a good thing. (My wife Barb really likes these books, which is why we read them together; and even I find the premise novel and intriguing. But it suffers from mediocre and even amateurish execution.) However, Williford has a bit smoother, less pronoun-averse and a trifle more textured prose style than her colleagues, and also a more realistic and less “vegetarian” approach to the realities of lethal force in law enforcement than the first two books displayed. There are situations that can arise where killing a determined aggressor is the only way to protect innocent lives; and she recognizes both the fact that a decent person doesn’t want to do that and may be severely torn up by the pain of doing it, and that neither the reluctance nor the pain change the moral necessity of doing it at times. In fairness to the author of the first book, Teresa Ives Lilly, her heroine realized this as well, but was able to make a decision to disable rather than kill in the particular case she had to confront. But circumstances may not always provide that option…

How much time has elapsed since the previous book isn’t explicitly stated at the outset; but there, the oldest Hardin sister Sam was newly pregnant and here she’s full term, so we can infer about nine months. Here, the focus is on the third-oldest of the quartet, Dan, who’s the sole viewpoint character – though, as always in the series, narration is in third person. Mutual attraction between her and circuit-riding preacher Joshua Plain was already established in the first book, so the romantic focus in this one is predictable, to the readers, the Waterhole townsfolk, and Dan’s sisters; she’s the only one with doubts about it, centering on whether or not her affection is returned, and on whether she’s cut out to be a preacher’s wife. The short length of the book keeps the angst over this from getting too repetitive and wearing.

There’s no single overall conflict here, so even with just 104 pages the plot has an episodic quality; attention passes from Dan’s venture of opening a café on the side, to allow scope for her cooking talents (Joshua, with 19th-century prejudice against women in business, is very opposed to the idea –though he’s had to admit that she and her sisters are very qualified peace officers!– and to her credit she sticks to the idea anyway), to Sam’s pregnancy and delivery, to the problem of a couple of newly-arrived underage saloon girls, and to the conflict with a tyrannical local rancher. And sometimes we shift back and forth among these. Williford doesn’t really develop the latter character enough to make his motives, and his drastic escalation of the conflict, really credible. On the other hand, the character of young Native American woman (and Christian convert) Morning Glory gets to shine here. Though I’m still not buying the secondary romantic thread provided for her! The role of prayer and Christian faith in God’s guidance in the main characters’ lives is treated positively, and I appreciated the point that combative fighting over Bible interpretation doesn’t please God. The Apostle Paul would agree!

There are a number of editorial issues here that simple proofreading and minimal attention to detail would have corrected, and that frequently took me out of the story. The rancher’s last name changes unaccountably from Dunner to Norton, and then to Newton, in different parts of the book, and sometimes between paragraphs. (Rolls eyes.) We’re told at one point that a circuit judge will arrive tomorrow; but that doesn’t happen, and a prisoner remains in jail with no realistic follow-up. Then near the end, a “district judge” from Dallas makes a quick appearance in response to a telegram. Dallas is in eastern, not western, Texas, and it’s not likely that Waterhole would have been in the same judicial district. We learn here that Morning Glory’s grandmother was of the Comanche tribe, kidnapped and raped by an Apache, among whose people Morning Glory and her mother were raised. But it was said in the second book that she was from Wisconsin, which is quite far north and east from the Apache homeland. There are several other clashing details, that show poor attention to the writing craft. Despite all of these issues, I do like the Hardin sisters as characters; I just regret that they weren’t blessed with more competent chroniclers!

Author: Cheryl Williford
Publisher: Lovely Christian Romance, available from Amazon, as a printed book or for Kindle.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Bandit Queen (1950)

  By

★★★
“Whip it good.”

There can’t be many Westerns of the fifties where the Yankees are the bad guys. Yet here we are. In mid-19th century California, to be precise, just after it became part of the US. The new owners enthusiastically threw the existing, Mexican inhabitants off their lands, in the search for gold, using harsh taxation as a weapon against them. And worse, if this is to be believed. For it begins with the callous murder of the Montalvo family, but the legalized thugs responsible don’t realize daughter Zara (Britton) has survived. She takes on two false identities out of necessity: white girl Lola Belmont for Detroit, but also Zara, masked, whip-wieldiing outlaw. As the latter, she seeks justice for her parents, and also “Robin Hoods” the stolen gold back to its rightful owners.

There’s another outlaw, Carlos del Rio, a.k.a. Joaquin Murietta (Reed), also operating along similar lines. But also complicating matters is the local tycoon for whom “Lola” falls, Dan Hinsdale (Parker). Because it turns out his wealth largely stems from being the acceptable face of these legalized thugs. When Murietta is captured, it’s Zara who has to break him out, and the pair them team up, both romantically and in their causes. Their predations have caused enough problems to merit the army getting called in, but there’s also a movement to repeal the tax laws at the heart of the land grabs: which will succeed in their goal first?

It’s obviously a feminine knock-off of Zorro, to the extent in Germany it was released as Zorro’s Daughter. Given the obviously Hispanic leanings, it’s a shame the players involved are so thoroughly and obviously non-Hispanic. The honourable exception is Garralaga as local priest Father Antonio, who for much of the film is the only person to know the truth about both Zara and Joaquin. I wouldn’t expect too much from the heroine here: riding a horse and cracking a whip is about the limit of the on-screen action. Though she is responsible for the (off-screen) deaths of those present when her parents were killed, and does shoot the big villain in the final showdown. If unconvincing as a Mexican, Britton has a righteous intensity about the situation that is effective, and held my interest throughout. 

She is certainly more interesting than Parker or Reed, who are blandly handsome in the way leading men of the time typically were. Making a bigger impression in the supporting cast is little person actor Angelo Rossitto, whose career spanned sixty years, including both cult classic Freaks and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Running barely over an hour long, this is probably a case where less is more: the narrative is generally slight, but good enough. I particularly enjoyed the heroine switching from Lola to Zara, then back again, in order to free Joaquin without causing suspicion. Despite the obviously low budget, this was not a chore to watch, and is as good as some of the other Zorro-related entries we’ve covered here, such as Zorro’s Black Whip.

Dir: William Berke
Star: Barbara Britton, Willard Parker, Phillip Reed, Martin Garralaga