Joe R. Lansdale - Blood Dance

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In memory of my father,
Bud Lansdale,
and with thanks to my friends,
Jeff Banks and Greg Tobin

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Blood Dance was written in the early eighties, accepted by editor Greg Tobin for Ace books, in, I think, 83 or 84. I thought it was a pretty good conventional Western. It has humor, a fast pace, action, mystery, and even a bit of the fantastic; at least the fantastic is hinted at in one scene involving the Sun Dance.

I wasnt a fan of Western novels growing up, but I was a fan of Western movies, and I liked Western history and stories about the West as told to me by my daddy. My ventures into reading Western books and stories, however, had borne little fruit. I had enjoyed some of the Max Brand books I had read, and a number of short stories by Twain and Bret Harte had been interesting, but I wasnt hooked.

My father, who could not read or write, began to make an effort to learn to read, and though it could never be said he became a literate man, he did gradually manage enough knowledge to read the newspaper and ponder over a comic book; in his later days, even a Western paperback.

It must have been a great chore for him, as I remember seeing him mouth the words as he read, but once he began to get a bit of the knack, he stayed with it. I doubt he read more than a dozen paperbacks in his lifetime, and then probably had hito guess at a lot of it. He would ask me a word now and then, but I know it hurt his pride. Strangely, however, he enjoyed what little reading he was able to do, and, consequently, he started picking up cheap paperbacks.

Most went unread, but they ended up at his garage or on a shelf at home, and one day I picked up one called Slip Hammer by Brian Garfield. This was probably the first true Adult Western. Later, there would be a long period in time where the Adult Western was the most popular Western being written, but this was years ahead of its time.

And when I say the first Adult Western, I dont mean the first thinking persons Western, as that had existed for a long time. I mean a Western labeled Adult for its graphic sex content.

Sure, there had been books with Western backgrounds and sex in them before, but they were underground, and really were nothing more than sleazy screw books gussied up with hats and horses and a little shooting, and they were generally poorly and quickly written for the sex market.

(NOTE: When Adult Westerns became standard fare for the stands later on, they mostly werent as good as Garfields book, and, with a handful of exceptions, were only a little better than the old gussied up screw books.)

Slip Hammer was well researched, well written with excellent character development. And though the sex was entirely comfortable within the novel, it was interesting, and, ahem, hot.

The villains of the book were uncharacteristically Wyatt Earp and his brothers. I had never read anything like it. Sure, lots of books have made Wyatt Earp a villain since, but at the time I hadnt encountered this. And it was based on historical evidence, though based on the same evidence, conclusions about the Earps are still open to interpretation.

Although Garfield didnt dodge sex in his books from then on, I dont know that he ever wrote one like this again. This was an experiment, and once he had done it, he moved on.

As a side note, Garfield later became famous for his novel Death Wish, which was made even more famous by the film, which, by the way, Garfield hated.

Okay, that said, this has nothing do to with my Western, which is not a sex Western. What it has to do with is the fact that I began to read Westerns. Even those without the sex. I went back and read the classics, like The Ox-Bow Incident, Shane, and so on and so on.

By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I was pretty well read in both classic Western novels and popular ones, and by the time I was in my late twenties and early thirties, I was ready to write one.

My first was Dead in the West, a horror Western. My second, Texas Night Riders, was a pure dee ole fashioned pulpy shoot-em-up written under the name Ray Slater. By the time I wrote Blood Dance I was a decent enough writer, thought the book was pretty damn good, and was proud to put my name on it.

Ace gave me a contract, paid me, but the only problem was Ace was sold to Berkeley Books, and the entire Western line was canceled.

I then placed it again at Silver Saddle, which was supposed to be an arm of Black Lizard, but the house folded before ,

I couldnt face it. I collaborated by letting my friend Jeff Banks revise it. By the time we were finished, Golden Apple was gone.

I threw it in a drawer and forgot about it. Later, I rediscovered it, packed it off to the library that keeps my manuscripts. Bill Schafer wanted a look at it. He contacted the library, read it, liked it, and here it is in its original first person form.

I also like this. Its no Western classic, but it is fun. I wouldnt mind seeing it picked up in paperback. Mostly, I just hope you enjoy it.

Joe R. Lansdale (his ownself)

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Watching from the hills we could see the Northern Pacific coming into view, chugging rhythmically, coughing black smoke up to the clouds. It wound in amongst the trees and out of sight, but not sound.

It was a lovely day in the Dakota Territory, and I guess it was just as good a day as any for robbing a train. But truth to tell, my heart wasnt in it.

Bob Bucklaw, my partner, said, Getting close to time. Reckon we ought to saddle up.

We had spent the night on the rise waiting for just this moment, but now that it had arrived I felt myself stalling. Another five minutes, I said. It wont be solid below us for awhile yet.

Bucklaw was already tightening the cinch on his saddle. You know how Carson is. One minute late and there will be hell to pay.

Since when do we care? I said, but I began saddling my horse in spite of what I had said.

Since hes paying us four thousand dollars in gold, thats when.

Maybe I dont cotton much to train robbing.

Yeah, and maybe you dont cotton much to eating, either.

Im thinking about riding out of this. Let the boys down there do the train robbing. I think Ill just go look for me a real job.

Bucklaw smiled at me.

Doing what, Jim?

I dont know.

Punching cows? Herding sheep? Hunting men? You call those real jobs. Not me.

This sure isnt a real job. Lets not do it.

Bucklaw put his foot in the stirrup. Sorry, Jim. After the war they didnt leave nothing for us Johnny Rebs. Weve got to take what we want, just like the James Brothers or the Youngers.

Cant say I think all that much of Dingus and his boys.

Bucklaw swung into the saddle. Im going down there, he said. I hired on to back Carsons play, thats what Im going to do.

You dont owe that scum anything. Besides, were outsiders; we havent got a price on our heads. Yet.

You coming?

I sighed. Hell, why not? I climbed on my horse. Im saying now that I dont like this none. Not even a little bit.

All right, youve said it. Just this one time, Jim. Then well quit. Four thousand apiece can give two men a hell of a life somewhere. Texas, maybe.

I reckon.

You know Lets go.

We started down the rise, the train smoke rising upwards to meet us. I took my watch from my coat pocket and looked at it. We were a minute behind Carsons schedule.

Down below came the sound of gunfire and shouting men. Spurring our horses, we went down to meet them, rifles in hand.