The first page of my western book.

[BikeWriter]

Jim Horn rode his horse down the trail at a steady pace. He and his horse, Chief, were both wearing several pounds more than their share of the dust of that long, hot trail from the border area of west Texas into San Antonio.
Anyone unfortunate enough to be out in the blistering heat watching him would have seen a sturdily built, sun browned man of slightly above average heighth. He fit the square-rigged stock saddle on his horse as if he were born to it as indeed he was. A brace of worn but clean .44-40 Colts in tied down holsters on his hips and a Winchester carbine of the same caliber in his saddle scabbard showed him to be a man not to be trifled with.
The weapon only a few unhappy and often short lived people got to see was a short-barreled Colt that usually rode in one of Jim's boots. At twenty-eight years of age, Jim considered himself to be not too ugly to look at, but most women rated his looks as very attractive despite his strong features. The women were particularly attracted to his gentle drawl, and as one love-stricken Austin girl had written poetically in her diary, "Mr. Horn has eyes as blue as the wide Texas sky!"
These same characteristics had often been thought of by the men who he made his living hunting down as a blood chilling voice and the stone cold eyes of a born killer! Jim's vocation of man hunting was strictly legal; the left side of his vest sagged under the weight of the gold star of a Texas Ranger. Jim was a veteran of five perilous years of Ranger duty.
Jim sat astride of one of the spectactularly spotted horses from a strain known as the appaloosa, which were bred by the Indians of the American northwest. He was personally of the opinion the horse was anything but pretty. As compared to the average Texas cow horse, this stallion was hammer headed, broom tailed, and cow hocked. His big striped hooves looked almost too big for his legs and Jim had never much cottoned to the wierdly intelligent, almost human look in his eyes. The stud also had the powerful shoulders and massively heavy neck that were then typical of the stallions of that sturdy breed.
What Jim did like about the big ugly horse was he had the ability to thrive at a traveling pace that would have killed most of those prettier average cow horses of Texas. He had an energy-conserving gait that seemed to carry him just far enough on each step to get ahead, but this mile eating pace had carried Jim and his gear almost three hundred miles down some of the roughest trails in west Texas in the last two weeks!
Jim was leading a lanky bay mule loaded down with his latest capture. Joe Three Horses, or Injun Joe as he was better known, was a half-breed Kiowa indian Jim had been sent after a couple of weeks before.
Injun Joe was a character who was notorious around some parts of Texas, not only as an accomplished horse thief but also for his many slick escapes from justice. The officials in San Antonio had finally persuaded the reluctant Ranger Captain to put his best man on Joe’s trail. Joe was presently shackled belly-down in chains across the mule's narrow back as punishment for his latest unsuccessful escape attempt.
It had taken Jim four long days of tracking the Indian's faint trail just to locate Joe the first time, then it took him another three days to run him to ground. The indian had been so good at evading capture the Ranger had to resort to relying on all of his senses, even his sense of smell, to track him!
Joe had been working hard at a job of breaking horses on a ranch outside of Uvalde when he had literally seen Jim coming. He’d forced his green broken horse right through the thin mesquite rails of the corral fence and lit a shuck under him! He’d ridden that horse into the ground the first day out of Uvalde then he’d stolen another one from a nearby ranch.
The injun’s second stolen horse had given out on the evening of the next day and Injun Joe had then fled on foot. Jim had finally caught up with him on the third day of the long chase. He’d bought the mule from a ranch in the vicinity to pack the injun in on.
The saddle-worn Ranger had been leading the mule back toward San Antonio for the last four days; Joe's latest futile escape attempt had been made only the night before. "Hey, Joe!" Jim hollered back to his prisoner, "I've been studying on somethin’ ever since before I caught up with you! You crossed several ranches on foot after that last horse gave plumb out underneath you, why didn't you go and steal yourself another one?"
"Kill too many good horses already!" Joe grunted as the mule bounced unmercifully. "When Joe escape next time maybe Ranger Jim sell Joe good horse with spots?"
"Hell no, Joe!" Jim laughed! "If you’d been riding old Chief, I'd still be chasing you all over Texas!" Jim thought that, horse thief or not, you had to respect the indian for taking his chances on foot rather than risk killing more stolen horses in a chase! He called back to him, "Joe, any man who would sooner give up his freedom than to hurt more horses can't be all bad! If you'll give me your word you won't try gettin' away again, I'll set you right back up on that mule."
"No can do! Not yet, maybe later." The injun replied resolutely. Jim laughed in appreciation of the indian's wild spirit and warped sense of honor, then he shrugged and went back to his day dreaming about the cool beer from the spring house of the Eldorado, his favorite saloon in San Antonio.
The thought of that cold beer then led Jim to thinking about the pretty, brown eyed, auburn haired Louisiana woman who owned the Eldorado.

[BikeWriter]

1. Here's another excerpt from later in the book you might like, too.

Jim's mind was in turmoil at the moment, but his belly still needed some food. He knew he’d lost considerable weight during the pursuit of the last two weeks and right now his stomach must be thinking his throat had been cut. He reflected that a steady diet of tortillas and beans, eaten on the run, would probably lean down most anyone.
Jim remembered there was a small cafe just down the street and he was making a beeline for it when his attention was drawn to angry shouts coming from the sidewalk ahead. He recognized the man coming toward him on foot as Mayor Dixon. The mayor was a middle-aged man who Jim had usually seen impeccably dressed in a nice store bought suit. At the moment though, he had his nightgown half stuffed into his pants and his suspenders were flopping around his legs.
"My mare's gone; I've been robbed!" Mayor Dixon yelled to him. Jim winced; he’d obviously been recognized.
"Let's go check on Sheriff Tilley." Jim told the Mayor. Mayor Dixon fell right in behind Jim as he headed for the Sheriff's office. Jim quickly tied his horse to the rail out front and stormed through the front door of the office. He already had a pretty good idea of what they were likely to find there. He called out. "Sheriff Tilley! Are you here?"
"Back here!" A hoarse voice urgently answered him. Jim went back into the prisoner area and he saw the Sheriff and his Deputy locked up together in a cell. "That damned injun had the drop on Roscoe when I got back here last night! We've been yelling our fool heads off ever since."
"There's a spare key on top of that gun rack out there in the office." The Deputy told Jim. Jim went and quickly found the key and returned to unlock the cell.
Jim was concentrating on keeping a tight rein on his sense of humor, but the Mayor was anything but amused; he was fuming. "So this's where our fearless law officers were while my own horse was being stolen!"
The Sheriff's embarassed look changed to one of fury. "That had to be that danged Injun Joe who stole your horse." Sheriff Tilley complained. "He's the one who locked us up."
Mayor Dixon turned on Jim; he put both of his hands on his hips and spoke beligerently. "I thought your Captain assured me you were the one man in Texas who could catch Injun Joe!"
"He was dead right, Your Honor. It took me two weeks of rough riding to bring him in, but I delivered him right here to this office in chains last night. I woke up your Deputy and turned the injun over to him. Ask Sheriff Tilley yourself, he was over visiting Miss Vickie in her rooms at the saloon when I found him and told him all about it."
Jim thought those innocent little clues about the Sheriff and Deputy ought to be plenty of bait to lure the Mayor off of his own trail. The Sheriff evidently thought so too, he desperately started trying to brush over his own tracks as the Mayor turned quickly back to him. "It's all Roscoe's fault, Mayor. He’s the one who let that blasted redskin get the drop on him!"
"And just who in the devil was it who insisted I hire Roscoe?" Mayor Dixon fumed. "If my mare isn't back in my barn tonight, I'll be looking to hire me another sheriff and deputy! Ranger Horn, you caught that horse thief once, where do you reckon they should begin hunting for him this time?"
They had moved back into the office as they talked. Jim looked over at the big Texas map hanging on the wall behind the Sheriff's desk. He walked over and stood in front of it as he thought out loud.
"Mayor, if I had to put my finger on Injun Joe and your good spotted mare right now I'd figure they've been movin' fast since almost two hours before midnight last night." He stabbed a finger at a point on the map. "I'd say that injun and your spotted mare are enjoying a big bait of breakfast somewhere just this side of Austin right now!"
"What?" The Mayor shouted scornfully. "That's impossible!" Jim would later describe Mayor Dixon's expression as being blown up like a drowned horned toad.
"Alright, Sir." Jim returned a little stiffly. "You asked me where I reckoned he was and I told you. As far as I've heard no other lawman has ever even come close to catching him. Last night I asked him personal' to get out of Texas when he escaped and I think he took it to heart and he's high tailin' it up north." Jim walked toward the front door.
"Where do you think you're going, Horn?" The Mayor asked.
"I'm going to hunt me up some breakfast. Unlike you city folks, it’s been weeks since I had a good meal. I aim to keep a real close eye on that spotted stud, too, just in case I'm wrong about where that injun is."
"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard, Horn." The Mayor blustered. "Even that crazy injun wouldn't steal a Texas Ranger’s horse in broad daylight on the main street of San Antonio!"
"You may be right." Jim said as he grinned broadly. "Then again, Mayor Dixon, I know where my horse is and you don't!" Jim left the Mayor spluttering; for once Jim had seen the man speechless.

[petgoat]

2. Have you finished the book? nt

[BikeWriter]

3. Not as yet. It should really be longer.

[petgoat]

4. If you're not finished yet, it's a good start. You've got strong

characters, a good eye for detail, good conflicts right from the start.

I think you should put some thought into your characters' names though.
A pair like Joe and Jim can be easily confused, as can Alice and Anita,
Carla and Caroline, Roger and Richard.

[BikeWriter]

6. Thank you, PardI I appreciate the kind words, and...

I will give more thought to the names. :-)

[Orrex]

10. A few more thoughts

Jim's mind was in turmoil at the moment, but his belly still needed some food. He knew he’d lost considerable weight during the pursuit of the last two weeks and right now his stomach must be thinking his throat had been cut. He reflected that a steady diet of tortillas and beans, eaten on the run, would probably lean down most anyone.

"Mind was in turmoil" is a lifeless description. Also, unless Jim's been sick and/or eating nothing at all, it seems odd that he'd have lost "considerable weight," especially if he's had a "steady diet." Also, "considerable weight" is another off-tone phrase that seems out of place in the narrative. I'm not thrilled with "stomach must be thinking his throat had been cut" because it's a conspicuous and artificial-sounding folkism. It seems more likely to me that Jim would reflect on his general weakness or fatigue, having eaten nothing but beans and tortillas. To have Jim speculate on the weight he's lost makes him seem as though he's curiously weight-conscious. And if he's a veteran Texas Ranger, I think he'd be accustomed to hard life on the trail. Better to have him think of it in physical terms, perhaps addressing the fatigue resulting from eating on the run for two weeks.

Jim remembered there was a small cafe just down the street and he was making a beeline for it when his attention was drawn to angry shouts coming from the sidewalk ahead. He recognized the man coming toward him on foot as Mayor Dixon. The mayor was a middle-aged man who Jim had usually seen impeccably dressed in a nice store bought suit. At the moment though, he had his nightgown half stuffed into his pants and his suspenders were flopping around his legs.

Rather than "remembered there was a small café down the street," I'd suggest "remembered a café down the street." After all, a large café is basically a restaurant, so "small café" seems wordy and redundant. "Made a beeline" reads like another Wild West cliché, by the way.

The phase "his attention was drawn to angry shouts" is passive voice, lessening the action. Currently, there's no indication of whether the shouts are connected to Dixon or not, either.

"My mare's gone; I've been robbed!" Mayor Dixon yelled to him. Jim winced; he’d obviously been recognized.

The first thought on reading this is that Jim fears that he'll be implicated in the theft of the mare. Also, get rid of "obviously," because if it's "obvious," you don't need to say it.

Consider this, instead:

Jim was heading for the café when Mayor Dixon caught up with him. His nightshirt was half stuffed into his trousers, and his suspenders flapped at his thighs.

"I've been robbed," the Mayor cried. "My mare's gone!"

You still get all the relevant detail in a more compact format, preserving the flow of action without really sacrificing anything. You don't need to specify the Mayor's typical mode of dress, because it benefits nothing, and his behavior now makes it clear that something is wrong.

"Let's go check on Sheriff Tilley." Jim told the Mayor. Mayor Dixon fell right in behind Jim as he headed for the Sheriff's office. Jim quickly tied his horse to the rail out front and stormed through the front door of the office. He already had a pretty good idea of what they were likely to find there. He called out. "Sheriff Tilley! Are you here?"

I have the sense that Jim would know the Sheriff's name, as would Mayor Dixon, so they'd likely refer to him as "Bill" or "Emett" or "Clarence" or whatever. Also, if Jim was previously "making a beeline" for the café, it seems weird that you didn't mention his horse at that time. Either mention the horse earlier in the scene, or don't mention him here—you'd have to explain the sudden appearance. Additionally, why would Jim, who we infer to be tired and hungry, "storm" into the Sheriff's office? Is Jim angry at him? Also, "Are you here" is kind of flat. If Jim calls out to the Sheriff—preferably by name—then that's sufficient lead-in for the Sheriff's answering line.

"Back here!" A hoarse voice urgently answered him.

If you use "are you here" and "back here" in consecutive sentences, you get an echo that doesn't really help the narrative. Also, unless "hoarse voice" is meant as a pun in this western tale, I'd pick a different adjective. Better yet, drop the adjective and use a different verb.

Jim went back into the prisoner area and he saw the Sheriff and his Deputy locked up together in a cell.

"Jim went back" is a sleepy turn of phrase—pick a more dynamic verb. Also, you have yet another echo with "are you here/back here/went back." Rather than "prisoner area," maybe "holding cells," and you could then simply say that the Sheriff and the Deputy were locked up together.

"That damned injun had the drop on Roscoe when I got back here last night! We've been yelling our fool heads off ever since."

Drop the second sentence—would no one have heard them in all that time? It seems unlikely. Also, you should rename the Deputy, unless you're deliberately alluding to The Dukes of Hazzard.

"There's a spare key on top of that gun rack out there in the office." The Deputy told Jim. Jim went and quickly found the key and returned to unlock the cell.

I'd suggest something like this:

Jim inspected the lock. "Where's the spare?"

"On top of the gun rack," said the Deputy.

Jim returned with the key and unlocked the cell.

This accomplishes the same thing, keeps the pace moving, and makes the Deputy's line read more smoothly. Also, it shows that Jim's familiar with the layout of the office.

Jim was concentrating on keeping a tight rein on his sense of humor, but the Mayor was anything but amused; he was fuming. "So this's where our fearless law officers were while my own horse was being stolen!"

Would Jim find it amusing that the subject of his two-week chase had escaped so easily? I doubt it. And the Mayor's line seems like Standard Pompous Reaction #113.

The Sheriff's embarassed look changed to one of fury. "That had to be that danged Injun Joe who stole your horse." Sheriff Tilley complained. "He's the one who locked us up."

This is close to a verbatim repeat of the Sheriff's earlier line.

Mayor Dixon turned on Jim; he put both of his hands on his hips and spoke beligerently.

Remove this line.

"I thought your Captain assured me you were the one man in Texas who could catch Injun Joe!"
"He was dead right, Your Honor. It took me two weeks of rough riding to bring him in, but I delivered him right here to this office in chains last night. I woke up your Deputy and turned the injun over to him. Ask Sheriff Tilley yourself, he was over visiting Miss Vickie in her rooms at the saloon when I found him and told him all about it."

Too wordy. Any why would Jim move so quickly to sell out the Sheriff? This implies that there's a history of antagonism between them—is that what you want?

Consider:

"Your Captain assured me that you would catch your quarry," grated the Mayor.

"I caught him," Jim said flatly. "And I brought him here."

We know about the chains and we know about the two-weeks' rough ride, so don't repeat that information here.

Jim thought those innocent little clues about the Sheriff and Deputy ought to be plenty of bait to lure the Mayor off of his own trail.

Remove this line—it's already obvious to the reader, so there's no reason to underscore it.

The Sheriff evidently thought so too, he desperately started trying to brush over his own tracks as the Mayor turned quickly back to him. "It's all Roscoe's fault, Mayor. He’s the one who let that blasted redskin get the drop on him!"

Does no one in this town admit his mistakes? Also, that's twice that the Sheriff has said that Injun Joe got "the drop on" someone—the repetition is discordant.

"And just who in the devil was it who insisted I hire Roscoe?" Mayor Dixon fumed. "If my mare isn't back in my barn tonight, I'll be looking to hire me another sheriff and deputy!

You're better off without the Mayor's first line here—go right into "If my mare isn't in my stable by nightfall, I'll hire a new Sheriff by morning."

Ranger Horn, you caught that horse thief once, where do you reckon they should begin hunting for him this time?"
They had moved back into the office as they talked. Jim looked over at the big Texas map hanging on the wall behind the Sheriff's desk. He walked over and stood in front of it as he thought out loud.
"Mayor, if I had to put my finger on Injun Joe and your good spotted mare right now I'd figure they've been movin' fast since almost two hours before midnight last night." He stabbed a finger at a point on the map. "I'd say that injun and your spotted mare are enjoying a big bait of breakfast somewhere just this side of Austin right now!"

"Where do you reckon he's heading?" asked the Mayor.

Jim examined the map of Texas hanging behind the Sheriff's desk. Eventually he stabbed a finger near the center of the map.

"Austin," he said. "Probably having breakfast right now."

"What?" The Mayor shouted scornfully. "That's impossible!" Jim would later describe Mayor Dixon's expression as being blown up like a drowned horned toad.
"Alright, Sir." Jim returned a little stiffly. "You asked me where I reckoned he was and I told you. As far as I've heard no other lawman has ever even come close to catching him. Last night I asked him personal' to get out of Texas when he escaped and I think he took it to heart and he's high tailin' it up north." Jim walked toward the front door.

This strains the reader's credibility. Austin's pretty close to the middle of Texas, so unless Joe needs to take I-35 for some reason, there's no way he'd head for Austin if he's trying to get out of the state. It's more likely that he'd head south into Mexico. As a result, the whole paragraph kind of falls apart.

"Where do you think you're going, Horn?" The Mayor asked.
"I'm going to hunt me up some breakfast. Unlike you city folks, it’s been weeks since I had a good meal. I aim to keep a real close eye on that spotted stud, too, just in case I'm wrong about where that injun is."

The reference to "weeks without a meal" is a repetition of the opening lines of the scene.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard, Horn." The Mayor blustered. "Even that crazy injun wouldn't steal a Texas Ranger’s horse in broad daylight on the main street of San Antonio!"
"You may be right." Jim said as he grinned broadly. "Then again, Mayor Dixon, I know where my horse is and you don't!" Jim left the Mayor spluttering; for once Jim had seen the man speechless.

This is a pretty strong exchange, and it's a good place to end the chapter/scene/vignette/excerpt, but you could still tighten it up quite a bit. Consider something like:
"Are you crazy?" gasped the Mayor. "He wouldn't steal a Ranger's horse. Not in broad daylight, and not in the middle of town."

"You may be right," said Jim. "But I know where my horse is. Can you say the same?"

On the whole, the greatest challenge facing you at the moment is the structure. It doesn't quite seem as though you've decided on the tone of your story, and much of the writing comes across as unintentionally campy or satirical. The dialogue really needs attention—it doesn't flow naturally, and I have trouble believing that any of the characters would say the things currently come out of their mouths.

Still, let me repeat that you shouldn't be discouraged. It's clear that you have a story to tell, and you've already got a good sketch of your story in the works. My underlying suggestion is that you become very conscious of the way your text comes across to the reader. Without obsessing about every syllable, you need to be aware of awkward turns of phrase, unintended puns, echo-phrases, and anything that seems false or unreal. It's fine to include discordant elements in your writing, as long as you're aware of their effect and write with that effect in mind.

Thanks again for sharing your work, and best of luck in your continued revisions!

As before, you are welcome to use or discard my suggestions as you wish.

[Orrex]

5. So far it's a character sketch

But it needs considerable work, IMO.

The first problem is that, for a book's opener, there's far too much flat exposition. I don't need it to start right in the middle of an ongoing firefight, but if page one is just a big infodump, then I don’t care what’s on page two.

Paragraph one has some good introductory information, but the wording could be tightened considerably. For example, everyone in the world knows basically where San Antonio is, especially if they’re reading a western, so you don’t need to say “Texas” here—it only clutters the pace of the text.

Paragraphs two through five are pure exposition.

Paragraph six contains useful information pertaining directly to the action at hand, namely their journey over the long trail, but the writing is unwieldy and off-tone. “Prettier average cows” is an awkward mouthful with no real payoff. “Energy-conserving gait” sounds sterile and entirely artificial. “Mile eating pace” is another clunker, especially because you repeat “miles” later in the sentence.

Paragraph seven gives us the very first bit of interesting info, and you practically hide it from the reader! Instead of spending six paragraphs on back-story, why not lead with the fact that Jim is carrying a prisoner?

You then lapse back into flat exposition for paragraphs eight through twelve. A simple recounting of Joe’s crimes and Jim’s tracking is perhaps the least engaging way to give the reader this information. Rather than issuing a brief summary of what happened, might you play out the tracking and capture? Honestly, that would be much more exciting than an infodump while Jim’s riding the dusty trail.

Jim’s first spoken line is packed with back-story clearly meant to inform the reader, and the effect is simply to muddy the dialogue. The entire exchange is your first real opportunity to reveal the characters, but it misfires because you’re trying to pack in too much tangential information.

Several of Jim’s lines are a direct reflection of his thoughts in the line immediately before or after. This is redundant and also self-defeating, because both lines are stripped of whatever impact they might have had. Either express his thought effectively in dialogue or through narration, but not both.

I’m concerned that after close to twenty paragraphs we’ve received very little useful for interesting information, and what we have received is deadened by the weight of extraneous information. If you intend this to develop to a novel-length story, you really need to consider your pacing. When you burden your reader with too much lifeless exposition in the opening pages, the reader almost certainly won’t bother with the whole story.

Consider this distillation of what you’ve presented so far:

Jim Horn and his horse wore the dust of three hundred miles as the rode the trail west of San Antonio. The early sun glinted off the twin Colts at his belt and from the gold badge over his heart. Behind him clopped a tired and lanky mule, with Injun Joe chained on his belly across its saddle.

“Why didn’t you steal another horse?” Jim asked.

“How about yours?” grunted Joe.

Laughing, Jim patted the horse’s neck. “Can’t let you have Chief, but if you’re done escaping, I’ll set you up right on that mule.”

“All I need’s a head start,” Joe rasped.

Jim shook his head. “There’s cold beer at the El Dorado, but they won’t serve you if you’re strapped down.”

Granted, my reworking is hardly perfect, but it gives all of the essential information and doesn’t kill the story before it’s begun. If you feel that all of that expository detail is vital, then by all means keep it, but be careful to dispense it a little at a time. Otherwise, you’re not writing a novel as much as you’re writing a wordy summary of an overview of a novel.

A few other notes: Petgoat pointed out correctly that you need to have greater variety in your characters’ names. I would also suggest that you re-christen Jim’s horse, because every time he refers to it by name, it sounds like he’s spitting out a slur (i.e., calling Native Americans “chief” can be considered derogatory).

Also, you’ve absolutely packed your story with clichés: the Ruggedly Handsome protagonist who uses Hollywood-approved Cowboyisms (plumb, studyin’ on, etc.); the Intelligent-Horse-Sidekick; the Native American Horsethief with me-speakum-English dialogue; a bar named El Dorado, complete with brown-eyed, auburn haired beauty (one can’t help thinking of Felina at Rosa’s Cantina). One or two of these clichés used carefully might be effective, but in combination they seem like deliberate farce. If that’s not your intention, you should really rethink your setting.

Also, when the heck does this take place? It could arguably be anywhere from 1870 through 2006, and if the reader decides for himself that it's the nineteenth century, it's going to seem weird when Jim answers his cellphone.

But don’t be discouraged! You’ve clearly thought a lot about these characters and have a great wish to tell their story. You just need to be conscious of how you tell it. What you have so far is a sketch of the characters and the setting--the next step is to use what you've created and write the characters' story!

You are, of course, totally free to use or discard my suggestions as you see fit.

[BikeWriter]

7. I will put your critique in my document file and consider it...

You've put a lot of thought into it and I appreciate it. :-)

[Orrex]

8. I hope that it's helpful

After all, you went to the trouble of writing it and submitting it for feedback--the least that a thoughtful reader can do is give it a thorough review!

Best of luck on your revisions!

:hi:

[BikeWriter]

9. Thank you, I've been editing the three books for about seven years now.

:)

[petgoat]

11. Long-time editing shows serious intent.

Have you prepared your pitch letters and your synopses for the agents?

I find those help bring "big picture" focus to the work.

[TallahasseeGrannie]

12. I'm going to just put down a few disjointed thoughts as I read

hope that is ok.

First, I am assuming you don't want any grammar advice yet. There are some structural issues with some phrases I'd LOVE to turn around!

I'd rethink using exclamation points in narrative. I think they work in conversation.

Find another word than 'attractive' to describe him. Ladies would have used a word less formal. Not sure what the slang was in the wild west for a hot guy, but you get my point?

Injun Joe is a famous character in Mark Twain books..you might want another name. Joe and Jim are too similar visually. I found myself confused as to which was which.

"you crossed several ranches on foot" is too formal for casual conversation with a crook. Maybe some slang like "you high-tailed it...." etc?

tg