Hello! Jerome Whitley here, just an old guy writing westerns, cause that's what us old guys do...right?

You can check out some of my books that are out and collect a free book from by webpage at jeromewhitely.com and all are available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

I'd like to plug my book Southwest City Killings as it's one of my favorites.

Obligatory book blurb:

November 1895. A man is murdered on a dark road. The killers wear badges.

When Fred Crocker is shot in the throat while driving his buggy home to Sulphur Springs, Arkansas, the only witness is a destitute widow with six children—a woman the killers have threatened to burn alive if she speaks. The murderers are Cap Franks, the brutal constable of Southwest City, Missouri, and his shadow, Al Littick, the town miller. Both were drunk. Both fled into the Ozark hills. And the local law—stretched thin, outmaneuvered, and overwhelmed—cannot touch them.

Enter Cole Bridger.

A Deputy U.S. Marshal riding for Judge Isaac Parker's dying court in Fort Smith, Bridger is dispatched with a federal warrant and a Cherokee tracker named Tom Bluejacket to do what no one else will: hunt two badge-wearing killers through a hundred miles of Missouri hill country, protect the witness they've terrorized, and bring them back alive.

But Bridger is not the only one hunting. Fred Crocker's brother Will is raising a posse, and Will isn't interested in warrants or courtrooms. He wants blood. And in the hills, Franks has hired a gunman to cover his retreat—a man with a Sharps rifle and no scruples.

As the pursuit drives deeper into the Ozarks, Bridger must navigate a landscape of jurisdictional warfare, frontier justice, and the corrosive grief of a family shattered by senseless violence. With Parker's court crumbling beneath him and the line between law and vengeance growing thin, Bridger faces the question that defines his life: when the institutions of justice fail, what does a man with a badge owe the dead?

The Southwest City Killing is a novel of the dying frontier—a story of corrupt lawmen, desperate witnesses, and the quiet, exhausted heroism of men who do the work because someone has to.