Visiting Detectives & Guest Writers

Guest Writer, Tom Rizzo “Gunmen on Gunfighting”

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Kerrian’s Notebook has explored the world of guns and ammo in several articles, through the eyes of law enforcement officers, professionals in firearms training, as well recreational gunowners. Members of each of those groups have expressed clear opinions to me as to the serious nature of what happens when handguns and long guns are fired. So, when gun use is misrepresented on the small or large screens, lots of head-shaking occurs and outright laughter echoes across the county.

Tom Rizzo, specializing in Western fact and fiction during the 1800s, and occasional contributor to Kerrian’s Notebook, recently published an article featuring the viewpoints of famous gunfighters of the Old West. He graciously agreed to share that fascinating article with us.  

Gunmen on Gunfighting
– Accuracy is Final –

By Guest Writer Tom Rizzo

Most Old West gunmen—law keepers and lawbreakers—would agree that accuracy trumped speed in gunfighting.

WYATT EARP

Legendary lawman Wyatt Earp, who spent several decades on the American frontier, formed strong opinions and observations about gunfighting.

Earp emphasized accuracy over speed and favored a deliberate, slow shot in a high-stress, rapid situation.

_______

BAT MASTERSON

Bat Masterson, Earp’s close friend, developed his own precise ranking of survival skills. At the top of the list was mental focus, the ability to stay cool and make split-second decisions, especially while being shot at.

Masterson also prioritized deliberation, accuracy, and speed.

_______

WILD BILL HICKOK

Wild Bill Hickok’s advice centered on the psychological and mechanical reality of combat. He also emphasized accuracy, emphasizing that a rushed shot was a fatal mistake.

“Take your time,” advised Hickok. Rushing, he said, leads to missing, “which only gives your opponent more time to aim and kill you.”

Hickok also believed in being bold, decisive, and aggressive. He was also a master of knowing the effective range of his pistols, famously killing Dave Tutt from roughly 75 yards away—a distance most gunmen wouldn’t even attempt with a revolver. 

_______

JOHN WESLEY HARDIN

John Wesley Hardin, for the most part, led a more violent life than Earp, Masterson, and Hickock. He focused on preparation and technical advantages.

Above all, Hardin relied on accuracy. Witnesses often told of Hardin shooting others through the eye, in the head, or in the center of the body.

Hardin, like Hickok, also possessed an acute awareness of the range of pistol fire. Hardin preferred close-quarters gunfights to long-range exchanges.

          Hardin preferred carrying multiple weapons, including famously sewing holders into his vest with the butts pointing inward for a faster “cross-draw.”

_______

Legendary lawman Wyatt Earp mocked the image of two men standing in the middle of the street, a gun in each hand, held close to their hips, “both spitting smoke together.” He described it as nothing more than “the picture of a fool, or a fake.”  

He once told author Stuart N. Lake that those who saw themselves as “two-gun men” never fired both guns at the same time.

“Some men could shoot equally well with either hand and in a gunplay might alternate their fire; others exhausted the loads from the gun on the right or the left . . . then shifted the reserve weapon to the natural shooting hand . . . “

According to Earp, “such a move—the border shift—could be made faster than the eye could follow by a top-notch gun-thrower, but if the man were as good as that, the shift would seldom be required.”

Earp expressed contempt for the idea that anyone would attempt to bluff another person with a gun. “When a gunfighter reached for his forty-five, every faculty he owned was keyed to shooting as speedily and as accurately as possible, to making his first shot the last of the fight.

“He had to think of his gun solely as something with which to kill another before he himself could be killed.”

         He also spoke of notches on guns. “I never knew a man who amounted to anything to notch his gun with credits, as they were called, for men he had killed,” said Earp.

“Outlaws, gunmen of the wild crew who killed for the sake of brag, followed this custom. I have worked with most of the noted peace officers …  (who) have handled their weapons many times, but never knew any of them to carry a notched gun.”

(Wyatt Earp: Frontier Marshal) is available in paperback and as an audio program.)

         While some people celebrated the fast draw, real Old West gunmen relied on deception, superior firepower, and a cold calculation of odds. They chose weapons based on reliability and “stopping power,” and often abandoned the revolver when things got serious. 

A lawman’s weapon of choice, for the most part, was the shotgun, especially for close-range survival.

Others preferred the Winchester Model 1873, often referred to as The Gun that Won the West, because it often used the same .44-40 cartridges as a gunman’s revolver, simplifying ammunition needs.

Outlaw Jesse James favored the S&W Schofield. Its “top-break” design allowed a rider to eject all empty shells and reload much faster than a standard Colt. 

_______

The key to surviving the life of a gunman often depended on not taking unnecessary risks and avoiding face-to-face confrontations. Gunfights were terrifying. Fair fights were rare. A gunman’s goal was to “get the drop” on an opponent—a concept that resulted in something akin to murder or assassination rather than a duel.

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Many thanks for sharing, Tom!  🙂

“A passion for 19th century American history, Tom’s novels include elements of historical fact. His writing journey has taken him from radio and television news reporting to The Associated Press, where he worked as a correspondent, followed by several years in advertising and public relations.”

Please visit the informative and entertaining tomrizzo.com for more information about Tom, his work, and the Old West.

 

Order: “Last Stand at Bitter Creek”

 

 

 

 

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Visiting Detective Quinn Sterling “Murder in Craven County”

Our recent travels took us to the Low Country of the Carolinas – Craven County, South Carolina, to be exact. It’s common knowledge that Low Country seafood is straight up delicious, but we had not realized that pecans are a fairly big deal there as well.

 

We drove around a bit, exploring the area, and after one long stretch of fencing, passed a large gated entrance to a grove of pecan trees: STERLING BANKS. Sadly, it was closed to the public. Oh, well, no pecan grove tour or pecan store for us. But, dessert centered mind that I have, I now had a yen for pecan pie, or cobbler, or butter pecan ice cream. Sheila mentioned that she was suddenly hungry, so the search was on for a place to eat.

 

Do you like diners? Or pubs? Or bars? We definitely do. Turns out that Craven County is home to Jackson Hole, diner by day, and pub/bar by night. We pulled into the nearly full parking lot, always a good indication mid-week that the food is good. The waitress seated us near the back and we checked out the menu. The usual diner fare of meatloaf, burgers, fries, shakes, and …. Bingo! Pecan desserts of every kind I’d ever heard of and some I hadn’t. I grinned when the waitress returned to get our order. I tapped on the dessert section, then asked if the pecans came from the grove up the road.

 

“Yes, sir. Fresh as yesterday’s crop.” She smiled and turned a bit to point with her pencil at a woman seated a couple of booths away. “She’s the new owner of the farm. Quinn Sterling.”

 

This trip just got even more interesting. You know how Sheila and I keep running into detectives on the road? I couldn’t resist. “She doesn’t happen to be a detective, does she?” laughing as I said it.

 

Talk about jaws dropping. With hands on both hips, the waitress gaped and said, “How could you possibly know that?”

 

Both Sheila and I nearly sprayed her with the sweet tea we had been drinking. “Wild guess! Plus, I’m law enforcement – on medical leave – and I can usually spot people in my line of work.”

 

“Technically, she’s a P.I., but would you like to meet her? Sometimes she meets clients right in  that booth at night, but she’s only here for lunch today.”

 

The waitress went over to Sterling and they exchanged whispers and glances at us. Then the waitress passed along an invitation for us to join the pecan farm owner/P.I. We introduced ourselves and settled into the large leather covered booth, more than ready to hear her story.

 

“Quinn Sterling is a lanky, towering red-head, and heiress to Craven County’s 3,000-acre pecan enterprise, Sterling Banks . . . the last heir of the oldest family of the oldest county in the state of South Carolina . . . and a private investigator. She wouldn’t have been either if someone hadn’t murdered her father.

 

She never envisioned becoming a PI. As a teen, she and her childhood friend, Tyson, imagined working as deputies for her sheriff uncle, solving fictitious crime amongst the pecan groves, sometimes with burlap capes, sometimes with stick guns, using the nuts as bullets. Then for a year out of high school, they fulfilled their dreams by joining the sheriff’s office, with grand aspirations of keeping the county free of sordid characters. But her father, Graham, had bigger plans for his daughter, and pushed her to college where she held dual majors of business and criminal justice, the latter to spite him. When the FBI snatched her up, Quinn thought she’d gone to heaven.

 

Then came the call. Someone killed her father and almost killed Jule, the farm’s caretaker and mother-figure to Quinn. In the blur of funeral and the slow reality of inheriting the pecan enterprise, Quinn came face-to-face with a new reality. Her uncle admitted he couldn’t find the murderer, had no idea whom to suspect, and Quinn was suddenly running the farm. Unable to let loose of her father’s unsolved murder, Quinn left the Bureau to manage Sterling Banks, doing PI work on the side to scratch that itch.

 

Six years after Graham’s death, the murder remained a mystery, Quinn’s relationship with her uncle a raw sore. Then a fellow PI was found murdered in Craven County, and the daughter of a Charleston real estate mogul hired her to take his place hunting for her missing beau.

 

Nobody was who they appeared to be, but Craven is Quinn’s county, and with an inept uncle at the helm, Quinn felt the responsibility was hers to solve the case. But when the case crossed onto Sterling Banks, it sucked in both of her childhood friends, Deputy Tyson Jackson and Jules’ son Jonah Proveaux, the current pecan farm caretaker. Quinn drew deeply upon her legacy and her training, to dig into crimes current and past, sometimes capitalizing on her uncle and the financial, historical, and impressive power of the Sterling Banks name to discover why people had been Murdered in Craven.

In another case, Quinn learned just how toxic school board politics could be, when she was hired by a board member to deal with domestic issues, and dealings with the Board got nasty. An impromptu drop-in at a board meeting threw Quinn for a loop when she found Sterling Banks’ foreman, Jonah Proveaux, battling against them over land for an elementary school. Land of an 80-year-old neighbor that adjoined Quinn’s farm.

 

Politics quickly turned to greed, greed to arson, and arson to murder, with family pitted against family, neighbor against neighbor, as property Burned in Craven. When violence escalated against her and her own, Quinn decided she knew more than the law when it came to finding answers and making people pay, and she took actions accordingly. The county turned divisive over how much development was good development, and how much is plain crooked and deadly.”

 

Sheila and I sat riveted to our seats long after the last bite of pie and ice cream disappeared. What stories that woman could tell!

 

But, to find out who did what to whom and why, you’ll have to read the books.  😉

“Murdered in Craven” and “Burned in Craven” are out now and “Craven County Line” launched in October, 2025. Many thanks to Hope for visiting us and giving us a sneak peek into the series!
Order here.

 

    Order here.

 

 

Order here.

Hope Clark

The Carolina Slade Mysteries, Bell Bridge Books
The Edisto Island Mysteries, Bell Bridge Books www.chopeclark.com
-and-
Editor, FundsforWriters, www.fundsforwriters.com

Writer’s Digest 101 Best Websites for Writers

 


*All photos courtesy of C. Hope Clark

 

 

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Visiting Detective Ava Logan – “Crime in Appalachia”

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VisDetAvaSmokies

It’s no secret that Sheila and I like to take a week here and there and see the sights around this great country of ours. This past Fall, we took the scenic route through the Great Smoky Mountains (part of the Appalachian range) to see the North Carolina cousins. I know, really long way around from the New York area, but the weather was great and it was a “why not?” kind of week.

The scenery was breathtaking and we pulled over lots of times to take pictures and soak it all in. When we finally left the Smokies, we stopped at a little spot called Minnie’s Diner in Jackson Creek, North Carolina. The parking lot was packed, but that’s usually a good sign, and we looked forward to mouth-watering, down-home cooking.

As we waited for the waitress to lead us to the only open booth, another couple came in behind us. She grabbed two menus from the counter for us, and spoke to the couple in typical small-town fashion. “Sheriff. Ava. Y’all doing okay?”

I glanced at the guy—long sleeve black shirt, rugby-type, tucked into black utility pants, a round patch on the shirt front reading Jackson County Sheriff. Below that, a bar with G. Ridge inscribed.

“Doing good,” he answered the waitress for both of them. “Looks like it’s standing room only today.”

“The wait shouldn’t be too long.”

The waitress turned to lead me and Sheila to the booth, but I stopped and turned toward the couple. The badge meant he was okay with me. “Want to join us?” They looked surprised, but agreed right away.

We all slid into the booth – Ridge and Ava sitting across from us – and introduced ourselves. Ava and Ridge lived in the next town.

I’ll let Ava Logan tell their story.

*****

 “So let me get this straight,” Charlie said, wagging a finger between Ridge and me. “You’re the sheriff, and you’re the publisher of the town newspaper?”

“Yes,” we both answered.

Charlie nodded and asked, “Does it ever cause a problem?”

“Not at all.” I must have answered too quickly because Ridge jerked his head around to glare at me. “Maybe. Sometimes,” I conceded.

While Ridge and Charlie talked shop, Sheila and I chatted about their trip through the mountains. Born and raised in western North Carolina, I love hearing others’ take on my part of the Appalachians. I smiled and declared that the scenic beauty is matched only by the people who called these hills and hollows home.

 Highway-SmokiesIMG_3611

Although engaged in conversation with Sheila, I couldn’t help but overhear Charlie ask, “So how many residents are there in Jackson Creek?”

“4,327,” I answered. A hot blush crept up my cheeks as the Kerrians and Ridge looked at me like I always went around spouting random numbers. I mumbled a clarification, “Jackson Creek proper. I’m not sure about Jackson County.” Somewhere near the fifty-thousand range, but it was Ridge’s county. I thought he might want to answer.

The corner of Ridge’s mouth arched upward in a slight grin. He turned back to Charlie. “Fifty-three thousand. Jackson Creek is the county seat. I’m sure that’s a lot smaller than what you’re used to.”

Charlie answered with a smile, then turned to me. “Is there enough news in a town of four thousand to sustain a newspaper?”

“Oh, yeah. We do a lot of human interest features. And the occasional crime wave public service announcement.”

He and Sheila laughed. Ridge didn’t. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, a sign I knew all too well. We’d ridden this merry-go-round before. We rode it every day. The Jackson County Sheriff’s Department wasn’t large enough to hire a media liaison so as Sheriff, Ridge filled that role. He was quick to feed me information when he needed to get the word out, and got especially tight-lipped when he didn’t want the press involved.

To be fair, Ridge was a good sheriff. And the fact that extracting information from him was like pulling the proverbial teeth, probably made him an even better one. It did make my job more difficult, though. And, sometimes caused me to do a little detecting in search of the facts behind the crimes.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said, spitting the words out like I was in a hurry to defend him, or explain my earlier words. “We had a rash of car break-ins a few weeks ago and I was happy to put a warning out to residents. And we always have ginseng poaching that sometimes gets out-of-hand. And of course, the…occasional murder.”

 

VisDetAvaBloodyFootprint

I stared at the trail of condensation snaking its way down my water glass, remembering every detail of that recent murder, the scene stamped into my brain forever. The victim had been a good friend. It was hard to forget, no matter how many times I’d tried, when you were the one to find the body. I’d never in my life been more glad to have a conversation interrupted by a waitress delivering food.

“So, Charlie,” I said, diving into a chicken wrap. “How’d you like the Smokies?” 

“Wait!” He and Sheila chimed in together. Charlie laughed, “You can’t leave us hanging like that! What poaching? What murder? Tell me no lies!”

 

VisDetAvaGinseng

“The poaching was a big deal around here!” I launched into my tale, but left out a few details about the danger we were all in, knowing that Ridge was still not happy about how that had played out. Charlie shook his head. “That’s a case we’d never get in the city.” The waitress delivered some warm apple pie and Charlie nudged, “Tell us about the murder. Don’t leave anything out.”

I glanced at Ridge, not at all sure he wanted to talk about that case. Yup, he was scowling. I quickly changed the subject and we continued our lunch over more pleasant conversation, laughter, and a promise to keep in touch. I had no doubt we would.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lynn Chandler Willis created the newspaper owner Ava Logan character, based in no small part on her own experience in the news biz. “Tell Me No Lies,” the first in the series, debuted in February, 2017, and explained all about the ginseng poaching as well as the murder, and Ava Logan’s part in both.   🙂

 

 

 

Amazon link

 

 

“Tell Me No Secrets” and “Tell Me You Love Me” are available as well.
“Tell Me Where You Are” will be available in the Spring of 2026.

Take a look at www.lynnchandlerwillis.com for updates about the series and Ms. Willis’ other Award Winning work.

Ms. Willis’ Facebook Author Page

*Photo credits:

 Smokies, Ginseng, Footprint – Google

 Lynn Chandler Willis, Blue Ridge Highway – Patti Phillips

 

 

 

 

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