No way in hell can a boy survive with his legs shot out from under him. Harsh realities dictate that the weak perish while the strong survive, and there’s no compassion for those who cannot fend for themselves.
Life without your legs is a sure sign that you’ll die ... unless you’re born with a lot of heart and a will to live long enough to serve your own kind of justice.
Randy learns to get along perfectly with his powerful arms and shoulders, and a pair of stubs ending just above his knees. But a set of wooden legs designed for him by Father Jeremy, a priest in need of saving, become weapons no outlaw can outshoot.
— A “Reader’s Choice” selection from Writers of the West
The period between 1850 and 1900-ish is when most Westerns are set. There are some distinct aspects to the genre, such as cowboys, denim, Colt .45s, ropes, stampedes, rustlers, Indians (usually named by tribe and not a generic reference as city folk back east might use in their newspapers because they don't know any better), and frontiers. There is normally a good guy and a bad guy, and a woman in between them. That's the surface of a Western -- and many of them stay right there on the surface and tell some fairly good tales of action and adventure.
Then you have the Westerns that delve down into what a Western is at its heart -- law, lawlessness, and raw ambiguity. This shouldn't be mistaken for ambivalence which has the feeling of not caring one way or the other. The characters all care about this dichotomy -- though some care more than others.
The question of the Western is justice, what it is, and what it means when there is none for miles and miles -- just you and them, out in the open, both wanting to live through the night -- all the time knowing that one of you won’t be waking up in the morning. There is the temptation to believe that the good man will prevail, but you're pretty sure that this open land doesn't truly understand things like good and evil. In fact, you've likely learned long before this encounter that nature is vicious and wants you both dead.
By this time the hero of a Western has ridden into towns where the Sheriff was more apt to rob you than anyone else. He's seen settlers ride their wagons straight through burial grounds with the pompous arrogance and superiority only deep ignorance can achieve, then cry to God about the savagery of those who defended their ancestors.
He likely doesn't know the word Atrocity, but he ponders the meaning of it by the campfire most nights. He might be jaded by this time, or he might just be in serious doubt. Whether jaded or driven by doubt he's narrowed the field of the questions down from people, to tribe or town, all the way down to the person on the saddle, in his seeking for answers of justice, good, evil, right and wrong. He's down to the man.
At this point it's easier to set the boundaries beginning with a man's word. The hero has normally reached the point where he believes that a man is as good as his word. That if he says he'll do something, he should do it, no matter what. Those who don't keep their word -- those men are not good men. Those that say one thing so that they can do another for profit, those men are evil. Killing, and fighting, and violence, those things happen, but a man's word was what was important.
It is a basic, almost childlike view of the world but out in the big open, exposed to all manner of nature and dangerous encounters, a man has to start somewhere and build from that point. And really that is the nature of the Western. Out here in the big open, on the frontier where law is lawless, out here where a man can be anything if he has the strength and power to enforce his will -- what will he be? Will be be true to himself? Will he keep his word?
Between the surface and the big open there is a lot of ground to cover, and only a man on the trail can cover it -- him, and writers like Earl Chessher who has shown in his book Stilts, that he's willing to ride those deeper trails, and go into the towns where the answers aren't easy to find, or easy to look at when you do find them.
Stilts shows the reader all that a Western has to offer, so keep your saddle belt cinched tight, your eyes open, and your gun loose in the holster.
Let me begin by saying that western novels are not my typical genre. Stilts, by Earl Chessher, is actually the first western novel I've ever read, and I'm glad I did.
With only 76 pages, it is a very quick read. I know some people judge a book not only by its cover, but also by its length. For those out there who think a book needs to be thick, think again. Some of the best books I've ever read, this one included, were short and to the point.
This one starts out with cold-blooded action and then trails the reader along on a quest for revenge. The main character, Randy (a.k.a. Stilts), is a good guy who's overcome a lot of hardship. And I mean a lot. He's lost his parents and his legs. When the only other two people in his life are also taken from him, he sets out to hunt down the band of outlaws responsible. He's an impressive character and you can't help but root for him along the way, even as the lines between good and evil begin to blur and Stilts becomes a bit of an outlaw himself. The story culminates with an extraordinary shoot out. It's the perfect ending.
I have never read a western before, and now that I've read stilts, I would happily read more, especially if they have Earl Chessher as their author. While he's not big on explaining details, his fast paced writing style threw me into the dusty countryside where Stilts resides in his quest to exact vengeance on a band of crooks who killed him. A big twist in the book actually hit me hard while reading it, and I felt like I was riding alongside Stilts as he continued his quest. I can't compare it to anything else I've read, but if I get to read something else by this author, it will always be measured against this book. Great work Earl, you had me hooked from start to finish