"Gravedigger, when you dig my grave..."
I first encountered Coy Hall's antihero Eli Valero in the pages of Broadswords & Blasters. In short form, the character came across as a welcome, fairly straightforward homage to Spaghetti Western gunslingers like Django and Sartana. With a full novel in which to flesh out the character more three-dimensionally, along with a rich supporting cast, Hall takes a surprisingly different method of attack, with a slower burn and a more sinister tone. No one uses historical detail and atmospheric description to build mood quite like Hall does, and he paints this dying frontier town and the nearby haunted abbey so I could smell the dirt and rot on everyone and everything. I also appreciated how we meet Valero strung out at the end of his rope (so to speak), truly a shadow of his legendary reputation, and though he rises to the occasion, in a nice subversion of convention, never quite seems to be back at 100% throughout the story. I often found myself reminded of the films High Plains Drifter and The Proposition, where everyone's at least somewhat out of their minds from heatstroke, isolation, and paranoia, of the former's ambiguous insinuation of the supernatural and the latter's stark, almost casual ugliness to the ensuing brutality. I only felt knocked out of it a little near the end, by a slightly out-of-place contrivance to allow for a more conventional, old fashioned Wild West showdown. In the end, Hall perhaps leaves us with as many questions as answers about ol' Valero, but if that means we're due to meet back up with the character further on down the trail, I'm all for it.