The book I have just finished, Hunger on the Chisolm Trail by M. Ennenbach, is a creepy, foreboding tale of monsters and the anarchy that is the Wild West. Beginning with a spooky encounter, this book has no problem cutting right to the chase, and the pace is just whiplash-inducingly fast, with barely any breaks. This sense of pace is demonstrated perfectly in this passage:
“The hawk’s cry pierced the silence at the same time a different cry came bellowing from the back of the wagon. Chris stared as the wagon began shaking as if in an earthquake. The cross held so tightly in his hands four drops of blood dripped down his forearm. ‘Jesse! Are you alright in there?’ James yelled. Chris watched in horror as the men circled behind the wagon with guns raised. He heard the exclamations of fear, wordless shouts and gasps. Unintelligible. Gunfire filled the former silence as all three men let loose with the steel in their hands.”
Now this is just a piece of tension-building exposition, however it still goes along at a break-neck pace (literally and figuratively). The next few pages, which I will not quote, are even more action-filled, and genuine fun-filled horror action. This book may seem silly, being about monsters (more accurately, a monster), and the wild west, but sometimes a silly book about monsters and the Wild West is all we need in our lives.