Six Sins In My Holster!

When Range-Wolves Ride by Curtis Bishop.

They threw the gauntlet at Dave Randall.  Play the Owlhoot game of fast bullets and dazzling dinero – or strike a lone hand against double – cross sixes.  It was Dave Randall’s first trip to the Cotulla since his brother’s death and his return from a two-year hitch with the Texas Rangers.  Several people waved to him as he turned his horse into Denton’s stable, then came on foot almost the length of Main Street to the unpainted one-storied building that served as saloon and recreation center for the ranchmen, cattle hands and homesteaders drifting into this crossroad town. – pp. 4-5.

Six Sins in my Holster by John Starr

Sage Valley had been stolen more times than the ranch foreman’s celluloid collar.  It was a pretty stretch of cow grass as the sun ever shone on, and lay to the west of a range of low foothills known as Wildcat Hills.  There were five considerable ranches in the valley, and then at the foot of the hills on the east side of Sage Valley there was a cluster of old cabins known as the Cross J.  It was known chiefly as a rustler hangout.  Adventurous men had squatter in those cabins from time to time, but most of them had been shot or hanged on suspicion.  Ranchmen in the valley did business that way. – p.51