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Take the law into your own hands, and you risk losing your grip on everything else—including your life. Lee Weston—a young Paul Newman with a Colt revolver at his hip—is as good-looking as he is quick tempered, and he’s got a lot to be angry about.
His father murdered, his family ranch torched, he goes gunning for Harvey Dodge—the man who he’s convinced is the killer—and it’s Lee who ends up on the wrong side of the law. Shot in a gunfight, on the run and running out of time, he holes up in a mountain hideout and waits for death to come find him.
But he wakes up in the arms of a beautiful woman who has beat death to his door and nursed him back to life. She’s the first and only woman he has ever fallen for, and her name is Ellen Dodge—Harvey’s daughter. Can a great loss lead to a great love? Can the search for revenge lead to redemption? The answers lie in the wild heart of the Wild West—in Branded Outlaw.
L. Ron Hubbard was so prolific, and his stories so much in demand, he occasionally had to publish under a pseudonym to ensure that his name wouldn’t appear twice in a single issue of a magazine. Thus did Branded Outlaw originally appear as being written by a writer named Barry Randolph. But as is clear from the action and authenticity of the story, it was Hubbard behind the curtain pulling the levers. This is one of sixteen westerns Hubbard wrote in 1938—all influenced by a foray into New Mexico to round out his research. His unsurpassed knowledge of the West originated in his years growing up—and riding on—the range.
“Packs a ton of action and some priceless shootout scenes.” —EZReader.com
About the Author
As one of the 20 top bestselling authors of all time, with more than 325 million works in circulation, L. Ron Hubbard stands alongside an illustrious company of writers. But he also stands alone—as an author who actually lived many of the stories he wrote.
Read an Excerpt
Gradually the proximity of death drove all other thoughts from Lee’s head. He rode in a red nightmare of pain, fast because he could see the cloud which marked the pursuit behind him. Somehow he had to get into the mountains.
Many times, as a boy, he had ridden over this terrain. And it was only because he knew it so well that he was able to reach the canyon mouth which led upward into a tangled labyrinth of ravines and peaks. Somewhere ahead, he knew, there was a stream and on its banks there was an old trapper’s cabin, so well hidden that few punchers, interested mainly in the flat range, had ever come upon it. That place, where he had once spent happy weeks fishing for trout, was his only chance of life—providing he could remain conscious long enough to reach it.
—L. Ron Hubbard