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    The Last Ride of German Freddie
    The Last Ride of German Freddie
    The Last Ride of German Freddie
    Ebook70 pages1 hour

    The Last Ride of German Freddie

    By Walter Jon Williams

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    NIETZSCHE AT THE O.K. CORRAL!

    The Clantons and the Earps are heading for a deadly showdown, and into the town of Tombstone rides German Freddie, a gunslinger with a deadly reputation and a penchant for philosophical speculation. Freddie’s committed to a life that is mad, dangerous, and free, and the Earps had better not get in his way--- or else they should be prepared to face the wrath of Freddie’s famous six-gun, Zarathustra . . .

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWalter Jon Williams
    Release dateOct 5, 2014
    ISBN9780990550952
    The Last Ride of German Freddie
    Author

    Walter Jon Williams

     Walter Jon Williams is a New York Times bestselling author who has been nominated repeatedly for every major sci-fi award, including Hugo and Nebula Awards nominations for his novel City on Fire. He is the author of Hardwired, Aristoi, Implied Spaces, and Quillifer. Williams lives near Albuquerque, New Mexico, with his wife, Kathleen Hedges.

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      Book preview

      The Last Ride of German Freddie - Walter Jon Williams

      The Last Ride of German Freddie

      Walter Jon Williams

      Copyright (c) 2002, 2014

      All rights reserved

      Cover art by Harvey Dunn

      Smashwords edition published by Walter Jon Williams

      BOOKS BY WALTER JON WILLIAMS

      Novels

      Ambassador of Progress

      Angel Station

      Hardwired

      Knight Moves

      Implied Spaces

      Voice of the Whirlwind

      Days of Atonement

      Aristoi

      Metropolitan

      City on Fire

      The Rift (originally as by Walter J Williams)

      Divertimenti

      The Crown Jewels

      House of Shards

      Rock of Ages

      Dread Empire’s Fall

      The Praxis

      The Sundering

      Conventions of War

      Investments (short novel)

      Dagmar Shaw Thrillers

      This Is Not a Game

      Deep State

      The Fourth Wall

      Collections

      Facets

      Frankensteins & Foreign Devils

      The Green Leopard Plague and Other Stories

      Privateers & Gentlemen (historical novels, originally as by Jon Williams)

      To Glory Arise (originally published as The Privateer)

      The Tern Schooner (originally published as The Yankee)

      Brig of War (originally published as The Raider)

      The Macedonian

      Cat Island

      The Last Ride of German Freddie

      Ecce homo, said German Freddie with a smile. That is your man, I believe.

      That's him, Brocius agreed. That's Virgil Earp, the lawman.

      What do you suppose he wants? asked Freddie.

      He's got a warrant for someone, said Brocius, or he wouldn't be here.

      Freddie gazed without enthusiasm at the lawman walking along the opposite side of Allen Street in Tombstone. Earp’s spurred boots clumped on the wooden sidewalk. He looked as if he had somewhere to go.

      Entities should not be multiplied beyond what is necessary, said Freddie, or so Occam is understood to have said. If he is here for one of us, then so much the worse for him. If not, what does it matter to us?

      Curly Bill Brocius looked thoughtful. I don't know about this Occam fellow, but as my mamma would say, those fellers don't chew their own tobacco. Kansas lawmen come at you in packs.

      So do we, said Freddie. And this is not Kansas.

      No, said Brocius. It's Tombstone He gave Freddie a warning look from his lazy eyes. Remember that, my friend, he said, and watch your back.

      Brocius drifted up Allen Street in the direction of Hafford's Saloon while Freddie contemplated Deputy U.S. Marshal Earp. The man was dressed like the parson of a particularly gloomy Protestant sect, with a black flat-crowned hat, black frock coat, black trousers, and immaculate white linen.

      German Freddie decided he might as well meet this paradigm.

      He walked across the dusty Tombstone street, stepped onto the sidewalk, and raised his grey sombrero.

      Pardon me, he said. But are you Virgil Earp?

      The man looked at him, light eyes over fair mustache. No, he said. I'm his brother.

      Wyatt? Freddie asked. He knew that the deputy had a lawman brother.

      No, the man said. I'm their brother, Morgan.

      A grin tugged at Freddie's lips. Ah, he said. "I perceive that entities are multiplied beyond that which is necessary."

      Morgan Earp gave him a puzzled look. Freddie raised his hat again. I beg your pardon, he said. I won't detain you.

      *

      It is like a uniform, Freddie wrote in his notebook that night. Black coats, black hats, black boots. Blond mustaches and long guns in the scabbards, riding in line abreast as they led their posse out of town. As a picture of purposeful terror they stand like the Schwartzreiter of three centuries ago, horsemen who held all Europe in fear. They entirely outclassed that Lt. Hurst, who was in a real uniform and who was employing them in the matter of those stolen Army mules.

      What fear must dwell in the hearts of these Earps to present themselves thus! They must dress and walk and think alike; they must enforce the rigid letter of the dead, dusty law to the last comma; they must cling to every rule and range and feature of mediocrity ... it is fear that drives men to herd together, to don uniforms, to impose upon others a needless conformity. But what enemy is it they fear? What enemy is so dreadful as to compel them to wear uniforms and arm themselves so heavily and cling to their beliefs with such ferocity?

      It is their own nature! The weak, who have no power even over themselves, fear always the power that lies in a free nature—a nature fantastic, wild, astonishing, arbitrary—they must enslave this spirit first in themselves before they can enslave it in others.

      It is therefore our duty—the duty of those who are free, who are natural, valorous, and unafraid, those who scorn what is sickly, cowardly, and slavish—we must resist these Earps!

      And already we have won a victory—won it without raising a finger, without lifting a gun. The posse of that terrible figure of justice, that Mr. Virgil Earp, found the mules they were searching for in Frank McLaury's corral at Baba Comari—but then the complainant Lt. Hurst took counsel of his own fears, and refused to press charges.

      It is wonderful! Deputy Marshal Earp, the sole voice

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