“Jordan’s weird western snatches the best adventure and suspense elements from both genres and distills them to their essences, creating a violence-laced but enjoyable romp.”
“This first novel adds a fresh sf twist to a coming-of-age tale of a Wild West legend. Told from Calamity Jane’s point of view, this gritty story blends the right amount of hard trials and humor, giving readers a revitalized perspective on a familiar folklore heroine.”
“Calamity is a lesson on how to do it right. Highly recommended.”
Once on my name was Martha Jane Canary. That’s Calamity Jane to you. And this here’s the story of how the one become the other. And about the Green Man what rode through hell with me to do it.
Calamity: Being an Account of Calamity Jane and Her Gunslinging Green Man is a violent reimagining of a frontier legend and her alien gunslinger as they face off against extraordinary enemies in the Wilder West.
A temperamental, teenage outcast and a hardened, alien gunslinger burn their way across the West—living as outsiders, killing like outlaws, and surviving calamities of their own making. An unexpected pair of underdogs, they confront savage spacemen, avenging posses, and native tribes on the warpath—reframing the frontier legend of Calamity Jane with a gritty and witty sci-fi twist.
Escape to a Wilder West than you’ve ever imagined.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
So, you want to hear about the Green Man, do you? About how that green son of a bitch and me burned our way clear across the Wyoming once on thirty years? Well, reckon I can tell you my part of it. But that there’s a story of some bloody goddamn revenge, it is. Against both men and worse. But if you’re like to go through the mill, mister, reckon I’d be right obliged to take you. See, once on my name was Martha Jane Canary. That’s Calamity Jane to you. And this here’s the story of how the one become the other. And about the Green Man what rode through hell with me to do it. And that’s the goddamn truth.
Part of it, anyways. Truth is, I heard him before I saw him—heard his ear-splitting roar all the way across the damn yard, even with my head pushed down in the hay, hot breathing in my ears and all. For a moment that queer howl of his right drowned out my own screams, if you’ll believe that. No sir, you don’t forget a thing like that—screams like ours.
See, Jimmy Burns was on me. I bit and I clawed at him. Did anything I could to get him away but he didn’t back off none. No, he tore at my shirt with one hand and shoved my face sideways into the hay with the other. Fuck, ain’t never been so scared. Was only a girl, see? Barely fifteen. And ain’t nobody ever set themselves on me like that before, what with rape on their mind. And here was one of them doing it, too, what shot up Mister Harthra and the boys. Doing me worse than dead. So I screamed loud as I could from under Jimmy’s muffling. And I thrashed all wild against him, swinging my knees and elbows into whatever bits I could.
Being in such a heap, the Green Man’s howl wasn’t all that frightening. Not to me. I’d heard Mister Harthra make such a holler once on when he was mad as all hell. So I drew hope from that roar, I did. Hope what I wasn’t all lonesome out there in that barn. That someone else survived the die-up. That maybe what I saw done to Mister Harthra and the boys was some kind of bad dream what I was finally waking from.
But that roar? Well, Jimmy’s buddy—Walker, I think it was—was might upset by it. And rightly so, I reckon. Was the last damn thing he ever heard.
