Using new material, the author re-creates Houston as a frontiersman, soldier, and politician, plus his tumultuous personal life.

Mandred Wood may have caught a glint off the Bowie knife that sank into his belly--but probably not. On the afternoon of November 11, 1837, he had exchanged "harsh epithets" with David James Jones, a hero of the Texas Revolution. When words failed, Jones closed the argument with his blade. Such affrays were common in Houston, the fledgling capital of the Republic of Texas. This one, however, was singular. Wood was a gentleman and Jones a member of a disruptive gang of vagrants that the upper crust denounced as the "rowdy loafers." Jones went to jail; Wood went to his grave. In the weeks that followed, the killing resounded throughout the squalid, verminous city that one resident described as the "most miserable place in the world." Stephen L. Hardin's suspenseful and witty narrative reads like a contemporary page-turner, yet all is carefully documented history. He entwines the murder into the story of the sordid city like the strands of a hangman's rope. It is an astonishing tale peopled by remarkable characters: the one-armed newspaper editor and political candidate who employs the crime to advance his sanctimonious agenda; the Kentucky lawyer who enjoys champagne breakfasts and collecting human skulls; the German immigrant who sees rats gnaw the finger off an infant lying in his cradle; the Alamo widow whose circumstances force her to practice the oldest profession; the sociopathic physician who slaughters an innocent man in a duel; the Methodist minister horrified by the drunken debaucheries of government officials; and the president himself--the Sword of San Jacinto-- who during a besotted bacchanal strips to his underwear. Skillfully conceived and masterfully written, Texian Macabre: A Melancholy Tale of a Hanging in Early Houston will transport readers to a lost time and place.

As the great-great-granddaughter of Sam Houston and Margaret Lea, Madge Thornall Roberts played in her great-grandparents’ home in Independence, Texas, which had Santa Anna’s saddle in the upstairs hall, the San Jacinto sword over the mantle, and where she kept her doll’s clothes in an old chest of Margaret Lea’s. Trunks of documents sat unattended in the barn. Some of those papers later were burned, and what remained were divided among descendants. Madge Roberts has gathered these documents together again and, along with other Houston letters and interviews, woven them into the story of the Houstons’ marriage. Much is known about Sam Houston’s political and military career, but the influence of his wife and children on his life has been overlooked. The letters are astonishing in their emotional honesty, revealing a deep interdependency as well as a close and loving marital partnership.

Vintage James Lee Burke: The first novel introducing the memorable Texas sheriff Hackberry Holland, coming of age against the backdrop of the civil rights era in a sultry border town. In hot and sultry Texas, Hack, an attorney and Korean War POW, is being pushed by his wife, his brother, and his so-called friends in the oil business to run for political office. But Hack would prefer to drink, look after his beloved horses, and represent the occasional long-shot pro bono case at his law firm. When Hack attempts to overturn a conviction for an old army buddy, he finds himself embroiled in the seamy underbelly of the Texas patronage system—and in the earliest beginnings of the United Farm Workers movement, led by a beautiful woman who speaks to his heart in a way no one else has. As Hack begins to bring justice to the underserved, he finds both a new love and a new purpose. With his skillful blend of engaging plotlines, compelling characters, and graceful prose, James Lee Burke demonstrates the shimmering clarity of vision that has made him beloved by suspense fans all over the globe.

In 1819 to 1820 several hundred Cherokees-led by Duwali, a chief from Tennessee-settled along the Sabine, Neches, and Angelina rivers in east Texas. Welcomed by Mexico as a buffer to U.S. settlement, Duwali’s people had separated from other Western Cherokees in an effort to retain the tribe’s traditional lifeways. As Dianne Everett details in The Texas Cherokees, they found themselves "caught between two fires" in many respects: between the Cherokee ideal of harmony and the reality of factionalism, between white settlers pushing westward and western Indians resisting incursions, and between traditional ways and the practical necessity of accommodating to whites.