My Old Testament space western "Live by the Ten, Die by the Gun" is included in the latest anthology from World Weaver Press, now available wherever books are sold.
Just one of many modern space adventures crafted by a new generation of Grand Tradition science fiction writers, "Live by the Ten, Die by the Gun" opens like this:
Jeremiah Jeffers' cattle shipment was late. There were sacrifices to be made, sins to cover, and for days now, a long, restless line of the faithful standing outside the temple gates. If they were made to wait much longer, there would be new sins to atone for as impatience and bad tempers flared up. To make matters worse, Sheriff MacIntyre offered no help whatsoever.
"Don't know what you expect me to do about it, Priest." Boaz MacIntyre stood at the station viewdeck with his arms crossed, his stunner slung low in its holster.
When he wasn't enforcing the Ten or catching a few hours of sleep, this was right where the tall, grizzled Lawkeeper could usually be found, staring into the cold depths of space. No one knew what he hoped to find out there, but the 270-degree view was spectacular--in small doses. It always brought a chill to Jeffers' spine to see how alone they were out here, floating on the edge of the galaxy. Not another space station or planet within a day's flight.
"If that transport ship takes much longer, we're liable to have a riot on our hands!" Jeffers protested.
"You said liable. That's what you'll be if your faithful disturb the peace. Keep your flock in line, or you'll be liable for any damage to the station."
Jeffers blinked with incredulity, gazing up at the Lawkeeper. "When was the last time you visited the temple, Sheriff?"
MacIntyre's eyes didn't shift a millimeter from the star-punctured black before them. "Every Sabbath I can."
"Yet I don't recall the last time you offered a sacrifice…"
"Guess I don't sin much."