The first two volumes of Warner Archive's Monogram Cowboy Collection were team efforts. They featured a variety of adventures from several different western stars, whether it was Jimmy Wakely hitting the prairies with a song in his heart or Rod Cameron leading wagon trains to new lives. But the Warner gang dedicated their entire third set to one hombre: Johnny Mack Brown. The former college football player-turned-B-movie star might have had a little more paunch than other vintage cowboy icons, but he knew his way around a horse and possessed enough charm to last him through over 160 flicks during his career. Nine of those pictures have been wrangled up for this third volume of the Monogram Cowboy Collection, and whether he grappled with posses under his own name or as "Nevada Jack" McKenzie, Brown more than proved himself to be a prolific genre talent.

FLAME OF THE WEST (1945). A doctor (Brown) tries to move on from his checkered past after settling in a town teeming with hell-raisers. Flame of the West is an odd duck, not only in how Brown portrays a pacifist with an aversion to guns (as opposed to a traditionally trigger-savvy hero) but also in how the picture has difficulty deciding whether or not he's even our lead. The story's focus drifts freely between him, a saloon maven (Joan Woodbury) with a heart of gold, and a tough old lawman (Douglass Dumbrille) on a mission to clean up the place. Although these stories are explored for about the same amount of screen time, the constant jumping from one to the next leaves them feeling fairly incomplete, ensuring that none end with a totally satisfying resolution. But while its screenplay is in a terribly screwy state, Flame of the West ends up being an overall decent watch, memorable for nothing if not for its efforts to bring a dramatic flair to a genre running rampant with abject gunplay.

THE GHOST RIDER (1943). A mystery man (Brown) gallops into danger when he faces down a power-hungry fiend (Harry Woods). While you're certain from the start it wouldn't be so bold as to position Brown as a villain, The Ghost Rider disguises its true intentions long enough to give an otherwise ho-hum story an interesting edge. In fact, just about nobody is who they claim they are here, what with Raymond Hatton's seemingly dimwitted sheriff proving more wily than the bad guys expect. In the end, the picture is your typical ballet of broncos and bullets, but it succeeds in keeping ahead of the viewer well enough to hold their investment until the final battle. Not to be confused with a certain film where Nicolas Cage's flaming skeleton traipses around, The Ghost Rider offers a fun little adventure that does a swell job of giving you the goods in a speedy time frame.

LAW OF THE PANHANDLE (1950). A marshal (Brown) joins up with a sheriff (Riley Hill) to find out why a community is so beset by outlaws. With all due respect to a cast and crew that've spent more time on saloon sets than the prop liquor bottles, Law of the Panhandle is one of the dullest matinee westerns I've seen yet. The story, as uninspired as they come, seems too hopelessly shackled to its worn-out formula to stir up the proverbial pot in the slightest. There's such a thing as being too simplistic, and this movie does it, with Brown's heroics failing to incite much excitement during the long, arduous trudge to the end. For some, a few thundering hooves and the crack of a rifle is all that's needed to have a good time, but for those that seek even just a little something extra, Law of the Panhandle will unfortunately leave you feeling even thirstier than before.

THE NAVAJO TRAIL (1945). Brown goes undercover as a bandit to bring a killer and a ring of horse thieves to justice. While Brown's disposition is much too genial for him to make a convincing fake bad guy, his quest to take down the scum of the west helps make The Navajo Trail nice and exciting. Aiding him is Raymond Hatton's Sandy Hopkins, a fellow marshal who trails behind while trying to stay a step ahead of the villains. The lawmen have to improvise their way out of numerous jams here, giving the film a number of suspenseful and cleverly-executed scenes where their cover is dangerously close to getting blown. The Navajo Trail appears very simple but put togther rather well, primed with enough humor and horseplay to make its minute glide on by.

OUTLAWS OF STAMPEDE PASS (1943). Once more, Brown infiltrates an evil gang, in order to find out who left a young cattle man (Jon Dawson) for dead and stole his herd. Outlaws of Stampede Pass revisits the premise of having old Johnny Mack embedding himself with lowdown rustlers for a good cause, and again, it ends up being to entertaining effect. Our hero still has difficulty hiding his pleasant nature underneath a tough hombre's guise, but when he fares so well in doling out saddlebags full of flying fists in the meantime, one tends not to mind so much. There's a romantic subplot that's a fairly big washout, but at least Raymond Hatton is still on hand to kick up some smiles as the clever old coot Sandy Hopkins. Outlaws of Stampede Pass delivers a pretty easygoing ride, showing you a fun time with as few bumps in the road as possible.

RANGE LAW (1944). When an old rancher (Steve Clark) is accused of rustling and sentenced to hang, Brown saddles up to learn who framed him. Despite the premise having an effective "race against time" element to it, Range Law's pace gradually slows down to a lethargic trot. Brown just isn't in a very exciting form here, as he's constantly upstaged and outshone by the supporting cast. Raymond Hatton returns and continues to be a hoot, although the show is consistently stolen by Sarah Padden as a tenacious general store proprietor who'll do anything to see her friend proven innocent. Range Law is plenty harmless, but even as something lasting just under an hour's time, it feels as though so much could've been taken out to get things moving faster.

SHADOWS ON THE RANGE (1946). A cattle agent (Brown) comes to the rescue and heads incognito as a fugitive to discover why a ranch owner was killed. As in Law of the Panhandle, Shadows on the Range leaves such an overall weak impression, one can be forgiven for forgetting details even as they're watching the dang thing. Everything about this picture feels so dry and sluggish, from the action to the unfolding of the cliched and interminable story. Not even Raymond Hatton's kooky behavior gets the chance to shine, as he's relegated to the sidelines so Brown can boringly try to put one over on the villains he's in bed with. Whether it be its gunfights or its romance, Shadows on the Range barely lifts a finger towards tripping our collective trigger.

SIX GUN GOSPEL (1943). A lawman (Brown) sets his sights on corraling a gang seeking to take advantage of an upcoming railroad. The title itself is one of the coolest I've seen so far from a western, but it also helps that Six Gun Gospel is just a neat movie, period. Cliched as the proceedings can get sometimes, the steady stream of thrills and plot developments are enough to keep things percolating more often than not. Aside from the saloon shootout finale coming off on the anticlimactic side, the action is served up at an agreeable pace, with Brown getting out of danger thanks to either his wink, his smile, or his mean right hook. There isn't a whole lot to Six Gun Gospel, but what's there is to the point, good-natured, and darn riveting.

THE STRANGER FROM PECOS (1943). A marshal (Brown) goes after a corrupt sheriff and his posse when they try framing a young man for murder. While I'm disappointed that The Stranger from Pecos didn't gravitate towards the darker direction it hinted at early on (with Brown's character being a revenge-seeking gunslinger who got hired by Uncle Sam), the movie it becomes is by no means terrible. At worst, it's a little on the repetitive side; this is the same old story about a good guy going undercover to bust up a group of bad guys, though the flick's slightly tougher edge keeps it from going totally stale. Also, Raymond Hatton's Sandy Hopkins stands out in a couple pretty funny sequences, especially one where he gives back a man's stolen cash by having to lose in a poker game that gives him great hands. The Stranger from Pecos is a decent picture one can't be mad at for not giving into grittier impulses, but it does leave one wondering how it might've turned out had it been painted in a less light shade.

(The Monogram Cowboy Collection: Volume 3 is available to purchase through the Warner Archive Collection: http://www.warnerarchive.com)