Harrow's Run

The premise is promising — a drought-struck town, a stolen engine, a mechanic heroine — but the execution left me flat. The prose is competent and occasionally striking (that scar image is great), but the story leans heavily on familiar tropes: the underdog rallying a ragtag crew, the greedy mill owner, the race against time. There are moments that feel rushed and others that drag; I never felt the emotional climax fully land. The mechanical pony, which could have been a distinctive, characterful element, mostly functions as a cute gadget rather than something with narrative weight. I also wanted more explanation about how the pocket engine actually works and why it’s so rare. Not awful, but also not as original as the blurb promises.

I wanted to like this more than I did. The opening is lovely — the sun described as an accusation and the tactile shop details are strong — but after that the plot settles into a familiar groove: stolen MacGuffin, small band of allies, greedy mill owner. The mechanical pony and pocket engine are neat ideas, but they never quite feel fully realized; the engine’s capabilities and limitations are described just enough to move the plot, not enough to make it feel credible. Pacing drags in the middle, especially during the second act when the company wanders eastward and the scenes become a series of obstacles that read a bit like checkboxes. I also felt the mill owner was a touch one-dimensional — villainy for villainy’s sake. If you’re after atmosphere and a likable heroine, there’s enjoyment here; if you want a plot that surprises or a deeper exploration of the tech, you might be disappointed.

I enjoyed Harrow’s Run for its balance of character work and plot momentum. June’s expertise — repairing harnesses, coaxing telegraph keys, and handling springs — is consistently foregrounded, which gives the action authenticity. The town is drawn with affectionate specificity: the boardwalk, the smell of tar and cold coffee, Mateo’s lazy banter. The stakes are straightforward but effective: reclaim the pocket engine, power the pump, save people. The greedy mill owner is a clear antagonist and the way the community mobilizes felt earned, particularly in scenes where June’s practical knowledge is what binds people together. If I had one suggestion it would be to slightly deepen the backstory of the itinerant engineer; his motivations are intriguing but hover at the edges. Still, a well-crafted, heartfelt Western with clever steampunk flourishes.

Absolutely loved it. June is the kind of protagonist I want on my side in a dust-up: sharp, practical, and brave in a quiet, stubborn way. The opening hook — the sun, the shop, the telegraph key — immediately sets tone. Little details like Mateo’s flour-smudged nose and Elias getting the stage ready make the town feel real. The mechanical pony and itinerant engineer brought a cool steampunk vibe without going overboard, and the theft of the pocket engine meaningfully raises the stakes — it’s not just a gadget, it’s the thing that could save people. The pacing is solid; there’s tension when June races east and real satisfaction when the townsfolk start to rally. This is a great read for 18–25 readers who like adventure, invention, and a heroine who actually fixes things herself. Big thumbs up 🙂

There’s a lyricism in this story that surprised me for a Western: the world is harsh, yes, but the prose finds tenderness in the smallest places — a ribbon of leather, a telegraph key’s song, a child chasing a dog. June’s relationship to her hands (the scar, her father’s voice) carries emotional weight without melodrama. I particularly loved the scenes that show how invention and community are intertwined: the pocket engine isn’t just machinery, it’s the town’s lifeline, and the ragged company who follow June to reclaim it feel like extensions of that idea. The itinerant engineer is an excellent foil, bringing both practical skill and a kind of restless optimism that contrasts with the mill owner’s greed. The climax — you know the part, when everything hinges on whether the pump will run — is satisfying and earned. This story reminded me why I read: for characters who fight not just for themselves but for a place to belong.

This was fun — like someone mixed True Grit with a pocket-sized clockwork pony and then handed the reins to a badass mechanic named June. The greedy mill owner is exactly the kind of scumbag you love to hate, and the race east feels genuinely tense (especially the scene where June realizes the engine’s already been moved and has to make split-second choices). Mateo’s comic lazy-boy posture on the boardwalk and Elias Brant’s noon run add nice local color. I’ll admit I smiled at the mechanical pony more than I should’ve. If you want a girl-powered, grease-and-gear Western with heart and some sly humor, this nails it. Also, Junie is a great nickname. 🤠

Concise, atmospheric, and utterly engaging. The opening lines hooked me — that sun, the creak of the shop, the smell of boiled leather — and June’s scar doing emotional heavy lifting was brilliant. Small-town details like the telegraph key and Mateo’s flour-smudged grin make the community feel tangible. The narrative’s urgency (get the engine back, save the pump) carries through without feeling rushed. Loved the blend of frontier grit and clever invention. Tight, satisfying, and full of voice.

Harrow’s Run succeeds largely because of its confident, sensory worldbuilding. From the opening harness scene to the telegraph key that “still sang under her fingers,” the prose places you squarely in a drought-struck frontier town where invention and scarcity sit cheek-by-jowl. The plot — a race east to recover a stolen pocket engine that powers a life-saving pump — is straightforward but effective, and the moral conflict with the greedy mill owner provides a clean antagonist to focus on. I appreciated how June’s practical skills (fixing springs, making harnesses) are integral to the story rather than ornamental. The mechanical pony and the itinerant engineer add charming steampunk-adjacent flair without undermining the Western atmosphere. A tiny quibble: a few secondary characters could be sketched a fraction more (Mateo’s quickness, for example, hints at deeper layers), but overall this is sturdy, immersive storytelling with real heart.

I fell in love with June Harrow on the second paragraph. That image of the sun “like an accusation” and June moving through her shop with the telegraph key singing under her fingers — chef’s kiss. The writing is tactile: you can smell the oil, feel the scar tug under her skin, and hear the mule’s hooves on the boardwalk. June is a wonderful protagonist — practical, skilled, quietly ferocious — and the stakes (the stolen pocket engine that can save the town’s pump) are genuinely urgent. I loved the ragged company she forms, especially the brief moments with Mateo sprawled on the boardwalk and Elias Brant preparing the stage. The steampunk touches (mechanical pony, itinerant engineer) are woven in naturally and never feel like window dressing. Emotional, hopeful, and brimming with small details that make this frontier feel lived-in. Can’t wait for more.