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In a town ruled by sin, will he earn her love or her lies?
Dodge City, Kansas – 1877
Sadie Sullivan lost everything when a herd of longhorn cattle bound for Dodge City trampled and destroyed her farm. Now she works in Dodge—one of the most wicked and lawless towns in the West—at the Northern Star saloon. But her survival in this new world of sin and violence depends on maintaining a lie so deadly it could end her life before the town of Dodge can.
The one man capable of unraveling all of Sadie's secrets is Noah Ballantyne, the Texan rancher whose herd destroyed her home. Back in town and taking up the role of deputy alongside legendary lawman Bat Masterson, Noah vows he won't leave until he's made things right. But with the saloon’s madam unwilling to release Sadie and a rich cattle baron wanting her as well, the odds aren’t in favor of finding love…or leaving town alive.
Excerpt:
South of Dodge City, Kansas
They were
destroying everything: the tiny apple tree she’d sheltered in the
wagon during the long, sweltering journey from Virginia; the fence
she’d devoted weeks to repairing over the winter with scraps of
deadwood; the vegetable garden she’d sown during the first whisper
of spring and painstakingly coaxed to life every heartbeat since.
All trampled,
devoured, gone.
Sadie glared at
the beasts, eyes burning with tears of hopeless rage. They were thin,
ugly creatures, wielding heavy horns that stretched out of their
skulls like spears. Texas longhorns, the Devil’s helpers. In the
middle of them rode Lucifer himself, sent straight up from hell to
torment her and tear away everything she’d slaved to build.
She tracked the
long-legged, solid-built cowboy as he steered his horse through the
milling animals, angling toward her and her father—and their sod
house which, she realized with increasing dismay, was also in danger
of being leveled by the heaving mass of cattle. The intruder, similar
to all the other Texas drovers, was covered in a layer of trail dust
so thick it hung on him like a second skin. But it was one of the
only things he and the other men had in common.
While the rest
hollered and cracked whips over the backs of the beasts in their
charge—trying to persuade them to return to the trail—this man
urged his charcoal-colored mount through the river of hide and horn,
making a beeline for her.
His silence, along
with his ability to guide his horse with remarkably little effort,
infuriated her. As the distance between them shortened, unease crept
up her spine. His gaze was unwavering, never leaving her.
She tightened her
grip on the ancient shotgun clutched at her side, and concentrated on
her anger and frustration, transferring them from the longhorns to
settle solely on him. She did not want him to come any closer.
Yanking the
shotgun up to her shoulder, she took aim.
The cowboy
straightened in his saddle but otherwise did not acknowledge her
hostile action. Nor did he slacken his pace; if anything, he bore
down on her even faster.
Damn him to
hell. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Something slammed
down on her shotgun, pitching the rusted barrel earthward. The
buckshot tore a savage gouge out of the clay in front of her and
kicked up a cloud of dust. The blast forced her to stumble back.
Her father’s red
face inserted itself between her and the cowboy. With a curse, he
jerked the weapon from her grasp.
As she stood
gawking at him, the cattle, spooked by the shotgun blast, bolted—fast
and in every direction. Her father sprinted toward their lone plow
horse, scrambled onto its back and galloped away from the cattle and
her.
She shouldn’t
have expected anything different. Still the hurt came. Sharp and
deep. Once again he’d thought only of himself. He’d abandoned her
in the center of the herd, alone and defenseless.
I’m going to
be trampled, she realized. I’m going to die.
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