Amidst a Vicious Range War (Preview)

Chapter One

Ed Hedges spurred his brown and white gelding toward the lake that was on Elliot Holden’s land, not Mr. Trowbridge’s. He was trailing a couple of stray cattle from one of Trowbridge’s herds. Thankfully, the young Mr. Holden didn’t mind if riders chased down cattle that trespassed on his land. The strays often headed for the water.  He looked up and admired the snowcapped mountains in the distance, blanketed by the bright blue sky. A small clump of Aspen trees, yellow leaves showing, grew about halfway up the mountain. He stopped for a moment. He had never seen Aspen trees at that height. Maybe that was a good sign.

As the trail curved, he looked ahead and saw one of the strays, but the sight of the steer wasn’t what caught his attention and sent his heart racing.

Patches of green bushes guarded the lake.  On the ground between two grassy clumps were boots. He edged his horse over and climbed down. He waded between the bushes and saw the dead man.  Two dark red spots smeared his shirt. Although Hedges saw nothing dangerous and sensed nothing, his hand touched his pistol. He didn’t know the dead man, and he thought that odd. He knew most of the cowhands in the county. The dead cowboy was an older man, likely at least forty, with black beard stubble showing.  The body had been stripped of a gunbelt but not mutilated. Blood leaked from the red wounds and dripped onto the ground. Hedges bent down to inspect the body.

Strange. Most deaths in the West were cut and dried. In this case, the wounds had not been made from bullets.  The man had been killed by arrows. There had been rumors of a renegade Comanche band in the region, but if the Comanches killed the man, why pull their arrows out? He had never heard of Comanches – or any Indians for that matter – doing that. But the dead man’s horse was gone. Comanches would steal his horse, but so would white killers. A horse is valuable. You don’t leave it behind. He stood up and studied the ground. There were signs of two unshod ponies and that would mean Indians.

He looked around and saw the three strays near a trio of trees. He had to round them up and head them back to Trowbridge’s ranch and tell others about the dead man. He headed over to the steers when he heard the loud crack of a rifle, not a handgun.

“Stay where you are,” a hard voice said.

Hedges stuck up his hands and turned around. Three men on horses had ridden up behind him. One with a black hat and black vest aimed a rifle at him.

“You’re trespassing,” he said.

Hedges pointed to the three steers.  “Those beef roamed away from the herd. I’m from the Trowbridge ranch. Mr. Holden doesn’t mind if we catch a roaming steer. We’ve done it before.”

“You ain’t on Holden land. You’re on Ben Thames’ property.”

Hedges shook his head. “No, this land belongs to Mr. Holden. Has for years.”

The black vested man slung one leg over his horse and landed both boots on the ground. The other men also climbed down from their mounts. Hedges pointed toward the boots.

“I also found a dead man here. Looks like Indians.”

Black vest looked toward the body. “Check that out, Slim,” he told one man. Then he stared at Hedges.

“This land belongs to Ben Thames. And he don’t like trespassers, be they animal or men.”

“Then I’ll get on my horse and be on my way.”

The man lifted the rifle a bit. “No, you won’t. You’ll stay right where you are. You’re gonna pay for putting your boots on another man’s property.”

“Snake! He’s right. There’s a dead man over here. Been shot. Looks like with arrows.”

The black vested man must be Rattlesnake Payne, Hedges thought.  There couldn’t be two men named “Snake” in the county. Rumors had spread through the region that Thames was hiring gunmen,  men who were tough and good with guns, instead of being good with cattle. One of the rumors involved a man named Snake.

“Jim, keep a gun on this man,” Snake said.

He ran over toward Slim and the dead body. He grunted when he saw the two bloody spots on the dead man’s shirt.

“Any other marks?”

“No. Usually, Comanches like to cut up their victims a bit.”

“I know,” Snake said.

“We better go back and tell Mr. Thames about this.”

Snake nodded. “We’ll do that, but first, we’re gonna teach the trespasser a lesson.”

He walked back to where Hedges stood, with his hands up. With three men covering him, Hedges looked uneasy. He also recognized immediately what type of man Snake was. A trace of cold fear seized his stomach.

“Mr. Holden has always let men from both ranches find their strays. He lets them use the water too. I was just—”

Snake slung the butt of the rifle into Hedges’ stomach. He groaned and collapsed on the ground.

“Tie him to that first tree. We’re gonna send a message about what will happen to trespassers.”

Snake walked to his horse and unhooked a whip from his saddle horn. His two men had grabbed Hedges and pulled him toward the tree.

“Stop it!” yelled a voice behind the men.

Snake dropped the whip but swung his rifle around. He frowned when he saw Elliot Holden on his horse.

“You let that man go,” he said. “This is my property, and you three can ride off.”

Holden was young, with brown hair and an unimposing voice. But he was almost six-foot, and his dark eyes blazed.

“We’ll go when we want.”

“You’ll go now,” Holden said.

Snake raised his rifle. “You’re arguing with a Winchester, Holden. If I gut-shoot you, the Winchester wins the argument. Ever seen a man gut-shot? It’s not an easy way to go.” Suddenly he smiled. “I notice you ain’t carrying. I was told you didn’t, and I thought I was being lied to.  If you’re a man, you better carry a gun. I’m gonna take the hide off this man’s back to show this is Ben Thames’ property and nobody better set foot on it if they don’t belong here.”

“You’re crazy. You want to start a range war?”

Snake spit on the ground. “I don’t have to worry about that with the likes of a man who don’t carry a gun.”

Holden quickly dismounted and took two steps toward Snake. “You let that man go.”

“Not a chance.”

Holden took another step. “Then you are going to have to kill me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

Snake swung his rifle toward Holden. When he did a bullet clanged into the rifle. Snake was knocked back by the impact and dropped the gun. Holden turned around and saw the tall, black-haired man in a gambler’s coat and vest. The man showed a wide smile. His voice was amicable.

“Sorry to intrude, gentlemen. I’m new to these parts, made the wrong turn, and got lost. But this party doesn’t look too inviting, so I will be on my way.” He raised his rifle but lowered his voice. “As soon as you two set that man free. Don’t hesitate. I’m not as good a shooter as I am a poker player, but you two are big targets that I’m pretty close to. Even a bad shooter could put a bullet in you two.” He aimed the rifle at Snake. “And I can easily put a bullet in your friend too. So let the man go.”

The two men backed away from Hedges. He ran toward his horse and climbed on, pulling his gun as he did.

Snake’s features contorted in hatred.  A small line of blood flowed from his wrist.

“Who are you, mister?” he said.

The gambler switched back to his wide grin and amicable smile.  “I don’t expect we’ll become friends anytime soon, but my name is Jim Novak. But since we’re doing introductions, what’s your name?”

“Snake.”  He almost hissed when he spoke the word.

“Well, I’ve heard that clothes make the man but, in your case, the name makes the man.”

Snake’s voice was low. “Next time I see you, I’ll drop you.”

“You tell a man who’s covering you with a rifle that? You’re a very stupid man, Snake. How have you lived this long?”

“Snake! It’s Mr. Thames. He’s riding this way.”

Snake and all the other men turned around. A short, stocky man with gray hair rode toward them with two men at his side. When they reached the lake, they halted their horses.

“What’s going on here?” Thames said.

“I was trying to recover these steers, and your three men jumped me. This is Mr. Holden’s property!” Hedges said.

Holden nodded. “Go get those steers and go back to the Trowbridge place. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Snake, I warned you about going off half-cocked. Get on your horse and get back to the ranch. You two men go with him. I told you I don’t want to start any trouble, and I don’t want to tell you again.” Thames looked toward Holden. “Sorry, Eliot.”

Novak still held his gun. He eased the barrel upwards to get attention. “Tell your man he can leave the whip. I don’t think he should carry one.”

“Leave it here,” Thames said.

Snake didn’t like the decision and glared at Novak but didn’t pick up the whip. He climbed onto his horse.

“I’m sure we can work this out, Ben,” Holden said.

“Not if you have Snake in the middle of it,” Novak said.

Thames had gray hair, but his features looked as hard as flint. Age had not softened the aquiline nose or the hard, black eyes.  He directed the hard eyes at Novak. His voice sounded like a hammer on steel.

“I guess I need to thank you for showing up, Novak. And I do. Things might have gotten out of hand if you hadn’t been here.” He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, the deep voice sounded like a growl. “But don’t wear out your welcome. Colorado has many scenic places. Why don’t you head for one? I don’t want to see you again.”

“I  take no pleasure in your company either, and I do plan on leaving, but I will be back. I’ve got a poker game scheduled in about two weeks. It’s hosted by Chet Hardwick, president of the local bank.” Novak gave his wide amiable smile.  “I understand that he’s a real good banker who also likes poker.”

“You invited?” Thames said, in an incredulous voice.

“Yes, I am. It’s the type of game I like. High-rollers who have so much money they won’t mind losing some of it. And I’m sure I won’t have to worry about any of those prominent men dealing from the bottom of the deck.”

Holden smiled, almost chuckling. “Looks like you’ll have some competition, Ben.” He glanced at Novak. “Mr. Thames here is one of the high rollers invited. Chet’s poker games have something of a reputation in this area.”

“I don’t know why he invited riff-raff,” Thames said.

Novak chuckled. Holden wondered if anything would upset the man.

“I’ve been called worse.” Novak lowered the rifle and slid it into the covering. “But it will be a pleasure to take your money, Mr. Thames.”

Thames didn’t look happy, but he said nothing, just walked to his horse and mounted.

“Again, my apologies, Elliot.”

“No problem, Ben. I’m just glad nobody was hurt today.”

Thames glanced at the gambler. “Novak, you better think twice about attending that poker game. You better find another place to deal cards.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s a piece of good advice. I suggest you listen to it. I told you once, and I don’t tell anyone twice. You better heed my advice.”

Thames spurred his horse and rode off.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Novak. I’m glad you got lost and showed up here.”

“You have questionable neighbors, Mr. Holden. If this is your land, you’d better put a fence around it.”

Holden shook his head. “Ben can be a hard man at times, but he’s reasonable if you talk to him.”

“I’m not sure I would call him reasonable. A reasonable rancher wouldn’t hire a man like Snake.”

Holden ignored the remark. “If you’re lost, follow me back to my ranch, and I can give you directions. I’m assuming you haven’t had lunch. We can fix you up something there. And call me Elliot.”

“Thank you, Elliot; I’ll take you up on your kind offer.”

As Thames rode back to his ranch, one of his men moved his mount next to him.

“Mr. Thames, how has Holden survived out here? A man who doesn’t carry a gun…”

Thames had a gruff voice, but when he spoke, it was softer than usual. “If you’re thinking Elliot Holden is a coward, don’t.  He’s a man who doesn’t like trouble, butif he has to, he’ll strap on a gun. He’s a good shot. I’ve seen him shoot. But he doesn’t like unnecessary violence. Elliot was with us six years ago – he wasn’t even twenty yet – when we took off after an Apache raiding party. A dozen or more warriors raided a home near here, killed the entire family. We found them and attacked at dawn. We thought only warriors were in the band, but they had brought women and children. There was a short but vicious battle. Elliot killed at least two warriors, but he saw one boy child killed and saw a little girl crushed when a horse trampled her. She was hardly recognizable as a child after a fifteen hundred pound horse ran over her. After that, I think Elliot swore if he could avoid violence in the future, he would.  That’s why I know I can push him.  I’ve got to know how much I can push him. He’ll go an extra mile to keep the peace.” Thames sighed. “But I doubt even going the extra mile can keep the peace here.”

“Figure you’ll have to take on Mr. Trowbridge soon?”

Thames nodded. “Trowbridge and I have been at one another’s throats for years, and it’s coming to a head. We both need to expand. I’m sorry Elliot is in the middle of it, but that’s the way it is. There’s coming a time when this region will run with blood.”

Chapter Two

The squirrel ran like a gray blur across the branch. The crack of a rifle shot startled him, and he was lifted from the branch and tossed into the air. He fell on the grassy hill and didn’t move.

Samantha Wingate lowered the rifle. Usually, she liked squirrels, but they were pesky little creatures, and the region was overrun by them. But they were good for target practice. If you’re quick enough to shoot a fast-moving squirrel, a small target, then you’re a good shot.

She wished she had the freedom of Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley. She had read about them in newspapers and the dime novels. She admired their courage and their shooting. And she admired that they could wear pants. When riding and shooting, pants were better than the gray Prairie Skirt and white Victorian Blouse she wore. A woman could move quicker in pants, she thought.

Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders. She sighed. It was probably a good thing for the small animals in this section of Mississippi that she was heading west. She was not in a good mood, and when not in a good mood, she often target practiced and shot any four-legged creature who wandered into her range. Except deer. She thoughtdeers were beautiful, graceful creatures, and she could not bring herself to fire on them. She had eaten deer meat and understood the contradictory behavior. If you won’t shoot a deer, you shouldn’t eat deer that another marksman had brought down. But she had other items to worry about.

Another rifle blared, but the bullet hit a branch, blowing bits of wood into the air. The squirrel scampered away. Her friend Mary Bollinger, a tall, slim brunette showed her a shy smile.

“I’m not as good as you at shooting, Samantha,” Mary said.

“That squirrel is very happy you aren’t.”

Mary lowered her rifle and stared at her friend.

“Samantha, I wish you would reconsider. You don’t know what you’re getting into if you go west. You don’t know anybody. There’s Indians and outlaws and violent men. I don’t want to lose my best friend. And my only friend here.”

Samantha aimed her rifle. “Yes, we are the outcasts in this community. We’re independent women who know how to ride and shoot. We’re the Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. But that doesn’t make us good marriage prospects here. But at least you have a beau, although you had to go to Jackson to get him.”

“Actually, he came here.” Mary smiled. “I must say I’m lucky. I don’t think I could find another man like Frank in a hundred years. Most men are appalled at my shooting skills. He admires them. You know, we seemed to just…blend with one another from the first time we met. It was amazing. Although Lorena Williams told me that’s what happened between her and her husband so many years ago.”

Lorena Williams was a widow and perhaps the oldest person they knew. Independent and sarcastic, she had wealth, so few people objected to her eccentric ways.  She had also taken the role of a loving aunt to both women. Her husband, now passed, had been one of the few men in the region to violently object to Mississippi leaving the Union, cementing the couple’s reputation for being the most irascible man and woman in the city.

“Lorena said when she saw Alfred something clicked and when Alfred saw her something busted in him. Thankfully, it was not his heart,” Mary said.

“So when does Frank pop the question?”

“Very soon.  He hinted it would be on his next trip to Hattiesburg.”

“So you will be leaving soon. I assume you will live in Jackson.”

“Yes, but I’m only moving about a hundred miles, not a thousand. And I’m not moving to a place where I don’t know anyone. I have a couple of relatives in Jackson.”

“Second cousins don’t count.”

“They do in the South.”

Samantha laughed.  “Maybe, but my future is west of the Mississippi River. There is no future here. Besides the man who wrote me sounds like a fine gentleman, and has a ranch.”

“But can you really tell anything about a man from a letter?”

“Yes. Shirley Mansell once showed me the letters her husband wrote during his time in the army during the war. She kept all of them. They are beautiful. Her husband Ross had a poetic streak in him. While the bullets were flying, he wrote of his devotion to her and how she was the light and hope of his life. I remember one line, ‘As long as the sky is blue, I will still be loving you.’

Samantha raised her rifle. “Two inches from that rabbit,” she said.

In the distance, a rabbit had hopped onto the firing range. Samantha pulled the trigger. The noise echoed through the trees. The bullet pinged into the ground about two inches from the rabbit, who took off running.

“Very good,” Mary said.

“I must admit Elliot is not the poetic type. Don’t think he has much poetry in his soul. He didn’t write much about literature. But he did write that he has some thousands of acres on his ranch where he raises cattle and has a few horses too. I mentioned in my letter that I ride, and he says he has a gold and white gelding that would be perfect for me.”

“Sounds like he’s a bit more practical than poetic,” Mary said.

“Well, practical is a good thing. I don’t want a guy who runs off and does irrational stunts. I think practical is a good trait. Plus, he enclosed a picture, a black-and-white sketch, and he is not bad looking. He definitely is not ogre-ugly.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“Almost anything would be better than here. Prospects are slim, and the one or two men I might have an eye for don’t want anything to do with me. Men in this town like women to stay in the kitchen and cook, and stay in the house and clean. I don’t mind doing either of those activities. I like to cook, and I don’t like dust in the house, but I like to ride and shoot. I like the wind blowing through my hair when I’m riding. I like the sense of speed and strength. Horses are wonderful animals. I like being on one. I think my mail order husband liked that when I wrote him.”

Mary smiled. “That is a good-sized ranch, and the financial prospects here are not good.” She shook her head. “The war devastated this land, and it hasn’t recovered. The West, so I hear, is full of economic opportunities, as well as outlaws, bloodthirsty redskins, ruthless gamblers and drunks falling down in muddy streets.”

“Don’t believe everything you read in the dime store novels, Mary. I doubt they are realistic.”

Mary lowered her rifle. “All right, Samantha, let’s totally ignore the dime novels. Let’s be realistic. I admit this town is a dead end. It’s harder for you than almost anyone else because you are…well, you stand out from other women in this town. They are true Southern Belles. They can be tough, and the war taught them to bear hardships, so they have an inner strength. They lived through the war, and all the hardship and misery war brings. You are as tough as they are, but you do stand out among the crowd.”

Samantha laughed. “And that’s one reason the men around her avoid me. The other is…” she held up the rifle. “This. I shoot better than they do. You know that makes many men feel uneasy.” She flipped the rifle. “However, what is a disadvantage here may be an advantage in the West.”

“Yes, but Sam, you don’t know anyone in Colorado. You have the letter of a man who wants a wife. But is he telling the truth in those letters? You know no one in…what’s the name of that town again?”

“Elk Junction.”

“Elk Junction. He sent you a picture, but it could be a picture of anyone. You will be at least a thousand miles from home, with no friends and no one to trust. If he has lied to you, what can you do? Do you have money to get back home? Would you stay in Colorado? And do what? The West may have opportunities, but I’m sure it’s a hostile place for single women. You will be totally, absolutely alone, Mary said.

Samantha fingered the small silver cross around her neck. Her voice became gentle. “’I lift my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help cometh from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.’ And I understand there are mighty big hills out there in Colorado.”

“Sam, I like Rev. McBride too. I think he’s one of the finest ministers I ever heard. I’m touched by his life story.  He’s one of the many people who converted during the war. I was moved when he gave his testimony one Sunday. But his story doesn’t change the facts in your case. This is a dramatic and dangerous step for  you.”

“But a step that must be taken,” Samantha said. “As you noted, this town is a dead end. And I can’t come back. Let’s be honest. My family doesn’t want me. My father has given me enough money to Colorado, but not enough to return. It’s a one-way trip. I have to burn my bridges behind me.” She fingered the cross. “So pray the Lord is with me.”

“I will.”

The two women hugged.

“Write to me,” Samantha said.

“I sure will.”

Chapter Three

The servant eased the plate of steak and ranch eggs before Novak, who sat at the long dining table covered with a white cloth. A similar plate was slid before Holden, who picked up a fork.

“This is fine eating, Mr. Holden; I thank you,” Novak said.

“It’s the least I could do for you. Without you, we could have seen bloodshed at the little morning dispute we had,” Holden said. “And please call me Elliot. Due to what you did out there, I now consider you a friend.”

“That goes both ways, Elliot.”

Novak picked up his fork and knife and cut into the steak. He spread salt and pepper over the meat.

“What would you like to drink. We have some fine liquor here, or water if you like.”

Novak smiled. “It’s a bit early in the day for a drink, but after the morning action, I might take a whiskey.”

“Aaron, a whiskey for Mr. Novak.” The servant nodded and walked to the kitchen.

“I’d also like to say this is a magnificent house. Haven’t seen many houses as nice as this one.”

“My father build it, and I added on. It’s a big house for one man, but I hope to have a wife soon.”

The two-story structure dominated the landscape. Novak noted the dining room was spotless. He had walked through the living room that was filled with the finest furniture from the east. The stairs leading to the second floor were dust-free also. Any rancher who could afford at least two servants had money, Novak knew, and he suspected there were other servants he hadn’t seen. He forked a slice of the steak.

“May I ask you what exactly was going on back there, Elliot? There seemed to be a few undercurrents that I didn’t catch.”

A servant walked up and placed a cup of coffee before Holden. Another put a glass of whiskey before Novak.

“Thanks to my father who built this ranch and spent forty years doing it, I have forty thousand acres of land, most of which is in cattle, but I also grew some hay on a few thousand acres.”

“Hay to feed the cattle?”

“Yes, that way I don’t have to depend on anyone else to feed my herd. Sometimes suppliers are slow or deliver an inferior product or go out of business. If I grow my own, I don’t have to worry about that.”

Novak chewed on some eggs. He was a gambler. He could read men at a poker table, but he could also make shrewd judgments about them on the street or at a dining room table.  He had noticed Holden didn’t carry a gun but that didn’t indicate weakness to him.  To him, it indicated Holden was his own man, an individual true to his own moral code. He also thought Holden was a modest man. He was sure the man’s father had built a large ranch, but he thought some of the credit belonged to Holden himself. Holden was simply a man who didn’t like to brag on himself.

“I’m taking a guess you don’t have good neighbors,” Novak said.

“Ben Thames may have given you a bad first impression, but he’s a reasonable man. We’ve known one another for years.”

“I have a feeling, Elliot, that you are a man who believes the best about his fellow men.”

Holden nodded. “I try too. Ben Thames knew my father for many years, and they got along. He was like my father in more ways than one. He came out here when there was practically nothing, and he build a ranch, faced all the hazards of the West, including renegade Indians and established a ranch. He helped build Elk Junction.”

Novak sipped his drink. “And there’s a dispute about the ownership of the land we were on this morning.”

“Not really. That ranch is part of the Bar H ranch. Ben thinks he’s found some documents that indicate it belongs to him. I don’t think his argument will hold up in court, but I agree to let him use it until the case is heard, which will not be for about a month.” Holden paused. “I can see by your face you don’t agree with my decision.”

“Not one bit. I shouldn’t give advice to a man who built such a fine house and ranch, and I don’t doubt that Thames is one of those determined men who faced the challenges of a new land and overcame them. That means he’s a strong man, and he’s pushing you. But if he pushes, and you relent, he’ll keep pushing. Better to stand now than to fight later. But who is the man Trowbridge? I heard his name this morning.”

Holden gave as much as a frown as Novak thought he could. A man who thinks only good thoughts about his neighbors doesn’t like to frown.

“You put your finger on the problem here. The Bar H is in the middle of a dispute. I have Ben Thames with his big ranch on the east, and Dan Trowbridge also has a big ranch, and he’s on my west. Those two men do not get along, although a more honest way of saying that would be they hate one another, and that hatred has been building for years. I’m afraid it’s about to burst open.”

“And if it does, you’re right in the middle.”

Holden nodded. “I’ve tried to, and for the most part have maintained cordial relations with both of them, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Think that may be difficult,” Holden said as he munched the steak. “I’m guessing they will soon want, or demand, you take a side.”

“Which I am not going to do,” Holden said, firmly. “I am not going to be involved in their fights.”

“I hope you’re right. I hope you can avoid it. But when a ranch hires a man like Snake, it’s preparing for a fight. I think you’re looking at a range war, Elliot.”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent such a thing. I know both men and both can be bullheaded, but both are intelligent. They know no one wins a range war. It could destroy the whole valley.”

“But you said the two hate one another. Sometimes hate can overrule logic and common sense.”

Holden picked up his coffee cup. “I hope I – and perhaps Pastor Hagin, he’s the minister of the town church – can help me stop any violence.”

Novak sipped more of the whiskey. “I wouldn’t be optimistic about that. But I’m glad you’re working with a pastor. You will need divine intervention. If there’s a war, it’s going to spill over on this ranch; I suggest you hire a man like Snake.”

“Never. Never. A man like that will never set foot on this ranch.”

Novak forked the last bit of steak and ate it.

“You probably think I’m a fool,” Holden said.

“No, I think you are an honorable man, Elliot,” Novak said as he sipped the last of his drink. “The problem is, the West has a lot of honorable men under tombstones in the local cemetery. There’s always room for one more.”

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“Amidst a Vicious Range War” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Feeling isolated and alone in Mississippi, Samantha decides to answer a mail-order bride ad from a rancher in Colorado. But when she arrives, she realises that he failed to mention a very important detail… His ranch stands directly between two feuding cattle barons who hate one another and their animosity threatens to engulf the entire region in a range war! Will the assertive Samantha lose her vigor when the daggers are drawn?

Holden never meant to stand in the middle of a vicious rivalry. But after the death of his young love a year ago, it seems that his troubles are far from over. He has tried to be a peacemaker in the past and that puts him in danger of becoming a target for both rivals. To make matters worse, cattle keep turning up dead and tensions are rising… It’s only a matter of time before gunfire is exchanged and Holden is bound to be pressured to choose sides. Can he and Samantha cooperate to defend their ranch from a dangerous and inevitable range war?

Range wars, hostilities, mysterious characters and Comanche warriors are only a few of the dangers lurking around them, on the wild Western land. Will Holden and Samantha be able to overcome their differences and put on a united front in order to survive amidst this range war?

An action-packed story of rivalry and love, featuring mysterious characters who all play their part in these impossible situations that the protagonists have to face. A must-read for fans of Western action and romance.

“Amidst a Vicious Range War” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

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