Flying Bullets in Devil’s Territory (Preview)

Prologue

Randy Younger, a short, dark-haired man, jerked back his head to tighten the mule’s reins that he had looped over his head. “Whoa, Bella! Whoa, I say!”

The brown mule switched her tail to shoo away a horsefly as she stopped pulling in the traces.

The man pulled out a bandana from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead to keep it from dripping into his eyes. Spotting movement to his right, he glanced back at the cabin to see his sister Ruth step outside.

“Are you done plowing for the day, Randy,” Ruth yelled across the hard-packed barren yard, which she kept raked and weeded.

“Yup, and I’ll tell you what, Sis, ifin you take Bella to the barn, I’ll take my fishing pole and go down to the creek and catch us a mess of fish for supper.”

“I ain’t cleaning no fish; you know how I hate scaling fish. I get those dang scales in my hair.”

Randy chuckled, “Don’t worry, none, Sis. I’ll clean what I catch; you just fry them up.”

“Then it’s a deal,” the red-haired young woman said as she walked across the freshly plowed field.

Randy smiled as his sister approached. They had scraped together all their family’s savings and forged their way west after their parents had died in a carriage accident. Randy didn’t miss Boston; however, he sometimes thought that Ruth did miss the city, not that she ever complained.

“Be sure to water Bella and give her a feedbag of oats; she worked hard today and deserves it.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Randy. You know how fond I am of Bella,” Ruth said.

“Yup, you are fond of everything that walks on four legs, Sis,” Randy teased as he headed for the barn to fetch his fishing pole.

When Randy reached the barn, he pulled his gun belt off the peg beside the door and strapped on the Walker Colt. The massive Colt pulled at his side, but he had become accustomed to the feel and felt only partially dressed without his revolver.

“You need your pistol to go fishing?” Ruth teased, knowing that whenever they ventured far from the house, they both wore pistols.

“Yup, I might happen up on a rattlesnake or a Ute Injun even,” Randy said.

“The Injuns ain’t on the warpath and haven’t been for some time,” Ruth said as she led Bella past her brother on her way to the barn.

“Well now, Sis, that’s the thing about redskins; they are unpredictable,” Randy said.

“Randy, you know you are taking your revolver down to the creek because you like wearing a pistol the same as me.”

Randy didn’t respond as he headed for the creek that lay beyond a big stand of Ponderosa pines because his sister had hit the nail on the head; he liked wearing the heavy Colt.

The towering Ponderosa pines had survived his ax because of their colossal size. And Randy didn’t regret leaving the majestic pines standing. He enjoyed looking at them from his bedroom window the first thing in the morning.

Unlike most log cabins, Randy had built a three-room cabin instead of the traditional single room. And the extra work had been worth the effort as he and Ruth needed their own private space.

As he approached the pines, Randy thought he saw movement. He shrugged it off as a possible mule deer. He often spotted mule deer in the pines and had even shot a few; nothing tasted better than a backstrap of venison roasted over the red coals in the fireplace.

Halfway through the pines, Randy suddenly got the feeling that something or someone was following him. He paused and put his hand on the hilt of his Walker Colt and stopped to look from tree to tree. Seeing nothing, he started walking again, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that he had worked so hard in the blazing sun that his mind must be playing tricks on him.

At the sudden swooshing sound of something flying through the air, Randy dropped his hand to the hilt of his Walker Colt. The pain in his head lasted only a blink before Randy plunged into darkness. He woke briefly and realized someone had placed a burlap sack over his head and tied him across the back of a horse. He remained conscious only a few minutes before the darkness returned.

Chapter One

“Noah, quit practicing your quick draw and come help me hitch the mule to the wagon. I swear you spend more time fooling around with that Army Colt than you do working,” Isaiah shouted from the shed.

Noah twirled the revolver back into his holster as he headed toward the shed that kept feed for the horses, pigs, and chickens dry. Noah and Isaiah farmed their two homesteads from a cabin they had built on Noah’s homestead.

“You are going to be thanking me when I save you from the witches that are snatching folks from these parts,” Noah said as he walked into the shed.

Like the cabin, they had built the shed out of Ponderosa pine logs. Someday, Noah figured he and Isaiah would have to build a barn since they had almost run out of room in the shed.

Isaiah shook his head. “Don’t start about witches again. That’s all I hear from you these days, and you should know better; there ain’t no such thing as witches!”

“Then what is snatching folks from Willow Bend? The Utes ain’t been on the warpath for, well I don’t recall the last time they left the reservation,” Noah said as he grabbed the mule’s bridle and put the bit in her mouth.

“Well, it dang sure ain’t witches abducting folks,” Isaiah said and shook his head. “We don’t look alike or think alike, heck sometimes I wonder if we are even brothers.”

Noah chuckled. “I’m glad we don’t look alike as you look like a walking barrel. The women go for my blond hair, slim figure, and my height. They don’t want a short, dark-haired man that reminds them of a bloated Ute.”

“I don’t look like a Ute Injun; I look French, like Pa,” Isaiah said. “And girls like me plenty.”

“Yeah, tell me the last time you talked to a girl in Willow Bend? Tell me?”

Isaiah didn’t respond.

“See, you can’t.”

“I ain’t a flirt like you, Noah,” Isaiah finally said as he backed up the mule and hitched her to the wagon. “I see you sweet-talking Ruth Younger every chance you get in town.”

“I ain’t sweet-talking her; I’m just passing the time of day with her. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, Isaiah.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but Noah hadn’t thought anyone had noticed that he had taken a shine to the redheaded girl. Heck, they barely said two words when they happened to be in the feed and seed store at the same time.

“Are you ready, Noah, or do you want to stay home and practice your quick draw while you pretend you are a gunslinger?” Isaiah asked.

“You are more irritating than a boil on my butt, Isaiah,” Noah snapped as he climbed into the wagon seat. “And why is it that you always drive the wagon?”

“I’m the oldest, and I don’t fall asleep on the road. What in the heck do you do at night, search for witches?” Isaiah asked and snickered.

“I read the Bible,” Noah said.

“Lier, you are reading dime novels,” Isaiah accused.

Noah didn’t respond; his thoughts had turned to the scary occurrences of folks suddenly going missing the past few months. He had racked his brain to figure out who or what was snatching folks off the street in Willow Bend. And folks would ride out of Willow Bend to visit friends and relatives in Black Rock and never return. Noah shook his head; it had to be devil-worshiping witches.

“Why are you shaking your head,” Isaiah asked, staring suspiciously at his brother.

Noah sighed, “No reason.” Then his face lit up. “What do you say about stopping in the Red Slipper Saloon for a couple of drinks? It is Saturday.”

Isaiah shrugged. “I reckin we can afford a couple of drinks.”

“That’s also a difference between us, Isaiah. You like beer, and I like whiskey,” Noah said.

Isaiah shook his head. “You just drink whiskey because the outlaws and lawmen in your dime novels drink whiskey.”

“I don’t like beer because it tastes like horse piss,” Noah said as he spotted the church steeple of Willow Bend.

The town got its name from the Willow Bend River upon whose banks the town had been build. Although farms dotted the area around the river, the town lived off cattle ranchers and miners working the mines in the nearby mountains.

“Where to first,” Isaiah asked.

“The Red Slipper,” Noah said.

“Hmm, you just want to get a few under your belt so you have enough courage to ask Ruth’s brother if you can come a-courting at their farm,” Isaiah said and laughed.

“That ain’t true!” Noah said and fell silent as Isaiah drove the wagon down the main street. Noah touched his fingers to his tan felt hat when they passed other wagons, even if he didn’t recognize the folks.

“Don’t park the wagon in front of the saloon, Isaiah,” Noah said.

“What are you ashamed for folks to know that you are a farmer and not a rancher?”

“I ain’t ashamed of being a farmer,” Noah said.

“Then I am going to park the wagon in front of the saloon,” Isaiah said. “I walked enough today plowing the river bottom field.”

Noah shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said as he heard the lively piano music drifting from the saloon. He and Isaiah seldom visited the Red Slipper as neither one were big drinkers or poker players. They only visited the saloon to treat themselves to a bit of entertainment.

The piano player wasn’t the only performer in the Red Slipper. The big bosomed saloon girls often did the cancan on Saturday nights. Both Noah and his brother were God-fearing men, but neither saw anything wrong with having a drink while watching girls kick their legs so high that they showed their petticoats.

Noah didn’t see a cancan show in progress; however, he did spot several saloon girls wearing dresses cut low enough to make him blush. Noah didn’t look away when he passed several girls despite his reddening face as he followed Isaiah to the bar.

“What will it be, fellows,” Tom, the bartender, asked when they finally reached the bar.

“Beer,” Isaiah said.

“Whiskey for me,” Noah added.

“How is everything on the farm?” Tom asked as he took pride in remembering his customers.

“Planting time is approaching. We’ve got more work than we can handle,” Isaiah said as Tom sat a glass of beer in front of him.

“Tom,” a wrangler standing next to Noah called out in a loud tone. “You should serve pig farmers at the back door, so we don’t have to smell them.”

“Johnny Mack, you are drunk. Don’t start no ruckus with the brothers. They ain’t done you no harm,” Tom said.

“Yup, they have. They are standing next to me,” Johnny Mack said. He glanced at Noah, “Heck, the farmer is even wearing an iron,” he added and snickered. “Son, be careful and don’t shoot yourself in the foot with that Army Colt.”

The Army Colt appeared in Noah’s hand as though by magic as he pressed the barrel under Johnny Mack’s chin. “Ain’t you had enough to drink, Pard?” Noah asked.

Johnny Mack glanced across the bar at the bartender; Tom shrugged and walked over to serve a man with his glass raised over his head.

Johnny Mack took a deep breath, “Yup, I’ve had enough to drink, I reckin. I best head back to the bunkhouse,” the wrangler said as he pushed off from the bar.

Isaiah shook his head. “Noah, I can’t believe you drew on the man? What if he had pulled his pistol too? Drink up, we are leaving, and I ain’t coming in with you again ifin you are wearing the pistol,” Isaiah said as he counted out the money and laid it on the bar.

Once outside, Noah stopped on the porch. “I’ll walk over to the feed store. I want to look in the stores’ windows.”

“Why, you ain’t got no money?” Isaiah said.

“It don’t cost nothing to look, now go on over, I’ll meet you there,” Isaiah said, hoping Isaiah hadn’t seen Ruth Younger walking toward the sheriff’s office. Now might be a good time to jaw a bit with Ruth since I don’t see Randy with her, Noah thought as he walked past the wagon and headed across the street.

Chapter Two

Ruth woke with a start and lifted her head from the pine plank table that smelt of turpentine. “RANDY!

She pushed back the rough-hewed straight-back chair Randy had made from Ponderosa pine branches and cowhide and rushed to Randy’s bedroom door. “Randy, are you in there?” Ruth shouted before she opened the door to find the bed’s covers still undisturbed.

Ruth had fallen asleep at the table waiting for Randy to return from the creek where he had gone fishing late yesterday. She hadn’t started worrying until after dark, always expecting him to step through the door carrying a string of fish. She had the flour and frying pan filled with lard awaiting his catch.

An hour after dark, it had dawned on Ruth that something was very amiss. Randy would never have stayed at the creek so late, even under the light of a full moon. First, she walked outside and called out his name until she became too hoarse to shout. Then she had paced the length of the cabin, wringing her hands anxiously for hours before finally sitting down at the table and laying her head down.

And now it was daybreak, and Randy still hadn’t returned. Ruth couldn’t go searching for Randy in the dark, but now she could. She walked over, lifted her gun belt from a peg, and strapped it around her waist. Ruth had grown accustomed to wearing the pistol on the wagon train as she and Randy headed west on the dangerous Oregon Trail. They had settled in the rugged Idaho Territory, west of the Salmon River. The Utes had revolted and started attacking settlers, so Ruth had continued to wear the pistol whenever she ventured far from the cabin.

Ruth paused to check the load in her .31 caliber Colt Baby Dragoon. She would be the first one to tell you she wasn’t a sharpshooter, but Ruth usually managed to shoot what she shot at, even if it wasn’t the exact spot she had aimed for. The little pistol didn’t have the range of the full-sized Colt Dragoon, but for personal protection, it fitted Ruth’s needs. It would kill a rattlesnake, an animal, or Ute Injun.

Knowing the path that Randy would take to the creek, Ruth trotted instead of walking. She didn’t have to worry about brambles snagging her skirt since she wore dungarees. She hadn’t worn a skirt or dress except for going to church since Boston.

When Ruth reached the stand of Ponderosa pines, she slowed to a walk, and then she stopped when she spotted Randy’s makeshift fishing pole lying beside the trunk of one of the towering pines. She rushed over and picked up the pole. “He never made it to the creek,” Ruth mumbled as she searched the pine straw for signs of a struggle. She didn’t find the needles disturbed enough to suggest a struggle, only the indentions in the pine straw made from boots.

Ruth had hunted with Randy and picked up a few tracking tricks from her brother. One of her brother’s tricks was to circle an area when he had shot a mule deer to pick up its tracks whenever he lost its spoor. So she walked a circle around the huge pine, finding nothing; she kept widening the circle until she finally spotted tracks left by horses. In the needles, she couldn’t tell if the horses had been shoed or not.

Ruth followed the horse tracks a way before they petered out completely at the creek. She never got a decent imprint of the horses’ hooves; Ruth hated to think that Utes had taken her brother, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see why white men would abduct Randy.

Finally giving up, Ruth returned to the farm and saddled a black Morgan mare that she called Midnight. Not knowing what else to do, she headed the five miles through the junipers and pines to Willow Bend to see Sheriff Myers. All the way along the rutted wagon track that led to town, Ruth racked her brain to try to figure out if someone in the area had a beef against her brother but couldn’t think of a soul; everyone liked Randy.

As Ruth approached the sheriff’s office, she didn’t see his horse, a bay gelding, at the hitching post and hoped it only meant that the sheriff hadn’t brought his horse from the livery stable yet. Since Sheriff Myers lived in Willow Bend, he boarded his horse at the livery stable.

Ruth crossed her fingers that she would find the sheriff in his office as she climbed the two steps to the narrow porch.

The door opened—a good sign.

“Hello, Miss,” an old man with a white tobacco-stained beard greeted Ruth.

“Where’s the sheriff? I need to see him. My brother is missing,” the words rushed out.

“He ain’t here, Miss. He rode over to Tendoy. I reckin he won’t return for a few days. Anything I can help you with?”

“No! I’m good at sweeping floors already,” Ruth snapped. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, my brother Randy got snatched, and I’m upset.”

The old man let out a chuckle. “I’ve got thick skin; it comes with age.”

“Sorry,” Ruth said again before she turned and hurried out the door.

“Ruth!”

Ruth glanced in the street and spotted Noah Bradshaw walking toward her.

“You looked worried, is something wrong?” Noah asked.

“Yup, everything is wrong. Randy is missing, and the sheriff is out of town for a couple of days. And I don’t know what to do!”

“Wait, slow down. You are talking too fast for me to follow. What’s this about your brother missing?”

“Noah, Randy went down to White Water Creek to go fishing late yesterday afternoon and never returned. I waited up all night for him. I’m worried sick!”

“Ah, maybe he sneaked away to town to meet up with his girlfriend or have a drink, and well, things happen in the Red Slipper . . .”

Ruth shook her head violently. “Randy doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he don’t drink! Anyway, I found his fishing pole and horse tracks in the stand of Ponderosa pines near the creek. Someone abducted him; I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe witches abducted him to perform some ritual,” Noah said.

“Don’t be silly, Noah. There ain’t no such thing as witches. Where did you get that nonsense?”

“It . . . It’s in the Bible,” Noah said.

“No, it ain’t,” Ruth snapped.

“Deuteronomy 18:9–12 talks about enchanters or witches,” Noah said smugly.

Ruth shook her head. “I don’t care what’s in the Bible. I don’t believe in witches. And the ones that abducted Randy weren’t riding broomsticks but horses!”

“Okay, maybe you are right, and outlaws abducted Randy,” Noah replied quickly. “I’ll help you search for him.”

Ruth wrinkled her nose, “Have you been drinking?”

“Isaiah and I stopped by the Red Slipper for one drink. He’s over at the feed and seed store. Let’s go over and tell him about Randy. He’ll help us search for him.”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” Ruth said as she softened her tone.

“I don’t want to get you riled again, but have you considered that he met some pards and accompanied them to Willow Bend?” Noah said.

“Randy wouldn’t do that to me. He would have stopped by the house to tell me,” Ruth declared.

Noah held up his hand. “It was just a thought. You know your brother much better than I do. So why don’t we mosey over to the feed store and jaw about this with Isaiah.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ruth said.

Ruth would have been thrilled to jaw with Noah at any other time as she had always found him handsome and charming on the occasions when they had run into each other in the feed store. However, now she cast all romantic thoughts of the tall blond man from her mind and focused on Randy.

“ . . . Other folks have gone missing from the area,” Noah was saying.

“Really,” Ruth said. “Ah, I ain’t paid much attention about the happenings in Willow Bend.”

“Well, if you had, you would know that folks have gone missing every month or so. Some folks ride out of town to visit a rancher or farmer and never return. Others come to town and disappear into thin air,” Noah said as they walked side by side up the street. “It’s a huge mystery.”

“Why hasn’t Sheriff Myers done anything about it?” Ruth demanded. “He’s the law in Willow Bend. It’s his responsibility to keep folks safe.”

“It’s hard to defend against witches!” Noah said.

Ruth stopped. “If the word witch or witches comes out of your mouth again, I’ll continue the search without you, Noah!”

“Okay, okay, I won’t say witches again . . . oops.”

Ruth shook her head and continued walking.

“Ah, when did you start wearing a pistol,” Noah said as he seemed to notice that Ruth wore a gun belt for the first time.

“Since Randy went missing,” Ruth said. “I don’t wear my pistol to town since Randy wears his. Randy says folks don’t want to see a woman packing a revolver because it makes them nervous.”

“He’s right . . . Ah, I didn’t mean that you packing a pistol makes me nervous,” Noah said, stumbling over the words like a schoolboy trying to read out loud in front of his classmates.

Ruth didn’t respond except to shake her head.

“That’s our wagon,” Noah said and pointed to a wagon loaded with feed sacks as they approached the feed store.

The door to the store opened, and Isaiah walked out; he took one look at Noah and shook his head. “You wait until I have loaded the wagon to show up,” Isaiah suddenly realized the Ruth and his brother had walked to the store together. “Hello, Ruth,” he said. “Hmm, I see why you are late, Noah.”

“Ruth’s brother is missing. Someone abducted him on his way to White Water Creek to go fishing,” Noah said quickly.

“What?” Randy asked. “Someone abducted Randy?” He glanced at Ruth, “Are you sure?”

“He left to go down to the creek and didn’t come home. This morning I went looking for him and found his fishing pole in the pines just before the creek. I also found horse tracks but couldn’t tell if they were shoed or not,” Ruth said.

“Did you tell Sheriff Myers?” Isaiah asked.

“He’s out of town for a few days,” Ruth said with a deep sigh. “Isaiah, I’m worried sick. It ain’t like Randy to just run off without a by your leave.”

Isaiah nodded. “Nope, it ain’t.” He nodded at Noah. “I guess my younger brother has been filling your head with his idea that it’s witches snatching folks for their blood rituals.”

Ruth smiled. “Yup, of course. I dismissed that idea out of hand, but now I’m open to any possibility after Noah told me that other folks have gone missing from Willow Bend.”

“Yeah, well, Noah gets a lot of his wild ideas from reading dime novels, so don’t put too much stock in his theories,” Isaiah said.

“I didn’t get my theory that witches are behind folks disappearing from no dime novel, Isaiah. I got it from the Bible,” Noah said. He glanced at Ruth. “I’m sorry, I promised not to say witches again, but Isaiah brought it up first.”

“Have you asked folks around Willow Bend if they have seen Randy?” Isaiah asked.

“No, I just got to town. I went over to the sheriff’s office and met Noah when I came out of the office.”

“Maybe you should go in the feed store and ask around? Charley knows everything that goes on in Willow Bend. He might have heard something,” Isaiah said and glanced at Noah, “It’s getting late; we should be getting home and feed the livestock.”

“Ah, you go ahead. I’ll stay and help Ruth find Randy,” Noah said.

“No, you don’t have to stay and help,” Ruth said but didn’t put much force into the denial.

“Okay, but how are you going to get home?” Isaiah asked.

“He can borrow Randy’s horse,” Ruth said, secretly glad to have Noah’s help.

“Sure, you should help Ruth.  Ruth, I wish I could help you search for Randy, but I have to feed and water the animals,” Isaiah said as he tipped his derby hat and climbed into the wagon seat as Ruth and Noah watched. “You two be careful; it seems that folks around the area aren’t safe no more,” Isaiah said before he slapped the reins against his mule’s back, causing the wagon to lurch forward.

Ruth glanced at Noah. “I feel guilty keeping you from your chores,”

“You don’t have to feel guilty; Isaiah is capable of handling the farm without me.”

Ruth nodded. “Okay, then let’s go into the feed store and jaw with old Charley about Randy.”

“Hmm, don’t let him hear you call him old,” Noah said.

“Nope, never,” Ruth said as she headed for the door.

Chapter Three

Noah felt guilty about feeling happy being with Ruth as he followed her into the feed store. Noah had often thought about Ruth over the past few months and wondered how he would ever get around to spending time with her. He just didn’t want her missing brother to be the cause of bringing them together.

Noah hung back as Ruth approached the counter. Old Charley Goodman was an ornery soul to do business with, but a gentleman when dealing with women customers.”

“Mister Goodman, how are you?” Ruth asked.

Noah cringed upon hearing Ruth’s question. Old Charley had the reputation of jawing endlessly about his ill health to anyone that would listen.

“Poorly, Miss Younger, very poorly, my back is killing me from lifting feed sacks, my ankles are swollen, my arthritis keeps me awake nights . . .”

“Have you seen my brother lately, Mister Goodman? He’s gone missing,” Ruth said, cutting off the old man.

Charley cocked his head to the side. “Missing, what do you mean by missing?” he asked as he ran his finger through his thin white hair. “Tell me about it?”

“Randy took his fishing pole and headed for White Water Creek, but he never made it to the creek. I found his fishing pole and horse tracks nearby in the stand of Ponderosa pines between the farm and the creek,” Ruth explained.

“Injun ponies?” Charley asked.

Ruth shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. Have you heard anyone say they’ve seen him last night or this morning?”

“No, something isn’t right. A lot of other folks have gone missing. I think it started about a year ago,” Charley said.

“Why hasn’t Sheriff Myers done anything about the disappearances?” Noah asked.

“He’s been trying to find out who is behind the disappearances, but the abductors don’t leave any clues,” Charley said as he shook his head. “Some folks think it’s Injuns, other say it’s a covenant of witches, myself I don’t believe either. I think it’s outlaws robbing folks and killing them and dumping the bodies.”

Ruth put her hand over her mouth, “Oh no!”

Noah took a deep breath, “What makes you think it’s outlaws?”

The old man looked stumped for a moment, “Someone is robbing folks of their pistols and valuables and dumping their bodies. Some dirt-poor outlaws are behind the abductions; I’m sure of it,” Charley declared.

“Come on, Ruth, we’ve wasted enough of Mister Goodman’s time; he’s a busy man,” Noah said.

“Oh, thank you kindly, Mister Goodman, and if you see anyone that has seen my brother, please let me know,” Ruth said before hurrying to where Noah waited for her at the door.

“He wasn’t no help,” Noah said as they walked onto the porch.

“No, he was helpful,” Ruth said. “I know now that Randy didn’t come to town and get drunk or something worse. If what you say about the old man knowing everything that goes on in Willow Bend is true.”

“The old coot is the biggest gossip in town; he’s like a newspaper of who’s doing what they shouldn’t be doing,” Noah said. “Ah, why don’t we go and have another look at where you found Randy’s fishing pole. I’m not the best tracker in the world, but I ain’t the worst either.”

Ruth sighed, “Yup, that’s a good idea. Maybe a second pair of eyes will see things I missed.”

“Will your mare ride double?” Noah asked.

“Midnight don’t mind carrying two,” Ruth said as they headed back to the hitching post at the sheriff’s office.

“I like that you named your horse. My thought is that only folks that love animals give their horses names,” Noah said as he walked so close to Ruth that he could smell the laundry soap she had used to wash her clothes.

“What the name of your horse?” Ruth asked.

“Buttermilk because of his creamy color,” Noah said.

“That’s a strange name for a horse,” Ruth said.

“I don’t think it’s strange,” Noah said as they reached the hitching post. He found himself getting excited about the thought of sitting so close to Ruth.

“You mount first, Ruth, and then I’ll climb up behind you,” Noah said and then watched as the redhead mounted. “My turn,” Noah called out as he got a running start and vaulted over the hindquarters of the Morgan and landed on her back behind Ruth.

“Hmm, I didn’t know you were a trick rider,” Ruth said as she clicked her tongue to start the mare walking.

Not knowing what to do with his hand, Noah let his arms hang down by his side. “I’m going to get Midnight to trot, so you might want to hold on,” Ruth said.

Noah smiled as he tentatively reached his hands around Ruth’s waist as the mare broke into a trot. Noah couldn’t ever remember enjoying a horse ride as much as he did riding double with Ruth. He hated when they reached the Youngers’ farm.

“We’ll saddle up Randy’s horse. You can borrow it to ride home later and bring it back tomorrow,” Ruth said after Noah slid off the back of Midnight.

“Ah, Ruth, I’ve been thinking that I should stay here on the farm with you until we find out what happened to Randy. Whoever abducted him might return for you. Of course, I’ll sleep in the barn loft and not in the house.”

“I’m not afraid to stay alone,” Ruth said, but she didn’t sound convincing to Noah’s ears.

“No, I couldn’t ask you to stay. I don’t want to impose on you,” Ruth said as she grabbed Randy’s saddle from the barn and headed for the corral.

“Let me carry the saddle,” Noah said as he took the saddle from Ruth. “It ain’t no bother, and neighbors are supposed to help one another in times of need. And this is a time of need for you, Ruth,” Noah added as he placed the saddle on the fence while Ruth fetched a red roan gelding from the corral.

“His name is Red,” Ruth said. “I reckin Randy and I aren’t too imaginative with names.”

“Hmm, he’s a nice horse; it looks like he might have a touch of Canadian Pacer in him,” Noah said as he tossed the saddle onto Red’s back.

Ruth shrugged. “I don’t know that much about horse breeds. You’ll have to ask Randy when we find him.”

Before Noah knew it, Ruth was crying; he started to say a comforting word, but she stopped.

I’m acting like a lady in Boston instead of a homesteader that’s faced the dangers of the Oregon Trail and the hardships of farming.”

Noah shook his head. “There ain’t nothing wrong with letting your emotions go from time to time. It’s good for the soul.”

Ruth wiped her cheeks with the back of her shirt and managed a smile. “Come on, and I’ll show you where I found Randy’s fishing pole,” Ruth said as she mounted Midnight.

Although Red was a fine piece of horseflesh, Noah figured Buttermilk to be the better horse as he followed Ruth away from the farm. Buttermilk carried Quarter Horse and mustang bloodlines. He possessed the speed of a Quarter Horse and the endurance and heart of a bangtail.

As much as he wanted to, Noah didn’t try jawing with Ruth as they totted away from the farm. He liked that Ruth didn’t ride sidesaddle like some of the ladies in town. Noah considered a sidesaddle unpractical and an unnecessary social burden to put on women.

“This is the place. There’s Randy’s fishing pole. I left it where I found it,” Ruth said as she dismounted. She dropped the reins of her mare and walked further into the pines. Noah quickly dismounted and followed her.

“Here’s the horses’ hooves’ imprint in the pine needles,” Ruth called out as she knelt.

“Yup, those are horse tracks for sure, and from the looks of their impressions in the pine needles, I would say the horses were shoed and four of them.”

“What do you make of that?” Ruth asked.

“I think someone has been spying on your farm and waited for Randy to go fishing or leave the house. They brought an extra horse to carry Randy,” Noah said.

“You are a better tracker than you let on,” Ruth said.

Noah smiled. “And if someone spied on your farm, then it’s imperative that I stay with you until I’m sure that whoever abducted Randy isn’t coming for you, Ruth.”

“I’m not going to argue with you anymore. You are welcome to stay at the farm and sleep in the loft,” Ruth said.

“Good, as I don’t want anything to happen to you, Ruth,” Noah said.

Ruth blushed.

Noah noticed the change in the color of her face and hid his smile as he turned and strode toward the horses. “It’s getting late; I think we should get back to the farm,” Noah said. “If you lost the horses’ tracks, that means he waded into the creek. If so, there’s no telling how far he traveled before leaving the creek or even which direction he went.”

“It wasn’t a wasted trip,” Ruth said. “At least we know that whoever abducted Randy had been spying on us.”

“Yup, and it also means that whoever is behind the abduction is selective in who they snatch. And if that’s so, there must be a purpose behind the kidnappings,” Noah said.

“Please tell me you are not going to start about witches again, Noah?” Ruth said.

Noah held up his hands. “I didn’t say the word you did.”

Ruth sighed. “Come on; let’s get back to the house, and I’ll cook up some biscuits, bacon, and eggs.”

“Why don’t I escort you back to your place and then ride over and tell Isaiah that I’ll be staying over at your farm for a few days. I don’t want him to think I got abducted too when I don’t show up tonight. Also, I can fetch Buttermilk,” Noah said.

“That sounds like a fair plan. Just don’t take too long, or you’ll be eating cold biscuits,” Ruth said.

“I bet your cold biscuits are better tasting than Isaiah’s hot biscuits,” Noah said as he mounted Red and waited for Ruth to climb into the saddle.

As they rode through the stand of giant pines, the wind picked up, causing a shower of pine needles to descend upon them. The smell of turpentine caused Noah to wrinkle his nose. Out of the Ponderosa pines, the wind moved the grass in waves like a lake on a windy day.

The Younger farm made Noah realize that he needed to build a barn and a bigger cabin in the future ifin he and Isaiah wanted to expand. Their shed would barely hold their sacks of feed and hay for the horses. They needed a barn like the Younger’s barn.

“You and Randy have a nice barn,” Noah said as they approached the house. “I’m going to have to jaw with Isaiah about building one as our shed is too small.”

“Randy and I will help, well, ifin I ever get my brother back,” Ruth said as they rode up to the barn.

Noah remained on Red as Ruth dismounted. “I want you to get in the house as soon as you finish unsaddling Midnight and lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“But I got chores to do.”

Noah shook his head. “I’ll help you feed the livestock after supper. Heck, they don’t care if they eat in the light of day or after dark,” Noah said. “And don’t take off your gun belt!”

“Noah, why are you going out of your way to help me?” Ruth asked as she glanced up at Noah.

Noah smiled. “Heck, I thought you knew that I had taken a shine to you.”

Ruth shook her head. “Don’t you go getting any funny ideas, Noah Bradshaw,” Ruth called out.

Noah smiled again, “I’ll leave all the funny ideas up to you, Ruth,” he said and whipped Red around and kneed him into a trot before Ruth had time to respond.

I reckin I told her, Noah thought as he urged Red into a gallop. Since the Younger farm lay only a mile from Isaiah and his homesteads, it didn’t take Noah long to reach the farm.

He spotted Isaiah in the chicken coop feeding the chickens when he rode up to the shed.

“How did it go? Did you find any clues to who abducted Randy?” Isaiah asked. “Or did you and Ruth just neck?” he added and chuckled.

“Isaiah, how can you think that? I’m just trying to be helpful,” Noah said as he dismounted.

“Noah Bradshaw, it ain’t like you to be helpful unless there’s something in it for you,” Isaiah said with arched eyebrows.

“Yup, I’ll admit that I like Ruth, well, maybe even more than like her, but I want to help find Randy, and that’s the honest truth.”

“Good, Randy is a good neighbor, and if he and Ruth need our help, we should do whatever it takes to help them,” Isaiah said.

“Hmm, good that you should say that, Isaiah. From looking at the spot where they abducted Randy, I found that the kidnapping had to have been planned. Whoever snatched Randy had to have been watching the farm waiting for a chance to kidnap him.”

“Really, spying on the farm?” Isaiah said.

“Yup, and that’s why I’m going to stay over at the Younger farm so I can protect Ruth in case the kidnappers try to snatch her too.” Noah held up his hand. “And before you make some lewd remark, I’ll be bunking in the loft.”

“Are you sure you ain’t just trying to get out of work?” Isaiah asked.

“I’ll be helping Ruth with the chores around her place, so I won’t be getting out of work; heck, I’ll probably be doing more work over there than here.”

“Fine, I’ll take care of the farm; go and help Ruth. Even ifin I said no, you would still go, wouldn’t you?”

Noah smiled and headed to the corral to fetch Buttermilk.

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“Flying Bullets in Devil’s Territory” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

The only thing missing from Noah Bradshaw’s peaceful farm life is a chance to marry the beautiful Ruth Younger, the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for him… When folks around Willow Bend start mysteriously disappearing, everyone rushes to attribute it to a supposedly cursed cave at the base of Willow Peak. However, when Ruth’s brother vanishes off the face of the earth, followed by Noah’s brother as well, the brave farmer is determined to find them at any cost.

Will Noah manage to get to the bottom of a dark mystery even when all the signs show that he’s signing his own death sentence?

Luckily for him, Noah has Ruth on his side, and together they begin a perilous journey towards a giant mousetrap. It’s not too long before they realize that it’s not witches they must contend with, but ruthless criminals ready to disperse fear and death. From that moment on, it all comes down to one choice; risk it all in order to rescue their brothers and the other prisoners from men who will not hesitate to shoot them on sight.

Serving justice is a risky path full of obstacles…

Outnumbered and outgunned, Noah and Ruth hatch a desperate plan to save their kin. Yet, even before they can put their plan into effect, Noah is called on to show how fast he can draw his pistol. Will Noah and Ruth survive the perilous mission and rescue their loved ones? Will they take down the ruthless figures who want to see the world burn?

A pulse-pounding drama, which will make you turn the pages with bated breath until the very last word. A must-read for fans of Western adventure and romance.

“Flying Bullets in Devil’s Territory” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

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