A Land of Peril and Deceit (Preview)

Chapter One

“Twenty-five dollars…twenty-five a head now, do I hear thirty?” the cattle auctioneer called out.

“Thirty!” an obese man shouted back. His name was Benedict Hughes and he owned the largest spread in Johnson County, Wyoming.

A few dozen ranchers were gathered at an outdoor auction on a clear, cloudless day. One by one, livestock were led into a corral to be viewed and bid on. The men sat on makeshift benches and chairs, while an overturned wooden crate served as a platform for the pot-bellied auctioneer with the booming voice and a Stetson hat.

It was the spring of 1884, and although nobody knew it at the time, this would be the last year of the cattle boom in that great cattle state.

“Thirty-five dollars!” shouted Maynard Rogers in a high, piping voice.

“We have thirty-five dollars, thirty-five a head now…going once, going twice…” the auctioneer sang with a dramatic tone.

Maynard was fifty-four and whip thin. A large handlebar-moustache dominated his skinny, sallow face. He owned the second largest ranch in the county – a position he was not shy to maintain by certain dealings that made no pretense of holding to the letter of the law, let alone its spirit.

“Forty,” Benedict pronounced confidently in his baritone voice. He didn’t expect anyone would go beyond forty dollars a head for cattle, even in the greatest boom the west had ever known. And like everything else, he planned to win this auction.

Maynard shook his head, not willing to bid any higher.

“We have forty dollars, gentlemen. Forty…going once, going…”

“Forty-five dollars!” a young man shouted, causing a murmur of surprise among the ranchers.

“Forty…five…dollars…,” the auctioneer intoned, emphasizing every syllable like a musician playing notes on an instrument. “We have a bid of forty-five.”

He let a dramatic silence settle on the audience. “Do I hear fifty? Fifty dollars?”

Benedict folded his arms over his chest with a scowl and stayed silent.

“Going once, going twice…”

A quick, final scan of the audience and the gavel slammed down onto the top of the crate. “Sold! One thousand head of breeding stock to Bronco Collins of the Flying G Ranch…for forty-five dollars a round.”

Bronco grinned in triumph. At thirty-two-years-old he was co-manager of the third largest ranch in the county.

Yes! We need that breeding stock to take the spread to the next level.

Blue eyes flashing with satisfaction, he ran a finger over his blonde moustache to hide the grin – lest his fellow ranchers think he was gloating.

Got to admit it sure feels good beating Benedict for a change, though.

Bronco looked over at his step-father, Ed Martin, who was sitting next to him.

Ed nodded and smiled. He was going on sixty-three, a tall, broad-shouldered rancher like Bronco; though his hair was now gray and matched the color of his steely eyes.

Sitting there on the benches in front of the auction box, the two of them shook hands.

“Well, well,” a deep voice cackled from behind, “that was a mighty high bid for a small rancher like you to take on, Bronco,” Benedict sneered. “Why would you go and make a dumb move like that now?”

Ed looked at Bronco and could see the fire of anger burning in his eyes.

Bronco sighed. He knew that ignoring the insult would be best course in this situation. There would be other opportunities to respond.

“I sure hope you didn’t go too far out on a limb with that bid,” Benedict continued, standing up behind them. “I mean I’d just hate to see somethin’ bad happen to your operation—God forbid—and poor Ed here lose everything in his old age. That would be one rotten shame, don’t ya think?”

Bronco forced himself to be quiet. After all, it was he—Bronco—who had won the auction, and he knew it was a good investment. This was just Benedict trying to make trouble because he’d lost the bidding.

At forty-three, Benedict’s wide, clean-shaven face was marked by two jolly dimples, one at either side of his mouth. His eyes were anything but jolly, however, small and piercing. They looked out at the world with a defiant glare that challenged all comers.

Seeing no reaction from the two ranchers, he leaned forward and whispered into Ed’s ear—just loud enough for Bronco to hear. “Listen, Ed, anytime you’re ready to sell out, you just let me know…because I think it’s only a matter of time before that stepson of yours drives the whole operation into the ground.”

Bronco jumped to his feet.

“Shut that damned hole of yours, Hughes! We won’t be selling out to you, now or ever. I’d sooner see the place burn to the ground.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Benedict growled, “you just might get it.”

Bronco’s hands tensed into fists at his side as rage welled up within him. But before he could throw a punch, someone grabbed his arm.

“C’mon Bronc, it ain’t worth it. You know that. Let’s just walk away from this,” a gentle voice said. It was Richard Smith, his longtime friend.

Bronco continued staring fiercely into Benedict’s brown-black eyes. “Yeah, Rich, you’re right. This fat old man ain’t worth a punch.” Then he turned away. “C’mon Dad, let’s go.”

As the three of them walked away from the auction, Benedict’s voice boomed out once more. “You heard what I said now, Ed. Anytime you want to sell out just come see me. Do it soon before it’s too late!”

The men ignored him and kept walking.

The big man sat down with a grunt. “You see how much that damned fool bid for those cattle? Huh?” he complained to Earl, the foreman of his ranch.

A pale man with a perpetually sour face, Earl didn’t look at his boss and didn’t reply.

“I think Collins is getting too big for his britches,” Benedict growled. “We should take that punk down a notch or two.”

“Sure thing, boss,” the foreman said, staring at the empty corral.

***

Bronco, Ed and Richard rode back towards Jacksonville after the auction. The prosperous cattle-town had been built on the rolling rangeland of north-east Wyoming; beyond it could be seen the Bighorn mountain range with its snow covered peaks.

Bronco’s anger was still burning as they rode along.  “The nerve of that bastard asking you to sell out to him, Dad…and right in front of me! That was low, even for Benedict.”

“He was just tryin’ to get your goat. You know that, son. Best to just let it slide, like water off a duck’s back.”

“I’m trying, but it ain’t workin’,” Bronco scowled, “I still wanna wring his neck.”

“I know how you feel, but look at it this way—we’ve been building the Flying G slow and steady for years. We’re makin’ good progress, we’re not overgrazing our range like Benedict is. He’s stretched to the limit—over the limit, really—as to how many cattle he can graze. The man knows it. Meantime, he sees our operation catching up to him and Maynard. Bein’ the greedy man he is, it’s got to have him worried.”

“I think you’re right,” Richard said. “Ben’s tapped out for land and damn well knows it. All he can do now is try to force out the smaller outfits if he wants to stay top dog …and with his range being overgrazed like that, he knows he’s runnin’ out of time. The man’s plumb worried!”

Richard Smith was owner-operator of a successful blacksmith shop in Jacksonville. As a result, he knew most of the ranch hands and bosses in the area, and had a good sense of how things stood among the various cattle operations. He was a couple years older than Bronco; married, a stocky, powerfully-built man from years of working iron and swinging a hammer.

“What about his crack about burning the Flying G down?” Bronco asked angrily. “I was ready to clock him one for that until you stepped in, Rich.”

“Take it with a grain of salt, son,” Ed advised. “He’d never do that unless he had to; it would only be a last resort. If Ben tries to drive us out it’s gonna be with our land in good shape, and our buildings and equipment in good shape too. He knows we’ve built the ranch on a solid foundation. The man wouldn’t waste all the hard work we’ve put into it unless he was right desperate.”

“That’s what worries me,” Bronco replied, looking over at his stepfather. “What is a greedy son of a bitch like that capable of doing when he’s desperate? I don’t know…there’s somethin’ in them black eyes that ain’t far from crazy.”

“Gotta say I agree with you there, Bronc,” Richard admitted. “From the stories I hear from the Bar D hands, Ben’s a tyrant these days. You two better watch your back from here on in.”

“Yep,” Ed agreed, “the better the Flying G does, the meaner Benedict and Maynard are likely to get. We need to start takin’ some precautions, Bronc.”

“Well, whatever happens we’re not backing down. We put too much into the G to turn tail and run because a couple bullies got their eyes on it.”

“I’m with ya, son. Just tryin’ to lay out the facts is all. Those two men will stop at nothing to get what they want. Even Maynard— though he keeps to himself pretty much—has done some mighty dirty deals. We got to be ready for whatever they might throw at us.”

“Yes sir, you’re right. And I never felt readier,” Bronco smiled. “If it’s gotta happen then I say bring it on! Meantime, we just bought us a thousand head of the finest breeding stock in Wyoming. They better be lookin’ over their shoulders, ‘cause we’re growing again!”

“Damn straight,” Ed grinned.

Chapter Two

“Oh, Mother!” Carrie Thompson sighed in exasperation, “You know I don’t like social events—especially dances.”

“Margaret says there’ll be a lot of eligible bachelors there, my dear,” Mrs. Thompson said with determination.

“The whole world consists of nothing but eligible bachelors, according to Margaret,” her daughter protested. “She’s boy crazy!”

At twenty-three-years-old, Carrie was already a spinster by the standards of 1884 Wyoming, but she didn’t care. She liked working at the Sourdough Bakery in Jacksonville just fine: running the till, making bread and serving customers. It allowed her a measure of independence from the demands of her parents, who were desperate that she found a husband. Carrie liked men but refused to be rushed into marriage—that is, if there even existed a man who could inspire her to romance.

“Come on, Care,” her father, Sam, said impatiently. “You’re not getting any younger, you know? Do you want to be running that cash register at the Sourdough for the rest of your life?”

“Go ahead and say it, Daddy. You think I’m a spinster, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” he spluttered, nonetheless horrified at the thought of his daughter never marrying.

“You didn’t have to say it. I just know it’s what you think. Well if I was a spinster, at least I could take care of you and mother in your old age.” She smiled at them, trying to take the pressure off.

Sam laughed and looked at his wife. “She’s got a point there, Irma. Carrie could bring us our oatmeal and toast when we’re stuck in our rocking chairs. That would be a pretty good deal, wouldn’t it?”

“Humpf!” Mrs. Thompson sputtered.

“Anyway, I’m off to work now. You two have a good day. Enjoy the dance tonight, little girl.” He got up from the breakfast table and kissed his wife and daughter.

“You never let up, do you Daddy?” Carrie chuckled.

“Nope! And I won’t give up until I walk you down the aisle one day. It’s a father’s duty, after all.” He smiled and left the house with a wave.

“Your father’s right, dear,” Irma said when the door closed behind him. “You really must make an effort sometime. Margaret will be there to help you relax and enjoy the party.”

Carrie sometimes thought that her parents were like tag-team wrestlers. She had once seen an exhibition of the sport at the Johnson County Fair. A square ring made of rope was set up in a field, with two teams of two men competing against each other. When one wrestler got tired of fighting he would signal his partner, who jumped into the ring and took over against their opponent.

This seemed to be Sam and Irma’s approach too. They shared a never-ending fight against their daughter’s spinsterhood. When Sam tired of badgering her to find a man, Irma jumped in, rested and ready for battle.

“Mother, do you realize how Margaret will try to help me relax at the party? By dragging me around and introducing me to every bachelor in the room until I’m a sweaty bundle of nerves. She loves boys too much to miss out on talking to even one of them.”

Margaret Stevens, twenty-years-old and Carrie’s best friend, worked in the restaurant of the Bighorn Hotel—a job that gave her further opportunities to meet eligible men. She loved it.

Although the girls were both attractive, tall brunettes with brown eyes, their personalities could not have been more different. Carrie was shy and introverted but Margaret was the gregarious life of the party. Despite their differences, however, they got along well and had been friends since childhood.

“Margaret means well, dear, you know that,” Irma carried on. “It would make your father and me so happy if you went to a dance for a change. We know it’s difficult for you, but it’s been a long time since you’ve even tried. Please honey, for our sake, why don’t you go tonight?”

Carrie began to get angry. Even for Irma and Sam’s Tag-Team they were laying it on thick this morning.

“You know,” she burst out, “it’s entirely possible that I could be a single woman for the rest of my life, dances or no dances. And I wouldn’t care one whit! What do you think of that? Why can’t you and daddy just accept me for who I am?”

“We do accept you and we care for you, dear. We just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

Yes, of course you do, Carrie thought morosely, shaking her head. But you want me to be happy in the way that you want me to be happy…not the way I want to be happy.

Noticing that it was nearly seven o’clock, she decided to call a retreat. “Okay, Mother. I’ll go to the dance. There, are you satisfied? Can I please go to work already?”

Irma beamed in victory. She wiped her hands on her apron and all but threw both arms into the air and danced around the kitchen. “Of course you can go now! Hurry up though; you’ll be late for work. And thank you so much for making an effort. Your father and I appreciate it so much.”

Carrie rose from the table and stomped out of the Thompsons’ home without another word. It was a small, one-story wooden house in the heart of town, only a few blocks from the bakery.

‘Thank you so much for making an effort,’ Carrie sighed as she walked to work. Good Lord. It’s an effort just to eat breakfast while my arm is getting twisted behind my back with emotional blackmail.

She didn’t know if she’d end up going to the dance. She just felt relieved that round one of today’s tag-team match was over.

It’s always two against one. That’s just not fair. When will I get somebody in my corner too?

Chapter Three

That evening Bronco Collins stood outside Richard’s house in Jacksonville and tapped a few times on the door. He was dressed in the only formal clothes he owned: a black pinstripe suit with matching vest and string-tie. Ornate leather cowboy-boots, shined and spit-polished, were on his feet, and on his head was a brown Stetson, brushed clean for the occasion.

Bronco usually didn’t attend dances more formal than a barn dance, but Richard had insisted it would be good for business if he came to this event, a charity fundraiser for the local arts association.

“What do I know about arts, Rich?” Bronco had asked his friend.

“Nothin’ Bronc, same as I don’t, but a lot of businessmen from the county will be there. An up-and-comin’ rancher like you needs to socialize with ‘em a bit now and again, you know? Besides, you’ll get to show what a fine, upstanding citizen you are by throwin’ some cash into the plate.”

“Ha! Is that why you’re going?”

“Of course, amigo! It’s good for business. Plus the food and the liquor are great at these fancy shindigs.”

Bronco admitted that his friend had a point. Richard’s blacksmith shop had been doing great for years. He respected the man’s business skills and was always glad to learn anything that might be helpful in managing the Flying G.

Now the evening had arrived and Bronco adjusted his string-tie as the front door of the house opened and Richard’s wife Elizabeth stood there, smiling. She was dressed in a lavender formal gown, garnished with white lace. Here and there, glass sequins shimmered in the light. Her blonde hair was pinned up with long, curled strands pulled loose to frame her pretty face.

“Goodness gracious, Elizabeth,” he gawped. “You look amazing! Do women always go all out for these shindigs?”

She grinned at the compliment. “Thank you, Bronco. Yes, well it depends how much a man wants to show everybody that his business is successful. If he’s having a great year, then the lucky wife gets an evening gown like this little number…as long as she promises to show it off to his colleagues.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “I knew Rich was doing well, but I didn’t know he was doing that well!” Elizabeth blushed as he looked her up and down admiringly.

Noticing her embarrassment he switched gears and asked, “Is the iron-tycoon ready to go yet?”

“Yep, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Richard called out as he hurried toward them. He was wearing a new suit that made Bronco’s look dull in comparison.

“Hey! No fair, amigo,” Bronco laughed. “You didn’t tell me you were buying a fancy suit for the occasion. Trying to make me look like your poor cousin or something?”

“Nah, just needed somethin’ sharp to go with Liz’s new dress. Ain’t it great?” Richard beamed, looking at his wife.

“Yes sir,” Bronco agreed. “I was just saying to her that you two must be having a very, very good year.”

***

The three friends walked together to the Bighorn Hotel, the largest hotel in Jacksonville. Opulently appointed by Western standards, it featured a famous crystal chandelier hanging above the lobby. There was a restaurant, ballroom, and a full bar with all the trimmings—except prostitutes. Dance hall girls were strictly forbidden to ply their trade at the Bighorn; although they were welcome to utilize the facilities as a paying customer. The girls didn’t complain, however. Other businesses in town were glad to welcome the Calico Jane trade.

The hotel was so large it didn’t even employ the customary ‘false front’ used in Western buildings. But this made it all the more impressive to citizens, travelers and visitors alike.

The three friends entered through the grand front entrance and went to the ballroom where the fundraiser was being held. Bronco was surprised to see a string quartet on the bandstand. This was a rarity in the West. He chalked the fancy music down to the event being dedicated to the arts association. He had to admit that it was a fitting backdrop to the ladies and gentlemen dressed resplendently for the occasion, though.

After he and Richard had gotten drinks at the bar and brought one over to Elizabeth at their table, they all raised their glasses and drank a toast to the success of the arts in Jacksonville.

“Whatever ‘the arts’ actually are!” Bronco quipped before throwing back a slug of Texas bourbon. “I think it must have something to do with that fancy band sawin’ away over there. Reckon they’re gonna play any reels or jigs tonight?”

“I dunno…” Richard said doubtfully. “You could always make a request, though. I recognize the fiddle player from some local barn dances. He aughta know a few reels! Who knows, if you slip him a couple bucks he might even hop up on a table and call out some steps. Ha!”

Bronco slapped his knee and let out a cheerful guffaw.

“But let’s wait till later for that, Bronc,” Richard continued. “Why don’t ya practice your business skills a bit first; say hello to some of the wheelers and dealers here? This is business too, remember. I’ll introduce you around. Once everyone’s gotten good and liquored up then maybe we’ll dance a few jigs.”

“Deal,” Bronco replied. “Plus I know you got to dance a few waltz’s with Liz first and show off that expensive dress.”

“Bronco!” Elizabeth scolded him good-naturedly.

He took another slug of bourbon and looked around the room. Benedict Hughes was holding court at a large table in the corner, dressed in a tuxedo and surrounded by his henchmen and their wives. Bronco didn’t think there would be any trouble from the fat man on this occasion, seeing as it was all about making a good civic impression, not browbeating one’s competitors.

At the opposite side of the room Maynard Hughes was sitting with a few cowboy cronies. A single man and an avid drinker, Maynard looked like he’d already downed a few whiskeys.   

Bronco saw Margaret Stevens enter the party with a girlfriend…a very pretty girlfriend. Both of them were wearing nice crinoline dresses and he felt an impulse to go over and talk with them.

He noted that their crinoline dresses looked plain compared to the spangled showpieces that the businessmen’s wives had on, but that didn’t bother him one bit. It was understood that those expensive showpieces were simply part of society’s declaring of social status—unlike the barn dances, where no such peacockery prevailed, and no one went overboard trying to impress others with their clothing.

Bronco knew Margaret Stevens from her job waitressing in the Bighorn restaurant. He had chatted her up a few times when he was dining there—and she flirted with him whenever she got the chance. He had never met her friend, however. Standing there side-by-side, the two women looked like sisters or twins. Both were taller than the other women in attendance, and both were strikingly beautiful brunettes.

I wonder if Margaret’s friend is as flirty as she is? Nah, nobody’s as flirty as Margaret. Ha! Her friend sure is pretty, though.

He threw back the last of the bourbon and got up from the table.

“Excuse me, folks,” Bronco said to his friends and walked over to where the women were standing. “Good evenin’, Margaret! Nice to see you outside of the restaurant for a change. That dress looks right pretty on you.”

“Bronco! Good to see you,” Margaret smiled, her face glowing with pleasure from the compliments. “You’re looking very handsome yourself. I’ve never seen you in a suit before.”

“Yeah, you know, these duds are reserved pretty much for weddings and funerals. But Rick dragged me out to this fancy shindig so I dusted ‘em off. Don’t believe I’ve met your friend here before.” He gazed appreciatively at Margaret’s friend and she blushed.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Carrie Thompson. Meet Bronco Collins—one of the largest ranchers in Johnson County.”

He extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you Ms. Thompson.”

Carrie grasped his big hand gingerly. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Collins. You don’t look that large at all, really.”

“Ha! Good one. Please call me Bronco, everybody else does.”

Carrie smiled and nodded…then fell silent.

Bronco was puzzled and wondered if the girl already had a boyfriend or she just wasn’t interested in talking to him. He had noticed right away, however, that there was no wedding ring on her finger.

Maybe some kind of speech impediment? What a shame. She’s such a pretty gal!

Seeing her opportunity in the awkward silence, Margaret jumped back into the conversation. “So I hear you won a big bid at auction the other day, Bronco.”

“Now how did you know that?” he said in surprise.

“I work at a restaurant, remember?” she teased. “And the biggest one in town. I hear pretty much everything.”

He shook his head and smiled. It was his turn to tease now.   “I’ll bet you do. How come a pretty young girl like you ain’t married yet?”

Margaret put her hands on her hips. “I’m only twenty! I’m havin’ too much fun playing the field to get all tied down right now. Plus with so many handsome cowboys like yourself out there, how can a girl possibly choose?”

“I know, I know—life just ain’t fair is it?” he laughed.

“You know it, cowboy!” Margaret giggled. “On the other hand, my friend here has never seen a man exciting enough to make her want to hitch her star to his wagon. Or even go out on a date.”

“You can’t be serious?” Bronco murmured, looking over at Carrie. “Never been on a date?”

A forced smile appeared on her face and she said nothing.

Richard appeared, putting his arm around Bronco’s broad shoulders. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, ladies, but I need to introduce this fine gentleman to some friends of mine. You don’t mind if I take you away from these beauties for awhile, do you Bronc?”

“I do mind. But I guess a rancher’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. Good to meet you, Ms. Thompson. See you later, Margaret.”

“Is that a promise?” Margaret said with a flirty smile. “Will you dance with me later, Bronco?”

“Sure, if the band can figure out some reels I’ll take you up on that kind invitation.”

As the two men walked away, Carrie turned to her friend. “Please don’t embarrass me like that again! You know how hard it is for me to be here in the first place, Marg.”

“Aw, come on Care. I was just tryin’ to break the ice a bit for you. You know, help you relax a bit and enjoy yourself?”

Carrie rubbed her palms together, trying to dry them off. “Well, it didn’t work; just made it worse. My palms are all sweaty.”

Chapter Four

The rest of the night at the fundraiser was a blur for Carrie. Margaret dragged her from one conversation to the next, from one bachelor to the next, seeming to revel in the social whirlwind of endless small talk and flirting. Carrie meanwhile kept getting more and more overwhelmed by it all. By the end of the evening the only name she remembered from the dozens of introductions was Bronco’s. Even in an era of flamboyant nicknames, his seemed unique.

Despite her tongue-tied, hand-wringing encounter with him, she thought he was strikingly handsome. She found herself deeply attracted to the tall, good humored rancher with the wild name.

  She watched Margaret dance a waltz with Bronco during the evening—the jigs and reels never did appear from the string band— and was surprised to see that he was a good dancer. He twirled Margaret expertly around the floor with such ease that Carrie found herself wishing she could dance with him too, even though she was an terrible dancer. But Bronco never asked.

As the girls walked home after the event, Carrie decided to be brave and reveal her secret crush. “I thought that Bronco Collins was really handsome tonight.”

Margaret stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend. “What?! The confirmed spinster actually thought a man was handsome? I don’t believe this! Lord, did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

“Please don’t use the ‘S’ word, Marg. I get that enough from my parents as it is.”

“I was kidding, I know you’re no spinster. You’ve just been waiting for the right man to come along…and waiting…and waiting…”

“Shut up!” Carrie laughed.

“Personally, I don’t know how you’ve managed to wait so long!”

They both giggled.

“I don’t think I made a very good impression on him, though,” Carrie admitted. “My palms were all sweaty and I could barely speak. Plus, he never asked me to dance.”

“He never asked me to dance, either. Remember?”

“Ha. That’s because you told him to come find you. What a shameless trollop you are sometimes, Marg!”

“Well he did find me, didn’t he? You gotta be bold with a man sometimes. Let him know that you’re interested.”

“That’s just not my style,” Carrie confessed. “It wouldn’t work for me.”

“I know, I know. You’re the shy, mysterious type. But don’t worry, men love that too. You’re just a little out of practice at flirting, that’s all.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in practice.”

“Okay, so you never learned. So what? You’re only twenty-three and you’re knockout gorgeous. Men will adore you once you build up a little confidence and get brave enough to talk to them.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so! Trust me, Care. You just need to get out a little more and get into the swing of things. You’ve gotta find your voice, find your style. Bronco’s gonna be very interested once he finds out how smart and funny you really are.”

“I hope so.”

“That’s the spirit. Wow, I still can’t believe it. Carrie Thompson is interested in a man. Wait until your momma and daddy hear about this,” Margaret marveled.

“Don’t you dare tell them! That would make it even more difficult. They’ll be bugging me all the time about him. Promise you won’t tell them, Marg. Okay?”

“Okay, I promise. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“What else do you know about this Bronco, other than he’s a rancher?” Carrie asked with a curious smile.

Margaret searched the large store of information about Johnson County bachelors in her memory. “Hmm, let’s see…never married…doesn’t date much. Oh, he was orphaned when he was a teenager. But before he died Bronco’s dad gave his ranch to their neighbor, Ed Martin, in return for agreeing to adopt their boy. Ed taught Bronco everything he knows about ranching. The Flying G—that’s the name of their place—has done really well too. They built it up together. And like I said, it’s one of the biggest ranches in the county.”

“Wow, you’re good,” Carrie teased. “Do you have that much information on all the single men around here?”

“Hey I work at the Bighorn, right?” Margaret giggled. “You can’t help but hear things.”

---

“A Land of Peril and Deceit” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

After becoming an orphan, Bronco Collins was raised by a kind cattleman, and he now manages one of the largest ranches in Wyoming territory. Thanks to his diligence and determination, the Flying G ranch has rapidly flourished, and he finally lives the life he has always dreamt of. Little does he know that everything will be turned upside down when his devious competitor sets his sight on his ranch. From that moment on, Bronco will do whatever it takes to stand up for his land and escape an evil scheme against him. Will he manage to save his ranch from the greedy cattle baron? How far will he go to prove his worth to the man who has stood by him like a real father?

While Bronco is starting a wild range war to capture a bloodthirsty rival, a brilliant woman comes into his life and sweeps him off his feet. The moment Bronco lays eyes on Carrie Thompson, he realizes she is everything he has always been looking for. However, the clock is ticking, and Bronco cannot dive into a romance until he brings down the person who is determined to completely ruin his life. To make matters worse, danger spirals out of control when his new love is caught into a devilish trap. Bronco knows that there is no room for mistakes and that he has to play all his cards right, otherwise he might lose her forever. Will he manage to rescue the only woman who has managed to touch his heart, before it’s too late? Will he be courageous enough to put evil behind bars once and for all?

The bullets are already flying, and only one man will be left standing when the smoke clears. Will Bronco survive the greatest challenge of his life and protect the people he loves? Will he ride out the storm and make a new beginning by Carrie’s side, οr will overpowering forces wipe the smile off his face once and for all?

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 action and romance.

“A Land of Peril and Deceit” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

Get your copy from Amazon!