The Ranger And The Redhead
Nebraska, 1861
The column of black smoke spiraled into a noon sky so blue it looked painted. Will reined in his mare and watched the smoke dissipate in the hot wind. Seven, maybe eight miles ahead, he calculated.
He didn't have time to ride out of his way, but he had to know. McCray's orders would have to wait. Might even save him a few hundred miles of tracking a man through sage scrub and dried-up water holes. He nudged the mare forward across the scorching plain.
By the time he reached the smoldering remains of the wagon, he'd pulled his neckerchief up over his mouth and nose to block the acrid smell.
No horses. No oxen. Just the sheared-off leather lines where the reins had been cut. Sioux, most likely. Must be a wagon train up ahead; stragglers didn't last long out here.
He dismounted and prodded the piles of ... read full excerpt from The Ranger and the Redhead ebook
