Branded
Wildewood Ranch lay an hour and a half outside San Antonio and had been in the Armstrong family for four generations. It boasted over twenty thousand acres of rich southwest Texas land, twenty-six ranch hands and five thousand head of Angus cattle.
And twenty-nine-year-old Trace Armstrong was the successful manager and half owner of the whole operation.
Or, rather, had been for the past six years. But with his older brother, Eric, a marine, coming home for good this weekend… well, Trace expected everything would be thrown into a state of flux.
"Now that's the type of filly stallions will stand in line to service."
Trace tilted his cowboy hat back on his head and stared at the town's sheriff, who stood beside him on the bunkhouse porch. Had the old son of a bitch just said that about one of his ranch hands? Yes, he had. Trace knew this not because he'd followed John Brody's line of vision—even though it had been his own moments before—but because Jo Atchison was the only "filly" currently on the premises.
A couple of cowboys chuckled behind him.
Trace grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, which the day's drive had coated with dust and grime in the ... read full excerpt from: Branded ebook
