Howdy folks,

Welcome to your exclusive subscriber-only preview of Chapter 1 of my next Sheriff Sol Redding adventure – REDDING’S FANDANGO. 

REDDING’S FANDANGO will be available JUNE 27 right here on my website. That’s two weeks before anyone else gets it, along with exclusive discounts and extra content only for newsletter subscribers – that means YOU!

*starts*

CHAPTER 1

Colorado, 1875

“WATCH OUT, RED—Jake’s hurtin’.”
Sol Redding stood in his stirrups and squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun. The herd of longhorns lumbered ahead of him, filling the air with clamor and dust.
His horse snorted, and Sol shook his head. “That damn fool kid. Where is he? Did he fall again?”
His partner Abe Bowman sighed. “I told you it was a risk sendin’ the boy out on his own. He ain’t ready.”
“Yeah, well, he’s all we had. How’s he lookin’?”
The sky was a faultless blue, and a gentle breeze ruffled what remained of the dry patchy scrub carpeting the shrublands. The whitecaps of the Sangre de Christo range were still a couple of days over the horizon to the northwest. An eagle soared far overhead, well clear of the commotion below.
Sol leaned over and spat a stream of tobacco juice to the ground, startling a longhorn and sending the beast skipping away, seeking the safety of the herd. His wind-scoured black duster, well-worn boots and iron-gray stubble spoke of endless days in the saddle. Yet the shining pistol holstered at his belt matched the piercing glint in his eyes.
Abe shrugged and took a puff on the Kentucky cheroot clenched between his teeth. “Can’t tell, Red. He’s all hunched over.”
Sol grinned. “One gets you five that useless jughead threw him again. I told him that horse was no good.”
His partner’s tone sharpened. “This ain’t the time for foolin’. Look, he’s headin’ this way.”
Sol spotted Billy’s horse through the dust. The youth hunched over in his saddle, arms wrapped around his belly, his reins dangling free. His Stetson fell from his head and disappeared under the hooves of a cow and her calf.
Abe grunted. “That damn fool kid will spook the herd if he ain’t careful.”
Stampede. Sol shuddered at the thought. He glanced at the sky and touched his hat for luck. “Don’t joke, Abe. That’s all we need.”
He nudged his dun mare forward and cantered towards Billy. “Quit foolin’, kid,” he bawled. “Get back out there on the flank or you’ll be ridin’ drag again, gettin’ a belly full of dust. Chilli Joe can’t cover that flank on his own.”
Billy grinned and sat up straight. “Sorry, Red.” He suddenly swayed in his saddle, fumbled for his reins, then toppled from his saddle. His head made a hollow thump when it struck the ground.
“Thunderation, Billy.” Sol dug his spurs in and galloped to Billy’s side. He leaped from his saddle and held his whiskey flask to the youth’s lips.
“Here kid, drink.”
Billy smirked and pulled open his shirt. Blood leaked from a bullet hole punched through his stomach. Pain flashed across the youth’s face, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Sol dropped the flask and grabbed the kid’s hand. “The heck? Billy, what happened?”
Billy gritted his teeth and arched his back, pain written across his face. His fingers squeezed Sol’s hand and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Sol leaned in closer. “Billy, talk to me. Who did this?”
The youth reached up and grabbed Sol’s collar. The whites of his eyes seemed all too vivid against the blood and grime smeared across his cheeks. Billy pulled Sol close, and his lips brushed Sol’s ear. The youth choked out a single word.
“Rustlers.”

That’s the end of Chapter 1.

Don’t forget, REDDING’S FANDANGO will be available JUNE 27 right here on my website. That’s two weeks before anyone else gets it, along with exclusive discounts and extra content only for newsletter subscribers. Got questions?  Let me know at nick@nickbrumbywesterns.com