Howdy folks,

Welcome to the exclusive newsletter-only preview of my next Sheriff Sol Redding adventure. This is from the first draft of the book as it stands today – it may change a little (or a lot!) by the time I publish. I just wanted to give you a taste of what’s coming…

The scene: Sol and his partner Abe find themselves in a mess of trouble in the middle of a cattle stampede. If the marauding rustlers don’t get the heroes, then the charging longhorns just might… i

*starts*

Sol urged his horse forward and galloped towards the rifle-toting rustler. The ground rumbled under the weight of thousands of fast-disappearing longhorns. Abe was crouched behind his dead horse, with his back to the cattle thief. He held his revolver up near his cheek, hammer cocked, while he looked for a target.

Abe saw Sol approaching and got to his feet. The rustler raised his rifle and took aim at Abe from behind.

Sol instinctively raised his Schofield and yelled a warning. “Abe, get down, you old fool.”

His shot spanged off the rustler’s rifle and knocked it from the man’s hands. The ricochet whined as it flew away, and the rustler yowled and shook his hands frantically. Sol aimed at the man’s head and squeezed the trigger. His .45 clicked on an empty chamber. Sol looked to the heavens and yelled in frustration.

The rustler dived off his horse and unclipped a cross draw holster on his left hip. He pulled out a Peacemaker as he ran towards Abe. Abe turned quickly and stepped back but stumbled over the carcass of his dead horse.

Sol spat the taste of blood out of his mouth. “Damnit, Abe do I have to do everything?”

He shoved his empty Schofield back into its holster and kicked his mare into action. He headed right for the carcass of Abe’s dead horse sprawled across the dirt, dodging stray longhorns as his mare picked up speed. The drumming from his horse’s hooves was lost in the thunder of thousands of panicked cattle. He crossed his fingers as he set himself. He would only get one chance at this.

Abe crawled back to his feet, his back to Sol. The rustler raised his .44 and pulled back the hammer.

Sol called out urgently. “Abe, get down.”

His partner froze, confusion written across his face.

Anger burned deep in Sol’s chest. “Down, you old fool. Now, damn it!”

Abe dropped to the dirt just as Sol’s mare leaped overhead. She sailed over the horse carcass, her hooves barely clearing Abe’s head. As she touched ground Sol leaped from the saddle and crash-tackled the rustler off his feet. The pair fell to the ground, the impact sending the rustler’s revolver flying.

Sol rolled clear and scrambled to his feet, wringing his injured hand. “Shoot him, Abe. There’s no time,” he growled.

Abe looked around frantically. “Dropped my danged shooter. Red, can you see it?”

The bandit limped to his feet, favoring one leg. He drew a mean-looking double edged blade from one boot and brandished it in front of him. . Sol rolled clear and pulled his Bowie knife from a belt scabbard. The sun gleamed off the razor-sharp edge honed into the steel.

The rustler hawked and spat, rubbed his back and groaned. “That was a right dirty trick,” he muttered. “I’ll take yer liver for that.”

He limped towards Sol, jabbing with the point of his blade. Sol stood easily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He rocked his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders. “You’re welcome to try, cow thief.”

The rustler growled and moved in, blade held high. Sol watched him closely, shifting around slowly to the right. The rustler darted forward, Sol stepped back.
His foe grinned. “Scared, huh? You should be.”

Sol stayed silent, watching the man’s every movement. The rustler feinted left and suddenly leaped toward, slashing downwards. Sol leaned back and let the blade pass, then stepped forward and raised his arm as if to strike down with his Bowie.

The rustler raised his guard in response, and Sol did not hesitate. With the rustler focused on his knife, Sol took another step forward and kicked the man square between the legs. The rustler went pale, squealed and his eyes slowly crossed. He cupped his hands around his groin and sank to his knees.

Sol lowered his blade. “Drop your knife and I’ll let you live.”

The rustler nodded, doubled over and rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face.

Sol moved in. “Hands forward, pudding foot. The rustler got to his feet, then seemed to tense up.

Abe grunted. “Careful Red, look ou—”

The rustler was too quick. His blade lashed out and sliced across Sol’s stomach. Rage flashed red in Sol’s eyes, and he instinctively lunged forward and drove his knife into the rustler’s throat. The man’s blood covered his hands and drip to the ground. He left the knife embedded in the man’s throat and stepped back. The cow thief reached up and pulled the knife free. Blood sprayed out in a geyser and he fell forward, eyes already glazing over. The rustler’s face thumped into the dirt, his lifeless eyes unblinking.

Sol stared at the blood coating his hands. “Damn it,” he murmured.

Abe wiped the Bowie on the dead man’s clothes and handed it back to Sol. “Well, that’s that. He died quick Gave you no choice.”

Sol flexed his injured hand. “I didn’t want him dead. I had questions.”

Abe pointed at Sol’s midriff. “How bad did he stick you?”

Sol checked the gash carved across his stomach. The wound was bloody but only shallow. “It’s fine,” he grunted. Now let’s collect our dead boys. It’s the least we can do for ‘em.”

Abe clapped him on the shoulder. “No time, Red. It’s just you and me now, and we’ve got to move. Those cattle ain’t waitin’.”

He walked across and grabbed the reins of the rustler’s horse. The animal whickered but didn’t pull away from his touch. Abe adjusted the stirrups, then swung up into the saddle. He grinned at Sol. “Just like ol’ times, huh?”.

What did you think? Like it? Hate it? Let me know at nick@nickbrumbywesterns.com