Howdy folks,

Welcome to your exclusive preview of Chapter 1 of my newest Sheriff Sol Redding adventure – REDDING’S ACE. 

Redding’s Ace, will launch on October 30 at all good online retailers, including Kindle, Kobo, iBooks, Google Play and B&N.

But wait! Because you’re part of the NBW posse you can preorder the special edition directly from me RIGHT NOW and save yourself nearly 70% on the retail launch price. By preordering direct from me you’ll also get extra and exclusive Redding’s Ace special edition content and story you won’t find anywhere else!

Click the link to get your preorder discount and special edition extra content: https://nickbrumbywesterns.com/reddings-ace/

*starts*

CHAPTER 1

Sheol Springs, Colorado, 1875

“HELLFIRE, SHERIFF—HE looks as mad as a peeled rattler.”

Sheriff Sol Redding was snoring in his favorite chair on the boardwalk outside the Sheol Springs jailhouse. Startled awake, he fumbled for his six-shooter and lost his balance. His boots slipped off the jailhouse hitching post, and he cracked his head against the solid log cabin wall behind him.

“Tarnation,” he muttered. His Stetson rolled off the boardwalk and into the traffic trundling past them along Main Street. “Dang,” he growled. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and frowned at his companion. “Jasper, this better be good.”

The gray-bearded veteran beside him leaned forward and pointed at the intersection. “No time for snoozin’, sheriff, look. That dirty scumbelly’s got it in for that young looker. He seems mean enough to swallow a horn-toad sideways.”

A man and a woman struggled at the intersection of Main Street and Silver Drive. The man, wearing mud-stained overalls and a dark bushy beard, held a smoking cigar between his teeth and had a rock hammer tucked into his belt. He gripped a bottle of whiskey with one hand and wrapped the other around the woman’s throat. His red-rimmed eyes glared at her from under the brim of his shapeless hat.

Sol frowned and raised his voice. “Let her be, you addle-headed barrel boarder.”

Main Street bustled as carriages and coaches rumbled past. Farmers cursed and cajoled the oxen pulling their buckboards and carts, whips cracking to keep them moving. Riders on horseback guided their mounts through the traffic, while townsfolk on foot darted in every direction.

Energy filled the air. Anvils rang and shouting merchants hawked everything from crisp linen to used boots and Arbuckles by the pound. A pianola tinkled in a saloon across the street, while scrawny chickens flapped and squawked amongst each other in the hunt for a forgotten morsel. The smell of fresh bread fought with a stomach-churning reek escaping from a tumbledown privy leaning against the saloon. The privy door banged against the doorframe in the breeze.

“Eat lead, sheriff.” A burly-looking drifter with a bald head and muttonchop sideburns stepped out from the crowd and fired at Sol, a cloud of smoke rising from his revolver. Instinct took over and Sol ducked, his mind whirling. Hell—who’s that? The drifter’s bullet ricocheted off the hitching post and buried itself in a lumber window frame beside Sol’s head, showering him with splinters and chunks of wood.

Sol straightened with his Smith & Wesson Model 3 Schofield in hand. He thumbed back the hammer, itching for a target. However, the drifter had disappeared back into the traffic filling the intersection.

Sol banged the hitching post in frustration. “Consarn it, where is that dry-gulchin’ rattlesnake?”

Jasper shrugged. “Sorry sheriff, I lost him in all the hoo-ha.”

The morning sun blazed from above, heating the sweat that ran down Sol’s face. Pain thumped right behind his eyes, a reminder of the full bottle of redeye he had emptied the previous evening. He shaded his eyes and squinted through the glare, anger coursing through his veins. The gunman had appeared from behind the squabbling couple in the street. I need answers. Those two must know somethin’.

Jasper peered through the sun’s glare at the couple wrestling in the street. “Best hurry, Red. That owlhoot is roughin’ her up.”

The bearded man in overalls blew a cloud of cigar smoke into the woman’s face and grabbed her arm. “That was Cannonball, wasn’t it? Is he gunnin’ for me now?” He leaned in, one hand on the mining pick in his belt. “Where is my gold? You lifted it, didn’t you,” he snarled.

“Wiley, stop.” The woman slapped his chest and turned away. She had auburn hair and a slim but shapely build. The man cursed and struck her, his work-scarred knuckles sending her staggering backwards.

“You bottom-feedin’ jughead,” Sol muttered. Anger boiled up from his gut, and he felt the last dregs of restraint evaporate in the heat of the burning sun. He grabbed his rawhide lariat from the seat next to him, stepped off the boardwalk and marched towards the pair. Fury burned in his chest. “You touch her again and there’ll be hell to pay, mister.”

The miner glanced at him. “Says who…?”

The words died on his lips when he saw the silver badge pinned to Sol’s chest. The man’s eyes darted from the lawman’s face to the badge, and the gleaming Schofield in his holster, then back to his face. A drop of blood ran down the man’s cheek and mixed with the hooch dripping from his chin.

“…You the sheriff?” he asked.

Sol pulled his duster aside and tapped the silver badge. “That’s right. Sheriff Redding. Custer County is my county. Be careful, friend.” He glared at the miner. “Who are you?”

“Me? Wiley Griffin.” The man snorted and shook the woman. “But Adeline here’s the one you want. She’s the thief. I just want back what’s mine.”

“She doesn’t interest me.” Sol pointed at him. “I want to get the drop on the critter who tried to blow my head off. He was hidin’ right behind you. Where is he?”

Griffin shrugged. “Who, you mean Cannonball Kelly? I don’t know where he’s gone. He ain’t with me. That bald-headed bandit wants me dead, just like this harlot does.” He shook Adeline again, and she fought to free herself. “They’re in it together. I thought she was sweet on me, but how wrong I was.”

The woman gasped. “Wiley, stop hurtin’ me.”

“Let her go, you no-account squaw horse,” Sol snapped. “Tell me where to find this Kelly.”

The miner took a swig from his bottle and shrugged again. “Let me know when you find him. I’ve got a score to settle.”

Sol approached Griffin slowly, wary of the holster hanging from the man’s belt. When he saw it was empty, he abandoned caution and pushed his way through the growing crowd of onlookers. An urgent voice halted him in his tracks. “Sheriff, wait.”

Sol froze. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he whirled, fist cocked, ready to swing. Jasper stood there, his broad smile fading at the anger on Sol’s face. He held something out. “H-here,” he stuttered. Sol looked down. Jasper was holding his Stetson. “It was just layin’ in the street,” the prospector croaked. “Copped an awful beatin’.”

Sol cringed inside. The old fool doesn’t deserve that treatment. He crammed the hat back on his head and nodded his thanks. “Obliged.”

He stepped between Griffin and Adeline and knocked the miner’s hand from her shoulder. “That’s enough, mush-head. Leave her be.”

Griffin stepped back, took a swig from his bottle and almost toppled over. The smell of hooch was almost overpowering. “Or what?” he slurred.

“Or—” Sol felt another tap on his shoulder. He ground his teeth together and turned again. “Damn it, Jasper, I—”

Adeline looked up at him, a wisp of hair trailing down her face. It was Sol’s first proper look at her, and his jaw dropped. She wore a homespun collared shirt and a tattered dress that did little to hide her figure. However, Sol only had eyes for her face. The woman was stunning, with flawless skin, long flowing auburn locks framing her cheekbones, and dark, mysterious eyes that made his heart pound.

She smiled shyly. “I’m no thief,” she whispered.

Aww hell, he thought. Those eyes. She’s trouble. Despite the danger, he couldn’t help himself and stole another look at her. Someone shoved him in the back and Sol almost stumbled to his knees. “Step away, sheriff,” Griffin snarled. “She’s mine, and she owes me.”

Fuming, Sol grabbed the miner by the collar and cuffed him over the ear. The man’s head wobbled, and whiskey sloshed down his shirt. “I’ve had enough,” Sol growled. “Now, you just bought yourself a night in the calaboo—”

A pair of slender arms snaked around his waist and hugged him tightly. Behind me, he thought. Who—? He glanced at Jasper, who stared at him with eyes as big as dinner plates. “It—it’s her,” the prospector whispered.

“I’ve got nothin’ of his.” Adeline’s voice was soft, almost intimate, as if every word was a secret. Sol’s stomach clenched, and he was all too aware of her curves pressing against him. She nestled her head against his back and clasped her hands together over his belt buckle. Sol felt his growing interest and tried to push her away. He felt the swell of her hips beneath his fingers, her figure warm and soft.

Someone in the crowd sniggered, and he found his voice and shook his head. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—”

Griffin’s voice was twisted, strangled, thick with hate. “Oh, you’ll be sorry alright.”

The miner’s fist smashed into his jaw, and Sol cursed his carelessness as he dropped to the street, his vision blurry. Griffin landed a solid kick to his ribs, leaving him gasping for breath. Adeline screamed, and the sheriff staggered back to his feet, fumbling for his Schofield. That’s enough, damn it. He thumbed back the hammer, the revolver’s grip cool to the touch.

The long scar down the side of Sol’s face started itching. Trouble. Jasper called out urgently. “No Red, hang fire. Look.”

The sheriff froze. Griffin held Adeline close, his arm around her throat and wrapped under her chin. In one hand he brandished his bottle of whiskey. In the other he clutched a thick stick wrapped in tattered red paper, a cord dangling from the top.

Griffin took a long puff of his cigar and blew out a billowing cloud of smoke. He raised the bottle of redeye to his lips, took a long swallow, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and burped loudly. He swayed, waved his red stick in the air, leaned over, and spat in front of Sol.

“Got anythin’ to say now, lawman?”

Sol stared at the stick in Griffin’s hand. His mouth went dry. “Tell me that ain’t…?”

Jasper nodded. “It’s dynamite.”

That’s the end of Chapter 1.

Don’t forget, you can preorder REDDING’S ACE directly from me RIGHT NOW and save yourself nearly 70% on the retail launch price. By preordering direct from me you’ll also get extra and exclusive Redding’s Ace special edition content and story you won’t find anywhere else! Click the link to get your preorder discount and special edition extra content: https://nickbrumbywesterns.com/reddings-ace/

 Got questions?  Let me know at nick@nickbrumbywesterns.com