Cattle…Dust…and Death…
When ex-gunman Trace Belden decides to buy some cattle and settle down on his own Texas spread, he gets more than he’s bargained for—and not in a good way. An ongoing confrontation with Cord Bishop, a man he once thought of as his best friend, taints every minute of the trail-drive back to the Belden ranch—with the loss of several prize Hereford cows and a violent ambush of Trace’s crew.
Though Bishop believes he holds all the cards—Trace’s beautiful ex-wife and son—he soon learns that Trace won’t lie down; even if it means never seeing his son again. Trace is determined to protect his own—the herd, his men, his little brother, and a young boy who has run away to join the Belden crew.
As disaster strikes again and again, Trace realizes that the vendetta with Bishop can only result in tragedy and loss—and he vows not to lose either of the young boys who mean so much to him. But when Trace’s younger brother, Lonny, begins to carry a gun, he knows he has to rein the wild youngster in before someone gets killed—if it’s not already too late.
It’s a long way back, with death and dreams awaiting the Beldens as they head home— BOUND FOR TEXAS…
EXCERPT
"It's
pure Hell, ain't it? All this waiting?" Lon Belden lounged against the far wall; at fifteen, a younger,
more compact version of the other. Seventeen years separated the brothers;
that, and a difference in temperament and experience that creased one's face
with the hardness of times gone by, and this one with the quick lines of boyish
laughter.
"Quit
saying ain't, and stop
swearing." Trace spoke with a tired impatience, his voice taking on the
tone of a weary parent.
"You
could have left me with the crew." Lon's head came forward slightly as he
tugged at his tight collar. An oily smear spotted the mirror that hung on the
wall at his back. He saw the spot and tried to rub it away with his sleeve,
succeeding only in making it bigger.
"Sure,"
Trace said ruefully. "I left you with them. Last night. That's why I had
to bail you out of jail this morning."
Lon grinned
across at his brother. "We had one grand old time, Trace," he said,
his face coloring. "There's this girl down at that cantina by the tracks got…" He cupped his hands in front of
him.
"Madam
will see you now." A strange voice cut into the young man's remembrances;
clipped, precise. Disapproving. "If you…gentlemen will follow me." The man gestured for them to fall
in behind him, his nose in the air as if he smelled something unpleasant. Lon
shoved himself away from the wall and shouldered his way past Trace, imitating
the butler's mincing walk. Belden lifted a well-polished boot and applied it to
the kid's rear end.
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