New Release - Tahoe Destiny (A Will Toal Novel Book 4) by J. L. Crafts

 

Nevada rancher Will Toal is left with no alternative but to move his cattle to his northern lands to save them. With a prolonged drought dropping his animals in their tracks, he’s about to lose everything—along with his fellow neighboring ranchers of southern Carson Valley.

But moving that many cattle north where the Truckee River flows from Lake Tahoe brings a long-simmering feud with opposing formidable forces in California to the boiling point over water rights. They’ll do whatever it takes—even commit murder for hire—to protect the flow of water for their own needs.

The bitter fight over Tahoe water runs deep. In desperate need of a new water source, California has dammed the Truckee to generate that water supply for San Francisco, with no thought for the Nevada ranchers. In an un-winnable battle, California, Nevada, railroad and lumber barons, ranchers, and politicians are pitted against each other. Guns are drawn… and fingers are on the triggers.

Though Will tries to distance himself, he’s inexorably pulled in, unable to turn his back on his fellow ranchers. There has to be an alternative—but this potential powder keg is ready to blow at any moment. Can anyone save Tahoe? The battle rages, and once again, bullets fly. Is there any hope for a peaceful TAHOE DESTINY?

EXCERPT

August 1877

Jack’s Valley, Nevada

The animal trembled, legs shaking as it reached down into one of the many small rivulets that cut through the grasslands. Sharply carved sides of the small streams jabbed straight sided into what usually was soft dark dirt. But the dirt was not moist. It was not dark. The rivulet was dry, full of nothing but dust.

With the utmost effort, the steer spread its front legs to drop its head and nose below the normal level of the turf. The beast lowered all the way to the base of the natural sluice in anticipation of a watery reward. Its brain, though markedly limited, kept accurate memories of kin, herd, food and water, but not much else. It had come here pushed by a stored recollection that it would find something to drink. Survival was simple and water was necessary for survival. But the effort was for naught. The animal’s head lifted out of the empty streambed. With a heave of resignation from its lungs, a bovine version of a sigh, its legs gave way. It buckled onto its side in acceptance of its fate.

Will Toal watched from atop his gray mustang Powder, as the steer collapsed. That was his beef. He now counted nine steers that had collapsed in the last few days. It was only August. He gazed up, lifting his hat off his head to wipe away a bead of sweat from his brow. Still early morning and already getting hot again. Would it not end? Nine steers…he had to do something.