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Showing posts with label U.S. Deputy Marshal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label U.S. Deputy Marshal. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 9, 2018

New Release — THE LAST WARRANT by Darrel Sparkman

When U.S. Deputy Marshal Luke Randall trails outlaw Johnny Ruskin across Indian Territory to Joplin, Missouri, he knows what he’ll find—a wide-open and boisterous mining town full of crooked gamblers, outlaws, lawmen dispensing justice for money, and more whorehouses than outhouses. 

He plans to find the killer and put him on a train to Fort Smith—or bury him. Ruskin is as ruthless as they come, and Luke has been doing some thinking on this assignment—does he want to spend the rest of his life wondering if every warrant he serves will be his last? When he meets Sarah McBride, she brings more to the table than a good meal—the offer of the kind of life he’s always dreamed of. 

Luke has to finish what he started with Johnny Ruskin, but death is all around him. Can he and Sarah get out of Joplin alive? No matter what, he must serve THE LAST WARRANT… 

EXCERPT


     White-hot pain tapped Luke Randall’s shoulder, like someone touched him with a branding iron as the deep-throated bark of a rifle echoed between the rocks and trees. Startled, he pitched from his saddle in an awkward dive that left him rolled up behind a limestone boulder with dirt and leaves sticking to his clothes. It would have been a softer landing if he had more meat on his bones, but he’d been blessed with big hands and feet, with a lot of skinny in between.
     His horse walked on a few paces, turned once to look at him like he’d lost his mind, and then commenced to munch on the tall grass next to the trail.
     Leaning against the rock, Luke rubbed his stinging shoulder, checking for blood. The bullet barely broke the skin, leaving a notch in the top of his vest. He’d paid a good chunk of money for leather, and now it had a hole in it. Served him right for not getting cloth like most others would. How would he sew up leather?
     He eased out one of his pistols, checking it for dirt. If he’d known his quarry was such a poor shot, he would have pushed harder to catch up. A couple of squabbling blue jays nearly drowned out the hoofbeats of the outlaw’s horse cantering away and Luke scrambled into the cover of the trees bordering the trail to wait. It wouldn’t be the first time someone sent their horse away as a decoy to set up an ambush.