Showing results by author "C.J. Petit" in All Categories

Lynn glared at Ryan Mitchell and wanted to smack his smug face. Even though Ryan meant to insult him, Lynn knew that there was a very good chance that what he said was right. He’d suspected for years now that Dylan Evans wasn’t his real father. It didn’t take a math wizard to figure out that he’d been born nine months after his mother had been rescued from Fort Benton.

Doctor Turnbull had estimated that Kyle's mother had six months to live - that was three months ago. He felt guilty for playing a game as she suffered back at their small excuse for a house. She had insisted and knew that it was important to her that he spend time outside of the mechanized hell where he spent 60 hours a week earning his meager pay that kept food on the table and paid the rent. She had lost so much weight and was only able to tolerate a weak broth now, so he didn’t believe it would be that long.

Grip was buried in one of his textbooks when his roommate entered and told him that the dean of students needed to speak to him. As he strode across the University of Michigan’s campus, he couldn’t recall any recent infractions that might have triggered the summons, but he soon learned that it wasn’t a question of anything he had done. The dean informed him that his father had been murdered in a hideous fashion in St. Louis. When Grip left Ann Arbor, he wasn’t returning to seek vengeance on those who had killed his father.

After he and Garth had built the A-G Connected, Al thought that he’d fulfilled his dream by owning a horse ranch. But when Garth announced that he was going to get married, Al knew that he would only be in the way, so he decided to find his own place. It was after he found his new ranch almost a hundred miles south of the A-G that things changed dramatically, and he realized that just starting a ranch and raising horses wasn’t a dream at all, and it would take a nightmare to discover what that dream truly was.

Bryn felt sickened as he felt the ground shake, knowing that one of the two shafts had collapsed. Now, he stood in the pump room and watched the two thrumming pumps as they pulled water out of the deep mines. He knew that one of them would strain when the water became fouled with coal dust and debris from the collapse, and if it was pump number two, it would mean that his father and older brothers were probably dead.

Bethan listened as her father explained to her mother the mission that he was giving to her brother, Lynn, and her Uncle Bryn. After she’s heard all of the details, she left the big house and returned to her small house where she began to pack. She was frustrated at being unable to apply the skills that she’d been learning from her father since she was just a young girl, knowing that if she’d been born male, she would have been sworn in as a deputy marshal within a year.

Clara was angrier than she’d ever been before. But even her fury took second place to her deep frustration. They’d murdered her first husband as a warning to the others. Then six months later, after she’d convinced her second husband to join her crusade against the town’s corruption, he’d been shot in the head to put an end to her editorials. They thought she’d pack up and leave Cottonwood, but she refused to give up or back down. Two weeks ago, Clara had wired the Arizona territorial governor in Prescott, hoping he would send help. But now, those hopes were gone.

As Dylan talked to Gwen, he told her how he felt that some of the more important stories of the first two generations needed to be passed on to the younger Evans.

Chicken Charlie was being shut out by the town and didn't know why. No one would buy her eggs or chickens. Then Ben Arden arrived in town, and suddenly chickens were the least of her concerns.

In his haste to escape a scalding death, the engine operator panicked and fell. Dylan lifted his heavy shovel as high as his 12-year-old arms could manage and swung at the thundering machine. It could've killed him, but he had to try. As the shovel’s steel head slammed into the machine, it set in motion a series of events that would shape his entire life.

US Deputy Marshal Earl Crawford had just entered the office after returning from a typically Texan assignment where bullets flew like dirt in a twister. He hadn’t even hung his hat when the boss approached him about an even more dangerous mission, but only if he chose to accept the job. Normally, he wasn’t given the choice, but in this case, even though he could have turned it down, he knew that he had to go.

Private Jake Elliott was apprehensive as he walked to the commander’s office. He couldn’t think of a single transgression that would have attracted the major’s attention. When he left the command building 10 minutes later, he was still numbed by the short visit. Tomorrow, he would no longer be a cavalryman, but would be returning to the family ranch outside of Fort Benton in Montana Territory. But it was the reason he was being discharged before his enlistment expired that had been the biggest shock.

The Witch's medicine was bad. She must be killed. But she ran before they could act. She ran across the Dakota prairie until she could run no more. She turned and faced the oncoming warriors. She had no hope, yet she would defy them until the end. Then, came the thunder.

Morgan was meeting with an important client in his well-appointed law office in San Antonio when his clerk tapped on the door and entered without waiting for a reply. Morgan didn’t mind as he expected Jim Cooper had a good reason for the interruption.

Toby took the conductor’s hand as he stepped from the train in the dark night unsure of why his mother had sent him away. The conductor had his travel bag in his hand and Toby looked at the shadowy, unlit buildings as he was led down the street. After five minutes, the conductor guided him to a bench on the boardwalk of the sleeping town, then left his bag on the bench with him. “Now, son, I gotta leave you here. You stay there until the sheriff comes and he’ll find your aunt for you. Okay?”

Mack Smith had left his shop in Pueblo and was just an hour or so from reaching his brother’s ranch for his annual visit when he felt the bullet slam into his head, and when his eyes finally opened, he found himself flat on his back on the bottom of a ravine. What the hell had happened? He was only a gunsmith, not a gunfighter.

After the final battle of the Civil War, Confederate Sergeant Travis Kane rode his Yankee horse away from Palmito Ranch to return to his ranch in Uvalde County. As he began the two-hundred-and-fifty-mile ride across West Texas, Travis was grateful for surviving the long, bloody war without being wounded. But now that the fighting was over, his biggest concern was for his young wife because he hadn’t received a letter from Lillian in almost two years.

Mac Jones had been searching for a refuge for seven years and had finally found it in the mountains of Colorado. Then, as soon as his cabin was built, he was presented with two fellow refugees who would turn his peaceful sanctuary into a killing ground.

Sergeant Ellis White had the Yankee colonel in the crosshairs of the Amadon telescopic sight on the J.F. Brown sniper rifle and knew his index finger just had to squeeze the trigger, but he paused. He hadn’t wanted to be the regimental sniper in the first place because he thought it was a cowardly way of fighting. Ellis had been fighting in this war since the beginning and was tired of it. He just wanted to go back to his ranch in Hardeman County just two hundred miles away and return to his life as a rancher where all he had to worry about was the Texas heat, ornery cattle and the Comanches.

Cole Turner left the Rocking T that morning to spend a couple of days with his brother and niece in Garden City. It was supposed to be a time of relaxation after having spent a few days moving those cattle to market. Any thought of quiet time vanished when he opened the door to his brother’s house.