"Lightning Draw" by Annie Turner (Novelette)

Genre:  Western

Type of Short Story:  Novelette

Summary:  Book 3 of the Zachary Davis Series

 

The demands of being a Texas Ranger have taken their toll on Zach Davis. Worried he might be losing his edge, he works on tracking down a dangerous gunman in an effort to prove he still has what it takes.

Excerpt:

Zach lurched awake with a start. He glanced down and saw that he held his pistol in his hand, cocked and ready for action. He had grabbed the weapon from the dead of sleep as naturally as he would take a breath. His instinctual reaction had managed to save his life on numerous occasions.

The deep purple of dawn was only now starting to reveal itself. Zach glanced to the left and right in tense, alert movements, trying to discern what it was that had startled him.

His brown stallion was grazing about ten yards away. Zach trusted the horse more than most people. The animal normally had flawless instincts when it came to detecting danger. And yet… the horse seemed unperturbed.

A bad dream?

It made sense to Zach that he had woken up from nightmares. His mind had been unsettled for weeks now.

No… it wasn’t a dream. Something’s wrong…

It wasn’t a sound he heard; else the horse would have his ears pricked. It was more a gut feeling, a sense of lurking danger.

 

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"Wanderlust Creek and Other Stories" by Elisabeth Grace Foley (Short Stories)

Genre:  Western

Type of Short Story:  Short Story Collection

Summary:  From the author of The Ranch Next Door and Other Stories come six more short stories exploring the joys, heartaches and laughter of life against the backdrop of the Old West. In “Single-Handed,” a gunfighter’s courage comes in doubt when he refuses to explain to his friends the real reason he backed down from a fight. The capable proprietress of the busiest eating-house in town handles a day of disasters large and small in the light-hearted “The Rush at Mattie Arnold’s,” while in “Room Service,” a hotel night clerk finds himself in on odd position after he allows an exhausted traveler to stay in a reserved room. And in the title story, the novella-length “Wanderlust Creek,” a young rancher and his wife struggle to hold onto their land and their dreams in the face of adversity from weather, enemies—and even doubts of each other.

Excerpt:

(from “Wanderlust Creek”)

He reached up toward the reins with his other hand and his hard fingers closed round her wrist. Gloria had not expected it and could not use her quirt, which had slipped down and tangled around her other wrist. The bay horse slewed around sideways in displeasure at the pull on its mouth, but she could not twist her hand free. “Don’t touch me!” she said, a little breathless, hoping her anger concealed a sudden touch of panic.

The younger man put in, though doubtfully, “Hey, do you think—”

A rifle shot cracked and a bullet kicked up the sod a foot behind the other man’s riderless horse. All three horses shied violently; the man on the ground lost his hold on Gloria’s wrist and stumbled as the bay pulled away, and swore as he turned round angrily to look for the source of the shot. Relief leaped through Gloria as she steadied her spooked horse. Ray!

Ray Collins emerged on foot from the brush bordering the meadow, a little to the rear of the scene and closer than any of them had realized, a Winchester in the crook of his arm. In a few purposeful strides he crossed the intervening space and joined them, coming up alongside Gloria’s horse. He looked up at her, catching her eye for a second to see if she was all right, and then he spoke sharply to the men. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I been getting that question a lot lately,” said the man on foot, his face still dark with anger. “You crazy, shooting at us like that? What business you got doing it?”

“You’ve got no business at all trespassing on my land, or laying your hands on my wife,” said Ray. “Get out of here before I put another shot a lot closer to you.”

Here the younger rider, whose face at sight of Ray had registered first surprised recognition and then slight guilt, cut in. “Hey—Ray—”

Ray glanced at him, his own recognition failing to make any impression on his restrained anger. Chris Borden tried to smile uncomfortably. “Gosh, Ray, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “I’m sorry about all this. I—I didn’t know she was your wife—”

“And if she’d been somebody else’s wife, it wouldn’t have mattered?” said Ray cuttingly. “Thanks a lot.”

His glance took in both of them. “You’d better ride out—now.”

With little else they could do, the two men complied. The one on foot gave Ray an ugly look, and glanced once more at Gloria before turning to his horse. “You’ll be sorry if you ever try something like that on me again,” he said to Ray, and then turned away.

As the men rode away across the meadow, Gloria turned her horse back in the direction from which she had come, towards home, and Ray fell in to walk beside her. His own horse waited in the brush from which he had fired. Gloria looked down sideways at him. She had learned to know his moods well enough in a year of marriage to tell that he was still simmering with anger, though outwardly contained. He ejected the spent shell from the Winchester and slung the gun under his other arm. The rifle shot had shaken Gloria a little, though she could not say it was a surprise. Ray’s patience had been short lately, for a number of good reasons.

He looked up at her again after a few minutes, and the expression in his eyes had nearly returned to normal. “Are you all right?” he said.

Gloria nodded. “I—I think they may have cut our fence.”
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"Corral Nocturne: A Novella" by Elisabeth Grace Foley (Novella)

Genre:  Western Romance

Type of Short Story: Novella

Summary:  Life on her brother’s ranch is lonely for Ellie Strickland. Ed’s ungracious manners and tight-fisted habits keep visitors away and his mother and sister close to home. But when Cole Newcomb, son of the wealthiest rancher in the county, meets Ellie by chance, he is struck by an unexpected impulse to rescue her from her solitude—and Ellie’s lonely summer is transformed.

When Cole asks her to go with him to the Fourth of July dance, Ellie is determined that nothing, from an old dress to Ed’s sour temper, will stand in her way. By the time the Fourth of July fireworks go off at midnight, will they herald only more heartache, or maybe—just maybe—a dream come true?

Excerpt:

Ellie finished feeding the chickens, and stood for a moment holding the empty basket, watching them cluck and scratch and search in the dust for the kernels of grain. Then she turned and walked across the yard toward the little weathered frame house. The house, the low-roofed barn, the corrals and sheds made a half-circle around the hard-packed dirt ranch yard, and the garden patch lay east of the house. Sheltered by low hills, the ranch lay down out of sight of the main road. Few people came down the rutted track to the Strickland place. Those who did came on business with Ed—buying a cow, as today, or perhaps to borrow a piece of farming equipment; and they seemed to come rather of necessity than choice. Their infrequent comings and goings did little to affect the daily round of life. Though only five miles from town, the ranch was for Ellie a lonely place.

It was not a particularly hard life they lived here, though for Ellie and her mother there were often irksome extra tasks arising from rather unnecessary scrimping and making do. Ed was ‘tight’; he grudged every bit of new wire for mending a broken fence; he kept his cows as short on grain as possible and then complained when they did not gain flesh like the other ranchers’ cattle; he would never buy a new shirt when an old one could be patched. He was apt to grumble over small extra items in his mother’s modest grocery lists, and Ellie had long since given up asking for anything for herself, knowing she would only hear the familiar response, “But what for? We don’t need it.”

Ellie sat down on the front steps and put the basket down beside her. Ed was out of sight, and it was not yet time to start the midday meal, so she sat still for a moment and let the fresh breeze from off the prairie brush her face and flutter the edge of her calico apron. It was quiet—peaceful and beautiful, with the near-noon sun shining on wildflowers bobbing in the long grasses stirred by the wind. But today the quiet only served to remind Ellie that hardly anybody came down the road to the Strickland place, and those who did come disliked Ed Strickland so much that they never paid attention to Ed’s sister.

Ellie sighed a little, and scuffed the toe of her boot in the dust. She was eighteen now. A lot of the girls she had gone to school with in the little one-room schoolhouse over on Catlin Creek had beaus by now, who escorted them to picnics and dances and took them out for buggy rides on Sundays. Ellie and her mother seldom went anywhere except occasionally to church, for Ed disliked social gatherings and didn’t like to spare the team from work for them to drive anywhere. So they were cut off, to a large degree, from the other women in the area, who had plenty of acquaintances among their neighbors to keep them busy, and knew very little about the Stricklands except what they heard their husbands and sons say of Ed. And as for young men…well, the men that came out here usually left with a sardonic expression like John Bentley’s, and hardly even noticed that Ed had a mother and sister.

Ellie put her chin in her hand and stared away up the double-rutted track to the main road, with the green grass waving softly in its center strip. She was a quiet, practical girl, who simply accepted the little trials of her life that she could do nothing about. She did not spend her time pining for a beau—it was not a real cause of heartache, or something that constantly occupied her thoughts. But there were days, like today, when the accumulated loneliness of months made her heart weigh heavy; when she wondered wistfully how the right kind of young man was ever going to find his way down the road to her isolated home—and once there, what there possibly was that could make him want to stay long enough for a second look.

“No man in his right mind would want Ed for a brother,” she said aloud to herself, and then added as an afterthought, “and I wouldn’t want to marry the other kind.”

And with this reflection she stood up, looked round again at the sunny and empty horizon—empty of either kind—and then picked up the basket and went up the steps into the house.

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"Money Lies" by Annie Turner (Novelette)

Genre:  Western Adventure/Mystery

Type of Short Story:  Novelette

Summary:  Book 1 of the Zachary Davis Series

Called in to investigate small town's bank robbery, Texas Ranger Zach Davis immediately gets the impression that there's more to this case than meets the eye. A mysterious note, a ruthless railway overseer... how does it all add up? 

Excerpt:

His horse and chaps were caked with mud that dried days ago as they made their way across the desert with dogged determination. The only hint of moisture in the barren landscape was the sweat dripping off their worn bodies. It was a state of being that Texas Ranger Zachary Davis had long since become inured to. He didn’t sign up for the Rangers for a life of lavish comfort.

Zach dared to tilt his head up to look at the bright, sun-cooked landscape. At long last he could just make out the faint outlines of buildings in the distance. Lagerton was a flea-ridden, no-account little town that existed solely to service the needs of the railway crews as they worked to lay down tracks. It was the sort of place that might not even exist in ten years if the crews decided the location too inconvenient. But it was also the bread and butter of Zach’s profession. Towns like this had little to no law enforcement and it was his job to right the wrongs.

A telegram was sent to the Rangers a week ago saying that a bank robbery had taken place. Unless there had been a tip off to prevent a robbery from ever taking place, there was little Zach could do other than write up an official report. But the mayor of the town had insisted. There was something about this case, something different.
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"New Dreams" by Annie Turner (Novelette)

Genre:  Western

Type of Short Story:  Novelette

Summary:  Book 3 of the Nathaniel Porter trilogy.

Nate Porter thinks his luck might have finally changed when a mysterious woman decides to buy some of his mustangs. In an effort to learn more about his beautiful benefactor Nate discovers that they have mutual acquaintances... none of them good. Nate realizes that he must face the demons of his past in order to save his future and the woman he loves.

Excerpt:

Consciousness slowly peeked into the dream. Nate squeezed his eyes shut and tried to capture just a few more moments with his wife. He missed her so much it hurt sometimes. And he hated the fact that she was becoming more and more of a foggy memory. He remembered the essence of her more than specific details.

Even more acute than missing his wife was an unending sense of loneliness. He had his friends with him to help run his ranch but he was still their boss. An invisible barrier always lay between them to maintain order. Nate hoped he was never put in the situation, but if he had to he would make decisions based on the good of his business. More than one livelihood was at stake.

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"Broken Dreams" by Annie Turner (Novelette)

Genre:  Western

Type of Short Story:  Novelette

Summary:  Book 1 of the Nathaniel Porter trilogy.

Nate Porter returns from fighting in the Civil War to find his wife dead, his ranch falling apart and a rich neighbor that seems to have no qualms about calling Nate's land his own. Despite his battlefield nightmares, he realizes that his own war has only just begun...

Excerpt:

“Don’t give up on me, Peters! Stay with me!”

The words could barely be heard over the booming of cannons and rifles. Nate tore off a huge piece of cloth from Peters’ coat, trying, in vain, to stop the massive amount of blood loss. Peters was writhing on the ground, his leg hanging together only by a few tendrils of muscle fiber.

Peters was screaming and delirious with pain. He grabbed Nate’s coat and pulled him close so Nate could hear. “Kill me, Sergeant. Kill me now.”

Nate recoiled. He had never mercy-killed a man before and had no intention of starting now. “No! You’ll make it! Just hang on and I’ll find something to—“

“No.” Peters’ eyes became lucid. He understood it was his time even if Nate did not.

Nate took the knife Peters held up with trembling fingers. Ammunition was in short supply and couldn’t be wasted. Nate would have to be quick and efficient so the poor man didn’t suffer even more.

The hand gripping Nate’s coat tightened. “Do it.”

Nate lurched awake, his face coated with sweat and his mind disoriented by the surroundings. His throbbing temples made piecing together reality a bit slower than usual. He had fallen asleep in the armchair after drinking a half bottle of whiskey. Apparently not drinking during the war had taken a toll on his alcohol tolerance.

He took a quick nip to help ease his massive headache as he considered what his next move would be. His prospects were almost hilariously grim. He had no money. Every cent had been spent on the land and buildings. Elaine’s family had not been rich and he was fairly certain that any money he had sent her had been used to buy food.

He had exactly $20 in his pocket from the last time he was paid by the Army. Somehow he was going to have to find a way to make that money cover the looming mortgage payments that would be called in soon. Elaine had written to say the banks had been willing to extend the deadlines due to the fact that he was fighting. But Nate was not fool enough to think that the generosity would last too much longer.

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"Young Hearts" by Gabriella Mahoney (Short Story)

Genre:  Western Romance

Type of Short Story:  Short Story

Summary:  Orphaned at an early age, Katherine Parker has been forced to be practical her entire life. She has been a been a nanny, a cook and now a school teacher. 

At twenty-six she has just about given up hope of ever finding a man that might see her as more than just the hired help. That is until Alex Dermott, her best friend growing up, comes back into down and seems interested in being far more than just friends...

Excerpt:

Katherine wasn’t entirely certain why she had made such a rebellious statement. It was totally uncharacteristic of her. Normally she was very careful about presenting a respectable public image. Nor was she entirely certain why a hint of tenderness crept into her heart as she draped the quilt over Alex and watched him sleep for a moment.

Her normal, practical self said that she was being ridiculous. That she was simply enamored with his looks. And what woman wouldn’t be? He was entirely too good-looking for anyone’s well being. And certainly far too attractive to be interested in the likes of her. He probably had scores of women wanting to be with him.

Refusing to be one of the many who had fallen prey to his charms, Katherine fixed herself some supper and then lit a fire in the living room fireplace so Alex wouldn’t get cold. Then deciding that she didn’t want to leave him alone in case he became feverish, she sat down in the armchair by the sofa to work on some mending.

“Why aren’t you married?” she heard Alex ask again softly about an hour later, causing her to look up from her sewing.

She considered how to answer this for a moment. “Well… I’m poor for one. For another, I’ve been a nanny at some point to virtually every man my age in this town. That’s not exactly the groundwork for romance.”

Alex moved closer to one side of the sofa and motioned for Katherine to come sit in the empty space he had made.

Katherine later rationalized this as being caught up by the intimate setting the fireplace made. At the moment, she walked over and sat on the sofa without so much as a second thought. The feeling of being so close to his warm, male body felt inexplicably right and made her shiver with pleasure.

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"The Ranch Next Door and Other Stories" by Elisabeth Grace Foley (Short Stories)

Genre:  Western

Type of Short Story:  Short Story Collection

Summary:  A collection of Western short stories that go beyond the standard action and adventure of the genre to focus on character and conflict. In the award-winning “Disturbing the Peace,” honorable mention in the 2010 Rope and Wire short story competition, a sheriff experiences a revelation about himself and his relationship with the people of his town, while in “The Outlaw’s Wife,” a country doctor worries that his young friend is falling for a married woman whose husband is rumored to be a wanted criminal. From the suspenseful “Cross My Heart” to the comedic romp of “A Rangeland Renaissance,” to a Western twist on star-crossed romance in the title story, “The Ranch Next Door,” these stories will appeal to a variety of readers, as well as established fans of the traditional Western.

Excerpt:

(from “Delayed Deposit”)

Across the street, Jim Beaudine rested his shoulder against the rough plank wall at his left, rifle in hand, watching the silent shaded windows of the bank. He heard footsteps behind him and then Sheriff Graham was at his side, breathing noisily after his run.

Graham was a stocky, sandy-haired man, rather short, with a round bulldog face which had a tendency to turn red at the slightest exertion or irritation. At the present moment it was already a warning pink.

“Who’s in there?” he asked of his deputy, squinting across the sunny street at the bank.

“Middleton, of course…one of Arnold’s freighters, Mrs. Eberley and the Murphy boys.”

“Well, this is a nice kettle of fish,” said Graham, and to do him credit, he did not mean the hostages.

“That’s who was seen go in, anyway, and haven’t come out. Nobody saw the hold-up gang get in. They must have come through the side door and got the drop on everyone.”

“Door should have been locked,” said Graham testily.

“Should have don’t mean it was.”

Graham wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand, wiped his hand on his trousers and gestured impatiently toward the bank. “What’s going on in there? Have you seen anything?”

“Nope. They’re trying to figure out what to do, I guess.”

“They must be first-class idiots to try something like this in broad daylight, with the place full of people. And if theyare idiots it won’t be hard to get them out of there.” Graham nodded twice emphatically, highly satisfied with this conclusion.

“Always thought it was a bad idea to have a door back there,” said Jim Beaudine musingly.

“Well, if they didn’t have a door there, they wouldn’t be able to take shipments in and out without being seen from—” Graham realized the futility of the argument in mid-sentence and finished in exasperation, “oh, never mind.”

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"Payroll" by Alain Gomez (Novella)

Genre:  Western Romance

Type of Short Story:  Novella

Summary:  Jimmy Cochran thought that he had left his rough past behind him. But Ralph McCormick, the brother of the man he killed, didn't forget... or forgive... so easily. Jimmy knows he should just hightail it out of town to avoid getting into trouble. That is until Ralph puts the woman he loves into danger...

Excerpt:

Jimmy had not even gone through a whole round of ammunition on his six-shooter before he heard the sound of an approaching horse. He turned and saw Adelaide O’Hara riding what could have been one of the finest paint horses that he had ever seen.

When Adelaide saw Jimmy, she reined in her horse and said “Well now, stranger, you’re pretty handy with those six shooters of yours.”

Jimmy grinned. “I have to be if I want to protect pretty ladies such as yourself, ma’am.”

“Is that a fact now?” And without even turning a hair, Adelaide dismounted from her horse, pulled Jimmy’s rifle from its place on his saddle, and emptied five clean shots in the cans which were some ways off.

Jimmy kept a poker face while watching the whole performance. And after she was done, he was silent for a good 5 seconds. At last he finally said “Your third shot went too far to the right. You almost missed the can.”

Adelaide seemed to consider this for a moment while staring at the can in question and replied “No. I do believe that your rifle is at fault, Mr. Cochran. It throws a trifle to the right.”

“Nonsense, Miss O’Hara. I had that rifle custom build back when I worked for your uncle. If it threw the bullet to the right, I would have caught that right away and had it fixed. I can assure you that it is a straight-shooter.”

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