The Outlaw’s Reluctant Return (Preview)

Chapter One

The harsh rays of the West Texas sun beat down on the men pounding the rails along the steel ribbon of track that ran through the middle of the dry plains. Less than half a mile south was the lonely town of Dusty Springs, a remote speck of a place, but home to two hundred hearty souls. Glenn Cassidy stopped for a moment to remove his crumpled hat so he could wipe the sweat from his eyes, a big sledgehammer poised in his thick arms. The ache in his shoulders was more than sore muscles. It was the weight of his troubled past, always present, always haunting him no matter how hard he worked to cast it away.

But Cassidy had made his peace with it. There was a small bit of solace in that, at least. His honest-but-hard labor as a lowly rail worker provided just enough to live a simple and, most importantly, quiet life among the folks of Dusty Springs.

“I reckon it’s a better penance than I deserve,” Cassidy mumbled.

He scanned up and down the section of partially installed track, watching the rest of the crew—most of it made up of a patchwork of immigrants fresh from the East, some older American stock like Cassidy, and even a handful of Chinamen. Together, they carried on pounding rail spikes or getting heavy steel rails secured to the thick ties of evergreen wood so the line could finally meet up with the town at the newly finished depot. They had all been at it for weeks now, the late summer heat punishing and unforgiving. A few of the boys had succumbed to it already and were laid out beneath a canvas tent posted up on a hill overlooking the tracks, where the town doctor had been called in and was keeping an eye on them. Cassidy had seen men die from too much exposure to the sun or by just not drinking enough water.

He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face again, and peered up at the sun just past its zenith. The cloth came away damp. Letting out a weary sigh, he hefted the heavy sledgehammer and went back to work pounding metal on metal. An older black man named Newton stood just down the line and began a work chant to help the others keep a steady rhythm. Cassidy fell in line with the rest, letting old Newton lead them with his smooth cadences and strong voice. It made the grueling routine a mite easier.

In time, the shrill ring of a bell stilled Cassidy’s hand at about the same time the foreman’s voice bellowed, “Lunchtime! Come and get it!”

Cassidy dropped the hammer in the dirt and joined the rest of the crew ambling toward the cook’s tent. Mr. Flint was fixing up some vittles—likely red beans and cornbread if he had to guess. As he came closer, the other workers started to form a line. There were about thirty men working on the rails at the present. Cassidy kept himself apart from the rest, not speaking unless spoken to, but most of the boys had gotten the hint so they let him be. He had become far too used to blending into the background and disappearing. But it was a habit that had kept Cassidy alive.

Just in front of him, two Chinamen were jabbering to each other in their peculiar tongue. They waved their arms about, making gestures back toward the work site. Cassidy glanced back in the same direction, his curiosity piqued, but couldn’t find anything obvious to set them off. When he turned back and scanned ahead in the line, he caught a glimpse of a woman’s blue wool skirt blowing in the dry breeze. His gaze followed the fluttering cloth up across the curves of her slender but sturdy figure until he saw the familiar hair. Wisps of the woman’s chestnut locks had pulled free from the bun atop her head and drifted lightly in the air. Her light skin reflected the sun.

Then she twisted her head toward him. Cassidy’s lips crooked in a faint smile.

Emily Thornton.

Damn, she was a fine-looking woman. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Cassidy had entertained that thought, but it felt brand new each time he cast eyes on her. Emily was the town’s schoolteacher, but she often came to the work site to volunteer in the lunch tent. Sometimes, she plated the food for the boys. Other times, she made sure they all got a cool cup of water to wash down the vittles.

Cassidy kept his eyes on Miss Thornton a little too long and she noticed his gaze. She raised a hand to wave at him, a soft smile appearing on her beautiful face. His stomach lurched at being caught. Damn foolish to let her catch you gawking! Not like she’d be interested in a grizzled old man like you. You’re pushing fifty as it is! Still, Cassidy returned her greeting by touching the brim of his hat. He wasn’t about to let her or anybody else know his consternation.

Cassidy waited his turn and slowly drew closer to Emily. She was using a ladle to spoon water from a barrel into wooden cups that were stacked next to her. The scent of whatever Mr. Flint had cooking got stronger. Smelled spicy. Maybe it’s not beans in his pot this time. The cook must have gotten some fresh supplies in.

Cassidy shuffled up to the table and removed his hat. He tried to straighten out his disheveled hair, conscious that Emily could see the patches of gray running through his dark hair. He was sorely in need of a barber.

Cassidy cleared his throat. “Good morning, ma’am.”

She smiled again. There were dimples in her smooth, youthful cheeks. Standing so close to her, he noticed the light dusting of freckles on her forearms and her face.

“Good morning, Mr. Cassidy. It’s mighty hot out there today, isn’t it?” Emily said this as she slowly poured water into one of the cups. Her eyes settled on his when she handed it to him.

“True enough, Miss Thornton,” Cassidy answered.

He bit back an oath of surprise when their fingers grazed as he reached for the water. A pinkish flush rose in Emily’s pale cheeks.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Emily nodded once. “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Cassidy. Enjoy your lunch.”

Not trusting himself to say more, Cassidy tipped his hat again and moved on to retrieve a steaming bowl of some spicy stew freshly dipped from a big cast-iron pot dangling over a cookfire. A piece of cornbread plus a proper spoon and cloth napkin were added to complete the meal. He eyed the utensil and the starched white cloth for a moment before smirking. Jim Hamilton and the other railroad bosses likely figured the men deserved to eat proper-like since they were so close to completing the line into Dusty Springs—and two weeks earlier than scheduled.

Cassidy ventured beneath the tent where there was some welcome respite from the sun’s brightness. It felt a touch cooler in the shade, the little hint of breeze still blowing across the open country. A few tables had been arranged for the workers with benches for seating. Cassidy found a place away from the rest of the men and settled down to eat.

He was more than halfway through the bowl of Flint’s stew when he spotted three men entering the tent—although saying they were men was probably a stretch. They were barely off their mama’s teat and those smooth chins hadn’t seen a razor’s edge more than a handful. The one in the middle of the little trio took a seat on the far side, directly facing Cassidy. He seemed a wiry sort, not quite able to sit still. Also… he seemed familiar. After a second, Cassidy realized he was Jimmy Martin—or was it Johnny?—from town. His companions took the bench to either side and the three of them huddled closer and started whispering. They repeatedly looked in Cassidy’s direction.

Cassidy spared them another moment’s examination before turning his attention back to the bowl on the table.

“Hey, Quickdraw!”

He flinched at the word. Quickdraw.

Cassidy hadn’t heard that name in a long, long time. He turned his gaze back to the boys. They were all watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. Somebody’s gone and let something slip. He considered it might have been him on one of the bad nights at the town saloon. Serves me right for being a damn drunken fool.

Cassidy sighed, set the spoon down in the bowl, and drained the rest of the water from his cup before looking over at the Martin boy. He didn’t stand up or move in any way. He made his voice firm but also deadly cold.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Rather than speaking, the Martin boy jerked to his feet and swaggered toward him. His buddies followed a few paces back. Once he was standing across the table from Cassidy, he stopped, his hands behind his back.

Cassidy squinted.

“There’s been all sorts of talking around town about you, Quickdraw Cassidy. They say you were an outlaw, a gunfighter. That you killed men before… and you’re a dangerous sort of man.”

The Martin boy’s words came out in a breathless rush, but then he just stood there, not saying anything else for a moment until one of the other boys gave him a shove. He jumped slightly. He glared at the one who did it, but the next moment, the Martin boy pulled a pistol from behind his back and leveled it directly at Cassidy before aiming at the ground. There were gasps from everyone—including Emily Thornton.

“I… I challenge you to a duel, Mr. Cassidy.”

Cassidy merely stared at the Martin boy.

The seconds stretched by. The other workers were frozen in place. One of them, a guy named Jackson, had a spoonful of stew held in front of his face but didn’t dare take a bite.

Cassidy shook his head and stretched out his hand. “Hell, son. Hand over that gun before you go and shoot yourself in the foot. That’s enough of this dueling nonsense.”

The Martin boy frowned at this. “What? You won’t fight me?”

Cassidy shook his head again. “Nope.”

“What are you, yellow? A no-good coward, maybe?”

Cassidy crossed his arms. “Been called worse than that, boy. You ain’t hurting my feelings.”

“Johnny Martin, you heard Mr. Cassidy. Hand over that gun. They can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing with them.”

It was Emily. She had spoken up now, putting all of her teacherly authority in the command. She came up beside Cassidy and added her own glare. The boys started getting nervous.

Then Johnny pulled the gun up again, aiming it right at Emily.

“Sorry, Miss Thornton, but I have man’s business with Quickdraw Cassidy. I’ve called him out, and I expect him to respond.”

Emily took a step toward Johnny Martin. He flinched at her and pulled the hammer back on the pistol. All it would take was squeezing the trigger. Cassidy reached out and grabbed Emily’s arm.

She jerked her head around and looked down at him. Her eyes were wide with barely contained fear.

Finally, Cassidy got up from the bench.

“Don’t be pointing that damn gun at the lady.” He jabbed his finger at Johnny. The boy was beginning to sweat.

“You’ll face me, then? We can do it down on Main Street. Just like in those dime novels they sell in the dry goods store.”

Cassidy took a few careful steps closer. “If that’s what it takes to end this, then yes.”

Johnny was smirking now. He gave his friends a reassuring look. The pair of them patted him on the back.

Cassidy took a few more steps until he was standing right next to Johnny Martin.

“Reckon you’ll need a gun too, huh, Quickdraw.”

Like a viper striking its prey, Cassidy lashed out and tore the pistol out of the boy’s hand, then gave him a fierce punch to the stomach. Johnny gasped and curled up before he sagged to the ground. He was moaning and retching at the same time. In mere seconds, Cassidy had the gun pointed at Johnny’s companions. Without sparing a thought for their downed friend, the two turned tail and ran back toward Dusty Springs.

Cassidy looked down at Johnny, but the boy wasn’t moving any time soon. He was sobbing like a baby and gasping for his breath. The gun felt odd in Cassidy’s hand after so long without it. Not that it wasn’t familiar, even comforting to feel its weight once again, but it was still odd—and also troubling. Cassidy let his eyes sweep over the rail crew gathered and then back to Emily Thornton.

They all seemed surprised and maybe wary now.

Well, I’ve done did it now, he thought. Now, everybody’s going to hear about it.

With a disgusted growl, he emptied the pistol and tossed the weapon on the table, followed by the bullets. Not saying a word to anybody, he headed back out to the tracks. When he found his discarded hammer, he picked it up and started swinging.

Chapter Two

Cassidy woke just before dawn. Sleep had been a fitful, useless thing last night. Now, staring out the window of his room in the boarding house, he couldn’t shake a sense of unease, even dread. Bad enough that he had to endure the looks of those who had witnessed the altercation with Johnny Martin. The news had spread like a wildfire across the open prairie. Rather than deal with the whispers or the looks from townsfolk on the street, he had retreated to his room at Mabel’s Boarding House for the evening.

Cassidy got dressed and headed back out to the worksite as usual, trying to ignore the looks of folks he had become acquainted with who now saw him in a different light. And perhaps not a favorable one. Not that anyone said as much to him directly, but his ears picked up words like “gunfighter” and “outlaw” easily enough. Even those who usually greeted him on his way out of town avoided his gaze or turned and walked the other way. Maybe they had a right to be wary.

Things seemed to improve once he reached the rails. He let himself get caught up in the rhythm of the work. It helped that the boys on the line treated him much the same as they ever had. Cassidy figured he wasn’t the only one manning a hammer or a pry bar who had a questionable past he would sooner like forgotten.

Just before quitting time, the foreman, Ike Chambers, came up beside Cassidy while he was pounding a spike in place on the tie.

“Glenn, I want you to go into town. We need a few things from the mercantile.”

Ike handed over a sheet of paper with his crude scrawl on it. Cassidy’s eyes scanned over it. The list of items was just barely legible.

Cassidy mopped his face with his sleeve. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

Ike Chambers gave him an appraising look. “I’ve heard the rumors like most of the folks in town by this point. But I’ll tell you what I know. You’re probably one of my best workers. You never try to cheat me or the company. Also don’t have to threaten you with a beating just to get you to do the job. Far as I’m concerned, the past is the past.”

Cassidy nodded. “I appreciate that, Ike.”

Ike grunted and stuck out his hand. Cassidy returned the foreman’s firm handshake.

“Go ahead and take the wagon. Put the purchases on the railroad’s credit.”

Cassidy went right to it, walking beside the rail line before leaving it to descend a small hill. The wagon was waiting at the bottom next to a tent that served as a makeshift stable for the horses. There were two sturdy brown geldings tied up and lazily eating the hay piled in the trough.

The farrier was lounging on a stool but perked up when Cassidy cleared his throat.

“What’cha want?”

“I need those animals hitched to the wagon. Got to pick up some supplies for the foreman.”

The man, his already wrinkled face becoming more so, grumbled softly, but he got to his feet and began preparing the horses. Cassidy watched for a minute or two before volunteering to help the farrier speed up the process. Once both animals were hitched to the supply wagon, he climbed into the seat and set off down the dirt road toward Dusty Springs. The sun was just as blisteringly warm and fiercely bright as it was yesterday, and it would get even warmer before nightfall. Cassidy adjusted his hat, pulling the brim down lower to cut down the sun’s glare.

Not far from the edge of town, he saw a band of riders approaching from the main road. They rode with the ease of experience in the saddle. Even from a distance, Cassidy could tell they were all armed, with both pistols and rifles. He kept the wagon moving in the same direction but knew he would intersect with the riders. His apprehension grew. A feeling of foreboding made Cassidy’s skin crawl. He didn’t like it. Worse, he didn’t like facing a possible threat completely unarmed.

He had to stop himself from reaching for the gun that wasn’t there.

As the gap between the wagon and the riders closed, Cassidy found him trying to puzzle out who these strangers might be. But something did catch his eye—and it made him feel like the bottom dropped out of his belly. There, branded on the flanks of the horses, was a symbol that depicted a coiled snake ready to strike.

Cassidy knew that mark. And it made his blood run cold.

Bad memories stirred, those of another life, one he had tried hard to put behind him. He kept himself calm, collected, as the riders came up beside the wagon. One or two of them gave him some curious looks but the rest of the men, ten strong, paid him no mind at all. Cassidy kept a firm grip on the reins and tried to focus on driving the wagon along the rough patches of road. The dust was rising from all of the traffic. After a few minutes riding parallel to each other, the riders urged greater speed from their horses and pulled ahead, forcing Cassidy to eat more of their dust.

His heart was thundering in his chest. At least none of them recognized me.

He kept his eyes on the riders as they entered town. The men weren’t trying to hide their scrutiny of Dusty Springs. He knew those looks. This wasn’t a casual visit. Not from a gang like this.

Cassidy ground his teeth together. “Damn it.”

Once he’d parked the wagon outside the mercantile, he watched the riders dismount and secure their horses outside of the saloon. One by one, the men disappeared through the doors, but a pair lingered outside on the wooden porch like they meant to stand guard. Cassidy climbed down from the supply wagon, made sure the reins were secured, and reluctantly turned his back on them. As much as he wanted to keep an eye on them, he had a job that needed done.

Cassidy pulled open the door and a tiny bell mounted to the top jingled. The mercantile was mostly empty, though there were a few ladies buying dry goods or lurking among the bolts of cloth trying to find just the right material for a dress. The folks of Dusty Springs had no idea who had just ridden into their town.

But Cassidy did.

If the Black Serpent Gang was here, then trouble might not be far behind.

Trying, for a moment, to put the riders out of his mind, Cassidy went about collecting the various items on Ike’s list and brought what he could find up to the main counter.

John Fletcher was there waiting. “Howdy, Glenn.”

“John.”

“What do you have there?”

Cassidy held out the paper. John took it and read over it. Then he glanced at the items gathered on the counter.

“Hmm. I should have the rest of this in the back.” He turned around but stopped and gave Cassidy a look over the top of his spectacles. “This all on railroad credit, right?”

“Yep,” Cassidy answered. “Ike told me such.”

“Alrighty, then.”

While Fletcher was in the back storeroom, Cassidy wandered up to the front of the store and peered out the window. Just as he thought—the two gents were still on guard duty outside the saloon. Likely up to no good.

But what can I do about it?

This was something for the law to handle. Old Artie Harrington should be told. Of course, he was just as likely to bluster himself into some real trouble as send the Black Serpents headed out of town.

Cassidy didn’t like this turn of events one bit.

“You’re all set.” He turned back and saw Fletcher standing there, a small wood crate in his hands. “Packed everything in here for you real neat-like.”

Cassidy returned to the counter. “Thank ya, John.” He hefted the crate.

“You tell Ike thanks for the business from the railroad. Be a mite easier to keep things in stock with the trains coming straight to Dusty Springs rather than having to have them brought in by wagon or stagecoach.”

Cassidy nodded. “Will do.”

He carried the supplies outside, letting his gaze stray down the street to the saloon again. Still no change there. The fact made Cassidy’s skin crawl.

“What the hell are they doing over there?”

“I was wondering the very same thing, Mr. Cassidy.”

Cassidy dropped the crate in the bed of the wagon and whipped around to find Emily Thornton standing there on the boardwalk. She wore a floral print dress that fit her just right. Her hair was firmly fixed and half-hidden beneath a small bonnet.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to curse in front of a lady.”

Emily smirked. “Come now, Mr. Cassidy. How could you have known a lady was standing behind you? You don’t have eyes in the back of your head, do you?”

“I reckon not,” answered Cassidy. A thought occurred to him, and he cracked a thin smile. “I always thought that about mothers and schoolmarms, Miss Thornton.”

Emily burst out laughing, her face practically glowing. “Why, Mr. Cassidy, for shame.” She brushed her eyes. “But I am curious about the newcomers. Something about them makes me shiver. They look like hard men who’ve done troubling things.”

“Sort of like me, ma’am,” Cassidy pointed out.

Emily’s eyes widened slightly but she shook her head. “Not exactly.” She gave him a longer look, which both pleased Cassidy and made him slightly uncomfortable. “You’re are hard man, Mr. Cassidy. But that’s not all I see, not in those strong blue eyes of yours.”

Cassidy cleared his throat. His cheeks were warming a touch. “Well… I appreciate that, Miss Thornton.”

“Do you think they’re going to cause trouble for Dusty Springs?”

He didn’t know what to say. Cassidy thought about telling her a fib, maybe trying to put her at ease. But that didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t dare try to lie to her. It would be a grave wrong, surely it would. That, then, left the truth.

“Ma’am, I hope not, but you just never know. Best to be prepared for things to go poorly.”

“Hmm. Then you think the sheriff should get involved, maybe find out what sort of business those men have in town?”

“Maybe,” answered Cassidy. “Or maybe they’ll leave of their own accord after a bit of drinking and mild carousing.”

Emily stared at him again with those rich hazel eyes of hers. “Thank you, Mr. Cassidy. Um… thank you, Glenn, for the honesty. Perhaps I’ll wander over and pay Artie a visit.”

Cassidy tipped his hat. “You’re welcome, Miss Thornton.”

His eyes followed her as she walked up the clapboard walkway, admiring the view mostly, before he climbed aboard the wagon and started back toward the work site.

Cassidy spared the saloon one last look as he was leaving town. Be best to keep a keen eye on those boys, he mused. Besides, I might be the only one who’ll spot trouble and know what to do about it.

The past had gone and shown up right here on his doorstep and that annoyed Cassidy something fierce.

Chapter Three

Cassidy sat on a bench beneath the porch just outside the boarding house. The air was still pleasantly cool. The morning sun was peeking over the horizon in the east, but darkness still held sway. The street was quiet; most folks in Dusty Springs were probably in their beds. Of course, it being the sabbath and all, many of them would be up early for church services. It was the one day off afforded to the crew working on the railroads and Cassidy aimed to use it for spying on the boys from the Black Serpent Gang rather than listening to sermons.

He hadn’t slept well the previous night. Just the thought they were in town kept him awake and watchful. Mabel’s place was on the outskirts, but Cassidy swore he heard their laughter and carousing well into the night. At least that meant they’d probably be abed late trying to sleep off the booze.

It was a gunshot that brought him out of his bed for good. Cassidy dressed quickly, silently cursing his lack of firearm. From that point till the present, he maintained his vigil. Though he waiting and listened from his position, there were no other shots fired. Just more laughter and shouting.

Cassidy didn’t go closer to investigate, but he remained watchful and hopeful that the sheriff and his men already out there.

Dusty Springs was blessed, or maybe cursed depending on who you talked to, to have Arthur “Artie” Harrington, a so-called veteran lawman, keeping the peace over the town and surrounding territory. As far as Cassidy was concerned, the man’s reputation far exceeded what he knew of the man’s knowledge and prowess, but he still managed to get things done most of the time. Not that the town had encountered much trouble recently.

Dusty Springs was still mostly a remote place, not prone to much attention from outsiders. That was why Cassidy had chosen it. Here, he could settle down and find some peace and maybe just disappear. The railroad would change that, he knew, but he’d still thought it a fine place to put down roots, and maybe… maybe find the company of a good woman. Somebody like Emily Thornton. Then he’d have an excuse to buy a parcel of land and build a little house of his own. Maybe an older man’s silly dream, but he had a hope of making it come to pass.

But now, with Black Serpents here, the situation had become different—dangerous, even. These boys were a threat. Almost like the past was a living thing that wasn’t ready to let Cassidy go completely or that wanted to play games with him. Either way, he was frustrated and uncertain about what should be done.

Cassidy wasn’t a man accustomed to feeling that way—or having something to lose.

Slowly, the sun rose over Dusty Springs and the heat began to return. The townsfolk stirred from their beds, some wandering up and down the main street. They weren’t much more than vague shadows at first, but as the dawn’s light poured in, Cassidy was able to make out more details. They were all people he knew, either those from town or a sprinkling of men from the crew. Most of the others stayed to themselves in the camp outside of town—especially the Blacks and Chinamen. While they weren’t forbidden from coming in, he knew they were discouraged from venturing there unaccompanied.

Cassidy stayed where he was as Dusty Springs woke up. After a time, the church bell started ringing and he saw folks moving about in their Sunday finest.

To his right, a door creaked open. He glanced over and saw Mabel Sutton, the proprietress of the boarding house, step out onto the porch. She was a plump old gal with a sharp tongue and strong opinions about all sorts of subjects, some of them a complete mystery to Cassidy. Of course, he wasn’t that surprised. She was a widow and her dearly departed husband, Abner Sutton, had been a man of books. There was quite a library in the first-floor parlor and Cassidy sometimes spent idle hours in the evening perusing the shelves. He knew how to read but had never been much of a reader.

“Morning, Glenn.”

Mabel carried two mugs in her hands. The steam rising carried the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The scent was a pleasing one and promised to perk his wearied senses.

“Thank ya, ma’am. That’s mighty kind of ya.”

“Well, you’re right welcome, Mr. Cassidy. I figured you might be needing it. Heard you stirring earlier.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She took a sip of her coffee and waved away the apology. “Nah. Ain’t no harm done.” One of her eyebrows rose. “But didn’t I tell you to dispense with all that ‘ma’am’ nonsense and just call me Mabel?”

Cassidy cracked a smile. “Call it force of habit. My mama raised me with good manners, but I tossed them for a time when I was a younger man. I reckon I’m just trying to make up for it now.”

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“The Outlaw’s Reluctant Return” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Beneath Dusty Springs’ unforgiving sun, Glenn “Quickdraw” Cassidy grapples with his notorious legacy, seeking solace in the steady work of the railroad. His once-feared hands, yearning to mend the fabric of a peaceful life, are haunted by the specter of his gun-slinging past, threatening to unravel the quiet existence he desires. The wary eyes of the townsfolk and the weight of his own history cast doubt on whether he’ll ever be able to keep the ghosts of his past at bay.

Will he ever be able to keep the ghosts of his past at bay?

Amidst the town’s calm, Emily Thornton stands as a beacon of resilience, her life a stark contrast to the tumultuous whispers that now drift through Dusty Springs. The arrival of the malevolent Rufus “Rattlesnake” Bradley and his gang challenges the tranquility she holds dear. Yet, her unwavering trust in Glenn’s pursuit of peace ignites the dormant spirit of courage within them all, breathing life into a shared defiance against the encroaching peril.

She might hold the key to the entire town’s salvation…

In this crucible of past sins and new beginnings, will Glenn’s redemption be forged in the fires of confrontation, or will Rattlesnake’s dark ambition cast a shadow too long to escape? As destiny beckons, Dusty Springs teeters on the brink, its fate intertwined with the legacy of a quickdraw reluctant to revisit his past—but willing to face it for a chance at a future where peace might just triumph over the pistol.

“The Outlaw’s Reluctant Return” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

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