Medieval Monday is making a time jump today–to the American West and a look at my latest book which is out–Today! Last Stop, Wylder is my entry into my publisher’s series about a fictitious town — Wylder -in 1878 Wyoming. The series is called Wylder West.
I loved researching this book especially since it allowed me to dig deeper into a couple of topics of interest–frontier newspapers and women’s voting rights. With addition of a gunman wanting to change and a lady longing to find independence, Last Stop, Wylder emerged. I’d like to share a little of it with you today.
Oh, and by the way-the series has nearly thirty books from the fabulous Roses at The Wild Rose Press. Be sure to give them all a look. Now here’s Last Stop, Wylder.
A gunman’s word is his bond, and a lady’s trust can shatter.
Gunman Morgan Dodd is headed to a new life in California, where no one knows his name. Or his reputation. Just one last job to raise money for his fresh start—gunhand for a railroad agent in Wyoming. Easy enough. Until he meets the woman who could change everything.
After ending her engagement, Emily Martin longs for independence. She sets out for Wylder, Wyoming, to help her brother with his newspaper. But when she arrives, she finds he’s off investigating a story. Well, then! She’ll simply publish the paper herself until he returns. Emily’s prepared to face challenges, but not the dangerous stranger who ambushes her heart. The same man hired to destroy her livelihood.
When a common enemy threatens, Morgan and Emily must find a way to defeat danger and save their budding love. But a gunman’s word is his bond, and a lady’s trust can shatter
From the crest of a bluff east of Denver, Morgan Dodd considered his future.
A new start where no one knew his name. A new life.
West to California? Beyond the snow-flecked mountains to his left, barely visible in the early evening haze. A land of opportunity with booming cities, wide valleys to ranch.
He shifted in the saddle, his gaze drifting northwest. Oregon, maybe. Word of rich, fertile land sounded mighty appealing. He could settle down there, farm a little. If he remembered how to farm. God knew, it’d been long enough.
He settled back into his familiar saddle. First, though, north to Cheyenne. Where one last job awaited—and the money for that new start, wherever it lay.
Morgan glanced again at the blue-shrouded foothills to his left. The unknown. Deep in
his chest, a hitch of anticipation had him straightening. If he rode hard, he could reach Denver by dark. Then at first light, off to start over. Perhaps…
Something moved. His attention focused on the edge of a clearing just below. In the light dusk, three antelope ventured from a clot of trees to sample the tall, lush grass of late July, tender again after last night’s rain.
His brief reflections forgotten, Morgan brought up his Winchester and sighted. For a moment he hesitated. The three animals were beautiful. Young, their lives ahead of them. He hated for a gun to change one forever. Nostalgia hit him, as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He swallowed it.
He had a duty and he’d best get it done. One shot brought down the biggest of the trio, sending the other two leaping for cover.
A breeze carried the distant murmur of cattle settling in for the night on rich grazing ground to the east. Morgan dismounted and strode to collect his kill. Tomorrow his fellows on the drive would dine on something other than beans and rabbit.
Then they’d head out for the rail head in Cheyenne.
His path had always been set. A new job. Gunhand for a Union Pacific agent.
He threw one last glance toward the mountains.
Maybe next year.
NOTE: Be sure to visit my fellow Medieval Monday Roses (The Wild Rose Press) Mary Morgan and Anastasia Abboud . They always have something interesting planned. You can find them here: