From the moment Nate and his men enter Tascosa, trouble seems to be everywhere they turn. They quickly learn not to expect much help from the townspeople, or even the local sheriff. Sitting on a powderkeg, Nate and his company must keep the big ranchers from blocking public roads and running the homesteaders off their land. Yet, the homesteaders are set on fighting the ranchers—even if it means their death.
In a final showdown with the MT Ranch owners, Nate faces down two fast guns in an effort to stop any more bloodshed. But will his ploy work? Can he hope to beat not one, but two of the fastest guns in the lawless area the Rangers have come to tame? Can there ever be peace, or will Nate give his own life in vain?
Nate’s mind and heart are distracted by beautiful Sonya Martinez, the daughter of a local restaurant owner. She’s proven she has the mettle to make a good wife of a Texas Ranger, but is Nate ready for marriage? Can he continue his work as a Texas Ranger and fulfill his dream of marriage to Sonya? A melding of hearts with the woman he loves and a final try at stopping the killings seem to be the only way he can, at last, be A RANGER AT PEACE…
EXCERPT
“Looks like trouble up ahead,
Nate,” Colby said. He pointed to a group of men gathered under a solitary
cottonwood, alongside a small creek. “Reckon we should check things out?”
“That’s what the state of Texas
pays us for,” Nate answered.
“Yeah. All of thirty a month,
bullets, and some of our grub,” Jimmy muttered.
“If we ain’t careful, we’ll get
all the lead we can eat, if those hombres
yonder are up to no good. And it won’t cost us a penny,” Nate said. “We’ll
ride in slow and easy, until we size things up. Be ready for anything.”
He heeled Big Red into a walk.
The group of men under the tree heard the approaching riders. They turned to
look at them. Five of the men were dismounted, one sitting his horse. That one
held a rope looped around the neck of a black-hided cow, which was near to
giving birth. They were gathered around one more man, who was astride a
nondescript, scrawny grulla gelding. That man had a rope around his neck, which
was looped round the cottonwood’s thickest branch.
“You boys best keep on ridin’,”
the apparent leader of the vigilantes shouted. “What’s happenin’ here ain’t
none of your business. You might just mosey along. It’d be good for your
health.”
