Ropin' the Moon by Deborah Camp

Author:Deborah Camp [Camp, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-06T23:00:00+00:00

With his mind on Lacy Tyrell and the many ways she could make his blood heat and his body ache for her, Dalton was almost to the jail when he heard a chuckle behind him. He looked over his shoulder and stopped dead in his tracks when he recognized the tall man astride a roan gelding. Turning fully to face the man, Dalton tipped back his hat to get a better look at him.

“Well, if it isn’t Enoch Custer. What are you doing in Far Creek?” He raised a hand, waylaying the man’s answer. “Let me guess. Junior Pullman brought you here.”

The hired gun smirked and folded his gloved hands on top of the saddle horn as he surveyed Dalton with cold, gray eyes. “Seems like everywhere you go, you rile someone up, Moon. I’ve been hired to keep the peace is all.”

Dalton chuckled. “That’s funny. You keeping the peace.” He hung his thumbs in his gun belt and tried not to show how aggravated he was to have Custer on his tail on top of everything else. “So, you’re taking on the railroad now? You sure you’re ready for that fight, Custer?” He saw the flicker of concern in Custer’s eyes and knew he was right. Pullman hadn’t given him the whole picture of the situation.

“I’m giving you fair warning, Moon. Pullman doesn’t want you on his property. He’s hired me to make sure you stay away from him and I mean to do just that. You place one toe on his land, I’ll shoot it off.” He grinned, displaying a row of large, square teeth.

Dalton noted that Custer had gained a few pounds around the middle since he’d seen him about six months ago. He was still a decent looking man, though, with his pale blond hair, mustache, and short beard. Dalton knew him to be handy with a rifle, especially a long-range weapon. Custer preferred to pick off his prey from a distance, giving him an unfair advantage.

“Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since I ran into you in Galveston.”

“Here and there,” Custer answered, vaguely. “Mostly in Missouri and Kansas. Upstarts like you keep me busy.”

Dalton smirked and refused to take the bait. He heard someone behind him and glanced back to see Otis.

“You must be the marshal Mr. Pullman told me about. Marshal Gentry, right?” Custer said, giving Otis a nod. “Pleased to meet you. I’m newly hired by Mr. Pullman. Enoch Custer’s the name.”

Otis puffed out his chest. “Hired you as a wrangler, did he?”

“No, Marshal Gentry. As a Regulator.”

Dalton ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something he’d regret. It shouldn’t irritate him that Custer kept calling Otis the marshal, but it did. What was even more irritating was that Otis had yet to correct him.

“A Regulator?” Otis repeated, smoothing a hand through his white and gray beard. “You don’t say? I don’t think we’ve ever had one of them in our town.

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