Ex-marshal Jake Harwood struggles
with love and death after rescuing New Orleans
beauty, Jessica Raymond in a stagecoach
Jake slowly opened his eyes
and squinted in the early morning sunlight that streaked through the
porous shade covering the window. He looked around the modest room with
its pale-green walls that needed patching. Rising, he splashed water
from a basin into his sleepy eyes and on his face. Freshened, he dried
with a towel from a nearby hook. After he finished dressing and
strapped on his gunbelt, he pulled the Colt .44 and checked the chamber.
Jessica awoke from her
restless sleep to the sounds of horses and wagons clattering down the
street. She slipped from her bed and peered out the window. The sheriff
and his men unloaded baggage and bodies from the stagecoach massacre.
She stared down for a moment, then sat back on the bed and put her face
in her hands. The last four weeks flashed through her mind. Her
father’s death... Blackie Le Font... the Apaches’ butchery...
and now —the tall Jake Harwood. She had wanted to get as far
west as possible, maybe California. She’d have to find a way.
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