“That woman must be an imbecile,” Pritchard said, “to trust a rustler like you with her livestock. Any other reason you’re staying on?”

“Yep,” Ditch said, grinning from ear to ear. “I got engaged.”

“Don’t tell me there are two female imbeciles in Atherton?” Pritchard said.

“Same gal,” Ditch said.

“Anybody I know?” Pritchard asked. Idelle punched him in the arm.

“What about you?” Ditch asked. “What are you gonna do, now that you’ve resigned from the Texas Rangers?”

“I believe I’ll be stayin’ on in Atherton, myself,” Pritchard said. “I’ve got family here. Not to mention, I just got myself hired by a local businesswoman, too.”

“Doing what?” Ditch asked.

Pritchard parted his vest and displayed the star on his chest. It read, ATHERTON MARSHAL.

“It’s good to be home,” Ditch said.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to the following individuals for their invaluable support in the writing of this novel:

Marc Cameron, a real cowboy (both flesh and steel), retired U.S. Marshal, martial artist, true gentleman, and old-school badass. He’s the kind of man I want my son to grow up to be.

My editor, the inimitable Gary Goldstein. If ever there was a fellow who in another life should have been the captain of a pirate ship, it’s Gary. I’d pretty much follow him into hell with nothing more than a damp sponge.

My agent, Scott Miller, of Trident Media Group. He’s the real deal. I am grateful for his counsel, stewardship, and friendship, and for his steady hand at the tiller.

The Usual Suspects, whose support and encouragement are deeply appreciated.

The Calaveras Crew. Better men to “ride the river with” never existed.

Lastly, and most important, my wife, Denise; daughter, Brynne; and son, Owen: the greatest blessings ever bestowed on a fellow. I am humbled every day. Today, tomorrow, and forever. You know the rest.

Teaser chapter

TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCITING PREVIEW

SAMUEL PRITCHARD DOESN’T LOOK FOR TROUBLE

It’s now 1874, and Samuel Pritchard is once again living under his true name. As Atherton’s town marshal, he longs to put his bloody past behind him and finally settle into a peaceful life. But fate has other plans for Pritchard—strangers begin arriving in Atherton. Hard-eyed men wearing guns. Some come alone, others in groups. Besides the fact that every one of them is armed to the teeth, the newcomers share something else in common; they’re all gunning for Smokin’ Joe Atherton.

IT’S THERE WHEN HE WAKES UP EVERY MORNING

Someone’s placed a bounty on Pritchard’s head: $10,000 in gold, payable to whoever can put the legendary pistolero into a pine box. And that someone is Dominic “Cottonmouth” Quincy, a wealthy and politically connected former Union spy, riverboat captain, and the meanest, deadliest cutthroat west of the Mississippi.

THIS DEVIL IS NO ANGEL