JL was wearing his shiny new US Deputy Marshal’s badge, and doing all he could to keep it shining. But there were those who didn’t care if the badge had a glow or if it had a hole in the middle and was covered with blood. They didn’t want him in the valley.
The valley was on the verge of a range war, and it was Tate’s job to see that it didn’t happen. A pair of long time friends, with complete opposite personalities were ready to start shooting. Cattle had been rustled, and two men had died within a few yards of each other … three weeks apart.
Ranch hands were staying close to their bunkhouse mates, even though they had many friends in the other bunkhouse. No one trusted anyone, and no one rode out alone. The Dead Mule Valley was a powder keg. The fuse was set, and it was just a matter of time before it was lit.
The lives of thirty or so men, two women, and a US Marshal were at stake.
Welcome to the new job, JL