Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: 5/26/2020
He may be a Texas Ranger but
he only has eyes for the outlaw’s beautiful daughter…
Texas Ranger Matt Taggert is
on the trail of a wanted man. He has good reason to believe that Ellie-May’s
late husband was involved in a stagecoach robbery, and he’s here to see justice
done. But when he arrives in town, he discovers the thief has become a local
hero…and his beautiful young widow isn’t too happy to see some lawman out to
tarnish her family’s newly spotless reputation.
Ellie-May’s shaken by her
encounter with the Ranger. Having grown up an outlaw’s daughter, she’ll do
anything to keep her children safe—and if that means hardening her heart
against the handsome lawman’s smiles, then so be it. Because she knows Matt
isn’t about to give up his search. He’s out to redeem himself and find proof
that Ellie-May’s husband wasn’t the saint everyone claims…even if it means
losing the love neither expected to discover along the way.
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Enjoy this excerpt:
Haywire, Texas
1887
“Hold it right there, mister!”
Matt Taggert froze in place. The woman’s voice sounded
serious, as did the metallic click announcing she was armed.
Not wanting to alarm her, he held his hands out where they
could be seen and turned to face her, taking it nice and easylike.
The owner of the voice stood at the entrance of the barn,
the sun behind her back. The woman was small in stature but nonetheless looked
like she meant business. Least her shotgun sure enough did.
Loosely braided hair the color of silken corn fell from
beneath a floppy felt hat. Keen blue eyes looked him up and down, stopping
momentarily to study the Colt hanging from his side and the badge on his
leather vest. Apparently, nothing she saw relieved her mind as her weapon
remained pointed at his chest.
“You can put your shotgun down, ma’am,” he said. “I mean you
no harm.”
Matt’s assurances won him no favor, and the shotgun didn’t
budge. “What are you doing, snooping ’round my property?” she demanded.
“Name’s Taggert. Matt Taggert, Texas Ranger,” he said. When
even his name and profession didn’t convince her to lower her weapon, he added,
“I’m looking for Neal Blackwell. I knocked on the door of the house, but there
was no answer. Thought maybe I’d find him here in the barn.”
“Well, you thought wrong, mister.”
He studied the woman with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t mind
my asking, ma’am, who am I speaking to?”
“I’m Mrs. Blackwell.”
“Mrs.—” That was a surprise. If her husband did indeed rob a
stage, he sure in blazes hadn’t spent any of the stolen loot on his wife. Her
sinewy body looked like it had been shaped by hard work and even harder times.
If that wasn’t bad enough, her dress had enough patches to shingle a roof. The
scuffed leather boots showing beneath the frayed hem of her skirt fared no
better.
Nor did the animals in the barn, which included one skinny
milk cow and a swaybacked mare.
Nevertheless, the woman earned his begrudging respect.
Despite her shabby attire, she held herself with a quiet dignity that seemed at
odds with her circumstances. He sensed that her squared shoulders stemmed from
hard-earned inner strength.
“I need to talk to your husband,” he said.
Some emotion he couldn’t decipher flickered across her face.
“Well, you won’t find him here.”
“If you’ll kindly tell me where I can find him, I’ll be on
my way.”
Suspicion clouded her eyes, and he could almost see the
cogwheels turning in her head. “What business does a Texas Ranger have with
Neal?”
Before he could answer, a boy no older than five or six
appeared by her side and tugged on her apron. “Mama?”
Dressed in knee pants and a checkered red shirt, the child
peered at Matt from beneath a black slouch hat. A handsome lad, he had his
mother’s blond hair and big blue eyes. He also matched his mother’s determined
demeanor.
Matt grimaced. He hadn’t counted on Blackwell being a family
man. Nothing worse than having to arrest a man in front of his children. It was
bad enough cuffing one in the presence of his wife. But if Blackwell couldn’t
answer Matt’s questions, arresting him was a real possibility.
The woman’s stance didn’t waver, but her voice softened as
she addressed her son. “Go back to the house, Lionel. Mama’s busy right now.”
Before leaving, the boy looked Matt up and down, curiosity
written on his little round face. “Is he a bad man, Mama?”
“Let’s hope for his sake he’s not,” his mama replied. “Now,
go.”
Lionel’s face grew more solemn as his probing eyes met
Matt’s. Matt winked in hopes of relieving the boy’s mind, but the stoic look
remained. Never had Matt seen a child so young look so serious.
“Go,” his mother repeated, and this time Lionel left without
further ado.
Mrs. Blackwell gave her shotgun a shake as if to remind Matt
she meant business. “You still haven’t told me what you want with Neal.”
Matt couldn’t think of a tactful way to explain his
business, so he came right out with it. “I need to talk to him about a stage
robbery that took place last year.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Why?”
Partly because of the shotgun and partly because something
about the woman brought out his protective instincts, Matt chose his next words
with care. “I have reason to believe your husband has…certain information that
would be helpful in my investigation.”
She discounted his explanation with a toss of her head. “Why
would you think such a thing?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. Least not till I talk to
your husband.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “If you think Neal had anything to
do with that robbery, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“That may be true,” he said slowly. “But I still need to
talk to him. It’s the only way I can wrap up my business and—”
“You’ll wrap up your business a whole lot quicker if you
just leave now.”
Matt drew in his breath. If she were a man, things would be
easier. For one thing, a man would have been disarmed by now. He would have
seen to that. After letting his outlaw brother escape, Matt couldn’t afford
another blunder. Not if he wanted to keep his job. Still, he wasn’t about to
use physical force on a woman. Not unless he had to.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He ever so slowly lowered his hands to
his side. “I can’t leave. Not till I talk to your husband.”
“That’s gonna be a little hard to do,” she said with a wag
of her shotgun.
He arched an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
“Well, mister, it’s like this. My husband, Neal, is dead.”
***
Excerpted from
The Outlaw’s Daughter by Margaret
Brownley. © 2020 by Margaret
Brownley. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights
reserved.
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About the author:
New York Times bestselling author Margaret
Brownley has penned more than forty-five novels and novellas. She's a
two-time Romance Writers of American RITA® finalist and has written for a TV
soap. She is also a recipient of the Romantic Times Pioneer Award. She makes
her home in Southern California. Visit her online at margaret-brownley.com.
Author
Website: margaret-brownley.com
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