Keep in mind, this has not yet been edited, and much can change, but I thought it might be fun to give you a peek now and then of what's coming.
***
Hunkered
down in a cemetery with a bullet in his chest didn’t give a man a whole lot of
hope for the future. Storm Dawson grunted as he loosened his shirt from his britches
and tried to look at the wound. The bandana stuffed in the hole was sticky with
blood, some fresh, some dried and it hurt something fierce when he pulled it
loose, bringing black chest hair and a fresh gush of blood with it. An annoying sound, like a thousand
cicadas, undulated in his ears in rhythm with the beat of his heart, and he
fought to stay conscious. He clenched his teeth and jammed the kerchief back
into the wound as best he could.
A
sea of grass stretched as far as he could see beyond the picket fence that
surrounded the well-kept burial ground. Where was he and how did he get here?
His horse was gone along with everything he owned that he’d stuffed into the
saddlebags, and his holster was empty. Surely the kid he’d encountered two days
ago hadn’t followed him. One thing certain, he’d been ambushed and left to die.
At least they’d made it convenient for someone to dig the hole.
