Diamond Brand
by
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It was three miles to the ranch house from where Mark Thorp had found him working the cattle, and Mike fairly flew into the ranch yard on the wings of his horse. The rest of the hands were but a breath behind him.
He flung himself from the saddle, not even waiting for the horse to slide to a complete stop. He was shouting orders as he raced for the house.
"Line up the wagons. Wheel out the hay press. Throw anything you can lay hands to in their way."
Old John Kramer met Mike at the door. "What's the ruckus, Son?"
"They're comin', Pa! He's got three thousand head runnin' in front of him."
"Damn 'em to hell! Damn 'em straight to hell! Rick," the old man shouted from the porch. "Load bales on that wagon. Weigh it down. Tom, Stony, give him a hand."
John Kramer followed his son back in the house, ripped the gun case open and pulled out rifles, laying them on the table. He threw boxes of shells after them. Mike grabbed up one of the rifles and started stuffing shells into it, and loaded his pocket as he went back outside.
The ranch made swift preparations for the onslaught of the McGill gang.
***
A slow smile touched JoAnne's lips. She turned Sass to face the oncoming rider and sat very still in the saddle, waiting for the man to approach.
"Hey, you there, where the hell do you think you're takin' those beeves?" The man rode right up to her, his gun drawn, and stopped less that ten feet from her. When he realized JoAnne was a woman his face lit up with a wicked grin. "Ho, well now, lookie here? Where were you takin' those cows, girl?"
JoAnne did not answer, but the slight smile on her lips twitched. She recognized the man as one of the five men who had first come to the ranch with McGill.
"Cat got your tongue, girlie? Well, maybe you would like to explain to Milan. He has a way with the ladies," he waved his gun, motioning JoAnne to ride out in front of him, back toward the ranch. It was a movement she had been waiting for. Her hand was on her right leg. Her timing had to be perfect. When his gun made another sweeping movement away from her a swishing sound broke the stillness in the air. It was the last sound the man ever heard. A long bladed knife was embedded deep in his chest. He had never seen her hand move. He never even knew what hit him. The long blade pierced his strong heart with deadly accuracy, and he tumbled forward from the back of his horse, dead before he hit the ground. A look of surprise was etched on his dead face. His horse sidestepped when he fell, then stood rigid, close by.
There was no expression of horror on JoAnne's face, no regret showed on her features. Only a frozen, half smile, and a vicious glint that lit her dark eyes. She swung down, touched Sass on the neck, and strode forward to stand over the fallen man. She kicked him the rest of the way over onto his back and retrieved her knife, having to pull hard, then wiped it clean on the man's shirt before sheathing it. Then the thought crossed her calculating mind. When she finished her handiwork she stepped back to view the effects. Satisfied, she mounted her horse and gathered the cattle again, heading them back toward the line camp.
It had begun! And she knew she had a long, hard road ahead of her.
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About the Book
When the outlaw Milan McGill attacked with the twenty hard men riding behind him, and the three thousand head of stampeding cattle running before them, JoAnne Kramer found herself as the sole owner of the Diamond-K Ranch when her father and half-brother were killed in the onslaught.
JoAnne's mother had been a Crow Indian, and JoAnne had been shunned for her Indian blood after her mother had died. Not only was she shunned, but she was also hated and feared by every man on the Diamond-K as she had grown toward woman hood, including her father and half-brother. Her only friend in life was the tall chestnut mare she rode – marked as an outlaw as a two-year-old when she had killed her first man. Both were outcasts of humanity, but JoAnne was far from rash or stupid. No one had ever bothered to learn what was locked in the mind and will of JoAnne Kramer.
Milan McGill never bargained on the vengeance of the half-breed daughter of old John Kramer to disrupt his plans. Not until they found the body of Eldon Jeffers, his gun still firm in his hand, never even fired, but the long bladed knife had buried deep into his chest, piercing his strong heart. The diamond that was etched deep into the exact center of Jeffers forehead let McGill know his fight for the ranch had only begun. JoAnne swore vengeance against every man responsible or the death of her father and brother.
Alone, with only her horse to trust, hunting and hunted, shot at and shot, betrayed even by her own ranch hands, JoAnne was faced with the fight of her life. As each man McGill threw in front of her went down, the diamond brand cut into their foreheads to take to the grave, JoAnne vowed McGill would soon pay for the deaths with his own miserable life, if only she could get him in her sights.
About the Author
P. R. Westlund is a born adventurer. More at home on the back of a horse, Westlund has spent days, weeks, even months at a time riding the rugged wilderlands of Northern Arizona – living off the land and sleeping under the stars ever since the young age of eight years old. But horses are not Westlund's only love of adventure, as few of life's challenges daunt this reckless soul, from skiing snowy slopes at breakneck speed, free style mountain climbing, repelling sheer cliffs, or jumping out of a perfectly good airplane to soar the skies.
Westlund is an excellent marksman, and an accomplished martial artist of twenty-seven years, holding a forth degree black belt in traditional Okinawan karate. With an insatiable love for learning, Westlund studies history, mythology, science, medicine and the law. A free spirit who enjoys the serenity of nature on a secluded ranch in Northeastern Arizona, Westlund's greatest joy is devoted to writing stories of adventure, excitement, intrigue, and heartfelt tales.