Frontier Marshal Novels & Stories

the sheriff said as he stepped into the cool, dim interior of the boarding house. Angus opened the telegram and eagerly read it. RENEGADE TROUBLE. COME HOME. M. J. He crumpled the telegraph in his fists as he wrestled with the situation. He and Aiden were clearly needed back at the ranch. Although the territory was attracting settlers, it still had a long way to go. In the meantime, there was s group of Cherokee and hostile Mexicans that gave them more trouble than they cared to admit. It was the main reason Aiden worked to become so proficient a shot.

"I hadn't even known that's where it was, Marshal. I actually sent warriors to the North Edge colonies to look in the woods out there, trying to find your headquarters." Marshal appears weak in this moment, along with seeming rather perplexed. "If you didn't free them, who did?" "Free whom?" Marshal glances sideways. "There were a few rogues there from an old trial. They were just being studied long term, nothing too serious, but they were all broken free three days ago." My heart goes cold in my chest. "Studied for what, Marshal?"

Marcus With a groan, Marcus stood behind his massive desk, stretching his shoulders as he decided it was time for a break. His day had started before dawn when the border patrols detected rogue activity on the northern border of the pack. Marcus and his Beta, Jackson, had investigated the border themselves before returning to the pack house to review security schedules. This resulted in hours of work with nothing to show for it. They saw no rouges and found no evidence of their purpose. That was sixteen hours ago. All Marcus wanted was dinner and fifteen minutes of peace.

Lifting the heavy saber felt like an impossible task, and his arms ached as if they weren't even his own. His armor had been too heavy for him to escape from an enemy ambush. If not for the intervention of others, his neck would have been cut by the enemy's sword. Of course, Oliver was a marshal now; he didn't have to lead the charge anymore. But at the Southern Frontier, there was a tradition: even marshals had to lead their troops on the battlefield, not hide away in the marshal's residence giving orders. That was one of the bad rules Hector and Rafael had set.

Tyr grinned and remarked, “No wonder you finally decided to settle down in this city for such a long time after moving to so many different places.” The trio chatted while they walked. After a while, they arrived at the Marshal Manor. As soon as the trio arrived at the manor’s gate, they saw a middle-aged man leaving the building with a squad of lieutenants. He wore a marshal’s outfit and had a shiny bald head. This man was Marshal Nelson, who was nicknamed Baldy. “Mr. Cheever, I appreciate your hard work,” Marshal Nelson greeted them enthusiastically. “Marshal, these two are my friends from the outside world.” Max immediately introduced Tyr and Magus to him. “This time, I relied on them to

Abigail tried her best to maintain her smile. “Thank you. I will wear it with pride.” Charlotte scampered off to rejoin the women she had been knitting with, talking and smiling with the group. One of the warriors approached the head guard, Beta Austin, who was standing and watching Charlotte from afar. He was in charge of all the informants they had in other packs. “The informant reported that a few packs on the frontier were attacked.” “Details?” Austin asked curtly. “It seems that some of the outlying packs have been attacked sporadically. There were a few casualties, but there weren’t too many involved in these first incursions.”

Well, he'd been told they didn't come cheap, and the retainer he'd sent was a hell of a lot more than pocket change. It was more than worth the expense, however. If his ranch became a known passage for people trafficking in illegal aliens, drugs, and who knew what else, the Border Patrol or the Texas Rangers, or maybe both, could come in and shut him down. Not to mention the danger of having such traffic on his land. He felt comfortable knowing everyone on the team was former military. Mason himself had served a tour in Afghanistan four years ago and had confidence he was getting seasoned warriors. "Better bring the truck out," he told Stick. "They'll have equipment to haul to the bunkhouse.

Kayson looked at him, and the man introduced himself, “My name is Campian Wolke. I'm the captain of the eighth division for Admiralporium's Skyriv Department. “May I know your name, sir?” “You can call me Kayson Yarde.” Campian continued. “Mr. Yarde, are you Ms. Hendery’s boyfriend?” Kayson hesitated for a while before nodding. Then, Campian filled Kayson in on everything that had happened. It turned out that a few outlaws had been causing havoc in Northspring these few days, and their appearance had put the safety of the ordinary people at risk. What’s more, the strongest of them was a master-level fighter, and the weakest was an energy practitioner at the middle stage. If no one was going

“Tim Houston. The King of Oakwood.” The name alone made tension explode through the atmosphere. Marten’s jaw flexed sharply. His eyes darkened into something colder than rage. Something lethal. “And what did you tell them?” The warrior stood straighter immediately. “I told them no stray wolf had been found in Tombstone territory.” Silence again. Marten stared at him for several long seconds before giving one slow nod. “Good.” But I could still feel the anger radiating from him. Violent, protective and possessive. The warrior bowed quickly before stepping back.

The packless, dark-skinned cowboy had been managing to survive in the human world by working as a mule for drug traffickers across the southern Texas border. It had been a situation born of exploitation and necessity, and it hadn’t taken more than a single conversation to convince Sterling to give up that life and join their cause. The rebel wolf had been all too eager to leave, to find a home and a purpose.