My Cowboy Novels & Stories

“Bad enough that if these get out, your wife will see exactly what her daughter looks like when she comes. Bad enough that the charity board will have a field day. You need to wire the rest today or this explodes.” Marcus cursed under his breath. Reynolds heard movement, like the man was pacing. “I already sent half. Tell them the rest is coming. Buy me time.” Reynolds leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked under his weight. “Time for what? You’ve been saying that for weeks. This thing with the girl… it’s making you sloppy. Kane knows it. He’s using her as leverage now.” “Do not talk about her,” Marcus snapped. Reynolds almost laughed. Almost. “I’ve seen the files, boss. Project Cowgi

I have my friends here, which I don't need anymore. Anyway, enjoy your life. In Texas, I heard it's a cowboy town. Where do you live? Are you a cowboy? or cowgirl? Anyway, I'm not bothered. This was a letter I only wrote so I wouldn't fail my class. I have to go now, but I hope you have an okay life. Not your friend, Max

She sighed. “The cowboy said despicable things to you. I know. But, I believe those things were said out of shock and anger at what you two had lost. He took it out on you because you were the one that . . . witnessed it all,” he said as he kneaded her shoulders. “You don’t know him. He always says what he means,” Jodi whined and pouted. “You didn’t see his face after you left. It was like . . . he realized that he had made the biggest mistake of his life.”

I sighed and said, “Don’t you dare tell mom and dad.” “What are you doing and why is it a secret?” Jacob asked in a gruff voice. “Calm down dude, it's nothing that bad.” Corbin stirred in his sleep and opened his eyes lazily to look around and out the window. That didn’t last long. “That bad?” Jacob asked in irritation. I huffed and said, “I’m following the rodeo circuit through some of the western states. I’ve been riding broncs and some bulls, but it’s nothing like riding these damn cowgirls that follow me around.”

Not a chance he was willing to take. For the millionth time Colby’s thoughts turned to Channing. He knew that wasn’t why she’d bailed—because he was no longer a rodeo cowboy, now that injury had forced him into being just an ordinary Wyoming rancher. He doubted she’d skipped back to her old life after she’d had her sexual adventure of traveling the rodeo circuit with a trio of cowboys.

Pissed mainly at that flutter in his stomach when she said she'd come back later—a feeling that wasn't fear, but rather, anticipation? "Shit," he grumbled into the pillow, burying his face in it. Serenity Creek had turned into a minefield, and he, Ethan Callahan, the toughest cowboy in the county, was stepping on all the bombs. And the nurse with the brown eyes was the biggest one.

He'd shut them down with a glare and returned to the ranch house which was quiet as a tomb. He hadn't intended to drink what was left in the half-full bottle of Jim Beam. Or had it been half-empty? That was a damn stupid argument, if you asked him. Any way you sliced it, he'd drained that bottle dry, all the while replaying the last week in his mind. What in the hell had possessed him to imagine that a city lawyer could come out to west butt-crack Idaho and fall in love with a cowboy like himself? Or better yet, that he could fall in love with her?

She said in her still calm voice. “Emma get behind me!” Lucas shouted. Emma quickly ducked behind Lucas. “Smart move. I could have shot her in the first moment if that was what I wanted to do. So, really rather pointless nonetheless.” “Shoot this fucker in the head already!” The cowboy yelled, abandoning his country accent. The head woman pulled the trigger, and her pistol fired. Lucas saw the flame spew from the barrel and closed his eyes. In the next moment he felt the full weight of the cowboy drop from his arm and thud on the ground.

because regardless of their uniform for the evening, they always have a white cowboy hat, like a hero from an old spaghetti western. And just like characters from westerns, they all have ridiculous sounding nicknames that they use in lieu of their names–like “The Kid” or “Steel Toe Joe” or “Whiplash Jake”, a tip of the hat, so to speak, to Diamond Devine’s country background.

I ordered and hung up immediately. Behind me, the older man stammered, “It’s— it's a pleasure to have you here, sir. Which of our mares would you prefer?” I turned around, “And who are you?” I asked, watching Cowboy Hat and his partner shifting nervously on their feet. “I'm Oscar, the ranch manager—” “These idiots,” I cut him off, my voice low but taunting, “thought it was wise to let my wife ride off—alone?” My anger exploded in full.