Single Cowboy Novels & Stories

Jeremy Saccone, the chairman of Creation Enterprises, emerged from the crowd and stopped beside me with a grim expression. I calmly watched the expressions on Theodore and Cassandra's faces. Theodore's pupils shrank abruptly as he stumbled backward in terror. His face paled and broke out in a sheen of cold sweat. His throat bobbed before he finally forced out a stiff greeting. "M-Mr. Saccone…" Dad's words must have left his head buzzing. The contempt that had been on Cassandra's face vanished the instant she heard Theodore's address. All the color drained from her face, and her lips trembled.

“I assumed they both worked around here somewhere. It seems like you MC members are all connected to the club businesses one way or another.” “It’s true that quite a few of us are, but some of the guys have their own thing going on. Like I said, Cowboy has his own ranch and Cain works there for him, but he took some time off to do guard duty for you.” “Ah. Right. But if you’re upstairs, you’re on guard duty?”

Four knew where we were. “North,” Kieran said. “Alaska. Yukon. _Nowhere_.” Gregor burst in. “Riders,” he said. We froze. “How many?” “One.” Kieran was moving before Gregor finished. We ran to the ridge. Below, on the dirt road, a motorcycle. And a man. No helmet. Black hair. Eyes like _void_. Project 1. He was _alone_. He was _walking_. And he was _carrying_ something.

Friday night meant the usual crowd: locals blowing off steam, truckers passing through, and the occasional drifter looking for trouble or a cold one. She owned the place with her uncle, but he mostly played cards in the back these days. Tess ran it. Short denim cutoffs, black tank top, scuffed boots, and a no-bullshit attitude that kept hands from wandering too far. Until tonight. He walked in around ten, ducking under the low doorframe. Tall, broad, dusty black cowboy hat pulled low. Dark stubble, sharp green eyes, a faded denim shirt stretched across shoulders that looked like they hauled fence posts and men twice his size. Colt Rivers. She’d heard the name from regulars—drifter rancher, s

Alexander seated in his throne with legs crossed as he gazed on the clan members below him. They were all laughing and celebrating because of the success in their bombardment to the L.A headquarter. Not only that, they were able to capture potential men and women who will be used in dealing with the their clan activities. Just then the door suddenly opened that made everyone froze and tilted their heads into the entrance door. The representatives of the other two factions made their grand entrance with the leadership of Sam Well , the second Boss of the Black Wolf's faction. Alexander noticed a young boy being carried by Melo, the new representative of the Fary Wolf Clan faction. He noticed

He’s very muscular and drool worthy. “Oh, my bad I'm a little buzzed here cowboy,” Kim laughed. “How do you know my name have we met before?” Cowboy asked. “Ah no I just call guys who wear cowboy hats, cowboy, when I don't know their name.” Kim replied. “Well lucky guess. My name is Cowboy, and this here is my friend Smokey,” Cowboy introduced. “Where's the bandit?” Raine asked laughing. “Ha ha good one, like I haven’t heard that before,” Smokey fake laughed.

Parting was more amiable than he would have expected. The chief was pleased with the quality of horses and saddles that were traded for Aiden. Aiden did his best to hide his emotions as he said goodbye to his prize gelding. He knew they had no other option than to trade for him, but he would miss his old friend. A cowboy and his horse were a partnership. He knew he’d be lost without him for some time. As for the saddle, of course the chief was happy with it. It was crafted with the finest leather and custom made to fit his horse’s back; like a man would have a shoe made especially for his foot. The saddles on the other two horses were nothing to scoff at. Although they weren’t custom made

Standing on the poles, the cowboys would climb on the bulls' backs and shout ‘Open’. We watched as the cowboys tried to stay on the bulls. We were shouting and clapping. We both had our favorite. “No, stay, No..No” I was shouting at one that almost made it. Candice and I laughed and then turned our attention to the next cowboy. There were different types of things they did and we enjoyed them all. Enjoying the relaxed time. Enjoyed my friend that I never really had because of not staying too long in one place. Everywhere there were people walking and couples sitting whispering something in each other’s ears. Why is it that everyone has someone they “love”. The guy that holds the girl tightly

He had to admit this place wasn't as bad as he'd expected. He let his gaze wander around the shop, taking in things he hadn't really noticed yesterday. The artwork on the walls, for instance. Yesterday, they had been blurs of color. Today, he realized they were great examples of contemporary Western art. The style was very distinctive and arresting. Someone had lovingly painted a magnificent stallion, a small herd of horses galloping across a pasture, a tired cowboy at the end of a long day, and other similar scenes. Whoever this was might have come from Montana like he had, because the essence of the cowboy had been captured perfectly.

The rodeo grounds smelled of dust, leather, and adrenaline. Floodlights cut through the warm Texas night as the final event of the evening wrapped up. Felix Anderson, 24, stood near the chutes, heart still racing from the spectacle he’d just witnessed. He was a city boy through and through , slim, clean-cut, with neatly styled light brown hair and a button-down shirt that looked wildly out of place among the cowboy hats and Wranglers. He had come to the small-town rodeo on a whim during a weekend road trip, expecting cheap entertainment and cold beer.