A Western Adventure by Ronnie Ashmore A simple trip to Austin so his wife can shop is anything but simple for Sam Bolton. Caroline is attacked and gunned down in the streets by an outlaw with a taste for killing. With her life in the balance, Sam sets off to find the man responsible. Along the way he discovers that chasing this outlaw will test his limits and his patience. Teaming up with the man’s cousin, they follow the killer’s crooked trail of destruction and deception. This is one trail Sam Bolton won’t let go cold because this time he is riding to settle a score with the man who shot his wife. Excerpt The man stared at Sam, “Knew you’d be comin’. What happened was an accident.” “It was no accident. Colin Cook shot my wife. Are you protectin’ him?” Sam fixed the man with a stare that could have drawn blood. The man shook his head and smiled. “He’s a cousin. He told us you were some big-time gun man and to watch for you.” “I ain’t gonna shoot you, big man,” Sam said. “What’s your name?” he took a step closer. “Witt. Folks call me Witt.” “Well, half-wit, I’m gonna beat you with my fists until you tell me where Cook is.” “Fists? There is no way you..,” Witt said. Sam hit him. Flush in the mouth, splitting his lips and causing blood to flow. The man was dazed but only for a moment. Sam hit him again with a right across the face. Witt took the blow and swung a left of his own that caught Sam on the side of the head. Sam ducked a right from Witt, then came up with a brutal uppercut that connected on Witt’s chin, knocking the bigger man backwards off balance. Sam moved in, throwing a left and a right to the body, hearing the wind escape from Witt. Stepping back, Sam swung a hard right hand to the face of Witt. Witt turned at the last second and the blow was ineffective. Witt swung a fast left hand that caught Sam in the face, cutting his cheek, blood was flowing. Both men stepped back sizing the other up. Sam wiped blood from his face, Witt felt his battered lips. The bartender was yelling to get out of the saloon to fight. Both men ignored him. Witt smiled at Sam, “You hit hard.” Sam wiped his cheek again, “You wanted this. I am going to find Cook. He shot my wife like a dog.” Witt dropped his hands and stood straighter. Looking around the room, he looked back at Sam. “What?” Sam didn’t want to let his guard down, but he sensed the fight was over. He relaxed his fighting stance and told Witt the story of how Colin Cook shot his wife. “Barkeep! Bring a bottle, some glasses, and a towel. Have a seat Mister, let’s talk about this,” Witt said, sitting at a table in the back of the room. “You’re family of his?” Sam said sitting down. The bartender brought the items Witt had requested. He handed a glass to each man along with a wet towel, the bottle he sat on the table. Witt poured the drinks, as Sam wiped his bloodied face and waited. “He’s a cousin, like I said. But we ain’t close. He paid me a hundred dollars to keep watch for you and head you off.” “I’m sure he got more than that from the bank robbery. Either way, I don’t care about the money. I care that he shot my wife on the way out.” Witt downed his drink, flinching as the whisky burned his cut lips. He poured himself another. Sam sipped his drink, watching the man carefully. “Cook made it sound as if he was being shot at and hit the woman by mistake. How he told the story anyway.