Cowboy Dragon
Texas Dragons Book 1
Terry Bolryder
Copyright © 2021 by Terry Bolryder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Sample of Onyx Dragon (Awakened Dragons 1)
1
“Just a little farther, Rusty,” Harrison said, pressing his heels into his horse’s flanks, keeping his mount moving as the sight of his beloved ranch came into view.
Rusty, as if also excited to get home and finally take a rest, almost leapt into a gallop, but Harrison held the reins back.
“I know, boy, I know. It’s been a long day for both of us.”
Overhead, the blazing blue sky was starting to dim, a faint orange glow on the horizon beckoning the blaring sun down to its resting place beyond the mountains in the west. Streaks of clouds painted in multicolored glory made lazy trails into the distance, and Harrison instantly remembered why he did what he did.
For a dragon like him, there was no price for freedom this pure.
Dragonclaw Ranch got closer and closer, and up ahead, he could hear the shouts and chatter of the rest of his crew as they finished up the day’s duties. A minute later, he was pulling up into the central clearing, right in front of the main homestead.
But try as he might, there had been an odd, unsettling feeling following him around all day. Even his faithful stallion seemed to feel it too, being more temperamental than he usually was on such a relatively normal day.
“Hey, boss, how’d it go?” Beck, his second-in-command (when he wasn’t drunk), walked past, pausing as he carried two bales of hay in each hand with ease on his way to the barn.
“The cattle are lazy as ever,” Harrison replied. “I swear, the nicer the weather, the more stubborn they get.”
Beck’s huge height and width made even the largest of livestock feel small in comparison. His dark beard and piercing gray eyes added to the picture to create a man that intimidated most people.
But that was just dragons for you.
Beck shrugged and strolled away, whistling an off-key tune as he went.
“Hey, Clancy,” Harrison called, and the third dragon he ran the ranch with appeared from the stables, taking off pigskin gloves and tossing them aside as he did. Even in spite of his fringed vest, chaps, white Stetson, and too-handsome looks for a place as remote as this, Clancy was the best wrangler he’d ever known in his entire life.
Which, for a dragon, was a damn long time.
With his collar-length, wheat-colored hair and gleaming green eyes, Clancy drew stares whenever they went to town.
“Yup?” he called back with that classic Texan drawl, green eyes glinting. “What can I do ya for?”
“Stop wasting my time looking pretty and tell me how that mare’s doing?”
“Real healthy. I think she’ll foal just fine.”
“What about Reno? Did he get the tractor fixed like I asked?”
Before Clancy could respond, the door to the garage opened off to their left.
“Way ahead of you, boss,” Reno, their newest hire from a few years ago, said loudly. His short, light-blond hair was mussed, his light-blue eyes mischievous as usual. He was grinning in a way that showed a sharp canine that showed his lupine ancestry. For a wolf shifter, he wasn’t half bad.
But he was no dragon.
“I didn’t ask you,” Harrison growled, and Reno disappeared back into the garage, smart enough to not test Harrison’s patience today.
Good dog.
“Yeah, he did it,” Clancy said. “Haven’t tested it myself yet, but I trust his word enough to believe him when he says it’s good to go.”
“Well, I don’t trust a man’s word until he’s fully earned it,” Harrison replied, and Clancy raised an eyebrow up at him.
“Do you trust mine?”
He glared down at his friend. “No.”
Clancy just laughed in that cheery, disarming way that made women throw themselves at him. “Whatever you say, Cap.” He gave Rusty a quick scratch behind the ears, then walked off to probably check the tractor.
Harrison hated being called that.
He was a cowboy, not a sailor.
As if on cue, without needing to be asked, a tall figure with deep amber eyes and wild black hair was standing on the other side of Rusty. Any other man would have been caught off guard by the silence with which the last member of their crew moved around, but Harrison was just used to it by now.
“Dallas?” He didn’t even need to ask a specific question. Dallas just had a way of knowing what you were thinking before you said it.
The tiger shifter just nodded, then joined Beck in grabbing more hay to move into the barn.
Harrison let out a long breath, letting the dry breeze cool him as it filtered through the courtyard of the ranch. Pretty soon, the spring rains would start pouring in, and the work the five of them would need to do would double overnight.
Maybe this year he’d hire a few extra hands.
But extra hands meant he had to keep his eyes open at all times. People, especially humans, were not to be trusted under any circumstances, something he’d learned after a long life of dealing with the short-lived creatures.
Being a cowboy meant being as rugged and tough as the wild land they lived on. And no human had yet impressed him enough to be worth keeping for more than a couple months before they were sent packing.
He scratched the back of his neck. What was this strange feeling? Like the prickling sensation you get before lightning strikes.
It wasn’t until he turned and saw Dallas, gaze pinned southward toward the horizon, that Harrison took a look himself.
And saw smoke.
Well, not smoke. More like a faint haze of gray, less than even a campfire would let out.
And it was coming from the road that led up to the ranch.
“Who the hell failed to bring this to my attention earlier?” Harrison said, loud enough to call the focus of the whole yard, and everyone stopped what they were doing.
“What do you figure it is? A brushfire?” Reno asked, squinting as he sniffed the air. “Hm, no, more like burnt engine oil.”
“Did you know about this?” Harrison was getting annoyed, which was making him angry.
Reno shook his head fiercely.
“Want me to fly out there and find out?” Beck offered, always the first to jump at the opportunity to let his dragon out.
“I can drive down the road. Maybe it’s just a dust devil or something,” Clancy said with a shrug.
“Y’all stay here. I’m going to check it out,” Harrison said decisively.
If there was trouble, he was going to be the one who made the decision on what to do about it, not Beck or Clancy.
Dallas gave him an eager glance, wanting to join, but Harrison jus
t kicked his horse into a trot and made for the iron arch that marked the entrance to the Dragonclaw Ranch.
Whatever was up, he had half a mind to just let his dragon burn first and ask questions later.
But as he made his way down the road, he had a feeling something much bigger was up. Something that would probably be a thorn in his side the size of Texas.
His too-long day was just about to get longer.
2
Steam and smoke erupted from the engine compartment of Marian’s beat-up green Thunderbird as she popped the hood. She had to back away for fear of getting burned to let it all clear before moving closer to take a better look.
“Okay, talk to me, Freddie,” Marian said to herself as she tried to look past the dissipating mist. But all she saw was a jumble of steel, tubes, and something that definitely looked like an engine, but she wasn’t even quite sure about that.
This was what she got for not listening to the mechanic last time Freddie had been in the shop.
That was… oh, two years ago?
Marian just ran a hand slowly down her face, feeling her frustration grow and nearly on the verge of tears.
After a string of bad luck that had spanned practically her whole life, it felt like fate was having one final, hilarious laugh at her expense.
And now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, on a road that probably led to nowhere, headed to a ranch that wasn’t even on Google to ask a man she’d never met for something she would never, ever ask anyone for unless she was at the literal end of her rope.
Marian, meet end of rope. Rope end, Marian, she thought to herself.
She looked down the dirt road, and a gust of wind threw up clouds of dust and sand, getting in her eyes and feeling like hell as she tried to dislodge the rogue specks.
Thanks, world. I really, really needed that just now…
She’d tried as hard as she could to find anything about a Dragonclaw Ranch, or a Harrison, or even just, “What does a silver dollar with a huge gash in it mean?” but she’d come up with nothing.
She felt in her pocket, feeling the worn, cold metal against her hand. The last keepsake from her father, as full of mystery and tall tales as this forsaken, beautiful wilderness surrounding her probably was.
If you’re ever in trouble, find Harrison at the Dragonclaw Ranch and show him this. He’ll help you out. The reminder from her father when he’d first given her the coin was still burned into her memory.
Maybe her dad had just been crazy after too many years in the sun, working as a cowboy. Maybe the legends he’d told her of three handsome, rugged cowboys who brought the untamed West to its knees were just booze and loneliness talking.
She’d had plenty of both those things as an adult.
Now all she wanted was a fresh start and enough money to put a full tank of gas into Freddie without breaking the bank.
If she could afford to get Freddie repaired first, that was.
In frustration, she kicked the bumper of her car. In retaliation, or just bad luck, she hit the steel frame of the car instead of the bumper, and Marian walked away from her car, cursing and limping as she tried to collect herself after a full day’s drive with only water and a half-eaten bag of Cheetos to sustain her.
She yanked the silver dollar out of her pocket and pulled her arm back, ready to throw the damn thing away. But before she could, it caught a bright glint of the setting sun, and she held it a little longer.
Marian had held on to this thing since she was a little girl, still young enough to believe in good men and happy endings. But harsh reality had taught her neither of those things existed, just heartbreak and bitterness.
A couple years ago, she had even tried to pawn off the coin, the “Dragon’s Talon” her father had called it. It was certainly old, at least a hundred years or more. But because of the huge slash across the front, it was “worthless” except to be melted down, and she didn’t have the heart to destroy such a precious keepsake, even if others deemed it valueless.
She took a breath, then assessed her options.
Keep walking and possibly die of starvation because this road actually leads to nowhere? Or hole up in her car and hope the Texas desert chill didn’t get her first?
Choices, choices.
Marian was about to turn to head back to Freddie when a snarl suddenly jolted her attention.
Fords don’t snarl…
To her dismay, her car hadn’t suddenly learned to talk. Instead, she was face to face with a pack of at least a dozen coyotes, all mangy and flea-bitten and much bigger than the coyotes she’d seen on television when she was younger.
Her dad had always told her things were just bigger in Texas.
But the parts of Texas she’d lived in had never had coyotes.
“Shoo, get out of here!” Marian shouted, waving her arms. But the coyotes didn’t back away. In fact, they were advancing in a wide semicircle, fangs bared and blocking her escape to the safety of her car.
Marian looked around for a stick and grabbed the biggest one she could reach. But the stick, though it would have made a perfect spit for roasting marshmallows, was entirely unfrightening to the rabid-looking pack, and they just got closer.
Since when were coyotes supposed to attack humans?
Then again, they looked hungry enough, and she was sure as hell stranded enough to make an easy meal for them.
Marian gulped.
Of course it had to be coyotes. She could see the end of her rope literally skittering off the edge of a cliff, ready to send her falling to the earth.
The closest coyote snapped, and Marian backed up, her heel hitting a rock and sending her falling to her butt on the dusty ground.
This was it…
Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air, and Marian looked up to locate the source of the disturbance.
“Get outta here, you damn varmints!” a powerful, masculine voice even more commanding than the gunshot called out.
Immediately, the coyotes scattered, barking and hollering in dismay as they disappeared behind shrubs and rocks in haphazard fashion.
Marian looked up, and her heart throbbed in her chest like an engine about to explode.
Her gaze was met by two eyes so blue they put the noonday sky to shame. The person they belonged to was pure male, rippling muscle from head to toe, with a face as beautiful as an angel and a body built for sinning. She could see his perfect, carved jaw tense as he looked down at her, arched brows furrowed, appraising her closely. Even his nose was straight, and he had long lashes that only further framed the intense blues of his irises.
But as she looked him over, Marian knew she was in trouble. From the top of his Stetson to the gentle click of his spurs and everything in between (especially his partially open shirt that revealed a powerful chest and just a hint of rippling abs), only one thing was for sure about him.
This man was all cowboy.
And there was nothing more she hated in this world than cowboys.
“Who the hell are you?” She spoke first.
He just frowned down at her in response, accentuating his full lips and high cheekbones.
“Those are big words, considering I just saved your ass.”
“I had it handled,” she said back, standing up and wiping dust off her butt.
The man shifted on his horse, and she realized that not only was his horse a few hands bigger than the average she’d seen over the years, but its rider was huge, making his mount look small by comparison. He smirked at her, and Marian nearly forgot her hatred of cowboys in that moment.
“Handled like a steer charging off a ravine, yeah. You were two seconds from being coyote kibble.”
Welcome back, hatred of cowboys.
“I didn’t need your help.” Marian tried to ignore him, going back to her car to look at the still lightly smoking engine. “I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe so, but you’re trespassing, and I want you off my land, lady.”
“Don’t
call me lady. My name’s Marian.”
He paused, expression cool as he looked her up and down, making her shiver from head to toe. But she guarded her expression. She wasn’t going to show her hand to a lousy cowpoke like him.
“Apologies to the lady,” he said unapologetically. “Get off my land, Marian.”
She was about to tell him exactly where he could shove all that land, when it finally dawned on her that someone had, in fact, come to help her. Which meant there was a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. And if there was a ranch, there was a chance she could find and talk to Harrison.
Of course, Harrison would be more her father’s age—if her dad had still been alive—probably in his fifties or even sixties by now.
This guy didn’t look a day over thirty.
“As you can see, my car broke down.”
“Not my problem.”
“And I’m looking for someone.”
“If you’re looking for anything but dirt and scrubs, this sure as hell is the wrong place to look.”
She pressed on. “I’m trying to find Harrison. Do you know him?”
His expression was suddenly cold, a perfect poker face. He just watched her, and Marian stood there as the wind blew a dry tumbleweed over the dirt road between them.
“I know him,” the cowboy finally said. “But what business could a city slicker like yourself possibly have with Harrison?”
Marian rubbed her temples. She was getting nowhere, and she didn’t think this guy would have any clue what the dragon’s talon was even if she threw the silver dollar at his damn face.
“That’s none of your business. My business is with Harrison.”
“Harrison doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” His eyes shuttered, glowering. “Neither do I.”
Cowboy Dragon Page 1