Wrangler Dragon Read online

  Wrangler Dragon

  Texas Dragons Book 3

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  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

  Epilogue

  Sample of Onyx Dragon

  Also by Terry Bolryder

  Author’s Note

  Hi,

  Wrangler Dragon is book 3 in my brand new Texas Dragon series! You can read each as a standalone, because each book stars a new couple and their entire journey to love, including a happy ending. No cliffhangers!

  However, there are some overarching mysteries and side characters, so reading in order will give a richer experience!

  Book 1:

  Cowboy Dragon (Texas Dragons Book 1)

  Book 2:

  Rancher Dragon (Texas Dragons Book 2)

  1

  Many years ago…

  A gust of wind blew arid dust across the scene in front of Tucker C. Thompson, otherwise known as “Clancy” to his closest friends. High above, the bright Texas sun cast long shadows over the dry ground.

  Clancy had left town to visit the Millers’ homestead when someone had warned him of trouble.

  Now, a dozen men glared at him with burning gazes, faces hidden behind black bandanas and black Stetsons.

  The Bloodwolf Gang…

  Clancy took several steps forward, his spurs clinking on the rocky ground as he approached. The Miller family watched from inside the cabin, trapped and surrounded by one of the most notorious bands of outlaws the Wild West had ever seen.

  Fighting such a group was just another day for the legendary Quickdraw Dragon.

  Clancy shook his head at the ridiculous name people had bestowed upon him years ago that seemed to follow like a bad tumbleweed, getting caught up in his affairs and making his life messier than a pigpen in a hailstorm.

  “You stop right there, Thompson,” the leader of the gang called out to Clancy. Clancy instantly recognized him as Eddie Burnside, a mean cuss who was wanted in five counties for murder and armed assault.

  Clancy stopped.

  He knew why the Bloodwolves were here. The dragon’s talon, the old silver coin that promised his favor upon anyone he gave it to, was currently in the hands of the Millers. And just as his life as a gunslinger had brought trouble to him from every direction, the legend of the dragon’s talon had only grown throughout the whole of Texas, leading innumerable humans to believe it somehow had magical powers. Or, even more hilarious, that the Quickdraw Dragon’s power was somehow linked to the coin.

  It seemed humans would believe anything these days…

  “Now what can I do for you gentlemen on this fine afternoon?” Clancy kept his arms folded as the men surrounding him—watching him from perches atop the homestead and behind barrels and fences—flinched at even the slightest movement of the legendary gunslinger.

  “You know what we want. The dragon’s talon is ours now. So you’ll be doing our bidding, Thompson,” Burnside called out, standing at the entrance to the homestead.

  The poor Miller family, who were now caught up in this bullshit, hadn’t done more than take Clancy in and feed him a few months back when there’d been a bad storm. In return, he’d given them the dragon’s talon as a show of his goodwill.

  Now the coin was held aloft by Burnside, whose grin could be seen even through the black bandana he wore.

  “I’ll be doing no such thing, you dirty bastard,” Clancy replied, keeping his cool.

  As it always did, his dragon roared inside him, simmering just beneath the surface of his skin, furious these outlaws would harm innocent people just to get at him.

  And, as he always did, Clancy took long breaths, steadying his nerves. He couldn’t let the beast out. Not when there was a fight. Not in front of humans.

  So instead, years and years of experience kicked in as he appraised the scene. After hundreds of gunfights that had spanned every corner of the wild and free state of Texas, this was just another pain in his ass to be dealt with.

  “We’ll see about that,” Burnside said, and Clancy heard shuffling inside the cabin. Cries from the Millers. A moment later, another outlaw emerged from inside, holding the family’s ten-year-old son by the shirt. And when the outlaw pulled a revolver from his holster and put it to the boy’s chest, Clancy almost shifted right there.

  That idiot would be the first to go, Clancy decided.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. After all, the dragon’s talon is a myth, Burnside,” he said, hopeful to defuse the situation before there was blood.

  There had already been so much, staining his clothes and making the holy Texas earth run red as more and more villains sought fame, fortune, and notoriety in their hopes to defeat the undefeatable Quickdraw Dragon.

  “It brought you here, didn’t it?” Burnside drawled, chuckling.

  “Last chance. The second we’re done talking, I start shootin’,” Clancy said.

  Clicks of rifles and revolvers being cocked shattered the stark, empty silence around the ranch as all of Burnside’s men trained their weapons on Clancy. Unbeknownst to these humans, though, they weren’t dealing with another of their own.

  They were dealing with a dragon. A dragon who could draw faster than eyes could even track. A dragon who could shoot a bull’s-eye at a hundred yards blind. A dragon who never lost, never surrendered, and never gave in to varmints and criminals the likes of these bastards.

  Burnside, clearly not the brightest gang leader in the West, looked at the coin, then at Clancy, confused perhaps that the coin wasn’t giving him control over Clancy as expected. Clancy just knew that, after years and years roaming the West, his coin had become almost mystical in the minds of settlers and bandits alike, and the stories he’d heard were as varied as they were ridiculous.

  Perhaps it was time to be done with the damned thing for good.

  Clancy took a step forward.

  “D-don’t move another step, Quickdraw, or the Miller kid gets it!” Burnside hollered, eyes bulging with fear now.

  “I’ll do as I damn well please, you yellow-livered, lowdown piece of pond scum.” He took another step, squaring his hips, fingers itching for the cold steel of the triggers of his custom double-action revolvers.

  His dragon roared.

  Easy… he told the green monster.

  To keep focused, he counted each and every bandit watching him.

  Two on the roof with long rifles. Three scattered along the fence to the right. One watching from the window. Four hidden in the rocks on the left. Two on horses, hidden behind the house.

  “You… you really aren’t scared, are ya?” Burnside’s fear was palpable, even from thirty feet.

  “Boy, you’re about to learn the hard way that I ain’t scared of nuthin’.”

  Burnsi
de opened his mouth, commanding his men to fire, but he was too late.

  Their time was up.

  And Clancy was plumb out of patience.

  His hands were on his guns in less than a heartbeat, and two loud pops cracked the silence open as Clancy fired from the hip.

  The first bullet hit the gun belonging to the man holding the Miller kid, and it flew into the dirt. In the exact same moment, the other bullet hit the man’s foot, causing him to yelp in pain. Thankfully, the kid bolted inside the home the second he was free.

  Clancy was midstep, moving toward the house, as he trained on the men aiming at him from the rooftop. They’d be the most accurate, so they were his next targets.

  BANG. BANG.

  He hit one square in the shoulder. The other’s trigger finger flew free of his hand, cut clean by a .44-40 bullet.

  He trained on the men hiding themselves up in the rocks. Four pops. Four men fell over, clutching wounded arms, hands, or whatever part had been exposed to Clancy’s gaze that he could hit without killing them.

  In spite of his reputation as a cold-blooded killer, Clancy aimed to maim and disable, not kill.

  He’d learned a long time ago that killin’ just led to more people—angry friends and relatives seeking blind vengeance—coming after him.

  Slowly, like ants, the outlaws began to return fire as the clearing in front of the Millers’ ranch became a flurry of gunfire and smoke. Most of the remaining bandits, scared witless, fired blindly at the lone figure moving toward them, and their bullets whizzed past Clancy toward the horizon or plopped into the sandy ground at his feet.

  Two shots from the revolver on his left hip. Then two more, leaving the chambers of both guns empty, and the men hidden amongst the fence and the watcher in the window fell to their knees, moaning and begging for mercy. In the time it had taken Clancy to get twelve shots off, the two men on horseback were only barely beginning to emerge from behind the house, hooting and aiming their rifles at him.

  Clancy reached for a third gun in his vest, holding it at chest height, not even needing to use the sights to hit his mark thanks to his training and his heightened dragon abilities. One shot went clean through the reins in one rider’s hands, and when he yanked back to bring the horse around, he fell backward and hit the dirt hard, knocking him unconscious. The other took a bullet through the hand and kicked his horse into a gallop, running away as fast away as he could.

  In seconds, Clancy was almost to the house. Burnside had just watched agape as his entire band had been reduced to groaning, useless worms in as much time as it took to light a cigar.

  Burnside reached for the pistols at his sides, and two rapid shots later, the bandit’s Colt Dragoons fell to the dirt.

  Defeated, Burnside dropped to his knees. “W-w-what… what are you?” His bloodshot eyes were unblinking. “You the devil come to make us pay for our sins?”

  Clancy smirked. “No. But I deal justice all the same.” With that, Clancy cocked his fist back and then slammed Burnside in the jaw so hard a loud crack pierced the clearing, and the bandit keeled onto his side, unconscious.

  A moment later, Mr. Miller appeared at the doorway, pulling out the whining gunman who’d been hidden inside with him as he closed the door behind him. Thankfully, the rest of his family had the good sense to be out of sight where they were safe.

  Clancy let out a long, pent-up breath. The whole thing had happened in less than thirty seconds, but he still hated that good people were getting caught up in his problems.

  Mr. Miller leaned down to pick up the old silver coin lying in the dirt, and he blew dust off it as he handed it to Clancy.

  “I guess this belongs to you again,” he said with a wary smile.

  Clancy reached out to take it when he heard the click of a steel hammer being pulled back. He whirled around, instantly seeing a wounded outlaw in the dirt, gun raised at either him or Mr. Miller; he wasn’t sure.

  Clancy stepped in front of the unaware man just as the gun went off, and there was a whizzing sound followed by a sharp thunk as the bullet hit Clancy square in the chest.

  With lightning reflexes, he returned fire and hit the bandit right through the palm of his hand. The damn fool didn’t deserve to use his gun hand ever again.

  Ouch, Clancy thought, familiar with the taste of seared flesh pierced by bullets. It didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell all the same.

  He’d be fine with his dragon healing.

  Mr. Miller rushed to his side though, worried. “You’re hit. Tucker, you’re hit. We need to get you to a doctor!”

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said as red bloomed over his prim white shirt. He’d just had the damn thing cleaned and tailored too.

  He reached into the dirt and grabbed the dragon’s talon, pocketing it before it could get him or anyone else hurt twice in the same day.

  “Come inside. Rest. We need to get that bullet.”

  “No can do, partner. Sheriff’s posse will be here any minute, so get these bastards tied up before they crawl off, y’hear?” He tried to cover the blood with his vest, but Mr. Miller was dumbfounded.

  It made sense. A similar wound would kill any normal human. Which he was not.

  “You… you saved my family. And you took a bullet for me. How can I possibly repay you?”

  Clancy whistled, and a hundred yards away, his horse trotted toward him on command. He needed to be out of here as soon as possible.

  His days of gunslinging were finally going to be over.

  “You can’t. So instead, just take good care of your wife and children, okay? Just keep bein’ a good man.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have a date with destiny.” Clancy grimaced as the wound in his chest rapidly healed, just leaving him with ruined clothes and another scar he’d have for a long time.

  Mr. Miller’s face fell even harder, but he nodded resolutely. “I won’t let anyone forget what you did for us this day.”

  Clancy’s horse was already by his side, and he slung a leg up and over the saddle with ease as he holstered his pistol. He looked down, and the rest of the Millers were watching from the doorway, looking up at him with awe and sadness.

  They probably thought he was going to die. Anyone who rode out into that endless wilderness wounded like he was surely would.

  That just worked perfect for him.

  “Best you forget all about me and the dragon’s talon. It’s better that way.” With that, he nodded to the Millers and kicked his horse into a full gallop. In the distance, he could already see a cloud of dirt signaling the sheriff and his men. And even though Clancy had never done anything to anyone who didn’t have it coming, more than a few lawmen were hoping to make their own legends by bringing the Quickdraw Dragon to “justice.”

  Clancy rode the opposite direction, and in no time at all, the Millers’ homestead melted into the dusty horizon behind him.

  A short time later, he came up to a small lake, one of the landmarks he was looking for on his way to his new home.

  A few months ago, he’d come across a man by the name of Harrison. A dragon like him. Honest, hardworking, and hard in ways Clancy wasn’t.

  His horse stopped as the sun began to set, casting the Texas sky in yellow and orange and red, the sight so beautiful it was breathtaking.

  Despite the troubles that always seemed to follow him, he truly loved this land. He was glad he’d left the swamp and toxic heritage behind to travel here for a new beginning.

  He would always call Texas home, even though his life would be very different from now on.

  He pulled the coin from his pocket and stared at the thing that only brought trouble to him and the people he’d tried to help out in this wild, untamed land. But for every person, every family he’d tried to protect or assist, a dozen hungry, lawless villains had tried to do harm to him and the people he’d cared about just to get at him.

  In his mind, the talon was a curse.

  Harrison ha
d told him about the ranch he was working, far out in the West. Peace, quiet, and more space than a dragon like him could even know what to do with, he’d told Clancy.

  After so much fighting, so much blood, he was ready for a rest. Ready to make himself disappear and let the legend of Tucker C. Thompson die with the humans that knew about him. He was ready to work with horses, carve out his own space for himself, and let humans do their own thing as they trampled over each other in the race to tame the Wild West.

  He clenched the coin in his hand, then pulled it back over his shoulder and threw it out into the lake, hopefully where it would be buried forevermore.

  Even the swamp dragon inside him—that mean, bloodthirsty bastard that had gotten him through hundreds of fights so dangerous each might’ve deserved its own book—seemed calmed by this prospect.

  There was a tiny ploink sound and ripples in the center of the lake as the dragon’s talon disappeared beneath the blue surface of the water. For the tiniest moment, he almost missed the little silver coin.

  Then Clancy turned his horse west and made for Dragonclaw Ranch.

  2

  Present day…

  Billie Palmer’s fingers were tingling with excitement as she signed her name on the little electronic pad the delivery person had placed in front of her. Then, with a nod, he handed over a small brown package and made his way out the front of her family’s store.

  It was here.

  It was finally, finally here!

  She let out a squeak of excitement as she gingerly opened the box with a pair of scissors she kept behind the counter. A moment later, she opened it and an even smaller box inside.