The herd was dying.
And somebody wanted it that way.
When prime longhorns start turning up dead along the dry stretch between Broken Horn and Silver Mesa, ranchers whisper about sickness. Tate Rawlins knows better. A bullet wound doesn't come from drought.
What begins as a trail job turns into something darker when Rawlins finds himself caught between desperate cattlemen, hired gunmen, and a shadowy outfit buying up ruined spreads for pennies. The killings aren't random. They're calculated.
And the next target won't have horns.
With rifles watching from the high grass and a range war ready to explode, Rawlins must ride straight into the heart of the ambush. Because on the cattle trail, justice doesn't wear a badge.
It rides armed.
And when blood soaks into prairie dust, somebody's going to pay for every drop.
