THE OUTLAW'S DAUGHTER - Margaret Brownley - One Free book - THE COWBOY MEETS HIS MATCH

Welcome back, Margaret. Do you have a favorite genre to write? If so, what is it?

I write historical romance for two reasons. Every theme known to mankind can be explored through two people falling in love. That gives writers a lot of leeway. I set my novels in the Old West because everything that is happening now, happened back then (even pandemics). How people handled the problems in the past and, yes, even thrived, is encouraging and can give us hope.

If you didn’t live in the part of the country where you do, where would you live?

I’ve been lucky to live in many parts of the country and, though every state has its merits, I love living in California, mainly because of the weather. I also love the extremes. My family has found memories of traipsing through the snow to cut down a Christmas tree and stopping at a warm, sunny beach on the way home—all within an hour’s drive.

What foreign country would you like to visit and why?

I’ve traveled extensively, but never made it to Italy. That’s still on my bucket list.

Describe what you think would be the most romantic vacation you could take.

My husband and I vacationed in Paris. One moonlit night, we were taking a romantic cruise along the Seine. Then the most unromantic thing happened. A group of hooligans dumped a barrel of oil on our boat as we came from underneath a bridge, and we were drenched. No more boat rides for me.

That’s terrible. Tell us about The Outlaw’s Daughter.

Ellie-May has fought all her life to prove that she’s not like her outlaw father. Not until her husband dies a hero, does she finally earn the town’s respect. This changes when Texas Ranger Matt Taggert rides into town and accuses her late husband of robbing a stage. Now she must fight to save her children from the stigma of an outlaw father.

Please give us the first page of the book

Haywire, Texas

1887

“Hold it right there, mister!”

Matt Taggert froze in place. The woman’s voice sounded serious, as did the metallic click announcing she was armed.

Not wanting to alarm her, he held his hands out where they could be seen and turned to face her, taking it nice and easy like.

The owner of the voice stood at the entrance of the barn, the sun behind her back. The woman was small in stature but nonetheless looked like she meant business. Least her shotgun sure enough did.

Loosely braided hair the color of silken corn fell from beneath a floppy felt hat. Keen blue eyes looked him up and down, stopping momentarily to study the Colt hanging from his side and the badge on his leather vest. Apparently, nothing she saw relieved her mind as her weapon remained pointed at his chest.

“You can put your shotgun down, ma’am,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

Matt’s assurances won him no favor, and the shotgun didn’t budge. “What are you doing, snooping ’round my property?” she demanded.

“Name’s Taggert. Matt Taggert, Texas Ranger,” he said. When even his name and profession didn’t convince her to lower her weapon, he added, “I’m looking for Neal Blackwell. I knocked on the door of the house, but there was no answer. Thought maybe I’d find him here in the barn.”

“Well, you thought wrong, mister.”

He studied the woman with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am, who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Mrs. Blackwell.”

“Mrs.—” That was a surprise. If her husband did indeed rob a stage, he sure in blazes hadn’t spent any of the stolen loot on his wife. Her sinewy body looked like it had been shaped by hard work and even harder times. If that wasn’t bad enough, her dress had enough patches to shingle a roof. The scuffed leather boots showing beneath the frayed hem of her skirt fared no better.

Nor did the animals in the barn, which included one skinny milk cow and a swaybacked mare.

Nevertheless, the woman earned his begrudging respect. Despite her shabby attire, she held herself with a quiet dignity that seemed at odds with her circumstances. He sensed that her squared shoulders stemmed from hard-earned inner strength.

“I need to talk to your husband,” he said.

Some emotion he couldn’t decipher flickered across her face. “Well, you won’t find him here.”

“If you’ll kindly tell me where I can find him, I’ll be on my way.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes, and he could almost see the cogwheels turning in her head. “What business does a Texas Ranger have with Neal?”

Before he could answer, a boy no older than five or six appeared by her side and tugged on her apron. “Mama?”

Dressed in knee pants and a checkered red shirt, the child peered at Matt from beneath a black slouch hat. A handsome lad, he had his mother’s blond hair and big blue eyes. He also matched his mother’s determined demeanor.

Matt grimaced. He hadn’t counted on Blackwell being a family man. Nothing worse than having to arrest a man in front of his children. It was bad enough cuffing one in the presence of his wife. But if Blackwell couldn’t answer Matt’s questions, arresting him was a real possibility.

The woman’s stance didn’t waver, but her voice softened as she addressed her son. “Go back to the house, Lionel. Mama’s busy right now.”

Before leaving, the boy looked Matt up and down, curiosity written on his little round face. “Is he a bad man, Mama?”

“Let’s hope for his sake he’s not,” his mama replied. “Now, go.”

Lionel’s face grew more solemn as his probing eyes met Matt’s. Matt winked in hopes of relieving the boy’s mind, but the stoic look remained. Never had Matt seen a child so young look so serious.

“Go,” his mother repeated, and this time Lionel left without further ado.

Mrs. Blackwell gave her shotgun a shake as if to remind Matt she meant business. “You still haven’t told me what you want with Neal.”

Matt couldn’t think of a tactful way to explain his business, so he came right out with it. “I need to talk to him about a stage robbery that took place last year.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Why?”

Partly because of the shotgun and partly because something about the woman brought out his protective instincts, Matt chose his next words with care. “I have reason to believe your husband has…certain information that would be helpful in my investigation.”

She discounted his explanation with a toss of her head. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. Least not till I talk to your husband.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “If you think Neal had anything to do with that robbery, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“That may be true,” he said slowly. “But I still need to talk to him. It’s the only way I can wrap up my business and—”

“You’ll wrap up your business a whole lot quicker if you just leave now.”

I love what I’ve read so far. How can readers find you on the Internet?

www.margaret-brownley.com

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Thank you, Margaret, for sharing this book with my blog readers and me. I’m eager to read the rest of the story.

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