Windmill Whirled

Coming Soon

Confessions of a DL Cowboy — Prequel Novella — Book 3

The cost of a seat at the table.

Scott Danner comes to the Rafter T looking for another ranch job and finds himself in a valley beneath the Tetons, working for a man named Shawn Palmer.

Shawn runs the crew. He’s broad, steady, good with horses, and not much interested in talking just to hear himself do it. When something goes wrong, he thinks it through, says what needs doing, and gets back to work.

Scott has known plenty of men who liked being watched.

Shawn doesn’t seem to be one of them.

That should make him easier to ignore. It doesn’t.

Before long, Scott is noticing the way Shawn handles a horse, the way he works beside another man without taking over, and the small things he does when nobody is paying attention. A cup of coffee left where Scott will find it. A tool passed before he has to ask. Help offered without making him feel like he needed rescuing.

Then a two-day boundary ride takes them into the high country together.

There are fences to repair, horses to manage, bad ground underfoot, and Wyoming weather that can change its mind faster than either of them would like. Somewhere between the work and the long hours beside each other, Scott starts wondering whether the thing growing between them might be simpler than he’s used to.

Of course, simple doesn’t mean easy.

Windmill Whirled is the third of six prequel novellas leading to Rodeo Clown, following Scott Danner from eighteen to twenty-five through the ranches, roads, men, and choices that shape the person he will become.

Coming Soon

Releasing after Trailer Thrashed — the third of six prequels leading up to Rodeo Clown.

From the Novel

“The laughter from the table came through the thin wall. John’s voice riding above it, that pitch he hit when he had people right where he wanted them. A little louder than necessary. A little warmer than honest. The new kid laughed again, high and eager, and I stood there with my hands in the duffel and wondered how long it would take that boy to figure out the cost of a seat at John’s table. I pulled the sheets off the bunk and folded them. Set the stack on the bare mattress. The tick-stripe was stained where I’d sweated through it in July. Six months of nights in this bed. Listening to John snore on the other side of the wall.”