Diamonds and Dust

Despite the cowboy lawman’s determination to find the stolen diamonds, she is going to continue to search for her kidnapped brother. He wishes the heart-headed beauty will stop distracting him for his goal.

Pinkerton agent, Dusty Sloan, isn't just another cowboy who enjoys charming the ladies. He is dedicated to his job, especially when stolen diamonds and a stubborn woman are involved. Can he protect her and find the mystery of the stolen gems, or will his heart get involved?

Miss Callie Beckman needs to find her missing brother. Bad men have kidnapped him, and they have threatened her not to involve the law. Yet, how can she shake off the Pinkerton agent who is determined to be her knight in shining armor? If only Dusty's eyes weren't so dreamy and his kisses so passionate, maybe she would be able to focus better on finding her brother.

The secret they keep from one another could be the very thing that destroys what they both hold dear.

Sleep was impossible! Dustin Sloan could usually doze off a few times while riding the stagecoach, but not today. The weather’s humidity threatened to bake his clothes on his skin and his cowboy hat to his head. Yet the temperature wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t take a nap. The nonstop jabbering southern belle across from him made him want to stuff cotton in his ears – or her mouth.

Shifting on the uncomfortable bench, Dusty lowered his hat further on his forehead, trying to block out the view of the irritating magpie who wouldn’t shut up. It would be easier to ignore her if the young woman was cross-eyed or had large, hairy warts on her face. Instead, he found the brunette with bluish-gray eyes quite lovely.

She sat next to an older woman, who he assumed was her companion, but the two women took delight in conversing with the man sitting next to Dusty. Of course, they all had to talk in loud voices because of the noise from the fast-traveling carriage.

Dusty inhaled slowly and released it even slower. He needed to get some shut-eye and close his mind for about thirty minutes. Being a lawman kept him busy tracking outlaws, but it was what Dusty loved doing. However, he still needed sleep. Yet he wasn’t the kind of man who could tell a woman to shut her trap, even though he was thinking it right now.

When the conversation in the stagecoach died down, Dusty prayed the other travelers would allow him some peace. After a few minutes passed with no words spoken, he sighed with relief and let his tired body relax.

“I swear, Mrs. Taylor,” the southern belle exclaimed, “I’ll never understand why more railroad tracks aren’t bein’ laid to accommodate gentle folks like us. Ridin’ in a stagecoach is most bothersome.”

“Indeed, Miss Beckman. I’m about ready to melt from the heat,” the older woman said.

“I must admit,” the man beside Dusty chimed in, “that today’s journey has been a strain. Usually, it isn’t this bad.”
Inwardly, Dusty groaned. It appeared that the other passengers didn’t know what the word quiet meant. Why couldn’t these people realize he wanted to nap? After all, why else would he place his hat over his eyes and lean against the stagecoach’s wall? Perhaps they didn’t care.

“Do you travel often, Mr. Greenly?” the southern belle asked.

“Actually, I do, Miss.”

“For business or pleasure, may I ask?”

Dusty’s tolerance level had hit its mark. Why couldn’t the woman be quiet for thirty whole minutes? Actually, even ten minutes would suffice.

Grumbling loudly, Dusty straightened and pushed back the hat from his face, glaring at the southern belle. She gasped, and her hand flew to her throat. When her gaze met Dusty’s, her eyes widened.

“Heavens, sir. You startled me.”

“I did?” Dusty asked, trying to keep his temper in check. “That seems highly unlikely since you have been jabbering nonstop since we left Missoula.”

She gasped again, louder this time. Her cheeks bloomed with color, but it was the glint of anger in her eyes that made Dusty want to push to see what kind of woman she really was. Would she be mild-mannered or show everyone here her tirade?

“Why, I never—”

“Yes, Miss Beckman,” Dusty cut her off, “I’m sure you have never met someone like me, and I feel sorry for that. So let me tell you why I’m so irritable right now.”

Her gaze flashed like the sun against steel. “You, sir, are very ill-mannered.”

He shook his head. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Miss Beckman.”

As he paused briefly to collect his thoughts, a gunshot exploded through the air, and seconds later, he noticed the stagecoach driver fall to the ground. The women shrieked in terror. Immediately, Dusty reached for his holster and withdrew his six-shooter.

“Everyone, get down!” Dusty shifted on the bench again, this time so that he could look out the window to see who was chasing after them. Five men on horseback rode toward them – all men with rifles as they shot toward the carriage.

Grumbling, Dusty pulled out a few more bullets, getting them ready for when he needed to reload. If he didn’t act quickly, they’d all be laying on the ground like yesterday’s roadkill.