Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

PROLOGUE

Three dead sons.

Just the thought caused Dan Shaye more pain than he felt he could endure—if it turned out to be true.

He’d already lost one son, and his wife, and it had only been a year. He’d barely survived the deaths of Matthew and Mary. If he lost Thomas and James as well, there’d be nothing left for him to live for.

He’d crossed into Colorado several days ago. The trail he was following was barely there. Luckily, he was as good a reader of sign as he had ever met. As long as there was a ghost of a trail, he’d be able to follow it. As long as there was a ghost of a trail, there was a chance he’d find his sons, alive and well.

He filled his canteen from the waterhole he’d camped next to and walked back to his horse. He’d already stomped out his campfire and stored his supplies back in his saddlebags. Traveling light, all he’d had for dinner and for breakfast had been coffee and beef jerky. He didn’t figure he deserved much more than that.

He never should have let them go. They weren’t experienced enough. He mounted up and sat there for a moment, head bowed. He was almost glad their mother was dead, just so he wouldn’t have to tell her how he had gotten their sons killed—all three sons.