Flint Moran was fourteen years old when the Civil War ended. He was fifteen when his family bought a plot of land near Tinhorn, Texas. He was barely nineteen when he caught a pair of rustlers stealing cattle—and singlehandedly brought them to justice. How did a teenaged boy track down and capture two hardcase thieves without any help? That's what Tinhorn sheriff Buck Jackson wants to know. He can't help but be impressed by Flint's sharp eye and natural talent with a Henry rifle. So he offers to deputize the boy—tin badge, Colt Frontier Six-Shooter, and all—and Flint happily accepts.

As Carl sat astride his roan gelding and stared at Pine Bluffs, he knew that his days of punching cattle were over. The long drives across the West were dying now that the railroads had crisscrossed the Plains. Ironically, his last formal education had given him the skills and knowledge to help build those railroads, and now he’d finally put them to use. His short-term plan of spending a quiet night or two in Pine Bluffs would soon be altered by a simmering man-made volcano in the mountains of central Wyoming at a mine that provided the coal for the railroad’s locomotives.

Mack Smith had left his shop in Pueblo and was just an hour or so from reaching his brother’s ranch for his annual visit when he felt the bullet slam into his head, and when his eyes finally opened, he found himself flat on his back on the bottom of a ravine. What the hell had happened? He was only a gunsmith, not a gunfighter.

Joey couldn’t imagine a better 13th birthday. He’d been given his first pistol and now was going to join his six older brothers on tomorrow’s job. They were going to trust him with covering their escape after robbing the bank and he was determined to do it right. He was immensely proud to be a Hogan, and his tough brothers were his heroes.

Sixteen-year-old Henry was ejected from the enormous St. Martin ranch and told never to return, or he would be shot on sight. He vowed to return and seek revenge against the entire family. When he finally returned, it wouldn’t be as Henry St. Martin, it would not be as a 16-year-old boy seeking justice for his mother, but as a hardened lawman with the name of Alex Paine.

No one had seen the innocuous rock on the long climb to the pass on the Oregon Trail, and when the last covered wagon in the long line rolled onto the lump of granite, it shouldn’t have made much of a difference, but it caused almost instant tragedy. Just seconds later, the wagon plunged over the edge of the narrow trail, then began its deadly, tumbling roll into the abyss, spewing its contents as it fell to its destruction. Her precious children had been trapped inside, and Rebecca could only watch in horror. Her children had been her life, and now she had nothing.

Will noticed that the numbers didn't add up when he was 11, but he didn't discover the truth of that mathematical problem until he was 17. For most of his young life, Will had known Pearl as his older sister, but only after the man who had acted as his father died did he learn that she was really his mother.

Pinkerton Agent Ben Gray was being sent to Denver for another all-to-common request for confirmation of marital infidelity. He didn’t mind because he’d be able to go and visit his brother, who unknown to him, had just found a rich deposit of gold in his mine near Leadville.

Luke Scott just needed to track down some rustlers.The biggest question he had as he rode form his ranch was what kind of idiot rustles cattle in Colorado in December? Three hours later, as he tried to find his way to safety in a howling blizzard, just staying alive was much more important. It was what he found when seeking emergency shelter that would alter his life forever.

In the early 1870's, the young state of Texas was struggling to survive. Its vast, undeveloped land of over 260 thousand square miles became a haven for the lawless. Murderers, rustlers and renegade bands of hostile Indians and Comanchero roamed the vast wastelands of west Texas with only a narrow river separating them from the sanctuary of Mexico. One group of dedicated lawmen stood between this element and the law-abiding citizenry - the Texas Rangers. This is the story of one of those men.

Doc Holt listened to the boys at the other end of the bunkhouse as they joked about the night’s excitement, and he felt sick. What they were doing bothered him. Why they were doing it bothered him. But most of all, why he wasn’t doing anything to stop it bothered him.

Sheriff Joe Brooks was talking to a young prisoner who gave him some incredibly bad news. Three notorious gangs of outlaws had merged into one large band big enough to take over entire towns in his sparsely populated county. It was when they began to terrorize his county that he had to act, and he’d have to take them on alone.

Susanna stared at her father’s body on the floor, his life’s blood still pooling near his head. She’d murdered her own father, and even as she stepped slowly away from the horror, knew that there was more terror in her future. Soon, a man with a badge would come through that door, arrest her, and then they’d slide a black hood over her head, and she’d plunge into cold darkness before her receiving her final, eternal sentence.

After the final battle of the Civil War, Confederate Sergeant Travis Kane rode his Yankee horse away from Palmito Ranch to return to his ranch in Uvalde County. As he began the two-hundred-and-fifty-mile ride across West Texas, Travis was grateful for surviving the long, bloody war without being wounded. But now that the fighting was over, his biggest concern was for his young wife because he hadn’t received a letter from Lillian in almost two years.

Yavapai County in Arizona Territory was bigger than Pennsylvania, and Sheriff Sam Hicks and his three deputies were the only law that most of its residents knew. When China Joe’s gang knocked off the huge cash shipment heading for Prescott, Sheriff Hicks left his office unsure if this would be his last job one way or the other. He knew he had to retire soon, he didn’t expect to be alive in six months, whether it was from a .44 or his failing heart.