Clint Clay

The Westward Movement Clint Clay

"This compelling story is one the readers will love. Establishing a cattle ranch after a war that separated brothers was hard enough, but the lack of law and order out west made those times far worse. Those moving west often had to take the law in their own hands until law could be established. See a glimpse of how it was done and try to tell yourself you wouldn't have done the same. Given the right circumstances most would or would they?" Clint ClayGreer was a six-foot-tall, lean, muscular man with a clean-shaven face, and dark wavy hair. He rode slowly down the little used trail into the lush green valley that lay just below. He wore his long black duster over buckaroo chaps and his brow was shaded by his black beaver hat. This wasn't the main road, but he remembered it from when he had been here three years ago and knew it as a short cut. He was enjoying the smell of the blossoming trees, flowers and the distinct aroma of the sweet grass that he now rode through. They didn't have this type of greenery in Texas where he now lived although it was beautiful there too. He was making a return trip today to a place he had left a few years ago. Lester had worked as a wrangler for the little ranch in this valley and he was heading back. The smells brought back memories of the spring he had work there and the woman he had fallen in love with. Lester smiled now as he thought back to those times.