In Love By Sundown

LOVEDUST AND TRAILBLAZERS

In Love By Sundown

Davee Jones

Erotic Romance

Cover Art – JM Walker

Copyright © 2018 Davee Jones

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

Lovedust and Trailblazers

Copyright © 2012 Davee Jones

E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-431-5

First E-book Publication: November 2012

Cover design by Dawne Dominique

Edited by Kyle Lewis

Proofread by Marja Salmon

All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedicationn

To anyone who still believes in old fashioned romance, and that love can save the day.I dedicate this book to my amazing momma, retired Major Ruth Fereday- who loves more ardently than she will ever admit out loud.

I love you too, Momma.

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Marla isn't looking for love or anything else from a man. Can Marla put aside her distrust of men for a younger man? Can Chris convince her he's not like other guys?

*Hunting Jaguar, paranormal erotic romance:

Rachel Hayes' father set out to prove the existence of the Miloni temple and the Jaguar people. Tumi is a descendant of the Miloni race and is sworn to protect their secret with his life. Will he be forced to uphold his vow at the cost of his heart and Rachel's life?

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LOVEDUST AND TRAILBLAZERSIn Love By Sundown

Davee Jones

Copyright © 20128

Prologue

Josiah Samuels had been on his feet for days. With little water and even less food, it became a struggle to take each step. It did not help matters that he had to duck quickly for cover by the occasional stray bullet from lurking enemies. Each time he had to move rapidly, it depleted his energy a bit faster. Just as if he gunned his car engine at a stoplight, his gas was running out swiftly.

He had few friends with him and they had decided it was safer to travel in erratic patterns singly, rather than like ducks in a row. They had lost company with their unit a few days prior and the search to regroup was beginning to feel futile. He was actually happy for the solitude, because at least then maybe he would not be witness to another buddy being blown to bits. The last time it happened, he was close enough to his dying comrade to receive human debris onto his own uniform.

He stopped crying a long time ago, because in the weakness of a moment of grief, he became susceptible to the same fate. All energy focused on anything other than survival was dangerous. He knew his lost counterparts would understand and encourage him to trudge along. Maybe then he would finally make it home to his refuge—The Cattle Company—his affectionate name for the family ranch.

The Cattle Company, ahhhh, he had not thought of his beloved home in weeks it seemed. His Pop and brother were taking care of the farm while he was serving in the Korean Conflict. If anyone were looking at that Marine today, they would think he was too young and skinny to have such responsibilities as part owner in a large cattle operation. But, he did. At that very moment, hungry and alone, he wished more than anything else he was listening to his brother and the hands sitting around a fire recapping the day. The sound of squabbling would be music compared to the explosions that never seemed far enough in the distance.

As he madeMaking his way along the ridge, the sun gave him a feeling of comfort, but he kept his eyes peeled for unknown dangers. He tried to stay away from obvious points of violence, indicated by the stench and sight of decaying bodies lying sprawled across various landscapes. He was looking for any number of things at this moment— food, water, a fellow soldier, the North Korean enemy, or anything else that might forever change his fate for the day.

It was difficult to discern foe or friend. From a distance, it was hard to distinguish when to shoot or stand down. He had to count on his instinct and gut intuition and hope both aligned for him at the appropriate times. This afternoon he really needed an ally. He was famished and in sore need of some time off his feet.

He came upon a small home which appeared to be occupied. He stood in friendly territory and felt little fear as he approached the dwelling. However, he was being watched carefully as the door opened and out came the head of the household. Now, the young Marine spoke no Korean and his host knew no English so, obviously, communication was going to be based on body language alone. The host smiled at him and the Marine knew he had found a safe place of refuge for the next brief period.

The host led him into his home and the strong smell of few baths and nervous sweat permeated the air. The Marine didn’t care—he just wanted a place to rest his war weary body for awhile. Something was boiling on a small stove and the host pointed at the pot and back to the Marine. He understood that there would be a hot meal in his future and he almost wept. It did not matter what was stewing, he vowed to take every bite with joy and relief. He knew the entire region lacked food and clean drinking water. A hot meal was a rare gift.

As While the Marine rested, he forgot for about an hour the sights and horrors he had witnessed. As the young couple scurried around their small quarters, he wondered if he would ever have a beautiful bride, or would the war take him before he had a chance. He knew the young South Korean couple would be forever changed, haunted by the sights and sounds of warfare. However, he had yet to know just how dramatically his own life would be permanently affected. He chose to believe that once he was back on US soil, he could return to his life of normalcy and forget this place. He dreamed of returning home to peace, security, and warm meals with his loved ones at the Cattle Company.

What the Marine did not know was that he would have a constant macabre souvenir from Korea in the form of shrapnel wounds across his chest. He would be sent home from the conflict and honored with a Purple Heart. He would live with honor at all the sacrifices he made for his country and display his medals and badges proudly.

He would also struggle with the memories of gunshots and terror, of all those who did not make it back to the states and who decayed away on some barren field. He also did not know for the first few years after he returned home from Korea, he would slowly withdraw into the shell of a man as the sorrow overwhelmed him.

However, this day—as he prepared himself to join this couple in their meal—he was thankful for a respite from the violence and forgot about all the possible sorrows of the future. He was thankful as he took a bite of the steaming stew and it tasted better than anything he had ever eaten before. He pointed to the bowl and said, Moo, moo?

The host shook his head and furrowed in brow in failed understanding. Again, the Marine repeated moo, moo as he pointed vigorously toward his bowl.

Finally, the host’s eyes lit up in perception and in enthusiastic response, he replied, woof, woof!

It did not even matter.

Chapter One

Josiah gathered materials together for a day of mending fence. The cows had been finding the weak spots in an effort to rejoin their recently weaned offspring. Darn cows, dumb as rocks, but can find every hole in a fence to escape, he muttered looking towards the pasture.

Now in his late twenties, Josiah looked every bit the part of cattle wrangler. His dusty, worn felt hat jammed down against his military haircut almost hid his deep eyes. Although he had not worn Marine fatigues or a uniform in a few years, he kept the same sharp buzz cut. Josiah preferred spending more hours outside in a day than inside, so sunspots dotted his muscular forearms and almost blended in with his year round farmer’s tan.

Josiah’s brother, Ezekiel—Zeke for short—assisted him at the barn loading up the bois d’arc wood posts, barbed wire, fence stretchers, post hole diggers, and various hand tools. With the pickup bed as full as possible, they headed to the house to pick up water jugs and some beef jerky to snack on. It’s gonna be a hot one today, Zeke. I hope this doesn’t take all day.

I reckon we will hit ninety degrees by noon. Zeke pondered as he expertly fished a pinch of Copenhagen snuff out of the can and wedged it between his cheek and bottom gums.

You are never gonna get a girl to kiss you while you keep chewin’ that mess. Josiah shook his head at his younger brother’s nasty habit.

What makes you think I want to be kissin’ any girls? They ain’t nothin’ but trouble, and for right now, I’m content with my Copenhagen in my back pocket and all girls at arm’s length.

You might have a point about the ‘trouble’ part, Zeke. Josiah uttered under his breath.

C’mon, let’s get this day started and quit talking about it. Josiah opened the driver’s side door and hopped in. Make sure you bring a spit-can, I don’t want tobacco juice all down the side of my truck! He yelled before Zeke loaded into the passenger side.

Settled into the truck, they began down the long driveway. The summer left the pasture slightly wilted and the weeds strained for water and relief from the heat. The odor of bitter sneezeweed, identified by deceptively pretty yellow flowers, filled the air. Can you taste that? Josiah asked as the familiar odor penetrated his throat, making him taste the pungent fumes wafting from the innocent looking plants.

Yes, sir, even with this snuff in my mouth. We need to spray this field again and try to get rid of as much as we can before it takes over the place. Cows don’t generally eat it, but if they do, it sure does make them sick. I heard at the feed store about this new kind of poison that takes care of most pasture weed problems. Zeke looked out his window towards the expansive field.

I heard a little about it too, Zeke, but something makes me uneasy about it. You know, we drink the water coming up from the ground. How much of this stuff seeps down through the soil into our well?

Zeke thought for a moment before he replied. Josiah always seemed to think ahead. Anytime something new came along, he studied it extensively before he experimented with it. Shoot, brother, you are still using those bois d’arc posts for the fence instead of those new steel ones. It isn’t often you change your method of doing things. Zeke smiled toward his older brother, indicating both respect and amusement for his traditional ways of thinking.

Josiah opened his mouth in rebuttal when, about halfway down, they noticed another truck approaching them, coming up their drive. Who the heck is coming to see us? Zeke asked Josiah, frustration evident in his voice.

I have no idea, but it looks like a woman driving that truck. Josiah strained to get a better view of the driver.

Josiah pulled over to the right side of the narrow dirt road and continued driving to meet the other truck. Indeed a woman, driving very fast, barreled toward them. The closer she became, the more frantic her expression appeared. Finally, they both stopped, driver’s windows aligned. I need some help, please! I have a stuck cow in your pond. As soon as the words tumbled forth, her breathing quickened again erratically.

"Ma’am, how is it one of your cows is in my pond?" Josiah’s analytical