Publisher Description

The Strange siblings are on the hunt for justice in this wild double installment of bestselling Western author Ralph Compton's Rough Justice series.RIDERS OF JUDGMENT- In her guise as "Danny Duggin," Danielle Strange has spent the past two years hunting down the outlaws who murdered her father. Reunited with her brothers, the twins Tim and Jed, she plans to take her war across the border into Mexico-unaware she's being pursued by a U.S. federal marshal....Saul Delmano comes from a powerful family of cattlemen whose business stretches from the Southwestern territories into Mexico. He's put a $2,000 reward on Danny Duggin's head, tempting every outlaw and bounty hunter across the West to try to collect it. But the cry of vengeance has been shouted out-and only justice can silence it.DEATH ALONG THE CIMARRON- Disguised as "Danny Duggin," Danielle Strange hunted down the merciless cutthroats who murdered her father. Now the feared gunslick has hung up her trademark twin Colts-and given up her secret identity-to make something out of her Texas ranch.But then a passel of hard cases rides into town and all hell breaks loose. And when the vicious gunmen kill one of Danielle's old saddle pals, she knows it's time for Danny Duggin to ride the vengeance trail again....

Author Biography

Ralph Compton stood six foot eight without his boots. He worked as a musician, a radio announcer, a songwriter, and a newspaper columnist. His first novel, The Goodnight Trail, was a finalist for the Western Writers of America Medicine Pipe Bearer Award for best debut novel. He was the USA Today bestselling author of the Trail of the Gunfighter series, the Border Empire series, the Sundown Riders series, and the Trail Drive series, among others.

Excerpt from Book

Chapter 1 September 8, 1871 Danielle recounted the events of the past months in her mind, most of the memories bringing a bitter taste to her mouth. Before Daniel Strange''s death at the hands of his killers, he had been known as the best gunsmith in or around St. Joseph, Missouri. He and his wife, Margaret, had raised all three of their children to be decent, God-fearing, law-abiding, and equally as important, to be respectful of others regardless of that person''s station in life. Along with these indisputable values, the Stranges had taught their children to be independent to a fault, for life along the Western frontier was not a kind place for the meek, the helpless, or the reluctant of spirit. While the Strange children were honest and soft-spoken, they had a presence beyond their years and knew how to handle themselves in most any situation. Along with all the other things a frontier child must learn, Daniel Strange had taught his daughter and sons at an early age the skill, safety, and responsibility of handling and carrying a firearm. By the time his children were able to read and write, they could handle a Colt as well as any grown man and, of the three, while Daniel didn''t make it a habit of saying so to Tim and Jed, young Danielle was by far the best. And the fastest. At thirteen, Danielle Strange could strike sulfur matches at a distance of thirty feet with the customized Colt her father had designed to fit her hand. Tim and Jed Strange had taken up their father''s trade of gunsmithing and had mastered it at an early age-so had Danielle. When it came to repairing or even designing and building a firearm, the Strange children were equal in every regard. Yet, when it came to pulling the trigger, while the Strange twins were both excellent marksmen in their own right, it was daughter Danielle who had what her father always referred to as the gift. Whether she was firing from the hip or from horseback, Danielle Strange''s talent was undeniably the best in the family. Had it not been for the tragic death of Daniel Strange nearly two years earlier, Danielle might well have spent the rest of her life in St. Joseph, Missouri. She might have married and raised a family, or have taken courses at the women''s college in St. Louis and spent her life teaching school. But these things were not to be, not for now anyway. Fate had dealt her a different hand, and all she could do was play the few cards left to her. She thought of this now in the dark hours of night as she sat cleaning and checking her brace of Colt pistols. Her father, Daniel Strange, had left home on Sundown, the big chestnut mare, and had gone off on a cattle-buying trip, his trail snaking across Indian Territory. Days later, the chestnut mare had returned by herself, lathered and weary from the road. The following day, a note from U.S. Federal Marshal Buck Jordan had arrived along with Daniel Strange''s wallet at the sheriff''s office in St. Joseph. From that day to this, Danielle Strange had ridden the vengeance trail, seeking out her father''s killers one at a time. What had begun as a list of ten names-the names she''d extracted from one of the killers before he died-was now down to one. Saul Delmano. Danielle whispered the name to herself in the darkened room. The only light was the halo of the lantern by which she''d cleaned and checked her Colts. She looked around at Tim and Jed, the two of them having fallen asleep in her room, Tim leaning back in a wooden chair against the wall, Jed curled down on the floor, wrapped in a blanket he''d taken from the closet. Danielle smiled to herself, feeling closer to her brothers than she ever had. It had been Tim and Jed who had come and found her in Indian Territory, where she''d taken up with some of her father''s killers in order to draw all of them into a trap. Tim and Jed had broken the news to her about their mother''s death, and she had suffered her loss alone, with no time for proper grief. "Sorry, Mom," Danielle whispered now in the darkness, thinking about it. Feeling herself give in to deep sadness, Danielle shook the melancholy off before it got the better of her. She stood up from the side of the bed and dressed herself quietly, winding the cloth binder methodically around her torso as she had done so many mornings before on this trail of blood. Then she clenched her teeth against the pain in her side, pitched the pistol belt around her waist, buckled it, and tied the rawhide strip around her leg, securing the oiled holster in place. Finishing, she walked over to her sleeping brothers, looked at each of them in turn, and said, "Rise and shine. We''ve got a long day ahead." In a moment the twins were up on their feet, picking up their hats and adjusting them down on their foreheads. Having slept no more than a hour or two, and in their clothes and gun belts at that, Tim and Jed rubbed their hands on their faces, forcing themselves awake, and soon the three of them left the room and descended the wooden stairs. On the front porch of the doctor''s office, Danielle took an envelope from inside her shirt and slipped it under the door. She looked back at Tim and Jed, who stood watching her questioningly. "I wouldn''t think of leaving without paying the doctor his due," she said. They turned and walked abreast to the livery barn at the far end of the street. Before dawn, Danielle, Tim, and Jed Strange were in the saddle and riding single file along the dirt street out of town. There was no more to say about whether or not Danielle was fit to ride. They had talked it out last night until both Tim and Jed saw there was no use in arguing any further on the subject. Danielle had made up her mind to go, and nothing was going to change it. As the three of them rode past a darkened alley, they did not see the five men standing back in the far shadows, watching them ride by. One of the men, a gunman named Loot Harkens, started to raise his pistol from his holster, but beside him a deep, gruff voice whispered, "Don''t be a fool, Loot. Want to end up like Clyde Branson? Let them go for now. Once they get out there in the wilds, there won''t be nothing to keep us from killing them." "Yeah, Loot," the voice of Hank Phipps whispered, "Tarksel''s right. They''re not going to get very far. I''ve got news for Mr. Danny Duggin, and his two look-alike brothers. . . . There ain''t none of the three going to live to see their next birthday." "I like your attitude, Phipps," said Al Tarksel. "See if you can get Loot here to settle down before I have to backhand him into the next county." Al Tarksel was a big man, weighing over two hundred fifty pounds, all of it hard muscle and bone. He spread a flat smile at the other men in the darkness. "Boys, I know that since Axel Eldridge got himself killed last month, there ain''t been nobody to really take charge of this gang." He let his eyes cut from one to the other as he spoke. "But just to keep things well organized, I''ve decided that from here on, I''m taking over." His smile faded as he added, "Any objections?" The four men looked at one another, then turned back to Al Tarksel as he said in his deep voice, "If there is, let''s get it settled here and now." He called each of them by name, looking them square in the face. "Loot, any problem with me taking over?" Loot Harkens shook his head, saying, "No. Far as I''m concerned, you''re the boss." "Hank?" Tarksel asked. "Fine by me," Hank Phipps replied, sounding a bit nervous. "Hector?" Al Tarksel stared coldly at Hector Sabio. After a pause, Hector shrugged, looking sullen. "S

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