"If you have seen and remember the big screen westerns of the late 1950's and 1960's, you will be all set to enjoy Liar's Trail. This is a book that will take you back to the funny, fuzzy days of early television, too, when the western reigned supreme...A fun read with loads of action and forward movement. Talented author C. K. Crigger gives the reader every satisfaction in a great story and realistic characters. Highly recommended to satisfy the craving for a book that is more than just a romance."--Anne K. Edwards

"How bad you hurt?" she heard Thomas ask.

Hurt? Her gaze flew to Sawyer, seeing now what she'd missed before. Blood stained the sleeve of his blue calico shirt and dripped slowly from the fingers of his right hand. She gasped, and stepped up to the roan.

"Sawyer!" His name gushed out on a breath as she placed her hand on his knee.

His silver eyes lit, as if a fire had suddenly kindled. "Worried, darlin'?"

"Yes! That is…no…I mean…" She didn't make sense. "Of course I'm worried. I worry about everyone who works for me."

The side of his mouth crooked. He made a doubting kind of tetch-tetch sound with his tongue and said, "Is that right? Now you're breakin' my heart, Gincy Tate. You had me thinkin' I was special for a minute. Here. Take your dog. I don't think he cared much for all the lead flyin' around. I expect he'd rather walk a spell."

He handed Burlap down, careful not to jostle the dog, but wincing some from his own hurt. Dismounting, he plucked at his shirt in disgust. His face wore a doleful expression. "Well, hell," he said, fingering a double-sided hole. "Will you look at this? That peckerwood ruined my new shirt."

"I'll make you another," Gincy promised, reckless in her need to effect amends.