The Harlan Kid (Bailey Clan Westerns Book 13)

A Thousand Miles for Justice—and for Love

After avenging his parents’ murder in the Kentucky hills, Harlan Bailey is branded an outlaw by a corrupt marshal. Outnumbered and hunted, he rides west in search of a new beginning. But trouble rides fast in the West—and Harlan finds himself face to face with the notorious outlaw Malachi in the plains of Kansas.

It’s in the lawless town of Hays that Harlan earns his name—the Harlan Kid—by taking back stolen money and risking everything for a man he barely knows. It’s also where he meets Ella Bentley, and where love begins to rival justice in Harlan’s heart. When he returns across a thousand miles of trail to win her hand, word of his ride spreads like wildfire.

But Malachi isn’t done. He wants revenge—and he’s bringing hired guns to Hays. What he doesn’t know is that Harlan’s not riding alone. The Bailey Clan stands with their own.

The Harlan Kid is Book 13 in The Bailey Clan Westerns by Terence Newnes—a classic tale of blood feuds, long trails, and the kind of loyalty only family can bring.

Get your copy of The Harlan Kid and ride with the Baileys today.

Excerpt from the book

It was coming on to dusk as Harlan rode across the Kansas prairie. He had been drifting for more than a month now, and he figured that maybe it was time to stop. He was five miles out of Wichita, Kansas, and he was now regretting not staying the night there. All he had seen were cattle tracks all over the prairie, which he figured came from the cattle drives that the barkeep in Wichita had been talking about. He topped out on a crest and saw the prairie extending endlessly to the horizon. To the right, about a mile away, he saw the tops of trees and what looked to be a canyon. He started his horse down the slope and headed for the canyon. He figured it would be better to camp for the night in the canyon than on the open prairie. He dipped down into the canyon and walked his horse as he looked around for a place to camp. Suddenly he stopped and stared up the slope of the canyon to his left. There were trees growing all along the slope in staggered lines, but he noticed a few broken branches from three trees. The trees were growing in a line pointing upward from the middle of the slope. What had caught his attention was that the breaks were fresh – very fresh from the looks of it.

He looked up to the ridge, which was at least a hundred feet from the floor of the canyon, and he was curious as to what could have fallen from there. He stared for a moment, then turned his horse to the slope. There was nothing up there except the bare prairie, so it couldn’t have been a boulder. He urged his horse up the slope, which wasn’t very steep at this point. He headed up in a direct line with the three trees with the broken branches. He scanned the surrounding area as he moved up, searching for whatever had fallen from the top. He was twenty feet below the trees, and the land leveled out a bit to form a small shelf. Lying at the far end of the shelf, near the slope that reared up again, was a big man.

Harlan walked his horse over and, at the sound of the horse’s hooves, the man rolled over and reached for his gun. His hand was gripping the butt of his six-gun when he stopped and stared at the gun in Harlan’s hand. Harlan noted that the man was massively built – even lying down he seemed massive. Harlan was two inches over six feet, but he reckoned this man was much taller. He had broad shoulders and a massive chest with large biceps. There were slivers of gray in his hair, and Harlan figured him to be in his early forties. Harlan said conversationally, “You look to be in trouble enough, old man, without asking for more. Take your hand off that gun and let me look at you.” The man slowly removed his hand from the gun butt, and Harlan immediately holstered his gun. He swung down from his saddle and, leaving his horse ground hitched, walked up to the man and squatted down near him.