Texas Divided

Lone Star Redemption Book 2

Driven by the looming expectation of becoming a suffocatingly proper lady, Morning Fawn is determined to escape the confines of her uncle’s plantation and return to her adoptive Comanche tribe. But with each failed attempt, her hopes dwindle, and she wonders if she'll ever find her way back home or if that world is forever lost to her.

Devon Reynolds, disillusioned by the price of affluence and the horrors of war, leaves his privileged life to join the Texas Rangers and later the cavalry. In the military service, he finds purpose . . . until he loses his wife during childbirth while he is away. In an attempt to redeem himself, he takes one last fateful mission to rescue Morning Fawn from the Comanche. But the results force him to question the righteousness of his actions and the cause he serves.

When Devon returns to Texas as a Yankee spy, his path crosses with Morning Fawn once more. Determined to save her from the prison of her uncle's house and to recover Texas from the Confederacy, Devon is drawn to her fierce spirit and unwavering resolve. But can two wounded souls, each fighting their own battles, find solace and love amidst the chaos of war?
 

“Sherry Shindelar showcases memorabe characters, heart-wrenching history, and a love the weathers the worst to begin a new.”
~ Laura Frantz, Christy Award-Winnng Author

 

Avaliable March 2025 – Pre-Order Now
 

 

Book Excerpt

“Devon wedged a finger beneath his yellow-trimmed collar. A thin silver chain and locket which had once adorned his wife’s neck now lay cool against his skin. A heavy sigh rattled through him. He had failed her. He’d asked God for forgiveness. Forgiving himself was a different matter.

A far-off yell. Overhead, a handful of crows took flight.

A shiver ran down his backbone. Anyone within shouting distance was too close. Knife drawn, he whacked off a nearby juniper branch and swished it across the freshly covered spot beneath the elm.

Another shout, almost discernable.

He hurried to his horse. The last thing he wanted was to be seen near this location. Foot in the stirrup, he nudged his light bay mare forward before he’d settled in the saddle. Up the incline from the creek, he headed for the road, dropping the branch by a cluster of trees.

Hard, quick clomps, and a horse and rider galloped around the bend, a girl with honey-colored hair flowing in the wind.

“Stop her.” A fellow in a red shirt goaded his mount at full throttle, beating his way toward the girl’s dust. “Thief.”

Another rider followed close behind him.

A thief? Devon swung his mount toward her as the girl charged past on a Thoroughbred. She couldn’t have picked a finer horse to steal. With a snap of the reins and the pressure of his calves, he drove his horse to its limit to match her speed, squinting against the stirred-up sand whirling in the air.

Green plaid dress and no side saddle, she rode as if she were being chased by a herd of buffalo. The butt of a carbine bobbed along in a sling. What kind of girl was this?

“Wait.” He charged up alongside her.

Both horses snorted with the effort. Hooves tore through the withered grass.

His heart pounded.

The rider whipped the loose end of her reins against his hand like a matchstick striking kindling. “Get away from me!”

He would not be beaten and outrun by a girl, especially not a thieving one. Pressing the balls of his feet against the stirrups, he raised himself in the saddle and drove his horse onward.

Hair flying, she veered her animal toward the road. Devon kept pace.

Her stirrup dangled within inches of his. Wham. She rammed her foot into his.

Blasted left eye. He should have approached on the other side. Enough. He wrapped the end of the reins around his hand.

Her foot came again. His horse flinched.

Now was the moment. He leaned half out of the saddle, grabbed her, his left arm around her back, and pulled with all of his might.

Her upper body shifted to his lap.

She dug her nails into his thighs. Trying to hold her was worse than wrestling a wildcat. Did she want to get them both killed?

He pressed his weight against her and gave one final yank. Her foot slipped free of her stirrup.

Goggle-eyed, the Thoroughbred slacked its pace and veered away.

“Whoa.” Devon pulled back on his reins.

An elbow jammed into his gut as his mare slowed. “Unhh.”

His grip loosened, and the woman jumped.

He yanked his horse to a full stop and hopped off.

Scratched and dirty and dress torn, she rolled to her feet and jerked her head toward the sound of hooves.

She looked familiar. No. It couldn’t be—

“Keep her there,” the man in the red shirt yelled as he charged toward them.

She spun toward Devon with eyes blazing. Morning Fawn. With honey-blond hair, not dark brown.

His mouth dropped.

Recognition dawned across her face. “You’re one of them.” Her face contorted. “You. Ruined. Everything.” She screeched, hitched her skirts, and ran at him.

The impact almost knocked him off his feet. Her fists struck him in the chest, the shoulders. Devon gripped her wrists. Their gazes locked. Specks of gold in a sea of brown-green glared at him, as fiery as a branding iron. A spark sizzled through him and buried deep, awaiting ignition…”