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Molly Albright doesn't cook for cowboys—she commands them. At twenty-eight, she runs her chuckwagon like a sovereign nation on wheels: sourdough starter older than Texas statehood, a Henry rifle under the seat, and a tongue sharp enough to strip hide. When she signs on with the Circle C outfit pushing three thousand longhorns up the brutal Goodnight-Loving Trail, she expects fifty dollars a month, full control of her provisions, and absolutely no interference. What she gets is Jack King—a trail boss with crow's feet carved by prairie sun, a scar tracing his jaw, and the quiet, terrifying authority of a man who's buried too many mistakes in the dust.
Between the Brazos and Horsehead Crossing lies five hundred miles of gypsum water, Comanche watchfires, and the Staked Plains' empty cruelty. The herd is green, the wrangler is seventeen and nervous, and the mules have opinions about everything. But every dawn Molly beats the iron triangle and serves biscuits that taste like home to men who haven't seen one in years, and every dusk Jack King rides the drags watching shadows lengthen across grass that swallows sound. Their arrangement is simple: she leads the wagon two miles ahead, he brings up the rear, and neither asks for quarter. Until a midnight stampede, a rising river, and a wounded man force them to admit that the only thing more dangerous than the trail ahead is the truth they've been keeping in their saddlebags.
Gritty, atmospheric, and charged with the slow burn of two iron wills colliding, *The Chuckwagon Queen of the Goodnight Trail* serves up a love story baked in cast iron and tested by fire—where respect is earned one biscuit at a time, and the strongest bond on the prairie isn't rope or rawhide, but the promise to ride back for each other when the dust settles.
Fiction
October 23, 2026
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