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- Herausgeber: Warren Fjord
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Nash Fall is a gripping story of a man running from his past and straight into his destiny. On a rugged ranch, where silence speaks louder than words, Nash must face loss, loyalty, and the meaning of home. It is a powerful tale of redemption, second chances, and finding where you truly belong.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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NASH FALL
One Man, One Ranch, One Last Chance to Belong.
––––––––
Warren Fjord
Copyright © 2025 Warren’s Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
THE FENCE POST
CHAPTER TWO
THE COFFEE BOY
CHAPTER THREE
THE BURNED BARN
CHAPTER FOUR
SHERIFF’S EYES
CHAPTER FIVE
A FATHER’S BOOTS
CHAPTER SIX
TOWN WITHOUT RAIN
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HORSE THAT WAITED
CHAPTER EIGHT
LETTERS HE NEVER SENT
CHAPTER NINE
THE BROKEN PIANO
CHAPTER TEN
FIRST PUNCH AT LOU’S TAVERN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LENA’S EYES, STILL SHARP
CHAPTER TWELVE
SUNDAY SERVICE, HOLLOW HYMNS
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE TAUGHT THE KID TO SHOOT
CHAPTER FOURTHEEN
THE RIVER TRAIL RIDE
CHAPTER FIFTHEEN
A PHOTOGRAPH IN HER DRAWER
CHAPTER SIXTHEEN
THE KISS IN THE SNOW
CHAPTER SEVENTHEEN
NASH BUILDS A GATE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LENA’S FATHER STILL HATES HIM
CHAPTER NINETHEEN
THE DEER THEY DIDN’T KILL
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE DAY HE DIDN’T RUN
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BROKEN AXLE, BROKEN SPIRIT
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE BANKER’S COLD SMILE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE STORM OVER MEDICINE RIDGE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A COLT WITH NO NAME
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE KID CALLS HIM ‘DAD’
It came out quiet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SOMEONE BURNS HIS FENCE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LOU WARNS HIM TO LEAVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BAR FIGHT, BAR SILENCE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE THE RAIN FINALLY COMES
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE CROPS WON’T GROW
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE DOG WON’T EAT
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO LENA’S GOODBYE
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HE SHOOTS A MAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR HE CAN’T REMEMBER WHY
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
BLOOD IN THE HAYLOFT
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THREE DAYS WITHOUT FIREWOOD
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THE MULE FREEZES
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT SNOW ON THE SADDLE
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE WHISKEY FOR BREAKFAST
CHAPTER FOURTY
HE BURIES THE DOG
CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE
DREAMS OF SAND AND FIRE
CHAPTER FOURTY-TWO
HE FINDS THE BIBLE
CHAPTER FOURTY-THREE THE BOY RETURNS
CHAPTER FOURTY-FIVE
THE GUN UNDER THE FLOORBOARD
CHAPTER FOURTY-SIX
THE SHERIFF COMES AGAIN
CHAPTER FOURTY-SEVEN
THE LAST RIDE TO LOU’S
CHAPTER FOURTY-EIGHT
THE MAN WHO TOOK THE LAND
CHAPTER FOURTY-NINE
A HANDSHAKE IN THE DUST
CHAPTER FIFTHY
SPRING NEVER CAME, BUT HE PLANTED ANYWAY
BOOK BLURB
Some men come back to nothing. Others come back to face everything.
After ten years lost to war, silence, and running from everything that mattered, Nash Carter returns to the dying Montana ranch where his name is a curse and his past walks with every step. The land is broken. The town is colder. And the woman he left behind still carries both fire and scars.
But this isn't a story of homecoming.
It’s a story of what happens after the comeback—when redemption doesn't come easy, when fences burn, and when silence screams louder than gunfire. As Nash struggles to rebuild the land, reconnect with the boy who may be his son, and finally face the ghosts that followed him home, one truth becomes clear:
The hardest battles aren’t fought with rifles.
They’re fought with memory, forgiveness, and staying when it’s easier to leave.
Gritty, raw, and quietly redemptive, Nash Fall is a story of men, land, and what it takes to plant roots where everything once burned.
DEDICATION
To the ones who stayed,
when it would’ve been easier to walk away.
To the ones rebuilding,
even with shaking hands.
And to every man or woman
whoever came home different—
but came home anyway.
This story is yours.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every story has roots, and this one run deep.
To the quiet fighters—the ranchers, soldiers, single parents, and lost souls who keep showing up, even when no one is watching—this book was born from your grit.
To the readers who believe in slow stories, in stillness, and in characters who bleed quietly—you give stories like this a place to land.
To those walking through their own long winters:
May your spring come, even if it’s late.
To the team behind the scenes—editors, mentors, and supporters who believe in stories with weight—thank you for letting this one breathe.
And to the ghosts:
Thank you for staying long enough to teach me what letting go really means.
— Warren Fjord
PREFACE
This is not a story about heroes.
It’s a story about a man who left. And then came back.
Nash Fall is the kind of story that grows out of silence—the kind of silence that follows war, heartbreak, or just too many years spent running from the things that hurt. It’s about land that won’t forgive easily, love that doesn’t wait forever, and choices that echo long after they’re made.
I wrote this not to glorify pain, but to show what it takes to come home when you don’t believe you deserve one.
What it takes to plant something in dry ground.
What it means to build, even when everything in you wants to break.
You won’t find perfection in these pages.
What you will find is an honest man, trying.
That’s more than most stories offer. And more than most men admit.
If you’ve ever felt lost in your own life, if you’ve ever carried weight that wasn’t visible, and if you’ve ever stood in front of something broken and tried to fix it anyway—then this story is for you.
Because not all falls are fatal.
Some are necessary.
— Warren Fjord
CHAPTER ONE
THE FENCE POST
The post had cracked in two places. Nash stood there with the sun bleeding out behind the ridge. He held a hammer in one hand, but he didn’t swing it.
The soil was dry. Cracked like old hands. He pressed his boot against the base of the fence. It didn’t give. He didn’t, either.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone in two days. Just the wind and the mule and a rusted radio that didn’t pick up anything but static and God talk. He turned it off yesterday. He liked the silence better.
The ranch looked the same, but emptier. Weeds up to the windowpanes. Barn half-ash. Gate swinging loose in the wind.
They told him not to come back. Not in so many words, but the way they looked at him in the diner when he walked in with the scars on his face and the limp in his leg. He saw it. Small towns say more with stares than speeches.
He drove twelve hours straight to get here. No stops. No plan.
Nash dropped the hammer. The sound was small but sharp.
It wasn’t about fixing the fence. It was about proving he could.
He wasn’t sure he still could.
CHAPTER TWO
THE COFFEE BOY
The boy showed up again the next morning. Same coat, same mule, same quiet way of looking like he belonged.
“You fix it?” he asked, nodding at the fence.
“No,” Nash said. “Not yet.”
The boy shrugged. He had a thermos this time. Held it out. Nash took it.
“Black?”
“Always.”
They sat on the porch. Wood creaked under their weight. The sun hadn’t warmed anything yet, but the coffee helped.
“What’s your name?” Nash asked.
“Eli.”
“Eli,” Nash repeated, like trying it on.
They didn’t say anything for a while. The wind rustled the weeds. A crow picked at the edge of the gravel road. The mule stood like a statue.
“You the one left?” Eli asked. “They say everyone else died or left.”
“Maybe both.”
Eli took that in like it made perfect sense. “I’m just up the hill. My ma says you used to be tough.”
“I used to be a lot of things.”
He handed the thermos back. Eli stood.
“Ma says you got a war in your eyes.”
“Tell your ma to mind her coffee.”
The boy grinned. Walked off.
Nash watched him go.
He didn’t know if the kid was bold, dumb, or just lonely.
Maybe all three.
