Warriors of St. Antoni is the first of my new Portal Worlds series. The book is still being written and edited, so what you read today is subject to change without notice in the published version.
On St. Antoni you got tough or you died. The only defense is a gun; your security is your ability to use it. This is the story of three sisters and the choices they make to survive on St. Antoni. Bethany marries a mercenary warrior to shield her family from a predatory neighbor. To protect her sister, Iris chooses between an arranged marriage with a beloved friend and an outlaw. Jeanne and the son of her greatest enemy defy both their families to find love.
Technology to find and open gateways to alternative worlds was found on earth in the late 21st century. Those expecting to get rich off the tremendous resources on these new worlds controlled Access to them. People talk though, and it wasn’t long before the new technology became common knowledge and unregulated Portals cropped up. Illegal settlers passed through Forbidden gates looking for new places to live and find adventure and liberty.
With only the technology they could carry or build from raw materials on St. Antoni they built a new way of life. To survive they must rely on themselves. The learned to master deadly plants and animals. On St. Antoni, Adventure was a one-way trip to a hardscrabble life and Freedom meant relying on yourself for food, a roof over your head and safety.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is unintentional and accidental. © Gail Daley 2017 All Rights reserved. Any duplication of this work electronically or printed, except for brief publicity quotes, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author. Cover Art © by Gail Daley’s Fine Art 2017
Serial Chapters are posted on Fridays. Check in next Friday for the next chapter of Warriors of St. Antoni
Click below to Download a PDF copy and start reading Chapter 2 – The Letter
THE YOUNG runner looked doubtfully again at the letter he was being paid fifty copper chips to deliver. It was addressed to A. McCaffey, esq. The sign over the door simply read “McCaffey & Miller Range & Mine Detecting”. The messenger shrugged and opened the door. Inside the plain room were two wooden desks, a gun rack, and a wood burning stove with a battered coffee pot and two tables, one of which housed a stack of wanted flyers. The faded window shade that came halfway up the window fronting the street was drawn, but intense light glared in over the top of the glass panes.
The two desks had been positioned so that anyone entering by the door was automatically caught between them, but it wasn’t just the feeling of being trapped that made the messenger uncomfortable; it was the men. On the surface, this should not have happened. Outwardly, the two looked like prosperous townsmen, but the messenger could sense a faint edge of vulnerability when he entered the office and it made him nervous. On St. Antoni, you paid attention to things like that or you died. The young messenger had been living on his own for more than ten years and he was still alive.
The older man was tall and skinny with a grey beard and bushy eyebrows, dressed in a faded plaid shirt should have looked neat and tidy, but somehow didn’t. The younger man was a little below medium height with a tough wiry build and mild brown eyes in a wedge-shaped face. He was dressed in a neat dark suit with a white shirt and string tie. Despite their different appearances, they regarded the messenger with almost identical expressions of quiet watchfulness.
“Ah—which of you is A. McCaffey?” the messenger inquired looking desperately from one to the other.
“That would be me.” The younger man held out his hand for the letter.
The messenger thrust a clipboard at him in haste. “Oh, please sign here, sir.” A. McCaffey dipped a quill in an open inkwell on the desk and scrawled a signature. He accepted the letter pushed at him, and exchanged grins with the old man as the messenger fled without waiting for a tip.
“You suppose he’ll change his drawers after he gets back to the office?” the old man was trying hard not to laugh. “You really oughtn’t to scare the boy that way. It’s bad for business.”
McCaffey made a rude noise. “Shut up, Henry. Besides, maybe it was your sour puss that scared him.”
The return address was the Golden Tricorn ranch in River Crossing. He turned the letter over several times before he opened it and began to read. Afterwards, he shoved it at Henry and went to stand looking out the window although not directly in front of it, as Henry read.
Henry was a slow, deliberate reader. When he was through, he refolded it carefully. Thoughtfully, he tapped it on the desk.
“Well, now. This is quite a proposition. Going to do it?”
“How, the Hell should I know?” Alec demanded almost fiercely.
Henry tapped the letter again. “Don’t hurt nothing to meet her, check out the situation. You can always say no. Been awhile since we got out in the field.”
Alec gave him an old-fashioned look over his shoulder. “You think I should go find out, don’t you?”
“Son, you ain’t been happy for a while. Oh, we’re making money, especially since we started hiring men for fieldwork, instead of doing the tough jobs ourselves, but you been looking for something. Maybe this is it.”