A Book Review of “Assassin” by D. N. Hoxa

Review by Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

 

A Tough, Gritty Heroine

This a what I consider a “hard” fantasy, in that the plot and the action is all deadly serious. (If you are looking for a comic fantasy, this isn’t it). It has a tough, gritty heroine who has been betrayed on all sides by those she trusted. Much of the back story is told in flashbacks, which ordinarily I am not a fan of, but they are handled very well here. The story ends with a satisfying conclusion, but leaves a lot of unanswered questions, which I assume will be answered by the other books in the series. I don’t mind this if the author doesn’t drag the mystery out for too long. How long is too long you ask? Well, in my opinion, stringing readers along and dribbling out tidbits of information about an important sub-plot for more than a trilogy or at the most four books is not playing fair with the reader. Then it becomes about selling books not good storytelling.

At any rate, I am curious enough to give the other two books a try. Four Stars.

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Freaky Games by Amanda M. Lee

A Book Review of

“Freaky Games (A Mystic Caravan Mystery Book 4)” by Amanda M. Lee

Review by Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

 

This is the third? or fourth? entry in this series, and Lee is in fine form. Interestingly enough, part of the villainy in this story is human rather than supernatural.

On the character side the MCs gay best friend (Luke) deals with jealousy and feelings of being replaced when Poet’s relationship with Kade becomes more solid. This is the second time the author has dealt with this issue in one of her series and it is handled with delicacy. However, if you’ve read the Aisling Grimlock series, much of this subject is simply a rehash of that book. I would have liked to learn a little more about Max and Poet’s pasts. Four stars.

A Book Review of

“Freaky Games (A Mystic Caravan Mystery Book 4)” by Amanda M. Lee

Review by Mystery Loves History aka Gail Daley

 

This is the third? or fourth? entry in this series, and Lee is in fine form. Interestingly enough, part of the villainy in this story is human rather than supernatural.

On the character side the MCs gay best friend (Luke) deals with jealousy and feelings of being replaced when Poet’s relationship with Kade becomes more solid. This is the second time the author has dealt with this issue in one of her series and it is handled with delicacy. However, if you’ve read the Aisling Grimlock series, much of this subject is simply a rehash of that book. I would have liked to learn a little more about Max and Poet’s pasts. Four stars.

To Have & To Hold and Queen’s Gambit

It’s Friday, so it’s time to post the next chapter in the serial the Warriors of St. Antoni. This week I’m giving you a bonus – 2 chapters of the serial.

Warriors of St. Antoni is the first of my new Portal World Tales. 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 got dead. The only defense is a gun; your safety depends on 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 baby sister, Iris chooses an arranged marriage with a beloved old friend. Jeanne and the son of their greatest enemy defy both their families to find love.

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: To Have & To Hold And the next chapter Queen’s Gambit

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SINCE IT WAS considered bad luck for Carlos to see her today, Iris had stayed in her room this morning while everyone else started cleaning up after the fire.

Patrice, her head milkmaid peeked around the door at her. “Oh, you do look beautiful,” she said.

Iris laughed. “Thank you, but this is just the underdress. Come in and tell me how things are going with the clean-up.”

“We did fine in the dairy, although I must say it was a real relief to get those dead outlaws out of the cheese room! I told Tim and the other men to wrap the bodies in the used cheese cloth like you said, and even Tim had to admit it cut down on the smells.”

“Did they get the graves dug?”

“Mrs. Giselle had the graves dug in Outlaws corner of the cemetery. The preacher did a fine funeral, even though those murdering outlaws didn’t deserve it.”

“Is George behaving?” Iris asked, referring to her pet Billy goat who considered himself king of her milk goats.”

Patrice grinned, “Well he’s still pretty full of himself after his he beat up all the other Billy goats when we were across the river.”

Bethany came in just then carrying a tray with two plates. “I brought you lunch, and I thought I would eat up here with you.”

She set the tray down on the dresser and picked up a sheet to drape over her sister. “Here this should protect that beautiful dress while you eat.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Iris confessed.

“That’s nerves,” Patrice told her. “You need to eat something, anyway.”

“Yes,” agreed Bethany. “You don’t want to have an empty stomach when you and Carlos drink champagne on your wedding night.”

“We gave you brandy, and you said it was awful,” protested Iris.

“Yes, but Alec brought up the champagne with him. It was much better.”

Patrice left the two sisters, closing the door softly behind her. It was a shame that Jeanne couldn’t be here as well, she thought.

After pushing her food around on her plate enough to satisfy her sister, Iris stood in front of the mirror in her room as Lisette and Bethany helped her into her wedding dress.

Iris and Carlos were married on the Patio. The heavy scent of Giselle’s blooming bushes filled the air. In deference to Mike’s wheeled chair, he waited at the Altar with Carlos and Preacher Meeker. The afternoon sun cast glittering sparkles on Iris’ white-blond hair. The wide brimmed, flower covered hat she wore instead of a veil shielded Iris’ face from Carlos, but she could easily see his expression as she walked toward him. She hoped she was correctly interpreting the combination of tenderness and lust she read there as love.

For Iris, the small private wedding attended only by close family and friends was perfect. She detested the limelight and intense focus that had been on Bethany and Alec when they married. She knew there had been reasons for it; by the public display the St. Vyr’s had declared to the world around them that the St. Vyr family was still strong enough to defend itself and that Bethany was off limits as a lever to be used against her loved ones.

It had been decided during the prior night’s midnight conference that Iris and Carlos would spend their wedding night at the St. Vyr’s suite in River Crossings Hotel. Alec, Bethany, Henry and Giselle would ride into town as well, but later in the day so attention would not be drawn to the fact that only Mike and the hands would be left to mind the ranch.

Iris smiled when Bethany and Giselle slipped into her hotel room as she was removing the traveling outfit she had worn from the ranch. They brought up an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two long stemmed glasses.

“It tastes better than the brandy they gave me, and it will be just as effective to help you relax,” Bethany explained, setting the bucket on the dresser.

“I’m not afraid of Carlos,” Iris said mildly.

“I wasn’t afraid of Alec either,” Bethany replied, “But this is going to be the first time you and Carlos will be naked in front of each other. At least I assume it will be.”

Iris’ pale skin flushed with embarrassment. “Do you have to talk like that?”

“Why not?” Bethany inquired.

“Girls,” Giselle intervened. “Bethany lay out Iris’s nightgown, the blue one. Iris turn around so I can undo these buttons.”

The blue nightgown had been designed to complement the wedding trousseau; the silky material clung like a second skin, barely covering Iris’ full breasts and it was slit up the sides to her hips. Underneath it, she was naked. Iris blushed red again when she looked at herself in the mirror.

Bethany had popped the cork on the champagne and poured Iris a glass. “Here,” she advised, “take a good sip, it will help you relax.” She didn’t bother asking Iris if she knew how a man and woman made love; Giselle had made sure all her granddaughters were acquainted with the facts of life.

Both women kissed Iris goodnight and slipped out the door just as Carlos was coming up.

“Goodnight,” Giselle told him.

“You better treat her right,” Bethany warned him as they left.

They had no need to warn him to treat Iris gently. She was his dream girl, a fragile woman to be cared for tenderly and adored. He had no intention of repeating his performance in the hallway after they had come up from the revue, or his behavior after the fight at Bethany and Alec’s reception. Frowning a little, Carlos shut the door and turned to look at his wife, stopping dead in his tracks as an enormous surge of lust caught him unaware. The wedding dress had muted her sexuality, but this gown revealed all that the dress had shielded.

Iris took another gulp of the champagne. “They left this,” she pointed to the bucket. “Would you like some?” Despite her confident words to her sister, her voice squeaked a little.

Carlos heard the underlying nervousness and caught hold of himself.

“That sounds good. Why don’t I sit here while you bring me a glass,” he sat down on the overstuffed armchair by the window.

Very conscious of his eyes devouring her, Iris went to the dresser and poured a second glass. When she brought it to him, he took it and set it on the table and then pulled her down into his lap.

“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” she said, a little defensively, “but this is new to both of us. What if I don’t do it right?”

Carlos snorted. “So, we keep trying until we get it right. Just like learning to ride a horse.”

Iris gave a gasp of laughter at the image is words provoked, almost spitting the champagne. He caught her glass before it spilled on them and set it on the table with his.

Carlos slid his hand into the silky mane of her hair and pulled her mouth to his own, parting her lips with his tongue. The invasion of his mouth started a pleasant tickling sensation in her groin, and she could feel the fabric of her thin gown and his shirt against her hardening nipples. When he cupped her full breast with his hand and rubbed a thumb across them, she moved restlessly against him, her hands skimming over the tight muscles under his shirt.

When she fingered the buttons tentatively, he encouraged, “Go ahead, I want to feel your hands on me.”

His skin was smooth, with a light sprinkling of hair on his chest. Iris combed her fingers through it, sliding her hands over his hard ribs to the waist of his pants. Carlos moaned in pleasure against her mouth, and abruptly stood up, keeping hold of her so she felt his hard arousal as her legs pressed against his.

Iris turned to face him, pressing a kiss on his throat while her hands pushed the shirt off his wide shoulders. Carlos dropped both hands to cup her bottom under the nightgown, lifting her against him. The slit sides of the gown allowed Iris to wrap both legs around his waist, soothing the need in her nether mouth.

She made a small protesting sound when Carlos let go and let her legs drop.

“Hold on Darling, let me get my pants off,” his voice was guttural. He stepped out of his pants and lifted the edge of her gown, pulling it over her head before catching her under the buttocks and lifting her again. Iris flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her tongue dueling with his as he walked toward the bed. Turning around, he fell backward on the bed with her riding his hips. He rocked, his shaft rubbing against her nether mouth, and Iris moaned.

“Ride me,” he whispered, and she rubbed herself against him frantically, going over the edge when he stroked both her nipples with his thumbs.

When she collapsed atop him after her climax, Carlos rolled, lifting them both further up on the bed. Frantic now to assuage his own lust he thrust himself between her already spread legs. Iris gave a gasp of pain and stiffened under him as he broke through the tight barrier inside her womb.

Carlos kissed her again, lifting himself so he could rub her nipples again to bring her back with him. She was too sated to be fully roused, but when she wiggled against him, he couldn’t resist, and began moving inside her. His movements softened and lubricated her channel and pleasure returned. When he gave a final thrust, and pumped into her, she felt an echo of that earlier intense gratification.

Iris was yawning when they joined the family at breakfast in the dining room the next morning. Carlos had woken her three more times in the night to make intense love to her. She had enjoyed it each time, but she was conscious of a little soreness between her legs.

Iris ignored the amused and knowing looks her sister and Grandmother gave her when she and Carlos both ordered a hearty breakfast.

“I spoke to a couple of folks last night after you married folks all went to bed,” Henry said. “Hennessy hasn’t been seen here in town for a couple of days, so he may be hiding out up at the mine.”

Alec nodded. “Henry, you and I will go to his house and ask his wife if she knows where he is.” He looked at Carlos and Iris. “You two be careful up there. Hennessy may be a cowardly rat, but rats have teeth.”

“Then it’s good that both of us are going,” Iris said, adding as she correctly interpreted the scowl on Carlos’ face, “No, I will not stay here and hide, so don’t even think about it.”

Click below to Download a PDF copy and start reading: The Queen’s Gambit

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FOR SOME time after Iris and the men had left the Hotel to find Hennessy, Giselle and Bethany sat at a table dining room, thoughtfully sipping their coffee.

The plan the family discussed earlier had Alec and Henry paying a visit to Hennessy’s home to search for evidence of his complicity in forging the loan papers and searching the town for him if he wasn’t home. Iris and Carlos intended to take the train up to the mine and search Hennessy’s office and rooms there to see if they could find evidence he had forged St. Vyr’s signature on loan papers.

“He is a very painstaking man,” Carlos had said. “If he made an agreement with Lutz, he will have kept a written record of it to avoid being cheated.”

Giselle had an additional plan she chose not to share with her son and grand-sons-in-law.

“Bethany,” Giselle said rising from the table, “come upstairs, put on some old riding clothes and put your hair up under an old hat. You and I are also going to pay someone a visit.”

“Why do we need old clothes?”

“Because we don’t want to be seen visiting Antoinette Larrabee. If anyone knows something we can use against Lutz, it’s her.”

“Why would she tell you what she knows?”

“She and I once lived in the same emigrant camp,” Giselle said, as they headed upstairs. “At one time, we were friends.”

On the way to their rooms, she stopped and ordered the hotel clerk to send to a note to the local stable requesting two saddled tricorns be brought to the back of the Hotel.

She nodded approvingly when she saw their nondescript appearance. Mounting, Giselle led the way upriver, walking the animals until they passed the edge of town so as not to attract much notice leaving. Once they were out of sight of the town, she urged her tricorn to a faster pace.

Bethany hadn’t asked many questions, but seeing the direction they were riding, she was puzzled enough to ask, “Where are we going? There is nothing out this way.”

“We’re going the back way into Minerstown,” Giselle informed her. “We don’t want to be seen going there, or have it known who we are going to see, so we will be using the ford about ten miles upriver.”

“Ah—who are we going to see? I thought you said we would be visiting Antoinette Larrabee. Does she live up here?”

“Antoinette owns La Belle Sans Merci.”

Her granddaughter gasped. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“But—Gran—that’s a bawdy house!”

“Yes, and we are going to be talking to the head bawd. Treat her like a lady when you meet her. And for the love of Pete, don’t go telling your husband about this visit!”

“No kidding,” Bethany muttered to herself.

For an hour, they traveled north along the edge of Black River, arriving finally at a wide ford not much used by anyone. The ford wasn’t exactly shallow; the water was high enough both women ended up soaked to the tops of their boots, but it was crossable on the tricorns.

Once across, Giselle kicked her tricorn into an easy lope to traverse the trail into the back side of Minerstown.

Unlike River Crossing with its clusters of houses extending behind the businesses grouped around the center of town, Minerstown had one long street. Saloons, hash houses, sleeping dormitories, the Chinese laundry, a dry goods store and those places advertising feminine company lined both sides of that long street. At the very end of town, La Belle Sans Merci occupied a large two story building. Unlike most of the other buildings, it had been painted, and was surrounded by a neatly kept garden and white picket fence.

From the rear, the building looked to Bethany like just a very large mansion. A stable and corral were set off to the left.

Giselle rode right up to the stable and dismounted. The young boy who came to take their mounts, stopped dead when he realized he was facing two women.

“Ma’am,” he blurted out, “you shouldn’t be here!”

Giselle tied her tricorn to the hitching rail. “Never mind that. Please give Madam Antoinette this,” she handed the boy a small pouch. “Tell her an old friend wants to talk to her. We will wait here until you come back.”

He accepted the pouch and bowed to her. “Better you wait in here, Missus,” he said, opening a door to a small office. “No will see you there.”

“Thank you. Come, girl.”

Bethany dismounted and followed her grandmother. She waited until the boy had closed the door before she whispered. “He acted like he knew you. Have you been here before?”

“Not for a long time. Antoinette and I lived together in the emigrant camp in Gateway City after your grandfather was murdered.”

“I never knew that. You don’t usually talk much about that time. I’d like to hear more if you want to tell me.”

Giselle sat down on a dusty couch she suspected doubled as the boy’s bed and patted the seat beside her. When Bethany joined her, she said, “I don’t talk much about it, because I was forced to do some things I’m not proud of to keep your father and I fed and housed.”

“Were you a—I mean—”

Giselle laughed. “No, I didn’t have to sell myself, but for a time I was a Portal Runner, a thief and a grifter. I told fortunes and read cards. A woman alone in a place like that—well it’s hard. The Tresoni family ran the camp and the City then. There was a set of rules serving as laws, but unless you killed someone they pretty much left us to settle things ourselves. I learned to use a knife and a gun to defend Michael and myself. That is why I made sure you girls could shoot and defend yourselves. Several of the women in the camp banded together to help each other. At first, there was only Antoinette and myself but eventually there were seven of us. We formed our own network of influence to help each other as much as we could. Some of us made different choices in our lives, but the bond is still there. Or so I hope.”

She had given Bethany a lot to think about. When the boy opened the door, she looked up in surprise. “Madam will see you now, Missus,” he said. “Please to follow me.”

He led them in through the kitchen, and up the backstairs to a sitting room. Madam Antoinette was not at all what Bethany expected. She was tall and slim, dressed in an afternoon tea dress that any lady might have worn. Her face bore a minimum of makeup, and her once gold hair, showing only the barest touch of gray, was bound up in a chignon, fastened with a single gold clasp. She greeted Giselle with both hands held out.

“Giselle, how wonderful to see you. You look just the same. And this must be one of your granddaughters.”

“It’s good to see you as well Antoinette. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, but as you may have heard, we’ve had a lot of trouble keeping us busy lately.”

She drew Bethany forward. “This is my eldest granddaughter, Bethany. Bethany just got married.”

“How do you do, Ma’am,” Bethany said, dropping a curtsy.

Antoinette chuckled. “My, what lovely manners! It’s nice to meet you Bethany. Congratulations on your marriage.” She turned to Giselle, “I heard about your son. I’m so sorry.”

Giselle nodded. “Thank you. He will live. That is what matters. You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes. Oh, my goodness where are my manners! Please sit down.”

Once they were all sitting, Antoinette nervously pleated a fold of her dress. “I don’t know if you heard, but my daughter Sandra and her husband were killed in a rock slide four years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Giselle exclaimed. “We have lost touch, haven’t we? Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I sent a message to the house in Copper City, but I guess you didn’t get it.”

“No, the war between the Jones and the Smiths was heating up, and everyone was having a hard time getting any communications out; both sides intercepted private messages right and left during those years. Didn’t they have a child? Was she killed too?”

“No, she was staying with her father’s parents at the time. They asked if that could continue, and since I didn’t want her living here, I said yes. That is why I wrote you.”

“What can I do for you, old friend?”

“Glenna is old enough to get married now. She wants to come out here to see me. She doesn’t understand that if she lived with me, people—men—would assume that she is what I have become.”

“Are you sorry you chose as you did? If you want to start over somewhere else—”

“No, I made my choices, and I will live with them. But I don’t want Glenna to have to make that choice. If she had a respectable family to sponsor her when she comes…”

“Why couldn’t she stay with us?” inquired Bethany. “We could arrange for the two of you to meet away from here, if that’s what troubles you. I think there is a cabin on this side of the river that could be fixed up. The two of you could spend time there together.”

Both older women turned to look at her in surprise. “Have I said something wrong?” she asked.

Giselle smiled at her. “No, you haven’t. I think that would be an excellent idea. If you will give me her direction, Antoinette, I will write to her and invite her to stay with us. We will say she is a friend of Bethany’s.”

Antoinette wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Giselle. I shouldn’t have doubted you, but when I didn’t hear from you after Sandra and Frank died, I thought—well you can probably guess what I thought.”

“I saw Amy in Junction City. I know she would be glad to hear from you. Why don’t you write to her?”

“I’ll do that. I am glad you came, Giselle, but I know you are still having troubles, and if what I hear is true, they aren’t over yet.”

“What have you heard?”

“I heard that Frank Lutz plans to foreclose on your ranch and mine with some papers a man named Hennessy forged for him.”

Giselle nodded. “I need an edge,” she admitted. “What do you know about Lutz?”

“I know that isn’t his real name. His real name is Smith, and he’s originally from Copper City.”

“It’s strange he didn’t go back when they came to power last year.”

“He can’t. He’s hiding from Caleb Jones.”

“But the Jones, lost the war,” Bethany said, puzzled. “Why would he still be hiding?”

“Caleb Jones didn’t die, and he’s been hunting Jake Smith for years. Caleb was Jones’s toughest enforcer. He can use a variety of weapons, including martial arts, and he’s mean as a sander. You see, Jake Smith raped and killed his baby sister ten years ago.” She paused and looked at Giselle. “Caleb Jones is in Bitterstone right now, or at least he was two weeks ago.”

“And he still wants revenge on Smith, alias Lutz?”

“The grapevine says he does. He adored that little girl. The man who told me this recognized Lutz and wanted to warn me about him. Lutz likes to rough up the girls, and he prefers them very young. My friend didn’t need to tell me that though. Two years ago, I had a young girl working in the kitchen. She was only thirteen, too young to work the backstairs, but Lutz saw her. He cornered her one night when we were especially busy and tried to rape her. I threw him out, but he told me unless he got to use her, he would see to it that I was put out of business. I got her away and he backed off, but Lutz still comes around and threatens me. My friend gave me the name of a man in Bitterstone who knows how to reach Caleb Jones.”

She rose and went to her desk and took a piece of paper out of a drawer. “Here, this is the address.”

Giselle took it. “Don’t you want to keep it in case you need it?”

Antoinette smiled grimly at her. “I already used it, but Lutz doesn’t know that, does he? If you tell him you won’t use it, to make him give you the forged documents, who is going to tell him you aren’t the only one who knows who he is?”

The two older women exchanged looks of understanding. Bethany kept her mouth shut.

Giselle stood up, “I need your granddaughter’s address as well.”

As they mounted and rode away from the pleasure house, Bethany looked over at her grandmother in wonder. “Gran,” she asked, “is there any place on St. Antoni where you don’t know someone with information when you need it?”

“A few places,” Giselle admitted. “It’s time for you girls to begin to know about the women’s network and meet the next generation. This is what we do, honey, this is how we survive.”

Returning to the Hotel by the same route, they left the tricorns tied to the back of the building, letting the porter know to have them returned to the stable. Once back upstairs, Giselle and Bethany put on the clothes they regularly wore in town.

Outside the bank, Giselle looked over at her granddaughter. “You remember what I told you to do?”

Bethany nodded, nothing in her face showing how nervous she was. She held open the door so her grandmother could enter.

Giselle nodded at the smattering of customers and acquaintances in the bank lobby they passed on their way to Lutz’s office. His office was off to the side, with glass halfway up the walls so he could watch his employees while they worked. Giselle entered without knocking. Lutz rose from his chair as she entered.

“Why Mrs. St. Vyr, what a pleasant surprise. How can I help you today?” he asked genially.

Giselle seated herself on the leather chair opposite Lutz’s enormous desk. Bethany closed and locked the office door and then pulled down the shades on the windows before coming to sit in the chair beside Giselle’s.

Lutz’s eyebrows rose. “I take it this is a private matter?”

Giselle folded her hands in her lap, allowing her eyes to run over him. Lutz was short with a round, moon shaped face and sandy hair.

“Yes, Jake Smith, this is a private matter.”

Lutz quickly hid his startled expression under a surprised one. “Jake Smith? Who is that?”

“Don’t bother to pretend you don’t understand me, Mr. Smith. I used to live in Copper City, remember. Survival there meant becoming very familiar with all the prominent members of both the Smith and Jones families. You are a little fatter, but you haven’t changed that much.”

He sat back down in his chair slowly, his benign expression hardening. “What do you want?”

“I still have ties to some of the Jones family. Caleb Jones is still alive, you know,” she said, watching his face, smiling a little when she saw the flicker of fear.

“What do you think he will do when I tell him where you are?”

“He can’t do anything,” Smith, alias Lutz blustered. “The Jones family is no longer in power.”

Giselle laughed, a light rippling sound. “I don’t think he will care about that, do you? You killed and raped his baby sister, Smith. Caleb has a long memory.”

Smith was breathing a little fast. “I had an alibi,” he said.

“Your brother and his wife? The Jones think your alibi was a lie, they just didn’t have time to prove it because the war was going on. In any case, I don’t think Caleb Jones will care about that. You should have left my family alone, Mr. Smith.”

“What do you want?” he repeated.

“I certainly think that not passing on this information to Caleb Jones will be worth my price. I want every piece of paper you have about the ranch, the mine, and the railroad stock, signed or not, and I want them right now.”

Smith’s teeth drew back over his lips in a snarl. “I don’t have them all here in this office.”

She waited, just looking at him.

“Some of them yes, but the others are at my home.”

“Then we will visit your lovely wife while you retrieve them,” she replied.

He looked at her slyly. “There might be other copies out there; I don’t have them all.”

She smiled at him. “Hennessy’s copies are being retrieved as we speak.”

He glared at her and went to the safe behind his desk. Bethany rose and followed him. He glanced at her and flinched when he saw the pistol in her hand. He opened the safe and reached inside.

“No,” Bethany said mildly. “Go and sit down over there in the corner. I will look for them.”

Glaring in impotent fury, Smith did as he was told.

Bethany removed the pistol inside the safe and took several bundles of papers out and put them on the desk, along with several heavy bags of gold and silver chips. Setting these aside, she carefully went through the papers, removing any that had any connection to her family, the ranch or the mine. After returning the money bags and the other papers to the safe, she closed it and stuck the pistol in her shoulderbag. Picking up the papers she had selected, she folded them and tucked them inside it as well.

Meticulously, she also went through all the drawers in the desk and in the file cabinet next to the wall. “I think this is all he has here, Gran,” she said.

“Excellent,” Giselle said. She gestured for Smith to get up. “Let’s go and pay a visit to your lovely wife, shall we?”

Sullenly, he stood up and led the way out of his office. Bethany tucked her gun back inside her shoulder bag and followed Giselle and Smith. She kept her hand on it though. She didn’t really think he would cause any trouble; it was broad daylight and there were too many potential witnesses around for him to try any tricks, but it never hurt to be safe.

Bethany and Giselle left Smith, alias Lutz fuming at his house and attempting to explain to his irate wife why he had allowed the two women to search their home.

“I’m sending you back to Copper City to visit your family,” he told her. “It isn’t safe here right now. I’ll follow you as soon as I can.

 

Writing short stories

I thought some of the people who follow me might find this blogger interesting.

Amanda McCoy

daisiesAfter some of the responses I got from my last post, I started to get the impression that people might actually struggle with writing short stories. Until another writer pointed it out to me, I kind of always thought that short stories were easy for everyone. Ya know, something a writer could crank out in an afternoon, no problem.

I guess I developed that point of view because of my writing background. While most writers started out writing simplistic stories when they were kids, I started out writing poetry as a kid. See, my family is very Irish, and it’s a family tradition that all the girls learn to write poetry or lyrics. So, while everyone else was writing daring tales of their heroic pet cat, I was twisting words to describe a blue sky or the shape of a cloud.

In poetry word choice is everything. Poets don’t…

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Of Cabbages & Kings – Warriors of St. Antoni

It’s Friday, so it’s time to post the next chapter in the ongoing serial the Warriors of St. Antoni.

Warriors of St. Antoni is the first of my new Portal World Tales. 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 got dead. The only defense is a gun; your safety depends on 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. Iris chooses an arranged marriage with a beloved old friend. Jeanne and the son of their greatest enemy defy both their families to find love.

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: Of Cabbages & Kings

https://www.facebook.com/groups/GailDaleyWriter/

THEY FOUND Mike sitting by the fishpond with Razor stretched out on his lap, a rusty purr sounding as St. Vyr stroked his back.

Alec started the ball rolling. “Mike, did you know Lutz is planning to foreclose on the ranch and the mine?”

“What?” St. Vyr roared. “Who told you that?”

“Ira Johnson said so,” Carlos replied.

“Johnson? Is that stinking rat here?”

“Not anymore; he left.”

Is there a loan on the ranch or the mine?”

“No, there is not,” Mike snapped. “Why the hell would I need a loan?”

“You signed nothing like that?”

“No. If they have something with my signature, it’s a fake.”

Alec sat down beside Mike on the bench. “Who do you know familiar enough with it to forge your signature on documents?”

“Gary Hennessy,” Carlos said, taking a seat on the raised flowerbed across from the bench.

“Who is that?”

“The accountant I hired to keep the books at the mine and the ranch,” Mike answered. “Why do you think it’s him?”

“He has a gambling problem and a wife with expensive tastes. As far as I know it hasn’t affected his work yet, but I’ve been watching him.”

Bethany and Iris came out of the house with the sheriff.

“St. Vyr, I need to hear your account of what happened when Emory Johnson came into your room today,” Morrison said. “I’m going to need a spare tricorn to haul his body to the undertaker in town.”

“Sure.” St. Vyr turned to the two young men. “Go ahead and finish clearing up after the fire. We’ll finish this discussion and make some plans to deal with Hennessy and Lutz, as soon as I’m done here.”

“Sheriff, it’s too late to travel back to town. We can make you a bed in the house so you won’t need to ride back tonight,” Bethany offered.

Morrison nodded. “Thank you. Now Mike, start with when you first saw Johnson.”

Carlos found Iris, Paco, Macon and several dairymen and maids trying to round up the goats who had fled the fire. King George trailed Iris like a puppy, complaining all the time and getting in the way.

The goats were enjoying their taste of freedom and reluctant to return to captivity. They hadn’t been near enough to the fire to become frightened, but they didn’t like the smell of burned grass. Whenever it seemed Iris and her troops were about to succeed in returning them to the pastures, the goats escaped without going through the gate.

After studying the situation, Carlos went to the grain bin and filled a bucket with some of the special feed Iris reserved for her milk goats. He began leaving a trail of grain on the ground leading inside the gate. Discovering the treat, the goats scrambled inside and Iris was at last able to close the gate on them.

“Whew!” she exclaimed, giving him a big smile. “I wish I had thought of doing that a half hour ago! Thank you.”

He put his arm around her and pulled her toward the house. “Yes,” he said, “we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“I—yes, we do,” she admitted.

“I want to get married Iris,” he said, “to you. What do you want?”

“I—yes, I will marry you.”

Carlos pulled her to him and kissed her until she was dizzy.

Plans for the coming wedding of Iris and Carlos occupied the family through dinner and the rest of the evening.

Later that night, after the sheriff had gone to bed, the family held an impromptu meeting in Mike’s bedroom.

“We need to get a handle on this fast,” Mike said grimly. “I want to know if there actually is a loan against the ranch or the mine showing my signature, or if Johnson was just blowing wind.”

“I’d like to know how Johnson knew about it,” Iris said.

“We need to question Hennessy about that, and about the loan,” Bethany said.

“Where does he usually hang out?” Alec asked.

Carlos frowned a little. “He and his wife have a small house in town, but I got the impression he doesn’t spend a lot of time there. His office up at the mine has a cot in it, so I think he stays overnight sometimes.”

“Then finding and questioning Hennessy will be my job. Carlos, since you are more familiar with the mine, I suggest you go and search the offices to see if Hennessy left a record of any deal he has with Lutz there.”

“I’ll go with him,” Iris announced. “I’m very good and finding places to hide things.”

Her father snorted. “If you’re going to go traipsing up there with Carlos, the two of you should go ahead and get hitched. I’ll send for the preacher in the morning.”

“Iris deserves to have our wedding be a special day,” Carlos protested. “Not some rushed affair—”

Iris patted his hand. “A small private wedding will suit me. We can hold a reception at the Hotel and invite everyone else later.”

“Good,” Mike said. “In the morning, I plan to send a man to town to bring back the preacher so we can get those men buried. He can stay to lunch and marry you and Iris afterward.”

“Serving the bridal feast with the funeral meats son?” his mother inquired wryly.

Mike nodded. “Alec, before you and Bethany got married, I had planned to make Red Courteen Segundo. If you want to formalize that with him, he can handle the clean up here while you hunt for Hennessy.”

“He’s a good man,” Alec said. “I’ll speak to him in the morning. The three of us can leave for town after the wedding. Carlos and Iris can leave for the mine the next morning.”

“No, make that five of us who are going into town,” Giselle said. ” I intend to visit some old friends to see what kind of information I can pick up about Hennessey and Lutz. Furthermore, Alec you should take Henry with you to watch your back when you search Hennessey’s house. ”

“None of us should go anywhere alone,” Iris objected.

“Very well,” her grandmother responded. “Bethany and I will go visiting some old friends.”

 

 

It’s Friday when I post the next chapter in my serials. I also decided that Friday would be the day I choose to pay it forward to other independent authors by sharing their books on my timeline. Please keep in mind that I haven’t read most of these books. Please check them out for yourself.

Gail

WIN A FREE BOOK!

CONTEST–WIN A FREE BOOK WITH CORRECT ANSWER!

It constantly amazes me how territorial writers and artists can be over others using similar settings or characters to ones they used in their books or a painting. While copyright infringement does exist, its been my experience, that any group of writers or artists can be given the exact same setting, charactors, etc, and in the end as soon as their creative muse kicks in, they will produce significantly different products!

This is not copyright infringement folks, its creative license! This happens because no two writers or artists have the same creative vision. As an example, two of my favorite witch series have several things in common (see the clues on the flow chart below). However, both of these authors have taken the basic premise and created two vastly different original series, and followed up by taking their characters and plots in completely different directions.

To prove my premise, I’m going to challenge you to identify the series and the authors I am refering to. The first 20 people who identify them both correctly, will get a free copy of my newest book (Warriors of St. Antoni). To enter, fill out the form below and return it with your answers. REMEMBER YOU MUST COMPLETE THE FORM BELOW AND CORRECTLY IDENTIFY BOTH SERIES & AUTHORS! CONTEST ENDS OCTOBER 1, 2017

YOUR NAME:

ADDRESS:

E-MAIL:

SERIES 1     AUTHOR                                 SERIES TITLE

SERIES 2     AUTHOR                                 SERIES TITLE

YES! PLEASE ADD ME TO THE LIST TO RECEIVE ADVANCE NOTICE OF YOUR NEXT BOOKS! (name, email & address information will not be used for any other purpose than that stated.)

NO, I DON’T WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE LIST, BUT I STILL WANT TO ENTER.

Send completed entries to gailsart1927@gaildaleysfineart.com

ENTRIES WITHOUT A COMPLETELY FILLED OUT ENTRY FORM WILL BE DISQUALIFIED

Contest ends October 1, 2017

CLUES

SETTING:

  • Financially struggling small town, semi isolated from large cities.
  • The town periodically has events to draw outsiders into it to increase it’s revenue base.
  • Area has a significant history of weird or mysterous happings that goes back hundreds of years.

CHARACTORS:

  • A family of three generations of witches (or paranormally gifted individuals) lives on the edge of the town.
  • The family has lived in the the area for many generations.
    • One elderly member
    • Three middle-aged members
    • Three adult members of the next generation

 

 

 

Plots & Schemes – Warriors of St. Antoni

This 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. 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.

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 Plots & Schemes

 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/GailDaleyWriter/

 

JOHNSON WENT out to the bunkhouse where he found his range crew idly playing a hand of cards. “Why aren’t you men out working?” he demanded.

Jones, a short thin man with a wispy mustache, looked up from his cards. “We ain’t had no orders to do anything, boss.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t my son give you orders this morning?”

“We ain’t seen Sam in more than a week,” volunteered Tom Wright.

“Where did he go?”

Jones shrugged, pushing two chips into the center of the table. “I call,” he said. “If you mean Sam, he packed up stuff and took off more than a week ago,” he said.

“If you mean Emory, he’s been drunk since he got here,” Larry volunteered.

“Yeah,” complained Bert Johns, “He got fresh with the cook and she and her family up and left. We ain’t had any decent food since.”

“I’ll take care of the cook,” Johnson said. “You men get out to the south pasture and check on the herd.”

He turned and went into the house. Samuel’s room was bare. The bed was made up and the room tidy, but everything Samuel owned was gone.

When he went out to the tricorn corral, he saw that Samuel’s favorite mount was gone. Returning to the house, he sat down at the table and stared at the place where his middle son usually sat. Ira Johnson sat there for some time before he noticed the folded paper on the mantle.

“Dear Pa,” it read. “I’m sorry to leave this way without saying goodbye, but it has now become necessary. Please don’t look for me. I expect nothing from you, and I wish you and Emory luck in making the J-4 into a prosperous ranch.

Your son, Samuel

  1. s. Stay away from St. Vyr and his womenfolk.”

Samuel was gone. He had left his family. Ira was furious. He kicked the table across the room and followed it up with the chairs.

“What’s all that racket?” The noise of the breaking table and chairs roused Emory, and he staggered into the doorway, holding onto the jamb to keep from falling over.

“You stupid worthless drunk!” Ira roared. He backhanded his son and Emory went down on his butt. Instead of getting up, he lay there snoring.

Breathing hard, his father stared at him in impotent fury. Going to the sink, Ira pumped a bucket of water and sloshed it over his son, following it up with a kick.

Emory rolled over on his stomach and puked. Getting another bucket, Johnson slopped it over the mess Emory had created. Grabbing his son by the collar and his belt, he hauled him outside to the water trough and dunked him in it until he was convinced Emory was too drunk to be sobered up and would have to sleep it off. He left him lying there in the dirt and went into the house to get rid of any liquor he found.

When Emory sobered up several days later, Johnson had located another cook for the men and put them back to work. Emory staggered into the kitchen and fell into a chair. Johnson put a cup of coffee in front of him and waited until he had drunk it before slapping cold biscuits leftover from breakfast in front of his son.

Emory looked at the biscuits with disgust. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast. You may as well know your brother is gone.”

Emory blinked. “My head hurts. Did you say Samuel is gone? Where did he go?”

“He didn’t say. That means it’s up to you and me to make the plan work.”

His son broke off a piece of the cold biscuit and chewed it. “What do you mean Pa?”

“You’re going to marry St. Vyr’s girl.”

“She’s already married,” Emory pointed out, “and the other one is about to be.”

“So? We make her a widow.”

“Pa, I don’t think I’m fast enough to beat McCaffey to the draw.”

“You ain’t going to face him in a gunfight. I got that part covered. You will go over to St. Vyr’s spread, grab the girl and bring her back here.”

Emory sipped his coffee in silence, considering the order. Finally, he said, “Won’t work Pa. Too many people around. What if she screams? I can’t keep her quiet and fight off the hands at the same time. Say I get her away from the ranch, even if he’s crippled, St. Vyr can still send his hands after us, and it ain’t like she’s some whore out of a pleasure house we drug up here. She’s a respectable married woman. Even some of our own men would turn on us for kidnapping her.”

Ira sat back. “Well if you’re too yellow to do it…”

His son flushed red and lunged to his feet. “You take that back! That’s a lie!”

“Glad to see that beating didn’t take all the sand out of you,” his father said coolly. “Sit back down and listen. We’re going to set fire to St. Vyr’s pastures near the house. It’s been a dry year and that grass will go up like tinder. That will draw almost everyone to fight the fire. In the confusion, it shouldn’t be too hard to grab the girl; if she screams, it’s likely everyone will just think it’s got to do with the fire.”

“Okay, Pa.”

“Go take a bath. You stink. And stay away from the cook and her daughters. Save it to use on Bethany St. Vyr.”

Johnson was out of town, so he didn’t get the news that the first part of his plan had already failed. Martin Chamber was one of the bodies shown to Tim Gonzales, the town Sheriff who rode out to the ranch with the doctor and Paco. By this time, the St. Vyr’s had quite a collection of corpses to turn over to him.

The sheriff eyed the stiffs being piled into a buckboard for him to take back to town with disfavor. “Hell,” he said, “I don’t want them. Just bury them out here and charge the town for it. I’ll take any papers and money to hold for their next of kin, but that’s all I want besides your signed statements about what happened.”

“Certainly, Sheriff,” Giselle agreed. “You can use my parlor to take witness statements.”

After setting Gonzales up with a table, writing paper and some coffee, she went upstairs to check on the doctor’s progress.

“Well, Garth, how is our patient?” she inquired.

The Doctor, a portly man in his forties, looked up from taking Carlos’ pulse and smiled at her. “An excellent job, Giselle. I wish I had you as a nurse more often.”

She laughed. “Shame on you! What would your wife say?”

He laughed too. “Skin me, probably.”

“If you are through talking about me as if I’m not here,” Carlos interjected irritably, “When can I get out of this bed?”

Doctor Ruggles grinned at him. “Son, I thought the idea was for you to get into Miss Iris’s bed.”

Carlos glared at him. “You are hilarious. The idea is for us to get married. I can’t do that flat on my back.”

“Actually, you can get up now. I’d put off any marital gymnastics until your shoulder heals a little more though.”

“I want my clothes,” Carlos told Giselle.

“Over there on the chair,” she replied.

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee Garth before you start back?”

“I’d love one,” the doctor replied, following her out of the room.

Alec looked for Bethany and found her out in the stables, checking on her prize racers.

“You both did just fine,” she told Tessa and Paco. “They are in great shape.”

“Does this mean I can ride Stinger in next month’s races?” Paco asked eagerly.

Bethany nodded. “I spoke to your mother, and she agreed to allow it, so yes you can ride him.”

“What about me?” inquired Tessa.

“You will be up on Glory for the sprints,” Bethany said. “As of today, both of you will be spending a lot of time with my racers, so you are excused from any other duties around the house and barns.”

Tessa gave her a big smile.

“They act like you gave them a gift instead of a prescription for work,” Alec said.

She smiled at him. “Yes, they do, don’t they?”

“We need to talk, honey,” he said.

A little wariness came into her eyes. “About what?”

“It’s time to take the fight to the Johnsons,” he said. “So far, all we’ve done is make defensive moves. That won’t end the war.”

She leaned against him. “What do you want to do?”

“I intend to ask Carlos to go into Junction City and file a complaint with the District Court so we can get it legally on record that Johnson has attacked us twice.”

“Does that mean you are turning the fight over to the Marshals?”

“No, it just gives me cover when I take Johnson and his son down.”

She looked troubled. “What about Samuel?”

“As far as I know, he’s out of it. From what Giselle says, he left without intending to return.”

“He’s Jeanne’s husband now. I don’t want a rift in the family.”

He dropped a kiss on her brow. “I know you don’t. I won’t fight Samuel if I can help it. This is the way it has to be though.”

“Have you told Papa?”

He nodded. “We talked about it this morning before Gonzalez got here.”

“I see. You will be careful, won’t you?”

“Worried about me?”

“Oh, I know you can beat them in a fair fight, but they don’t fight fairly—”

Tessa came running back in the stable, followed by Paco. “The pasture is on fire!”

Bethany grabbed her arm. “Get up to the cupola and ring the bell.

“Paco, take a tricorn and open the pasture gates. Try to herd the goats toward the river. Go! Alec, open the stall doors in here. I will open the back doors.”

“Wait,” he said. “We need to keep enough saddled here to run if the fire gets away from us.

Bethany went to the tack room and dragged out saddles. Quickly she and Alec readied all the tricorns in the barn and led them into the courtyard.

Iris’s goats came running through and she opened the rear barn doors to let them out, ducking back inside the barn when Paco, who was screeching like a mad thing rode by.

She saw that Alec had organized the men to dig a firebreak between the house and the burning grass. Bethany headed to the house leading her father’s saddled tricorn. Unable to move, Michael St. Vyr would be trapped in the house if it burned.

Inside the house, Iris was handing out buckets and pails, instructing everyone to pour water down the house walls. Margo and Giselle were packing food and blankets into the buckboard in case they needed to make a run for town.

“Where’s Papa?” she asked Giselle.

“I told Stevens to help him out to the courtyard,” her grandmother replied.

“They aren’t there. I’m going to check his room.”

She nearly tripped over Stevens prone body when she entered her father’s room. Looking down, she saw that Stevens head was bleeding, bending to check on him, she realized that Michael was struggling with Emory Johnson over a knife.

“Leave him alone!” Bethany shouted. Jumping up, she grabbed Johnson’s knife arm, but he shrugged her off with a blow that sent her to the floor.

Screaming for her Grandmother to come and help, Bethany tried again to pull Johnson off her father. This time she saw stars when he hit her. Falling back against the bed, she banged against Michael’s holster hanging over the bedpost. She took a second to realize what had hit her. Grabbing the gun from the holster, she cocked it and pulled the trigger. There was a double boom in the small room as Bethany and another gun both fired.

A bloom of red exploded in Johnson’s back. He fell forward, still clutching the knife which cut a deep slash in Michael’s leg, before he slumped the rest of the way to the floor.

“Papa!” Iris shoved Carlos out of the doorway and ran to the bed. “He’s been cut. Bethany! Snap out of it! Get me a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.”

“Here,” Carlos handed her his neck bandanna, which she quickly wrapped around Michael’s bleeding leg and tied over the slash.

“It needs stitched,” she said.

“I’ll get Gran,” Bethany said.

She returned a few minutes later with Giselle who carried her first aid kit. Giselle shoved Emory Johnson with her foot. “Get this mess out of here. Carlos, see if Stevens is alive.”

Giselle took scissors and cut her son’s pant leg so she could reach his flesh. She cleaned the wound with an iodine mixture she made herself and then directed Iris to hold the edges of the skin together while she made her stitches in the wound, finishing by wrapping the wound tightly with linen strips.

Michael had lain there in tightlipped silence while his mother worked.

“What happened Mike? How did he get in here?” Carlos asked.

“He must have already been in the house. He followed Stevens when he came in hollering about fire and saying I needed to move out to the courtyard. Next thing I knew this Johnson whelp hit him over the head with the fire iron. He came at me with a knife when I reached for my pistol to shoot him. What is this about a fire?”

“The south pasture is on fire,” Bethany said. Alec hitched up two plow tricorns, and he’s got men taking turns plowing a firebreak between the house and orchards and the fire.”

“C’mon Mike, let’s get you out to the courtyard,” Carlos said. He went to the bed and slung the older man’s arm over his shoulder, grabbing him by his belt with his other hand. Iris came up on her father’s other side and helped steady him as Carlos took him outside.

“Is Doctor Ruggles still here?” Bethany asked Margo.

“Yes, I think he set up in the parlor to tend burns people will get from fighting the fire,” she replied. “Gonzales is out with the others fighting the fire. If you are going out there, take a wet bandana and wrap it around your face.”

Bethany nodded. Tying the bandana around her face, it occurred to her that the fire might not have been an accident, so she went to the gun cabinet and loaded her favorite pistol. Buckling on a holster to carry it.

She filled a bucket with water and grabbed as many bandanas as she could carry out of the cupboard in the hallway on her way to find Gonzales and tell him there was another body.

Outside the front door was beldam. As Bethany stood on the steps searching for Gonzales, she saw Ira Johnson as he dismounted from his tricorn. She set down the bucket and drew her pistol, keeping it hidden along her leg as she waited for him to come up to her.

When he was about five feet away, she raised the gun. “If you are looking for your son, his body is inside.”

Johnson checked his approach. “His body?” he repeated.

“Yes. I killed him. Can I assume it was you who set this fire?”

He stared at her, noticing for the first time how much she looked like her father. St. Vyr’s cold gray eyes stared back at him above her hard-set mouth in her pretty face. “You killed him? You?”

“That’s right. Do you want his body, or shall I just turn it over to the sheriff with the others?”

“What others?”

“Oh, the sniper you hired to kill my husband? He’s dead too. Alec took care of him. Carlos took care of the men who were robbing the miners. Now, if you want to claim your son’s body, you will have to wait until the sheriff has seen it.”

“You mean you’ve got another one?” Gonzales had come up while they talked and now stood at the base of the steps listening.

“I’m afraid so, sheriff. He is inside in my father’s room. I shot him when he was trying to knife Papa.”

“By the way, Johnson here probably started the fire. I don’t know if you can arrest him for that, but—”

“I want my son’s body returned!” Johnson said, turning to face the sheriff. “He stayed drunk for a week after she threw him over for that gunfighter. Today I found he’d headed over here, and I followed him. I didn’t set any damn fire!”

“Now why do I think that is a damn lie?” inquired Carlos. He shut the door behind him and stood looking down at Johnson, his hands resting on his hips, close to his holstered gun.

“Probably for the same reason I do,” answered Alec who had followed Gonzales to the house.

Gonzales looked uneasily from one young man to the other. He had been a sheriff too long not to recognize bad trouble brewing when he saw it.   He decided the safest path would be to answer Bethany. “I’m sorry Mrs. McCaffey, but unless you have some proof, like a witness, I can’t arrest Johnson for starting that fire.”

“Maybe you can’t arrest, him Gonzales,” Alec said implacably, “but I can damn well issue a warning. Don’t come back here again, Johnson. I’m issuing orders to shoot on sight if you, or any of your riders’ come onto the Golden Tricorn.”

“And I will double that for the Lucky Strike,” added Carlos.

Johnson glared at them. “Yeah? From what Lutz tells me you won’t own either of them for long. I may just come along when he forecloses. I want to see it.” He turned to Gonzales, “I want my son’s body brought out to the J-4 when you are done with it.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Gonzales assured him. As he walked back to his tricorn, mounted and rode away.

Carlos turned to look at Bethany, “What the hell is he talking about? How could Lutz foreclose? We don’t have any loans. Did Mike sign a loan without telling me?”

She shook her head. “Not as far as I know.”

Alec turned to his wife. “We think we have the fire contained. We plowed a circle around it, and right now it’s burning itself out. Let’s go talk to Mike about Lutz.”