Fresh Book Friday: The Apple Pie Prize

It's Fresh Book Friday again, and I have a little something for you, a short story!

Title: The Apple Pie Prize: An Owen Family Story
Author: Marsha Ward
Genre: Historical Romance
Published: December 28, 2017
Price: $0.99

Purchase Links: Kindle | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore | Smashwords

Description:
No one in Shenandoah County would say Rod Owen lacked vigor.

The evidence is clear, with six young’uns running around the farm and his wife Julia about to call in the midwife again.

A pie crust and a small boy with a sack of dead squirrels can be vexing impediments when such a man wants a little kissin' in the kitchen.

The Apple Pie Prize is a short story packed with insights into early times at the Owen Family farm.

Author Bio:
Author Marsha Ward writes authentic historical fiction set in 19th Century America, and contemporary romance. She was born in the sleepy little town of Phoenix, Arizona, in a simpler time. With plenty of room to roam among the chickens and citrus trees, Marsha enjoyed playing with neighborhood chums, but always had her imaginary friend, cowboy Johnny Rigger Prescott, at her side. Now she makes her home in a forest in the mountains of Arizona. She loves to hear from her readers.

Connect with Marsha:
Website: http://marshaward.com
Blog: http://marshaward.blogspot.com
Email: marshaw@marshaward.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormarshaward
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarshaWard

Join Marsha’s mailing list for a free book, special offers, and new releases: http://eepurl.com/vBKEj

Have you picked up your copy of Mended by Moonlight yet? This Shenandoah Neighbors Novella is the perfect book to read after Gone for a Soldier, as it gives a character from that novel a happy conclusion to her story.

Purchase Mended by Moonlight: A Shenandoah Neighbors Novella
E-Book: Smashwords (all formats) | Kindle | NOOK | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore

Fresh Book Friday - Scandalous: An Owen Family Story

It's Fresh Book Friday again, and I have another story to share with you!

Title: Scandalous: An Owen Family Story
Author: Marsha Ward
Genre: Historical Fiction, Coming of Age story
Publisher: WestWard Books
Date Published: September 8, 2017
Price: $2.99, Free for kindleunlimited subscribers

Purchase Link: Kindle 

Book Description:
Young Julianna Owen didn't think flirting with Parley Morgan at the barn raising would lead him to put his hands where they ought not to be. But worse yet, her sister discovers them and Parley abandons her, running off into the woods.

Julianna's strict father has found where she is hiding, and her world on the Colorado frontier is crashing down around her ears. She thought love and romance was only about going on picnics and holding hands, not rough kisses and hurtful pawing.

Now the consequences of her actions might be beyond what she can bear.

In the 1860s Owen Family universe, Scandalous shines a light on teen hormones run amok during a trying time in the family's story, as it ties up a loose thread from the novel, Spinster's Folly.

This edition contains bonus material at the end, an excerpt from the Shenandoah Neighbors story, Bloodied Leather.

Author Bio:
Author Marsha Ward writes authentic historical fiction set in 19th Century America, and contemporary romance. She was born in the sleepy little town of Phoenix, Arizona, in a simpler time. With plenty of room to roam among the chickens and citrus trees, Marsha enjoyed playing with neighborhood chums, but always had her imaginary friend, cowboy Johnny Rigger Prescott, at her side. Now she makes her home in a forest in the mountains of Arizona. She loves to hear from her readers.

Connect with Marsha:
Website: http://marshaward.com
Blog: http://marshaward.blogspot.com
Email: marshaw@marshaward.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormarshaward
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarshaWard

Join Marsha’s mailing list for a free book, special offers, and new releases: http://eepurl.com/vBKEj

Sample Saturday: Cover Reveal - Bloodied Leather

How exciting it is to reveal the cover of my short story, Bloodied Leather! This story, the first of the "Shenandoah Neighbors" line of works to see the light of day, will be published as an ebook next Friday, August 18.

Bloodied Leather vaults over a lot of years and other Owen-verse stories (coming later). It's set in San Francisco in 1886. Here's the description:

Isabelle Gilbert chafes against the restrictions that Victorian life puts on a young lady.

Forced to accept a betrothal to Percival Egmont, an English ex-patriot like her father, she is disturbed by his passion for prize-fighting—and other pursuits. And what if Mama spots the bruise on her cheek?

Then shared secrets perplex Isabelle even more.

A “Shenandoah Neighbors” story that extends the Owen Family universe, Bloodied Leather opens a new era for this popular family saga.

Bloodied Leather will be published in a collection in 2018, which will be available in print as well as in ebook formats.
 

~~~~~

Have you read my latest novella, That Tender Light, yet? It's the wonderfully romantic origin story of how Rod Owen and Julia Helm met. Free at online retailers like Barnes and Noble, Kobo, iBooks/iTunes, and Smashwords. Only $0.99 at Amazon.

I always welcome your reviews. Thank you!

Sample Saturday - Trail's End

Welcome to Sample Saturday. Today I'm going to do something a little different: I'm going to post a complete piece. It's short—fewer than 500 words—so you won't be overwhelmed in reading it. Enjoy!
~~~

Trail's End

She heard his spurs jingle in the darkness as he came into the room where she lay, and she opened her eyes, but with no moon or starlight broaching her draped window, she did not expect to see him. Nevertheless, she knew her husband by the odors he brought with him into the room: the musty smell of dust, the pungence of sweat and leather, the hint of tobacco.

A match flared, and he lit the candle on the washstand. Its sputtering flicker lighted the angles and planes of his face, his eyes shaded by the wide brimmed hat he hardly ever removed.

Then he unbuckled the gun belt, and coming between her and the light, he fastened it around the near bedpost. His silhouette stretched long and lean as he paused for a moment, then turned, sat on the bed, and pulled off his boots. They hit the wooden floor, one at a time, with the combined music of bell and drum, then he stood once more and crossed the room to the window.

She supposed he changed his mind about looking out, for he turned before touching the drape, and removed his vest. He moved lazily across the room and hung it on a peg, then he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tail free from his jeans, slid the sleeves from his arms, and hung the shirt over the vest.

The candlelight reflecting off his chest seemed to light a glow within her, and she wondered if he was really taking as long as it seemed. Her eyes flicked up to his face and caught his half smile, almost sardonic.

Then he bent over and blew out the light. She heard his jeans fall to the floor as he threw them over his boots, and he was beside her; his warmth and his smell and his strength were there for her to love.

She put out her hand and took the hat from his head. As she placed it on the bedpost over his gun belt she whispered, “First thing on and last thing off, but you don’t wear it in our bed!”

Copyright 1990 Marsha Ward
~~~

A piece this short is oftentimes called "flash fiction." Have you read, or written, any flash fiction? If you've published any, where can we find it?

Sample Saturday - Faith and the Foreman

Did you see last week's Cover Reveal? No? Fear not, here it is:

You've met Faith and you've met Slim. They both face challenges in their lives, they live in vastly different universes, and they aren't living in any proximity to each other. How are they to meet?

Here's a clue, before next week's release on Friday, July 15th, to online ebook vendors:
~~~

A day later, Faith gasped, tightening her fingers on the day’s newspaper. She looked toward Clarissa, her anxiety seeping away.

“I like that bright light in your eye,” Clarissa said.

“I have a better plan than nursing school.” Faith rose and took the Times to Clarissa.

Her cousin looked up from her needles. Three new white bandages lay rolled beside her on the sofa.

“Look.” Faith showed her the newspaper page. “Here’s an advertisement seeking a school teacher in the West for ten months. The school board will pay transportation costs, provide a living space, groceries, firewood, and they’ll pay a salary besides. I can teach mathematics and reading and writing and... even stitchery! Once I sell the house, the proceeds and a teaching post will provide income sufficient for us both.”

“Hmm. Teaching will suit you better than nursing.” Clarissa resumed her knitting. “How do you win the position?”

Faith crimped the newspaper between her hands. “I must send a telegram immediately to the president of the school board in this town of—” She looked at the advertisement again. “Bitter Springs, Arizona Territory. This will solve our difficulties.”

“You must hurry so your answer to the advertisement arrives ahead of any others.”

“Yes.” Faith hurried to compose a brief message with a list of her academic accomplishments and prepared to go to the telegraph office. “That should serve. Let’s pray I’m the most worthy applicant.”
~~~

While you're waiting for next Friday's release of Faith and the Foreman, be sure to pick up and read a copy of my latest novel, The Zion Trail:

The Zion Trail

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
Ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store  

Print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

If you haven't read it yet, here are purchase links for my last novella, Blood at Haught Springs. I encourage you to read it. Take note that it's the first in a new series, Men of Haught Springs.

Available as an Ebook only
$2.99 at the following online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore

~~~

Please remember that in this new world of publishing, YOUR reviews are vital to authors. Go post a review on any of my books, novellas, or short stories you have read. They don't have to be long. You only need to express what you thought about the work, and perhaps why. Did you like the characters? Did the history of the period excite you? Was the story enjoyable? Would you recommend the work to your friends? Writing a review is your chance to do just that.

Thank you!

Sample Saturday - Faith and the Foreman

Today, not only do you get a scene from this touching novella that's going to be released on July 15, but a cover reveal, as well! I give you Faith and the Foreman...
~~~

“Slim! Slim McHenry!”

When Amos Ramsey bellowed his name, Slim changed direction from going toward the bunkhouse to heading for the boss. What did he do to make Mr. Ramsey so angry? He couldn’t recall any slip-up today. “Yes, sir?” he said, hoping he still had a job.

“Dan Crowley is leaving. After ten years!” Amos glowered at Slim. “His wife claims he’s too busted up to cowboy anymore. She’s taking him off to Tucson.”

“That’s bad news, boss. He’s a good foreman.”

“You’re takin’ his place. Ask Dan what to do.”

Mr. Ramsey walked off, leaving Slim with his jaw hanging open. Foreman! He wants me to be foreman? He whistled in surprise, struck by the man’s abrupt manner. Usually Ol’ Amos enjoyed conversing with his cowhands, but not tonight. Could be he’s upset about Dan quitting, but he could’ve been more forthcoming with the details of the job. He hoped Hoosier Dan was of a mind to enlighten him.

Slim started toward the foreman’s little bungalow in back of the main house. If Dan wasn’t at supper, Mrs. Crowley would know where he was.

Dan was sitting down to eat, but he took time to shake Slim’s hand and give him a rundown on his new responsibilities.

Half an hour later, Slim left, his head swimming and his hand sore from Dan’s enthusiastic congratulations. Each night I check with Ol’ Amos about the next day’s work, then parcel out the tasks in the morning. I fancy I’m up to the job. Maybe. Before trepidation took over, he went to eat his own supper, wondering how the cowhands would receive the news.

He supposed he could count on Curly Price to offer congratulations. He and Curly had ridden together for several years and were good friends. Baldy Babbitt would most likely put on a pout, but he wouldn’t want the job either. Too much responsibility.

Slim decided none of the other hands would give him more than occasional grief and sass, except Rance Hunter. He snorted. Hunter was a difficult case, prickly as could be. He was the boss’s stepson, but there was no love lost between them.

Slim paused to slap the horseshoe hung over the bunkhouse door before he entered to eat. He would need all the luck he could get.
~~~

Have you purchased your copy of Blood at Haught Springs yet?

Did you review it on Amazon?

Here are the purchase links.
$2.99 at the following online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore

Thanks! See you next week.

Sample Saturday - Faith and the Foreman

A long time ago, I started a novel that I called Slim and the Schoolmarm. Somewhere along the way, I was persuaded to write a synopsis of the book for a contest. That was fatal to the novel: my brain told me I had written the story, and I couldn't get it started again.

Fast forward many years. I received an invitation to contribute a novella to a collection. I brushed off Slim and the Schoolmarm, changed the name to Faith and the Foreman, started the story all over again, and turned it into the novella that I had contracted to write.

Faith and the Foreman was published two years ago in the Old West Collection, volume nine of the series from Mirror Press entitled A Timeless Romance Anthology. Now it's time to publish it as a stand alone short. Look for it later this summer.
~~~

A bell jangled on the horse-drawn street car outside as Faith Bannister folded the letter she’d been reading and rose to pace the room. After two circuits, she stopped before her cousin. “I am ruined.”

Clarissa Pembroke looked up from the bandage she was knitting and shook her head. “The news can’t be all that bad, dear. We’ve managed to survive the bank crisis fairly well thus far.”

Faith waved the letter. “The interest on my stocks is practically zero.”

“You should have told me, Faith. I must try harder to find employment.” Clarissa breathed heavily. “I can’t believe my usefulness as a nurse is over because of a few gray hairs.” She straightened her back as though in denial of aging. “I’m going to a lecture tonight to keep up with advancing science. Doctor Harley will speak on treating poisons.”

“You shouldn’t have to support me, Clarissa. I’ll sell the house to that fat banker who lusts after it.”

“Faith! Mind your language.”

“He’s wanted it ever since Poppa and Mama got killed.” She bit a fingernail, then removed her finger from her teeth at Clarissa’s continuing reproachful look. “I know. Mama tried so hard to break me of that.” She brushed a blonde curl away from her misting eye and whispered, “Stocks and bonds are no replacement for one’s family. I’m most grateful for your companionship.”

Clarissa wiped her own tearing eyes.

Faith turned away. “Perhaps I can enter the nursing school at Bellevue Hospital. Mr. Spencer offered a price sufficient to pay tuition and allow me to rent an apartment.” She shrugged. “I’ll have to let the servants go. If it appears I don’t have time to train as a nurse before we’re destitute, I’ll become a governess or a shop clerk.”

Clarissa shook herself as though to restore a cheerful outlook. “Let’s not fret about finances now, dear. Come with me tonight and enjoy the lecture.” She held up her knitting. “This bandage will be finished by then, and I’ll have another eleven for the good doctor.”
~~~

Have you purchased your copy of Blood at Haught Springs yet?

Here are the purchase links.
$2.99 at the following online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore

Behind the Scenes - Blood at Haught Springs

Today, instead of Sample Saturday, I'm going to go Behind the Scenes of my latest work, Blood at Haught Springs.

I've been asked a couple of questions about this new novella quite a bit, so I thought I'd answer them. The first question is, "Is there a real town called Haught Springs in Texas?"

The answer is, "There could be, but to my knowledge, there isn't."

The second question is, "How did you find the name Haught for your characters?"

The answer to this second question is longer than the first, and there's an uncanny story Behind the Scenes.

When I began writing what became Blood at Haught Springs, I needed names for my characters. I decided to make use of one old writer's secret and go through my phone book for intriguing names. I wrote several down, and when I'd finished the novella, the main characters carried the surname Haught.

Now, Haught is a well-known and respected name in these parts. In fact, I know several people who have that name. However, I did not use any of their traits or characteristics for my characters. I never do that, to the best of my ability.

I liked the ring of the name Haught. I also liked the fact that it sounds like "hot." Who doesn't like "hot" cowboys, ranchers, millers, or storekeepers? I know a lot of readers who do.

Thus it was that I created Haught Springs, Texas, located somewhere on the Texas Panhandle. Maybe west of Amarillo. Maybe a bit east. I'm not telling.

But there's more to the story.

After I released Blood at Haught Springs, Number 1 of the new series, Men of Haught Springs, I learned that the Haught family of Gila County, Arizona, came from Texas. Who could have guessed that? [cue music to Twilight Zone]

Come back next Saturday to see what I spring on you then.
~~~

Two bonus short stories are included with Blood at Haught Springs: Cottonwood Cowboys and No More Strangers. The novella kicks off a new series set in Haught Springs, Texas, a rowdy frontier town bursting at the seams with action, adventure, and intrigue. Join me in a new world of hard-working, rough and tumble men who sometimes aren't exactly who or what they seem to be.

Blood at Haught Springs is now available for $2.99
in ebook formats at all the major online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Kobo | Nook | Apple iTunes Bookstore

Sample Saturday - Blood at Haught Springs

Hello! Before I get into today's Sample, I'll let you gaze at the 2015 Whitney Lifetime Achievement Award that now sits on my mantelpiece.

It's heavy! My friend, who accepted the award in my place, had troubles getting it through the TSA because, you know, it's a pointy object. LOL!

Okay, now on to today's Sample from Blood at Haught Springs, which I released yesterday in ebook formats. Lonnie Haught is feeling pretty good. He just got a promising job with a newcomer to Haught Springs.
~~~

Lonnie strolled into the store using the front door, a smile on his lips and satisfaction warming his soul. Even though the bell still jangled behind him, Wes was too preoccupied in tending to a customer to glance up and notice who had come in.

Lonnie’s smile broadened. Wes may have got a jump on him with the leases, but Lonnie would have the last laugh. I’ve got a paying job now. No more depending on Wes for pocket change.

He coughed slightly to make sure Wes looked up and saw him before he sauntered into the back room. He could feel Wes’s glare boring a hole between his shoulder blades, but it didn’t matter anymore. I’ve got a job, a good job. Mr. Badger said it would be worth my while.

He grinned as he lifted his gun belt and holstered pistol down from the nail where he had left them hanging yesterday, and strapped on the rig. Knees slightly bent, he pulled the pistol quickly from the holster. He had to remember not to lock his knees in excitement. He might need to move after a bit of gunplay. He grinned again. Mr. Badger had said he’d probably have a task for him on Monday morning. Maybe he’s got an enemy to put down. Such a nice thought. Gunfighters make top money.

Lonnie tried his quick draw again, then checked the cartridges in the chambers and replaced the pistol in the holster. Straightening up from the task, he took in a deep breath. I’m a bodyguard. Probably a gunfighter, too. Wes can’t say that. He’s only a storekeeper.

Lonnie dusted off a speck of lint that had fallen onto his trousers, and looked out the door. Evidently, Wes had filled the customer’s order and taken it out to her wagon, because now he was hunkered down over paperwork. I’ll never have to do paperwork again. As far as I’m concerned, the old man can give Wes the entire lousy business, lock, stock, and barrel. I’m working for a big man, now.
~~~

Two bonus short stories are included with Blood at Haught Springs: Cottonwood Cowboys and No More Strangers. The novella kicks off a new series set in Haught Springs, Texas, a rowdy frontier town bursting at the seams with action, adventure, and intrigue. Join me in a new world of hard-working, rough and tumble men who sometimes aren't exactly who or what they seem to be.

Blood at Haught Springs is available for $2.99
in ebook formats at the following online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Kobo
It will soon be available at the Nook and Apple iTunes bookstores, as well.

Sample Saturday: Cover Reveal - Blood at Haught Springs

I'm excited to reveal the cover of my new novella, Blood at Haught Springs, which will be released as an ebook next Friday, May 27.

This ebook edition contains two short stories, as well: Cottonwood Cowboys, and No More Strangers.

As you can tell by looking at the cover, I plan more stories featuring men from Haught Springs, a fictional town in Texas, and the surrounding area.

~~~

Have you picked up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail?
After you read it, please post a review at Amazon.

Thank you!

The Zion Trail

 $3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store 

print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

 

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Springs

Welcome to Sample Saturday! A new, prosperous-looking customer has walked through the door of Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium, and Wesley Haught has turned to be of service. He's had a busy morning, and his mood has been soured from an encounter with his younger brother, but now perhaps things were looking up.. 

This tidbit is from my forthcoming novella, Blood at Haught Springs.
~~~

Wes scraped up a smile for the new customer. “I'm sorry for the wait, sir. I'm Wesley Haught. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Ferrell Badger. I was informed that this is the place to lease property in town. Is that correct?” The man's voice held a no-nonsense note.

Wes's smile broadened. I thought that suit meant money. “Yes, sir. Haught Enterprises handles such transactions. I'm at your service.” He wouldn't bother calling Lonnie to take on the job like he was supposed to do, since he'd been acting like a jerk this morning. It would serve him right if Wes brought in the business instead. Maybe Dad will spare me a little praise, for once.

“I was given the name of Grove Haught.” The man pursed his lips. “Is he here?”

“He's my father,” Wes replied. He shook his head. “He's home mending from a broken leg.” Dad's injuries were somewhat more serious than merely a broken leg, but the stranger didn't need to know that. “I can help you, sir.” Much better than Lonnie can. “Does this concern a house?” He hoped it did. His glance shifted briefly to the girl, who was presently occupied in inspecting a bolt of lavender-colored cloth, feeling the texture of the fabric as she ran her fingers over the surface.

When Mr. Badger made a sound, Wes pulled his attention back to the man.

“A house, yes, but also a building. I noticed the brick structure at the corner appears to be vacant.”

Wes felt his pulse quicken. Two leases! “Ah. That was the bank, but the crisis a few . . .” His words trailed off as he realized he wasn't putting the town's best foot forward. “Yes, that building is available, Mr. Badger. I can show it to you right away.” I hope Lonnie swept it out this week.

He stooped to rummage for the key in a box beneath the counter, and ran the housing possibilities through his mind. The same financial downturn that had forced Banker Pierce from his business had left his large house empty, as well. The no-nonsense set of Mr. Badger's shoulders, combined with his fine suit, spoke of wealth and privilege. The man wouldn't look twice at the rundown Peterson homestead, but the banker's home was a much grander affair, well suited to a rich gentleman's needs.

Wes remembered the place well. After all, his father had built it for his mother when times had been better. Before she and his little sister had died. Before the pain of living in an empty house had become too overwhelming. Before Dad had sold the mansion to Mr. Pierce.

He straightened, holding two tagged keys in his palm. “We can also lease you a fine house, Mr. Badger. You may have seen it as you drove into town. The large white house beside the river?” He gestured in the direction of the site out of town.

The man seemed to consider his recall of the property for a moment. “That could fit my requirements,” he said, frowning a bit, as though he must inspect every inch to be sure.

“Since we can walk over to the bank building, I'll show you around that first, then I'll hitch up the buggy and take you out to see the house,” Wes said, his eyes wandering toward the daughter. “The young lady might like to give her thoughts on the habitation.” He hoped his voice held the same firm note of confidence that his father's always had as he tended to land and property affairs. Wes very much wanted to make the girl's acquaintance, as soon as he could.

“Yes, I suppose Nina should approve of the house,” Mr. Badger said.

Nina. That was her name. Wes's toes tingled. That hadn't happened over a female since Mary Beth Cockrum threw him over in favor of Calvin Greenwood six months before. Now the sensation had returned. Woo-eee! Nina!
~~~

While you're waiting to see what's next for Wes Haught, I suggest you pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail:

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store
print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Spring 3

Welcome to Haught Sp-- Sample Saturday! In this sample from Blood at Haught Springs, a novella I'll be publishing later this year, Wesley Haught is taking his new clients out to see the house they will be leasing.
~~~

As soon as he could get the buggy hitched, Wes drove it around to the store and halted the horses. He swung down and handed the girl up into the rear seat, although he would have preferred having her beside him. It was the father's place to sit up front, so he could see the house straight away as they approached it. That was more important than Wes being able to make a pitch for the daughter's attention. Even so, his toes tingled slightly.

As Wes drove out of town, he endeavored to make light conversation in order to save his sales push for when Mr. Badger saw the place.

“Have you folks come a long way to reach Haught Springs?”

“Montana,” Mr. Badger replied.

Wes kept quiet, hoping the man would expand on the one-word explanation. When he said no more, Wes asked, “Brutal winters?”

“Very.”

“You'll find the winters to be moderate in our area. You've made a good choice, coming here.”

“My sister, little Annie, couldn't get used to the cold,” Nina said from the back seat. “It made her ill.”

Wes envisioned a small girl shivering in a threadbare coat, like a character in a Dickens story, and then figured that was foolish. This man had enough money to keep his family warm.

He tried again. “What sort of commerce are you in, Mr. Badger? The bank building will need renovations, I imagine.”

“Not so. It suits as it is.”

“It does?”

“I'm opening a bank.”

“Well, that's good news. We could use a bank hereabouts. Business has picked up lately.”

“So I hear.”

And that was as far as the conversation stretched. Wes wondered what his father would have done to prod more responses from Mr. Badger. He hoped Miss Nina was more of a conversationalist. He could scarcely wait to get her alone to find out.

The silence continued as he drove the horses at a sprightly rate down onto the river road, thoughts of the lovely girl behind him filling his mind.

Miss Nina laid a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Is the house much farther? I’m so anxious to see it.”

He swung his head to look toward her, his toes tingling so much he could scarcely respond to her question. “It’s not so much farther on,” he finally managed to say. Her hand lay so softly upon him that he wondered if it was really made of flesh and bones.

“I’m glad. We’ve traveled so far in anticipation of arriving at a good place.”

“Haught Springs is the best place hereabouts to settle, Miss,” he replied. “We have abundant water from the river, and good weather. Your family has made a good choice.”

“Father is quite astute,” she murmured, and patted his shoulder.

He thought he would melt. The skin around her huge blue eyes crinkled a bit as she smiled at him.
~~~

Discount pricing for Read an Ebook Week lasts through tonight, March 12, 2016, at 11:59 p.m. Pacific Time.

Click here to go to my Profile Page at Smashwords.com, where you will find a list of my books and stories.

Use the coupon code RAE25 at checkout for the following discounted items:

The Zion Trail
Gone for a Soldier
The Man from Shenandoah
Ride to Raton
Trail of Storms
Spinster's Folly
Western Stories: Four Tales of the West

The following items are regularly FREE:

The Owen Family Saga Sampler
Thumps and Losers: Two Short Stories
Rapid Recipes for Writers . . . And Other Busy People

Use coupon code RAE25 at checkout.

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Springs 2

Welcome to Sample Saturday! I'm continuing this week with another tidbit from Blood at Haught Springs, a novella I'll be publishing later this year.

Wes Haught has just negotiated not one, but two leases to a newcomer in Haught Springs, a frontier town in west Texas.
~~~

Wes stuck his head into the back room and said, “I have an errand, so I’m leaving you in charge of the store.”  He didn't bother to explain to Lonnie where he was going before he shepherded Mr. Badger and his fascinating daughter toward the door. Let his lazy brother think what he wanted.

He opened the door wide, and Mr. Badger took the lead, stalking out onto the porch. Wes smiled covertly at Miss Nina behind her father's back. She returned the smile with a little arching of her eyebrow, which Wes took to be a good sign.

Showing the building to Mr. Badger seemed to take no time at all, even though Lonnie clearly had ignored the weekly maintenance. As Wes took him through, the man nodded at the features: the railing that divided the customer area from the working space, the teller cages, the banker's office, the back room, and the rear entrance. Mr. Badger agreed to the lease conditions and price without hesitation, and they shook hands on the matter.

“I'll draw up the paperwork and bring it to you at the hotel,” Wes said, exiting the building. “While I put the horses into harness, you and your daughter can sit in the shade of the awning in front of the store. I won't be long.”

Miss Nina lagged slightly behind her father, glancing back over her shoulder and wiggling her fingers in temporary farewell. Wes felt as though she had planted a kiss on his cheek.

After she turned away, he punched the air in elation. Let Lonnie gnash his teeth with rage. If Wes got ahead, it was Lonnie's own fault for being a lazy lout. Dad couldn't quibble over Wes’s management of the business if he pulled off making two leases in one day. He hurried around the block to get the buggy hitched.
~~~

I hope you have purchased your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are the purchase links:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

See you next week! 
 

Sample Saturday - Blood at Haught Springs

Although I hate to leave The Zion Trail behind, I will share a tidbit from a new work that will launch later this year. Here's the description:

Wes Haught wants his brother to grow up and take on his share of the chores at the family's general store. Lonnie Haught dreams of the day he can leave home and use his gun. Both brothers resent the added work their father's recent accident has laid on them.

When a new family arrives in Haught Springs, Wes falls for the fair-haired daughter, while Lonnie seizes upon the father's offer of a job as his chance for escape. But lies unravel and lives hang in the balance as brother fights against brother.

Fiery emotions clash in a new Western adventure from the author of the acclaimed Owen Family Saga.
~~~

Wesley Haught opened a barrel of beans, set the wooden top aside, and prepared to sack up ten pounds for his waiting customer, Mrs. Slonaker. The bell over the door of the store jangled, and he looked up. A tall, bearded man came through the door. Wes was sure he hadn't visited Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium before. Perhaps he was just passing through town. Wes appraised the dark suit the man wore, made of expensive fabric and nicely cut. He must have money. Maybe he’ll spend some of it today. He smiled at the thought.

“Morning,” Wes said. “I'll be with you shortly.”

“Take your time,” the stranger replied, but with a terseness to his voice that indicated he was not in the habit of waiting his turn. He stroked a nicely trimmed yellow beard that had two streaks of gray. His hair—that is, what Wes could see below the man’s bowler hat—was a lighter color of yellow, as though it had faded over the years.

Wes bagged and weighed the beans, then tied the sack closed with a bit of twine. He'd just turned to add the beans to Mrs. Slonaker's order piled on the counter, when the door's bell jangled again as it opened. A rustle of skirts told him he had another female customer.

“Lonnie,” he called over his shoulder into the back room. Lazy lay-about, he thought, his mood turning sour. At nineteen, Lonnie was three years younger than Wes, and he was the worst brother in town. In his mind's eye, he saw Lonnie sitting at the work table, feet propped on the top. Playing with a pistol. As usual. The fact that Dad didn’t seem to see Lonnie’s shiftlessness was like a knife in Wes’s guts.

“Lonnie! Get out here. Folks are lining up.” He hated using a brusque tone of voice in front of customers, but Lonnie wouldn't move unless he thought Wes meant it.

“In a minute,” Lonnie hollered.

From the sounds coming from the back room—the clicks of rotation and soft swishes of metal seating into metal, Wes knew his brother was fitting cartridges into the cylinder of his pistol. “Humph.” Wes turned back in time to see the new arrival close the door, sashay toward the man in the suit, and take his arm.

“Father,” she said. “Annie and the driver are at the hotel.”
~~~

I hope you got your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are purchase links for you:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

I received the proof for the print book edition yesterday. When I finish reading through it yet another time to check for any possible errors, I'll take whatever action I need to, and the book will proceed on its path toward actual printing. I'll let you know when it's available as a print edition.

Sample Saturday: War Party

I wasn't sure I would be able to post something for today, because I've had at least five power outages during this week of snow storms. But yay! The power is on for now, and as I warm back up, I'm going to share part of a short story called War Party, set in Arizona.

It recounts a tragedy that led up to a fictional participation in an actual event, the Battle of Salt River Canyon at Skeleton Cave in Arizona Territory. Here's the first scene.
~~~

$0.99 at Smashwords and Amazon's Kindle store.

War Party, Scene 1

Black smoke drew Rolla's eye, smoke where there should not be smoke. Then he heard the noise: high, piercing yips, and a woman's scream, and the flat report of gunshots.

A sand hill girdled with stunted mesquite trees blocked his view of the home place. The boy tongued the grass stem from his teeth as the dun-colored pack horse swung its head, nostrils wide, and the rope between the boy and horse tightened. Water in the barrels sloshed and splashed over the rims. Rolla smelled dank wetness as it cut through the dust on the sides of the casks.

He heard Pa's angry voice, and more shots, and the eternal yips, chilling his spine. Rolla started to run, pulling the dun behind, but the horse resisted, so he tied a fumbled knot around a mesquite branch. Then he scrambled and panted his way up the slope.

Rolla reached the top and flopped belly-down behind a tangle-branched creosote bush. He broke a stem so he could see through the shrub, and a tarry odor filled his lungs. Now he saw the source of the smoke. On the right, the dugout roof and door were ablaze, and to the left, hay stacks burned next to the corrals. The boy tried to count the dashing, milling figures with long black hair tied down by rolled bandanas, but because of the dust and smoke, he lost the total.

Apaches! he thought, remembering a neighbor's warning: "They's got hair down to here, boy, and them dirty white cloths to hide their nekkedness. And most often they's got a white band of paint clear acrost their faces, from ear to ear, nose and all."

One of the raiders knocked down the corral poles. The stock spilled out, chased by another Indian, and the rest of the band bunched behind, whooping, and drove the protesting animals onto the trail.

When the Apaches were a cloud of ocher dust, Rolla slid down the hill and, kicking the tree, snapped the spiny branch holding the horse's tether rope. He ran along the path, jerking the animal behind him, not caring about the water.

The boy came yelling into the yard between the overturned wagon and the stone fence surrounding the garden plot. "Pa!" he called, and saw a dark brown patch on the tan earth near the wagon. The boy dropped the horse's rope and followed scuff marks around the vehicle.

His father lay in a heap, and Rolla skidded to a halt beside him. "Pa," he cried, and knelt to shake the man. "Pa, wake up. They're gone." Then he recoiled, and held himself rigid at the sight of the stark white and crimson circle on the top of Pa's head. Rolla drew in a deep breath, and took in the dust and smoke, and the sweet-rank stench of blood.

The first, numbing shock passed, and the boy laid his hand inside his father's coat, checking for a heartbeat. There was none, and he stumbled to his feet.

"Ma?" he asked, looking around, swallowing hard, and he saw the splash of white petticoats behind the black wash kettle. "No, please," he prayed, feet dragging, as he approached the place where one shoe stuck out from in back of the boiling pot. He stopped, then peered around the column of rising steam.

Ma lay stretched out, eyes wide, mouth twisted, and the bodice of her gray dress was dark with blood. Her shawl looked like a yellow butterfly on the ground, and Rolla picked it up, fingering the soft wool. The threads caught on his chapped hands, and he clenched his fists over the wrap.

"Ma!" he yelled, and an echo returned from the hill as he draped the shawl over her terrified features. As he got up, he shook with restrained rage, and for a moment he stood, quivering, as though he were rooted between the two fallen figures. Then the youth dug one grave on the flat behind the corral: a large one beside the two small ones already there in the Arizona sand. After he rolled rocks atop the mounded earth, Rolla took his hat by the crown, pulled it forward off his head, and mumbled the Lord's Prayer before he stamped back to the yard.

The boy kicked through the rubble of the corral and found the riding saddle. He caught and tethered the dun, dumped the water barrels, loosened the pack saddle, and pushed it to the ground. Then he hoisted the riding saddle onto the horse's back.

Although the smoking roof poles had collapsed, and the front part of the house sagged, the fire had burned itself out, and Rolla wrestled the charred door aside and stepped into the dugout.

He found saddlebags, and stuffed them with whatever came first to hand: a loaf of bread; tins of tomatoes; his store-bought shirt; ammunition for the Winchester he had found under his father's body, brass dulled with blood. Then he rolled and tied a pair of quilts. Last, he picked up the photographic portrait of Matt and Kate Wood on their wedding day, and carried everything out into the daylight.

Rolla stared hard at the picture, as though by staring he could bring his parents to life. A dark sigh shook his body, and he pressed his lips together, shuddering at the contrast between this almost smiling couple and the mutilated corpses he had buried.

"I'll get 'em, Pa," he choked, his voice high, thin. "Those 'Paches killed their last white folks."

He shoved the portrait into his coat pocket, then hoisted the saddlebags behind the saddle, secured them, and tied on his bedroll. The rifle he jammed into the boot, then he loosed the horse, gathered the reins, and stepped onto the chopping stump to reach the stirrup. Mounted, he took one last, bitter look around, then bounced his heels off the mustang's ribs, and it skittered out of the yard and onto the trail.
~~~

Young Rolla has revenge in mind. Have you ever been so provoked that you thought of killing someone? How could you defuse that strong emotion? What else might Rolla have done in these circumstances instead of vowing revenge upon a band of Indians?

After you give your answer, be sure to go buy the story to learn what happens to Rolla:
Smashwords in all ebook formats| Kindle