If you are looking
for a bargain read, I recommend HIGH
STAKES BRIDE, Men of Stone Mountain, Book 2. Monday, October 17, this book is on sale
for 99 cents. Tuesday through Thursday, the price goes to $1.99 and back to
full price on Friday. Of course I love this book, but readers have told me they
do too. I think of the Stone family as friends. (Yes, authors are a little bit crazy.)
The book is dressed up in a
new cover designed by Skhye Moncrief. I hope you like the cover. HIGH STAKES BRIDE is available from
Amazon at https://amzn.com/B009F7JLTK. The sale is only on the e-book, but HIGH STAKES BRIDE is also available in audiobook and in print.
ABOUT THE BOOK AND THE SERIES
If you’ve been reading this
blog, you know that I developed the premise for this trilogy while visiting the
historic Belding-Gibson Ranch in Palo Pinto County. This is a large ranch, but
only a fraction of the original size due to divisions among family members. The
original home site has been protected by Barbara (Belding) and Charles Gibson. (Sadly,
Barbara Gibson has now passed away.)The first occasion of their opening their
ranch to visitors was the release of Barbara’s book about the ranch, PAINTED
POLE. I am so happy that I was able to tour this historic property in the
beautiful (to me) Palo Pinto Mountains not once, but three times. The Gibson
family has been good stewards of their heritage.
In HIGH STAKES BRIDE, Alice Price is on the run from dangerous men.
She had known that when her stepfather died, she would have to hurriedly escape
her stepbrothers. Hadn’t she heard them promise her to the meanest man in Texas
as payment for high stakes gambling losses? One misfortune after another devils
her until she links up with Zach Stone. He looks sturdy as his last name and
invites her to his ranch where his two aunts will chaperone them. She figures
life finally dealt her a winning hand.
Zach Stone has the sweetest
ranch in all of Texas, at least he thinks he does. All he needs is a wife to
build his family of boys and girls to carry on his ranch and name. He’s been
jilted and vows he will never even speak to a woman again unless she's a
relative. Then he comes across Alice Price and comes up with a crazy plan. He’s
figured everything out, and is sure nothing can go wrong with his plan.
But life holds surprises for
Alice and Zach...
Doesn’t it always?
HIGH STAKES BRIDE has several incidents
based on real life, a first for me. Characters and stories pop into my head
unbidden, and I don’t use anything specific from life. I qualify the statement
because I believe our subconscious is a pool of combined experiences from our
lives and those of people we know or have heard about. In other words, a
writer’s muse steals from a writer’s subconscious well.
For this book, though,
several things fit the book. The first was an incident that happened to my
brother’s ex-fiancée Kay one year on the day after Thanksgiving, involving a
mountain lion. In her case, the animal was a large black Mexican jaguar. These
are odd-looking cats in that they appear black, but you can see the spots too.
She was lucky the big cat had recently killed a deer and decided not to have
her for dessert so she could retreat. We had a black Mexican jaguar in Parker
County while we lived there, as they have moved further north with the climate
changes.
The second thing combined with
the first is in the excerpt below and happened to my former neighbor when her
bull—which was just being affectionate—pushed her into one of those large round
hay bales and dislocated her shoulder. You know how a cat head-butts you in
affection, but with a large bull, the head-butt can be a major problem.
Third, I used an historic
incident and had a real life hero, Brit Johnson, help my fictional hero. When
Brit Johnson’s wife and children were captured by Comanche, he went after them
and rescued them. After that, he successfully rescued several kidnapped
children from the Comanche and Kiowa.
The fourth incident is based
on the time my friend Maxine tried to dye her hair darker and had the same
result as Alice. Maxine used modern color from the drug store, while Alice had
to make her own dye.
Now here’s a rather long excerpt
from HIGH STAKES BRIDE:
Zach
Stone cursed to himself. If this didn’t just round out his week from hell. All
he wanted was to sleep out here alone and sort things in his mind before he
went home. Even the approaching storm didn’t worry him. He’d almost welcome the
discomfort to take his mind off his predicament.
Although
the desire for uninterrupted time alone had sent him toward the little cabin
where he’d lived before acquiring the Warren’s vast spread, he’d changed his
mind. When he rode across this spot, he’d decided to camp here a few days then
head on home. Now icy wind whipped down the valley and he regretted he wasn’t
snug in the cabin with the door bolted against the world.
Zach
had seen Solomon’s head rise and his ears prick forward, the big gelding’s
silent announcement of visitors. Plus, Zach’s years as a lawman meant he had a
keen sense of trouble dogging him. He didn’t know who watched him but someone
sure as hell lurked in that stand of live oaks. Probably waited to strike until
he fell asleep. Well, any two-legged varmint who thought he’d catch Zachariah
Greenberry Stone unaware had damn well better think again.
Mary
Alice had smelled coffee and woodsmoke and decided to investigate. She had
parked the mules, winced as she’d slipped out of Pa’s big coat, and crept
closer. She rued the bad luck that had plagued her these last couple of days.
Even trees hadn’t been too friendly of late, but she’d managed to climb this
old live oak due to a low branch that almost dipped to the ground and acted as
a step to climb higher.
“Hurry
up, mister,” she muttered softly.
She
lay along the live oak’s limb and watched the man named Stone cook his
dinner—and hers, she hoped—and settle in for the night. When she’d first seen
him in Russell Springs yesterday, she’d thought him a rancher but hadn’t any
idea where he lived.
Definitely
the same man she’d seen in Russell Springs, but he appeared to have been camped
here a couple of days. She heaved a sigh and once more wished Pa had taught her
something about the area when he taught her to shoot, but he wanted her safe at
home. Safe? She almost snorted to herself.
She’d
heard her two stepbrothers promise to deliver her to that devil Fernando
Vargas. All to satisfy their gambling debts, as if she counted no more than a
hand of cards or coins. Vargas had probably cheated at poker as he did at other
things.
She
remembered overhearing Vargas brag about the women he’d used. If he got his
hands on her, she’d be a goner for sure. Assuming she lived until that monster
tired of her, she’d wind up chained in some Mexican brothel with no hope of
escape until she died of disease or mistreatment.
Fear
dragged at her weary body. Not since Pa took sick three years ago had she had a
good night’s sleep. If not for Pa’s illness, she would have gone east when Mama
died.
Back
then, Pa could still control the boys and prevent them from following her, but
a few weeks before Ma died, he started coughing up blood. He hid it from the
boys for a couple of years, but he’d finally had to tell them he was sick from
stomach cancer. A few months back he was forced to take to his bed.
“Poor
Pa.” She looked heavenward, hoping that’s where he’d ended up. “Sorry I
couldn’t even see to your burying.”
The
Stone man on the ground moved and reminded her she needed to pay attention to
her quarry. Shoulders wide as a door and one of the tallest men she’d ever seen
let her know he’d be hard to beat in a struggle. Something told her he was a
nice person, though she couldn’t say why.
Just
the same, Mary Alice thought, she’d better bide her time and wait for this
giant to sleep. Pa was the only kindly man she’d met since she was old enough
to remember. She couldn’t take a chance on this one being any better than the
rest who’d come around.
The
Stone man placed the coffeepot on a rock at the side of his campfire then did
the same with a pot of what looked like beans. Next he took several slices of
bacon from a frying pan and laid them on top of the beans. The grease sizzled
as he dumped it onto the sand. A frigid breeze carried the pungent aroma of
bacon and coffee mixed in with woodsmoke.
Her
mouth watered and her belly rumbled so loud that she feared the man might hear.
She’d been without food since yesterday. First she’d feared taking time to eat
more than a few cold biscuits, then she’d ditched her food when her horse ran
away. Now the smell of this man's dinner had her near fainting--provided she
didn’t freeze first.
Why
didn’t he give up and climb into that fancy bedroll he’d spread out earlier?
Then she could slip down and get something to eat. If, that is, she could stay
in this tree and not pass out from a combination of pain, fear, hunger, and
fatigue.
Clouds
rolled in from the north to mask the full moon and the temperature dropped
rapidly. She smelled the coming storm on the wind. Lord, but she wished he’d
settle in before the storm reached them. At last he finished his preparations
and crawled into his bedroll. Now all she had to do was wait until he fell
asleep. How long could that take?
Zach
slipped into the bedroll and waited, pistol in hand. He feigned sleep,
wondering what kind of man tarried nearby. Whoever it was could have picked
Zach off, so the sidewinder must not have murder on his mind.
Probably
up to no good hiding out like that, though, because any Westerner would share
his campfire and vittles with anyone who rode into camp. Zach wriggled into a
comfortable spot and lay motionless. Anger at recent events helped him remain
awake.
The
footfalls came so softly he almost missed them. He opened his eyes a slit, but
enough to see a thin shadow move toward the fire. About then heavy clouds
overhead parted and the moonlight revealed a boy who scooped up a slice of
bacon and slid it into his mouth.
The
culprit set Zach’s tin plate on the ground near the fire, ladled beans into it,
and picked up a fork. He squatted down and balanced the plate on his knees
before he commenced eating. Zach noticed he kept his left hand in his pocket
the whole time.
Something
must be wrong with the thief’s left arm.
Looked too young for it to have been a casualty of the War. Lots of
other ways to get hurt out here. Whatever had happened to his left arm, his
right one worked well enough. He forked food into his mouth like he hadn’t
eaten in a week.
Zach
let him shovel beans for a few minutes. Crook or not, anyone that hungry
deserved a meal. When the kid stopped eating, Zach couldn’t figure out what he
was doing. It looked as if he used the
fork to scratch around on the ground, so he must have eaten his fill. Zach
slipped his hand from beneath the cover and cocked the pistol.
“Hold
it right there, son. I’d like to know why you’re eating without at least a
howdy to the man who provided the food.”
The
boy paused, then set the plate down slowly. “I left money here on a rock to pay
for it.”
Odd
sounding voice, but the kid was probably scared. Zach slipped from his bedroll
and stood, but kept his gun pointed at the food robber. “Maybe.”
Zach
walked toward the kid, careful to train his gaze so the firelight didn’t dim
his eyesight. Sure enough, he spotted a couple of coins on the rock beside his
pot of beans, or what remained of them, and his empty plate.
He
faced the intruder. “Why not just come into camp earlier instead of sneaking in
after you thought I was asleep?”
“I—I
was afraid you weren’t friendly.”
Zach
thought he also heard the kid mutter what sounded like “...or maybe too
friendly.” Must be the wind, he thought, as he neared the boy.
Zach
motioned with his free hand. “I don’t begrudge anyone food, but I hate
dishonesty and sneaking around. Stand up
so I can see you.”
The
kid stood, hat low over his face and his good hand clenched.
Zach
reached to push the brim back. “What’s your name?”
The
kid stepped forward. “None of your business, mister.”
A
fistful of sand hit Zach’s face. He heard his assailant run. Mad as the devil,
Zach brushed grit from his eyes and set out in pursuit. The kid was fast, he’d
give him that, but so was Zach. His longer legs narrowed the distance between
them. With a running lunge, he tackled
the kid.
“Oof.
Let me go.” The lad was all wriggles and kicking feet as he squirmed trying to
escape.
Zach
wasn’t about to let that happen. They rolled in the dirt. In one move Zach
pinned the boy’s good arm. The hat fell aside and a mass of curls spilled
around the kid’s face.
His
jacket parted and unmistakable curves pushed upward where Zach’s other hand
rested. Zach stared in disbelief. Registering his hand pressed against a
heavenly mound shocked him and he jerked his paw away.
“Well,
I’ll be damned. You’re not a boy.”
The
woman glared at him. “Right, and you’re not exactly a feather. Get off me.”
Zach
stood and bent to help her but she curled into a ball where she lay. “Ma’am,
you okay?”
“Just
dandy.” She sat up, moving like a hundred-year-old. She glared at him while
holding her stomach with her good hand. The other arm dangled uselessly.
“You’ve likely broken the few uninjured bones I had left.”
His
temper flared. “Hey, lady, don’t try to put the blame on me. If you’d been
honest and come into camp like any other traveler, I’d have shared my food with
you.”
“Yeah,
well a woman on her own can’t be too careful and I don’t know you or anything
about you.”
Zach
saw her point. Though most Western men would respect a woman, it wouldn’t help
if she ran into one of the exceptions.
“What’s
wrong with your arm?”
She
glared at him and appeared to debate with herself before she said, “Fell out of
a tree. My arm caught in the fork of a branch. Pulled it out of socket and I
can’t get it back.”
Well
hell. As if he didn’t have enough on his mind. Now that he’d decided not to
speak to another woman unrelated to him, this bundle of trouble showed up
needing a keeper.
Resigning
himself to one more stroke of bad luck, he said, “Take off your coat and come
over here to my bedroll.”
The
campfire sparked less than her eyes. “I’ll do no such of a thing. Don’t be
thinking you can take liberties because I ate your food and I’m injured. I paid
for the food.”
Zach
exhaled and planted his fists on his hips. “Ma’am, there’s not enough money in
Texas to pay me to take liberties with you. If you’ll move to my bedroll and
lie down, I’ll put your arm back in place. You’ll likely have to take off your,
um, your shirt.”
She
looked him up and down as if she weighed him and found him lacking. “I figured
you for a rancher. You a doctor then?”
“Ranchers
have to know a good bit about patching people.”
She
straightened herself and swished past him as if she wore a ball gown instead of
a man’s torn britches. Watching the feminine sway of her hips as she sashayed
to the other side of the campfire, he wondered how he ever mistook her for
male. He followed her and tried not to appreciate her long legs or the way the
fabric molded to them like a second skin.
When
she reached the blasted bedroll he’d been stuck with, she slid out of her
jacket. A grimace of pain flashed across her face as the weight of the light
coat slipped down her injured arm. In one graceful move she plopped down on the
bedroll.
“You’re
sure you can do this?” she asked and looked up at him.
Flickering
firelight placed her features in shadow. Moving closer, he figured the poor
light played tricks on him, for he couldn't tell the color of her hair. He
decided she had light brown or dark blonde curls. Whatever color her eyes were,
maybe blue or green, they were big and watched him with suspicion.
“Yes.
Sorry, I don’t have any spirits with me to deaden the pain.”
“I
never touch alcohol. If you’re sure you can do this, just get on with it.” She
unbuttoned her shirt and winced as she slid the injured shoulder and arm free,
and then stuck her chin up as if she dared him to make an improper comment or
gesture.
He
knelt beside her, keenly aware of the differences that proved her womanhood. A
chemise of fabric worn so thin as to be almost transparent pulled taut across
her breasts. He swallowed and willed himself to ignore the dark circles
surrounding the pearly peaks thrusting at the flimsy material. The memory of
the lush mound he’d touched briefly wouldn’t leave him. He’d been alone too
long and had better concentrate on the job at hand.
“Stretch
out and try to relax. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but this will hurt.”
“Hurts
already, but I better put my bandana in my mouth so I don’t scream. I’m not a
whiner, mind, but wouldn’t want to draw attention if there’s others nearby.”
She slipped the cloth knotted around her neck up to her mouth like a gag, then
laid down.
She
moaned but didn’t fight him. Zach had seen this done numerous times over the
years and had performed it twice. He probed her shoulder gently, then rotated
her arm to slip it back into place.
He
listened for the snick of the bone reseating itself in the socket. When he
finished, he massaged the muscles of her upper arm and shoulder. She’d likely
be sore for weeks, but the harm she had done wasn’t permanent.
“Have
to give it to you, ma’am. You were the quietest patient I’ve ever seen.”
She
lay with her face turned away from him. When he leaned over, he realized she’d
passed out.
And it’s no wonder, is it? Once again, I remind you that HIGH STAKES BRIDE is available from Amazon at https://amzn.com/B009F7JLTK It's also available as an audio book and in print.
