LOVE LETTERS by CHERYL PIERSON

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE! This is a re-run of a previous blog from years past, but I "love" love letters, and I am so proud of Mail Order Brides for Sale: The Remington Sisters I just had to give it another shout out!

Ah, those wonderful love letters! Don’t we love reading them? I must admit I have an affinity for love letters because of the insights they give us into the past, and the people who lived then.

With Valentine’s Day almost here and my 39th wedding anniversary just celebrated on the 10th, love letters are something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Probably because of the time of year, but also because, as authors, we have to use letters and notes in our writing to “get the message” across that perhaps our characters might not be able to speak aloud.

My hubby is, like many men, not sentimental. He wouldn’t care if I never got him another Valentine’s Day or anniversary card, but they mean a lot to me—so we exchange them every year. I suspect that, through the years past right down to the present, most men didn’t and don’t make flowery love speeches from their hearts, or even write their innermost thoughts and feelings in cards and letters.

One of the most poignant love letters I know of is the famous letter written by Union Army Major Sullivan Ballou, just before the First Battle of Bull Run in 1861 where he died at the age of 32. Married only 6 years, he left behind two small sons and his wife, Sarah. The letter he wrote to Sarah days before he was killed is one that speaks poignantly of his guilt at having to choose between his duty to country and duty to family. Ken Burns used a shortened version of the letter in his series, The Civil War—and its contents are unforgettable, and so powerful it brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.

In part, it reads:

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

I had to come up with a love letter, of sorts, for my latest novel, Sabrina, part of the 4-book set entitled MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON SISTERS. Oh, nothing to beautiful as this letter penned by a soldier marching to his inevitable death, but a letter that had to convince Sabrina to leave her wealthy lifestyle in Philadelphia and come West to Indian Territory!

Sabrina and her three older sisters have to have mail-order arrangements in order to get out of the fix they’re in with a step-father who plans to sell them to the highest bidder—and they don’t have much time to do it. When Sabrina receives two proposals on the same day, she counts her lucky stars that she’s able to compare the two letters and has a choice between the two men who have written her—something many women of the day did not have.

She’s safely with the man she’s chosen now, Cameron Fraser, but she’s remembering the day she received the letters and why she made the decision she did. Take a look:

She’d answered ads from both Cameron Fraser and David Mason. Ironically, she’d received offers from both men on the same day. That had been a blessing, as she was able to compare their responses immediately.
Mr. Mason had written one page, in sprawling wide script.

“I have need of a wife to help me raise my four children I was left with after my sainted Amelia passed on last year. Your help will be appreciated. And I will do right by you. I hope you are a willing worker and a good cook. Can you make good cornbread? That is a must in our home…”

She’d opened Mr. Mason’s letter first, and tucked it back into the envelope quickly. She’d hoped she’d managed to keep the revulsion from her face when her oldest sister, Lola, had come hurrying through the door. Lola was five years older, and Sabrina could never manage to keep a secret from her, no matter how she tried.

“Well?” Lola had asked, pinning Sabrina with “the look” that Sabrina dreaded.

“I haven’t read them,” Sabrina said defiantly.

“Bree. You know we have to get out of here—the sooner the better. We don’t have much time.”

Here’s the difference, and why she chose Cam. He wanted her for more than making cornbread!

Lola had turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. That’s how Sabrina knew her oldest sister was angry—or hurt. Maybe both.

She’d sighed, and begun to open the letter from Mr. Cameron Fraser. And before she’d read the entire first page of his two-page missive, she knew her decision was made.

Dear Miss Remington,

Thank you for your very kind response to the ad I placed for a bride. I felt out of place to do such a thing, but your answer made me glad I did so, after all.

I know that Indian Territory may seem uncivilized and wild to a well-bred lady such as yourself, who has grown up in the cultured, genteel society of the East, but I assure you, I will do everything in my power to welcome you. In no time at all, I hope you’ll come to think of the Territory as your home.

My family owns a fairly large cattle ranch in Indian Territory. I wanted to assure you that, although the ranch itself is somewhat isolated, we are close enough to Briartown to travel there frequently for supplies.

You will be safe here, Miss Remington, and cherished. You will be well-treated, and I promise you here and now, I will never raise a hand to you.

If it is your will, and I hope it will be, I am willing to be a good and loving father to any children we may have—and a good and loving husband to you.

The sky here is the bluest you’ve ever seen. The water is the freshest and coldest. And I hope you will come to love the open range as much as we Frasers do.

I await your arrival in Ft. Smith. I will meet you there, where we’ll be legally married in a civil ceremony before we travel together to the ranch. Enclosed, you will find a financial draft for your passage and travel expenses.

Sincerely,

Cameron James Fraser

Something about the underlying feeling of the words Cam had written spoke to Sabrina. That he’d taken time to describe—even briefly—how he felt about his ranch made her know that he cared about her feelings—not just about what skills she might bring to the marriage table.

I see it, too, don’t you? He loves the land and his life, and wants her to share it with him. I wonder if women who were forced to take this route looked for these types of things—I know I would. And Sabrina is a bit of an adventurer, so going to Indian Territory would not hold her back. Adventure awaited!

Have you ever received a love letter that meant the world to you? I’ve had a few in my lifetime, and they’re tucked away in my desk and my heart! If you would like to share, we’d love to hear about your love letters—it’s that time of the year—love is in the air!

Here’s the blurb for MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON SISTERS–buy link below!

Boxed set of four full length mail order bride novels.

Brought up in the wealth and comfort of Eastern “old money” in staid and proper Philadelphia, the Remington sisters are forced to scatter to the four winds and become mail-order brides. In order to gain a fortune, their sinister step-father, Josiah Bloodworth, has made plans to marry them off in loveless marriages. Time is running out, and no matter what lies ahead in their uncertain futures, it has to be better than the evil they’re running from…

LIZZY: Livia J. Washburn

Elizabeth Remington’s world is turned upside down when she is forced to become a mail-order bride. With her cat, Fulton, Lizzy flees to Alaska—only to discover the man she’s to marry is not who she thought he was! Now, she must protect herself from the biggest danger of all—her own heart. Handsome Flint McKinnon has signed his soul away to her step-father, hasn’t he? He’s chased Lizzy across the continent, but can she believe him when he says he loves her?

BELLE: Jacquie Rogers

Belle Remington must marry someone before the dangerous Neville Fenster catches up with her. She hightails it out of Philadelphia to the wilds of Idaho Territory to become a bootmaker’s bride, but when she arrives in Oreana, she discovers her groom has been murdered! Now, handsome, inebriated rancher Cord Callahan insists on fulfilling the marriage contract himself. Belle is beautiful and smart as a whip. But she has a secret. When Fenster shows up, can Cord protect the woman he wants to love forever?

SABRINA: Cheryl Pierson

Impulsive Sabrina Remington, the youngest, weds a man she knows her family would disapprove of. Though Cameron Fraser’s family owns a ranch in lawless Indian Territory, he’s made his way in the world with a gun, living barely on the right side of the law. With everything on the line as Bloodworth and his henchmen close in, will Cam be able to protect Sabrina from the desperate man who means to kidnap her for his own wicked purposes?

LOLA: Celia Yeary

Sensible Lola Remington, the eldest of the four sisters, must be certain the others are on their way to safety before she can think of fleeing Philadelphia herself. With the help of a local bridal agency, Lola finds the perfect husband for herself—in the wild countryside of Texas. Jack Rains owns a ranch and he’s in need of a bride—and children, of course! But just when Lola starts to believe there might be a future for them, she discovers a hidden letter from another woman…Jack’s first wife.

Mail Order Brides for Sale: The Remington Sisters is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. Here’s the link!
https://tinyurl.com/y8cmb4m8
PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS WEBSITE: https://www.prairierosepublications.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cheryl.pierson.92
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Cherokeegirl57

Mail Order Brides for Sale: The Remington Sisters is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. Here’s the link!
https://tinyurl.com/y8cmb4m8

The Lawman History Forgot - Elizabeth Clements

THE LAWMAN HISTORY FORGOT  -  Elizabeth Clements

The horror of fighting in the Civil War had a traumatic effect on many of the men and not just from the loss of a limb or an eye but also left haunting mental images of awful butchery. Some came home to a rundown property or found their land confiscated for unpaid taxes. Many couldn’t find jobs and in desperation some men turned to stealing and raiding to survive. When pursued by the law, the desperadoes often eluded capture by escaping into the Indian Territory. Lawlessness ran rampant, creating a need for law and order.

We’ve heard of some of the more famous lawmen that populated the Wild West, such as Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Sheriff Pat Garett and Wild Bill Hickock. But there is another lawman I had never heard of until I started researching the history of deputy marshals for my book, Beneath A Horse Thief Moon.

I came across the story of one deputy marshal with an amazing career. Bass Reeve was born in January 1838 on a plantation owned by Arkansas state legislator, William Steele Reeves. Bass was named after his grandfather, Bass Washington, but being a slave, he had the surname of his master. After a move to Texas, Bass was owned by George Reeves, who took Bass with him into the Civil War at age 23, probably because Bass was good with horses and guns. It is unclear what exactly transpired between Bass and his new owner that made him run off into the Indian Territory to live with the Cherokee, Creeks and Seminoles. Bass not only learned their language, but he also became very familiar with the land, which was to benefit him immensely in the near future.

The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery at the end of the war in 1865, making Bass a freed man. Bass took his young family to Arkansas where he farmed for a few years until he was hired as a deputy U.S. marshal to serve in the Indian Territory because he could speak several Indian languages and had extensive knowledge of the area.

The Indian Territory had become increasingly dangerous with outlaws who could not—or would not adjust to a normal, honest way of life after having killed and plundered during the war. One court and one judge were insufficient to cover this large area where outlaws had claimed over 225 lives. Isaac Parker, (later known as the Hanging Judge because he’d had 70 men hung for their crimes) was appointed as a federal judge for the Indian Territory. Judge Parker knew needed fearless men with integrity who knew how to shoot.

Bass Reeves had integrity, courage, good instincts and knew the territory well, so despite being black and illiterate, he was hired and became the first black deputy west of the Mississippi. Although Bass couldn’t read nor write, he was blessed with an incredible memory and an uncanny ability to recognize names by the shape of the letters. In the 32 years of his career as a marshal, he never made a single mistake by capturing the wrong outlaw or in his reports. He could flip through a wad of writs and recognize names and go after those outlaws. Due to his incredible memory, his reports were always on time and in perfect order (possibly he dictated them).

Bass Reeve was a tall man, preferred to dress well, sported a big, bushy mustache and rode a white horse. He worked well undercover, too, using a disguise as needed, to fool men who didn’t expect a black man to be a lawman. In one case, he tracked down two brothers who holed up with their mother. Before approaching the cabin, Bass removed his badge, shot a hole through his hat and changed into worn clothing so that he looked more believable as a drifter seeking work. The woman took him in and fed him supper. After everyone was asleep, Bass took out his handcuffs and arrested the brothers. Luckily, he was not shot by the enraged mother of the outlaws when he rode away with her sons.

Over the years as his reputation grew, Bass incurred jealousy from some lawmen who resented that Bass was a famous black man who always managed to bring in his man. Thus, he was framed for a murder which he did not commit. According to tribal law in the Indian Territory, black marshals were always to be accompanied by a Native American. One day when the posse was bringing several fugitives to Fort Smith for trial, Bass was repairing his jammed rifle when it went off and he accidentally shot the cook.

Bass was arrested and was thrown in with other prisoners in the fetid jail beneath the courthouse. The dungeon was a dirt floor and had no bathroom facilities except for a communal bucket. The stench, especially in the summer, was so bad that sawdust was tamped between the floorboards to block the odor leaking into the courtroom above. Bass sold off everything he owned to pay for his bail and a lawyer. The trial was not going well in his favor until the wife of one of the fugitives bravely testified what had actually happened and all charges against Bass were dropped.

Many people assumed that would be the end of his marshal days, but no, Bass went right back to hunting fugitives and outlaws. After all, he had a wife and 11 children to support and there was no cushion, such as life insurance, if one got killed in the line of duty. In the span of his career, Bass Reeves arrested over 3,000 outlaws, killed only 14 men and he himself was never wounded. However, he did play possum in one instance while tracking a vicious, sadistic killer called Bob Dossier.

Bass and his partner were tracking Bob Dossier through some rough, wooded territory. Shots were exchanged. Dossier shot at Bass, who fell and lay still. Feeling victorious that he would now be known for having killed the famous lawman, Bass Reeves, Dossier approached. Bass waited patiently for the outlaw to get closer, then twisted and fired, killing him.

Despite his career as a lawman, Bass was known to be a deeply religious man and only killed in self-defense. He also proved his integrity when he arrested his son, Benjamin. With Bass away for weeks at a time, his children perhaps didn’t have the fatherly guidance a son needed. Ben had been jailed for beating his cheating wife. When Bass gave his son fatherly advice, Ben took matters into his own hands upon release and ended up killing his wife—not quite what Bass had suggested with his advice. None of the marshals wanted to bring in Ben, but when Bass recognized the name “Reeves” on the warrant, he said he would bring him in, and he did. Ben was sentenced to 11 years in the penitentiary; he was pardoned after 8 years and led a straight life after that as a barber.

Reeves served as a deputy U.S. marshal until 1893 in the Western District of Arkansas, which included responsibility for the Indian Territory. He was then transferred to Paris, Texas for a few years, then transferred again in 1897 to serve at the Muskogee Federal Court in the Indian Territory. His career as a deputy marshal came to an end when Oklahoma became a state in 1907 and an act was passed that banned black men from being deputy marshals. Thus, for a short time, at the age of 68, Bass became an officer of the Muskogee Police Department. He retired in 1907 and died in Muskogee, Oklahoma in 1910 at the age of 71.

But the story doesn’t end there about the man that history kinda forgot. Years later, in Detroit in 1933, there was a radio station next to a correction facility—the Detroit House of Correction, where prisoners were brought from Fort Smith. Stories were told to the prison guards about a black lawman of the old west. Is it just coincidence that there were several parallels between Bass Reeves and the Lone Ranger? Bass rode a white horse; had worn disguises at times; had a Native American as a sidekick (by tribal law a black deputy marshal had to be accompanied); Bass had integrity and fought for justice and always got his man. Bass was known to give silver dollars to people, not silver bullets. Legend also had it that if Bass Reeves were to spit on a brick, the brick would break—which indicates Bass was a tough lawman. Bass never set out to be a legend— he just defended the law because he felt where there’s law, there’s freedom. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bass_Reeves

So the next time you catch a rerun of the Lone Ranger tv series or an old classic movie, perhaps you’ll smile and think of Bass Reeves.

In my western trilogy that began with Beneath A Horse Thief Moon, I wanted to know more about deputy U.S. marshals. Thus, when I came across the tidbit about a marshal who could neither read nor write yet kept excellent records, I was so relieved that this was believable for my secondary character, Mike Sutton, who got his own story in Beneath A Fugitive Moon. Here is an excerpt:

 Jolene gazed at him, struck suddenly by his manner. He wasn’t defiant, or angry. His red face was of embarrassment. There was more to this. The teacher in her had to find out. “Mike, if you had trouble with the form, why didn’t you say so? I’d have helped you.”

            He jerked around and went to the window, shoulders slumped, staring out into the darkness.

            What’s wrong with him? Something’s not right here. “If you’re afraid of your penmanship, I’ll fill it out for you.”

            “I’m not interested in goin’ to university, let alone bein’ a doctor.”

            His voice didn’t have the ring of truth to it. Yet, she was convinced he was hiding something. But what? Her gaze fell back on the paper and she stared at the words as if they could supply the answer. And then they did.

            Stunned, she replayed the scene in her mind. He’d picked up the paper, barely glanced at it and handed it to her. He hadn’t turned the page around, so he had to have been reading it upside down before handing it to her.

            Suddenly another image popped into her mind. Back at the house in town, when he’d been recuperating. She’d brought him the newspaper. He’d held it upside down. She’d even teased him about it and he’d blushed to the roots of his hair. After that he’d told her not to bother bringing him any newspapers. He didn’t like to read.

            Didn’t...or couldn’t? And then it hit her and all the jigsaw pieces fell into place. Mike was illiterate. Land sakes, that was nothing to be ashamed of. The majority of the population couldn’t read or write. That’s why she took her teaching so seriously.

            She glanced at Mike’s stiff, proud back and was swamped with emotions so powerful it made her stomach ache. Tears burned her eyes. She had to swallow hard past the lump forming in her throat. She walked to him. Tentatively, she touched him on his arm. He didn’t respond.

            “Mike, please turn around and look at me.” His shoulder muscles bunched. Slowly, he turned toward her, glanced at her eyes and quickly away. She was devastated by the anguish on his face. “Mike, I’m your friend. I never meant to hurt you or embarrass you.”

Beneath A Horse Thief Moon

Beneath A Fugitive Moon

Hot Western Nights Anthology

LOVE LETTERS--February #blogabookscene by Cheryl Pierson

Ah, those wonderful love letters! Don’t we love reading them? I must admit I have an affinity for love letters because of the insights they give us into the past, and the people who lived then.

With Valentine’s Day almost here and my 39th wedding anniversary just celebrated on the 10th, love letters are something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Probably because of the time of year, but also because, as authors, we have to use letters and notes in our writing to “get the message” across that perhaps our characters might not be able to speak aloud.

My hubby is, like many men, not sentimental. He wouldn’t care if I never got him another Valentine’s Day or anniversary card, but they mean a lot to me—so we exchange them every year. I suspect that, through the years past right down to the present, most men didn’t and don’t make flowery love speeches from their hearts, or even write their innermost thoughts and feelings in cards and letters.

One of the most poignant love letters I know of is the famous letter written by Union Army Major Sullivan Ballou, just before the First Battle of Bull Run in 1861 where he died at the age of 32. Married only 6 years, he left behind two small sons and his wife, Sarah. The letter he wrote to Sarah days before he was killed is one that speaks poignantly of his guilt at having to choose between his duty to country and duty to family. Ken Burns used a shortened version of the letter in his series, The Civil War—and its contents are unforgettable, and so powerful it brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.

In part, it reads:

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

I had to come up with a love letter, of sorts, for my latest novel, Sabrina, part of the 4-book set entitled MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON SISTERS. Oh, nothing to beautiful as this letter penned by a soldier marching to his inevitable death, but a letter that had to convince Sabrina to leave her wealthy lifestyle in Philadelphia and come West to Indian Territory!

Sabrina and her three older sisters have to have mail-order arrangements in order to get out of the fix they’re in with a step-father who plans to sell them to the highest bidder—and they don’t have much time to do it. When Sabrina receives two proposals on the same day, she counts her lucky stars that she’s able to compare the two letters and has a choice between the two men who have written her—something many women of the day did not have.

She’s safely with the man she’s chosen now, Cameron Fraser, but she’s remembering the day she received the letters and why she made the decision she did. Take a look:

She’d answered ads from both Cameron Fraser and David Mason. Ironically, she’d received offers from both men on the same day. That had been a blessing, as she was able to compare their responses immediately.
Mr. Mason had written one page, in sprawling wide script.

“I have need of a wife to help me raise my four children I was left with after my sainted Amelia passed on last year. Your help will be appreciated. And I will do right by you. I hope you are a willing worker and a good cook. Can you make good cornbread? That is a must in our home…”

She’d opened Mr. Mason’s letter first, and tucked it back into the envelope quickly. She’d hoped she’d managed to keep the revulsion from her face when her oldest sister, Lola, had come hurrying through the door. Lola was five years older, and Sabrina could never manage to keep a secret from her, no matter how she tried.

“Well?” Lola had asked, pinning Sabrina with “the look” that Sabrina dreaded.

“I haven’t read them,” Sabrina said defiantly.

“Bree. You know we have to get out of here—the sooner the better. We don’t have much time.”

Here’s the difference, and why she chose Cam. He wanted her for more than making cornbread!

Lola had turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. That’s how Sabrina knew her oldest sister was angry—or hurt. Maybe both.

She’d sighed, and begun to open the letter from Mr. Cameron Fraser. And before she’d read the entire first page of his two-page missive, she knew her decision was made.

Dear Miss Remington,

Thank you for your very kind response to the ad I placed for a bride. I felt out of place to do such a thing, but your answer made me glad I did so, after all.

I know that Indian Territory may seem uncivilized and wild to a well-bred lady such as yourself, who has grown up in the cultured, genteel society of the East, but I assure you, I will do everything in my power to welcome you. In no time at all, I hope you’ll come to think of the Territory as your home.

My family owns a fairly large cattle ranch in Indian Territory. I wanted to assure you that, although the ranch itself is somewhat isolated, we are close enough to Briartown to travel there frequently for supplies.

You will be safe here, Miss Remington, and cherished. You will be well-treated, and I promise you here and now, I will never raise a hand to you.

If it is your will, and I hope it will be, I am willing to be a good and loving father to any children we may have—and a good and loving husband to you.

The sky here is the bluest you’ve ever seen. The water is the freshest and coldest. And I hope you will come to love the open range as much as we Frasers do.

I await your arrival in Ft. Smith. I will meet you there, where we’ll be legally married in a civil ceremony before we travel together to the ranch. Enclosed, you will find a financial draft for your passage and travel expenses.

Sincerely,

Cameron James Fraser

Something about the underlying feeling of the words Cam had written spoke to Sabrina. That he’d taken time to describe—even briefly—how he felt about his ranch made her know that he cared about her feelings—not just about what skills she might bring to the marriage table.

I see it, too, don’t you? He loves the land and his life, and wants her to share it with him. I wonder if women who were forced to take this route looked for these types of things—I know I would. And Sabrina is a bit of an adventurer, so going to Indian Territory would not hold her back. Adventure awaited!

Have you ever received a love letter that meant the world to you? I’ve had a few in my lifetime, and they’re tucked away in my desk and my heart! If you would like to share, we’d love to hear about your love letters—it’s that time of the year—love is in the air!

Here’s the blurb for MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON SISTERS–buy link below!

Boxed set of four full length mail order bride novels.

Brought up in the wealth and comfort of Eastern “old money” in staid and proper Philadelphia, the Remington sisters are forced to scatter to the four winds and become mail-order brides. In order to gain a fortune, their sinister step-father, Josiah Bloodworth, has made plans to marry them off in loveless marriages. Time is running out, and no matter what lies ahead in their uncertain futures, it has to be better than the evil they’re running from…

LIZZY: Livia J. Washburn

Elizabeth Remington’s world is turned upside down when she is forced to become a mail-order bride. With her cat, Fulton, Lizzy flees to Alaska—only to discover the man she’s to marry is not who she thought he was! Now, she must protect herself from the biggest danger of all—her own heart. Handsome Flint McKinnon has signed his soul away to her step-father, hasn’t he? He’s chased Lizzy across the continent, but can she believe him when he says he loves her?

BELLE: Jacquie Rogers

Belle Remington must marry someone before the dangerous Neville Fenster catches up with her. She hightails it out of Philadelphia to the wilds of Idaho Territory to become a bootmaker’s bride, but when she arrives in Oreana, she discovers her groom has been murdered! Now, handsome, inebriated rancher Cord Callahan insists on fulfilling the marriage contract himself. Belle is beautiful and smart as a whip. But she has a secret. When Fenster shows up, can Cord protect the woman he wants to love forever?

SABRINA: Cheryl Pierson

Impulsive Sabrina Remington, the youngest, weds a man she knows her family would disapprove of. Though Cameron Fraser’s family owns a ranch in lawless Indian Territory, he’s made his way in the world with a gun, living barely on the right side of the law. With everything on the line as Bloodworth and his henchmen close in, will Cam be able to protect Sabrina from the desperate man who means to kidnap her for his own wicked purposes?

LOLA: Celia Yeary

Sensible Lola Remington, the eldest of the four sisters, must be certain the others are on their way to safety before she can think of fleeing Philadelphia herself. With the help of a local bridal agency, Lola finds the perfect husband for herself—in the wild countryside of Texas. Jack Rains owns a ranch and he’s in need of a bride—and children, of course! But just when Lola starts to believe there might be a future for them, she discovers a hidden letter from another woman…Jack’s first wife.

Mail Order Brides for Sale: The Remington Sisters is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. Here’s the link!
https://tinyurl.com/y8cmb4m8
PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS WEBSITE: https://www.prairierosepublications.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cheryl.pierson.92
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Cherokeegirl57

Mail Order Brides for Sale: The Remington Sisters is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. Here’s the link!
https://tinyurl.com/y8cmb4m8

NEW RELEASE AND GIVEAWAY! THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON BY CHERYL PIERSON

A woman with no home…

Beautiful Southern belle Julia Jackson has just been informed she and her niece must find a new home immediately—or else. With no family to turn to in Georgia, Julia takes a mighty gamble and answers an advertisement for a nursemaid in wild Indian Territory—for the child of a man she knows nothing about. Together, she and five-year-old Lauralee waste no time as they flee to the safety of the new position Julia has accepted. She can only hope this move will be the start of a bright future for them away from Lauralee’s dangerous much older half-brother.

A rancher with no heart…

The death of Devlin Campbell’s young daughter has ripped the light from his life. Though the birth of his son, little Jamie, should have been a source of happiness, the subsequent loss of his wife forces Dev to ignore his emotions and trudge through life’s joyless responsibilities. But all that changes with the arrival of Miss Julia Jackson from Atlanta! Not at all what Dev is expecting in response to his ad, his resentment boils over at her failure to mention her tag-along niece—a painful reminder of the loss of his own little girl just two years earlier. Yet, how can he deny the sunshine Julie brings into his drab existence with her very presence?

Can love find a way?

In the depths of Dev’s boundless sorrow and his accompanying anger, is there room in his life for anyone else as Christmas approaches? Can Julie convince him that love is the cure for a broken heart, and hope is the only recipe for a new beginning between THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON…

EXCERPT:

The door banged open behind the three, a gust of icy wind howling in before the tall man who’d entered could get it shut.
Lauralee hugged herself and shivered, then ran to the blazing hearth to the warmth. She eyed the man warily as she crouched before the fireplace.

Julia turned the baby away from the cold, until she heard the door shut behind her.

“What the devil—” the man bit out savagely.

When Julia’s gaze shot to his, her heart sank. This must be Mr. Campbell, her employer. And he was bending the fiercest glare she’d ever seen on Lauralee, who cowered by the fireplace.

Julia quickly gathered herself. Over the past few years, she’d had more than her fair share of life-changing surprises. Her parents had been killed in a runaway carriage accident when she was ten. Her older brother, Jerome, and sister, Helena, had tried to hold onto the family’s holdings, but Jerome’s penchant for gambling had ended up landing them all on the street.

It hadn’t been too much longer before Jerome had been found in an alley with his throat cut—and Helena had had to marry quickly to give herself and Julia a home. Now that Helena was gone, Julia knew she could never be parted from her niece. Helena had provided for Julia when there’d been no one else—now, Julia would keep Lauralee safe from the world—including the likes of the very unpleasant Mr. Devlin Campbell!

“I assume you are Mr. Campbell?” Julia asked uncertainly, as she stepped toward him, extending one hand. She shifted Jamie to her hip. “I’m Miss Julia Jackson,” she continued primly, “up from Savannah way—your new nursemaid for young Jamie, here. And this—” she stepped to the side as Dev took her hand— “is Miss Lauralee Redmond.”

Lauralee, it seemed, had recovered, as well. She had risen to her feet, and stood glaring at the man, her hands on her hips.

He glared right back at her, barely sparing Julia a glance.

“We’re not the Debbil! You are!” Lauralee said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger.

Oh, Dear Heavenly Father… Julia’s throat constricted as she stepped forward. They were going to be tossed out into this blizzard for sure! “Lauralee—” Julia began, her heart pounding.

But silence filled the room as her employer took a step forward, causing Julia to lose her voice completely and forget that she needed to chastise Lauralee for her insolence to an adult.

Mr. Campbell hunkered down on the floor in front of Lauralee, studying her. Jamie kicked and smiled, holding out his arms to his father, but the man ignored his son, watching Lauralee intently.

“Well…I supposed you might be right about that, Miss Lauralee,” he finally allowed.



Have you ever had an appallingly embarrassing moment like the one Lauralee created for "Miss Julia Jackson" above? I've had my share, for sure! Please leave a comment to be entered in my drawing for a free digital copy of THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON!

THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON is available now for KINDLE, and is available in both digital and paperback as of October 26 (today!). It’s full of action, suspense, and of course, Christmas magic!

Here's the link to order THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON for your very own!

      

THE YOUNGEST COWBOYS by Cheryl Pierson

In the summer of 1909, two young brothers under the age of ten set out to make their own “cowboy dreams” come true. They rode across two states on horseback. Alone.

It’s a story that sounds too unbelievable to be true, but it is.

Oklahoma had been a state not quite two years when these young long riders undertook the adventure of a lifetime. The brothers, Bud (Louis), and Temple Abernathy rode from their Tillman County ranch in the southwest corner of the state to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Bud was nine years old, and Temple was five.

They were the sons of a U.S. Marshal, Jack Abernathy, who had the particular talent of catching wolves and coyotes alive, earning him the nickname “Catch ’Em Alive Jack.”

Odd as it seems to us today, Jack Abernathy had unwavering faith in his two young sons’ survival skills. Their mother had died the year before, and, as young boys will, they had developed a wanderlust listening to their father’s stories.

Jack agreed to let them undertake the journey, Bud riding Sam Bass (Jack’s own Arabian that he used chase wolves down with) and Temple riding Geronimo, a half-Shetland pony. There were four rules the boys had to agree to: Never to ride more than fifty miles a day unless seeking food or shelter; never to cross a creek unless they could see the bottom of it or have a guide with them; never to carry more than five dollars at a time; and no riding on Sunday.

The jaunt into New Mexico to visit their father’s friend, governor George Curry, took them six weeks. Along the way, they were escorted by a band of outlaws for many miles to ensure their safe passage. The boys didn’t realize they were outlaws until later, when the men wrote to Abernathy telling him they didn’t respect him because he was a marshal. But, in the letter, they wrote they “liked what those boys were made of.”

One year later, they set out on the trip that made them famous. At ten and six, the boys rode from their Cross Roads Ranch in Frederick, Oklahoma, to New York City to meet their friend, former president Theodore Roosevelt, on his return from an African safari. They set out on April 5, 1910, riding for two months.

Along the way, they were greeted in every major city, being feted at dinners and amusement parks, given automobile rides, and even an aeroplane ride by Wilbur Wright in Dayton, Ohio.

Their trip to New York City went as planned, but they had to buy a new horse to replace Geronimo. While they were there, he had gotten loose in a field of clover and nearly foundered, and had to be shipped home by train.

They traveled on to Washington, D.C., and met with President Taft and other politicians.

It was on this trip that the brothers decided they needed an automobile of their own. They had fallen in love with the new mode of transportation, and they convinced their father to buy a Brush runabout. After practicing for a few hours in New York, they headed for Oklahoma—Bud drove, and Temple was the mechanic.

They arrived safe and sound back in Oklahoma in only 23 days.

But their adventures weren’t over. The next year, they were challenged to ride from New York City to San Francisco. If they could make it in 60 days, they would win $10,000. Due to some bad weather along the 3,619-mile-long trip, they missed the deadline by only two days. Still, they broke a record—and that record of 62 days still stands, nearly one hundred years later.

The boys’ last cross country trip was made in 1913 driving a custom designed, two-seat motorcycle from their Cross Roads Ranch to New York City. They returned to Oklahoma by train.

As adults, Temple became an oilman, and Bud became a lawyer. There is a statue that commemorates the youngest long riders ever in their hometown of Frederick, Oklahoma, on the lawn of the Tillman County Courthouse.

GABRIEL'S LAW BY CHERYL PIERSON--NEW RELEASE THURSDAY!

I have another brand new release here at PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS I want to share with you today! This fantastic cover was created by Karen M. Nutt, with special tweaking by Livia, and it's perfect for the story of Brandon Gabriel and Allison Taylor. Take a look at the blurb:

When Brandon Gabriel is hired by the citizens of Spring Branch to hunt down the notorious Clayton Gang, he doesn't suspect a double-cross. When Allison Taylor rides into town for supplies, she doesn't expect to be sickened by the sight of a man being beaten to death by a mob. When Spring Branch's upstanding citizens gather round to see a murder, nobody expects to hear the click of a gun in the hands of an angel bent on justice. Life is full of surprises.

Brandon and Allie reconnect instantly, though it's been ten years since their last encounter. She's protected him before. As Brandon recovers at Allie's ranch, the memories flood back, and his heart is lost to her. He also knows staying with her will ruin everything. She's made a life for herself and her son. She's respectable. She has plans -- plans that don't include him. But could they?

Trouble is never far away, and someone else wants Allison Taylor and her ranch. Danger looms large when a fire is set and a friend is abducted. Allie and Brandon discover they are battling someone they never suspected; someone who will stop at nothing to destroy anyone who stands in his way. As Brandon faces down the man who threatens to steal everything from him, he realizes he is desperately in love with Allie and this new life they are making for themselves. Has Brandon finally found everything he's ever wanted only to lose it all? Can Brandon and Allie confront the past, face down their demons, and forge their dreams into a future?

An angel with a dream. A devil with a fast gun. Heaven on earth.

I'm giving away a digital copy of GABRIEL'S LAW today one lucky commenter! PLEASE LEAVE YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION IN YOUR COMMENT. If you just can't wait to see if you won, here's the Amazon buy link. It's also available at Barnes & Noble and other e-book retailers, AND it's also available in print!

BUY HERE AT AMAZON: http://amzn.to/1oaploz

STAND WATIE: A MOST UNCOMMON SOLDIER by CHERYL PIERSON

Only two Native Americans on either side of the States’ War rose to the rank of brigadier general. Standhope Watie (Uwatie), fighting for the Confederacy, was one of those two. Yet, what makes this accomplishment so incredible is the fact that while he was fighting for the Confederate States of America, he was also fighting other Cherokee tribal leaders who held opposing political views and very different visions for the Cherokee nation.

Stand Watie commanded the Confederate Indian Cavalry of the Army of the Trans-Mississippi. While the cavalry unit was comprised mainly of Cherokee, some Muscogee (Creek) and Seminole tribal members also served.

Born in Oothcaloga in the Cherokee Nation, State of Georgia, Uwatie (or Oowatie) was also known as Isaac. He was educated in a Moravian mission school. In his early adulthood, he occasionally wrote articles for the Cherokee Phoenix newspaper. The State of Georgia confiscated Cherokee lands in 1832 when gold was discovered, including the thriving plantation owned by Stand’s father and mother. Stand and his brothers, part of the powerful Ridge-Watie-Boudinot faction of the Cherokee council, stood in favor of the Cherokee Removal. Their signing of the Treaty of New Echota facilitated the removal of the Cherokee people to Indian Territory—what is now Oklahoma.

Another faction of Cherokees following John Ross refused to ratify the treaty signing. This segment was known as The Anti-Removal National Party. Members of this group targeted Stand Watie and his brother, Elias Boudinot, along with their uncle, Major Ridge, and cousin, John Ridge for assassination. Stand was the only one who survived the assassination attempt. Although Watie’s family had left Georgia before the forcible removal of all Cherokees in 1838, another brother, Thomas, was murdered by Ross’s men in 1845.

In October, 1861, Watie was commissioned as colonel in the First Mounted Cherokee Rifles. Besides fighting Federal troops in the States’ War, his men also fought opposing factions of Cherokee, as well as Seminole and Creek (Muscogee) warriors who supported the Union.

In 1862, Stand Watie was elected principal chief of the Cherokee Nation, through dissension continued among John Ross’s supporters.
< On June 15, 1864, Watie’s troops captured the Federal steamboat J. R. Williams on the Arkansas River off the banks of Pleasant Bluff near Tamaha, Indian Territory. The next morning, Colonel John Ritchie’s men, who were stationed at the mouth of the Illinois River near where the two rivers met, engaged Watie’s men as they attempted to confiscate the cargo. The river was rising, and they fought to a standoff. When Watie learned of the advance of Union troops from Fort Smith, Arkansas, (within about 40 miles), he burned the ship and much of the remaining cargo, then sank it. Watie surrendered a year later in June of 1865, the last Confederate general to lay down his arms.

In my debut novel, Fire Eyes, (recently re-released through Prairie Rose Publications) I weave this bit of history into my plot. The villain, Andrew Fallon, and his gang have come upon the site where the J.R. Williams was sunk four years earlier. Fallon speculates there could have been gold aboard, and sets his men to dive for it. As mercurial as his temper is, none of them dare question his order. Here’s what happens:

FROM FIRE EYES:

“Damn! I know where we are.” Dobie Perrin said.

Andrew Fallon turned in the saddle, glaring at Perrin, the afternoon sun dappling them through the leaves of the thick canopy of trees. “So do I, you idiot! So do we all, now.”

The secluded cemetery sat on a bluff, overlooking the Arkansas River. They had been wandering for two days, ever since retracing their steps to the first small creek they’d come to. The one Fallon felt sure would give them their bearings. Now, at last, he recognized where they were. He’d figured it out ten miles back.

“Tamaha,” Denver Rutledge muttered. “I was raised up over yonder.” He inclined his head toward the riverbank. “Over in Vian.”

“Then why didn’t you know where we were?” Fallon’s anger surged. “I am surrounded by idiots!”

“I shore ’nuff shoulda known, General,” Rutledge said apologetically. “Right yonder’s where we sunk the J.R. Williams. Rebs, I mean. Stand Watie’s bunch.”

Fallon jerked his head toward the other man. “Right where, soldier?”

Rutledge kneed his horse, coming abreast of Fallon. “Why, right yonder, General. It was in June of ’64. She was a Union ship, the Williams was.”

“What was she carrying?”

Rutledge shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Supplies, maybe.”

“Payroll? Gold?” Fallon fingered his curling moustache. “Could be anything, eh, Rutledge? But the Yankees were known to cache their gold profits in casks. Maybe that’s what the J.R. Williams was carrying. Casks that weren’t really supplies, but were filled with gold.”

“Could be, I 'spect.” Rutledge’s voice was hesitant.

Fallon nodded toward the river. “I think maybe we’ll try to find out.”

****
AND LATER, WILL THE HOSTAGES BE ABLE TO ESCAPE WHILE FALLON’S MEN ARE OCCUPIED WITH THE SHIP?

“What’s he doing, Tori?” Lily whispered. She moved closer to her sister. The night had turned colder, and the girls’ clothing was becoming threadbare and ragged.

Tori shook her head. “Fallon’s plumb crazy, Lily. Making his men dive for that ship! What’s he think he’s going to do if he finds it? Pull it up with his bare hands?”

“Or a rope, maybe,” Lily said innocently.

Tori didn’t say anything. She reminded herself that Lily was, after all, only eight years old. And she, at eighteen, knew how the world worked much better than little Lily did. At least Lily had stopped crying all the time. Now, Tori wasn’t sure if that was an improvement.

Lily sometimes scared her, the way her eyes looked hollow. Like there was no feeling left in her. Tori had no mirror, but her little sister looked like she herself felt. Older than she should be. And sad. But Lily didn’t seem to be afraid any longer, and Tori supposed that was a good thing.
Tori knew what Fallon intended to do with her and Lily. But the initial shock and fear of Fallon’s intent was overshadowed by other things that had actually happened. The violent deaths of their parents and younger brother, the endless days of riding with scant food and water, the bone-deep weariness that never let up, not even when she slept on the hard ground at night next to Lily.
She was responsible for Lily, now that her parents were gone. She squared her thin shoulders, her gentle eyes turning hard for a moment. She would protect her sister, no matter what.

Tori watched as Fallon ordered three of his men back into the water yet another time. Even if they could see what they were diving for, it would be too deep to reach. But the scene helped Tori realize just how unstable Andrew Fallon was. Once or twice, she’d caught herself thinking he was almost a nice man. He’d brought her and Lily a blanket one cold night. And he’d given them extra rations another time. But she knew he was not nice, not even sane.

Evil, was what Andrew Fallon was. Evil, and most insane.

She watched him, posturing and screaming at his men, who were so terrified of him that they were making fools of themselves trying to dive for an unreachable goal, a ship that may contain treasure, but just as well may not. A vessel that was impossible to get to, all the same. Especially in the pitch-black night. Lily leaned against her, her weight heavy with sleep. They sat beside a tree, their backs propped against the rough bark. The night was cool, and Tori had drawn the blanket close around them. She sagged against the tree trunk, her arm around her little sister, as Lily’s eyelids drooped.

I will be giving away a pdf copy of FIRE EYES to one commenter today! Just leave a comment with your contact info to be entered in the drawing.

To see all my work, go here:

https://www.amazon.com/author/cherylpierson

HELL ON THE BORDER by CHERYL PIERSON

It was said, "There is no Sunday west of St. Louis--no God west of Ft. Smith."


Indian Territory. A perfect haven for outlaws of every kind. They could run west of Ft. Smith where lawlessness reigned, where there were no consequences for any crime--until Judge Isaac Parker and his U.S. Deputy Marshals took charge.


By 1870, the Indian Territory had become a hellhole not fit for honest citizens. The last civilized gateway into the territory was in Arkansas--Ft. Smith.


The Five Civilized Tribes (Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole) who had been relocated to Indian Territory, had their own judicial system for the Indians of the Nations. But their courts had no jurisdiction over intruders who found their way into the Territory.


In 1875, President Grant appointed Judge Isaac Parker to what later became the Western Judicial District of Arkansas, including not only several counties in Arkansas and a strip along the Kansas border, but all of Indian Territory as well. The total area of the court's jurisdiction was nearly 74,000 square miles, with Indian Territory accounting for over 70,000 square miles of that area.


The lawmen, or the "Men Who Rode for Parker," numbered less than 200 at the outset. Only one carried the title, "U.S. Marshal." The rest were deputies. The marshal's salary was $90 per month. The deputies received no salary at all. They could arrest for any crime committed in the 74,000 mile area--with or without a warrant. They earned usually no more than $500 per year. Up until 1898, a fee system was in place that allowed a deputy to collect $2 for each arrest he made. In addition, he could receive 6 cents per mile for going to the location of the arrest, and 10 cents per mile for himself and his prisoner to return to court.


JUDGE ISAAC PARKER

No arrest meant no payment, and if he should happen to kill a suspect in attempting the arrest, the deputy was expected to pay for the suspect's burial.


After all the deputy's expenses were tallied, the U.S. Marshal deducted 25 percent from the total before he paid the deputy the remainder.


During the 21 years of Judge Parker's tenure, over 65 deputy marshals were killed in the line of duty. Some references list the number as high as 100.

MARSHAL BILL TILGHMAN

Being a U.S. Deputy Marshal was even tougher in real life than Hollywood could ever portray. The lonely existence these men led, riding out in search of desperate criminals over vast areas of land for a $2 arrest fee, is unimaginable today. The turnover rate was high due to the danger, the low pay, and the enormous amount of territory they had to cover. Weeks of separation from their families was also a deterrent.

MARSHAL CHRIS MADSEN

But the facts show what those deputy marshals did to bring Indian Territory back under the law again. Judge Parker tried over 17,000 cases during his time at the Western Judicial District of Arkansas--and there were never more than 200 men on the payroll to accomplish these arrests. Order could not have been restored without these men, willing to risk their lives to bring justice back to the wild borderlands of Arkansas, Kansas and Indian Territory.

MARSHAL HECK THOMAS

Kaed Turner, the "marshal" in my book Fire Eyes, is just this kind of loner to begin with--until he finds the love of a lifetime in a most unexpected place. In the excerpt below, Kaed is recovering from a brutal beating at the hands of a band of outlaws with Jessica's care. He's making good progress!


EXCERPT FROM FIRE EYES


The bath could be put off no longer. Kaed lay quietly, watching Jessica’s nervousness.

“Jessi.” When she looked at him, his bones liquefied. She wanted him. All question of how the night would end were answered as their eyes met and held over an achingly sweet moment.

Jessica sank her teeth into her lower lip, her fingers moving to the tiny row of buttons at the front of her day dress. She slowly began to work them open. “Kaed, would you, um, I mean, well, I need to get my bath now.”

“I suppose that means I need to at least turn my head.” His mouth was dry. It was hot in the cabin all of a sudden.

“Uh-huh.” She kept right on unbuttoning the buttons, caught in his gaze. “And close your eyes.”

Yeah, well it wouldn’t matter if he did, he thought. He’d still see the picture she burned in his mind as she stood there opening those buttonholes.

Her fingers hesitated at the button just above the rich swell of her breasts. Kaed wet his lips, not turning his head or closing his eyes.

“Kaed?” Her voice was a husky whisper. That made him close his eyes. The sound of his name on her lips had him imagining doing all the things that a man did with a woman. All the things that were soon to come.

God. The heat was unbearable.

“Huh?” He slitted his still-swollen eyes open and saw she had released that button and moved down to the next one. He gritted his teeth.

“Turn…your…head.” A teasing smile played about her mouth, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was imagining.

Turning away would be a good thing right about now. If he could only persuade his neck to cooperate.

“Yeah. Okay.” He turned his face toward the window. Sort of.
“I’m trusting you.”

Kaed sighed, frustrated. “I know.” It was the one thing she might’ve said that would have kept him true to his word, that part about trusting. He couldn’t betray that. “I’ve gotta move slow. Hurts.”

“Don’t—” The dress whispered to the floor.

“I won’t,” he gritted, the words bitter in his mouth. Then, he thought of something. “It’s hardly fair, though.” He heard the delicate splash as Jessica slipped into the water.

“What do you mean?”

He heard her trailing water across her shoulders and neck with the washrag, blissfully unaware of the effect she was having on him, and on a certain part of his male anatomy. He was aching for her. But he managed to make his voice casual.

“I mean, you’re going to help me bathe.”

The dribbling water stopped, and he heard her breathing quicken.
“Yes, I know. But I don’t need any help.”

After a moment the splashing began again. He imagined she was washing her hair. “Jessi?”

She didn’t answer, but he knew she was listening. He grew tired of the game. He wanted her to know what to expect. What was going to happen. To anticipate it as much as he did.“Jessi, I want you.”

It took everything in him not to turn and look at her as he said it, to see the expression on her delicate features. “I’m going to make love to you tonight.”


I'M GIVING AWAY ONE PRINT COPY OF FIRE EYES! PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION SO THAT I CAN E-MAIL YOU IF YOU WON!

If you just can't wait to see if you won, you can purchase FIRE EYES at B&N, Smashwords, and Amazon. Here's the Amazon link to all my work:
www.amazon.com/author/cherylpierson

www.prairierosepublications.com

Prairie Rose Publications Presents: The Half-Breed’s Woman by Cheryl Pierson

I'M GIVING AWAY A DIGITAL COPY OF THE HALF-BREED'S WOMAN TODAY! JUST LEAVE A COMMENT WITH YOUR CONTACT INFO IN IT TO BE ENTERED IN THE DRAWING!

U.S. Deputy Marshal Jaxson McCall tracks runaway debutante Callie Buchanan from Washington, D.C., into the unforgiving badlands of Indian Territory.  But once the sparks fly between them, can he bring himself to take the beautiful young woman in to face an attempted murder charge?

Callie's greedy stepfather, a powerful government official, has his own plans for her—a  fate much worse than jail. Jaxson must protect her at all costs—even if it means his own death—or losing his heart to “The Half-Breed’s Woman”.

Excerpt:

Callie stretched out on her bed, her thoughts scattering in all directions. She’d stayed here in Fort Smith too long. By now, she knew they’d be searching the entire country for her. But, maybe by coming west, she would elude the whole bunch of them. She sighed as she turned onto her stomach.

The hotel was nice, with a clean room and a comfortable bed. The people in Arkansas seemed so friendly. Much more so than in Washington. They wouldn’t be so friendly if they knew what she’d done.

Who would have thought she’d become a murderess before her eighteenth birthday? She had killed a man, but her stepfather had left her no choice. Not after the things he’d said to her.

Tears filled her eyes, and she flopped restlessly onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. A life for a life. Deep in her heart she knew Dunstan Treadwell had killed her mother. She just couldn’t prove it. And who would’ve believed her anyway?

Her stepfather was a very well-respected and influential man in Washington. He’d been in a hurry to marry her mother for her money, but Callie knew Treadwell already had run through most of it.

Did anyone else know? He’d kept it well-hidden. But, she was certain his gambling cronies knew what kind of financial distress he was in. That was why he was determined to—

She jerked her thoughts away quickly. Unbearable thoughts.

BIO:

Cheryl was born in Duncan, OK, and grew up in Seminole, OK. She graduated from the University of Oklahoma, and holds a B.A. in English. Cheryl lives with her husband in Oklahoma City, OK, where she has been for the past 29 years. She has two grown children, and a Great Pyrenees "granddog", Embry.

LINKS: 

Trade Paperback — Amazon Kindle — B&N Nook — Smashwords