UNDERGROUND TUNNELS AND WOLF CAVES: PART ONE – Elizabeth Clements #PrairieRosePubs

UNDERGROUND TUNNELS AND WOLF CAVES: PART ONE – Elizabeth Clements

The first week of September 2000 remains a memorable one for me even now, almost nineteen years later. It was the long-anticipated millennium year—thus, I wanted Doug and I to do something memorable to celebrate. A couple of years earlier I had started writing a new western romance—Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon, and I wanted to explore the site of the wolf caves that cattle rustlers had used to camp in while hiding from the law. I’ve been fortunate to have always explored the settings for my books. Hence, the research trip.

We had never been to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, nor had we ever stayed in a bed-and-breakfast. By the time we arrived, settled in and went out for supper, there was little else to do except decide which underground tour to take: The Al Capone Tour or The Passage to Fortune Tour as there wasn’t time to take in both. The Tunnels of Moose Jaw (website HERE) had just opened that summer. We registered for the Chinese tour, explored the displays and waited with two other couples. Soon, we were led down a flight of stairs to a small theater room to watch a short documentary.  

The film no sooner finished when suddenly a door flew open and a man charged in, yelling and calling us vile names. He ordered us to come with him. Startled and puzzled, we anxiously followed him into a dirt-walled hallway that led into a maze of corridors. We peeked into the area where a huge laundry operation used to be, then rooms used for sleeping and dismal opium dens where it cost a worker two days’ wages for a brief, drug-induced oblivion from this underground hell.

At times our tour guide was in character and other times he explained the function of each area. Then we arrived at the final destination. I remember it being a big, rectangular room with a long eating table, mismatched chairs and directly behind, three stalls with doors and buckets on the ground. By this time my heart ached, imagining the day-to-day misery of these poor, mistreated Chinese eating here and having stinking latrines behind them.

Giving us a moment, our guide said, “Now imagine what this was really like a century ago” and pressed a button. The room erupted into a cacophony of sounds: clanging pipes, hissing steam, rumbling machinery, the buzz of voices…. I went into sensory overload, imagining the steamy heat, the stench of the latrines, and the suffocating, very real, nostril-clogging smell of earth from the walls around us.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Gulping in fresh air outside, glad to be free and feeling guilty because the same couldn’t be said for those poor souls who had toiled for months, even years, under such intolerable conditions, I couldn’t get that horror out of my mind and it haunts me to this day.

In the late 1870’s, Ottawa undertook the building of a railroad to span the country. In the West, many Chinese workers were employed because they were cheap labor and were skilled in the use of dynamite to blast the railroad through the Rocky Mountains. After the Canadian Pacific Railway was completed, the Chinese remained, even began bringing their families from China.

Trouble broke out in 1908 at the CPR depot in Moose Jaw. Chinese workers were beaten because it was felt they were taking jobs away from Canadian men. The Ottawa government was forced to step in and quickly created a (despised) head tax to (hopefully) curb the tide of immigration from China. Thus, the persecuted Chinese feared for their lives and unable to pay the head tax for every family member, even babies, they hid in the underground tunnels of buildings owned by legal Chinese immigrants. They worked secretly underground, providing laundry service for the hotels in exchange for food, supplies and lodging.

Prohibition in the United States (and Canada) in the 1920’s brought further corruption to Moose Jaw because of its proximity to Chicago via the railroads and because of its ideal remote location. The corrupt police chief and reportedly all of his force aided and abetted Al Capone’s mob in gambling, prostitution and storing booze in the underground tunnels.

Illegal whiskey was smuggled in via rail cars and was unloaded or loaded through a shed in the rail yard that had direct access to a tunnel, which ran under the train station. The police chief (1905-1922) was so powerful that for twenty years not even the mayor could put a stop to his iron-fisted control. Apparently, the Chinese businessmen and the bootleggers were in cahoots, sharing the tunnels for their nefarious operations.

For 75 years the City officials denied the existence of these tunnels, which connected many downtown hotels and buildings underground in the previous century. Then one day a bus fell through Main Street, revealing a maze of tunnels, and the ugly truth was revealed about one of the “wildest frontier towns in the Canadian West”.

Picture-taking was not allowed on the tour, so sadly, I have no photos to share of the tunnels. The tunnels are open year-round. Perhaps this will entice you to visit Moose Jaw, which has a lot to offer visitors beside the tunnels. There is also an aviation museum on the outskirts of the city.

According to my research, these passages would have been built in the late 1890s to early 1900s. “Most of the tunnel structure would have been in place as basement rooms and access corridors for the steam engineers long before the major influx of Chinese to Moose Jaw. Some may have worked and lived in these spaces to avoid prosecution for illegal status or persecution because of race. The earliest use was as utility tunnels between buildings. The steam engineers who maintained the boilers constructed these access passageways so they would not have to exit one building to get to the next.” It saved time, but also was welcome in winter when temperatures dipped well below zero.

It’s never been confirmed if Al Capone actually visited Moose Jaw, but some of his mob hired young boys as messengers, paying them and even teaching them to play poker.

Moose Jaw was founded in 1882 due to it being chosen as a site for the Canadian Pacific Railway and by 1885 was a thriving town. Settlements along the CPR line quickly developed into permanent communities. The name Moose Jaw comes from a Cree name for the place, moscâstani-sîpiy, meaning “a warm place by the river.” The first two syllables, moscâ-, sound remarkably like “moose jaw”. Also, three creeks in the area, when sketched on paper, loosely resemble the jaw of a moose.

A popular attraction in Moose Jaw is the fiberglass moose statue. His name is Mac.

Creative Commons image - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moose_Jaw#/media/File:Mac_(86395457).jpg

On the ride home, I began writing a poem to help myself come to grips with what I’d seen and the misery it conjured in my mind. This is a terrible black mark in our history—yet another example of man’s inhumanity to man. Alas, I’ll have to save the wolf caves for my April blog.

TUNNELS OF TIME

                - Elizabeth Clements

"Be Off! Go Away!
Your kind aren't wanted here."

We died like black flies in autumn
Building your mighty railroad;
Treated worse than the deaf and dumb,
We staggered beneath our load.

Where will I go? What will I do?
I'm a stranger in your land.

Cold, heavy snow clings to my back,
The wind cuts through my clothes;
I seek a cave or empty shack
And a fire to warm my toes.

"Hey, you! Have you paid your head tax?
I thought not. Come with me."

Strong, brutal fingers clamp my arm
And shake me like a dog,
My heart thunders with alarm,
Despair creeps over me, gray as fog.

Why do you hate us so?
Beneath our skin we're all the same.

Struggling, I'm dragged against my will
Down a flight of wooden stairs,
An earthy stench near makes me ill;
I fall hard, but no one cares.

Why do you attack us and call us names?
An animal is kinder to its own.

Dim rooms swarm with shadows and I cry
For my people stooped with shame;
For years we’ve toiled, not seen the sky--
Can prejudice be to blame?

 Oh, no, what's to become of us?
I weep for the misery in our eyes.

Days blur into years without sunshine
In tunnels of endless nights;
"Coolies" can't complain or whine
Nor get pity from the "whites".

The stench of the latrines make us ill;
Pigs have cleaner sties than us.

Leaky water pipes hiss and steam,
Soiled laundry's piled sky-high;
Leaving this nightmare is our dream
So we can live before we die.

The opium lures me into oblivion--
Two days' wages is the price.

Deep despair mingles with my sweat,
My body's wracked with pain;
Three more years to pay off the head tax
Before I'll hold my wife again.

Amidst this madness, I caress your picture;
Your dear image keeps me sane.

Five years I've spent in this hell on earth
I've scrimped and saved my pay,
Made friends and shared moments of mirth,
Which sometimes saved my day.

An understanding touch or smile
Gives me strength to struggle on.

Despite the deep wounds carved by hate

My faith helped my soul survive;

While in my heart, the love of my mate

Got me through this hell alive.

Oh, pure sweet air and bright blue sky!
Freedom, I embrace you.

www.elizabethclements.com 

Here is an interesting article about the tunnels <click

Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon

Available on Amazon.com
Available on Amazon.ca

THE COLORADO COWBOY

The Colorado Cowboy could easily have been the Colorado Sheepherder. Sheep were the first 'commercial' animal in Colorado.

Santa Fe Trail near Ft. Union, New Mexico

In the book "Historic Ranching Complexes on the Pinon Canyon Maneuver Site" the authors state that ranching, specifically sheep ranching was brought to the southwest with the settlers from Mexico in the 1500s. It was sheep that formed the basis of ranching as the early settlers knew it. Other livestock were for personal use. It was the Churro Sheep that became the breed of choice due to its hardiness, meat and wool. https://goo.gl/images/bzu9LZ

These ranchers would move the sheep across the open range seasonally, usually penning the livestock at night for protection. In winter they would settle them near the rivers and/or close to the settlements. Where the high country range was used on a more permanent basis, rock walls and shelters were built to create wind rain blocks.

Even as late as 1879, sheep and its wool, which is a twice a year crop, were still popular. In Colorado Springs, one of the principal money earners was wool growing. The city directory shows a list of twenty-five stock growers vs thirty-five wool growers. What is most interesting about this list is the number of people who were doing both.

So where does the Cowboy fit into this picture? Columbus and other early explorers may have introduced cattle to the new world, but Colorado really didn’t see them until people started their journey on the Santa Fe Trail, which passed through the southeast section of Colorado. The Bent brothers, of Bent’s Fort fame, would trade one oxen for two worn out ones. Thus they built a herd of ‘beeves’. In the 1840s the Army order 500 ‘beeves’ from the Bents to supply Kearney and his Army of the West on their trip from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Comanche National Grasslands near Bent's Fort, Colorado

In the central Colorado plains, there is a mention of one man who had cattle as early as the 1830s, but not much more is known about he and his herd.

It was during the cattle drives from Texas through Colorado that the cowboy took his place in this state’s history.  The 1866 Goodnight/Loving Trail through Pueblo, then Denver, Colorado, was one of the early ones to enter the state. In 1867 Goodnight established a ranch near Pueblo, Colorado. The barn his ‘cowboys’ built in 1869-70 in the Pueblo region, still stands today.  Goodnight Barn  Goodnight-Loving Trail

A second trail, called the Potter/Blocker (Bacon) trail came through the eastern part of Colorado on their trip to Montana sometime around 1883. Not as well known and harsher than most, it traversed a drier and more unforgiving area for such drives. Potter-Blocker(Bacon) Trail

Today, Colorado still has cowboys and cattle grazing on the land. This legacy is traced back to the early settlers who braved this new country and left their mark. I will leave you with this quote from the book Century in the Saddle: The 100 Year Story of the Colorado Cattlemen’s Association, 1867-1967:

“The cattlemen who built the Colorado range industry in the later 1860’s and 1870’s were not all heroes, not were they all villains. However, there were both heroes and villains among them.     Essentially they were pioneers, with the foresight to see a future in the cattle business...”

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Member of National League of American Pen Women,

Women Writing the West,

Pikes Peak Posse of the Westerners

Angela Raines - author: Where Love & History Meet

For a list of Angela Raines Books: Here 

Photo and Poem: Click Here 

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

"Silver and Gold" - short story in A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe anthology by Kaye Spencer

My contribution to the new Christmas collection, A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe, is Silver and Gold. This story is set in South Park, Colorado in 1881. South Park is a grassland valley of about 1,000 square miles nestled at the foot of some of Colorado's 13ers and 14ers (mountain peaks 13,000 or 14,000 feet in elevation).

 Placer gold was discovered in South Park in 1859, which brought a 'rush' to the area. Just over the Mosquito Mountain Range to the west, Horace Tabor discovered silver in 1878 in Leadville.The largest town in South Park is Fairplay (current population roughly 600). From Denver, it is about 90 miles to Fairplay.

On Hwy 9 - Mosquito Mt. Range about 5 mi. south of Fairplay

On a side note, Fairplay is my favorite place. Although I live a good seven hours away on the eastern Colorado plains, I do manage to visit Fairplay every few years. Fairplay is home to the South Park Museum, which is an open-air museum of a collection of 19th century mining camp buildings in South Park that were 'saved' through historical preservation efforts (a topic I will pursue in a future article).

http://www.colorado.com/history-museums/south-park-city-museum

 Back to the story...

At it's heart, Silver and Gold is a story about coming to terms with your own disappointments and heartaches through helping others when their needs are greater than yours.

BLURB

Bad luck and wrong turns make up the greater part of ex-con Joe Halden’s past. When he learns he has a five-year-old son Joe knows he can do something right by giving the boy a decent home. But the only way he can save him is to employ the trade that landed him in prison—explosives expert. Sydney Allard’s heart is hardened against the townspeople she blames for her husband’s death. When a fire destroys the town near Christmas, Sydney wants to continue harboring her hatred, but her conscience won’t let her.

Two strangers share a journey of self-discovery. In this season of SILVER AND GOLD, the hurts of the past can lead to love if they open their hearts and give their trust to each other.

EXCERPT

[the town mayor is talking]

"When the messenger rode in with news of the fire, we asked about the snow up there. He said they’ve had the usual, but so far, nothing substantial. That means we have to go now—and get right back. I’ve arranged to have the supplies we wired from Denver unloaded at the Como depot instead of waiting for them to reach Fairplay. That way, we can just haul them back to Como and up to Boreas Valley.”

Syd couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Then hire freighters in Como! No one from here would need go at all.”

“We considered that, but we decided we had enough to donate amongst us, that we’d load up at the town hall in the morning and be on the road to Como by noon. We’ve rounded up a few buckboards and horses, but they aren’t draft animals. The buckboards can’t be loaded with much, or the horses will never pull the weight up the mountain. It’ll take twice as long, too.” He turned his hat in his hands as he thought it over. “I suppose if it comes to that, those of us who go can carry the supplies on our backs if the horses can’t make it all the way. We’ll just pray the lot of us don’t get caught in a storm before we can come down off that mountain and make it back here.”

Syd set her mouth in a hard frown. He was hitting below the belt, and he knew it. It was a tactic she’d known him to use with great effectiveness to get donations and cooperation from townspeople for any project the town council proposed or undertook.

“We’d appreciate the use of your mules and freight wagon. If you’ll drive the wagon, I’ll personally accompany you, or Claude and I will take the team. We know you’re more than capable, but if we had our druthers, we’d rather you stayed here and let us handle it.” He paused, almost turned to go, when an afterthought stopped him.

“You weren’t living here when Fairplay rebuilt from the fire of seventy-three, so you didn’t experience watching your life’s work and the memories you’d made destroyed right before your eyes. It’s a hard thing to start over from nothing with nothing. Shared tragedy brings people together. Forgiveness heals. Syd, all I ask is that you look into your heart for the compassion I know is still there. You may think it died with Newly and Lars, but it didn’t. It’s just been a little shy about showing itself. Well, goodnight. If I don’t see you before Sunday, Merry Christmas.”

When the door closed behind Barney, Syd excused herself and went to the kitchen on the pretext of fetching the coffee pot. It was the awkward silence and the questioning expressions she had to get away from. Barney’s words stung, and she couldn’t deny their truth. The protective barricade she’d erected around her heart on the rock-sturdy hate foundation built teardrop-by-falling-teardrop crumbled. Until moments ago, she’d reveled in the righteous blame she’d assigned to the faceless, nameless people in Boreas Valley. They’d earned every ounce of her animosity. But now…she felt her heartache and grief playing out like a gold mine stripped of its riches. Her greatest fear was once she relinquished her hold on her sorrow and anger, loneliness would rush in to take its place.

 A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe is available November 10th.

Until next time,

Kaye

www.kayespencer.com
Writing the West one romance upon a time

Ghostriders in the Sky and The Gunfighter's Woman by Kaye Spencer

My new release, The Gunfighter's Woman, is a paranormal western romance inspired by the old cowboy song, Ghostriders in the Sky, (Stan Jones 1948).

There are a plethora of recordings of this song including those by Vaughn Monroe, Bing Crosby, Frankie Laine, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Christopher Lee (the actor), Eddie Arnold, Peggy Lee, Gene Autry, Burl Ives, Sons of the Pioneers, Judy Collins, Roy Clark, Lawrence Welk, Baja Marimba Band, Slim Whitman,Tom Jones, Boston Pops Orchestra, Elvis Presley, Chris LeDoux. Blues Brothers,  Dean Martin, and my favorite, Marty Robbins.


The legend of the ghost rider has its roots in Europe, particularly Britanny, Ireland, Wales, Scandinavia, Spain, France, and Germany. Jacob Grimm of the fairy tales Brothers Grimm, developed the idea of the 'wild hunt' through comparative mythology that he published as Deutsche Mythologie (1835) "...as a folkloristic survival of Germanic pagan tradition, but comparable folk myths are found throughout Northern, Western and Central Europe...The Wild Hunt is an ancient myth of a spectral or otherworldly hunting party that sometimes appears at night."*

The Wild Hunt: Asgårdsreien (1872) by Peter Nicolai Arbo**

 The warrior-leaders most associated with some form and version of the Wild Hunt are Wodin, Wodan, Odin, Herne the Hunter, King Arthur, and Old Nick. A few modern works of literature that use the Wild Hunt myth as part of the story are Sir Artur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles, William Butler Yeats' 1893 poem The Hosting of the Sidhe, and Susan Cooper's 1973 book series The Dark is Rising. There are also comic books, movies, and operas with the wild hunt/ghost rider theme woven throughout or as the predominate story line. I've read that Ghostriders in the Sky was the inspiration for the song Riders on the Storm by the Doors.

I incorporate the wild hunt in the form of the cowboy ghost riders in The Gunfighter's Woman as a motivating force in the hero's life to change his ways. This story was originally published in 2006 as a novella, and now, nine years later and with a significant amount of plot added to the story, it is novel length with a deeper romance and a nastier villain. The ghost riders still want to claim the hero's soul, but he's not going down without a fight now that he's found the love of a good woman.


Blurb:

When beautiful widow Brenna Gérard comes upon semi-conscious gunfighter Matt Caddock, all hell is about to break loose. An unholy storm’s a-brewin’, and Brenna makes a split-second decision to save Matt from the spectral fire-eyed cowboys who forever chase the devil’s herd—and pick up lost souls along the way.

Once they reach the safety of the ranch, Brenna cares for Matt’s wounds and makes him welcome—no questions asked. But Matt must learn to accept the fact that Brenna is being guarded for a while longer by her deceased husband’s spirit—and he’s not leaving her just yet.

Though Matt and Brenna are fast falling in love, there’s the matter of a fortune in gold that stands between them—gold that Matt never wanted, but now must find and use to keep Brenna’s ranch from failing. Archer, an outlaw who Matt once partnered with, wants that gold just as badly—and he’s prepared to kill for it.

Can Matt settle the score with Archer and keep Brenna safe? And when the ghost riders return on the next lightning-laced storm, will they be taking Matt with them? Or will the love of THE GUNFIGHTER’S WOMAN be enough to ensure the future they hope for together?

Excerpt:

“Brenna!” Matt left the bed in one frantic heart-pounding leap, sending the bedside table crashing. “Brenna!” With a Colt clamped in his fist, he stood with his back to the far wall. Raking his gaze over every inch of the moonlit room, he searched the shadows and corners.

The door flew open. “Matt! What—” Whirling out of modesty, she put her back to him.

Matt made a catapulting leap onto the bed, snatched up his trousers, and grabbed Brenna’s arm on his way out of the room. Hustling her along through the kitchen, he hit the porch door with such force it wedged open and ripped the cheesecloth from the upper half.

Words came fast as he pulled on his trousers while clutching his revolver. “Someone… A man. There was a man standing at the foot of my bed. One second he was there and the next he was gone. Just gone. What in hell fire was that? Who was that?”

Brenna’s smile turned to giggles. “Gregory.”

Comprehension arrived on frowning silence. “But…he’s… Hell, you said he was dead. How could he be in that bedroom?” He shook his gun toward the door.

“That was our bedroom, and he died there. I changed bedrooms after he started visiting me in the night. I didn’t think he would return to that bedroom once he began rocking in his chair by the fireplace. Obviously, I was wrong.”

Matt stepped back, his gun arm lowering. “He rocks in a chair?” He blew out a slow, hard breath. “That’s plumb crazy.” Wagging a finger at her, he accused, “I think you’ve been alone out here too long. You’ve got a case of prairie madness.”

Brenna crossed her arms. “Then we’re both crazy. You saw him, too.”

Matt opened his mouth then clamped it shut. “Damn.” Shoving his Colt into the waistband of his trousers, he went to the edge of the porch and stood in the doorway...

Available on Amazon - KindleUnlimited and Purchase - The Gunfighter's Woman

I'll give away two digital copies of The Gunfighter's Woman from comments left on this post. Please leave your contact information with your comment, so I'll have a way to contact you in case I draw your name. I’ll keep this comment-to-win opportunity open until 6:00 p.m. MDT October 15th, 2016.

Until next time,

Kaye
www.kayespencer.com
Writing the West one romance upon a time

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Hunt
**http://www.athenasweb.com/MegalithicMyths.html

New from Prairie Rose Publications: The Comanchero’s Bride by Kaye Spencer

      My new release, The Comanchero’s Bride, is a western tale of love, jealousy, and revenge. The story was originally published nine years ago as a 40k novella, but even then as I finished writing the story, I knew there was a larger story to be told.  So, over the ensuing years, I wrote and rewrote the story, and expanded it to its current full-length novel edition that releases today with Prairie Rose Publications.

The story-behind-this-story has two components:

• It is a retelling of the Marty Robbins song, Meet Me Tonight in Laredo.
  AND
• The underlying themes of strength and sacrifice are based on the Germanic rune, Uruz.

So what are runes, and what are the lyrics to the song? Well, I happen to have a quick-read article about runes and Marty Robbins and their relationship to The Comanchero’s Bride. It's just a click away:

The Comanchero’s Bride – from idea to book

 What is the story about?

Beautiful heiress Elizabeth Bradford White is exiled to Texas with family friends until she “comes to her senses” and agrees to marry the prominent politico her parents have chosen for her. Grayson Beal is certainly not the man of her dreams—she finds him so revolting she welcomes her exile and makes a new life for herself in south Texas.

When she is approached at a fiesta by dark-eyed, handsome Mingo Valderas, she knows her heart will never be her own again. But Mingo has a checkered past—a reputation as a Comanchero, and a man who is as fast with his knives as he is with his gun. An ex-outlaw with many secrets, Elizabeth gives her trust to him, and their whirlwind courtship begins.

But Grayson Beal will stop at nothing to claim Elizabeth and her inheritance, along with the political influence her parents have. In a deadly cross-country race for her freedom, only one man stands between her and the monster who follows her. Fueled by their love and dreams of a future together, Elizabeth and Mingo stay one step ahead of Beal…but will that be enough?

Excerpt

In one long, powerful stride, Grayson towered over Elizabeth, shaking a thick finger in her face. “I have to be accepted into Denver political circles in order to gain some critical support in Ohio, and I expect you to do your part with entertaining the right people during our stay. You know these activities are vital for my political future. I won’t have it any other way.”

She batted his hand down. “Your political career is only important to you and my parents.” She clenched her fists at her sides, aggravated that she’d allowed herself to be drawn into conversation instead of walking away. It was fully dark and well past time to meet Mingo. “I have a prior commitment.”

Waving her off, Grayson said, “What you have is a duty to your family and to me as my wife, you missed—”

“I am not, nor will I ever be, your wife.”

He pushed right over her interruption. “You missed a gubernatorial inaugural dinner party in Columbus last winter and several other important events since then. I’m tired of making excuses for your absence. I won’t do it any longer.” He leaned forward. “So, congratulations. You’ve made your point. Now, it’s time to come with me and get on with the business of being my wife.”

Fuming, Elizabeth held her ground. “I’m not going to marry you, and I’m certainly not your political or social plaything. Don’t forget that it was you who convinced my father to banish me here. You sent me away from everything I knew—from all the things I thought I needed to be happy. Then I found out that not only do I not need them, I no longer want them. Listen to what I’m saying, Grayson. You’ve made the trip here for nothing. I’m staying in Laredo.”

“This is ludicrous!” His booming voice bounced off the walls. “Our wedding date is set and invitations have been sent.”

He loomed over her like large tree branches bending toward the ground in the raging onslaught of a violent wind. He was a formidable man when he wasn’t angry, and she’d often seen him use his physical size to intimidate people. Although she’d never once backed down from him, she now fought the urge to turn from his wrath.

Elizabeth drew herself up with every ounce of her courage. “Then un-announce it. I’m not marrying you. Not now. Not ever. I won’t—”

Grayson grabbed her, slammed his mouth on hers, crushing her lips as he lifted her almost off her feet. Struggling against the iron grip of his bear-like hands, she wrenched an arm free and slapped him with her gloved hand hard enough to knock his spectacles askew. Yanking out of his grasp, she reeled backward. Adjusting his glasses with deliberate care, he appeared outwardly under control, but Elizabeth knew he was seething, and would find some way to punish her for striking him.

“Had I bedded you a year ago, we would not be having this conversation. We’d be married, and there would be a child on the way.”

Until now, she’d never been frightened of him, only annoyed with his loutish manners toward her and everyone else he considered beneath him, but the lusty gleam in his eyes was new. A repulsive, crawling quiver skimmed along her skin.

She sensed movement behind her an instant before she heard the slight jangle of Mingo’s spurs. Whirling, she saw him in the middle of the room, feet spread, coat opened wide, and his eyes glowing with a dark, lethal fire. Grayson took advantage of her distraction and grabbed her arm. Jerking her back, he held her trapped against his body, and the more she struggled, the tighter he held her.

“Hombre, remove your hands from Isabel, or I will kill you where you stand.”

Recognition registered on Grayson’s face that Mingo didn’t wear his gun belt for show. Beal released her. Mingo motioned for her to move behind him. Grayson took his time looking Mingo over as he rubbed the deep red hand print on his cheek and smoothed his hair down.

“What is this Isabel nonsense? And who the hell are you?”

“Domingo Valderas.” His voice was level and sure. “If any man marries Isabel, it will be me.”

Grayson stared then burst into condescending laughter. “You? Good lord, man, you’re nothing but a Mexican—”

“Be careful with your words, pendejo.”

Buy Links    Barnes and Noble    Smashwords    Kobo    iBooks

Comment to win

I'll give away a digital copy of The Comanchero’s Bride to one commenter. Please leave your contact information with your comment, so I'll have a way to contact you in case I draw your name. I’ll keep this comment-to-win opportunity open until 6:00 p.m. MDT March 19^th, 2016.

 

 Until next time,

Kaye Spencer