Thursday, July 21, 2016

New Lou Prophet Book Now Available!


There’s a small war brewing in Carson’s Wash. On one side is the beautiful widow of the man Butters is accused of murdering. On the other side is the brutal saloon and mercantile owner, George Hill, who, Prophet is astonished to learn, is the widow’s own father! Phoebe Dahlstrom believes her father hired Charlie Butters to murder her rich husband, and she’ll stop at nothing to see both Butters and George Hill stretching hemp from the same tree.

There are so many factions at cross odds in Carson’s Wash, that Prophet doesn’t know which end is up, much less who’s trying to fill him so full of lead he’ll rattle when he walks!

From the book:

Standing naked in his tub now, Prophet aimed carefully and shot the third assailant through the man’s right temple. The man’s head jerked back sharply. Prophet heard his neck snap. The man plopped onto his ass and then onto his back and lay jerking near a dusty mesquite.
Prophet stood in the tub, dripping.
His own powder smoke wafted around him.
He looked around, gun still raised, listening for more assailants.
Footsteps rose beyond the front of the cabin. Turning around in the tub, Prophet exchanged his empty Colt for his twelve gauge Richards coach gun, and clicked both hammers back as he squared his shoulders at the front door.
Someone was approaching, walking now.
The footsteps stopped. Louisa edged a look around the door’s right side, peering into the bathhouse. She held a pretty, silver-chased Colt up high near her shoulder, hammer cocked.
Prophet depressed his shotgun’s hammers.
Louisa looked at the dead man lying near her, outside the front door. She looked at the dead man lying half in and half out of his bloody tub beside Prophet. She looked past Prophet toward the third dead assailant lying just beyond the washhouse’s back door.
She looked Prophet’s naked body up and down, glanced at the black water at his ankles, curled one half of her upper lip, lowered her Colt, and said, “You clean up right well, Lou.”
Prophet turned to the man who’d tried to give him a haircut. “I thought that hombre was sleepin’ just a little too sound!”

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Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Mean Pete's New Pal, Buddy

I'm going to write a complete essay about this fella soon. He came from Minnesota Aussie Rescue. He's had a tough first year, abandoned in the rural fields of Iowa. He doesn't like people much, but he does like cats and other dogs...and long walks in the country and swims in the lake. A good ole northern redneck, just like Mean Pete. We don't mind people, we just like them better when they're not around. I think of my last dog, also another rescue, Miss Sydney, every day. I lost her on May 9th to a stroke. I'm hoping Buddy and I will have a lot of good years together.