from The Enchantress' Secret

John Cordova is a neighbor of the hero of my next book. A Yaqui and a Vietnam  veteran, with his own secrets, he is a friend that Nick will need.

The Enchantress' Secret should be available for eBooks the end of May or first of June.

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   Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. Nick rose and walked to it and ushered in an old man who looked faintly familiar to Denali. “Do I know you?” she asked before Nick had a chance to introduce them.

   “Ain’t seen you in a lot of years but yeah. I remember you with a lot of blonde hair at one of the deer dances, with your grandma and sisters.”

   “John.” She smiled. “I do remember you. Good to see you again.”

   “Maybe not so good. I saw the policeman here again. Didn’t want to disturb you two but got to worrying what that meant.” Nick poured them each a glass of wine, as Denali told him of the new murder.    

   “It’ll be in the papers tomorrow probably. Hopefully not with an arrest of a possible suspect.”

   “There any reason they’d suspect you?” Without telling him how he had found out, Nick told him that he had known the girl and where.“Oh yeah, that one,” John said as he sipped the wine, his eyes narrowing as he considered. He looked from Denali to Nick. “She was around here, lurking in corners, putting herbs above your door.”

   “I never saw that.”

   “You wouldn’t,” John chuckled. “I took ‘em down. Blasted little witch wasn’t going to get you that way.”

   “What kind of herbs?” Denali asked.

   “Let me think. Bay, cinnamon, rosemary, thyme, verbena. She left a potion once. I took it too. Threw it in the garbage.”

   “Why did you do that?” Denali asked.

   “Because she meant wrong by my friend. I wasn’t going to let her use the flowers wrong neither.”

   “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asked.

   “I knew you didn’t believe—so what would be the point?”

   “And you do believe in it?” Nick asked with disbelief.

   “Might. Just better not taking a chance. You know she took your picture too.”

   “No, I didn’t. I never saw her.”

   “Maybe she had an invisibility shield,” Denali suggested looking at John thoughtfully, “but you penetrated it.”

   John took a big swallow of his wine. “Guess I did.” He looked at her. “You’re a witch too. I knew that first time I saw you but the real deal, a good witch, one born to it, ain’t you?”

   She nodded. “As was my grandmother and great grandmothers. It is on both sides for my sisters and me as the one side has the Yaqui shaman magic. Like you”

   He smiled. “Powerful combination. Dangerous in the wrong hands.”

   “We understand that. Do you do magic, John?”

   He shook his head. “Not since… No.”

   “But you did once.”

   He looked uneasy. “Maybe but no more.”

   “But if there was a storm coming, you might again if the need arose.”

   The old man looked at her and then shook his head. “Don’t want to.”

   “I understand that. It’s a lot of responsibility but sometimes, it has to be done ... for good.”

   He sucked in a breath. “I’ll leave you two.” He looked back at Denali. “Glad he’s got you until he’s ready to understand all that he faces.” With that he was gone.

a rough draft

Yesterday I finished the rough draft of Bound for the Hills. I had begun the book 1/4/16 and finished it February 9, which meant 36 days (if I don't count the weeks or months ahead of writing where I am thinking and researching). 

Since a few writing days I didn't write anything, some I wrote five thousand words, a few maybe only a thousand, I don't have an average number per day (and have no intention of ever keeping track of that. This is one of the first times I actually know when I started and ended a book). I write what I get and usually that is several scenes, but I like to have time between events to think what might happen next. I am both a plotter and a pantser. I know where it's going but how it gets there, I find out a lot along the way.

Whatever the word counts, it was a lot of hours, but I feel good about the book. Next comes editing and roughly I am guessing the book will be out in March but not figuring on a date until I do the first edit and know how many problems I have. I put off my edits at least a week, usually more, to get some distance. Anyway, this is a snippet from early in the book. Again, remember, it's a rough draft which means it might change.

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     Ironically, it had been her last year in high school when two events changed her life. A friend loaned her one of the popular dime novels. She had snickered through it, at the same time she was writing a thesis on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Twice Told Tales. The praise for the book had come from the greats of Hawthorne’s own time, not the least of whom had been Longfellow, who stated the short stories and Hawthorne’s writing was “characterized by a large proportion of feminine elements, depth and tenderness of feeling, exceeding purity of mind.” 

     It was then that her mind had begun to spin with the possibility of merging the dime novel with the elements of classic plots and her own writing. She had to learn about guns and such, but she found them rather interesting anyway.

     A month later, she had sent off her first manuscript to one of the publishing houses, noted for the dime novels. A contract returned quickly, with an option for more. Was this her making or her downfall? In some ways, she thought, as she took another sip of sherry, it had been both. She had sold out the classics as she mined them for plots on which she spun a western tale.

     When requests came for the mysterious author, Will Tremaine, to appear at book signings or to give lectures on the West, her editor, Matthew Jefferson, the only one who knew there was no Will Tremaine, brushed them off with various excuses. Having these lusty, sometimes brutal westerns written by a woman would never do was his reason. She had her own.

 

Going Home

The weeks before a book comes out get a little crazy. There is the final edit-- one hopes, and writing of blurbs-- multiple writing of blurbs. Frankly it leaves my partner and me a little zoned out. Add to it that this is lamb and beef marketing time-- not a favorite for me but necessary. It'd be easier if we were more tolerant of feedlots and auctions. We are not. We want to sell direct or to someone who has an empathy with the animals. That takes more work and more craziness. It has to be done though as a rancher who sells no livestock soon is running a desert with starving animals.

On the writing and publishing end, this has been a crazy year. The poster above shows three historicals that are not yet out-- Lands of Fire and Bound for the Hills (#6 & #7 Arizona historicals) and Love Waits (#4 Oregon historical). 

This turned out to be a rather unusual year for how the books went. It seemed to grow in a rather organic sense-- at least that's what I'd like to think.

Having put off bringing out the Oregon historical series, written over a span of many years, I had decided, once I found the perfect image for its first cover, to bring all four out in 2015 at spring equinox, summer Solstice, fall equinox and finally winter Solstice. If I had stuck to that, the year would've been easier, but something else came along.

In late 2014, I got the idea for a novella--an elder romance, Rose's Gift. Rose and Ollie had each been in several of the earlier Arizona historicals. She was married. He was a dedicated bachelor. Her husband had died before Arizona Dawn. Still I hadn't really thought of these two together-- and then it was so obvious that nothing would do but to write their story. I had the rough draft done by Christmas but with multiple edits and all, it didn't come out until January 31, 2015. That was no conflict with the Oregon historical due out March 21st. It didn't even require writing another in the Arizona series-- except...

Holly Jacobs was introduced in Arizona Dawn and again in Rose's Gift with the idea of eventually writing a romance that centered around prehistoric ruins, archaeology, and reincarnation. I needed a hero, and he had been in one of my earlier books and a short story. Hero, heroine and a plot. I couldn't turn away from it.

The writing went smoothly although, I was by then promoting the first Oregon historical-- that has to start a month before a book comes out-- and continues on a long time after it. I could have let Echoes from the Past set for a year, I suppose, but I didn't. I brought it out August 5th... and then, well it turned out the hero had two other brothers, who needed their own love, and...

I won't go on with this as I am sure you can see how this thing snowballed. Writing has a way of doing that. So this has been the year of Oregon and Arizona historicals and not sure I will ever do something like it again. It was fun, if a little confusing for readers maybe.

If you have been following the Oregon historicals and read its excerpts, that book came out yesterday. Its paperback will be available sometime this week. Going Home.

With the blurbs mostly written, I am onto editing the sixth Arizona historical, which was a story I really liked writing (of course, if I don't like them, I don't write them). There really is no end in sight to the work-- not for awhile anyway.

more controversial than I figured...

When writing Going Home, I knew I was taking on some controversy when I had my hero fight for the South. This also is the most multicultural book I have written with secondary characters who are Chinese, Jewish, Native American, and half black and half white. What I did not expect was my own country again to be debating the causes of a war that was fought from 1861 to 1865. This was a war though that tore a nation apart and the healing didn't happen quickly even in far off places like Oregon. 

My hero, Jed, faced more than those who hated anyone who fought for the South. Eastern Oregon was caught up in another Indian War-- The Snake War was one of Oregon's most violent. This clip has three men discussing the current and previous situation. They sat on a porch in Eastern Oregon as night made them reflective.

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Excerpt from Going Home:

“Part of my crew are two Warm Springs,” Jed said as he watched the smoke rise. The moon had just come up and was casting an eerie glow on the other men’s faces. He supposed his also. “I wonder if they will feel safe to return.”

“They might not want to leave their people,” Rand agreed. “The Snakes aren’t any friendlier to peace loving Indians than they are to whites. Right now they want to wipe any sign of us from their land.”

“Again,” Adam said, “I understand how they feel, but I’d have to kill them also to keep my own safe and protect my land. I wish there was a better way for men to resolve their differences.”

Phillips looked then at Jed, met his gaze. “Sometimes there isn’t and yet here we are, sipping a whiskey, smoking, when a year ago, Jed and I would have been trying to kill each other. Rather ironic, isn’t it.”

“You expect the Indian conflicts could end up the same way?” Jed asked with a touch of disbelief even if he wished it to be so.

“Once there is a clear victor.”

“You expect there will be,” Jed said laconically.

“Eventually. Hard feelings or not, this is a problem of land. It seems unlikely to be settled short of a lot of dying. I may not like it, but it’s how the world has always operated. The military tries to make peace but again and again it’s undermined by those who want control. What do you do about that?”

“Peace is found in a cemetery and sent there with a bullet,” Jed said with some bitterness. Two of his brothers had paid the ultimate price as they had tried to secure their land. Just because it had always been that way didn’t mean it should.