Tag: Western Romance

Tittle Tattle from the Banker’s Wife

On May 13, 2020

A report from teatime at the home of Mrs. Woods, Banker’s wife: Deadwood, SD, June 30, 1879

“I asked you all here to talk about our new schoolteacher and her sister.” Mrs. Woods leaned forward to whisper to make sure the women understood the importance of what she was going to say. “They boarded the stagecoach in Iowa and rode the rest of the way with me. I could tell they were lower class just by the way they were dressed in obviously homemade clothes. Why I heard there are ten children in their family. I would think their parents would know when to stop.”

“I hear she’s a very good teacher.” Mrs. Kincaid frowned. “I know my Thomas likes her and makes learning fun.”

“Hmph. I heard about some of her ways. Classes outdoors? Teaching needlework to boys and about bugs to girls? Why children should be taught by the rod. Memorization from the Bible is the best way to teach our young.”

Mrs. Kincaid set down her cup. “Have you seen what she’s had the older children do with their needlework? Why Thomas stitched the entire Lord’s Prayer. Sounds to me like she’s using the Bible.”

The other women nodded at Mrs. Kincaid’s comments. She needed to get these women and their husbands behind her to get an older, sterner man to teach their young, not some young, pretty thing that probably flirted with the older boys.

“Did you hear that as soon as Miss Lindstrom stepped from the stagecoach, Mr. Winson, owner of King’s Restaurant, had her on the ground and was laying on top of her? I’d say that’s a poor example for our youth.” She smirked at each woman. “Why, you would have thought she was destined for Al Swearingen’s brothel.”

“I was there.” Mrs. Kincaid said.

Good, it sounded as if the woman was on her side. Now to get the rest of them to see how improper the new teacher was.

“And I know you were, too, Mrs. Woods. So, you couldn’t have missed how Mr. Winson was trying to help her from the coach and that pack of dogs knocked them both into the mud.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“And being the gentleman he is, he tried to help her up.” Mrs. Kincaid sipped her tea, then set her cup on the matching saucer. “Have you ever had to step in that mess in the street? If you have, then you know how hard it is to extricate yourself.”

“But, then she and that sister of hers stayed at King’s Hotel.”

Mrs. Kincaid shook her head. “Where else were they supposed to stay? King’s is the only proper hotel in this town. Why didn’t you offer them your place if you’re so concerned about their virtue?”

The last thing she wanted was for two pretty young things to stay at her house. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know what her husband was up to while she was back East. Time to change tactics.

“Well, then there’s her sister.”

“What about her sister?” Mrs. Kincaid sighed. “I hear she’s an excellent seamstress.”

“Humph. Mending for the men around here is being a seamstress? I suppose you approve of men going out to their house to bring their clothes to her. And I heard some of those brothel women approached her at King’s asking her to sew for them.”

Mrs. Kincaid set her cup down with enough force to crack the saucer. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’d better learn the facts before you spread gossip. The men take their clothing to Haywood’s store. Then Sadie’s husband takes them to the Julia and picks them up when they are done. As for those women, I was in the restaurant, and I can assure you she turned them down.”

Mrs. Woods checked the watch pinned to her large bosom. She wasn’t making any headway. It was time to end this little tea party. “Needless to say, I’m going to keep my eye on them.”

“I’m sure you will, Mrs. Woods.” Mrs. Kincaid stood. “But I think your time would be better spent keeping any eye on that husband of yours.” She turned to her friends. “Come, ladies, I’m in need of some fresh air.”

About the Book

The Balcony Girl is the first book in “The Darlings of Deadwood,” series. It is a candidate for the InD’Tale RONE Award.

When Julia Lindstrom and her sister, Suzanna, made the decision to move to Deadwood, South Dakota in 1879, Julia never suspected that she would meet her future husband, secretly befriend the madam of a brothel, or jump in to assist when disaster strikes the turbulent mining town. Can she survive all three?

Daniel Iverson followed the gold rush to Deadwood back when it was in its heyday, only to discover gold prospecting wasn’t the life for him. Now working as a lawyer, a case falls into his lap regarding a rash of recent illnesses affecting the men visiting the town’s saloons and brothels. Is it a disease or something more sinister?

Will a secret tear them apart or bring them together?

You can buy it here.

Coming soon

The School Marm, the second book in “The Darlings of Deadwood,” is still a Work in Process. This is Suzanna’s story. It started out a short story in the “Wild Deadwood Tales,” anthology and is being expanded into a full-length novel. Release is planned for later this summer.

Suzanna Lindstrom travels as a school marm in fledgling Deadood. Having left her parents’ struggling farm, she dreams of a better life in Deadwood with a man who’s struck it rich in the gold fields. Fresh off the stagecoach, she meets Kingston Winson, whom she disregards as disreputable. Is he who she thinks he is? What lesson will she learn?

“Missing Ellis,” is a short story in “Getting Wild in Deadwood,” anthology. It is a time travel involving the characters from both books.

Buy Link: Getting Wild in Deadwood

About the Author

Tina Susedik is an award-winning, Amazon best-selling, multi-published author with books in both fiction and non-fiction, including history, children’s, military books and romances. Her favorite is writing romantic suspense where her characters live happily ever after with a lot of problems in between. Tina also writes spicier romance as Anita Kidesu. She lives in northwestern Wisconsin where winters are long, summers short, and spring and fall beautiful.

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Scandalous Doings in San Francisco

By Rue Allyn

On April 18, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

Dateline June 1870: Dear readers, we received the following from our correspondent in the former colonies. What follows is from the pen of a lady and world traveler who has never yet led The Tattler and its readers astray.

Dear Mr. Clemens,

It has been my pleasure these past few weeks to record my experience of the first railway journey from Boston to the San Francisco Bay. I most sincerely hope to publish those records as a part of the Teatime Tattler Traveler’s Compendium in the not too distant future. However, there is one tidbit too salacious to be held back for later publication.

During my excursion of less than a week to California, I shared passage with a wide variety of persons. One of the most intriguing was a Miss Edith Alden of the Boston Aldens. (No relation to the distinguished family of the Marquess of Alden.) Miss Alden claimed to be traveling to San Francisco to bring her sister home to visit with their ailing grandfather. Little did I know at the time that the sister was already notorious in San Francisco and that Miss Edith Alden would soon be almost more disreputable.

I joined her in the dining car for a late tea one afternoon, as she was perusing some papers. She hurriedly folded the papers and laid them out of sight beneath her reticule. After several minutes of lively conversation, Miss Alden excused herself for a few moments, asking me if I would keep watch on her things until she returned. I of course agreed. I’d been wondering since I sat down what was in those papers that she found every excuse not to discuss. She was gone long enough that I was able to read and thoroughly memorize (being blessed with that useful talent from birth) one of the papers which was a article recently found in a Boston newspaper dated early June 1870, and I quote:

In San Francisco, given enough money, any item can be bought and any crime hidden. The photograph above, smuggled out by a resident, shows the depravity of fallen women that runs rampant through the city, even at elegant addresses like that of Madame Cerise Duval. In a peculiar twist of fate, the photographer is rumored to have been murdered by one of the residents of the house. An unidentified blonde woman, with a distinctive scar on her left temple, is said to have killed Mr. F. Lyn Whitson and absconded with the man’s photographic equipment. The woman is believed to be somewhere in the San Francisco area and is being sought for questioning.

Person in this picture is reputed to be Miss Edith Alden
during her brief stay at Madam Cerise Duval’s bordello.

I returned the newsprint to its original position beneath Miss Alden’s reticule and proceeded to carefully question her–using a technique I call misdirection–about her sister. It became very clear in little time that the woman wanted for murder of the photographer was none other than the sister, with whom Miss Alden claimed to be traveling to San Francico.

I, of course, resolved to have nothing more to do with Miss Alden, although I did learn more of her from the papers during our subsequent weeks in San Francisco. I give you the following headlines from papers much like the Teatime Tattler.

“Businessman, Dutch Trahern wins right to deflower a Boston Virgin during an auction at the Bordello of Madam Cerise Duval.”

The drawing (see 1st image above) which accompanied this startling piece of news resembles Miss Alden to a Tee. In subsequent issues of the same periodical these headlines bear testament to the lax moral character of Miss Alden and her family.

“Formerly respected businessman, Dutch Trahern is discovered living in sin with the Boston Prostitute whose supposed virginity Mr. Trahern won in a bordello auction.”

A week later the following headline appeared. “Mr. Smiley of Trahern & Smiley Import & Export breaks with partner. Threatens to sue Trahern over issues of immorality.”

Sadly, Mr. Clemens, I was compelled to leave San Francisco on my way to Hong Kong by ship before the entire tale of scandal and salacious behavior could be told. It is my hope to be able, at some point to pick up the thread of Miss Alden’s adventures. Though I most sincerely doubt, despite rumors of her marriage, the young woman has much claim to even so modest and honorific as ‘Miss.’

Submitted with my kind regards

Your traveling correspondent.,

About the Book: One Moment’s Pleasure will become a lifetime’s passion when spinster, Edith Alden, embarks on a search for her missing sister. Pretending to be a rich bored woman looking for an interlude with an anonymous male Edith enters the San Francisco bordello where her sister was last seen. She escapes the bordello almost too easily, but she can’t escape the passion ignited by a stranger’s kiss.

Born and raised in the brothels of the California gold rush, Dutch Trahern worked for years to erase a childhood spent committing petty crimes and worse in order to survive. That past comes back to haunt him in the form of a woman he rescues from prostitution. Now his hard won respectability is threatened by an irresistible desire for a woman he shouldn’t want.

Available NOW for pre-order, release date Monday April 20,2020

About Rue Allyn: Author of historical and contemporary romances, I fell in love with happily ever after the day I heard my first story. (Yes, I was a precocious little brat who read at the age of two, but I could hear much earlier than that.) I studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. Heck, as an author, I get to read the story before anyone else. I am happily married to my sweetheart of many, many years. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler I love to hear from readers about your favorite books and real-life adventures. Crazy Cat stories are especially welcome. You can send me your words of wisdom . . . Don’t shake your head at me; all words are wise in one context or another. You can trust me on this; I’m an author. As I was saying, you can send your words of wisdom, humor, and friendship to me at Rue@RueAllyn.com. Can’t wait to hear from you. Keep up with Rue Allyn by subscribing to her newsletter and get a free copy of Knight Protector when you do.

Find Rue Allyn On Line: Website Facebook Twitter Amazon Goodreads Pinterest

The sheriff and the proxy bride

By Guest author

On February 19, 2020

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Mr. Clemens: Today we welcome Evan Irving, owner and editor of the Howard City Journal in Howard City, Wyoming.

Mr. Irving: Thank you for having me as your guest. I’m honored to meet you.

Mr. C: Always nice to meet another newspaper man and writer. However, I’m interested in learning about these people, Maeve and Luke Sullivan. Can you tell me how you met?

Mr. I: Luke and I met when he came to Howard City about three years ago. He hired on as a deputy sheriff. Everyone was impressed with his dedication to duty. He proved himself when the bank was held up and he helped our sheriff apprehend the robbers. When the sheriff decided to retire, Luke was the obvious choice to take over.

Mr. C: What about his wife?

Mr. I: She was a proxy bride arranged by his aunt and his mother, who are sisters. Luke had already sent for his mother, who worked as a cook at the Sunshine Boarding House. I can tell you, the food has made remarkable improvement since she’s been here. I digress.

After his uncle’s death in Boston, Luke and his mother wanted to bring the aunt here to live. Now Luke’s dad isn’t dead, he’s an officer on a sailing ship dealing in imports and exports. He sends home most of his wages for the mother to save for their retirement. In a couple of years they plan to buy a nice cottage with a plot for a garden.

Mr. C: You’re digressing again.

Mr. I: Oh, yes, sorry. Maeve worked with the aunt in a laundry. She’d come from Ireland hoping for a better life. Did not find it. The aunt and Luke’s mother conspired to marry Maeve and Luke by proxy. Was he ever mad when he found out he had a bride on the way. Worse, Maeve’s fare was paid for by none other than his own mother from her retirement savings. He’s a good man, though, and consented to keep up his end.

Mr. C: They got their happy ever after, eh?

Mr. I: Eventually, you see both of them are strong people used to ruling their own lives. That made for some interesting conversations. Maeve helped him capture a wanted man so she received enough reward to repay her mother-in-law. Then, there were the threats.

Mr. C: Don’t stop there. What kind of threats, man?

Mr. I: The railway and the miners were about to have an explosive situation. I couldn’t see how it could be resolved without violence. Howard County and Howard City don’t have strong leadership. Solving the problem was up to Luke—although many of us were backing him. I suggest you read A BRIDE FOR LUKE to learn more.

Mr. C: Well, ahem, I don’t have a lot of time, you know, with all my correspondence and my own writing. I suppose I can make an effort this time. Thank you for coming, Mr. Irving.

Mr. I: My pleasure, Mr. Clemens.

A Bride for Luke

Each is struggling to build a better life . . .

Two strong-willed people are bound to clash . . .

Danger forces them to focus on what is at stake . . .

Maeve Kelly came to America for a better life but found only signs that said No Irish Need Apply. When the cousin with whom she is staying leaves Boston, Maeve is left desperate. Her job at the laundry doesn’t pay enough for her to survive alone. Her friend suggests a way out, Maeve resists but finally accepts. What else can she do?

Sheriff Luke Sullivan is proud of his accomplishments. Known for his strong principles, he is admired and well-respected in the community. When he learns his mother and aunt have schemed to get him a proxy bride he’s furious. If he’d wanted a wife he would have found one. He respects and loves his mother and finally agrees to the marriage. Before he and his bride can adjust to one another, Luke is caught in the middle of an explosive situation between striking miners and the railroad.

Threats against Luke by each side have him fearing for the safety of his wife, mother, and aunt. He must resolve the strike to protect his family and many others. Will he succeed in time to save lives?

Universal Amazon Link: http://mybook.to/Maeve

Excerpt:

He pushed back from the table. “How can I keep you safe if you don’t follow orders? Do you understand?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Oh, so it’s orders you’re giving me, is it? Weel, Lucas Brady Sullivan, I take orders from no man. Do you understand?”

“Mae, you’re making something from nothing.” He tapped his chest. “I’m your husband. You promised to obey me when we wed.”

That brought her temper down a notch. She had promised and Father Patrick had lectured her on the husband being the head of the household. “Mayhap I did, but not high-handed orders.”

“And what would you consider obeying? You want a written invitation to remain home? Shall I show you the other wanted poster and suggest you avoid that man? You’ve no idea what these other men look like so how would you know if they were walking down the street or shopping in the Mercantile? How can you know who’s an upstanding citizen and who’s a stranger in town? You were in front of the Mercantile when Higgins accosted you.”

She turned toward the sink, hands on her face to hide her shame. “Aye, ‘tis sorry I am. The worry of what’s going to happen has me in bits. I can’t get out of my mind the fact someone may shoot at you from an ambush.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t fret, honey. I’m doing my best to keep this situation from becoming violent. I can’t focus on my job if I’m worried about where you are and what you’re doing and who’s around you.”

She leaned her head against his broad chest. His strong heartbeat reassured her. “I see the way I was wrong. ‘Twas my mistake and ‘tis sorry I am.”

She looked up at him. “But, for us to have a peaceful marriage you’d best consider making requests instead of giving orders.”

About the Author

Through a crazy twist of fate, Caroline Clemmons was not born on a Texas ranch. To compensate for this illogical error, she writes about handsome cowboys, feisty ranch women, and scheming villains in a tiny office her family calls her pink cave. She and her Hero live in North Central Texas cowboy country where they ride herd on their three rescued indoor cats and dog as well as providing nourishment outdoors for squirrels, birds, and other critters.

The books she creates in her pink cave have made her a bestselling author and won awards. She writes sweet to sensual romances about the West, both historical and contemporary as well as time travel and mystery. Her series include the Kincaids, McClintocks, Stone Mountain Texas, Bride Brigade, Texas Time Travel, Texas Caprock Tales, Pearson Grove, and Loving A Rancher as well as numerous single titles and contributions to multi-author sets. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, reading her friends’ books, lunching with friends, browsing antique malls, checking Facebook, and taking the occasional nap. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Google+, and Pinterest.

Join her and other readers at Caroline’s Cuties, a Facebook readers group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/277082053015947/ for special excerpts, exchanging ideas, contests, giveaways, recipes, and talking to like-minded people about books and other fun things.

Click on her Amazon Author Page for a complete list of her books and follow her there.

Follow her on BookBub.

To stay up-to-date with her releases and contests, subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter here and receive a FREE novella of HAPPY IS THE BRIDE, a humorous historical wedding disaster that ends happily—but you knew it would, didn’t you?

She loves to hear from readers at caroline@carolineclemmons.com

A Dispatch From the Headstone Gazette

By Guest author

On October 16, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

By A Concerned Citizen Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous

Glory be! A body must keep their ears to the ground in this part of the country. Otherwise, an innocent bystander, such as myself, might miss one of the never-ending scandals plaguing our small town — the latest of which is festering over at the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Agency.

Just this evening, one of the brothers (who co-owns the agency) arrived by train with their latest mail-order bride candidate on his very arm. On Jordan Branson’s very arm, dear citizens! According to my sources, her name is Olivia Rothschild, and she’s a shipping heiress from Boston. Now, why in heaven’s name a young woman of her vast wealth would be searching for her perfect match via the mail, is entirely beyond me! But those are the facts, my friends.

After asking a few discreet questions around Headstone, I also learned this stylish young debutante was rumored to be courting the matchmaker, himself, throughout their lengthy journey to Arizona. Oh, the horrors! To the best of my knowledge, all of this occurred without the oversight of a proper chaperone, such as a family member, a widow from church, or the like. Albeit, Miss Rothschild seems to be traveling with quite the entourage, to include no less than four individuals: her man of business, her personal maid, her chef, and a young man purported to be her chef’s younger brother — a groom-in-training or some such nonsense.

To make matters worse, one of our very own — a local rancher’s wife who has requested to remain unnamed — arrived on the same train after an extended visit to her ailing cousin back east. She claims there is a horrid rumor making its way around Boston that a certain Miss Rothschild had no choice but to flee the city or face utter ruin. If the rumor is to be believed, the high-flying debutante was witnessed sharing a kiss with the cousin of a most-eligible marquis. Alas, the two young men are not only known as capital pranksters, but they could also pass as twins. Some suspect that Miss Rothschild and her guardian might, in fact, have been plotting to entrap the marquis into marriage. If such were the case, their plot went seriously awry the moment the marquis’ rakish cousin intercepted her kiss!

Upon further investigation, I learned that Miss Rothschild and Mr. Branson have an “understanding,” one apparently that his own brother, Colt Branson does not approve of. He would have preferred his younger brother to follow agency protocol and match their latest mail-order bride with the next hopeful groom on their waiting list. Oh, the irony! Instead, it looks as if we have a case of a matchmaker falling into one of his own velvet traps.

Be assured, I will keep an eye on this developing story and report back the moment I have another juicy tidbit to share.

About the Book

Olivia Rothschild has made yet another mistake. She tries to follow the advice of her social climbing Aunt Beatrice, but she never quite plays the game of a debutante to her guardian’s satisfaction. This time, she’s kissed the wrong man — in plain view of her biggest rival, no less, who can’t wait to spread the scandalous tale. According to her aunt, she must marry the man with haste or face complete ruin.

Jordan Branson and his brother run a vastly successful mail-order bride business, but sometimes he grows a tad weary of arranging everyone else’s happily-ever-afters and never his own. He’s in just one of those moods when the wealthy heiress, Olivia, wanders into his office, utterly distraught at what her life has become after the loss of her parents. She’s desperate for a fresh start, far from the jaded social whirl of the big city.

After a short interview, he decides any man with red blood running through his veins would be overjoyed to court a woman of her wit, kindheartedness, and beauty. However, he finds himself in no terrible hurry to marry her off to the next would-be groom in line. Perhaps a compromise might be in order — one that requires him to hold off selecting her perfect match until her arrival in Arizona. He takes it a step farther and personally accompanies her since he has business in that direction, never imagining what perils of the heart the gesture would set in motion.

Available in eBook on Amazon + FREE in Kindle Unlimited at
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07YF13Q8Q
Coming soon to paperback!

Excerpt~

“Good. Let us at least shake on it tonight.” Without waiting for a response, Miss Rothschild reached for his hand.

Jordan was so surprised by the feel of her warm fingers curling around his that he acted on pure male instinct. He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips. “I give you my word, Miss Rothschild. I’ll get you safely to Arizona. There you will help me renew my search for my sister while I commence a search for your perfect match.”

Her answering smile warmed the darkest, loneliest corners of his heart. He should have recognized it for what it was — the smile of a spoiled, indulged debutante who’d once more gotten her way.

Instead, for the first time in a very long time, he foolishly tasted hope.

About the Author

Jo writes sweet historical and contemporary romance stories — with humor, sass, and happily ever-afters.

A typical day finds her with her laptop balanced on her knees, a fizzy beverage within reach, and a cat snoozing on her knees. He takes credit for most of what she does.

When Jo’s not writing stories, she’s reading them. She adores dashing gentlemen, resilient heroines with a sense of adventure, humorous sidekicks, dusty cowboys, bounty hunters, mail order brides…you get the idea.

She loves to visit with readers in her Cuppa Jo Readers group on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/CuppaJoReaders/.

To receive a personal email about each book she publishes, join her New Release Email List at JoGrafford.com or follow her on BookBub at https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jo-grafford.

Plus you can read free chapters of many of her books on Wattpad.com/user/JoGrafford.

Dispatch From the Gold Fields

By Caroline Warfield

On January 24, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory

Dear Mr. Clemens,

Wyoming Gold Fields Western Romance Here is the report you requested. Of late, I’ve been exploring the rumors of gold to be found in the Wyoming territory of the former colonies. While the rumors are true, the location of the gold fields is on lands belonging to the Sioux nation. Relations are hostile between these aborigines and the somewhat more civilized government of the United States of America. In addition, the area of the gold fields, known as the Black Hills, is exceedingly difficult to access. Thus, few white men and fewer white women have traveled through the place. I have determined to do so, myself. Not for greed of gold, but for greed of experience. I have never denied my eagerness to see what is around the next corner, tree, rock, or river bend. Be that as it may, I am currently in the boomtown of Cheyenne seeking a guide of good reputation to shepherd my little party [Yes, despite her megrims, my maid Analisa is still with me, but more of her peccadillos at another time.]

To continue, I have interviewed a number of guides only one of whom has proven suitable. The first was a shifty-eyed drunk whom I would not allow within my chambers. The second, a Mr. J. Bridger, is a quite famous mountain man. He was sober and very entertaining, but his English is so poor I could scarcely understand him. Heavens, the man could not even read. Nor was his hygiene acceptable.

The third man, Mr. W. Hickock is also quite famous. He is very colorful wearing pistols holstered on each hip and having long, locks of hair, which were kept scrupulously clean, unlike Mr. Bridger. I had almost agreed to accept Mr. Hickock’s services despite his exorbitant fees when the most unruly and oddly dressed female I had ever seen burst into the room and drew her pistol, holding me and Mr. Hickock at gunpoint.

“Y’ ain’t a goin’nowheres without me Bill,” the woman stated. “And I ain’t a lettin’ y’ dilly dally with some hoity toity female foreigner. ‘Til I sez otherwise, I’m the onliest woman whose skirts y’ kin lift.

Did I mention that this creature wore men’s pants and a fur covering that looked as if it had once been part of a bear? I bristled at being called hoity toity by anyone of such obviously low stamp, to say nothing of the idea that I might ‘lift my skirts’ for any strange man. Before I could issue the set down this woman deserved. Mr. Hickock was on his feet, nobly placing his body between me and the pistol’s line of fire.

“Now Jane,” he said in a tone used to sooth wild animals. “You know I wouldn’t try to two-time you or any woman to whom I commit myself.”

“I know nothin’ of the sort, and won’t ‘til y’ agree t’ marry me.”

“I’m already married, Jane, as you are well aware.”

“Don’t keep you from cattin’ around with saloon dancers and squaws.”

Mr. Hickock cast a glance at me and could see I was less that pleased over what I’d heard and seen. I shook my head at him. He sighed and picked up his hat, then took Jane by the arm and escorted her from the room.

I have discovered that very few words are needed in this part of the world to convey significant information. Mr. Hickock perceived correctly that I would not be needing his services in any capacity. Yet he was kind enough to send another guide for me to interview.

This character, one Skinner Jones, I might have rejected instantly. Jones personal hygiene looked and smelled no better than Mr. Bridger’s. However, the educated speech that came from Jones’s mouth roused my interest, so I invited my guest to share tea with me as we discussed the possibility of escort from Cheyenne to the Black Hills.

Jones, despite all appearances and scents, was surprisingly erudite. Our conversation ranged from the Souix and their situation, to life on the Wyoming trails, and from there to the exigencies of my own travels. We discussed Dickens, Milton, and Shakespeare. I was introduced to new authors such as Poe, Melville, and Clemens. (Hence my communication started with that last author as a result of reading some very entertaining tales written under the pen name of Mark Twain.)

Not only was Jones an educated, well-spoken, and entertaining conversationalist, the guide exhibited a startling degree of comfort with proper conduct during a tea service. When I probed for more of Jones’s background, the guide became evasive and skillfully re-directed my questions. In another person, say of Mr. Bridger’s ilk, I might have become wary enough to decline that person’s escort. However, the combination of Jones’s manners, obvious erudition, and skillful handling of the most probing questions sparked my curiosity.

By the time we had finished our tea and conversation began to lag, I had made up my mind. I offered Jones the job. The guide would accept only if I chose to avoid the Black Hills and would be willing to travel to other safer locations in the territory. Jones guaranteed me I would not be disappointed. A description of Lake Yellowstone, the Wind River, and an area called Smoke Valley intrigued me so much that I was eager to dispense with any plans to visit the black Hills. There was one other item which decided my cooperation with Jones’s plans. Throughout our conversation, I observed that Jones behaved more like a female—the handling of cups and saucers, a certain delicacy of conduct when eating the cakes and drinking the tea, and a number of very subtle mannerisms that, in this wild western environment, perhaps only another delicately raised woman might recognize. What in the world was such a woman doing masquerading as a teamster? How had she come by the skills to, as is said in the west, ‘skin mules’ and earn the regard of men such as Mr. Hickock?

I had to know the answers to these questions and more. When I do, I shall write them down and if I obtain Jones’s permission will seek to publish the Legend of Skinner Jones. In the interim, I will be able to continue sending to the Tattler small tidbits detailing my adventures in Wyoming in the company of Skinner Jones.

About the Book

One Night’s Desire, Historical Western Romance (1870 Wyoming)

A WOMAN ON THE RUN ~ Rustlers, claim jumpers and fire, nothing will stop Kiera Alden from reuniting her family. But an accusation of murder threatens her dreams and sets Marshall Evrett Quinn on her trail. She may be able to escape prison bars and eventually prove her innocence, but she can’t escape Quinn’s love.

A LAWMAN IN HOT PURSUIT ~ Marshall Evrett Quinn is relentless in pursuit of law-breakers, and pretty Kiera Alden is no exception. Clever and courageous, she evades him until chance encounter turns the tables. Finally, he has this elusive desperado under arrest, but success is bittersweet when she captures his heart.

Buy Links for One Night’s Desire:

Amazon–http://www.amazon.com/Nights-Desire-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00DL3ALFC/
B & N–http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-night-s-desire-rue-allyn/1115916242?ean=9781440567186
Crimson Romance–http://www.crimsonromance.com/historical-romance-novels/one-nights-desire/
Kobo–http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/one-night-s-desire

Excerpt

You can read an excerpt of One Night’s Desire here http://rueallyn.com/2c2ONDexcerpt.html.

About the Author

Rue Allyn is the award-winning author of Historical, Contemporary and erotic Romance. When not writing, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at contact@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.

Social Links:

FB–http://www.facebook.com/RueAllynAuthor/
Twitter–http://twitter.com/RueAllyn
Amazon–http://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI

I had a terrific time today providing some of my research on my current work in progress, tentatively titled The Legend of Skinner Jones. This book tells the story of Boyd Alavarez and Elise Van Demer, two secondary characters from One Night’s Desire ~ Wildfire Love Book 2. The action of the Skinner Jones story takes place a few years after that of One Night’s Desire. Here’s a little more information about that book.