Just as a I promised a while ago, here is a sneak peek from the 2nd installation of Miners' Cut Mysteries, Iron Fists in Satin Gloves". This is the prologue. Hope you enjoy.....
Prologue
The
sun began its slow descent from the Colorado sky. The day seemed to
go on forever. John sat atop his palomino, Taffy, and took it all
in: land spreading out far and wide in all directions, surrounded by
the crags and peaks of the San Juan Mountains.
Sixteen-year-old
John Archer was the man of the house...at least for now. He hated
watching his mother these days. She was so sad. So pale and thin.
Though she tried to pretend life was good, he knew differently.
This
big old ranch had never been his father's first choice of a place to
be. He favored the open sea with its salty air, waves crashing on the
sides of his clipper ship, The Colorado Maiden. The duties of the
ranch were always passed to the family members left behind while he
roamed to the far ends of the earth searching for some bauble or
trinket his import and export business couldn't live without.
John
assumed the title “Man of the House” at an early age. Sure, in
the beginning it was his mother's endearing way of building his
confidence during his father's long absences. But now, he feared the
title would stick. He carried a big weight on his young shoulders.
He
harbored the resentment he'd carried since childhood that began as a
small seed planted whenever his father left, and morphed into a
bitterness he seemed helpless to overcome. Try as he may, he carried
more angst than worry over the disappearance of his dad. It'd be
just like him to turn and hightail it in the other direction. He'd
rather be anywhere than here. Shame on me for falling for his words.
I can't believe I was so stupid!
And so it began. A
transformation. Although a part of him ached for the love of his
father, the part that harbored ill will was greater, more powerful.
He was determined to keep this ranch afloat come hell or high water.
The palomino on which he
sat was his father's favorite. Over the last several months he'd
taken to riding her daily. Especially in the late afternoon, like
today. He rode her to this place and allowed her to drink her fill
from the cold mountain stream that passed through their property. She
was a beautiful creature..majestic in a way only palominos can be,
yet friendly and gentle. The bond between them was unmistakable; no
one dared interfere with their time together.
Because of the dilemma
the Archers found themselves in, John was forced to assume duties
typically believed to be the responsibility of a seasoned ranch
manager. Soon the choice would be made whether or not he'd continue
in school or stay home and work the ranch. His little brother, Timmy,
was beginning to do some chores, but to John's way of thinking, he
was just a little kid and needed to be a kid for as long as he could.
His own childhood was stolen long ago by all the responsibility
handed him at the ripe old age of nine.
He
climbed down from the horse and held her reins as she drank from the
stream. John watched the rushing flume as it cascaded over rocks and
white-capped, splashing on larger boulders closer to the bank. Today
had been a hot one in the valley. He looked around to see if he was
alone. Of course no one's here. Who would be here?
Chuckling to himself, he sat down on a boulder and removed his boots
and socks. He stuck his feet in the chilly water.
“Cold! That water's so
cold!” He forced himself to leave his feet immersed in the crystal
clear stream. Before long he grew used to it, knowing full well his
feet were just numb. He closed his eyes. He was so torn. He'd
anguished the past three months over Simon. Where was he? Why didn't
he come home? Was he hurt? He didn't know whether to hang onto the
anger that fueled his adrenaline or let it go and see how that worked
for him. His mother kept saying “God will show us the way!” She
even said God knew where Simon was so he wasn't lost at all.
Thinking of it now, he just wagged his head, wondering at her
profound childlike faith.
___________________________________________________________________
John opened his eyes. He
wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in the grass with his feet in
the water. He must have fallen asleep. The horse was no longer
drinking. In fact, she was staring down at him, patiently waiting.
“How long have I been
out, girl?”
She whinnied as if
in delight, giving him the gumption to get up off the ground and get
moving. It was growing darker by the minute and he must hurry home.
Just then he heard a crackling sound to his left. “Who's there?”
No answer. He craned his neck. “I say, who's there?” He slowly
inched his socks and boots back on before mounting his ride. From a
higher vantage point he continued to search for the origin of the
sound. Finally deciding to move on, he reined the horse toward home
just as the sun hid behind the mountains to the west of him.
_____________________________________________________________________
In
a cluster of aspens he stood. He watched as the boy mounted the horse
and galloped away. That must be Archer's
boy, he thought. He chuckled
menacingly. He still had a job to do...and he wouldn't rest until it
was done.
Iron Fists in Satin Sheets is scheduled for November distribution through Amazon.com. and will be available in book and Kindle formats.
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