Autumn is a great time to plan a fall get-a-way. You
won't find lovelier places to visit than the Midwest. Before trees shed their
leaves in preparation for winter, they often put on a brilliant display of
color...deep burgundy, buttercup yellow and sunburst orange.
Many small towns hold fall festivals and Halloween
galas meant to attract not only local residents but adventure-seeking tourists.
Here's hoping you take time to schedule a short
vacation this fall and enjoy the same beauty depicted in this image from the
state of Wisconsin.
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Keta's latest release is Comes An Outlaw, a
western romance where cowboys and ghosts take center stage. But don't
worry...there's plenty of romance for the love-bugs too.
About
Comes An Outlaw
When a tragic accident claims her husband's life, Jesse
Santos must find a way to keep the ranch, the only home her 12-year-old son has
ever known. The ranch hands have
abandoned her, a gang of cutthroat ranchers want her land and an ancient Yaqui
Indian insists a spirit has taken up residence in the house.
After a fifteen-year absence, her husband's brother,
Coy, returns to his childhood home. He doesn't plan on staying, and he
certainly doesn't intend to settle down with a widow and her son…no matter how
pretty she is.
He's an outlaw, after all, and made a decision to put
an end to his gun-slinging days long ago. Will his conscience let him walk away
from family, or will his heart overrule his head?
Praise
for COMES AN OUTLAW
"I
loved all the components of this story. The Indian lore was probably my
favorite though."
"The
storyline is brilliant. This novella has many twists and turns. A page
turner."
"Diablo
has created a set of compelling characters. Jesse captures the essence of the
time, when women had very few options, and even fewer good ones."
Setup
and Excerpt:
In this scene, Jesse wonders if loneliness has driven
her to desperation. Is she really holding a conversation with a ghost...or has
her late husband returned to help her fight for her land?
Chapter
One
Arizona
1885
Dawn caressed the homespun
curtains in the cramped bedroom, rousing Jesse from a restless night's
sleep. A delicate breeze rustled through
the two-inch gap between window and sill, doing little to motivate the damp,
heavy air in the room.
She tossed back the blue and
white quilt, slid from bed and crossed the room to the pitcher and bowl on the
bureau.
Gonna
be another scorcher today, Jezebel. Might want to tie your hair back.
For a brief moment, she closed
her eyes and willed the voice in the room to leave. He wasn't there, not in a real sense. Like
every other day since his death, he invaded her thoughts, spoke in her head.
She opened her eyes and fought the overwhelming urge to turn around, prove once
and for all ghosts didn't exist.
"Are you set on driving me
crazy, Cain? Don't I have enough to deal with without you tormenting me?
Besides, I don't like it when you call me Jezebel, and you darn well know it."
That's
why no one calls you Jezebel except me.
She spun around and glared at
the rocking chair under the window. "Ah, another one of your tricks to
make me think I'm losing my mind—call me something no one else does."
Yes,
I'm in the rocker, the one my mother always sat in beside the hearth. You
remember after she died, we brought it into our bedroom?
"Stop…you must stop."
Her hands went to her temples. "If you were real I would see you sitting
there."
If only
I could show myself. You have no idea how hard it is to project my voice. Takes
so much energy. I'm working on it though, have high hopes I'll get better at
this spirit realm thing.
"I don't want you to get
better at it; I want you to stop speaking to me entirely."
We
talked about this, agreed that if something happened to one of us, we'd do our
best to come back, watch over the other one.
She paced a small area at the
end of the bed. "I only agreed because I thought it would never happen,
could never happen. I wanted to please you, knew how much you loved your line
of work, believed in it."
Nonetheless,
Jezebel, it happened. I'm here and I mean to look out for you. I didn't want to
leave you so soon but we must deal with what is now.
Stopping her harried pace, she
looked to the chair again. "You don't think I'm doing my best to deal with
what is now? And stop calling me that!"
You'll
always be my precious Jezebel.
She heard a contented sigh
filter through the still air.
My
Jezebel with the tangle of long, copper hair, eyes the color of Robin's eggs
and the lovely bowed mouth. I recall the first time I saw you. Slop bucket
hanging off your tiny arm, you walked from the back room of Two Bits, skirted
the bar and dropped to your knees to scrub the floor. Do you remember?
She hung her head. "How
could I forget the day you saved me from a life of…well, destitution, offered
me safety, security?" Looking up again, she fanned an arm over the room. "Offered
me a home."
And I
want to make sure you keep that home, our home, Grange's home.
"That's why you're here?"
For the
most part. I always said this is a unforgiving land. People aren't careful
it'll swallow them whole and—
"Kill them."
Yes,
and I aim to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't take you and Grange.
"I don't think I can do
this, dark forces are at work, conspiring against your son and me. Lord knows
I've tried, Cain, but how can a woman and a boy fight against the harsh
elements, the day-to-day struggles without a man? Hard enough when you were
here, but now, most days I think the land is going to win. Every morning I walk
out onto that porch and think I'm walking into the fires of Hell. There's
more…someone's been cutting the fence lines, scattering the cattle. Takes us
days to get them back again."
Not
someone, Jezebel. Search your heart; you know who's behind it.
She walked back to the bureau,
opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of leather trousers. After pulling the
nightshirt over her head, she grabbed Cain's flannel shirt from a hook, slipped
her arms into the sleeves and pulled the trousers over her hips. "I know
who the varmints are, all right. Domingo and Benito. Am I right?"
The
Torres brothers.
"Yeah, and the low-bellied
snakes they ride with, Mutton-Chop Walsh and Digger Newly." She blew an exasperated
breath and looked over her shoulder to the window. "How do you expect me
to stand up to that, Cain? I can't do it, I tell you. Let them have the land
because it ain't worth dying for, or God forbid, losing Grange over."
You
can't give up the land, love. Been in my family for generations. Ma and Pa will
be turning over in their—
"I don't care. I'm not
sacrificing my son, our son, for a piece of scorched earth in the middle of
nowhere."
You're
talking foolish now. You love the land as much as I do, I mean did. You're
tired, worn out; I get that, but….
"But what?"
I never
thought I'd hear you say you want to give up the land, give up on life.
"It's different now that
you're gone. You might as well face it, I'm leaving, Cain. And you should leave
too, find that white light you always talked about and forget about this place."
Help is
coming, Jezebel.
"Yeah, and so are monsoon
winds, dried up creek beds and taxes. Or did you forget taxes are due…again?"
I'm
asking you to hang on for a little while, that's all.
"You expect me to believe
a knight on a big white horse will be riding in soon to save us?"
He
rides a Piebald.
"What?"
I said
he rides a Piebald with black and white spots, sixteen hands tall.
"Who…who rides a spotted
horse and how do you know he's coming here?"
I'm
fading, Jezebel. Used up everything I got this morning.
"No you don't! You can't
waltz in here, drop your innuendoes and disappear like a snuffed out candle."
Trust
me. Hang on…please hang on.
"Cain, wait…don't go! You
can't leave like this!"
Hang
on, Jezebel…hang on….
*
* *
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COMES AN OUTLAW for .99 cents
Thanks for sharing,
Tina
