"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: The Art of The Bluff

We passed by several homesteads until we came to a small house set very close to the road. A quaint white picket fence surrounded the yard--which was tiny, compared to the vast pastures of the other properties--and the house itself was painted a cheery butter-yellow.

Jerry reached over the low gate to release the latch. "Home sweet home," he murmured. 

I followed, the sight of everything tickling my memory, the same as with Phantasm and the space ship. I knew I had come across an idea for a Western--if only I could place it!

Three sturdy steps up to the porch, and Jerry opened the door and led me inside, removing his hat as he did.

"That you, Jerry?" called a feminine voice from at least two rooms away.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called back.

With a swooshing of petticoats, a woman sailed into the room, and it was all I could do not to gasp aloud. This definitely had to be one of my stories I was living through I had most certainly seen her face somewhere before! Knowing me, I probably based her appearance on some actress I had recently seen--but who? And what significance did she have, that she would be the only familiar person I'd met so far?
By the time her expression changed, and she stopped just shy of greeting her husband, I realized I had probably been staring for a little too long.

"Oh," she set down the dishtowel she'd been using to wipe her hands. "Jerry," she murmured, edging closer to him without taking her eyes of of me, "who is this?"

He reached both arms to wrap her in a hug and lean in for a kiss. "In a moment, dear." He kissed her tenderly, and when they pulled away from each other, she watched his face searchingly. 

"What happened? I knew there had been a ruckus, because I could hear it from way out here. Jerry--"

"Nothing happened," he assured his wife. "Just a bit of a dustup with some of Tom's boys. No one got hurt. This one especially," he turned to me with a grin. "I was passing by just in time to pull her out of the path of a wagon. Shirley, I want you to meet Laura. Laura, this is my wife, Shirley Coldwell."
Her sparkling hazel eyes melted from fear and confusion into genuine warmth as she smiled at me. I had to admire the firm honey-golden hue of her hair, and the way it stayed in perfect curls at the nape of her neck. 

"Pleased to meet you, Laura," she said, holding out her hand. 

I shook it. "The feeling is mutual."

She hesitated, playing with the cuff of her billowing cream-colored blouse. "Begging pardon, but your clothes seem, um, comfortable," she remarked, making a point, I felt, not to stare too long.

I could understand why; probably from her standpoint, my single layer of clothing was tantamount to standing there in my underwear! 

Before I could answer, Jerry gave a short cough. "Shirley-belle, I was hoping that you might be able to lend Laura a couple dresses, at least for the time being; it looks like she'll be staying with us a while, and I want to make sure she doesn't feel out of place among us." If I didn't know any better, I would say that he might have just called me some kind of alien--but then again, I owned that such an assumption was as close to the truth as anyone would ever get, so I let it slide.

"Oh!" Shirley blinked. "Of course," she gave me a sympathetic smile. "Come with me, I'll show you the guest room and bring you some things."

[...]

[Shirley] returned with her arms full of calico and checked fabrics. 
"We are just about the same size, I think," she said. "These are some of last year's dresses; a bit worn, but they'll do nicely, I think!" She picked up a dress with tiny pink rosebuds on a field of forest-green. "Like this one." She held it under my chin. "Ooh!" she gushed. "Laura, I think this is definitely the color for you! Try it on!" 
The sleeves came down to my elbow, and puffed out at the shoulder. By folding up the sleeve of my jumpsuit back up to my shoulder, I could slip the dress on over it and no one would be the wiser. 
Before I could put it on, though, Shirley pulled out a series of wooden hoops covered by a voluminous linen petticoat. 
"Here, you'll need this to keep the skirts from getting underfoot."
I stared askance at the contraption. "Oh no," I said. "Where I'm from, we don't really need those things--"
Shirley's eyebrows came straight up her forehead. "Don't need them? Yes, and I suppose most girls in this strange place of yours walk around in long underwear as you do!" She gave a little laugh and placed a hand on my arm. "Don't you worry, Laura; I've been wearing hoops ever since I was a little girl. I know exactly how to tie them so you won't feel a thing!"
Meekly, I acquiesced to her recommendation, and after the hoops came the dress, which proved to consist of a lot more fabric than I anticipated.
Shirley finished fastening the row of tiny buttons along my spine, and gave my shoulders an excited little push.
"Oh, turn around, I want to see it!" she begged.
I did, and though there was no mirror, the glowing grin on her face was enough. She was right about the hoops, too. The skirt of the dress hung gracefully over it, and the lace trim just barely skimmed the floor as I took a few practice steps.
"Oh my stars, don't you look like a fine young lady now!" she gasped.

[...]

Speaking of where you come from," Jerry broke the silence with the words that made my skin go all cold and clammy. "I don't believe you ever explained to me where precisely that is. I know it's not the State Penitentiary--so where are you really from, Laura?" He rested his elbows on the arm rests and leaned his fingertips against one another, like a long, peaked roof.

[...]

"As you say, I haven't come from a very long ways away," I said. "I only started walking this morning, from my family's home in the bluffs," I jerked my thumb in the correct direction. "We've lived there pretty much on our own for a few years, until..." I let my voice fade off as if tortured by the memory of something traumatic--but what was really torturing me in that moment was trying to come up with a suitable scenario that made sense for a girl like me, dressed like I was, to be walking all by herself in the cliffs!

"Until what?" Jerry challenged. He wasn't going to let me off easy. "Did Big Tom and his bandits raid your homestead in the mountains?"

I nodded, still keeping the pitiful expression on my face. The manufactured tale came tumbling out of my mouth. "They attacked just the other night, just as we were sitting down to dinner. Father heard shouting, and went to see what was the matter, and when he opened the door, there was our modest vegetable garden, in flames. He grabbed the gun and went out to defend himself, while Mother and I hid in a room at the back of the house. We heard gunshots, and the next thing we know, the bandits are swarming the house, looting and looking for us." I forced myself to picture this fictional scene, playing up the drama to produce the expected emotional response. I kept my eyes wide, testifying to the horror of it all. "Of course they came into the room and knew we were there right away, but Mother stood up to them. She burst out of our hiding place, yelled at me to run, and grabbed the kerosene lantern by the bed, smashing it on the floor." I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and I just kept thinking about how I would feel if I witnessed my own parents, dying at the hands of a bunch of heartless thugs. "Everything else that happened that night was a blur. I got out of the house while the bandits were all shouting at the fire that was spreading all over the place. I remember seeing the horses waiting for the riders, and although I hadn't really ever ridden a horse before, I know I did try." I took a deep, calming breath, and continued. "It's a lot harder than it looks in the movies, to just get up and ride a horse, let me tell you! It wasn't a few yards before the horse bucked me off, and I had to run the rest of the way, to get away from those bandits and the burning house and my dead parents..." I blinked and returned to the present scenario, which honestly didn't seem any more real than the story I'd just made up in my head. "And at last I found my way to Phantom Gulch, where you saved my life from a runaway wagon."

Jerry, who hadn't said a word this whole time, waited until we were seated and Shirley filled our plates to finally respond.

"That was some tale, Laura," he began slowly, and I wondered if I had made a mistake in assuming he would believe such a wild story. "I am most impressed at how you can come through all of that relatively unharmed. I just have one question." Uh-oh! Here it came; had I put in too much detail, or not enough?

Jerry locked eyes with me over his steaming plate and asked. "What is this movies you mentioned, and what does it have to do with riding a horse?"

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

A Writer's Tale Featured Excerpts:

Book 1--The Dragon's Quest: "START HERE" ---- "The Hunt Before Nightfall" ---- "An Underwater Rescue" ---- "A Dragon and His Name" ---- "Loose the Gryphon"

Book 2--The Commander's Courage: "An Aliian Encounter" ---- "Two Truths And A Lie" ---- "The Grand Tour" ---- "Technical Difficulties" ---- "At Your Service" ---- "Mystery Meat(less)" ---- "Lockdown"

Book 3--The Sheriff's Showdown: "Welcome to Phantom Gulch" and "Tru and Pru"

"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: Welcome to Phantom Gulch & Tru and Pru

In the list of everything I ever wanted to do in my life, even just the once, for the sake of "experiential writing research", walk through a desert in the blazing sun alone dressed in nothing but a synthetic jumpsuit did not even show up anywhere at all. And yet, thanks to a quirky typewriter, an impossible challenge, and goodness knows what other substance I may or may not have ingested to bring me here--this is exactly where I found myself in this moment.

The thing that irritated me most was the fact that there didn't seem to be any trees or means of actual shade under the clear blue sky and the blazing sun. My only relief came from the fact that the futuristic jumpsuit from the Phantessan space ship possessed some kind of super-wicking ability, evaporating any moisture on contact, so that even my sweat didn't cause any problems. Of course, I still lost those copious amounts of moisture, so I felt the dehydration settle over me at a much faster rate. The bright sunlight reflecting off the pale sand didn't help the dizzy factor, either. I kept my eyes down, watching my shadow as I shambled over the ground. Gradually, I came to more or less of a flat, packed surface, instead of loose gravel and soil, and the track seemed to follow more of a direction, like a road rather than just open scrubland.

I walked until my legs began to feel heavy, and still, I was the only thing in the desert that moved. To avoid getting caught up in my own misery, I did the unthinkable: I let my mind wander as I walked in this foreign location.

[...]

The path began to incline gradually, cutting off my view of the horizon as I headed up a small rise between the bluffs. A wind whistled through the narrow lane, causing me to shiver--but at least my muscles didn't feel so tired anymore. I came to the top of the hill and stopped to catch my breath and admire the view.
A town spread before me, on the valley floor below. I could see the wooden buildings of many shapes and various heights, and if I squinted really hard I could even make out people and animals moving about between them. I almost laughed aloud with relief at the sight--except that I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched somehow, among those craggy cliffs. 
"Time to find out what this story will be like," I murmured, taking long strides down the hill toward the town. 

[...]

It was so noisy already, I hadn't noticed the extra level of frenzy, but as [I took in the bustling town around me], I felt a shadow fall over me, heard the words "Look out!" and I stood up just as the fence less than ten yards away from me shattered in front of a runaway wagon headed right for me!

I cringed and threw my arms over my head, crouching down and praying that the horses went around me--but instead of hooves, I felt two arms lift me straight up and sweep me off to the side, as the wagon went thundering out into the middle of the road as people and crates screamed at the narrow escape and dove out of its way. The wagon plowed straight out of town without stopping or overturning.
"Are you all right?" asked a voice just over my head. The arms pulled back and gentle, strong hands supported me as I looked into the honest face of the man who had saved my life.

I gasped, feeling a keen sense of deja vu as I could have been looking into the face of Commander Gerald of Phantessa! 

"Y-yes," I stammered, my body quivering as the rush of adrenaline subsided. "I'm fine, thank you."
The man stepped back, pushing the brim of his Stetson back to mop the sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. "It's my pleasure--and, I guess you could say, my job to ensure the safety of any who enter this town." He dusted off the sleeve of his plaid shirt and pointed to the silver badge clipped to his pocket. "I'm the Sheriff, you see. The name's Jerry Coldwell. Who might you be, stranger?" His eyes wrinkled as he talked, but his face was not unkind.
I managed a smile. "My name is Laura," I said.
He nodded and shook my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Laura."

[...]

The sheriff led me further into the town. We turned down a road that I could see would lead us to a cluster of small houses. I tried to smile and nod pleasantly at everyone we passed, but only got frowns, gapes, and calculating squints in response.

Two ladies, wearing ample hoop skirts and billowing blouses, stood at the front of a square white building, waving and greeting passersby. When they saw us, the smiles disappeared, and they dared to approach us. 

"Oh, Sheriff Coldwell!" said the lady on the right. "How are you feeling today?"

"Oh, not too bad, Prudence," Jerry responded jovially. "And yourself?"

The women gave me pointed looks.

"Trudy," Prudence leaned over and gave a loud whisper. "I do believe the Sheriff is under some kind of terrible threat of duress. I greatly fear for his safety and his sanity."

"Aye, sister," Trudy murmured back. "Either that or the poor man must be going blind, for surely no one with his authority and stature would dare to--"

Jerry whirled around so fast that I nearly collided with him. "All right!" he barked at the nosy ladies. "Let's have it out, ladies. What seems to be the problem?"

Trudy and Prudence stared at him with wide, owlish eyes--which they subtly shifted in my direction.

Jerry snorted. "Her? This is your problem?" He placed a hand on my shoulder. I noticed his grip wasn't rough or heavy. "This is why you question my competence? Because of a girl?"

The owl eyes blinked. 

"Oh!" said Prudence.

"It's a girl, is it?" said Trudy.

Jerry wagged his head. "Of course she is! What else could she be?"

He meant it as a rhetorical question, but from the deep pink flush on both faces in front of me, I guessed that I probably wouldn't like the answer they had to that question.

I was right.

"Well, to be sure," Prudence stammered, "if I would have seen this... girl... walking down the street, I might have mistaken her for a rather unkempt man, with the strange trousers she wears."

"Or an escaped convict," Trudy added quickly.

Jerry threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You worried that I'd somehow gotten friendly with a convict?"

They returned to blinking owl eyes. 

Jerry finished laughing and mopped his face with the bandana. "Oh, that is wonderful," he sighed. "Tell me, ladies--if this girl is an escaped convict... How far away is the nearest prison?"

"There's the State Penitentiary just outside of Junction," Trudy volunteered. 

I had a sneaking suspicion that these would be exactly the type of ladies to keep themselves and others appraised of such matters.

"Junction is well-nigh fifty miles away," Jerry stated, "and there are other towns much closer to it, in pretty much any other direction except toward Phantom Gulch--so why, if she escaped the prison at Junction, would she bother walking fifty miles into the middle of nowhere, just to be here in Phantom Gulch?"

In perfect unison, the sisters' mouths dropped open. They gaped like fish for several silent moments, then turned about-face and flounced back into town to harry some other unsuspecting individual.

Jerry nodded to me and pointed to the road. "Best keep moving, Laura."

I grinned as we walked. "Wow," I said. "I'm impressed at the way you handled those two fussbudgets."

Jerry chuckled. "That's just Tru and Pru, our resident spinsters who make it their business to air their approval and disapproval of everyone else's business. If you ever wanted a source that knew everything about everybody, that would be Tru and Pru." He glanced over and gave me a wink. "Which is why I'm glad you're here."

Glad? "Why are you glad, exactly?"

"We don't get a lot of newcomers around here. The community in Phantom Gulch is pretty tight. News travels fast, and my wife and I have spent the last couple years learning the ins and outs of everybody who lives here. You? You're something no one has seen before, one those two nosy biddies can't figure out--and I got to you first, so I'll know more about you than they ever hope to!" He kept walking in long, easy strides, even whistling a little as he went, but I felt my stomach knotting up inside me.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

A Writer's Tale Featured Excerpts:

Book 1--The Dragon's Quest: "START HERE" ---- "The Hunt Before Nightfall" ---- "An Underwater Rescue" ---- "A Dragon and His Name" ---- "Loose the Gryphon"

Book 2--The Commander's Courage: "An Aliian Encounter" ---- "Two Truths And A Lie" ---- "The Grand Tour" ---- "Technical Difficulties" ---- "At Your Service" ---- "Mystery Meat(less)" ---- "Lockdown"

NaNoWriMo 2022: Announcing This Year's Novel!

Whew!! How is it almost November already?

This year has been... not quite like I thought it would be. Starting with battling Covid in January that set me back several months as my physical health recovered quite quickly, but my mental health (namely the psychological wherewithal to write) took a nosedive for several months... and then, just when I was getting to the end of a very stressful school year and looking forward to a summer of really hitting the second draft of Fugitive of Crossway very hard, my brother's health took a turn for the worse, and he passed away near the end of summer.

I've stopped a bunch of projects since then, but The Undersea Saga is here to stay, and here's why: I now see it as a small way to honor my brother's memory. It's on account of him that the piddly little stand-alone novella became a full-fledged series, anyway, and I'd hoped to be able to involve him in the development of Fugitive of Crossway as it unfolded... but although that's not going to happen, I'm still going to finish the thing, for sure!

At this point, honestly, I'm nowhere near where I planned on being at the end of last year. If everything had gone the way I'd hoped, I'd be making my final tweaks on Fugitive of Crossway, already sent it off for professional editing, and into the formatting/ design stage.

In reality... I've got three chapters actually "done", I'm headed into the really tricky part of the story that had the most changes and is definitely the middle part of the book that I'm the most iffy about... but where does that leave me for NaNo?

Why not go ahead and give myself a running start on Book 3?

That's right, folks, this November, I'm taking my first crack at Fury of Outwest, the third book in the Undersea Saga, and I'll admit, I'm excited to be able to return to actually pulling off a retelling, rather than "inspired by", as Fugitive of Crossway is!

So what story am I retelling for this third book?

Well, back when I was devising the series as longer than like two or three books, I knew that I wanted to use the four different "kingdoms" as the settings for the various books, and as such, this one would be Outwest.

This would be the most different of the four kingdoms, as it wouldn't exactly be a kingdom, per se... no kings or castles here! I envisioned Outwest as a combination of the American Wild West and the Australian Outback--just hot, desert-y landscape with scattered towns, villages, and ranches throughout, but mostly empty, barren desert.

And what sort of fairy tales take place in the desert? Why, Aladdin, of course!

This one was a bit tricky, as I'd already decided I wanted to write a "steampunk Aladdin", and I'd been jotting down plot ideas for that... but when it came to creating an "Undersea Saga" version of it, I came to the realization that there needed to be a lot more to the story than the "traditional" sense--a street rat comes across a magical item that gives him access to riches beyond reason... but then what?

In particular, I decided to gender-swap the main character. "Aladdin" became "Delaina", an outlaw who survived by raiding stagecoaches that dared cross the desert wasteland. Instead of a lamp with a genie inside... there's going to be a special "magical" device found by our intrepid protagonist, one that provides her with access to riches beyond belief. (I'm not going to go into any detail about the device, because spoilers!) I had already decided on an object back when this was "Steampunk Aladdin", but everything I'd thought of was only confirmed when I saw this premade and knew I had to have it!

I love the look of the device in her hand! I am still deciding whether to give her a prosthetic limb, so that may change by the time the cover design comes around, but there you have it!

Instead of the street rat going through all this charade to win the eye and heart of the princess of the realm... Well, that part I'm going to keep to myself for now, but here's hoping that readers will find my alternative worthwhile still! Suffice to say, I don't think this one will have much romance in it--at least, not where it is just now. I don't know, a character could crop up and catch Delaina's eye as I'm writing the thing. I only have the bare-bones notes at this point. After posting this announcement, that is next on the "writing docket", fleshing out chapter-by-chapter the notes I have. If I see fit to include a romantic subplot, I just might, but for now, it seems that Princess of Undersea is the only book with romance in it, in the series.

Wouldn't that be fitting, though? Making Ylaine and Nathan my only romantic couple in the series? I don't know. I'm still thinking on that one.

Meanwhile, there will be gunfights, subterfuge, and all manner of fun things--including, by way of connection to the rest of the series, an appearance by none other than "Calamity Jacqui" from Fugitive of Crossway. Due to the events of that book, she's no longer a performing carnie... but her role in Fury of Outwest is more that of a bounty hunter. She's been dispatched to track down and "retrieve" the thing that Delaina has... but can the outlaw last long enough to find out the truth?

Hang on to your bowler hats, everyone... this is going to be a wild ride!

"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: A Home In Phantom Gulch

Two ladies, wearing ample hoop skirts and billowing blouses, stood at the front of a square white building, waving and greeting passersby. When they saw us, the smiles disappeared, and they dared to approach us.

"Oh, Sheriff Coldwell!" said the lady on the right. "How are you feeling today?"

"Oh, not too bad, Prudence," Jerry responded jovially. "And yourself?"

The women gave me pointed looks.

"Trudy," Prudence leaned over and gave a loud whisper. "I do believe the Sheriff is under some kind of terrible threat of duress. I greatly fear for his safety and his sanity."

"Aye, sister," Trudy murmured back. "Either that or the poor man must be going blind, for surely no one with his authority and stature would dare to--"

Jerry whirled around so fast that I nearly collided with him. "All right!" he barked at the nosy ladies. "Let's have it out, ladies. What seems to be the problem?"

Trudy and Prudence stared at him with wide, owlish eyes--which they subtly shifted in my direction.

Jerry snorted. "Her? This is your problem?" He placed a hand on my shoulder. I noticed his grip wasn't rough or heavy. "This is why you question my competence? Because of a girl?"

The owl eyes blinked.

"Oh!"said Prudence.

"It's a girl, is it?" said Trudy.

Jerry wagged his head. "Of course she is! What else could she be?"

He meant it as a rhetorical question, but from the deep pink flush on both faces in front of me, I guessed that I probably wouldn't like the answer they had to that question.

I was right.

"Well, to be sure," Prudence stammered, "if I would have seen this... girl... walking down the street, I might have mistaken her for a rather unkempt man, with the strange trousers she wears."

"Or an escaped convict," Trudy added quickly.

Jerry threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You worried that I'd somehow gotten friendly with a convict?"

They returned to blinking owl eyes.

Jerry finished laughing and mopped his face with the bandana. "Oh, that is wonderful," he sighed. "Tell me, ladies--if this girl is an escaped convict... How far away is the nearest prison?"

"There's the State Penitentiary just outside of Junction," Trudy volunteered.

I had a sneaking suspicion that these would be exactly the type of ladies to keep themselves and others appraised of such matters.

"Junction is well-nigh fifty miles away," Jerry stated, "and there are other towns much closer to it, in pretty much any other direction except toward Phantom Gulch--so why, if she escaped the prison at Junction, would she bother walking fifty miles into the middle of nowhere, just to be here in Phantom Gulch?"

In perfect unison, the sisters' mouths dropped open. They gaped like fish for several silent moments, then turned about-face and flounced back into town to harry some other unsuspecting individual.

Jerry nodded to me and pointed to the road. "Best keep moving, Laura."

I grinned as we walked. "Wow," I said. "I'm impressed at the way you handled those two fussbudgets."

Jerry chuckled. "That's just Tru and Pru, our resident spinsters who make it their business to air their approval and disapproval of everyone else's business. If you ever wanted a source that knew everything about everybody, that would be Tru and Pru." He glanced over and gave me a wink. "Which is why I'm glad you're here."

Glad? "Why are you glad, exactly?"

"We don't get a lot of newcomers around here. The community in Phantom Gulch is pretty tight. News travels fast, and my wife and I have spent the last couple years learning the ins and outs of everybody who lives here. You? You're something no one has seen before, one those two nosy biddies can't figure out--and I got to you first, so I'll know more about you than they ever hope to!" He kept walking in long, easy strides, even whistling a little as he went, but I felt my stomach knotting up inside me.

You won't be finding out too much about me, I hope! I thought to myself.

[...]

Silence descended between us, almost as thick as the two-inch ruff on my skirt. Jerry didn't once take his eyes off me, but it was a calculating, keen stare.

"Speaking of where you come from," Jerry broke the silence with the words that made my skin go all cold and clammy. "I don't believe you ever explained to me where precisely that is. I know it's not the State Penitentiary--so where are you really from, Laura?" He rested his elbows on the arm rests and leaned his fingertips against one another, like a long, peaked roof.

I could feel the color mounting in my cheeks. This was just like having to explain my arrival to Commander Gerald--except I happened to be slightly more familiar with the cultural and social expectations of a Wild West town, as opposed to a foreign space cruiser. I just hoped I could make it convincing enough to remember it when necessary, without tripping myself up. Probably the fact that Jerry wasn't as suspicious of me as Commander Gerald was helped my case greatly!

"As you say, I haven't come from a very long ways away," I said. "I only started walking this morning, from my family's home in the bluffs," I jerked my thumb in the correct direction. "We've lived there pretty much on our own for a few years, until..." I let my voice fade off as if tortured by the memory of something traumatic--but what was really torturing me in that moment was trying to come up with a suitable scenario that made sense for a girl like me, dressed like I was, to be walking all by herself in the cliffs!

"Until what?" Jerry challenged. He wasn't going to let me off easy. "Did Big Tom and his bandits raid your homestead in the mountains?"

I nodded, still keeping the pitiful expression on my face. The manufactured tale came tumbling out of my mouth. "They attacked just the other night, just as we were sitting down to dinner. Father heard shouting, and went to see what was the matter, and when he opened the door, there was our modest vegetable garden, in flames. He grabbed the gun and went out to defend himself, while Mother and I hid in a room at the back of the house. We heard gunshots, and the next thing we know, the bandits are swarming the house, looting and looking for us." I forced myself to picture this fictional scene, playing up the drama to produce the expected emotional response. I kept my eyes wide, testifying to the horror of it all.

"Of course they came into the room and knew we were there right away, but Mother stood up to them. She burst out of our hiding place, yelled at me to run, and grabbed the kerosene lantern by the bed, smashing it on the floor." I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and I just kept thinking about how I would feel if I witnessed my own parents, dying at the hands of a bunch of heartless thugs. "Everything else that happened that night was a blur. I got out of the house while the bandits were all shouting at the fire that was spreading all over the place. I remember seeing the horses waiting for the riders, and although I hadn't really ever ridden a horse before, I know I did try." I took a deep, calming breath, and continued. "It's a lot harder than it looks in the movies, to just get up and ride a horse, let me tell you! It wasn't a few yards before the horse bucked me off, and I had to run the rest of the way, to get away from those bandits and the burning house and my dead parents..." I blinked and returned to the present scenario, which honestly didn't seem anymore real than the story I'd just made up in my head. "And at last I found my way to Phantom Gulch, where you saved my life from a runaway wagon."

"Oh!" cried a voice just behind me, and I turned to see Shirley standing in the doorway, the apron hanging over her clothes lightly dusted in flour, and her face a little smudged. She stared at me, her wide eyes brimming with tears. "You poor dear!" She murmured. "I had no idea! Losing your parents and your home in one night... No wonder you weren't paying attention to your surroundings in this unfamiliar place!" She rushed forward and grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet and throwing her arms around me, floured apron and all. "I want you to know that from now on, you'll always have a home in Phantom Gulch, as long as Jerry and I are here!"

I didn't feel any awkwardness about hugging her back. "Thank you," I said.

>>>>>>>>>

"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: Walking Into Town

In the list of everything I ever wanted to do in my life, even just the once, for the sake of "experiential writing research", walk through a desert in the blazing sun alone dressed in nothing but a synthetic jumpsuit did not even show up anywhere at all. And yet, thanks to a quirky typewriter, an impossible challenge, and goodness knows what other substance I may or may not have ingested to bring me here--this is exactly where I found myself in this moment.

The thing that irritated me most was the fact that there didn't seem to be any trees or means of actual shade under the clear blue sky and the blazing sun. My only relief came from the fact that the futuristic jumpsuit from the Phantessan space ship possessed some kind of super-wicking ability, evaporating any moisture on contact, so that even my sweat didn't cause any problems. Of course, I still lost those copious amounts of moisture, so I felt the dehydration settle over me at a much faster rate. The bright sunlight reflecting off the pale sand didn't help the dizzy factor, either. I kept my eyes down, watching my shadow as I shambled over the ground. Gradually, I came to more or less of a flat, packed surface, instead of loose gravel and soil, and the track seemed to follow more of a direction, like a road rather than just open scrubland.

[...]

A town spread before me, on the valley floor below. I could see the wooden buildings of many shapes and various heights, and if I squinted really hard I could even make out people and animals moving about between them. I almost laughed aloud with relief at the sight--except that I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched somehow, among those craggy cliffs.

"Time to find out what this story will be like," I murmured, taking long strides down the hill toward the town.

[...]

I wasn't exactly watching where I was going, and I nearly spooked someone's horse as they trotted down the road in the opposite direction.

"Watch where you're going!" snapped the rider.

A piercing wolf whistle cut through the air. A couple of drunks eyed me up and down. Lucky for me they were too hosed to stand up straight, but that didn't prevent them from hollering at me.

"Eyyy, pre'ygirl!" slurred one.

"No, issa boy," objected his companion as they reeled and staggered right past me. "See'is trousers?"

"Nevva see'd trousers go up to 'is neck like that!"

"Hey you!" barked a gruff voice, and something hard glanced off my cheek and splatted in the mud at my feet. I looked down to see a couple coins I didn't recognize, one of them golden in color (but surely it was too big to be real gold!) and the other a pewter-ish silver. I regarded the man who had thrown them. He made a rude motion with his hands.

"Yeah you... long-johns! Go buy yourself some real clothes, loony!"

He meant it as a slight, I could tell that from the way the people around him burst into a fit of laughter at my expense--but on the other hand, it struck me as a good idea to at least clothe myself in a way to fit in better. I bent down to pick up the coins.

It was so noisy already, I hadn't noticed the extra level of frenzy, but as my fingers closed around the shiny metal discs, I felt a shadow fall over me, heard the words "Look out!" and I stood up just as the fence less than ten yards away from me shattered in front of a runaway wagon headed right for me!

I cringed and threw my arms over my head, crouching down and praying that the horses went around me--but instead of hooves, I felt two arms lift me straight up and sweep me off to the side, as the wagon went thundering out into the middle of the road as people and crates screamed at the narrow escape and dove out of its way. The wagon plowed straight out of town without stopping or overturning.

"Are you all right?" asked a voice just over my head. The arms pulled back and gentle, strong hands supported me as I looked into the honest face of the man who had saved my life.

I gasped, feeling a keen sense of deja vu as I could have been looking into the face of Commander Gerald of Phantessa!

"Y-yes," I stammered, my body quivering as the rush of adrenaline subsided. "I'm fine, thank you."

The man stepped back, pushing the brim of his Stetson back to mop the sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. "It's my pleasure--and, I guess you could say, my job to ensure the safety of any who enter this town." He dusted off the sleeve of his plaid shirt and pointed to the silver badge clipped to his pocket. "I'm the Sheriff, you see. The name's Jerry Coldwell. Who might you be, stranger?" His eyes wrinkled as he talked, but his face was not unkind.

I managed a smile. "My name is Laura," I said.

He nodded and shook my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Laura. Now, if you don't mind my saying..." Sheriff Jerry gave me a casual once-over, "I get the feeling you're not exactly from around here. Care to tell me where that might be?"

Oh, blazes! I hadn't had nearly enough time to cook up a reasonable response--and I already knew from my experience with Commander Gerald that I was absolutely no good trying to bluff on the fly. My eyes began to wander, as I knew that I had probably hesitated far too long to avoid suspicion, even from one as open and honest as the good sheriff before me. I had to say something!

"I--"

"Sheriff! Sheriff Coldwell! Thank God I've found you!" shouted a man, running up to us.

His hair stood out wildly from his head, and his clothes were streaked with dirt, even a little bit of blood from a cut on his face and a split lip. The wiry man whose skin looked like a bad sunburn all over, waved his hands and grabbed wildly for the Sheriff.

"Did you see them? Did you see those miserable outlaws?"

"Hold up there, Ingalls," Sheriff Jerry responded with the utmost calm. "What outlaws? What are you talking about?"

"The thieves!" Ingalls shouted. "Those men driving the wagon that just about ran down half the town! Those men ride with Big Tom the Bandit, and they've made off with nearly half my merchandise!"

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Dreamtime Fantasy Authors Presents: 20 Facts About "Nicole Falling: A Southwestern Horror Story"

1. The diner in the story was once a real setting. The train car idea came from a restaurant my sister and her husband owned, which I worked at during summers when I was a teen.
2. There are so many deserted towns in the southwest, any of them could have been the setting.
3. My wife and I nearly ran out of gas, on a stretch of highway between Vaughn and Roswell New Mexico. That lonely stretch of highway was in my mind when I wrote the story.
4. In the desert, darkness is real. With no source of light and a cloudy sky, the night is near absolute.
5. The stars in the desert make for an inspiring view, if you ever have the chance to see the night’s sky in the clear desert air, I highly recommend it.
6. For me, the horror of the setting was more in the characters’ mind. The unknown was the greatest threat.
7. What some might consider supernatural normally has a mundane source.
8. People should not be judged by their outward appearance. Given a certain set of circumstances, all hell might break loose. The monster can lurk in anyone’s heart.
9. I wrote the story while living in China.
10. I’m certain the feelings of solitude I felt in China played into the story.
11. The car, at the beginning of the story, is my wife’s dream car.
12. I borrowed Nicole’s name from a relative.
13. The characters don’t represent any one person, they are an amalgamation of different people I have encountered over the years.
14. The idea of a seemingly mundane setting turning into a crazy place filled the death seemed like an outstanding location for a horror story.
15. I’m writing these 20 facts while in Bali for two months.
16. My wife and I are living out of suitcases while trying to travel around the world.
17. I release at least one novel per month, while also working on short stories and other future projects. I write a lot…
18. Often when I start a story, I have no idea of the ending. It isn’t until the middle that it comes to me.
19. The darkness represents the unknown we all have in our lives.
20. Technology fails the people stranded in the diner.

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If you found these facts interesting, be sure to look for "Nicole Falling: A Southwestern Horror Story" within the covers of Dreamtime Damsels and Fatal Femmes, by the Dreamtime Fantasy Authors!

More "Fun Facts":
-"A Wizard's Quandary"/"Muliebral The Bold"
-"Nicole Falling: A Southwestern Horror Story"
-"Dangerous"
-"Red, The Wolf"