RIDING THE STAGE COACH

Contrary to those in the movies, stage coaches came in several sizes and styles. Some had three seats, some two. But they all had rigorous rules of travelers’ deportment. The following list is from the 1877 Omaha Herald via the source at the end:

Hints For Plains Travelers

The best seat inside a stagecoach is the one next to the driver…you will get less than half the bumps and jars than on any other seat. When any old “sly Eph,” who traveled thousands of miles on coaches, offers through sympathy to exchange his back or middle seat with you, don’t do it.

Never ride in cold weather with tight books or shoes or close-fitting gloves. Bathe your feet the night before starting in cold water, and wear loose overshoes and gloves about two three sizes too large.

When the driver asks you to get off and walk, do it without grumbling. He will not request it unless absolutely necessary. If a team runs away, sit still and take your chances. If you jump, nine times out of ten you will be hurt.

In very cold weather, abstain entirely from liquor while on the road. A man will freeze twice as quick while under its influence.

Don’t growl at food stations; stage companies generally provide the best they can. Don’t keep the stage waiting; many a virtuous man has lost his character by doing so.

Don’t smoke a strong pipe inside, especially early in the morning. Spit on the leeward side of the coach. If you have anything to take in a bottle, pass it around. A man who drinks by himself in such a case is lost to all human feeling. Provide stimulants before starting. Ranch whisky is not always nectar.

Don’t swear, nor lop over on your neighbor when sleeping. Don’t ask how far it is to the next station.

Never attempt to fire a gun or pistol while on the road. It may frighten the team, and the careless handling and cocking of the weapon makes nervous people nervous.

Don’t discuss politics or religion, nor point out places on the road where horrible murders have been committed.

Don’t linger too long at the pewter wash basin at the station.

Don’t grease your hair before starting or dust will stick there in sufficient quantities to make a respectable ‘tater’ patch. Tie as silk handkerchief around your neck to keep out dust and prevent sunburn.

A little glycerin is good in case of chapped hands.

Don’t imagine for a moment you are going on a picnic. Expect annoyance, discomfort, and some hardships. If you are disappointed, thank heaven.

In my western historical HIGH STAKES BRIDE, the heroine tries to reach a stage to escape her two evil stepbrothers. She is plagued by bad luck, that is, until she throw in with the hero.

I’ve ridden briefly in a stage coach a couple of times. I have to say I am very grateful for my nice air-conditioned sedan. How about you?

Source:

KEEPING HEARTH AND HOME IN OLD TEXAS: The How-To Book Your Great-Great- Grandmother Used, pages 201-202, by Carol Padgett, Sweetwater Press.

Caroline Clemmons is the author of numerous western historical and contemporary romances. See her books at her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Clemmons/e/B001K8CXZ6/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1358718598&sr=1-2-ent

Books also available from Nook, iPad, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords

Thanks for stopping by!

POISON, MURDER, AND WESTERN ROMANCE

Why would a writer focus on poison? I don’t plan to murder anyone in real life. However, I love to kill people in books. Great way to relax. Joking, joking. But perhaps you've seen the coffee mugs or T-shirts that boast, "Be careful what you do or you'll end up in my book" and "I kill people in books." One of the joys of being a writer is that I can take out all my frustrations on my fictional characters. Well, to you they're fictional. To me, they're (almost) real.

GIVEAWAY

I’m giving away a Kindle Fire 3G to one lucky subscriber of my Caroline’s Occasional Newsletter on December 15th. Stop by my blog or webpage (shown at the end of this post) to sign up. You might be the one who wins. I’ll feature newsletter contests like this one every few months. Don’t worry, no salesmen will call, and your email will remain confidential. Lots of authors have giveaways at this festive time of year. This is my gift to readers for buying my books, and I'll continue giveaways as long as I'm able to sit in my nice pink cave and write the books I love. Now, on to our regularly scheduled blog post:

POISONS

I first became interested in poisons years ago from reading Agatha Christie’s mysteries. I still love her books and am fascinated with poison. Many plants have medicinal qualities and other seemingly innocent lovelies can be deadly. For instance, in Alexander Dumas’ THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, oleander leaves are ground and incorporated into food to murder. Foxglove can heal or kill, depending on how it is administered and to whom. While researching, I pour through books like DEADLY DOSES from Writers Digest Books and old herbals. My eldest daughter fed my fascination with HERBS AND THINGS by Jeanne Rose, a book on remedies that gives both friendly and unfriendly plants and their uses. My youngest daughter has given me several illustrated books on native Texas plants, many of which can be harmful. Picture the writer rubbing her hands and laughing evilly. BWAHAHAHA!

MURDER

Before scientific forensic tests, poisoners had far more freedom. Current pathologists’ tests uncover most poisons and, fortunately, create a hardship for villains. Since my current trilogy is historical, my villain is safe from sophisticated forensics. But not, of course, from my hero and heroine. Many poisons leave tell tale signs that even a medieval physician could detect. All readers know that cyanide leaves a distinctive smell and blue coloration of the victim’s lips for a while after death. Advanced arsenic poisoning colors the fingernails at the base. Can you believe women used to use arsenic to control their weight? I’d love to be thin, but not that way! Women also used to deliberately ingest tape worms supposedly as a help with their weight. But that's another post.

MEN OF STONE MOUNTAIN TRILOGY

For my current Men of Stone Mountain trilogy, I studied poisons available in the Southwest where the book is set. In the first of my trilogy, BRAZOS BRIDE, heroine Hope Montoya is being poisoned. She doesn’t know the killer’s identity or type of poison, but she is an intelligent woman and deduces the poison is administered through her food and/or her tonic. Although she is severely weakened by the contaminant, she devises a plan to escape and gain an ally. The key is to convince Micah Stone to wed her in a temporary marriage of convenience. What would convince him? As is the case now in North Central Texas, a drought has Micah’s cattle dying for lack of water. I don't want you to think Texas is always arid, so here's a photo  while the spring bluebonnets were in bloom:

Photo by my friend Nelda Liles of Plano, Texas, taken on the spring Bluebonnet Trail near Ennis, Texas

BRAZOS BRIDE BLURB

Hope Montoya knows someone is poisoning her, but who? She suspects her mother was also poisoned and knows her father was murdered. Who wants her family eliminated? She vows to fight! She realizes she won’t last the eight months until she turns twenty-five and her uncle no longer controls her or her estate. Never will she be dominated by a man as she was by her father, as she has seen her mother and grandmothers dominated. If she marries, she gains control now, but only if she weds a man she can trust. Only one man meets her requirements. Can she trust him to protect her and capture the killer...but then to leave? She offers him cash plus land adjoining the Brazos River to save his cattle.

Brazos River near where Hope's ranch is located and near my home

Micah Stone has been in love with Hope since the first time he saw her. But he was accused of her father’s murder and surely would have hung if not for his two brothers’ aid. Most in the community still believe him guilty. But the drought has him too worried about water for his dying cattle to care about his neighbors’ opinions. When Hope proposes a paper marriage in exchange for land on the Brazos River and much needed cash, her offer rubs his pride raw. His name may be Stone, but he’s not made of it. He can’t refuse her for long, and so their adventure begins. Can he save Hope before the killer succeeds and kills both of them?

A Jimmy Thomas cover from
www.romancenovelcovers.com

BRAZOS BRIDE EXCERPT

She looked at her hands. Perhaps she was unreasonable. Or maybe insane for sympathizing with a man who'd had to work harder because of her family.
"I know it is an odd situation. If—if you wear your shirt and britches, I guess it would be all right if you slept on top of the cover here." She patted the bed beside her.

He froze. Not a muscle moved, and he only stared at her. Had she misunderstood? Did he think her offer too forward?

She babbled, "That is, if you want to. You said I should trust you. Well, maybe you would be more comfortable where you are." Why didn't he say something? Would he prefer sleeping in a chair to sharing the bed?

From the street below, she heard raucous laughter and someone called to a man named Ben. Music from a piano, she supposed in the saloon, drifted in through the open windows. A gust of breeze moved the curtains and slid across her skin. In this room, though, there was no sound.

Slowly, he rose and extinguished the lamp as he moved across the room. She slid one of the pillows beside hers then scooted down. What had possessed her to offer him half her bed? Would he think she invited more?

Too late to take it back now, for the mattress dipped as he stretched out. Quaking inside at the thought of him so near, she turned her back to him. She heard his weary sigh, as if he relaxed for the first time in a long while.

"Good night," she offered, and hoped he understood the finality of the phrase.

"Yep. Good night, Mrs. Stone." The mattress shook as he turned his back to her. She felt the soles of his feet press against her ankles. He must be several inches too long for the bed and she guessed he had to bend his legs to fit. She didn't dare turn to see firsthand.

She lay perfectly still, afraid to take a deep breath. Soon his breathing changed and she knew he slept. Outside the open window the town quieted and the distant tinkling of the piano was the only sound. Light from the full moon illuminated the room and slanted across the bed. A soft breeze drifted across her, lulling her in its caress.

With a sigh, she fought to relax, but abdominal pain kept her awake no matter how her body cried for rest. Perhaps if she planned, she’d forget the pain and chills that racked her frame.

Plan, yes. She needed a plan for food preparation when she returned to her home. No, Micah said he had a plan. Oh, dear, once more he took charge when it was her life, her home.

Maybe Aunt Sofia and Uncle Jorge would have left by then and things would be fine. Already she felt more secure. She sensed her eyelids drifting closed and the sleep’s blessed relief approaching.

A gunshot ripped apart the night.

The blast startled her and she screamed as something thudded near her head, showering her hair and face with splinters. Panic immobilized her. What had happened?

Micah dragged her onto the floor as a bullet ripped into the mattress.

Did that capture your interest? I hope so!

BUY LINKS

Here is the buy link at Amazon Kindle where BRAZOS BRIDE  is available in print and e-book:
http://www.amazon.com/Brazos-Bride-Stone-Mountain-ebook/dp/B007HS10SY/ref=sr_1_14?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332254739&sr=1-14

The buy link for the e-book at Smashwords is:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/227618?ref=CarolineClemmons

Nook's buy link is:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/brazos-bride-caroline-clemmons/1112046241?ean=2940015705805

Thank you for stopping by!

Caroline Clemmons writes mystery, romance, and adventures—although her earliest made up adventures featured her saving the West with Roy Rogers. Her career has included stay-at-home mom (her favorite job), newspaper reporter and featured columnist, assistant to the managing editor of a psychology journal, and bookkeeper. ♥ Now she writes full time and loves it! ♥ She and her husband live in rural North Central Texas with a menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with family, reading, travel, browsing antique malls and estate sales, and delving into genealogy/family history.

WHERE TO SIGN UP FOR THE KINDLE FIRE GIVEAWAY

Excerpts from some of her exceptional reviews can be found on her Website at www.carolineclemmons.com. View her Blog posts Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com and find book reviews, giveaways, interview, and miscellany.

Find her also at:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CarolineClemmonsRomances#!/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/carolinclemmons (No E in Caroline)
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/458092.Caroline_Clemmons
Also on Pinterest and Wattpad
Caroline loves ♥ to hear from readers at caroline @ carolineclemmons. com

Logging and Love by Paty Jager

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006YTKT2U

Some people may not figure my newest release, Logger in Petticoats, to be a western because it deals with logging. But logging, once the railroads connected the country, became a booming business in the west. All the majestic forests in Oregon and Washington made the early entrepreneur drool knowing they could move the logs and lumber great distances to communities that were growing but had a lack of trees.
Hank Halsey, the hero in Logger in Petticoats, had been eyeing the thick, tall pines on his family’s mountain since he was boy. But helping with the family mine and then taking care of things as each of his other brothers married, he felt obligated to do his duty. By the winter of 1891 he decided it was time to strike out on his own-harvesting the trees on their land.
Knowing very little about logging he hires a family run operation and begins learning what it takes to fall a tree properly and get it moved to the stockpile at camp. A camp of sixty men needs lots of good food to keep them doing a hard day’s work. I added a mother/daughter cooking operation to the mix but the daughter would rather be out swinging an axe than stirring a pot of stew.
Here is the blurb for Logger in Petticoats the fifth book of the Halsey brother series.
Hank Halsey believes he’s found the perfect logging crew—complete with cooks—until he discovers Kelda Neilson would rather swing an axe than flip eggs. As he sets out to prove women belong in the kitchen, he’s the one in danger of getting burned.
Strong and stubborn, Kelda Nielsen grew up falling trees and resents any man who believes she’s not capable, until Hank. He treats her like a lady and has her questioning what that means.
As Kelda and Hank’s attraction builds, she hires a cook so she can sneak out and work in the woods. But will her deceit ruin her chance at love or will hardheaded Hank realize it’s more than his love that puts a sparkle in Kelda’s eye?Excerpt:
Kelda already stood by the door, a man’s black wool coat buttoned to her neck and a wool scarf wrapped around her head. Her flushed cheeks shone in the lantern light. Her gaze met his solid and unflappable.
“If Kelda isn’t back in here in fifteen minutes you can come looking for us.” Hank said to appease Karl as he pulled on his coat,
“I don’t know what you’re worrying about. No man is going to think of Kelda in the way you’re talking.” The door hadn’t fully closed when Dag’s voice cleared the threshold.
Kelda’s shoulders drooped proving she’d heard her brother’s comment. She walked around the corner of the cookhouse to a fallen log at the backside of the building. Hank wanted to catch up to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She was a fine woman. Any man would be dang lucky to have her for a wife. He stood in front of her as she sat on the log, her face pointed toward the men’s logging boots on her feet.
Hank crouched in front of Kelda, tipping her face up to read her emotions. “Your brother sees you only as his sister. You’re a woman any man would be lucky to marry.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m the size and body of a man. Men want a small delicate woman.” She wiped at the tears, and her hands clutched his. “Don’t make Far keep me out of the woods. It’s all I have to make me happy.”
Pleading in her eyes and voice sucker punched Hank. “Why would you want to work alongside men in the woods? Women belong in the home.”
“I don’t care to work inside. I love the outdoors and the labor of logging. Don’t keep me out of the woods. It’s the one thing I can do well.”
The strong grip of her fingers on his proved her strength. He had no doubt she was a skilled woodsman…woman. He pried her fingers from his hands and held them between his palms. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you in the woods. It isn’t proper for a woman to work like that. And what if you prove too weak to handle a job and someone else gets hurt?”
“Ooooo!” Her hands ripped from his grasp and rammed him in the chest. He started tipping backwards and grabbed the first thing in reach—Kelda’s arms.
He fell back into the snow dragging Kelda on top of him.
The surprise in her eyes quickly turned to interest as she gazed down into his face. Her body sprawled across Hank, pressing him into the snow. Even with the heavy clothing, her curves were evident as her relaxed body molded over his.
Hank pushed the scarf back from her face and stared into amazing eyes that glistened from the moonlight bouncing off the snow. Her gaze searched his. The rise and fall of her chest quickened. She licked her lips…
He held her head in his hands. Inch by inch, Hank drew her lips closer, wondering if the heat and passion he’d witnessed in her eyes would be in her kiss.
“Kelda!”
The male voice broke through the insanity of his actions. Hank rolled, rose to his feet, and pulled Kelda up with him.You can find this in ebook at:Kindle
Smashwords
Nook
You can learn more about me at my blog; www.patyjager.blogspot.com website; http://www.patyjager.net or on Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/#!/paty.jager and twitter; @patyjag. 　http://tinyurl.com/7henkx3http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/123943

Say Howdy again to Keta Diablo

Dark Night of the Moon

Keta Diablo

A paranormal/historical

Read more here: Amazon Author Page

Coming to a Kindle and Nook near you on January 1, 2012

Dark Night of the Moon is the second book in the series and the sequel to Holding on to Heaven.

Creed Gatlin flees to Arizona intent on eradicating the haunting memories of his brother’s wife. His brother Brand, presumed dead, resurfaces after a long absence and with his re-emergence, the destinies of those he loves is altered forever.

In a land rife with war and danger, Sage must travel to the village of her husband’s People. There, she is reunited with Crooked Back, the ancient healer. One the long trek back to Full Circle, devious plots are underfoot and peril lurks around every corner for Sage, Lauren and Peter Pa.

Dark Night of the Moon will take you on an unforgettable journey of war, violence, overwhelming grief, and finally, compassion and love.

* * *

 Excerpt from Dark Night of the Moon: Sage takes an arrow intended for the wolf

Late in the afternoon, Sage emerged from the tipi. She didn't have to search for Looks Back. He lurked outside the lodge like a Roman soldier guarding a sacred tomb. She pointed to the woods -- a sign she needed to relieve her bladder.

A bow and a quiver of arrows hung from his left shoulder and tucked into the waistband of his breachclout, the shiny handle of his long knife glistened beneath the hot sun. 

With Looks Back dogging the heels of her moccasins, Sage selected a clearing surrounded by tall pines and dense underbrush. Respecting her privacy, the brave turned his back, but kept his sharp eyes peeled on the outskirts of the clearing.

The branches on a nearby scrub rustled. No doubt a critter searching for his next meal. The eerie feeling someone was watching her claimed her again, a sensation she couldn't ignore. She turned her head toward the noise and uttered a quiet gasp when her eyes met the yellow eyes of the wolf. "Walking Spirit," she whispered, her heart pounding.

Time hung suspended on the boundary of sanity and absurd. Reason told her men didn't turn into wolves, and yet she knew in her heart her man had.
 
Looks Back spun around, his keen sense alerted to danger. He pulled an arrow from his quiver as Sage scrambled to her feet and adjusted her clothing. His eyes narrowed; he notched and arrow drew back on the sinew.

"No!" she screamed and lunged toward the shrub. A white-hot pain shot through her chest. She looked down and watched the blood soak her doeskin dress. My blood? Sage fell to her knees and then crumbled to the ground, the canopy of pine branches spinning overhead. "Run, Walking Spirit, run," she gasped between pain-filled breaths.

Looks Back loomed over her, his face masked in terror. He drew her into his arms and sprinted back to camp, stumbling over his own feet as he entered Mad Bear's lodge. Laying her on her berth of soft branches he knelt beside her and stared at the arrow embedded in her torso. 

Pain choked her when she turned to look at him. "You must pull the arrow
out." 

Tremors claimed his lean body when the howl of the wolf split the still air. He rose and paced the tipi, his eyes locked on the opening. 

"You must pull it out! If you don't, I'll die, and so will you when Mad Bear returns." 

He came to an abrupt halt, his face white with fear. "I can not do this thing."
 
"You can and you will." She didn't believe for a minute he cared about her welfare, but she had to convince him if he didn't remove the arrow Mad Bear would kill him when he returned. That was her only chance.

He knelt beside her again, sweat from his forehead trickling into his dark eyebrows. He jumped when the haunting lament from the wolf echoed around them.

"Soon I will lose consciousness from the loss of blood. You must hurry --break it off close to the skin."

His voice trembled. "Then what must I do?"

"Dig the arrow out with your knife."

"No, no. Do not ask this of Looks Back."

Struggling for breath, she rose to an elbow and stared into his dark eyes. "You listen to me. I'll be dead by nightfall if you don't. My medicine pouch, there." She pointed to a shelf over her berth. Find the bone needle and pull a strong hair from your horse's tail to sew up the wound when you're done."

The brave rose, pulled the pouch from the shelf and handed it to her.She dumped the contents on the floor and held a twisted stem before him. "Cat's claw. Once the arrow is removed, place the leaves over the wound and
cover it with a wet rag."

He shook his head. 

"No more talk." She softened her voice. "If you plan to grow old, you must remove it. Now, find a leather thong I can put between my teeth, and be quick."

* * *

For more on Keta Diablo, visit her website and blog.

 Keta is offering an ebook to one lucky commenter from yesterday and today's post . Please leave your name and e-mail below to be eligible to win. Your e-mail will never be used by Keta for any purpose other than this contest. However, if you'd like to sign up for her newsletter, you can do that here: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com (upper right hand corner). The owner of Cowboy Kisses will select a winner tomorrow and announce it on the blog. Winner will also be notified by e-mail. GOOD LUCK everyone!

Say Howdy to Keta Diablo

Holding On To Heaven

Erotic Romance/Historical

Keta Diablo

AVAILABLE NOW ON KINDLE AND NOOK: Amazon Author Page

Watch the Video trailer: http://bit.ly/lbBTir

BLURB:

When the blazing fires of revolt ravage the countryside, Lauren and Sage McCain are trapped amid the flames of destiny. The Civil War has crumbled a Nation, and the Dakota Sioux uprising has turned southern Minnesota into a violent battlefield.

Holding on to Heaven is a story of love between two men and a woman, love between siblings, and love that crosses all boundaries and forges all cultures.

* * *

Setup and Excerpt: The Horse Race. Creed and Lauren race against one another at a family gathering.  An experienced rider, Lauren soon realizes she can’t beat Creed unless she cheats.

* * *

Through the pounding heartbeat in Lauren’s ears she realized she wanted Creed, wanted him like she’d never wanted another. Damn, had she lost her mind? The man reeked danger and abandon, would take her body quicker than . . . no, it wouldn’t be quick. He’d take her slow. Their love would be wild, crazy and passionate, all the things she’d yearned for, craved, in the dark solace of her dreams. Lord, how she wished she’d never laid eyes on the decadent man.  

Brand’s calm voice pulled her from her tumultuous thoughts. “Time for that race, Lauren.” He rose and offered her his arm. “I’m placing my money on you.”

“I wouldn’t advise you do that.”

“You can beat Creed. Concentrate, and no matter how much you want to see if he’s about to run you over, don’t look back.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded. “It’s going to take a miracle to win, isn’t it?”

“Miracles happen every day.” He brought his fingers to her face and brushed her cheek. “Ride like you rode against me today and you have a chance.”

* * * *

An indefinable feeling snaked through Creed’s gut when Brand walked forward with Lauren. Anna pressed her voluptuous breasts into his side and wished him luck, but he didn’t hear her words. Tired of Anna’s continual demands, the time had come for them to go separate ways. He’d known Anna for years, but only in the last several months had he succumbed to her fleshy curves. The woman had tried every wile known to female to rein him in, and all had failed. Although warm and eager, Anna had never held his interest for more than an hour or two. But then no woman had ever intrigued him the way Lauren McCain did.

He’d stifled the jolt of lust pedaling through his veins as she watched him during the meal. It had taken all his reserve to act detached while she sat beside his brother and flashed her cat-like eyes at him. He didn’t like the feelings she aroused in him. They left him sullen and edgy. Jesus, what in hell was wrong with him? He barely knew the she-cat with a tongue sharper than barbs.

Now, with every step she took toward him, the blood rushed to his groin. He wasn’t prepared for the vision she presented, the snug riding pants and filmy blouse. A dark brown ribbon held her hair back from her face and then tumbled down her back in a veil of burnished copper. The color of those silky tresses reminded him of autumn leaves. Brown eyes slanted upward at the corners, topped by arched brows that rose articulately depending on her expression. How had he missed that nuance when he’d committed to memory every other feature of her face?

Tall for a woman and thinner than smoke, he imagined running his hands down the small of her back, her perfect bottom and . . . hell, he had to stop thinking about fucking her all the time. He had to beat her in the race, and beat her he would. Smiling to himself, he savored the thought of what it would be like to take her down a notch or two. Only then would that smirk be wiped from her lovely face—the I’m-better-than-you-sneer she flaunted now as she sashayed forward.

“Miss McCain, I hope you haven’t gorged yourself.” Inwardly, he smiled when color stained her cheeks. “I’d hate to see your mount weighted down for the final race.”

“Don’t worry about Adobe or me.” She spat the words and mounted. “We’re more than ready to leave you in our dust.”

The gold flecks in her eyes sparked. For a brief moment he forgot about the crowd and longed to yank her from the saddle and introduce her back to the dust she spoke of.

“To your success.” Creed raised his tankard of ale, downed it and set it on the ground near his feet. He spoke to Mason as he swung a leg over the saddle, his words confident and bold. “Let’s be about it then.”

The crowd broke into rowdy whistles and then fell silent at Mason’s words. “On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three!”

The horses bolted at the retort of the pistol. Adobe and Creed’s black mare ran neck and neck to the opposite end of the field. Thick clumps of sod flew through the air from Adobe’s hooves as he sailed over the bundles in perfect sync with Creed’s mount. He dragged his gaze from her expert riding skills and concentrated on the race.

Someone obviously had warned her not to look over her shoulder. She rode low, close to the stallion’s mane her lush body one with the horse. The very air enveloping them groaned with a competitive edge he’d never felt before. The spitfire intended to beat him at any cost.

Although fleet of foot, his mare lacked size against the stallion. When they reached the bales at the far end of the field, his time had come to overtake her. Her stallion navigated the crazy-eight with ease, and so did the mare. His moment was at hand. As the mounts crossed over and headed for opposite sides, she dug her heels into Adobe’s side and drove him into the mare’s withers. His horse stumbled to her stifles, her frightened whinnies echoing through the air. Lauren pressed on without as much as a backward glance.

The mare found her footing and like her rider, rage spurned her onward. She made up for the precious lost seconds the reckless stunt had cost them, but not enough to charge over the finish line before the stallion.

The crowd went wild as the riders swept past them in a swirling haze of dust. Damn, the cheating bitch had won. Halting near the corral, Lauren dismounted and bolted from her mount.

Creed dogged her heels, so close, he saw her knees quake. “You cheated!” He advanced and poked a finger into her chest. “You could have killed me with that crazy stunt you pulled!”

She backed away, visibly shaken. “Whatever are you talking about? You lost, fair and square.”

He screamed so loud, she jumped. “Liar!”

“Your clumsy mount lost her footing and plowed into Adobe!” Their gazes locked, and in that infinitesimal moment, he lost pace with his breathing. “You, Creed Gatlin,” she said her voice quavering. “Were bested by a mere woman so live with it.”

“You’re no woman.” He didn’t know if he wanted to ring her slender neck or toss her to the ground and slam into her until she admitted that she cheated. “You’re a spoiled little bitch!”

An audible gasp fell from her lips before her brown eyes narrowed.

“You could never beat me fair and square and you know it.” He struggled to control his emotions. She’d beaten him in the race, albeit by cheating, but why did he sense she was beating him again now? 

Her bottom lip trembled. He became aware of her childlike vulnerability, and his potent desire for her. The cutting remarks, the bold, confident persona were nothing more than a façade on her part. Her nearness sent his senses reeling―the scent of woman, horse and leather adding to the roaring chaos in his head. She stumbled on the words she tried to speak and tears filled her eyes.

“Leave, now,” he said. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

She raised her dainty chin and held his eyes for an eternity it seemed. Then her long lashes swept down across her cheeks before she bustled passed him in a cloud of dust. 

 

 Tune in tomorrow for more from Keta Diablo
 Keta is offering an ebook to one lucky commenter from today and tomorrow. Please leave your name and e-mail below to be eligible to win. Your e-mail will never be used by Keta for any purpose other than this contest. However, if you'd like to sign up for her newsletter, you can do that here: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com (upper right hand corner). The owner of Cowboy Kisses will select a winner tomorrow and announce it on the blog. Winner will also be notified by e-mail. GOOD LUCK everyone!