I can't believe I have written and published 100 books. What a milestone for me. I never thought in 2010 when I first started this publishing journey that I would make it this far. But I've had do much fun writing stories. I pray the Lord will keep me alive long enough to write and publish even more stories and further my writing career.
So, to let you see what book #100 looks like, here is the first chapter of Rubies and Rivers.
Blub:
Whitney
Brooks compares herself to Robin Hood. She steals from the rich to give to the
poor. But she only takes money from bad people. However, after she is crippled
in a carriage accident, she must change her ways. Now, she is righting the
wrongs in her life, and she ends up in Fort Benton, Montana. When she
recognizes a man from her past, she fears U.S. Marshal Jake Sterling might just
arrest her.
Although
Jake Sterling is not a hero, he takes his job seriously and follows an outlaw
to Fort Benton. Jake has a gut feeling that the outlaw will steal the rubies
coming on one of the steamboats. But the more he gets to know the woman who is
lovelier than a desert rose, the more he believes she is a thief and working
side-by-side with the outlaw. How can he tell his heart that Whitney isn’t the
woman for him when her passionate kisses tell him differently?
Chapter One:
Standing
still, like the dead, was her only option.
Footsteps
shook the floor and entered the study. Panic filled Whitney Brooks as she
closed her eyes, hoping the intruder wouldn’t notice she was hiding behind the
heavy drapes covering the only window in the room. Her heartbeat quickened, and
she took slow breaths to keep calm. Yet, under the circumstances, how could she
remain composed when she feared they’d find her? Being locked away in jail – or
even hung – was not an option!
The
person in the room stopped. Whitney held her breath. It was Mr. Crowley
himself. His scent gave him away without having to peek around the drape and
look at him. The man’s overbearing cologne wafted thickly through the air,
making her want to gag. He smelled like a horse… like the animal’s droppings
inside the stalls, no less. How could anyone stand to be around him when his
scent was this horrid?
Inwardly,
she groaned. She was going to be sick all over his floor unless he left
quickly. If he didn’t discover where her hiding place was now, he’d definitely
know she was here when she regurgitated.
Slowly,
she lifted a hand to cover her nose. Whitney couldn’t blow her cover now.
Because
of the thick, blue velvet drape blocking her view, she couldn’t see Mr. Crowley
or why he had left his wife’s birthday party to venture into his study. His
grumbles vibrated through the room. Whatever he was doing, he wasn’t having
much success. She knew the feeling well. If he didn’t leave soon, she wouldn’t
have much success stealing from him, either.
Whitney
hadn’t originally started out to be a thief. On the contrary, but when her best
friend’s father gambled away their money, leaving Constance destitute, Whitney
knew she had to help. Constance needed money for the stagecoach to Utah, where
her older sister and husband lived and would take care of her. Constance’s
grandfather, Mr. Crowley, was a greedy old man and wouldn’t lift a finger to
help his granddaughter. He hadn’t even invited Constance or her father to this
party tonight.
And
so, Whitney would nudge the greedy old man into assisting dear Constance, even
if he didn’t realize it.
Mr.
Crowley grumbled. He was too close. Whitney could even smell his breath. He’d
been eating fish. Her heart sank, and her stomach lurched. Had he found her?
Yet, as she waited for him to whip back the drape and catch her, the moment
never arrived. A few times, she caught herself holding her breath too long, and
so she had to slowly exhale and draw in another breath as silently as she
could. So then, who was he talking to just now? Himself?
A
low rumble came from the man as he chuckled. Whatever he was doing, he was at
his desk, and she specifically heard the rustle of papers. She was tempted to
move the drape just a bit to watch him, but she resisted. If he didn’t know she
was here, she certainly didn’t want to make him aware of her presence.
A
drawer closed, and more papers rustled before his heavy footsteps moved out of
the room. Once the door clicked shut, she released a heavy breath. Her limbs
shook as she relaxed against the window. However, she couldn’t hesitate for
very long. She had money to find and to get herself back downstairs before
someone noticed she was missing from the party.
On
soft feet, she moved away from the window and resumed her search through the
study. Constance mentioned that her grandfather kept some of his money in his
favorite room. Because he was always in this particular room, Constance assumed
it was his favorite. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t know exactly where the
old man hid it. Whitney figured he wouldn’t miss fifty dollars. And, after all,
it was going toward a good cause.
Being
as quiet as a mouse, she pulled out each drawer of his desk, moving papers
aside as she searched for the wad of money. Nothing. From there, she wandered
to each scenery painting hanging on the wall and peeked behind them. Still
nothing.
Whitney
grumbled and shook her head. Where could it be?
Against
the far wall stood two ebonized bookcases filled with volumes. The lower fourth
of the shelf was a locked cupboard. Immediately, she recalled seeing a skeleton
key when she’d searched through the desk. She hurried and retrieved the key and
then knelt to see if it fit inside the keyhole.
Her
hand shook, making it a little difficult to slide the key into the hole, but
finally she accomplished that feat. Moisture beaded her forehead, and she
grumbled under her breath. Perhaps she should have found an easier way to get
money from Mr. Crowley. Yet, she knew the man's stubbornness, especially toward
Constance’s family.
When
the lock clicked open, Whitney nearly squealed with delight. Excitement pumped
through her as she peered inside. Stacks of money rested in this secret safe. There
was no way Mr. Crowley would miss fifty dollars. She nibbled on her bottom lip.
Perhaps she should take one hundred dollars, just in case Constance needed
more.
After
pulling out the money, she carefully closed the safe and placed the key back in
the drawer. She shoved the money in her wrist purse and hurried to the door.
Slowly, she opened it and peeked into the hallway. Music drifted from the
ballroom on the first floor, but thankfully, she couldn’t detect any voices.
Smoothing
her palms down her baby blue silk gown, she took a deep breath and straightened
her shoulders. It was now time to put on a performance of her own – entering
the party as if she were the most innocent woman here.
Whitney
entered, taking calculated steps as she glided into the room. A colorful
whirlwind of silk and satin gowns filled the old man’s ballroom. Available men
stood around the single ladies, doing their best to charm them. Whitney didn’t
have to worry about being considered one of these women. Being a widow, most
men didn’t consider her marriage material, even though she was only
twenty-four. They were all searching for a wealthier widow.
She
scanned the large room, searching for her friend, Emily. James and Emily
Randolph had been good friends of Whitney’s deceased husband.
Since
Alan’s death almost a year ago, Whitney’s friends had slowly disappeared. No
longer could she consider herself close with anyone. They remained
acquaintances instead of friends. She knew it was because Alan had been almost
broke when he died. Thankfully, his debts were paid before he left this world.
She barely had enough to survive, but she’d make it work, even if she had to
gradually start selling off the many artifacts Alan had collected over the
years.
As
the months passed by, she felt she should find another husband. Being married
to Alan was no picnic, but how else would she be able to support herself? She’d
never felt so free until after his death, and she hesitated in entering another
loveless marriage. It was either that or find a way to make money so that she
could continue to live.
The
sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and wide white columns circled the
room. The papered walls were beautifully decorated, as were the shelves and end
tables where vases of flowers were placed. Mrs. Crowley enjoyed flaunting her
wealth, which made Whitney sick. Why have so much money if they wouldn’t share
it with their children and grandchildren?
Whitney
walked along the wall, still searching for Emily. When she passed a gilded
mirror, she glanced at her reflection. Her cheeks were redder than she’d
wanted, probably because she felt as though people would be able to read her
mind, to know what she’d been doing only moments ago.
Her
blonde ringlets were still in place, thankfully. And her face didn’t hold any
of the perspiration she’d suffered with while in Mr. Crowley’s study. Guilt
still filled her mind and made her green eyes darker. At least that’s why she
thought they appeared darker. Either that or it was the lighting in the room.
“Oh,
there you are, Whitney,” Emily said, coming up behind her and touching her
shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Whitney
spun around to face her friend. The slightly older woman – by ten years –
looked lovely in her peach gown. Whitney always thought Emily’s natural beauty
was her greatest asset. That, and of course, her cheery disposition. Then
again, Emily was in love with her husband, and they had a happy marriage.
“Oh,
forgive me, my friend,” Whitney frowned. “I had to step out for a moment. I was
feeling very stuffy.”
The
other woman nodded. “That’s completely understandable.” She took a deep breath
and then turned to the gentleman standing behind her. “Whitney Brooks, may I
present Mr. Jake Sterling, a friend of mine. He is the U.S. Marshal in our
area. And Mr. Sterling, this is my very good friend Mrs. Whitney Brooks.”
Whitney
held out her hand, and Mr. Sterling took it gently in his for a small shake. He
was quite handsome if she must admit. Tall, with broad shoulders, and dark
brown hair, he was a man who could make women swoon. “What a pleasure to meet
you, Marshal.”
“And
it’s always a pleasure to meet Mrs. Randolph’s friends.”
It
was hard to look away from his handsome face. His gray eyes sparkled when he
grinned, and a cute little dimple dented his left cheek. She enjoyed the way
his hair waved back on his head as if he had a touch of natural curl. But what
captured her attention was the dark shadow of a mustache and beard. She
wondered if he had just suddenly been invited to the party and didn’t have time
to shave. Although she enjoyed a clean-shaven man, she was certain by ten
o’clock at night, his shadow would be fascinating.
The
man was dressed in a black tailcoat with matching trousers, a gold vest, white
shirt, and a black string tie. By the expensive cut of the material, she knew
he was a man of means. The gold color of his vest gave his face a darker hue to
his skin and brought out his gray eyes a little more. Whatever it was about him
that made him so blindly handsome, she could stare at him for hours without
getting bored.
“When
I saw you earlier,” Mr. Sterling said, “I knew I had to beg an introduction
from Mrs. Randolph.”
Whitney
hitched a breath, and at the same time, tried not to look too worried. When did
he see her? She hoped he hadn’t witnessed her going into Mr. Crowley’s study –
or leaving it. Because of Mr. Sterling’s profession, this was a man she didn’t
want to make suspicious. “How kind of you, Marshal.”
“Are
you still feeling stuffy, Mrs. Brooks?” he asked.
Her
heart flipped. Heavens, she enjoyed the deepness of his voice. “Uh, yes, Marshal
Sterling. At times, the heat is nearly suffocating.”
“I
must agree. I fear there are too many people for this size of ballroom.”
“You
know,” Emily added, “I was thinking that very thing.”
“Mrs.
Brooks, if you don’t mind, may I request the pleasure of this next dance?
Unless, of course, you are not feeling well enough.”
Her
heart hammered. Although she should turn him down, she needed to make him her
friend. She couldn’t have him knowing about the money she’d stolen. “Actually,
I’m not, but—”
Suddenly,
Mr. Crowley’s panicked voice boomed through the room. “I’ve been robbed!”
Fear
gripped Whitney’s throat, and she froze. Marshal Sterling muttered his
apologies and rushed toward Mr. Crowley. The crowd crept toward the rich man,
as well. Suddenly, the room closed in around her, and she couldn’t breathe.
Voices were lifted in shock and panic.
Emily
left Whitney’s side as well, and moved toward the hosts. She needed to get out
of here. Now! What if they started searching their guests? They would find the
money in her wrist purse, for sure.
Slowly,
she backed away. As the guests pushed forward, she withdrew toward the door.
When she made it, she darted outside. Breathing in the fresh night air, she
concentrated on hurrying to her buggy before anyone noticed her.
She
climbed in and whipped the reins, urging the horse into a fast trot. Once she
passed the estate gates, she pushed the animal faster. The turn in the road
came upon her too quickly, and she couldn’t slow the horse down. The vehicle
bounced on the uneven road a few times before tipping.
She
released the reins and gripped onto the seat. She was going down with the
buggy, and most assuredly, it would be painful.
The
vehicle hit the ground. The motion jerked her loose, tossing her out of the
buggy as if she was a rag doll. She rolled a few times on the ground, only
stopping when she knocked into a boulder. The buggy tumbled toward her. She
scrambled to get out of its way, but it was too late. The vehicle rested on top
of her, pinning her legs underneath.
Ripping
pain shot through her limbs, and she screamed. She couldn’t move the vehicle.
It was too heavy. As tears streamed down her face, she struggled to release her
legs, but they wouldn’t budge.
This
time, a burning sting spread through her, and her legs turned numb. No! This couldn’t be happening.
“Someone
help me. Please!”
Her
chest ached with guilt. If she hadn’t taken the money, she would still be at
Crowley’s party. Instead, she lay on the ground, unable to move. Nobody would
hear her cries, and yet if someone didn’t come soon to rescue her, she feared
she’d lose the use of her legs. In agony, she relaxed on the ground and cried
out her anguish.
From
this moment on, her life would never be the same.
This book is available on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and in paperback.
https://www.amazon.com/Rubies-Rivers-Gems-West-Book-ebook/dp/B09K4JQRHW
