Here’s a short snippet from the latest story, which will be featured in our Western Fictioneers anthology this Fall.
Devon Day and the Sweetwater Kid were on the way back from a very successful banking transaction — that is, Chance Knight and his partner Kye Devon were headed to the Inter-Ocean Hotel in Denver. Dev and Sweet had, with their usual panache, vanished like the puff of smoke from a gunshot after the robbery.
The only problem, in Chance’s opinion, was that there was no train service to Nevadaville. Thus, to reach the bank, they’d been forced to utilize this inferior mode of travel — and after most of a day, the stagecoach was starting to wear on Chance. Not to mention the condition of his rear end on the hard seat. Their driver seemed to go out of his way to hit every hole in what passed for a road in the benighted wilderness.
As they stopped in yet another mountain hamlet, he took the opportunity to stretch his legs, leaving his snoring partner inside the stage with their unremarkable canvas bag as his pillow. Maybe a cup of coffee would settle Chance’s stomach. He stepped up to the door of the tiny cafe next to the stage stop, just in time to open it for the Classy Lady inside.
He put on a Suave Face and gave her a little bow as he held the door for her. Fine shoes, the latest fashion in skirts (emerald green velvet with gold trim), topped with a sensible traveling hat over expensively-coiffured auburn locks. The Lady was Classy all right.
Chance had never met a woman who wasn’t lovely. Sometimes you had to look a bit harder, but they all had that certain something. This Lady though … big green eyes, flawless complexion, a delicate chin and a mouth that needed kissing often. He felt a genuine smile stretch his own lips.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he murmured as she passed. She smiled down at him, but said nothing.
Chance noted with interest that she headed for the very door though which he’d exited. Was their little party to be enlarged by one? One such would certainly make the time pass more quickly.