Here you go: a little snippet from Eddie’s Prize. This is a scene that takes place the night before the Bride Fights.

      It was after midnight when Eddie crept on bare feet to the room Lisa and Carla had been given. His parents were finally in bed. They had stayed up late discussing the applicants for the Bride Fight, deciding who would be allowed to enter, but had banned him from joining the conversation.

      The furious whispers coming from the women’s room fell silent when he tapped softly. After a moment, Carla voice said, “Who is it?”

      “It’s me. Eddie. Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”

      After a moment the door opened and Carla stepped back to let him in. She was dressed for bed, her still-damp brown hair in a braid down her back. Eddie looked past her to where Lisa sat hunched on the side of the bed, her blond hair glorious in the dim glow of the lamp, her pale face miserable. Her fingers pleated a corner of the sheet with jerky movements. Eddie wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. Instead he put his hands in his jeans’ pockets and tried to smile.

      “What do you want?” Carla asked rudely.

      “Sh! Not so loud,” Eddie whispered. “Let’s not wake up my parents.”

      “Are you supposed to be here?” Carla asked.

      That made Eddie smile. “Of course not. I’m going to be fighting tomorrow. If the other men knew I was here they’d think I was taking unfair advantage.”

      Carla’s glare could have parted his hair. “You’re fighting tomorrow? In this stupid Bride Fight thing?”

      “Sh!” said Eddie again. “Yes, for Lisa.” Did that sound rude? “You’re very pretty too,” Eddie hurried to say. “But—”

      Carla cut him off with the first real smile he’d seen from her. “That’s okay. I hope no one shows up to fight for me.”

      Eddie remembered the dozens of men who had passed through his father’s office that evening, especially Taye Wolfe, who had stood with arms folded grimly over his chest for the entire visiting hour, glaring at each and every admiring comment made about Carla.

      Eddie didn’t say anything. He looked over at Lisa. She had crumpled the sheet in one fist and was gazing at him pitifully. She reminded him of a half-drowned kitten. The prettiest, sweetest half-drowned kitten he could imagine.

Here is a little snip from Book 5.  A man named Jeremy has been sent to Taye to tell him that his little cousin Ellie needs help. Enjoy!

 

         

        The Wolfe compound was large and well guarded by a solid stone wall eight feet high. It looked to Jeremy like Mrs. Overdahl hadn’t exaggerated her cousin’s wealth. Only a man of means could hold a place like this. Jeremy presented himself at the gate and waited for the small reinforced window in the gate to open to ask his business.

            The face in the small window was cold with suspicion. “Who are you and what do you want?”

            “I’m Jeremy Potter, here on business from Mrs. Overdahl, Mr. Wolfe’s cousin. I have an urgent message from her.”

            The gate was opened instantly and two very large dogs pressed against him, herding him into the compound. His horse came with him, snorting uneasily. A cluster of half-naked Native American men stood watching him. One of them looked him over.

            “Give me all your weapons.”

            Jeremy silently handed over his pistol and his knife, and waved a hand at the rifle in the saddle scabbard. “That’s all.”

            The guy nodded. “Snake, Blaze, take him in to see the Chief. Paint, look after his horse.”

            Two men flanked Jeremy like guards. When he got into a large room with a big fireplace he understood why he was being treated like a possible threat. Beside the fireplace sat a hugely pregnant woman with long brown hair. Standing protectively beside her on one side was a fiercely scowling man, and on the other side a three-year-old boy scowled just as fiercely. From the looks of their faces, they were obviously father and son. Several men lounged around the room, bodies appearing relaxed, but eyes keenly watchful. Their stares made Jeremy want to squirm. He turned his attention back to the man beside the woman.

        “Mr. Wolfe?”Jeremy asked.

        The man gave one sharp jerk of his head.

        “I’m Jeremy Potter. I work for the Ryan Thomas Trading Company.” There Jeremy stalled briefly. “Your cousin, Mrs. Overdahl, sent me with a message for you.”

        “Oh, thank goodness!” said the woman. “We haven’t heard from Ellie in ages. How is she?”

       When Jeremy hesitated, the weight of the eyes on him grew heavier. “She’s well,” he said carefully. “But she needs your help.”

        Taye Wolfe leaned forward, dark eyes hard under lowered brows. “What do you mean?”

        Jeremy swallowed. “Her husband has died, and she has been sold to the Trading Company to be taken to Ellsworth. The men there are having a Bride Fight in a week or so …”

        A snarl jerked Jeremy’s head around. He saw nothing but men with angry faces. No longer lounging in relaxed sprawls, they looked ready to spring. Most of the men were clearly Native American, but one of them had curly brown hair rather than straight black hair. He was on his feet, practically shaking. With rage? Jeremy was certain it was rage that clenched his fists and jaw. Jeremy hesitated before turning his back on the man.

        Taye Wolfe’s set, angry face wasn’t any less scary. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of Jeremy’s neck.

         “Where is my cousin?” Wolfe rasped.

This is from when Lisa is coming into Kearney for the first time. She and Carla are in a horse-drawn wagon a day after the plane crash.

Carla leaned toward Lisa. “Are you okay?” she asked with compassion. “Are you thinking about the little boy?”

Lisa nodded jerkily. Unlike some children she had encountered on planes, the four-year-old redhead sitting in the seat in front of her had been a perfect angel, quietly coloring and playing giggling peek-a-boo games with his mother. When the plane had finally come to its metallic screeching stop on the prairie, the mother was dead and the little boy so badly hurt that he could only cry almost soundlessly. Lisa had picked him up and numbly carried him out of the plane, allowing Carla to help her down to the ground, but never letting the boy go. She had hummed to him while he bled and cried and finally died. Lisa didn’t know what his last name had been. His mother had called him Alexander. All she had left of him was his blood on her clothes and the memory of his half-smile when he looked up at her right before he died.

That memory was too precious and too painful to linger on at this moment. There were other people counting on her and Carla now, those too hurt to go for help themselves, who needed doctors so they could live. The mayor of Kearney, Nebraska would get the crash survivors the help they needed. Even the crazy men from Odessa had done what they could to help by bringing them here. For the two hundredth time, Lisa forced her thoughts away from the crash to focus on the here and now.

 She stared past the driver’s shoulder. “Is this an actual town? It looks as dilapidated as some of the abandoned houses we passed on our walk.”

 Buildings looked like they had been half torn down and their windows taken away. There was a familiar fast food restaurant to their right, looking like it had been out of business for fifty years, abandoned for the elements to fade and wear away.

“The recession must have hit this area hard,” Carla suggested doubtfully.

 Further in, roads became smoother, and it looked like efforts had been made to clean things up. They rolled past walls that separated whole blocks. The road went from dirt to something like cobblestones. The wagon seat bounced like a car with bad shocks. Even Carla, tough as she was, looked a little green. Lisa was afraid her lunch was going to escape. Soon they began seeing people, all men, come out of buildings and take notice of them.

“Women!” shouted one, pointing at the wagon.