Fight in Progress!

Disclaimer: This fight is a work in progress.

Quinn rode closer to the camp, dismounting at the firelight's ring. "Smells right inviting." He nodded at the woman and the plate of beans in her hand.


"When she ain't burnin' it or dumpin' it on ya." The old timer turned his attention to the woman. "Get the man the rest of 'em vittles."

Quinn watched her. She glanced longingly at the beans and then handed him the plate. As he took the plate he noticed that her hands were tethered. A length of rope kept her within the ring of firelight.

"Have a sit. Move woman or ya'll get no blanket tonight."

The woman eyed her captor, an inkling of hunger mixing with the loathing glare. She moved away from him as far as her tether would allow.

Quinn nodded his thanks and grudgingly took her seat on a comfortable rock. He spooned a healthy bite into his mouth. They tasted awful. What had she done to them? The old timer took his place on a ratty stool and resumed his meal, seemingly unaware of the offensive taste.

"Bet cha'r wondrun' 'bout this." The old man traced the tether in the air with his spoon.

Quinn nodded in a nonchalant manner taking a smaller bite of beans.

"Ungrateful wretch. Saved 'er life, I did. An' this 'eres the result."

"She volunteered to be your slave, did she?" Quinn knew better, but wanted to hear the old timers version of the story. Nothing made it right to tether a woman like this, especially one that seemed rather unhappy about it. If she were a cattle wrestler than it might be different.

"Jus' opposite. Old Curly saves her life an' she weren't even appreciable. Ya ever heard of that?"

"I said 'thanks'," the woman said.

Curly yanked hard on the rope causing her to fall. Quinn considered the rope, following it with his eyes to find it anchored to a large rock near Curly.

Anger boiled in Quinn's throat. You couldn't force someone to be thankful and if anything Curly had heaped the wrath of a woman on himself. He managed to hide his feelings. Could Curly be reasoned with? Was Curly the type of man to seek revenge if Quinn stepped in to ruin his plans? Would he have to outright kill Curly to set the woman free? At best, Curly had warped motives for keeping her within his grasp.

"Women," Quinn drawled. "Seems they're more trouble than they're worth. Are you a gambling man, Curly?"

"Thinking of takin' 'er off my hands, are ya?" Curly shook his head. "Not 'fore I get my poke."

"Tough time getting that poke?"

"Ain't been the time."

"So what's stopping you?" Quinn measured the man across the campfire from him, disgust growing with his every word.

"Nothun now. My belly's full. I ain't a greedy feller. Ya can 'ave a go, jus' as well. Then we know what stakes we're playin' fer."

Quinn looked around to see the woman grasping a stout branch in her hands, obviously planning to stand her ground.

"No way. Over my dead body. You want a go? I'll take your manhood first," she hissed.

"Wretch!"

Quinn stood turning to face her, the plate of beans forgotten. He spread his hands, his fingers extended. He tried to reassure her, mouthing the words, "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

Curly's shadow grew, then distorted as he skirted the fire. "Ya go fer 'er hands. I'll hog tie 'er."

Quinn's hand recoiled at the same time he spun. His knife flashed once before sinking into Old Curly's shoulder. The stout branch caught him off guard. The second swipe hit him and all went black.

====
Okay, I'm being mean, but you'll have to read the book when it's released next spring to fine out who won the fight.
Talisman Series
Criss Cross for Love

Fiesty Friday with Dave Butler

Excerpt from Liahona is used by permission of the author.

He clambered down into a kneeling position between the two bunks and dug for a box of lucifers in his pocket. With a practiced twitch of the wrist, he snapped a match along the outside of the box, and it sputtered into flame—

a hard-toed boot kicked Jed Coltrane in the face, and his vision exploded into stars.

“The hell!?” he yelled, and tried to roll away.

For his trouble, another kick crashed into his ribs and he spun through the air, slamming hard into the iron door of the cabin.

Forget the knife. Jed pulled the Pinkerton’s gun from under his arm and squeezed the trigger. Zing! Zing! The odd weapon only flared slightly in the pitch black cabin, but as the bullets clanged off the room’s walls and bit their way into the furniture, they threw up sparks, enough for Jed to see a shadowy form looming up in front of him.

Damn thing didn’t seem to have legs—
zing!—
the boot, or maybe it wasn’t a boot after all, smashed Jed’s gun hand and his lost his grip on the pistol, which disappeared into the gloom.

“Damn you—” he shouted, and then a strong hand with long nails, almost like claws, grabbed his throat and threw him bodily to the floor, a knee on his chest and something cold and hard against his cheek.

He smelled lavender. And soap. Some sort of cloak fell around him, covering his chest and legs.

“Hold still, shorty, or I’ll cut out your eyeball.” The voice was so incongruously sweet that it took him a few seconds to realize that it was feminine.

Coltrane, you just got beat down by a woman.

The hand—the soft, sweet-scented hand—came away from his throat and he heard a click. A blue light sprang into being a few inches above his face, a glimmering globe held in the palm of a woman who was graceful, fierce, freckle-faced, cute as a button, and kneeling on Jed’s sternum. She wore dark goggles on her eyes and held a curving, vicious-looking knife to his face.

Not a woman, dammit. A girl. Poe’s gonna kill me.

Here is the Liahona Amazon link

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008EPGDWC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008EPGDWC&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B008EPGDWC

And here is the Liahona Smashwords link:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/175871

I am happy to announce that Deseret will be released this month as well.
  (Links below picture.)











Amazon:


http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008NERR5Q/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008NERR5Q&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20

Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/206976