Old Haunts Excerpt

Honest westerns. Full of dishonest characters.

 

Readers are giving Old Haunts great ratings. After two months, the new Steve Dancy Tale has nearly a hundred Amazon ratings for a score of 4.5 and a Goodreads ratings of 4.7. 

Here is an excerpt.

What happened next surprised me. The marshal cold-cocked him from behind with his pistol. The supposed Cutler offspring crumbled like a scarecrow cut from his supporting stick. He had been knocked out twice in as many hours. I bet this confrontation wasn’t how he had envisioned it in his imagination.

The marshal gave me a sideways glance. “What’s your beef with this man?”

“None. He seems to think he has a beef with me, but I never saw him before he accosted me on the train. I told him he was mistaken and asked him to return to his seat. This was the first I saw of him since.”

The marshal shook his head, “Well, I guess I gotta sort this out. I’ll hold him for a day or so. Damn, this morning started out nice and quiet.”

Sharp asked. “Ya need help with ‘em, marshal?”

“Ah do,” the marshal replied.

“Give ‘em a hand, Steve,” Sharp ordered.

“Jeff, I thought you were offering.”

“Me? Hell, it was you he wanted to kill. ’Sides, I’ll get our bags and have them sent over to the hotel. Meet ya at the marshal’s office.” He threw this last over his shoulder as he sauntered down the platform toward the baggage car.

I laughed and grabbed my assailant’s legs while the marshal lifted from the armpits.

“What’s your name?” the marshal asked as we stutter-stepped down the platform steps.

“Steve Dancy.”

“Staying?”

“The General Palmer … unless you can suggest better accommodations.”

“None better except Mrs. Prescott’s, but she full up. You say you never saw this man before?”

“Never. He claims I killed his father in a street fight in Nevada, but I live in California.”

“You the writer?”

“I am,” I was suddenly wary. My novels didn’t sell that well. “How did you know?”

“Not that common of a name. Read all your books. Good yarns. Unrealistic, but that’s to be expected.” He walked a couple more steps before adding, “Several of your stories take place in Nevada.”

This man was smarter than he appeared. “Yes, I lived in Nevada one summer. Many, many years ago.”

“Happen to kill anyone?”

I smiled. “Marshal, my books are all in fun.”

The marshal nodded toward the man we were carrying. “This man looked serious.” The marshal remained quiet for a few steps. “Many, many years ago there was a gunman named Dancy. Like I said, uncommon name hereabouts. That be you?”

 There was no question that this marshal was savvy enough to get the complete story out of the Cutler offspring. I decided to quit concealing my past.

“I am that Dancy … and twenty years ago I did kill the man he claims to be his father. Cutler had raped a woman and was trying to kill my friend. I approached him with my gun holstered. Things got out of hand and we both pulled. I was not charged … nor have I ever been charged for any crime. I didn’t deserve my reputation as a gunfighter, but stories grew. Get exaggerated. I do it myself in my books.” When the marshal didn’t say anything, I added, “Brian Cutler was a bad man. Worse, he did his criminal deeds for hire.”

“I see,” he finally said. “Nothing I can do about it anyway.” He smiled at me. “However, some of your exploits were in Colorado.”

An uncomfortable observation. “Passed through Denver many times and lived in Durango for a while. Used to own a house here. I gave it to Maggie McAllen as a wedding present.”

“That’s quite a wedding present. You must be nicely fixed.”

“I am,” I answered without elaboration.

“Hmmm,” was all he said.

We arrived at the marshal’s office and plopped our burden onto a narrow cot in a big empty cell. There was a cot against each wall, so this must have been a communal holding pen.

After locking the cell, the marshal asked, “Know Maggie’s pa?”

“Joseph?” He nodded. “On our way to visit him and Maggie’s family. We ride out tomorrow.” I paused. “I assume you know him?”

“You might say. He’s the one who got me started on your books. Also told me some yarns not in your books.”

“Joseph’s not talkative.”

“You sure got that right, but he can get downright chatty in the right circumstances.”

“What might those be? I’ve never seen that man chatty.”

“Late at night around a campfire with family and good sipping whiskey.”

That stopped me. “Are you related to Joseph McAllen?”

He hung the cell key on a peg behind his desk. “My uncle.”

Now Available: Old Haunts, A Steve Dancy Tale

Honest westerns. Full of dishonest characters.

 Old haunts is now available in hardcover, trade paperback, and Kindle. Get a copy while they're still hot off the press.

Bridge Across the Ocean, A Novel by Jack B. Rochester

I like fish out of water stories. The Steve Dancy Tales is about a New Yorker trying to survive the Wild West and Bridge Across the Ocean tells the story of New Hampshire bicycle entrepreneurs doing the deal of a lifetime in Taiwan. 

Intellectual property thieves try to ruin the dream, but the real challenge is bringing the deal and a love relationship to fruition in a culture completely foreign to Yankees from New England. Bridge Across the Ocean delves deeply into the cycling sub-culture and presents a distinct perception of life and countryside when experienced from the saddle of a bicycle .

Will a love of cycling be enough to bridge the gap between American custom bike craftsmen and Taiwanese mass producers? Read the book to find out.

Selfish San Francisco

Water Source for San Francisco

San Francisco supports denying water to the Central Valley so a tiny fish called the Delta Smelt has a pristine habitat. Except San Francisco gets its drinking water from the other side of the Central Valley. If the O'Shaughnessy Dam below Yosemite was demolished, the Sierra runoff would flow naturally into the Central Valley.

To further explain the source of San Francisco water, here is an excerpt from Deluge.

“The TV.” She pointed to a television mounted high on the wall. The sound had been muted, but the agitation of the newscasters was obvious. The chyron read, “O’Shaughnessy Dam collapse harms San Francisco.”  In smaller letters below, it read “Water and power at risk.

Smith grabbed the bottles and said “Come on. Let’s get back.”

When they entered the flat downstairs, Wilson and Ashley were chuckling like a couple of teenagers. Baldwin had the impression that if they hadn’t returned when they did, they might have found the flat locked, with a man’s tie hanging from the door handle.

Smith immediately went to the remote and turned on the television.

The newscaster was saying, “San Francisco receives eighty-five percent of its water from the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, which sits behind the O’Shaughnessy Dam. A dam that no longer exists. This dam also produced over seven hundred million kilowatt-hours of electricity per year for the city. The mayor has declared an emergency, and water as of this moment is severely rationed. It appears that for the first time in a century, San Francisco will be forced to pump and filter its water. The question on the minds of nearly three million people in the Bay Area is, how long it will take to replace the water supply for the city? Our sources said months. The irony, of course, is that after over a week of nonstop rain, how can the city be out of fresh water … and potentially short of electricity?”

“Oh, crap,” Smith said. “The Restore Hetch Hetchy activists got their wish. They’ve hated that dam since John Muir fought its construction early in the last century. Now we’ll see how Sierra Club members with a 94123 zip code like rustic living.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Wilson said. “The rich always live comfortably. It’s the peons who’ll suffer. If need be, the rich will have Perrier home-delivered in quantities large enough to shower whenever they want.”

Ashley pointed at the faucet. “This water comes from the Sierras? That’s hard to believe. Why? The Delta always has water.”

“It’s pure mountain water,” Wilson said. “We’re one of the few major cities in the world that doesn’t filter its tap water. It’s uncontaminated … and delivery is gravity fed. The city moves it from the mountains to that tap without fossil fuels.” She stroked the faucet spout. “Our pristine mountain water is a matter of civic pride.”

“As well as the pee on the sidewalks,” Smith said. “Gravity fed, pure, and one hundred percent organic.”

“Guys, quit squabbling,” Baldwin said, pointing at the television. “The Don Pedro Dam just below Hetch Hetchy also failed. Modesto and outlying areas are in the flood path. People are dying, and you’re worried about showering.”

Storms, politics, and gangs pummel California but that isn't the scary part.

New James D. Best Novel on June 4th!

In 1862, a sixty-five day downpour pummeled the western United States. California suffered the brunt of the storm. Almost a third of the state was under water, roads were impassible, telegraph lines down, rivers overflowed, hundreds of people died, and hundreds of thousands of animals drowned. Sacramento remained under water for six months, forcing the state government to move to San Francisco.

Geological evidence shows that a flood of this magnitude hits California every one to two hundred years.

What if it happens again?

I took a break from Steve and his friends to write a disaster story. This one's a corker. I didn't know I could imagine such mayhem.

For Steve Dancy fans, I have started Coronado, A Steve Dancy Tale and it should be available before the end of the year.

Back to Deluge. Greg Evarts and Patricia Baldwin are back from The Shut Mouth Society. The stories are unrelated, so Deluge is not a sequel. The novels just shares the same cast and locale. The characters have changed, of course. Greg is now chief of police in Santa Barbara. Patricia is still a history professor, but has transferred from UCLA to UCSB. When the sky falls on California, our two heroes must once again save the day. There's rain, inept and ept politicians, murading street gangs, cage fighters, spies, and collapsed dams that send mountains of rolling water toward everything we hold dear.

Deluge will be available in print and Kindle formats on June 4th. Happy reading.

Can a 150-year-old conspiracy be unraveled before it’s too late?