The Queen of Paradise Valley

 

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Buy now for only 99cents! Uneasy partners of a legendary ranch, rarely in agreement, they are fire and ice – Del being a blazing fire, Diana being an untouchable ice maiden. But then – [and there is always a “but then”…   

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Queen of Paradise Valley – now $0.99!

 

#99cents! Uneasy partners of a legendary ranch, rarely in agreement, they are fire and ice – Del being a blazing fire, Diana being an untouchable ice maiden. Except when her suppressed passions rise to match his… https://www.amzn.com/B075X58S8R  

Excerpt — The Queen of Paradise Valley

She expected to be surprised. But she was astonished. No longer the dun colored settlement she remembered, Rennieville had tripled in size, was now a sprawling town teeming with noisy transport rigs of all sizes and types. People, young and old, rough and refined, bustled from one place of enterprise to another. As she maneuvered the buggy along South Street she passed many saloons and bordellos, their business already brisk in early afternoon.

Main Street used to be a pathway that began on an empty prairie, passed nine or ten buildings and thirty or less homes, and ended between wooded hills rising to the Sangre de Cristo range. Now it boasted plank walkways on both sides that served a multitude of storefronts, their colorful business signs protruding above their doors.

For her venture into town Diana wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black serge gown, and despite the heat maintained a glacial facade. She was glad her simple hat sported a net veil, for she sensed curious stares from everyone she passed. No doubt they knew who she was with the silver Double R, the ranch brand, emblazoned on the sides of the buggy.

The hotel was more than twice its former size and displayed a decorative frieze below the roof line. The word pompous lodged in her mind as she stepped onto the boardwalk, her eyes drawn to a sign that proclaimed in flourishing letters, Rennieville Grand Hotel. Pompous and arrogant. She turned, collided with a solid body. She tottered and dropped her reticule.

"Sorry, ma'am." The man reached for her arms to steady her.

She pulled away, stepped back. Like a ranch hand after a sweltering day of work, he stank of sweat and horse; prairie dirt layered his clothes and the saddlebags slung over his shoulder. He stooped to retrieve her reticule and she lifted her veil.

He tipped his hat. “Here ma'am--"

Their eyes met and his polite half smile vanished. Her heart plummeted with dizzying speed, her feet lost contact with an earth no longer there. Breath hissing through her teeth, she snatched her reticule, turned and fled into the hotel.

She leaned on the door and fought to compose herself, to cast off fear that descended like a suffocating blanket. It could not be him.  He had died two years ago. She remembered the day Clem told her. A prison break. He'd been hunted down and killed. And she had wrestled with alternating waves of shock, dismay, guilt, and relief.

Relief had won.

With slow, deliberate steps she crossed the lobby to the desk. Her voice taut, she requested a room and asked if her brother was in his suite.

"He's out.” The clerk peered at her through round spectacles. “Did you say Randolph Rennie is your brother? Then you are--"

“Yes, I am." She managed to sign the register with a steady hand.

"Miss Rennie, for you our best room." He snapped his fingers and a boy arrived to show her the way. She barely noticed climbing two flights of stairs and walking along a dim hallway. Inside the room her control began to crumble and her hand shook as she thrust a coin at the boy. The door closed behind him and she shot to the window.

The man was gone; a sturdy couple with a cavorting boy now stood on the spot. It must have been someone with a slight resemblance. Those eyes though, variegated slate and silver irises, inky pupils widening with--what? Suspicion? Curiosity? Not recognition. Not that!

But she remembered his eyes most of all, how he had looked at her with the smoky passion of a lover, then the crushing contempt of a criminal on his way to prison.
Deep breaths. Deep and steady. Panic ebbed; heartbeat steadied. She had important things to do today and couldn't afford to sit here revisiting her biggest mistake.



— Cat

New excerpt--The Queen of Paradise Valley

From The Queen of Paradise Valley, chapter 42

They made a wild escape: dashed into the corridor past the watchman, down the stairs, and through the lobby. A mad escape: they ran into the street, leapt into Barbara's buggy, wheeled a tight circle in the middle of the road, and raced to the edge of town. Diana almost laughed out loud, but afraid she would sound hysterical, kept her mouth closed.

Several miles from town Barbara slowed the pace. She glanced over her shoulder and released a sigh. "No one followed. I was afraid he'd stop us."

“Mr. Lord? No. He wouldn't."

Barbara gripped the reins. "You've been ill, so you don't know what's happened. Mr. Lord has been using the drought to further his ends. His men have been poisoning water holes. Some children got sick last month but no one could prove who was behind it. Even on your ranch forty cows were lost. The men moved the herd high into the mountains. They guard them night and day. And they patrol the pastures because they fear another fire."

Diana’s head swam. A tiny regret that she had left the sanctuary of the hotel began to swell. She couldn't cope with any more disasters. Drought, poisoned water, fire--wouldn't it be easier to give Mr. Lord what he wanted? There would be no more troubles. And the pain would stop, wouldn't it? She'd be able to sleep, wouldn't she?

She shifted her gaze. The Sangres rose from a silken haze, towering kings with granite faces beneath glittering crowns of snow. Their shoulders were sheathed in pine mantles, their grass robes flowed like golden rivers.

Tears rose in her throat. Her mountains, her valley. There could be no truer sanctuary. The land was hers. And Del's. She couldn't let him fight for it alone.

“And mother has the payment for you."

"I don't know what you--"

"You mean he still hasn't told you?" More tsking. "Del bought mother's and six others' business loans, right out from under Mr. Lord's nose. That was back in February, and he gave them all six months before any payments were due."

Diana wiped her perspiring brow. "Any payment would go to Del."

"Diana, he put the mortgages in your name."

"My name--"

Barbara was driving past the ranch. Diana said, "Turn in. I must see what's left."

Though she frowned and shook her head, Barbara made the turn. Diana sat forward, her hands, her breath clenched. The parched earth, littered with shriveled grasses and stunted shrubs, their leaves black as if from frost, seemed to be slowly expiring. Stooped and withered cottonwoods dropped dry furled leaves like they did in late autumn.

As the buggy approached the crest of the long rise, Diana cried out in surprise. Where the house had stood, where she expected charred ruins, there was--nothing. It was gone, as if blown away by a powerful wind, gone without a trace, the hillside plowed and turned, a new field ready to be seeded.

She whispered, "Keep going." She felt disoriented. Her landmark was gone and she had no bearings, no way it seemed to tell north from south, up from down. She needed a new focus, a new starting point. She needed to find herself. She needed Del.

Ebony bounded toward them. Clem came running from the bunkhouse, as did Bullfrog, Windy, and Tag, who seemed a foot taller than when she’d last seen him. Diana stepped down and faced them, her heart tripping.

"Sure is good to see you, Miss Diana." Clem grinned, lifting his hat in salute.

Hands on hips, Windy turned to Bullfrog. "Didn' I say she'd be back?"

--Cat

New excerpt

From chapter 23

She ran to the barn door. "I must go home."

Clem moved after her. "Stay here. The storm--"

"I'll be home before it's really bad. I have to go." She mounted Paladin and turned back to him, her voice ragged. "Don't you see? I told them I'd help and look what happened."

Paladin did an uneasy dance. Clem grabbed for the reins but she veered to the side and spurred the horse into a quick lope. Clem’s hoarse voice called her to stop, to wait, but she paid no heed. Then she heard nothing but the keening of the wind.

At first it came in uncertain gusts, and the large white flakes eddied and coiled, building low mounds on the road. Then it blew steadily, drawing the flakes into threadlike tassels, streaking the mounds into drifts. Finally the wind assumed full force and drove the snow hard in a slanting southeasterly direction.

Moving nearly broadside against it, Diana made slow progress. Icy pellets stung her cheeks. Billowing veils became thick sheets, concealing all landmarks, even the road. Paladin tried to turn his back to the wind whenever she relaxed her grip on the reins. She leaned over his neck and urged him through deepening drifts. A half buried fence line on the left vanished. Whenever she turned her head to search for the gates to Paradise Valley, her eyes and nostrils filled with snow.

"I must get home," she said aloud. But the screaming wind drowned out the sound of her voice.

Paladin, his coat crystallized with ice, whinnied and wheezed, gasped and shuddered. Despite the horse’s increasing unsteadiness, she didn't dare stop, even when she lost all sensation in her face and hands.

They plodded on, for miles it seemed, for hours that may have only been minutes. How long had she been out in the storm? Where was she? Nothing made sense any longer.

Paladin stumbled and fell onto his forelegs. She rolled off and struggled for footing. With a jerk on the reins, she pulled him up, then plowed on through knee-deep drifts. She couldn't see the horse an arm's length behind her. He careened and dropped onto his side.

She yanked on the bridle, shrieked, "Get up. Get up, damn beast. Oh, God. What have I done?" She fell on his neck, heard his exhausted gasps, a shuddering sigh, then--nothing. Horrendous pain seized her throat. "My beautiful Paladin." The wind snatched the words from her frozen lips. "I could have saved you. I could have saved James. It's my fault he's dead. My fault you're dead."

          She hauled herself up and staggered forth, whipped by the wind and haunting images: James 

staring vacantly at the sky; Stevy, his scarred face contorted. "The bullet I got for you," he taunted 

her. "The bullet for you--"


The Queen of Paradise Valley    available at Amazon