Dragon & Hawk excerpt (PG) and a Contest!

Once more into the excerpt bin... This time from Book One, which started it all: Dragon & Hawk, published by Champagne Books in both ebook and print.
Contest after the excerpt...

Evan Jones and his brothers came to the hostile Arizona Territory to start new lives--and found three very different, strong women who taught them the meaning of courage and love...
 

     Slowly, as days passed, Evan recovered. "Come walk," she said, and dragged him down the stairs. He looked at steep streets snaking around the hills and paused, intimidated. Unsure.

     "Día por día," she encouraged him with a smile. "Each day, and so each step, as it comes." She walked with him, patient, turning to go back when his eyes showed too much pain.

     Reyna admired his determination. Little was said on those first excursions, all his effort concentrated on getting from here to there and back. But one morning, he looked up from watching one foot go in front of the other, surprised at the variety of familiar surroundings, and started to talk during their strolls...

     They walked a little farther through Bisbee each day, exchanging stories of their cultures. One muggy August morning, she told him of Cochise, Great Chief of the Nide. The county had been restructured and named to honor him only a few years before. "Nide, The People is what they

call themselves," she said. "'Apachu' is a Zuni word for 'enemy.' You could have no fiercer foe than to betray the Nide."

     "Ah," he said, "The same could be said of Dreigiau—Dragons of Cymru."

     "Dragons?" She turned quickly to him, concerned.

     "Heard then of dragons, have you?"

     Reyna slowly nodded. "Nide Creation legend tells of Dragón Viejo—Old Dragon. A vile, baby-eating monster. Wise—and extremely evil."

     "Welsh dragons aren't evil—well then, some were, mind. All were fierce, though—breathed fire, ate huge herds of sheep—oh, and the occasional maiden or baby now and then." Evan laughed at her astonished, worried look. "'Tis myth, Señora, just stories. But the symbol of Cymru is the Red Dragon. That actually came from the Romans, mind you now, but another tale says two dragons—one red, one white—fought a duel to determine who would rule the land. The Red Dragon won, for it was born of the valleys of Cymru—that's Wales—and loved the land so deeply it would

rather die than live under the rule of the White."

     Evan lifted his chin, proud. "So the people of Wales are known by the Red Dragon, for we too are fierce and love our land deeply. Not evil, is it then? Wherever there are Cymry—that's Welshmen—well, there Dragons be."

     She recalled Nide legend, and inwardly trembled. "Eres tú dragón. You are Dragon."

     He smiled. "Certain sure. Dw i'n waed coch cyfan Cymro—I'm pureblood Welsh."

     Her heart stopped, flipped, beat again. She was unsure if it was because his totem was terrifying, or because his eyes were bright, his smile mesmerizing. He spoke, but she didn't hear his words for the pounding in her ears. She couldn't catch her breath.

     His bemused smile gleamed. "Señora, the story. What happened? The dragon?"

     "Old Dragon ate every baby Woman had," Reyna said, distracted. "She found a way at last to hide her last son, teach him magic until he grew big enough to hunt. The Boy tricked Old Dragon, killed him with four arrows. Old Dragon fell down a huge cañon, his bones now the boulders at the feet of the mountains." She blinked, shook her head, trying to dispel her uneasiness.

     He watched her closely, and it unnerved her. "Señora? I upset you with talk of dragons?"

     She forced a smile. "No, of course not." She didn't want to tell him Dragón Viejo had been the fiercest enemy of her totem, Halcón. Hawk. No. His spirit guide couldn't be malicious Old Dragon, not Evan. No, I refuse to believe it. Dragons of his land must be different creatures than the Ancient

Ones...

CONTEST: What do you think your animal spirit guide would be? Some people are Rabbits, quick and careful to watch from the shadows. Some are Bear, calm but fierce when protecting their own. Leave your comment about your animal totem here with your email address [email(AT)whatever(DOT)com] and I will draw a name at random at 9:00PM Pacific time-- the lucky winner will receive a free PDF of Out of Forgotten Ashes tomorrow morning! I'll announce the winner as my final post. Good Luck!

~Jude 

 http://jude-johnson.com

Excerpt: Out of Forgotten Ashes (PG13)

How but a little chuckle on a Sunday afternoon? Here's an excerpt from Out of Forgotten Ashes, coming out tomorrow morning from Champagne Books.

Set-up: Evan Jones is recovering from a serious injury. His brother, Dylan, is pleasantly surprised when Evan comes by his office in the Wells Fargo Station in Tombstone, and invites him to come along on an errand...

     They headed down the wooden sidewalk and soon arrived at the gun shop. Evan turned the doorknob and pushed in. “Hey, Clanc—”

     An explosion shook the knob from his hand and threw him backward.

     Dylan caught him, staggering. Glass rattled in window frames and boxes of ammo jumped from shelves to burst open, scattering bullets and shells across the floor. Rifles and shotguns teetered, rattled, and fell.

     “What the hell was that?” He helped his brother regain his balance, then darted around him into the shop. “Clancy! Clancy, where are ya?” He slipped on some buckshot, danced to regain his footing, and then stood in the center of the ruined room, looking about in confusion. “Clancy?”

     Men ran in from all directions toward the blast and crowded near the door. “Stay back,” Evan cautioned. “Let us see what’s going on. If you hear shots, get the Sheriff.” He entered the storefront, cautiously, shuffling his feet and cane to avoid sliding on loose bullets.

     Dylan gestured for his brother to toss him a gun. He pointed to a closed door at the back of the shop.

     Nodding, Evan complied, drew his other pistol and cocked the hammer, ready.

     Dylan did the same. They stepped forward—

     A hot blast of foul air nearly knocked them to their knees as the door wrenched open. A muddy shape of a man emerged from a fog of overwhelming stench. Two white orbs stared in shock from brownish-black muck that plastered him head to foot. He oozed into the shop, a melting mudslide.

     Dylan gagged, reached for his handkerchief and held it over his nose. “Clancy?”

     The gooey mass nodded.

     “Good God, man!” Evan choked. “What the hell?”

     “It blew up.” Clancy spat and wiped his face with a filthy hand. 

     “Damn thang blew up.”

     “What blew up?” The Jones brothers spoke together.

     “My turlet. My new inside turlet, that one what I got from the Sears and Roebuck.”

     Dylan gaped, coughing, trying not to breathe. Clancy stood forlorn, gobs of slime plopping and pooling around him on the floor.

     Evan recovered first and holstered his weapon. He burst out laughing, clapped his hand over his mouth and almost lost his balance, sliding with his cane.

     “Tain’t funny!” Clancy crossed his arms over his chest. “Jus’ finished my business on the crapper, pulled the chain—kaboom! Blew me clear into the wall.”

     “No shit?” Evan deadpanned and covered his mouth again.

     “Yeah. Shit everywhere.” Clancy glared at him. “You should see that room.”

    “I think not,” Evan replied, “the smell’s enough.”

     Dylan nodded. He tried to control himself but his shoulders shook with repressed laughter. “Eat a few too many beans for lunch, did ya?”

      “Get outta my shop,” Clancy snarled.

     “Aw c’mon, Clancy.” Dylan chuckled, carefully breathing through his mouth beneath the handkerchief. “Are you all right? I mean, are you hurt anywhere under all that?”

     Slop dribbled to the floor as Clancy shook his head slowly back and forth, trying not to splatter any more than he had to. “Naw, guess not.” He sighed. “Damn thang shot pieces all over, but none hit me that I kin tell. Here I think I’m real civilized, gettin’ this newfangled contraption before you two. Everybody knows you Joneses get new gadgets fast. Anyway, I hooked it into that big ol’ metal water tank Frank Stolski sold me. He even helped me bury it out back there. Real work, getting that in, packed it good and tight. Welded the lid solid, too.”

     “You welded—?” Evan asked. “Didn’t leave a vent?”

     “A what? Hell no, din’t want no leaks.”

     “Needs ventilation,” Dylan said, then covered his nose and mouth again.

     “Like the mines, Clancy,” his brother said.

     Clancy’s eyes grew wide, larger expanses of white in streaks of brown. “I ain’t never worked no mine, but I heard about them gases down there. Mine gases blew my turlet?”

     “No, gases built up in that metal tank,” Evan replied. “All that, uh, waste decomposes and makes gases. Been going on in this heat and you didn’t allow for a vent. You welded the tank and then buried it, so when the vapors built up—”

     “Pressure built inside.” Dylan nodded. “The metal couldn’t rupture underground, packed in tight. When you pulled the chain, the pipe to the tank opened—

     “—and shot everything out like a cannon,” the brothers finished in unison.

     “Aw, hell,” Clancy said. “Ain’t that my luck?” He looked at the Joneses, head tilted. “You go ahead and take what you came in fer, boys. Pay me later. I’m going out back to lay under the pump for an hour.”

     Dylan helped Evan and they backed out of the shop...They gulped lungfuls of gritty late afternoon air for long minutes before heading to the Crystal Palace Saloon...
     “So how’s Owen doing?” Dylan asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
     Evan savored his beer before replying. “He’s a hard worker. He’s finishing the fence repairs this afternoon, glad of the pay.”
     “There alone with your wife.”
     “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
     Dylan turned to face his younger brother. “How much do you really know of him? He shows up out of nowhere. No letter asking afore, nothing with him but a change of clothes.”
     Evan blinked with surprise. “Don’t you remember how he pulled me out of that fire? He saved my life. I can trust him.”
     “That was fifteen years ago, and a tragedy all around. Times, people change. You said Reyna’s been skittish this week. Look you, she’s good reason to be jumpy after what happened to her in Sabino Canyon.” Dylan raised his brows and held his brother’s gaze for some time, remembering his sister-in-law’s ordeal at the hands of the vicious outlaw Frank Howe. It had been three years, but the nightmare still occasionally beset his sleep. He could only imagine what bad dreams plagued Reyna—and Evan.

Note: This scene is based on true newspaper accounts.  "Turlets" exploded far more often that you'd think! Especially when there was no public sewage system and information about septic tanks wasn't widely available.  Certainly makes you appreciate modern plumbing, doesn't it? 

~Jude

  

Hey, Jude's First Contest

[When I was little, I was absolutely convinced Paul McCartney wrote "Hey Jude" for me. Except I didn't really get the Na-Na-Na screamy part...]

Who doesn't like a little something sweet? One of my favorite treats here in Southern Arizona is the soft cookie called a cochito , or little pig. Shaped like --you guessed it-- little pigs, these molasses-chewy delights are not overly sugared and are nearly guilt-free. Cochitos (also called puerquitos or marranitos, depending on which region of Mexico you’re in) are featured as something of a peace offering in Out of Forgotten Ashes.


The Contest: Since today is April Fools' Day, let's hear about your best successful April Fool's Prank --  or the best one someone pulled on you! Comment to this post with your prank, name, and an email address (write it like this: email AT whatever DOT com so the spammers can't pick it up).  I'll randomly draw one name at at 2:30 PM Eastern. Winner will receive a package of cochitos from Tucson's favorite Mexican panaderia (bakery).  I'll announce the winner in a new post later today.

[Because of the nature of the prize, this contest must be limited to residents of the U.S. only. But don't worry; I"ll run another contest later for anyone anywhere to win.] 

Good Luck and let's hear about those practical jokes!

~Jude

Author  

Dragon & Hawk; Out of Forgotten Ashes; Within The Mists (fiction) Champagne Books

Website: Jude-johnson.com