New Release--Love's Target by Linda Carroll-Bradd

The next story in my Entertainers of the West series, Love’s Target, has released. This novella is part of Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World.

BLURB:

Vanora Deverell is tired of accompanying her father in his vagabond life as a farrier and wants a house to call her own. Even more, she’s tired of keeping him away from the Faro tables. When a casino owner demands her hand in marriage to cancel her father’s outstanding debt, Vanora and her father go on the run. No matter what Vanora does, she’ll never do it as well as her late brother, even though she’s stepped in as her father’s apprentice. But she yearns to be recognized for the young woman she has become. Having to dress as a boy to enter shooting contests grates on her nerves, but her shooting skill is their best chance to get out of debt.

Rancher Trent Melbyrne wants to step out from his father’s shadow and be recognized as a horse breeder in his own right. He’s in Bozeman buying a stud stallion when he enters a shooting contest and is chagrined when his accomplishments are bested by a boy…until he learns a secret about his opponent. At a second contest a few days later, he can’t believe the unfairness of the acclaim being heaped on the boy’s head. When he reveals the shooter’s secret, he sets off a string of events that lead to a showdown on his ranch in Morgan’s Crossing, Montana Territory. Can he atone for the danger he’s caused?

Available only on Amazon for $1.99 and free in Kindle Unlimited

EXCERPT:

The call came to set up for the rifle contest. The targets had been moved to the far end of the field. This time, the contestants stood about three hundred feet distant.

He hesitated over adding himself to a line, hoping to be positioned opposite the boy if he entered this contest. Finally, he stepped up to the mark for the farthermost target, settled his Winchester 1873’s stock against the cup of his shoulder, pulled up the graduated rear sight, and lined up the fixed sight. Trees at the edge of the forested area showed only slight movement. Good. Not much compensation needed for wind drift. He lowered the rifle barrel until it pointed at the ground and waited for the signal to shoot.

At the last moment, the boy shuffled to the mark to Trent’s left, cradling a Spencer carbine rifle, head cast downward.

Under the ruse of looking down the line toward Stanley, he gave sideways glances at the figure to his left. The repeating rifle was at least twenty years old but looked well cared for. Possibly, the father’s weapon from his military service. The boy’s clothes were baggy enough to almost look like a disguise. But why would that be? Dirt marked the side of the boy’s face, swiped along a cheek that appeared rounded and soft. How old was this boy? The streaks weren’t unusual for a hot summer’s day when kids were playing. But Trent hadn’t seen him anywhere on the ranch except in the area of the contest.

“All right, commence firing.”

The boy glanced just once at Trent and frowned. Then he angled his body and raised the rifle to shooting position.

The crack of the first shot snapped Trent alert, and he shook his head to clear the unusual thoughts. He set himself up with his left shoulder aimed toward the target, raised his weapon, and put the boy out of his mind. Instead, he focused on his aim, inhaled a deep breath, and held it. With precision, he did his best to group his six shots into the red circle.

When the firing stopped and the breeze wafted the smoke from the line of guns, he heard a soft-spoken exclamation, “Yes” that tightened his gut. Struck speechless, Trent could only gape at the vacant space to his left. Not only had his opponent disappeared from sight, but his opponent was not a boy.

Linda blogs here on the fourth Friday of the month and her other social media contacts are:

website  www.lindacarroll-bradd.com

blog   http://blog.lindacarroll-bradd.com

Facebook  http://facebook.com/linda.carrollbradd

Twitter https://twitter.com/lcarrollbradd

Amazon author page  

https://www.amazon.com/author/lindacarroll-bradd

To subscribe to her occasional newsletter, click here

Blog Tour Tuesday--Baling Wire Promises by Linda Carroll-Bradd

Healer Fantine Pomeroy and five children, aged five to eleven years, are the only survivors of an orphanage fire. She vows to transport them safely to another orphanage, and then she can return to her music studies. But she soon discovers the task may be more than she can handle.

Bounty hunter Pete Andrews is beaten after delivering his last bounty. Unsure if robbery or retaliation is the motive, he sets out to lay low and make a visit to his brother in Morgan’s Crossing. Unable to leave them on their own, he promises to get the woman and children safely to the next town. When he suspects his old life has followed him and threatens the group who has become dear, he vows to protect them. But will that be enough?

Amazon link
Excerpt:

As she got closer to the orphanage, she heard panicked screams from the second floor. The awful cries stayed her feet but only for a moment. Spitting sounds came from the roof as the roaring flames consumed the dry cedar shingles. Fantine ran around the side of the building, looking to see if the sisters had gathered near one of the windows and lowered an escape rope made from tied bedsheets. Nothing. No one.

Biting back a cry, she charged up the front steps and reached for the doorknob but the radiant heat kept her from grabbing it. “Sisters, where are you?” She turned toward the town that lay at least a furlong away. No time remained for her to run in that direction. “Help! Fire! The orphanage is on fire!” Through the front window, she saw the staircase was fully engulfed and sobbed at the devastation she witnessed. The fire must have started on the first floor and climbed.

A form sprawled at the edge of the classroom, a book and candlestick lying nearby. Flames ate at the blonde woman’s clothing.

Oh, Sister Philippa. Fantine pressed a hand over her mouth at the horrifying sight.

On the kitchen side of the house, an upstairs window slammed upward. “Fantine! We’re trapped.”

Trapped? What was the sister saying? Fantine scrambled over the porch railing and jumped into the flower beds before running along the wall. “I’m here.”

Coughing, Sister Catherine leaned over the ledge and tossed down a metal box. “Take the records.” With jerky moves, she wrestled a ribbon from around her neck. “And the key.”

Fantine caught the scratched box and set it on the ground, then reached up and snagged the loop of ribbon. Remembering the flaming staircase, she searched her mind for another escape. No outside stairs had ever been built. A big mistake. Her heart lodged in her throat. “No, you must find a way.”

“We’ve tried. Staircase is gone.” Sister Catherine pressed the crook of her arm to her face.

“I saw, but you could tie the sheets together.” Tears burned her eyes. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn’t think straight. She paced, craning her neck to keep Sister Catherine in sight. Smoke surrounded the sister’s head and crept along the wall toward the roof. “Or dangle the children from the window, so I can catch them.” Fantine stopped and held out her arms like a cradle.

“Smoke is too thick. Many already dead.” She glanced toward the room and pulled the neckline of her nightgown over her mouth. “Go to Virginia City…to Sister Lourdes.”

“No, Sister.” Fantine stood, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Hang from the window ledge and drop. Please, save yourself.”

“Promise…take children…to other orphanage.” She bent over in a fit of coughing.

Don’t give up. “All right, I promise to deliver them to safety.” She stretched her arms high, waiting for the sister to reappear, but her vigil was in vain. Long minutes passed.

Finally, the horrible truth sank in. Fantine dropped to the ground, arms wrapped around her middle, and rocked back and forth. Stunned, she could only whisper, “Can’t be happening, can’t be.” They were all gone. The four caring and devoted sisters who’d run the orphanage, and thirteen sweet, lovable children who would never grow to adulthood. “No, no, no.” Tightness gripped her chest and she could barely breathe. Fantine leaned forward and pounded her fists on the ground. Sorrow threatened to flatten her, and she keened, loud and long. When her throat was raw, she staggered to her feet and grabbed the box. The other children, I must see to them. I promised.

Blog Tour Tuesday--An Unlikely Marriage by Linda Carroll-Bradd

This week’s Blog Tour Tuesday features

An Unlikely Marriage by Linda Carroll-Bradd

Last week marked the release of An Unlikely Marriage, my second story in Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World. Secondary characters Torin and Nola from the first release, Laced By Love, are the protagonists in this novella. Not only did I get to view the wedding ceremony from a different viewpoint but I enjoyed delving into the relationship between the sisters. Instead of taking place in tiny Morgan’s Crossing, this story starts out with some familiar characters in Sweetwater Springs.

Blurb:

Helping injured cowboy Torin Quaid drive mustangs north provides a way for vaudevillian Nola York to earn a train ticket east—and get one step closer to her goal of auditioning for Buffalo Bill’s Wild West stage production. The temporary marriage is solely for propriety’s sake. Until disaster strikes, and the two must rely on each other—emotionally and physically—to safely reach Torin’s ranch. Will a marriage of convenience turn into more on a trail drive through Montana Territory?

Purchase Link:

Amazon:  https://amzn.com/B01J4R636Y

Excerpt:

Ten minutes later, all four adults stood in the show wagon’s middle aisle, and no one could move more than a few inches. Thankfully, the dogs were bedded down in their crates built under the cushioned settee that Cinnia claimed as her bed for the night.

Nola and Cinnia requested two minutes behind the sleeping area curtain to put on nightgowns. They wiggled and flopped like fish on a riverbank to slide off their petticoats, drawers, corsets, and chemises before slipping warm flannel gowns over their heads. Taking turns, they removed the pins from each other’s hair then plaited the lengths into single thick braids.

When she climbed down to put away her dress, Nola was careful to clutch the sides of her red gown close to her thighs. Wearing night clothes around males—no matter how sensible and opaque—sent an uncustomary flush to her cheeks. After opening the door, she glanced inside the tallest cupboard, normally filled to the brim with the special dresses of three performing women. The sight of the empty space was another reminder of tomorrow’s farewell. Her throat tightened. She draped the neckline of her rust-colored gown over the farthest wooden peg. Now all the dresses she owned could be unfolded from the storage drawers and hung in this cupboard.

From behind, a firm body bumped then steadied her. “Excuse me.”

The heat from Torin’s hand on her hip seeped through the single layer of flannel and branded her skin. Shaking her head at the nonsense of thinking he’d staked his claim, Nola held up her hands. “We’ve managed this before. What is the problem?” Her personal crisis was the thought of what would come in the next few minutes when she shared a mattress with her…uh, Torin. She couldn’t risk thinking of him as her husband—that would suggest a level of marriage they hadn’t agreed to.

Cinnia pointed between the two men. “They take up more space than you, me, and Dorrie did.” Moving behind Nic, she eased along the aisle to pull open a cupboard door and store her dress and underclothes. “Whatever clothes you men remove need to go into a cupboard. One of the secrets of living in harmony inside a wagon is tidiness.”

A deep groan sounded. Torin clapped his good hand over his heart and turned to look at her, brow wrinkled. “We’re doomed, my dear Nola, because I am a slob.”

“I’m not worried.” Nola scooted the dowels for the hammock to the edge. Then she flashed a smile over her shoulder as she climbed into the sleeping alcove. “I’m a great organizer.” Once on the mattress, she dove under the quilt and scooted to the far edge, near the hatch that led to the driver’s bench.

“Nic, grab the ends here. Nola says the dowels fit in grooves along the cupboard bottoms. This is your sleeping hammock.” With a grunt, Torin climbed up onto the bed and pulled the curtains closed. Silhouetted by lantern light, he curled his large body nearly in half to unfasten his outerwear. Mutterings accented each move, as using only one hand, he scooted his pants down his legs. A minute later, his jeans and shirt dropped to the floor with a thump.

At least, he’s wearing drawers and an undershirt. The pinch of unease loosened from her chest. She’d wondered if he was the type to wear a nightshirt. Since his mustang round-up involved sleeping along the trail, he probably had to be ready for anything as he bedded down each night. Nola breathed in the scent of the campfire clinging to their skin and hair. A scent she’d be experiencing over the next two weeks. Good thing, she liked outdoor smells.

Rustling and jostling noises came from the front of the wagon as the other two got settled in.

“Good night, Nic,” Cinnia whispered.

A whoosh sounded right before the lantern light disappeared. The moonlight filtering through the curtained window fell across their bed, making Nola aware of a much-bigger body occupying the other half, or two-thirds, of her mattress.

Too tall to fit the mattress length, Torin laid at an angle on his right side, facing the curtain. The quilt barely covered the top of his shoulder.

Probably the most comfortable position for his wrapped left wrist. His injury. Her thoughts stilled, and she bit back a gasp. In all the hustle of the wedding and setting up the camp, she’d forgotten to offer him willow bark tea. He’d had at least one cupful every morning and evening since they’d met. She levered herself up on an elbow, wondering if Torin was still awake and if she should offer to remedy the oversight.

A breathy snore was her answer.

One simple wifely duty, and she’d failed. An omission that boded ill for the next two weeks.

~~**~~

My first story in the Montana Sky Kindle World

About The Author:

After years spent in the administrative support field, Linda decided to exercise another part of her brain and write a novel. She loved reading romance and figured that’s what she’d write. Easier said than done. After years of workshops and RWA chapter meetings, she finally saw her manuscripts place in contests. Twelve years after her first writing class, she sold a confession story. From that point on, she couldn’t be stopped and is always pleased when her sweet-to-sensual contemporary and historical stories find homes.

With interests as widespread as baking, crocheting, watching dog agility matches, and reading thrillers by Swedish authors, Linda is the mother to 4 adult children and grandmother to 2 granddaughters. She currently lives in the southern California mountains with her husband of 37 years and their two much-loved dogs.

Web Contacts

Website

Blog

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

To keep updated on upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter here

Buffalo Bill’s Wild West

For my latest story, An Unlikely Marriage, I researched the phenomenon known as Buffalo Bill. My heroine, with experience as a vaudevillian, has aspirations of being a part of the production known as “America’s National Entertainment.” The performance went by several names because the shows in the 1870s started out as reenactments for Eastern audiences of what William F. Cody had done in real life on the Western frontier.

William F. Cody had a varied career involving jobs as a civilian Army scout, a Pony Express rider (in actuality, he worked as a messenger for the company that operated the Pony Express), a guide through unmapped territory, and he participated in military skirmishes during the Civil War. After the war, he served as a buffalo hunter for both the Army and the Kansas Pacific Railroad. In 1871, as a gesture to cement US-Russian relations, Grand Duke Alexis, 21-year-old son of Russian Czar, was escorted on a good hunting experience. The five-day excursion included two companies of infantry and two of cavalry and a regiment band. George Armstrong Custer was brought from his assignment in Kentucky, and Cody was released from his Fifth Cavalry duties in Arizona. General Sheridan wanted Indians brought along to demonstrate their dances and songs. Brulé Sioux Spotted Tail, along with 100 of his men, participated.

His real life accomplishments were recounted in newspapers to such an extent that a dime novelist, Ned Buntline (pen name for Edward Zane Carroll Judson), made “Buffalo Bill” the hero of several stories. Then Judson convinced Cody to play himself in stage productions (one was named “The Scouts of the Prairie”) and recreate some of his frontier deeds. Cody would work out West in the fair weather and perform on Eastern stages in the winter months.

Cody excelled in plains showmanship—horse races, buffalo shooting contests, hunting excursions. So he decided he would take control of his own persona, and he staged his first Wild West exhibition in Omaha, Nebraska in 1883. Each year the production was refined—he hired writers to create scripts, artists to paint scenery, and directors to schedule the acts. The company traveled with a wooden set of a painted mountain range. When Cody realized the audience was mostly to males, he wooed sharpshooter Annie Oakley to join in 1885 to make the production more appealing to women. The entire summer of 1886 was spent performing at Erastina Amusement Grounds on Staten Island. Also this is the first year a winter season was contracted, and Cody rented Madison Square Garden so performances happened under a roof. Murals 40’x1500’ were painted to represent prairies, mountains, forest as backdrops to the performances. The orchestra were all dressed as cowboys—provided dramatic background to acts and played other music to bridge between acts.

Cody went on to perform in Europe and then returned to America where his productions ran until 1916. Through it all, his costume remained rough like a frontiersman. His outfit was long buckskin coat with fur collar and cuffs, a line of fur ran above a strip of embroidered design above a fringed hem, fringe hung from the cap of the shoulder and along the back of each arm from shoulder to wrist. Boots were at the knee or, in later years, three inches above the knee. Later coats were mid-thigh with no fur, epaulets on the shoulders, fringe on cap of armhole, and gloves with leather gauntlet cuffs.

Even though Cody through his persona of Buffalo Bill proved himself a master showman, he never allowed ‘show’ to be part of any print advertising. To him, the performances were a retelling of his life.

An Unlikely Marriage releases on July 27^th as part of Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World. Linda Carroll-Bradd is offering a copy to one lucky commenter on this blog. Name to be chosen on July 28.

19th Century Corporate Espionage

When creating the hero for my latest release, Laced By Love, I wanted him to have a skill that allowed him to set up a shop wherever he traveled. Because I was writing a story set in a pre-established world (Montana Sky Kindle World) of a Montana Territory mining town, I already knew any characters coming to this town needed to be ready to build their own house quickly. The town’s boarding house and individuals cabins were for those who worked in the mines.

So I decided to make him a saddler and started on the path of researching tanning hides and working with leather. What I learned was fascinating (as often is with research). When asked about quality leather most people think of Italian or Cordovan leather. But I discovered in the 18^th century the highest quality leather was considered to be of Russian manufacture. Not only was the leather supple and cross-hatched, rich in color, it was also water resistant and it repelled insects. Plus it contained a distinctive sweet odor.  To keep the value high, the Russians were very secretive about the tanning process, even though spies were sent from Europe to attempt to learn the secrets.

In this case, what was learned was the hides soaked for 4 months in a pre-tanning solution, then they were turned or mixed daily for up to an additional 6 months. The hides were then transferred to vats   filled with water and bark from various trees (oaks, larch, poplar, willow) where they sat for up to 18 months. Afterward the hides were dried, pounded with mallets, shaved to a uniform thinness, pulled over sharp rings  to create the cross hatching, and finally dressed with oils—the secret ingredients of which was never discovered before the Russian Revolution of 1917 when the factories and all the records were destroyed.

shaving the hide

The concept of corporate spies in the 18^th and 19^th centuries intrigued me. So my hero became a leather worker whose family had plied the trade for several generations. His father first arrived in America as a tanner for the Russian settlements along the Pacific coast in the 1850-1860s. Spies came snooping about the family’s San Francisco business, so the father sent his three sons in separate directions until the patent received final approval. My hero, Nicolai, had moved three times in the past year to avoid suspected spies and keep the formula secret. With hopes of settling in Morgan’s Crossing, Nic builds a shop with living quarters in the back. And he’s just opened business when the vaudeville troupe the heroine, Cinnia, performs with arrives.

The element of subterfuge and secrecy adds another layer to the conflict that I hope intrigues readers.

Linda Carroll-Bradd writes both contemporaries and historical romance with a touch of humor and a bit of sass. More information on other titles can be found on her website or Amazon author page. To keep current on upcoming releases, subscribe to her newsletter.

 http://amzn.com/B01BL0HL4K

If you’re so inclined, please tweet this blog post.

19^th Century Corporate Espionage in LACED BY LOVE @lcarrollbradd #SweetAmerSweethearts http://amzn.com/B01BL0HL4K