Poor Sheriff Cole Walker has a Heap of Trouble. He chases
after pretty Mattie Wells who steals his heart, Beggar, a monkey who
steals the townspeople's knackery, and a wily gang stealing JJ’s cattle. All at the same time.
Chapter 1
He pulled up short. “What the ….?” Thumbing back his
Stetson, he stared at the half-eaten chicken pieces and crumbs littering the
desktop and floor. “Who the heck ate my lunch? Someone’s sure in for a passel
of trouble.”
Cole checked the two jail cells in the back room. Still
empty. Maybe a hard-luck case decided to sneak upstairs to his living quarters
and get cozy at his expense. He took the steps two-at-a-time.
Nope. “Dang it! This sure galls me after spending two nights sleepin’ under the stars.” The steps groaned as he stomped back downstairs.
He jammed his hat on the wall-peg by the door then ran his fingers through his sweaty dark hair, not relishing the notion of fetching more food in this heat. Baldy would probably ring his ears off, too. He’d rather starve than listen to the old coot, no matter how tasty his chicken and fixin’s.
Something shuffled under the desk.
The
hair on the back of Cole’s neck prickled. He drew his six-shooter and worked
his way over slow and easy like then leaped in front of the desk. 
“Come out you dang thief, or I’ll pump you full of lead.”
Silence.
He bent his knees, his eyes glued on the darkness under the
desk, the gun steady. Two small eyes focused on him. His heart smacked the
bottom of his ribs and his stomach jumped up to meet it. He jerked upright and
backpedalled—fast. “Who let a critter in the office? Someone playing a
joke?”
Cole settled his finger on the trigger. Any critter was a
menace, clear and simple. He still had the scar on his butt from his pa’s hound
dog when he was a little mite to prove it. And, he didn’t even want to think
about the time Widow Cox’s cat wouldn’t come down from her apple tree. When he
had reached for the cat, it lunged and buried its claws into his chest. Cole
had bellowed like a wounded mule and fell into the blackberry thorns below,
ripping his new shirt to shreds. Uh-uh, critters didn’t cotton to him, nothing
but bad luck and a heap of trouble.
Six-shooter firmly gripped, he hunkered down and peered under
the desk again. Soft brown eyes in a little face blinked back. The animal
chattered and poked out its head.
Cole steadied his pistol. His mouth popped open. “A monkey!
Here in Kansas?”
The monkey screeched and covered its eyes with tiny hands.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, Cole
eased back on the trigger.
The critter peeked at him from between small fingers then
curled into a quivering ball on the plank floor. Cole stepped back to the wall,
crouched, gun held steady on the bundle of fur. A shiny metal collar encircled
its neck. “A pet? Who in tarnation would take to owning a monkey in these
parts?”
He took a deep breath to settle his nerves and eyed the
broom propped in the corner. Maybe he could swoosh the varmint out the door. He
didn’t have to get close to it, and he had a fast draw if needed.
Eyes
never leaving the monkey, he stood and slid his back along the rough wall, his
shirt rasping on the wood. He made his way slowly past the grimy window and
snatched the broom.
Cole holstered his gun, sidled over to the door and opened it
wide, the piercing August sunlight almost blinding him.
He swallowed hard. “Come on fella, get outta here!” The
bristles sent the animal screeching and scurrying to the back room toward the
cells.
Cole lightened his steps and peered around the corner. The
menace was hanging onto one of the jail bars.
Dang. He ran under the desk again and the door’s wide open.
Cole peeked at the monkey huddled in the dark kneehole. “If you don’t get out
that door and get lost, I’m gonna have to shoot you. You understand? Now get!
Shoo!” Cole flapped his arms like a wounded bird trying for flight and stomped
on the floor, making a ruckus. No luck.
He leaned on his long handled weapon, sighed, then slid his
hand down the wood handle and sat on the floor. He didn’t trust the monkey
worth a dang. Critters belonged outside, not underfoot—especially under his
foot. But, what if it belonged to some youngster? He couldn’t stand the thought
of some snot-nosed tyke crying his little heart out and badmouthing the big bad
sheriff who shot his pet.
A rumble from his stomach reminded him the varmint ate his
lunch. Now he’d have to wait till suppertime for a decent meal. Sweat pooled
under his arms, his shirt stuck to his back. He needed a smoke …bad.
Cole reached into his shirt pocket and took out his makings.
He laid the broom tight to his thigh. Unsteady hands lost some tobacco but he
managed to roll a cigarette and light it. He had to think up a way to get this
unholy terror out of his office.
The monkey peered at him, blinking his eyes pathetically. It
crept from under the desk. Cole held his breath and inched his hand toward the
broom. The monkey somersaulted, stood straight, and clapped its hands. Cole
swore the little thing was grinning. It somersaulted again then hopped up and
down, clapping.
Cole snapped his fingers. The monkey chattered, nodded its
head, then did another tumble. After a long drag on the cigarette, Cole snapped
his fingers again, his right hand never far from the broom, or his holster. The
creature sat on the floor, tilted its head, and stared at him. Cole evil-eyed
him back while he ground the butt out on the floor.
Cole snapped his fingers. The monkey chattered, nodded its
head, then did another tumble. After a long drag on the cigarette, Cole snapped
his fingers again, his right hand never far from the broom, or his holster. The
creature sat on the floor, tilted its head, and stared at him. Cole evil-eyed
him back while he ground the butt out on the floor.
A biscuit lay next to the wall. Cole threw it at his foe.
The monkey made a quick one-handed grab, blinked, and gnawed on the crust. The
thing did look a little scrawny. “When you’re done eating my lunch, will you leave?”
The monkey looked up and shook its head.
“Huh? If I pack you a lunch, will you leave?” Again, the
monkey blinked and shook its head. Cole’s chest tightened and he put his hand
on the warm grip of his pistol. “If I shoot at you, will you leave?” The monkey
shrieked, ran under the desk, and hid its eyes with its hands.
“Who are you shooting at, Cole? And why in the world are you
sitting on the floor?”
His head snapped up and he found himself sinking into the
sweetest blue eyes. Mattie Wells grinned, deepening the dimples in her cheeks.
***
Price: Kindle price $5.50
Genre: Western romance/action/mystery/humor
Publisher:
MuseItUp Publishing
Y'all come and read about my adventures
Funny excerpt Lorrie,
ReplyDeleteThe monkey definitely steals the scene along with the food:) An entertaining and unique animal to have in the story. Nice job!
Sara
Thank you, Sara. This book was fun to write. And thanks for leaving a comment.
ReplyDeleteLorrie
Look at you! All those cute pictures. Maybe this should be an illustrated book, Lorrie.
ReplyDeleteHa, ha, that would be cute. But, alas, it would take up too many pages.
ReplyDeleteLoved this story, Lorrie! Great first chapter.
ReplyDeleteComing from such a proficient writer as you, Cate, that's quite a compliment. Thank you.
ReplyDelete