Undying Love A Secrets of Roseville Novel by Betty Bolte'

Meredith Reed stared at the plantation home she’d inherited from a grandmother she hadn’t seen in years. A pair of ancient live oaks, the inspiration for the Twin Oaks name, guarded either side of the sprawling two-story brick dwelling, providing shade and funneling cool air through the house. Sunlight filtered through the Spanish moss draped on the massive limbs. Meredith raised one hand to shield the glare as she scanned the façade. The

architect in her appreciated the symmetry of the Greek Revival style as well as the quality workmanship of the brickwork. “It really hasn’t changed. Not much.” She studied the once-elegant antebellum house, its wide front steps missing a brick here and there, its six elaborate Corinthian columns and intricately carved woodwork surrounding the double doors. The property description listed ten bedrooms, four bathrooms dating from the early twentieth century, a gourmet kitchen, two parlors, an upstairs ballroom, and several outbuildings. 
“It’s a real treasure.” The estate lawyer, Max Chandler, who had driven her out to the four-hundred-acre property, had barely spoken during the entire trip except to relay pertinent details of the surprise inheritance, including the fact she had also inherited her grandmother’s sizable and diversified investment account. She’d have preferred to drive her own car, especially since he drove one of those redneck pickup trucks. Sitting in a vehicle with an attractive man set her teeth on edge. Worrying about what might happen tensed every muscle in her body. He also didn’t need to know how edgy being with him made her, as if her skin burned the closer he drew. But he’d insisted until she ungraciously relented. She picked her fights, and that one wasn’t worth the effort. 
The rolling Tennessee countryside had flowed past the window, immense fields dotted with horses and cows. Green shoots poked through the tilled earth in rows, reaching for the early spring sunshine. She’d noticed her surroundings automatically, but none of the hauntingly familiar sights held her interest. Once she no longer sat in the unfamiliar truck, her tense muscles eased, and she drew a deep breath as she studied the building. Why on earth had her grandmother, whom she hadn't seen in nearly ten years, chosen her to receive the grandiose house that stood for everything she would never have? The family she could never have? Pain combined with a deep-seated longing blossomed in her chest. Three front steps led up to a brick porch with its immense white columns announcing to passersby that the building was more than a house. Unlike the small, boxy ranchers and nondescript houses they’d passed on the drive to the plantation, this structure cried out for a large family. Her parents had often carried her and her sister Paulette from Memphis to visit Grandma when she was a child. Back when love and laughter echoed through the many rooms. 
A great blue heron fished in the two-acre lake in front of the house, where they had once splashed and played. The huge yard, graced with several shade trees—

the site of barbecues and softball games, with the extended family arguing over who potentially cheated or whooping with glee when a good shot was made—now stood silent, accusing her of neglect and indifference. So be it. She stiffened her spine. She would not wallow in self-pity nor give in to the temptation to hug her arms around her waist and cry. She squinted at the glare from the windows nestled into the brick walls, noting the ivy climbing up one front corner. Willy would want her to move on, build a new life, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Even after a year, the grief and anger stewed in her brain, sizzled in her veins, and throbbed in her heart. “Shall we go inside?” Max leaned his tall frame against the hood of the green F-150 pickup, arms folded, his curiosity evident in his expression. The color of his eyes as he waited for her response reminded her of the crystal blue of glacier ice, and that thought evoked the bittersweet memory of her and Willy on their honeymoon trip to Alaska. The glorious clear sky that day had created a perfect backdrop to the pod of whales they watched blowing. She heard again the cry of eagles as they soared majestically above the surrounding mountains. The trip of her life with the love of her life. Back when they had their entire lives stretching before them, full of promise and hope. The weight of her wedding band drew her attention for a moment. She refused to remove it and lose the last connection she had with her husband. 
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the spell of Max’s intent gaze. She fished the contraption out and glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey Buddy, what’s up?” 
“Just letting you know the Murphy job is put to bed.” Her boss’s brusque, businesslike voice helped her focus, steady her breathing. 
“That’s good news. I left it ready to close out.” Buddy coughed and cleared his throat. “I only had to smooth out the final walk-through.” A chill spread through her at his words and the tone of his voice. 
“What do you mean? It was all set up and ready to rock and roll.” 
“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” 
She bet. Like he always did. With the end result a mess she had to sort back out again.” 

A flash of blue in an upstairs window drew her attention, and she peered at the pane. Blinked away the lingering image. An illusion. A pair of turkey buzzards spiraling high above reflected off the window, wings outstretched so that the tips of their feathers stood out against the sky. Bringing home memories of how she used to pretend to be dead to lure them in, and then jump up and scatter them on the breeze. Memories she couldn’t afford to resurrect. 
Her stay in the rural community of Magnolia Grove, Tennessee, would last no more than a month, maybe two, tops. She could survive that long. “Fine. I’ll follow up with her when I get back to Maryland.” Meredith ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket as Max pushed off from his spot near the front of the truck. 
“What is it you do again?” Max aimed mirrored sunglasses in her direction. “I’m an architect.” She slid her purse strap more securely onto her shoulder. She snatched the manila folder off the hood of the vehicle, a file Max had handed to her at his office. Inside were copies of the legal papers he’d reviewed with her across his massive mahogany desk. “Why?” 
“Your grandmother said you were the perfect heir for this property.” He let his gaze drift away from her to scan the hundreds of acres of fields and trees, across the lake, and on to the various outbuildings surrounding the plantation house. A circle of trees nearly hid the old gazebo from view, but they couldn’t stop the surge of memories of afternoons spent with her sister playing under its roof. Glimpses of white painted boards and black wrought-iron trim appeared through the dense branches and limbs sprouting with new growth. Meredith dropped her attention to the folder, severing the thread of the past, and turned a page without reading it. 
Why did Max care what she did? She slanted a questioning glance his way. “I enjoy designing beautiful yet useful buildings.” 
“Listen, I hate to rush this,” Max said, his words clipped, “but I have a client to meet in an hour. Let me show you around.” He indicated for her to lead up the steps. Bristling at his tone, Meredith pinned him with a stare. 
“Look, you don’t need to. It’s been a while, true, but I have been here before. I know the layout. We can go.” Then she wouldn’t have to go inside and relive the happy, carefree days of her childhood through the weary eyes of an adult while Max watched. 
He shook his head, his dark chocolate hair touched with gray sweeping his collar, watching her. “Things have changed. You may be surprised by what you find inside.” He tapped a hand against one thigh and cocked his head to gaze at her for a long moment. “Either way, you should take stock of what you’ve inherited.” He didn’t appear much like a lawyer, truth be told. Didn’t lawyers wear prescription glasses and look nerdy? Not that she believed in stereotypes, but all that studying must make their eyes weak. Max was the other end of the spectrum. Perhaps her grandmother had a need for eye candy when she chose him as her estate planner. He was delicious to contemplate, that’s for sure. Probably a couple inches taller than a cornstalk with a soccer player’s physique, Max could double for a cover model. She appreciated his classic good looks, straight nose, and strong jaw. Dressed in khakis and a deep red polo shirt, he seemed more ready for a round of golf than a client meeting. He represented the unattainable type of man for her. The kind embodying something too smart, too handsome, too much for her taste. Even if she were in the market for a man, which she was not. None of that mattered since she would be staying in the area for a short while. 
Despite her hard shell of indifference to the opposite sex, she couldn’t help a moment of succumbing to the temptation of drinking her fill of his appearance. But only for an instant. If she let her guard down, her personal destruction would soon follow. “I don’t want to keep you, is all.” Meredith waved a hand at the vehicle. “I’m a big girl. Take me to my car. I’ll come back on my own.” “Actually, your grandmother made it clear she wanted me to show you around when you claimed the place,” he replied. “She wanted to be sure you appreciate the extent of the inheritance and had an opportunity to see how much work is needed to put it to rights. So, if you’ll follow me?” 
He nipped up the steps, obviously expecting her to concede the point. 
“And Grandma always gets her way.” With a sigh, Meredith shadowed him through the white double doors into the chilly front hall. She stopped inside the doorway to look around. The sickly smell of mildew hit her senses like a wrecking ball, bringing tears that smarted the corners of her eyes. Crossing the threshold was like stepping back in time to another era. “It’s exactly like I remember. Well, except for the smell.” 
Max nodded. “Mrs. O’Connell prided herself on ensuring any necessary repairs matched the original decor and architecture. But as time went on, she wasn’t able to keep up with the issues of an old, historic home. A few repairs will be necessary. Your talents, skills, and expertise are why she left Twin Oaks to you instead of your father. You know, so you can ensure the repairs are appropriate to its original grandeur.” 
Dark wood floors reached throughout the plantation house. The stairs rose slowly from the left, boasting dark wood treads with white painted fronts, up to a wraparound loft. A cherry table sheltered against the wall beneath the stairs, showcasing a dainty crystal lamp centered on a lace doily. She smiled, spying the small door standing invitingly ajar, leading to the games closet tucked under the stairs. A colorful rug invited guests to cross the space toward the ladies parlor on the right or the double parlor on the left. In days gone by, the gentlemen would have adjourned to the larger retreat after dinner to smoke and drink. Farther down the hall leading from the foyer, light spilled onto the wood floors from the windows in the back rooms. A chill settled on her shoulders. The back room on the right had been her grandmother’s sewing room—her favorite spot in the entire house—and the room in which she’d died, according to Max. 
Meredith shook off the thought and focused instead on the condition of the house. She moseyed into the parlor, noting the dusty, cobwebby, overstuffed chairs and dark wood furniture. Faded and peeling, the rose-patterned wallpaper competed with the brocade drapes for attention. Above the rose marble fireplace, she spotted the relief carving of the Irish Claddagh: two hands reaching toward

the center where a heart wore a royal crown. Her grandmother loved to tell stories about the Claddagh, representing bonds of love, friendship, and loyalty. She inhaled, smelling dust and cold ashes from the fireplace mingled briefly with a faint yet familiar scent she couldn’t place. She mentally shook her head. No matter. Scanning the room, Meredith let her gaze touch each piece of antique furniture, each grimy object d’art, each vase of tired silk flowers. The dismal scene before her contrasted sharply with how everything once shone with loving attention. She had started debating selling the property before she even packed her suitcase...

~~~

Undying love:

Secrets of Roseville

By Betty Bolte'

If her inheritance from her grandmother had come several years ago, she would have welcomed it as a new home for her family. But last year, in a horrible assault, a thief had murdered her husband. That was bad enough, but Meredith Reed had been pregnant and also been shot. She lived, but the baby was also murdered. Nothing had been able to allow Meredith to forget what she had lost and seeing what could have once been a place in which she would continue the family heritage was nothing more than a reminder of how many flashbacks still continued to haunt her...

The thing was that her grandmother had picked her out for the inheritance for a reason. Meredith was an architect and had won many awards on her work. Her grandmother anticipated that with the entire inheritance, including funds, that Meredith would work to bring their family home back to its original grandeur.

Family drama soon erupted, though, when Meredith's first decision was for herself--she wanted to build a memorial park to honor her lost family as well as all of her ancestors...and others... With Meredith being the younger child, her sister as well as her parents felt they had a right to try to stop her... The thing was that Meredith's plans included destroying their family home and turning the land back to natural use...

At first, I was concerned about the two main characters in particular. Meredith comes off as very selfish, yet as the story moves forward, she begins to open up to both the pain of her past as well as to being home once again, and with her family from whom she had pulled away from over the years...

The one character that also confuses us is Max, who is the estate lawyer. He was adamant that Meredith follow her grandmother's wishes and fulfill her duty! Not something Meredith was willing to even listen to at that time in her life. We do get to know more of Max's personal feelings and find that he has loved the property since he first saw it...and only wished that he had sufficient funds to have the ability to own such a home for his future... Of course, he also needed to find that wife to share that home. As is common, the two main characters do find themselves attracted to the other. But are arguing over much as the story proceeds.

The one thing that was able to pull Meredith into the present situation was that, first, she had seen a woman looking out from the second floor on the day she had arrived. Then as she started to clear things out, pending what she would do with the house, she found many books, letters and journals from her ancestors... When she arrived at the point where a family member had disappeared, she was hook into the intrigue and mystery of what had happened to her!

And when she realized that the missing woman had begun to be called the Lady in Blue, and it had been probably her at the window, Meredith wanted to know more, especially when she began to smell a scent--flowery, and nobody else seemed to be able to smell it, Meredith became convinced that she was being haunted...

Blending the historical past with its secrets is often an engaging read as we both go back into the beginning of the story hundreds of years ago, while at the same time, living in the present, trying to respond to today's issues within the historical background. There were hints throughout the book, but, for me, none of them stuck...so I was totally surprised with the conclusion of the Lady's secrets...

I was watching Meredith closely because everybody other than her thought it was crazy to raze the family home. Still with a tragic family loss recently that devastated the whole family, I could see and understand why Meredith could not--was not able to--deal with what everybody was expecting and pushing for her to do... It is a lesson that we must learn for ourselves, but which requires sympathy as well as empathy for those involved.

This multi-genre paranormal, historical, romance, mystery will pull you into the story after the first chapter or two. Max and Meredith are two independent, opinionated, and aggressive people who find a match in meeting each other. If you allow them to be themselves, with their own fears and desires, you'll be soon watching as the family drama, which includes, by the way, a wonderful couple who has helped on the estate for many years, pulls each character into merging, once again, as a loving family. Highly recommended.


GABixlerReviews

Betty Bolté writes both historical and contemporary stories featuring strong, loving women and brave, compassionate men. No matter whether the stories are set in the past or the present, she loves to include a touch of the paranormal. In addition to her romantic fiction, she’s the author of several nonfiction books and earned a Master’s in English in 2008. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and the Authors Guild. Get to know her at www.bettybolte.com.

Second in Series

Clyde Linsley Presents Old River - Part History - Part Mystery/Suspense - A Totally Unusual, Intriguing Book!

...How many young ladies would leave the comforts of their home and strike out with their husbands on a wilderness adventure such as this? Lydia had done so not once, but twice. When Roosevelt had first broached the idea of steam travel to New Orleans, he knew that a preliminary journey would first be required, by more conventional means, in order to determine the feasibility of such an endeavor. Most new wives would have objected to such an excursion, which would take him away from their home for the better part of a year if, indeed, he was able to return at all.

Not Lydia. She had approved enthusiastically and insisted (to the horror of her family) on accompanying him. She had also entered wholeheartedly into the planning of the excusion, adding a number of design  touches to the keelboat that was being built to take them on their downstream adventure. As a consequence, the boat had separate quarters for the couple and for the crew, a galley for meal preparations, a deck with chairs for enjoying the summer evenings under the western stars, and an awning for shelter from the sweltering Southern sun.

She was also pregnant on that first trip downriver, but the hardship of arrying an unborn child and delivering it in the wilderness had not discouraged her then, nor did it discourage her on this, their second journey. When at last Roosevelt had cinvinced his backers of the feasibility of his ultimate experiment, she was once more by his side, a full and enthusiastic partner in his enterprise.

Robert Fulton

http://steamboattimes.com/

Building the steamboat was a much more complicated task than building the keelboat according to their needs and desires. For the steamboat, there were backers to consider, notably the formidable partnership of Robert Levenson, one of the signers of the Constitution, and Robert Fulton, the man widely considered to be the nation's reigning expert on steam transportation. Roosevelt was responsible for building and operating the boat, but it was Fulton who specified how the boat would look.

Fortunately, neither Levinson nor Fulton was present in Pittsburgh, where the New Orleans was constructed; their homes and commercial interests were in the east. So Nicholas--and Lydia--did the job in the manner they felt appropriate and sent the final bill to their backers.

The total came to $38,000, an unbelievable sum for that time. The backers were aghast. Outraged. They threatened not to pay. Much of it, in fact, they did not pay, which created financial problems for Roosevelt later. But the New Orleans was

launched and on its way to the city for which it had been named.

The comet that appeared in the sky in those days was widely considered a harbinger of terrible things to come.

~~~

Old River

By Clyde Linsley

Long before the time when we celebrated Old Man River in 1950, there is a much more daunting tale of what it took for man to conquer rivers in order to make them usable for man's needs. Some believed that the meandering of the water was at the discretion of God and if it chose to relocate and flood in areas, destroying property, well, that was The Will of God...

This book moves from the past to the present, but, as you read, it feels like you are merely reading two books at one time. One book provides the story of what actually happened in the 1800s as men tried to harness the river. The book spotlights the genius inventor and steamboat captain of much of these endeavors, Henry Miller Shreve. In itself, it is an interesting, exciting historical story that is enjoyable in itself...

However, one man looked at all that had been done and saw something totally different from many of us studying the river's role in our past. In fact, I challenge that the author even deceived readers in the telling of his story...But, then, why not? It certainly kept this reader trying to...understand...why murders were now occurring...apart, but within the area surrounding Old River...

"Where you goin'," Leversque said.
"Back to the office," Sprenkel said, "Gotta
get out of this sun."
"Shit," said Levesque, "If the sun's botherin'
you now, what're you going to do when
summer gets here?"
"I don't even wanna think about it," Sprenkel
said. "Just keep me posted on what you find."
~~~

So while you are beginning the historical ride on the rivers surrounding the Mississippi and down into New Orleans, on...

The First Day, in Concordia Parish, Louisiana, the body was found... The woman lay face down amid tall grass. She had been badly beaten. Sheriff John Sprenkel was familiar with violent death, but this death bothered him more than most...

Sprenkel pondered this. "Some woman we don't know gets herself raped and beat up and strangled in the middle of a swamp. It's cases like this make me wish I'd gone into insurance like my mother told me."

"You'd hate insurance," Levesque said.

"I'm not real fond of this either," Sprenkel said. Sprenkel looked around him. Grass and swamp and the river, and just downstream, a complex progression of dams and holding basins, all steel and concrete. Depressing...

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had made the right choice in coming to Louisiana. When he had first come down from Baltimore to take a deputy sheriff's job, Sprenkel had been excited: a change of scenery, warmer weather, a more leisurely pace than he'd been forced to follow in his previous jobs. But the job--and the scenery--had failed to live up to expectations The pace was slower--that much, at least, was true--but he found himself fighting off boredom. He hadn't anticipated boredom

~~~

And interesting Tidbit thrown in for your enjoyment

The Killer, Jerry Lee, performs "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On". Lewis was born to the poor family of Elmo and Mamie Lewis in Ferriday in Concordia Parish in eastern Louisiana, and began playing piano in his youth with his two cousins, Mickey Gilley and Jimmy Swaggart.
(Kenny Lovelace on fiddle)

The investigation quickly turns into a mystery when they discover that there are two different identities held by the dead woman...So was she a student and scholar, as claimed by her roommate with one name...or was she a streetwalker going by another name???

On The Sixth Day Sprenkel visited with a detective from the Memphis police department at the Van Dorn Residence. This was one of the names used by the woman who'd been murdered in Concordia Parish... Instead of questioning the potential parents, however, they found three more bodies, assuming they were the first victim's family. Were they? Sprenkel wouldn't be finding out anything that day, so he went on back home...

Sprenkel began the drive back to Louisiana. It was mid-day by now. The rain that had inundated the area during the previous day had mostly dried up in Memphis, but he saw increasing evidence of it as he drove south. As he drove through Mississippi he began to see puddles by the roadside.
He stopped at a roadside restaurant for coffee and was surprised to find that the ground was still soft. Returning to the car with his coffee, his shoes sank nearly an inch in the soft earth. And over the northern horizon, the rain clouds were forming again.
More rain was on the way.. For some reason that he couldn't put his finger on, a sense of dread came over him. He remembered the lines from a Bob Dylan song:

"Something is happening, and you don't know what it is

"Do you, Mr. Jones?"

~~~

If you're thinking I'm not covering much of the murder cases, you're right...They are all, yes, there's more death coming, and even a potential disaster, so closely entwined that I think it suffices to say that our main character, Sheriff John Sprenkel was pulled into all of them as he continued to solve his own case... I liked this character and was happy that the author provided much of his introspective thoughts so that readers got to know him...I would enjoy meeting him again in the future.

There is a little romantic twist that was fun, involving our Sheriff, by a young lady who also wanted to help solve the murder of her roommate... Sprenkel thought she was too young for him; she thought differently...

Not only does the mystery explode wide open as the climax comes closer, the whole deception at the beginning is blown to pieces. A type of strange twist I really wasn't fond of for other books, but the author handled it exceptionally well, so that readers will undoubtedly have a responsive feeling... Mine was disgust...LOL

I've not read an historical mystery like this one. It was only toward the end that you may get an inkling of what all the murders were really about... It's an intriguing story and I can recommend it highly for your consideration.


GABixlerReviews

Tough love. Maybe, thought Sprenkel, that's what God is employing.

Sprenkel wasn't sure how he felt about God, or what he believed. One thing, however, seemed certain: if God existed, John Sprenkel would not be on His list of favorite people. If, in fact, marital fidelity was high on God's list of virtues, then he, Sheriff John Sprenkel, was already probably consigned to hell...

Before crossing the bridge on his way back to Louisiana, he parked his car near the riverbank. He had always been fascinated by rivers, and the Mississippi fascinated him more than any other. It flowed implacably, relentlessly, to the Gulf of Mexico, despite all the machinations of men. It was hard to imagine this might stream could be seriously affectd by human activities.

But as he stood at the riverside and watched the water moving inexorably to the south, he felt the ground giving way beneath his feet. After stepping quickly backward, he saw a portion of the soil he had been standing on crumble and fall into the stream.

Standing now on (relatively) solid ground, he watched the sod get swallowed by the current. The clump submerged for a bit but then popped back to the surface, already dismembered and broken into small pieces. The current swept it on downstream until Sprenkel lost sight of it.

After a moment, he shook his head to chase away the image. He returned to his car and began the drive across the river to his office. He drove uncharacteristically slowly, lost in thought.

~~~

Jimmy Martin Presents The Case of Section 950, Seat E-14 - A Surprising Chaotic Mystery!

Sam drove into the parking lot, onfident that he hadn't been followed and went into the bar. It was a hot day for october, screaming hot, in fact, and Sam relaxed at the feel of the cool air inside. He walked to the bar, tosses out a 'hello' to his favorite bartender Mike, and pulled up a stool. All he wanted was peace and quiet, just a place to relax and enjoy the company of some, more or less, friendly strangers, who happen to be passing through life, at this place, at this time just as he was. He just wanted to be left alone, without anything that might lead to any problem. He wanted peace. 
He ordered a beer. His friend Mike was already bringing one before the words were out of his mouth. He was a regular and enjoyed the perks.
"Rough week, Sam?" Mike asked.
"Rough month, Mike."
They talked of the Halloween party that was coming soon. They bet on who they thought might win the 'Sexiest costume' award, any nonsense they thought of and nothing important at all to keep it light and insignificant.

Sam looked at the door as it opened, and there she was. She had the body of the progeny of a linebacker and a porno queen, with eyes Charlie Manson would love to fear. He tried to look away as fast as he could, but they made eye contact. She immediately made a bee-line for his position at the bar. He tried to make himself small. It didn't work.
"You're the guy I'm looking for!" she said to me.
"No, I'm not that guy," Sam said, hoping it would deflect her away.
"No, You ARE the exact guy I am looking for!" she exclaimed with a big, and horrible smile on her face.
"I was, maybe, but I'm sure as shit not anymore!" he said, hoping she would leave him alone. "I retired!"
"No, you're the guy. As soon as I saw yu I knew I needed YOUR help and none other!" she countered.
In her defense, who knows if she knew who or what he was. He had spent years as a contract this, or a freelance that. He'd been an engineer, written songs, took photos. He was an architect, a bartender, and a writer. Sam had sailed from the Bahamas to Belize, and trekked from Luckenback to, Hell, ALL the Hill Country venues. Most recently he was a bounty hunter, mostly anyways!

He felt he was losing the argument. He bowed up and proclaimed, "So, what if I AM that guy?!
"I'm in trouble," she said, and then she started to cry. Sam reacted like all men do, "What's wrong?" he asked...

~~~

The Case of Section 950, 
Seat E-14:

A Sam Cloudstone Novella

By Jimmy Martin

Get ready for a Fun Read!

A full-blooded Comanche, Sam has not really found his place in today's world. But, he's made his way through a number of occupations that have kept him fed. But when he meets Melissa Steinhardt, his life changes just by being around her! (Note that I couldn't find any Comanche actors, so I hope you agree with those I've chosen...I think you'll recognize both!)

It was funny since we never know whether Melissa had just chosen Sam randomly or he just looked like somebody who would help--and she needed it right away. Men were following her and she quickly led him to her car--a Porsche--to immediately move on and away...

For all Sam knew, she could have been a serial killer, since he had no idea where they were going and she was one wild woman! So Sam decided to take control of the situation, demanded who she was and what was going on. That's when he learned that her brother was in trouble, and probably already captured. Now they were after her and the only thing she had as a clue was a can of WWII C rations.

She looked at him with fiery hot eyes that could melt stone.

"They are after my brother, and I think they already have him. All I have is this." She showed him what, for all the world, looked like a can of World War 2 C-rations. There were some letters scratched onto the top. The letters and numbers etched were:

"11 20 78 MNF 950 E 14"

He looked at the series of numbers and thought that something about them was oddly familiar. He decided that he would figure it out later and stay focused on the imminent danger. He knew in his gut it would come to mind anyways and he could determine the relevance then...

"Tell me just exactly what you've gotten me into," Sam demanded of her. He drew in a deep breath and more gently continued, "and why c-rations?"

~~~

Sam was able to figure out what the message was and Sam and Melissa were soon on their way... the only thing is that the place to which the message referred to a football game held on November 20, 1978, and the Astrodome was no longer used for football! But that didn't stop Sam from some interesting memories...

At that moment, Sam felt really old and realized she looked like some kind of high school teenager. At least one with a smoking hot body! His mind began drifting off to images of a cheerleader outfit he'd seen looking online for the Halloween party, he quickly chased those thoughts away...

It didn't take long for them to find out the disposition of the seats in the Astrodome...only to complicate the whole case...because not only were they being chased by those who had Melissa's brother, they now had to find a way to get close to the seat now owned by a Oilers super fan who also happened to be a super-rich drug lord! 

In addition to the chase now going on, a twist takes readers into the background of what happened 70 years ago, in May 1945, in a little pub, "De Kleine Donig, in Wiesbaden...

...If we had attacked Scotland, instead of Germany, you would not only have an entire squad of Highlander's around you, you would probably have married one of them by now!" Heinrick replied.

March chuckled. "You're probably right. Well, since I'm hammering on your anyway, why are you always carving little notes on those old used C-Ration cans? Why don't you just use a piece of paper and a pencil like everyone else?"

"Pieces of paper I lose, but I can feel a C-Ration can in my pocket. Anyway, sometimes I do use paper, but I carry them around in my C-Ration can."

Fortunately Sam is normally ahead of what's happening, even to the point of making a call, "Kobayashe Maru, Kobayashi Maru, 2 hours." and simply getting "Understood."

While this may be a shorter book, the surprises keep coming all the way through and even Sam and Melissa quickly get into a sexual relationship with Melissa as the instigator...until Sam decides to take over control there as well...

"No Mike, that's not necessary. "This
time, I AM that guy!"

And when the mystery has been solved and Sam heads back to the Devil's Backbone Tavern,  to spend some time with Mike, his favorite bartender, once again, a "crazy woman bursts" in and comes racing over to say, "You're the guy!"

We've got one lone American Indian up against our government, a drug lord, with criminals coming out from everywhere. Sam is just what he says...he's trying to make it in today's world, without not too many of his people still around... I really enjoyed his character.

Now Melissa was something totally "wild" as the author said...It's a wonder she just didn't take her gun and take on everybody around by herself! She's bound to get your attention. I liked her a lot and, if the ending of this book ends as it seems, then I'm hoping both of these characters come back in a new mystery realllll soon! Enjoy this one!

GABixlerReviews

I was born in the 50's and therefore was a child of the 70's. Born and raised in Houston, I have lived in or around the Houston area all of my life. Like my main character Sam Cloudstone, I am a graduate Mechanical Engineer from Texas A&M University. Having attended there in the late 70's, I experienced an early adulthood much different than kids do today. We had no technology like what exists today, so we were much more dependent on our own insanity for our entertainment. I made many crazy friends, and I am proud to say that I still keep up with most of them.

I became an avid reader as soon as there wasn't some professor forcing me to read. It has always been a goal of mine to become a writer. My earliest heroes were the likes of Hunter S. Thompson, Douglas Adams, and Tom Clancy, but over the years I have read everything I could get from Hemingway to Kinky Friedman. 

I've always liked adventure novels, but I have always been a sucker for a good joke. Many of the characters in my first book, and hopefully subsequent books to come, are inspired by real friends and acquaintances.