This week the first book in my 12-volume Mountain Man series will be on sale for $0.99 on Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Scribd, Tolino, and more.
The novel’s set in Montana during the winter of 1806.
Here’s a short excerpt:
Captain Meriwether Lewis scrunched up his face and braced himself before lowering down onto the chair. Despite his efforts, a pain shot up from the bullet wound in his backside, causing him to flinch and grimace further. In the corner, Captain William Clark chuckled under his breath, though not quietly enough.
“Oh, shut up!”
“What!”
“It damn well could have been you that Pierre shot in the ass just as it was me.”
Clark shrugged. “I suppose that’s possible, though I’d never have put myself into such a compromising position to begin with.”
Lewis frowned and was about to offer a rejoinder, a really good one too, when the tent flap opened and John Colter appeared.
“Oh, beg pardon, captains,” he said, then closed it and shouted out, “Captains, Private John Colter here, permission to enter.”
Lewis looked over at Clark, who only shook his head, so he turned back and called out. “Permission granted, Private Colter.”
John Colter entered the tent this time, a large smile on his face.
“Sirs,” he began, rubbing at his beard and stepping from one foot to the other, “there are two trappers heading upriver.”
“Yes,” Clark said from his spot at the desk, “I met them on the Knife myself, the first of the party to do so. It seems they’re heading up to the headwaters of the Missouri, or at least think they are.”
He scoffed and looked over at Lewis, who only offered a slight smile.
“They’ll have a helluva time of it, captain,” Colter said, his face firm and without humor.
“That they will,” Clark agreed, “but I don’t see what concern it is of ours.”
“The thing of it is, sir,” Colter began with a fair amount of hesitation, for he was always a bit reticent of questioning the two captains, especially after the leniency they’d shown him in Pittsburgh when he’d threatened to shoot Sergeant Ordway. Clark seemed to sense this.
“Go on.”
Colter nodded. “The thing of it is, sirs…I’d like to guide those men upriver.”
Lewis and Clark both stared at Colter, neither surprised at what they were hearing.
“I feel that I know both the Upper-Missouri route and the Yellowstone route,” Colter said quickly when he felt his previous words had been hanging in the air too long.
“Oh, and how do you figure that, Private?” Lewis asked with a slight smile.
“Because you had George with you on your team of four,” Colter replied evenly. “Since you got back on the 12th, we’ve been discussing the route.”
“Can’t be discussing much,” Lewis laughed when he thought of the small party he’d led to the Marias River a few weeks before, “we damn-well got run out of there!”
“Nonetheless, sir, George is pretty convincing on the route.”
Lewis leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms, staring at Colter for a moment before looking to Clark. He shrugged, as if to say ‘what do you want me to do?’ Clark took in a breath and let it out slowly, then turned his attention back to Colter.
“Oh, shut up!”
“What!”
“It damn well could have been you that Pierre shot in the ass just as it was me.”
Clark shrugged. “I suppose that’s possible, though I’d never have put myself into such a compromising position to begin with.”
Lewis frowned and was about to offer a rejoinder, a really good one too, when the tent flap opened and John Colter appeared.
“Oh, beg pardon, captains,” he said, then closed it and shouted out, “Captains, Private John Colter here, permission to enter.”
Lewis looked over at Clark, who only shook his head, so he turned back and called out. “Permission granted, Private Colter.”
John Colter entered the tent this time, a large smile on his face.
“Sirs,” he began, rubbing at his beard and stepping from one foot to the other, “there are two trappers heading upriver.”
“Yes,” Clark said from his spot at the desk, “I met them on the Knife myself, the first of the party to do so. It seems they’re heading up to the headwaters of the Missouri, or at least think they are.”
He scoffed and looked over at Lewis, who only offered a slight smile.
“They’ll have a helluva time of it, captain,” Colter said, his face firm and without humor.
“That they will,” Clark agreed, “but I don’t see what concern it is of ours.”
“The thing of it is, sir,” Colter began with a fair amount of hesitation, for he was always a bit reticent of questioning the two captains, especially after the leniency they’d shown him in Pittsburgh when he’d threatened to shoot Sergeant Ordway. Clark seemed to sense this.
“Go on.”
Colter nodded. “The thing of it is, sirs…I’d like to guide those men upriver.”
Lewis and Clark both stared at Colter, neither surprised at what they were hearing.
“I feel that I know both the Upper-Missouri route and the Yellowstone route,” Colter said quickly when he felt his previous words had been hanging in the air too long.
“Oh, and how do you figure that, Private?” Lewis asked with a slight smile.
“Because you had George with you on your team of four,” Colter replied evenly. “Since you got back on the 12th, we’ve been discussing the route.”
“Can’t be discussing much,” Lewis laughed when he thought of the small party he’d led to the Marias River a few weeks before, “we damn-well got run out of there!”
“Nonetheless, sir, George is pretty convincing on the route.”
Lewis leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms, staring at Colter for a moment before looking to Clark. He shrugged, as if to say ‘what do you want me to do?’ Clark took in a breath and let it out slowly, then turned his attention back to Colter.
