My next novel, The Cowboy's Last Chance, releases on October 21 - just over two weeks away. It's available now for preorder in both eBook and paperback formats.
If you like to take a taste before you buy, check out the first chapter here and you want more, follow the links to order or bookmark them for release day.
Here's the blurb, then the chapter:
Blurb:
When Vivian Blackburn, recently returned to Southwest Missouri after her grandmother suffered a health setback, sets out to shoot pictures at a rodeo, she's not looking for a cowboy but when she meets bull rider Calhoun Kelly, she's found one. They have an instant attraction and rapport, so much that she follows him on the rodeo circuit. When they can, they head back to Missouri to visit her grandmother. They're compatible in every way but one – he has a strong Christian faith and she lost hers after her parents died. Still, they stay together through his bull riding lumps and bumps on the rodeo circuit. When Vivian experiences strange dreams that seem to warn Calhoun of upcoming danger, she doesn't know what to think and when the messages spread through his family, everyone is concerned. Calhoun decides to hang up his spurs at the end of the season but before he does, he and Vivian are married. They decide they'll settle at her grandmother's old farmhouse but not until he rides his last rodeo. When he's critically injured, his life hangs in the balance. Will Vivian find her faith and pray or be widowed? It's a close call but time will tell.
Chapter One
If Vivian shut her eyes and held her nose, she could almost believe they were in Nanna’s spacious living room at the Missouri farmhouse, instead of a tiny space within a long-term nursing care facility. But she couldn’t manage, so the stark beige walls, the narrow hospital-style bed, and the single window overlooking an enclosed patio represented reality.
Nana at ninety-four now resided here. Her once-vibrant brunette hair had become fully gray and although wheelchair bound, she made few complaints. After all, the farm had become more she could easily handle several years ago. Although she had stayed, the steep stairs to her bedroom had become difficult and finally impossible.
When Nanna Kate gave up driving four years ago, she no longer could make the trek to the grocery store or church or the café, so someone had to play chauffeur. Although sometimes one of Viv’s many cousins did their duty, she had been too far away to drive except on the occasional weekend or holiday. When a March snowstorm made the roads between town and the farm impassable, Nanna had exhausted the contents of her fridge, and pantry. Then she had fallen going downstairs, tripping over a blanket wrapped around her to stay warm. The result had been a cracked hip and a new address at the Sunny Morning Senior Citizens Home, a sweet-sounding name for a place Vivian would rather avoid.
Until Nana’s fall three months ago, Vivian lived in Kansas City, working as a reporter and photographer for a small suburban paper. Her hope had been to one day advance to the ranks of the Kansas City Star newspaper but so far, it hadn’t happened. Now wasn’t the best era to be involved in print journalism and once she got the call about her grandmother, Viv gave notice and moved back to Southwest Missouri.
For convenience, she bunked at the old farmhouse. Time and the interstate had combined to make the place not at all remote any longer. The two-story house had stood since the 1920s and once was a working farm out in the boonies of Southwest Missouri. Now, she could stand on the front porch and watch the vehicles zip by on the interstate. Even in the quietest hour of night, she heard the big trucks engage their compression brakes, the whine of steel-belted radials on the pavement, and the noise of engines, large and small.
A short trip down the driveway led to the outer road, then Vivian could take I-49 to town, getting off at the closest exit to the facility. It led past the local discount store, a variety of fast-food establishments, a low-price grocery store, and a big box home improvement store. Once at the facility, she parked and steeled herself to enter. Seeing Nanna in this setting remained difficult but Vivian entered her grandmother’s room. Then, she leaned down and kissed Nanna’s cheek.
“Did you find a new job?” Nanna sat in the room’s power recliner.
Although she could no longer reach the chair without staff assistance, the old woman preferred it. She said it made her almost feel like she was at home. “I heard they’re hiring here, for a social services director.”
Vivian would rather stab herself in both eyeballs with a screwdriver. “Nanna, I don’t really have the skill set for that. Besides, although it would be nice to be where you’re at, I don’t think it would be a good idea. Besides, I’m going to do some freelance work, especially photography.”
“You take lovely pictures,” her grandmother said. “At my house, I had several framed and hung on the wall. I think the one of the roses in bloom is my favorite or maybe the daffodils.”
Those floral photos had been in her first years as a photographer and were more artistic photos than action shots. Years as a photojournalist in the city had changed her focus. “Thank you, Nanna. I plan to visit a few rodeos and shoot action photos there.”
Vivian envisioned a book of gritty action photographs from various rodeos, some in black and white for a vintage look. Besides, she had an affection for all things rodeo and for cowboys.
“Oh, my!” Nanna exclaimed as she patted Vivian’s knee. “That sounds like fun. Maybe you’ll get a cowboy of your own.”
“Maybe,” Vivian said with a smile. Her grandmother had long wanted to see her married and settled but Viv, although not opposed to one day having a husband, wasn’t actively seeking a lifetime partner.
“When are you going to a rodeo?”
“Tonight,” Vivian replied, more than a little reluctant to say. In mid-June, rodeo season was well underway and the one tonight a medium-sized event. Although the rodeo wasn’t quite sixty miles to the rodeo down in Arkansas, Vivian planned to head out the minute she left the nursing home. Sometimes, if Nanna knew she wanted to go somewhere, she did everything possible to extend the visit. Today could not be one of those times.
“Well, then you should leave soon,” Nanna said. “You need to allow plenty of time to get there. I don’t want you speeding, and besides, you might meet a cowboy. I’ll be praying.”
She did her best to hide her disdain. Viv had parted ways with church and religion around the time she turned twenty-one. That had been after her parents had been killed in a home invasion and her fiancé ended their engagement so he could move to California. Vivian couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea God would allow her parents, faithful Christians, to die in such a horrific way. Where, she wondered, had been the angels to protect them? Then, just two months after she’d buried them, Arthur Covington broke up with her. The wedding had been planned for June.
The last day Vivian had sat in a pew or visited a church had been at her parents’ funeral. Her Bible gathered dust before she shoved it into a drawer, then removed it to a box she dragged up to Nanna’s attic. If her life depended on it, she couldn’t find it without a long search.
“All right, Nanna. I’ll be back in a day or so to see you.”
“Drive safe,” the older woman said. “And call me.”
“I will.” Her ride was a classic 1968 sports car, a two-door, hardtop model with the original engine. Painted a fire-engine red, the car could pick up and go. Vivian had a need for speed. Driving fast always helped clear her mind, and she savored the rush of freedom when she hit eighty or more. Although she’d paid a lot to upgrade and restore it, the car had been her grandfather’s back in the day. When she discovered it in the barn behind Nanna’s house at the age of fifteen, she fell in love. Viv had begged and wheedled until Nanna gave her the car, the only possession she would ever have from the grandfather who died long before she was born.
To make good time, Vivian traveled the interstate south part of the way. At Anderson, in the last Missouri county before the state line, she exited the main road, then meandered down two-lane Highway 59 the rest of the way to Siloam Springs. Her car hugged the tight curves as she wound through the hills and held the road, even when she pushed past the speed limit. She rolled into the small town around six p.m. but parking was already at a premium. Vivian found a spot at the rodeo grounds for her classic ride underneath a shade tree in the parking area closest to the stands and hoped the space between it would remain. She slung her camera bandolier-style across her torso and grabbed her bag.
Although she’d worn jeans and a favorite tank top, Vivian wished she had thought about boots. Her sneakers didn’t navigate over the uneven ground well, and by the time she got through the gate, her feet ached. Vivian strolled through the plethora of food stands, surprised at the variety. Some of the delicious food aromas enticed her, but some lacked appeal. She noticed many options were fried-including deep fried Oreos, chicken on a stick, fries, funnel cakes, and some kind of potato on a stick billed as tater twisters. Other options featured hamburgers, hot dogs, chili dogs, nachos, corn in a cup, walking tacos, popcorn, cotton candy, pizza on a stick, and jumbo corn dogs. She could choose a loaded baked potato, a burrito, a large turkey leg, or a barbecued brisket sandwich.
Many hours had passed since her strawberry-banana-oatmeal smoothie at breakfast, so Vivian was hungry. She stepped out of the main walkway to consider her choices. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a chili dog, especially one topped with shredded cheese, and onions. Vivian never noticed the cowboy until he stepped up beside her and spoke.
“I’d order something else if I were you.” His voice resonated voice deep and quiet with some twang. “Those chili dogs bark back.”
Vivian raised her head to him.. He stood at least six feet tall, with a lean body. His curly hair gleamed black as a moonless midnight beneath his cowboy hat and touched his shirt collar. Since he wore jeans, a burgundy paisley Western shirt, well-worn boots with spurs, leather chaps, and a protective vest, Vivian figured he planned to complete. “What do you mean, they bark back?”
He put his right hand over the center of his abdomen. “They’re likely to bring on a bellyache. I didn’t figure a pretty lady like you wanted that.”
“I don’t,” Vivian stated. His dark brown eyes met hers, deep and candid. Beneath the scruff, he turned out to be handsome. “What would you recommend?”
He laughed. “I don’t eat before I ride rough stock. I won’t eat until after the rodeo and probably somewhere in town. If I was going to eat here, I’d probably go for a funnel cake or maybe a turkey leg. I’m Calhoun Kelly, by the way.”
“Vivian Bradburn.” She offered him her hand to shake. “Do you mind if I take your picture while you’re competing? I’m a photographer.”
Calhoun Kelly smiled.
Her heart did a flip flop. His lips were well formed, the bottom one slightly larger than the top.
“I figured that from the camera.” Calhoun chuckled. “I might be a cowboy and I’ve had my share of concussions, but I still have enough of my mind left to see that.”
She laughed, too. If she’d been hoping to meet a good-looking cowboy, then Calhoun Kelly fit the description. “I’d hope to shout,” she responded, with a laugh. “When do you ride?”
“I’m riding bulls tonight. It’s the last event, and I drew next-to-last slot,” he told her. “If you want to shoot pictures, you probably ought to sit on the north end of the arena and a few rows up. If you’re too close, the rail and such will be in the way.”
Without his suggestion, Vivian would have parked herself in the front row. “Thanks, I appreciate the advice. If you ride toward the end of the rodeo, would you share a funnel cake? I don’t think I can eat an entire one myself.”
“As long as you just get powdered sugar on it. I won’t want any of that goopy fruit stuff poured over the top.”
“Just the way I like it, too.” A new friendship was born over their preference and the treat.
Once they had the funnel cake on a paper plate, Calhoun led her into the stands. They shared the hot, sweet confection and talked.
Vivian glanced around the arena, noticing the hard-packed dirt, the abundance of Western wear, and the crowds. She savored the rich flavor of the funnel cake and licked excess sugar from her fingers.
“Is this your first rodeo?” he asked.
“I’ve been to a few but not for years.”
“Then why are you here?” Calhoun lifted one eyebrow and grinned as he shot her the question.
“I like cowboys.” Vivian loved their attire, the way most swaggered, and their bravery in mounting unpredictable animals, risking injury, and death to win. “And I thought it would be a good event to shoot some pictures and see how they turn out. I’m freelancing right now, so if I can sell a few, that’s even better.”
He pinched off a piece of funnel cake, ate it, then licked the sugar from his fingers. “That might work. I take it you ain’t from around here.”
“I was raised in Missouri, not so far away. I was working in the Kansas City area for a few years, but I came back last spring.”
Calhoun whistled loud and long. “That had to be a change.”
“It is. But my grandmother fell and broke her hip, then had to go into a residential living center. She’s all the family I have left, so I’m living in the old farmhouse. I don’t want to be that far away again. Are you from Arkansas?”
“Texas. Down around Rusk and Palestine.”
He pronounced the last “Pal-es-teen,” not the familiar pronunciation that ended in “‘stine.”
“I’m not familiar. What part of Texas is that in?”
“East Texas. It’s pretty country, right in the Piney Woods,” Calhoun said. “There’s not as many pines as I remember growing up, though. I don’t have much family left myself, just my brother, Lincoln, and his family. I don’t see him often in rodeo season. Granny raised all three of us, but she’s been gone for ten years or so.”
“Three of you?”
“We had a younger brother.” His smile faded as he spoke. “Sullivan but he passed away.”
“I’m sorry.” Vivian rested a hand on his, to offer comfort and show sympathy.
“Got stomped by a mean bull at a rodeo.” Calhoun heaved a sigh and rubbed his face. “Couple years back. I was there.”
His simple statement wrenched her heart. Vivian couldn’t imagine losing a sibling and the anguish he must have experienced to watch his brother die.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, with her hand still connected. She rubbed his arm in an effort to offer comfort. “That must have been horrible. And you still ride bulls?”
He turned toward her with his dark brown eyes filled with tears. “It’s something I do and do well. It’s not just for the money, it’s to honor his memory. Besides, I believe if it’s your time, it’s your time.”
“ ‘To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heavens, a time to be born and a time to die.’ ”
He stopped there but she recognized the passage from Ecclesiastes. The same one was read during her parents’ funeral. Her chest tightened at the memory. She preferred not to remember that day. For the first time, she noticed he wore a small wooden cross on a stainless steel chain.
“I sure miss him, though.” His voice dropped low and soft as he spoke.
Vivian could relate. She still thought of her parents often although with emotional pain. At a loss how to express that without seeming to compare losses, she ate another piece of funnel cake.
As the rodeo got underway, the announcers offering details over loudspeakers that resonated through the arena, Vivian noticed the wind had died down as a mounted color guard rode into the arena with both state and United States flags. When a young woman in a red shirt and white hat sang the national anthem, she stood with the rest and noticed Calhoun removed his hat.
When the mutton busting began with little boys clinging to sheep’s backs, she laughed. “Did you ever do that?”
“Sure. It’s how I started out. I need to go around to the chutes before long. If you want to stick around, would you like to go grab a bite to eat afterward?”
Her mind wanted to refuse, but he appealed to her heart. Besides being attractive, Calhoun had a solid quality she couldn’t quite define. He seemed to be both tough and gentle. Vivian realized she wanted to get to know him.
“I’d like that. I’ll be waiting.”
A grin lit his face for a moment. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” He rose and started to go,
Vivian reached out and grasped his hand. “Hey, Calhoun.” She tried out his name on her lips, using it for the first time. “Be careful, okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll do my best, Pretty Lady.”
Calhoun walked away with a stride that had a little bit of swagger.
Preorder links:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCZWNZCQ/
https://wildrosepress.com/product/the-cowboys-last-chance/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-cowboys-last-chance-lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/1146105247
https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-cowboys-last-chance_lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/53633296/
https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Cowboy_s_Last_Chance/H3Hc0AEACAAJ
https://allauthor.com/book/90806/the-cowboys-last-chance/
Will also be available beginning October 21 through Walmart, Target, Books A Million, Indi Bound, Kobo, and I-tunes.
1 comment:
Loved the snippet. Great story.
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