FREE CHAPTER! A Bones in Blackbird preview…

As Bones in Blackbird nears publication … GASP!

Yes, that’s right, it’s almost that time again. Bones in Blackbird, the third book in my weird western (or something) series The Legacy of Lucky Logan, is about thiiiiiiiissss close >—–< to being ready to publish!

And I say that like Bastard of Blessing (book 2) came out just yesterday or something.

But it didn’t. Bastard of Blessing came out ALMOST A YEAR AGO NOW and that is not how I wanted this year to go at all.

But it’s all right. Bones was a MONSTER book (144,000 words, people!), and between my poor dear beta readers having crazy lives at the moment and my cover artist experiencing some delays, well, it’s just taken me a whole lot longer to get this thing ready to go than I would have preferred.

All that being said, though, it is, finally, FINALLY just about ready to be kicked out the door! Which is really exciting for me, because it’s hard to keep track of which book is which when you’re sort of working on two at a time, and I’ve already started work on book 4 (title to be announced later). Eep!

Not only that, but I’ll be hitting book 4 in earnest for NaNoWriMo, so yeah, it’s time for Bones to move on out!

All that’s left to do now is perform one more brush-up of the manuscript, checking for all of my very favorite words, and to sprinkle in a bit more depth here and there in choice scenes. Then it’s off to my formatter and my typographer to get the paperback cover finalized, and then… IT’S TIME.

In honor of this long-awaited moment swiftly approaching, I thought I’d share with you the entirety of Chapter 1! 😀 Give it a read below (it features one of my own very favorite western scenarios), and! If you can be the FIRST to correctly identify one or both of the “Easter eggs” referenced/paid homage to in this chapter, you WIN your pick of a free book 1 ebook, paperback, or audiobook (if you haven’t started this series yet) OR, if you are already a loyal Lucky Logan reader, you’ll WIN a free copy of the book 3 ebook, paperback, or audiobook!

So read on, give your best guess in the comments (or email me at jrfrontera@gmail.com), and I do hope you enjoy!

---

I: HANG ‘EM HIGH

Bones in Blackbird, The Legacy of Lucky Logan, Book 3

@copyright 2021 by Jennifer Frontera

---

I couldn’t see shit wearin’ this bonnet.

Made me wonder how the women-folk put up with ‘em.

I kept my eyes on the ground, mostly, bent over and holdin’ a walkin’ stick in my right hand. Partly to complete my disguise, and partly to help balance myself after standin’ here fer hours. The crowd had arrived bit by bit over the course of the mornin’, but I’d been one of the first ones here. Been here since dawn. Watched the sun come up over the town square … over the gallows. Watched the shadows of those nooses stretch out long across the ground, and then slowly shorten as the day wore on.

The cotton dress I’d donned over my usual clothes was startin’ to get awful hot, but there weren’t nothin’ I could do about that.

The hangin’ was set fer noon. And noon was comin’ up awful fast now.

The crowd had swelled, all right. Fillin’ in around and behind me, men and women and children, and vendors sellin’ cakes and rock candy and jerky, and tinctures and whiskey, too.

I ignored ‘em, all of ‘em, the spectators and the vendors both. Ran over this plan of mine again and again in my mind, tryin’ not to calculate too awful much the odds of gettin’ killed in this venture.

I couldn’t afford to get myself killed. Not when I still had to get Ethelyn from Nan. But neither could I have stayed rottin’ away in that jail cell back in Bravebank while Holt got hanged. The man was an insufferable, selfish bastard … but damn it all, he’d saved my neck too many times to count in the last eight years.

At least I owed him this. At least I owed him a try.

Sweat slipped down my face and I swiped at it with the back of my left hand, then brushed that hand against my hip, feelin’ at the outline of my pistol beneath the skirt of the floral-patterned dress. I’d cut a slit in the fabric there along both holsters, so they could be covered up fer the most part, but still within easy reach fer when I needed ‘em quick.

I’d never pulled a job dressed like a woman before, but it’d seemed the only way I was gonna have a chance of gettin’ anywhere near this place without bein’ recognized or lookin’ suspicious. And so far, it was workin’.

Except fer this damned bonnet completely cuttin’ off my peripheral vision. It hid my face, sure enough, but the narrowed field of view made me nervous, too.

I took a slow breath in and let it out just as slow. Glanced up to look through the gallows scaffolding, across the square, to where I’d tied my mule Joe and the skinny old mare Seven Knives Sally had gifted me. I’d only barely managed to get Joe back from that livery in Sonoita in time to make it here before the hangin’, and as luck would have it, I’d found Holt’s horse in the Destry livery last night.

The hostler here was a downright drunk, so it’d been easy enough to sneak the horse out, but I didn’t exactly want him tied in the middle of town now considerin’ the law had been notified of the missin’ animal and tack this mornin’.

So I’d left him outside town a ways, along our planned escape route.

If this plan of mine didn’t end with both of us dead, I imagined Holt would be mighty sore about havin’ to ride that old mare outta here, but then, she’d be carryin’ him to freedom, so surely he’d get over it.

I checked my line of sight to my distractions next, tryin’ to only minimally turn my head so as to not reveal my very unladylike features to the folk pressin’ in close on either side. Didn’t want anyone realizin’ I weren’t no old lady till I was good and ready fer ‘em to realize such a thing.

But they were still there, my distractions, three small bundles of dynamite I’d planted in the wee hours of the mornin’, wedged up along the rooftops of some of the surroundin’ buildings. One above a dentist, one above the bank, one above the post office. Two to my right and one to my left. Fairly easy shots from my vantage point here at the front of the crowd, but I’d have to be fast.

And not miss.

I took another slow breath in attempts to quiet my hummin’ nerves.

Too much feelin’ threw off yer aim, and I was feelin’ an awful lot right now…

A commotion rose up among the crowd to my left, where the jailhouse sat along that side of the square, and I glanced that way to see the lawdogs leadin’ Holt out.

My hand tightened around the top of the walkin’ stick and I sucked in a breath.

He looked as grumpy as ever, hands bound together in front of him, a decent-sized gash along his left temple still bruised and swollen. He was held by a deputy on either side, and had another man in front and behind him.

The crowd parted to allow ‘em through to the gallows stairs, but booed and hissed as Holt passed, some shoutin’ out that he was a murderer and a monster. A few flung pieces of rotten produce at him, fruit and vegetables that hit him in the chest with a wet smack, splattering a mess everywhere.

I shifted on my feet and clenched my jaw, eyein’ my distractions again, memorizin’ their locations. Then looked back to Holt to see him spittin’ and yellin’ insults at the townsfolk, which only earned him more rotten food and vehement invitations to go to Hell.

The sheriff and his deputies tried to settle the crowd some as they took Holt up the stairs, put him over the trap door, and settled the noose around his neck. And then they stepped back, positionin’ themselves at the four corners of the stage. They didn’t have their guns drawn, but they looked alert, all right.

It was generally known around these parts that Holt Haggerty didn’t run with no gang, so they weren’t likely expectin’ a whole heap of trouble from any outsiders tryin’ to save his neck. But it was also generally known that Holt Haggerty did often run with at least one other unsavory outlaw.

 Me.

They were almost certainly expectin’ me, and lookin’ out fer me, too.

I tried to keep my head angled away from ‘em, so all they’d see was a pretty floral bonnet and not my face while I ran more calculations in my head.

Four of ‘em, the noose rope, my three distractions. I was gonna need both pistols. And every shot had to count.

Another man ascended the gallows stairs now. He was dressed in a rather nice suit and held a rolled up piece of paper in his hand. He motioned for the crowd to quiet, and to my surprise, they did. He stepped to the edge of the gallows platform and I dropped my gaze back quick to the dusty ground so he wouldn’t notice my features as he scanned the masses spread out before him.

“Good people of Destry,” he yelled out, “and all those gathered here from elsewhere in the Territories as witness! Today we will have, at last, the ending of a criminal outlaw who has terrorized our towns for far too long!”

The people cheered. Whooped and hollered.

He motioned them quiet again. “As mayor of this fine town of Destry, I must commend our Sheriff Bell and his deputies, who apprehended this criminal before he could make off with much of our hard-earned money.”

More cheerin’ and shoutin’ from the crowd.

Holt scowled and grumbled somethin’, but it was lost beneath all the ruckus.

The mayor waited till the noise died down some, then continued, “It will be my pleasure to oversee this execution, and I beg all of you here today to remember: crime does not pay.”

It was my turn to scowl and grumble then, and I shifted again on my feet, my metal leg whirrin’ softly beneath the skirts. Maybe crime didn’t pay … but it had kept me fed fer plenty of years now. Fed, and sometimes warm and comfortable, too.

“Now…” the mayor said. He unfurled the rolled paper. “Holt Haggerty, for the crimes of capital murder, assault, robbery, arson…”

Well, that list was gettin’ awful long. I wondered if my list were that long these days. Probably.

“… theft, kidnapping…”

Kidnapping? I didn’t remember that one. But then, Holt had been an outlaw fer a long time. Certainly longer than just the eight years I’d been runnin’ with him.

“… forgery, impersonating an officer of the law…”

All right, I did remember that one…

“… selling stolen goods, horse theft, and cattle rustling, I do hereby sentence you to hang by the neck until dead.” The mayor gave a little nod of finality and curled up that paper, and another wave of murmurs and excited chatter circled through the gathered crowd.

The mayor squinted upward, to the stretch of blue above. Weren’t a cloud in the sky. The merciless sun glared down at us full-bore, directly overhead.

High noon.

Time fer the hangin’. Time fer Holt Haggerty to die.

He looked back to Holt then, a rather smug look of satisfaction crossin’ his pinched and sweaty features. “Well?” he asked. “Any last words?”

I risked a glance to Holt myself, lookin’ up at him standin’ on that gallows stage from beneath the shade of my bonnet, and I slipped my left hand through the cut in the skirt on my left hip to curl my fingers loose around my gun grip. The three middle fingers of that hand still had bandages around their ends where Charles Miller had pulled off the fingernails not so long ago. And they were still sore, too. But I’d been practicin’ drawin’ and shootin’ with those sore fingers since I’d escaped the Bravebank jail, till I was comfortable enough with ‘em that I could rely on ‘em today.

I eased my right hand downward now itself, along the length of the walkin’ stick, closer to my right holster.

My heart beat in my throat. Sweat slid down my temples to run down my neck.

Holt glared out at the crowd pressed in on all sides and they hushed as he opened his mouth. “Yeah,” he grunted. But then his clear blue gaze found mine, and he paused. Surprise went over his creased, grimy features, then a cautious hope, but he looked away again quick before any of those lawdogs could take an interest in what he might have seen. His face went hard and angry again, and he focused his glare on Destry’s mayor. “Yeah,” he said again, one corner of his mouth quirkin’ into a smirk. “The best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain, fer promised joy.”

I rolled my eyes, cursin’ him silently, hopin’ his bein’ cute wouldn’t tip off those four armed men up there.

But the mayor only seemed perplexed, then shook his head. “Quoting literature will not gain you any sympathy here, Haggerty. Saying pretty words does not make you a civilized man.”

Holt snorted in amusement. “You would know about that personally, wouldn’tcha, Mayor?”

The gathered masses booed at that comment, and shouts to get on with the hangin’ already rang through the square.

The mayor agreed with ‘em, ‘cause he drew himself up straighter at Holt’s insult and gestured to the sheriff. The sheriff nodded, pulled the black hood from where he’d had it tucked into his belt, and shook it out as he went to Holt’s side.

“Goodbye, Haggerty,” he said, and put the hood over Holt’s head before Holt could snap anything in return. “And good riddance.”

The mayor stepped over to the lever. All he had to do was pull it, and that trap door would swing open under Holt’s feet, and he’d take a long drop on a short rope, his neck snappin’ like a twig.

Unless I didn’t miss.

I took in another slow, deep breath of the hot afternoon. Another trickle of sweat slipped down my face, but I didn’t dare wipe it away. Not now. Not this close.

The mayor rested his hand atop the lever and affected a solemn expression. The masses around me went deathly quiet, their anticipation thick as mine, but fer entirely different reasons.

Someone across the square coughed, and a baby started cryin’.

A light breeze stirred, coolin’ the sweat on my brow and shiftin’ my floral skirts around my ankles.

“May God and the Holy Mother alike have mercy on your soul,” the mayor said.

He pulled the lever.

---

If you loved that chapter and would like to read more, but didn’t win a free copy, no worries! You can find the whole series so far right HERE!

I’m really, really hoping Bones and Blackbird will be live before the end of October… cross your fingers for me! 😉

More sneak peeks to come, too, (and more chances to win stuff) so stay tuned!