Hunter's Gamble: Hunter Chronicles

By C. Marie Bowen

With no way to track William Lowe's missing family and fiancée, Hunter must call upon spirit magic using his pendulum to divine her location. It's a risk he's never taken, but William's desperate story, and the specter shadowing William, convince him he needs to try.

Taken from her fiance's farm by force, Iris doesn't know who these men are, whether they fought for the North or the South, or how William will find her if he's still alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pixler Publications
• Release date: Dec 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781945215124

C. Marie Bowen

Not your ordinary paranormal romance. Discover nail-biting suspense with award winning author, C. (Connie) Marie Bowen. She weaves her supernatural characters into a collection of tales linked to her first award-winning novel, Passage, the first book in her Soul of the Witch trilogy. Passage won First Place in the Paranormal Romance category in Indiana's Golden Opportunity competition in 2014. In 2015, her novels Passage and Prophecy were nominated for RONE awards in the Time Travel and Paranormal categories, respectively. Aubrielle’s Call released in August 2016. A historical, paranormal romance that takes readers to France in 1939, on the very brink of World War II. Aubrielle’s Call ties to her Soul of the Witch world and her fans love the connection. After the much anticipated release of Paradox, Connie intends to release Amy and Jason’s love story in a Soul of the Witch prequel, Burn. Also look for her immortal, J.L. to appear in an upcoming pirate anthology. Visit her website: CMarieBowen.com to learn more.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Iris Piler

August 1862 – Virginia Panhandle

Iris Piler wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, then slid the wooden clothespin over the corner of the bedsheet to fasten it to the line. The ache in her arms from lifting the wet laundry shot down her spine and into her hips. She wound her dark braid on top of her head and pressed the other hand into her lower back, sighing with relief as the slight breeze cooled the moisture on the nape of her neck.

William Lowe led one of the breeding mares around the house and down the turn from the corral. His denim trousers legs had been tucked into his boots while he mucked the stables. The top three buttons of his shirt were left undone in the August heat and sweat glisten on his chest.

Their gazes met, and his slow smile sent butterflies coursing through her stomach and curled her toes in her shoes.

He tipped his head toward the barn and winked, as he brushed a strand of honey-colored hair from his eyes. His seductive smile changed to a frown of alarm as his head came up and he halted in place.

Iris followed his line of sight.

A dust cloud rose on the east road. Riders.

The porch screen slammed open. Iris, leave that and go inside. Mrs. Lowe crossed the yard to the clothesline. Give me those. She took the pins from Iris's hands, untied the laundry apron and pulled it from Iris, and then fastened it to herself. Hurry, child—hide under the pantry with Maddie.

Iris cast a quick glance at William, but his attention remained fixed on the approaching dust. She picked up her skirt and ran to the porch, through the open door, and into the front parlor. 

Maddie, William's sister, stood on the steps to the refuge beneath the pantry. Iris, hurry.

Iris slowed as she passed the front window, her sight fixed on the gray-uniformed cavalrymen who rode into the yard.

William and Mrs. Lowe greeted the captain, who waved commands to his men. Two horsemen broke from the unit and headed toward the barn while two more riders rounded the side of the house.

The discussion between the captain and William grew heated. William’s face darkened, and he shook his head.

Two men behind the captain dismounted and grasped William by both arms.

Iris’s stomach clenched. Oh, no.

They're at the back door, hurry! Maddie hissed.

Maddie's plea reached Iris just as the butt-end of a rifle slammed into William's forehead. Shaken to her core, Iris raced into the kitchen and down the steps in the pantry. She lowered the hinged floorboards above her head as the back door flew open with a bang.

Chapter 2

Hunter

June 1865 – New Orleans, Louisiana

Hunter glanced at his cards then placed them face down on the table near his chest. Two. He tossed the silver dollars onto the small pile in the middle of the table.

To his left, a gentleman stroked his long black mustache, considered his hand, and then shook his head. Fold.

Only four players sat at the high stakes, five-card draw table tonight. The dealer of the current hand, a white-haired, whiskered gentleman Hunter recognized as a regular patron, sat to Hunter's right.

The dealer turned from the mustached man to the gambler across from Hunter. To you, sir.

The man nodded, and a long wavy strand of honey-colored hair fell across his forehead. He pushed the hair from his face. I'll call. He slid two silver coins toward the pot and looked at Hunter.

Hunter's brow furrowed as he met the gambler's regard.

Why look at me when the play is to the dealer?

I fold, the dealer declared and turned to Hunter. Your show, sir.

Hunter laid his cards face up on the table. Two kings, jack high.

His opponent clenched his jaw and tossed his cards on the table, face down. Your win, sir.

Hunter pulled the pot toward him and collected the cards. Ante up, he reminded the gamblers as he slid a quarter dollar to the center of the table and straightened the cards. He studied the man across from him while he shuffled the deck.

Older than Hunter by several years, and painfully thin, the soft-spoken Southerner had undoubtedly seen action in the recent unpleasantness between the states. The inadequate length of his jacket sleeves said he had purchased the garment secondhand. The worn patches on his cuffs and collar confirmed his thin pocketbook.

What is he doing at the high stakes table? What are they doing here?

Hunter's gaze slid momentarily to the woman who hovered nearby. It wasn't unusual for him to find an apparition aboard a riverboat. However, since New Orleans had escaped the worst of the war,