Smith's Monthly #54: Smith's Monthly, #54

By WMG Publishing

This 54th issue of Smith's Monthly contains more than seventy thousand words of original fiction from USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith. Including The Taft Ranch, the full novel from Dean's Thunder Mountain time-travel series, and four new short stories from some of his most popular series; Marble Grant, Bryant Street, Pakhet Jones, and the Sky Tate.

Also in this issue is Stories from July, part 6, the final instalment from Dean's groundbreaking project for which he wrote a short story (or two) a day for one month, blogged about it, and designed a cover for each one.

Now, sit back and enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Oct 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201276768

Book preview

Smith’s Monthly #54

Smith’s Monthly #54

Dean Wesley Smith

WMG Publishing, Inc.

Contents

Introduction

A Brush With Intent

Introduction

A Brush With Intent

Models Four

Introduction

Models Four

Stories from July

Foreword

I. Day Twenty-Six

To Remember a Single Minute

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

II. Day Twenty-Seven

The Case of the Lost Treasure

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

III. Day Twenty-Eight

A Study of an Accident

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

IV. Day Twenty-Nine

The Lady of Whispering Valley

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

V. Day Thirty

The Rude Improbable Presumptive

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

VI. Day Thirty-One

Start with a Coffin

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Cat Caught in the Art

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Patty Bluff

Introduction

Patty Bluff

The Taft Ranch

Introduction

I. Missing

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

II. The Search

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

III. Trail of Death

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

IV. Decisions

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

V. Impossible Choices

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

VI. A Homecoming

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Introduction

STILL SETTING THINGS UP

---

Green Valley, the newest novel in the Thunder Mountain series will be in the next volume. It adds to and changes the base world of the Thunder Mountain series in some ways. Some fun and exciting ways.

And it might take two or three books to make the complete change. Green Valley will just be the first.

Green Valley actually continues The Taft Ranch novel a number of years later, so to get a real sense of Green Valley, it would be better to read The Taft Ranch. So I put it here.

So last issue, I put Thunder Mountain which explains the entire series and sets it up. The Taft Ranch leads into Green Valley and the books beyond it. That series will start next issue.

In The Taft Ranch novel, two characters discover that the world is wiped out in the year 2600, or at least all humans, animals, and some bugs are killed with a burst of electromagnetic energy from space. They called it The Event. That was just a plot element and you know at the end of The Taft Ranch those at the Institute are going to try to fix that.

And that’s where I left off. Sort of a major I’ll get to that.

In Green Valley, The Event again is a major plot element, a reason for something in the book, and a reason for the two characters to continue on.

Normally I don’t reference back much in Thunder Mountain books, but in Green Valley I needed to, so there is some history, or better put, future history that needed to be set up. And thus since it had been so many years since Thunder Mountain and The Taft Ranch were published, I figured I would be fine bringing them back to set up this new major series of books.

Great fun going back to the Thunder Mountain universe. It had been a year or more since I wrote the Hot Springs Meadow short novel. But now I plan on returning to this series numbers of times. Starting with Green Valley next issue and continuing on until the entire plot thread is resolved. Lots to write about, more to explore, more characters to meet.

So I hope you enjoy The Taft Ranch. And if you read it once years ago, my suggestion is read it again so it is fresh for Green Valley next month.

---

—Dean Wesley Smith

October, 2021

Introduction

On Bryant Street, really strange things happen. Usually they exist with a fantasy twist or a Twilight Zone feel.

But every so often other things happen. Normal things.

Things that real world people deal with in a place, in a neighborhood, they really love.

A Brush With Intent

A Bryant Street Story

JD Steinhauer sat at his wooden dining room table, classic rock songs from his distant youth playing softly on the radio. Around him the familiar kitchen with drawings from the grandkids on the fridge, the tan blinds over the windows, and the photos of family and old friends, many now gone, filling the wall behind him.

Em, his wonderful and still beautiful wife of fifty-seven years, sat in her chair in the living room facing the television. It was on, but the sound was turned down. Em didn’t care.

Her gray hair was pulled back and tied like she liked it, her blouse today was blue to go along with blue slacks and her blue slippers. She had always liked to dress in similar colors each day.

But now Em didn’t much care about anything and he dressed her each morning since her mind had slowly vanished. She no longer recognized him or their two kids or the three grandkids.

Luckily, if there was such a thing in these circumstances, she could be easily directed and never really complained. So every morning he walked her carefully through her morning routine, keeping it exactly the same as she used to do when she did it herself.

He helped her get dressed, always asking her opinion on one bit of clothing or another, even though she never responded. He helped her eat, then he took her to her chair and turned on the television.

Except for occasional bathroom breaks and lunch and dinner, that was how she spent her days.

And he spent his days hovering nearby, making sure she was all right and getting her anything she needed. He never left the house anymore and did nothing at all for himself. He didn’t really mind. They knew that going into old age would be rough if they survived. And they both had.

Sort of.

He just hated to see her end up this way.

She had always had a vibrant way about her, a smile that lit up any room, and an energy that never seemed to stop. For decades she would often get up ahead of him and stay up long after he went to bed.

She had worked as a teacher for forty years, seeming to love every minute of it. She volunteered in local charities, and raised their kids, all without a complaint. She had been, and she still was an amazing woman.

He always wondered how he had gotten so lucky to have her love him.

Now he would take care of her until his old body wouldn’t let him anymore. Then they would move together into a nice place he and Danny, his son, had found. There JD could get help with Em.

They had the place reserved and waiting for JD to call Danny and they would just move. It could be done on an hour’s notice. Danny had already taken over clothes and bathroom items for both of them.

JD was afraid that today might be that time. He had let Em slip in the shower this morning, but caught her before she fell, wrenching his own back in the process.

That was only a dull throb now, but he had a hunch tomorrow morning would be a problem for him. His back had never been that good to start with and when he wrenched it, he often couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

He looked around the small dining area and then into the living room at Em. They would eventually need to sell their home here on Bryant Street to afford the small apartment they were moving into in the full-care facility. But not right away. Maybe in a year or two.

Assuming they both lived that long. If not, Danny would sell it. It was going to him and his sister anyway.

Em was sitting, staring at the television. She seldom moved, her perfect profile still holding her back straight and her chin up.

He stood, his back twitching from the new injury, and moved over to her.

Sweetie, I think it’s time we go to our new place.

He had told her many times about how good it was. He doubted she had heard him.

He touched her shoulder, knowing she really didn’t understand him this time either.

But to his surprise, she turned and looked up at him and for a moment the old Em was in her deep brown eyes. Do what you need to do for us, she said. You know I hate being this way and not being able to help.

I know, he said, kneeling down beside her so he could look directly into her eyes.

I’m not going to get any better, she said. I love this house, but I am not going to get any better. Do what you need to do for both of us.

I know that as well. And I will. I will always love you and be beside you.

She nodded slightly and then the light and life seemed to just drain away from her eyes and she turned back to stare at the silent television.

That was the first episode in weeks where she had been in her mind. He treasured every one of them.

He made sure she was comfortable, then moved slowly back over to the table and eased his old, aching body into a chair.

She really had loved this home, even more than he had. He loved the neighborhood, the ease of moving around, and how much love the two of them had shared in these walls over the three-plus decades here.

They had raised their kids here.

All the good times with Em had been in this house.

He looked over at her and smiled.

Maybe he could make it another day here.

Just one more day.

Introduction

Marble Grant works as a Ghost Agent. She and her partner Sims crawl into people’s minds and get into all their hidden secrets and fears and desires.

And sometimes they find crimes about to happen. Way past the planning stages.

Stopping the crime gets complicated. Even classic old-style crimes.

Models Four

A Marble Grant Story

The woman looked like she could be a top model or a movie star, or someone famous. And she dressed like she had a ton of money. Silk blouse and slacks that matched perfectly, diamond earrings, expensive-as-hell bag and shoes. She wore just the right amount of make-up for the afternoon and her brown hair was styled perfectly.

She was the entire package and clearly by her walk she knew it. If she could stride above the crowd of peons, I was sure she would.

I had gotten used to seeing the type in Las Vegas. There seemed to be almost as many of them as limos. And half of them were escort girls. The other half were from Hollywood.

Sims, my beautiful partner and lover, and I were working Fremont Street early in the afternoon on a beautiful fall day, strolling along through the tourists, brushing through some to see if we could spot anyone who needed our help. We were ghost agents who both had been superheroes before we died. I was enjoying being dead a ton more than being alive. And I had helped a lot more people in one year of being a ghost than I had in over a hundred years of being a superhero.

So far this afternoon, all we had found was the standard stuff that people dealt with like money, divorce, weight, and nagging health issues. Not much two ghost women like us could do for them.

And now, here comes a woman so attractive, so interesting, I flat didn’t know what to think. But I had a hunch she wasn’t working as an escort. Not sure why I felt that, just did.

The woman was coming at us with an intent look on her face, like she had a schedule to meet. More than likely late for drinks with a prince or a senator or someone like that.

Take a look at miss perfect coming at us, I said to Sims.

Been watching her, Sims said, laughing. Dying of curiosity what she’s up to.

Be my guest, I said. Just don’t let the snootiness rub off.

Sims laughed and at that point the woman was almost to us, so Sims turned, took a step to match the woman’s pace and vanished inside of her.

That’s how we ghosts learned about people’s problems. We went inside of them and could read their thoughts and everything. And we could adjust their behavior at times as well.

A moment later Sims stopped, letting the woman walk on. But the look on Sims’ face instantly worried me.

She kill someone? I asked.

Sims shook head. Her name is Cindy and her and three other women, all models like her, are about to rob a casino.

You mean like Oceans’ Eleven, the movie? I asked, shocked. Robbing casinos was just about as dumb an idea as there was. It never worked out well. Casinos had more security per square inch than most buildings did on an entire floor.

More like Models Four, Sims said, staring after Cindy as we walked, staying close to her.

Well this I have to watch, I said, laughing, as Sims and I followed Cindy. And, of course, we would stop it as well. But just watching them get set up would be something.

You think they will succeed? I asked Sims as we got a little closer to Cindy. Her butt was sure putting on a show under those silk pants, a show I must admit I didn’t mind watching. A girl can fantasize, can’t she?

They already have been succeeding, Sims said. That’s how she can afford those slacks and blouse and purse. They already robbed one casino. Today will be their second. And by the way, she is wearing no underwear.

Now that was a shocker, not the lack of underwear, but the fact they had already robbed a casino.

Sims indicated I should jump inside Cindy and see what she and her team were doing, so I did.

Cindy was a lower-level model in California, not really getting any attraction. She lived with three other models in a large condo they rented. They were often all broke, so Cindy was far from rich. But she could play the part, which was what she was doing perfectly in the silk outfit and expensive purse. She had borrowed it all from a shoot with the promise it would be returned tomorrow.

It wouldn’t be if they got caught.

What they did was a classic trick that all casinos knew about, but had a really hard time stopping when it was done right. And Cindy knew that. Especially when she looked rich.

Cindy would go into a casino, get four thousand in chips, mostly $5 and $25 chips. She would dump them all into her expensive purse and smile and hand the racks back to the cashier.

That would alert the security to watch her like a hawk. She knew that. She had learned that from an ex-boyfriend who liked sports books and ended up dying of an overdose of heroin.

Now Cindy was also a pretty fine blackjack player. Not a counter, but good enough to hold her own for the most part. Again her dead boyfriend had taught her. And her three friends were the same in skill at the table, but not dressed like they had money.

They looked like they were riding along with their rich friend for the afternoon.

A perfect scene the models were setting.

They would all meet on a blackjack table and have a lot of fun, drinking, attracting men and women both to their looks and how much fun they were having.

They would do a lot of flirting with the dealers and the pit bosses as well, men or women.

And all the while Cindy was grabbing handfuls of chips out of her purse and giving them to her friends in piles like they were pills.

Then they all would dump all the chips back in Cindy’s purse and go have lunch, play more, then go have an early dinner, then play more.

Almost impossible for the best security to count all the chips in all the handfuls and piles going in and out of that purse over hundreds of hands of cards played.

So when it was all over, each of the women took from 400 to 800 of their winnings and cashed out and Cindy went back to the same cashier’s window and dug out all the chips in her purse and cashed them out. Turns out there was a thousand or so more in there than the original four thousand.

She was a good player, but that wasn’t how they were robbing the casino. They had started with about two thousand top-level counterfeit casino chips and they had washed them through the tables they played, exchanging every bad chip for good ones hand-by-hand.

I stopped and let Cindy go on as I rejoined Sims following behind the show going on in Cindy’s silk slacks.

Got any idea what we should do? Sims asked, smiling at me.

Not a clue, I said. They are going to get caught at some point and it won’t be pretty.

I wasn’t excited about turning them in or helping in their capture. But I knew we would if we had to. But then they would have records and messed up lives for this kind of stupidity.

How about we stop them before they get caught? Sims asked.

And how do you suggest we do that? I asked, smiling at my beautiful lover.

Let’s keep her out of casinos, Sims said. There are people who fear casinos you know.

I laughed. We stop her, then get her friends.

Sims laughed and we quickly caught up with Cindy and both went inside. She was about to go into the Four Queens, so Sims put images of crawling snakes around the door of the casino since Cindy had been afraid of snakes her entire life.

Damn that was good thinking.

Poor Cindy screamed like she was playing the part of a ten-year-old child and jumped back, hitting a large man and knocking the beer out of his hand. Luckily, none of it got on Cindy’s expensive outfit. She was going to have to give that outfit and purse back and if we stopped her, she wouldn’t have the money for cleaning it.

I’m going to plant that snake idea a lot deeper, I said to Sims.

I went into Cindy’s beliefs where Jewel, the ghost agent who had taught us, had showed us what to do to plant a suggestion or memory or idea.

There I made Cindy believe that there would be snakes waiting to bite her inside any casino she ever went into. No exceptions.

And I made the fear deep, so that even years of counseling wouldn’t clean it out.

Then Sims planted the suggestion that Cindy should dump the bad chips she was carrying into a dumpster down a side street and go back to her hotel room to meet the other girls. She had bought $2,000 of those chips for $200 in Hollywood and had borrowed the four grand she used to buy-in from a rich friend who wanted to get her in the sack. She needed to pay that back as well.

We stayed with her until she dumped the bad chips. And made sure no one saw her do it either.

Then we headed into the Four Queens casino to find her friends.

I didn’t much care for the old-style casinos. The place smelled of smoke and had the old-fashioned low ceilings and no room between slots. Everything seemed more intense and desperate. Not fun in these old places like the new ones felt.

Her three friends were all sitting at a blackjack table playing five-dollar chips. They were laughing and just waiting for Cindy.

How about, I said, we plant the suggestion that when they go into any casino, they think every man is leering at them and might be dangerous.

Oh, I love it, Sims said. But outside casinos, men are normal men.

I nodded. We don’t need to plant that very deep. Just enough to end this craziness they are doing.

Three minutes later all three were cashing out and almost holding hands and in a tight group, leaving the casino as fast as they could. One poor guy at the door as they went out accidently bumped into them and all three of them screamed and ran.

Sims and I watched them go, laughing.

Being afraid of men in casinos was a ton better than them spending years in jail for grand larceny. I was amazed they had gotten away with it once before. I doubted it would have happened again.

So what crime to we solve next? Sims asked.

I took her head. "How about we figure out what