Hunter Chronicles

By C. Marie Bowen

Hunter's Gamble

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.

 

Hunter and Lily Graham

After collecting the easy bounty in Wichita, Hunter thought his side trip was over—then he saw Lily Graham. Beautiful and desperate, she fell to her knees and begged for his help. A child was missing, and a young life was in danger. Hunter would need to call upon his supernatural skills to find the child, and time was running out. Dealing with Lily would be a different problem altogether.

 

The Kid in Black

Disguised as a man, Nelly Grant tracks down the outlaw who killed her sweetheart. But at night, her imagination reminds her she's still a woman. When she discovers the man who haunts her dreams is a marshal who could thwart her plans, she knows she must choose between vengeance and love.

 

Penelope's Heart

After Nell Grant ran away from Marshall Sam Kline the second time, he let her go. Whatever her reasons, they meant more to her than he did. Angry and hurt, he moved on with his life. Three years later, he and his partner, Hunter, are sent to the tiny town of North Platte, Nebraska, to calm rising tension between the townspeople and the small military fort. To his surprise, he finds the red-haired beauty and a two-year-old replica of himself knee-deep in trouble.

 

Enjoy these short tales from a magical old West connected to The Soul of the Witch series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pixler Publications
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781945215261

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

HUNTER CHRONICLES

1865 – Hunter’s Gamble

1872 – Hunter and Lily Graham

1872 – The Kid in Black

1875 – Penelope’s Heart

––––––––

by C. Marie Bowen

Copyright

Hunter’s Gamble

Hunter and Lily Graham

The Kid in Black

Penelope’s Heart

Copyright © 2015 – 2022 by C. Marie Bowen

All rights reserved.

Published by Pixler Publications

Discover other titles by C. Marie Bowen at www.cmariebowen.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Table of Contents

HUNTER CHRONICLES

Copyright

Table of Contents

1865 - Hunter’s Gamble

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

1872 – Hunter and Lily Graham

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

1872 – The Kid in Black

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Ballad of Denver Dan

~ Note to the reader ~

1875 - Penelope’s Heart

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Also by C. Marie Bowen

About the Author

1865 – Hunter’s Gamble

––––––––

by C. Marie Bowen

Dedication

To my nephew, Chris, and his family.

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, he'd encountered more lost souls in the Deep South than he had close to home.

This spirit presented herself as an older woman, possibly fifty years of age, with wavy coiffed gray hair. She had appeared when the gentleman took a seat at their table.

His mother, perhaps?

Hunter set the shuffled deck before the white-haired man to his right. Your cut. Hunter combined the deck at the cut, burned the top card, and dealt five to each player. My name's Hunter, he stated as he arranged his hand. Two tens, a jack, a seven and an eight—various suits.

Not enough to open. Possible inside straight.

John Beaker, and I'll pass. The man raised one eyebrow and toyed with the tip of his long mustache.

William Lowe. I'll open. Lowe slid a dollar to the center and looked at Hunter, his face impassive, but his eyes bright.

Ezra Umbridge. I'll call. Umbridge slid his silver toward the pot with a glance in Hunter’s direction.

Call. Hunter tossed in his bet.

Call. Beaker followed.

Hunter picked up the deck and looked at Beaker.

Three. Beaker slid three cards toward Hunter.

Hunter dealt three to his left.

Beaker hopes for a third to match a low pair.

Hunter looked at Lowe.

Two, sir.

Hunter dealt two across the table.

Three of a kind or possible straight. Lowe is happy about his hand. Three of a kind, then.

Hunter turned to Umbridge.

Three.

Hunter dealt to Umbridge. And the dealer takes three. He slid the new cards into his hand and moved the third ten beside its mates.

Three tens, a two and a three.

He passed his gaze around the table.

Beaker stroked his mustache.

Lowe straightened in his seat. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

The specter of the woman looked straight at Hunter and their gazes locked. She smiled and tipped her head. He hesitated a moment too long before he glanced at Umbridge.

The man had already laid his cards face down on the table and looked across to Beaker for the bet. Whatever else she might be, the apparition proved a distraction to his game.

Half a dollar. Beaker slid his coin in.

I'll see your half and raise you one. Lowe shoved his bet forward.

Fold. Umbridge sat back and looked at Hunter.

I'll call. Hunter glanced at Lowe and his specter.

Call. Beaker placed his bet and turned to Lowe.

Lowe laid his hand on the table to show. Three aces, ten high. His grin widened as the other three players tossed down their cards.

Your win, Hunter remarked and slid the deck to Beaker.

The next eight hands proved similar. If William Lowe folded, Hunter would often take the hand. If Lowe's eyes gleamed with excitement, the ghost would nod and smile as Hunter called or raised the bet.

Mon Dieu! I collude with Lowe's dead mother to lose my stake to Lowe.

After the last round, Umbridge stood. A short break, gentlemen?

Beaker gathered the cards as Lowe stacked his coins.

Hunter stood and signaled a valet. You'll hold the table?

Yes, sir. The riverboat valet nodded.

Hunter turned and stepped through the nearest door. Outside, the half-moon rode well above the swell of land on the eastern horizon. The humid night filled his senses with the scent of moss and mud. Behind him, a single set of footfalls followed toward the back of the vessel. He turned to the railing, pulled a cheroot from his pocket, and cast a quick glance back. William Lowe stopped at the rail ten feet away, but his specter companion continued to approach.

Madam, Hunter murmured as the spirit strolled past.

Her head inclined, and she smiled into his eyes as she continued to the end of the boat. She fragmented over the paddle wheel and disappeared.

So, Mr. Hunter. I hoped to speak with you privately. William commented as he moved closer, but kept his gaze on the riverbank.

Mr. Lowe. A fine night for you. You've swept the table this evening. Some of Hunter's dark straight hair escaped its binding queue and feathered around his face in the wind. He shoved it aside and faced William. Do you always find such luck at the table?

Heavens, no. I'm a terrible player. William chuckled and lowered his long straight nose toward the water. I have a regrettable poker face.

"That you do, mon ami. Hunter blew smoke from his lungs and chuckled as he dropped his cheroot into the muddy water. Of what did you wish to speak, Mr. Lowe?"

I want to confess, I've sought you out. William leaned his forearms on the damp railing. I received your name and description, along with your probable whereabouts, from my would-be father-in-law. The story is rather lengthy, I'm afraid.

Hunter nodded. Is your inquiry, perhaps, about this man's wife?

William quirked his head at Hunter. His wife? No. This ... inquiry would be on behalf of his daughter, Iris Piler, as well as my sister and mother. They've been missing since before I returned home from prison.

You were in a Northern prison camp?

Yes, toward the end of the war. I was captured during Morgan's raid. He raised his head to look across the water. If you would allow me, I should like to buy you a late dinner and share my tale.

Chapter 3

Hunter

Hunter trailed William back to the card table. Beaker and Umbridge had moved to a low stakes game. Hunter tipped the valet then gathered his winnings. Dining room?

Upstairs, a uniformed maître d’ escorted them to a linen-covered table near the window. They ordered gumbo and coffee and gazed out the window at the darkened delta. The occasional reflection of the moon in the slow water caught Hunter's attention. The vessel had turned about and headed back to New Orleans.

After several minutes of silence, William spoke. Iris's hair is dark, almost black, and so fine you'd think you held a kitten in your hand. Her eyes are a gray-blue, a soft hue, like the mist of an autumn morning.

Have you known her long? Hunter asked after the waiter served their coffee.

Most of my life. Our mothers knew each other, and she was—is—my sister's dear friend. William stared into his coffee cup. I had confessed my love for Iris just recently, although I think she knew how I felt about her for quite some time. She begged me to wait to seek her father's blessing for our union. She said if he knew about our love, he would demand she return home. And then she ... I mean we ... His voice trailed into silence.

Hunter sipped the strong dark brew from a porcelain cup. What happened?

That's just it. I don't know—we don't know.

We?

Iris's family and I. Iris came to our home for an extended visit with my sister just before war broke out. She lives in Pennsylvania, in Pilerton, west of Pittsburgh. Are you familiar with Western Pennsylvania and Northwest Virginia?

Not really.

William shrugged. Iris's family owns the Piler Iron Works and Furnace in Pennsylvania. My sister and I grew up on our family's horse farm, near Holliday's Cove, in the Virginia panhandle—a sliver of Virginia between Pennsylvania and the Ohio River. It's not far between the two homes, but once war broke out, Northern Virginia dissolved into madness.

William paused as the waiter served their gumbo.

Please continue. The scent of the spicy chowder made Hunter's mouth water, and he lifted his spoon and inhaled deeply in appreciation.

Across the table, the female specter materialized in the seat beside her son. Her attention focused on William; tears stained her cheeks.

The counties of Northwest Virginia separated from the rest of the state after Virginia's secession. The area was in an uproar. Most of our neighbors’ sentiment lay with the North, but there were a few families who leaned toward the Confederacy. We thought ourselves safe behind McClellan's troops, but we were wrong. Even after General Lee left the area, we suffered raids.

"Your