Saturday, May 27, 2017

Doc Jacobi comes in contact with swindlers who have stolen a prize Stallion. GARRISON CREEK BY HENRY P. GRAVELLE

Title: Garrison Creek
         Doc Jacobi Western Book Two
ISBN: 978-1-62420-170-7
Author: Henry P. Gravelle

Genre: Western
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2


Doc Jacobi comes in contact with swindlers who have stolen a prize Stallion.


In the second of the Doc Jacobi series, his visit to the town of Garrison Creek brings the Doc and his trusty Appaloosa Bell in contact with a man and woman; swindlers who have stolen a prize Stallion.


"I've been feeling strange, Doc. Sometimes I wanna dance, sometimes I wanna puke," Carrie Monroe said, her brown eyes nervously wide.
She sat straight back, chin out and spoke clearly, yet a tinge of the unknown rattled her tone. Her fingers tapped against one another as though contemplating bad news of her ailment.
"Tired a lot with headaches?" I asked.
She nodded yes.
"Soreness in your breast?" I wondered.
Embarrassingly, she nodded yes again.
"How long you felt this way?" I asked, going to the washbasin atop the side table.
"I dunno," she lowered her head, "little while now."
"You're what, eighteen, nineteen?" I said.
"Sixteen," she raised her head quickly with an expression of horror at my error. She stood, covered her short auburn hair with a ragged felt hat, and went to the door of my office.
As I rinsed my hands, I studied her general appearance remembering her as a tot, delivering her brother, Bob, a few years earlier. Generally, I went by appearances rather than time when it came to age, so I had to look her over again. The tan shirt and dark trousers of a ranch hand covered her petite form 'nough that I could've taken her for Bob.
"Sorry," I grinned.
"Not your fault, doc," she sighed, "Poppa got us working day and night, kinda takes a toll on appearances."
"That it does, but you're gonna have 'ta speak with your poppa. I can't have you doing man's work for long."
She stood defiantly, "I can do anything a man ca—"
"You're pregnant," I interrupted, with a smile.
Carrie made her way back to the chair and sat, the big browns ogling the floor, "You sure…?"
"I may be just an old war surgeon," I said drying my hands on a towel, "but I still know plenty 'bout human biology."
"How?" she whispered.
"You're a young'n but I reckon you already know'd how. Got a last name for the child?"
Carrie's eyes welled. A tear fell across her cheeks. "Not sure, he's been scared away by—"
"Your poppa," I filled in her sentence.

She nodded.

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