I am deep into my new novel, Posse Justice. This one has been around a few years and I'm polishing it up and hoping to finish it in a month or two if all goes right. Here's a little excerpt from Chapter 7:
Three days went by and we still hadn't caught any of them. We tracked them back to the road to Denver to an old abandoned shack sitting against the ridge to the north where the old Blue Mountain Road heads off to the northwest. They had already moved on.
"Look at this, Boss, tracks heading up this old road."
Custard was bending over holding his horse's reins in one hand and pointing at the tracks in the soil.
"See, they milled around here and went that way," he said, standing straight and pointing up the old road.
"Why are they goin' that way?" I asked, thinking out loud. "That's the way back to town up around this ridge and we're some thirty or forty miles into Colorado."
"Maybe to meet those others that stole Miss Thompson," said the Ute, looking bored.
"And maybe to get some money would be my bet. Those others must have the money," I said, watching the Ute. "They'll lead us right to it and we can free the Thompson girl, too. Come on."
We started up the road following the tracks.
Another day of riding took us to the narrow end of Stuntz Ridge barely into Utah Territory again. The weather turned bad before we reached the ridge. Clouds moved in and cluttered up the sky. I could feel it getting colder.
Late in the day, the snow began falling, being blown around by a stiff wind, and the ridge kept disappearing and re-appearing in my vision.
"We better make camp while we can still see," I told Custard.
"Over there, Boss, next to the cliff out of the wind," Custard pointed, although I could barely see him through the blinding snow.
I followed him to a site under the cliffs where the wind was less of a bother and there was grass for the horses. Dismounting, I untied my bedroll, throwing it in a level spot between two boulders with the snow coming down heavy. I was glad I brought my heavy coat. I loosened the strap and pulled the saddle off Sugar, letting it drop next to my bedroll. I led the horse into a clump of cedar trees and took off the bridle, knowing he wouldn't wander far in this weather with enough bunch grass around to chew on. The Indian's horse was already there.
"We wandered off the trail, Boss," said the Ute when I returned to my bedroll. He was peeking over a large boulder, trying to locate me in the obscurity of the falling snow. "We are under Martha's Peak."
"That's good. From this elevation we can see down along the ridge when it clears up and maybe see the outlaws before they see us," I said, rolling out my bedding and arranging the tarp. I sat down, pulled the tarp over my head and leaned back against the rock. A wild goose chase. It's turning into a wild goose chase, and only the Indian and me to take 'em on if and when we catch up with 'em. Not very good odds. I ruminated on the problem, turning it over and over in my mind until I fell sound asleep still in the same position.