New Release — The Scarred One by Tyler Boone (Charles Gramlich)

Scarred by a mysterious fire that killed his parents when he was seven, Trenton Banning grew up in a San Francisco orphanage. Ten years later he fled to the freedom of the Rocky Mountains. Now, he’s come to the town of Sun Falls, Wyoming, where a silver strike has triggered a boom. He isn’t after riches, though. He’s there for Jonathan Hunsinger, a ruthless businessman who may know something about the fire that orphaned Banning. 

Hunsinger has a beautiful daughter, Elizabeth. That complicates things for Banning. And after an attempt is made on his life, he realizes that someone is willing to kill to protect Jonathan Hunsinger’s secrets. There are plenty of suspects; Elizabeth is one. Besides trying to stay alive and solve a decade-old mystery, the young mountain man now has to wonder—is Elizabeth the woman of his dreams, or the architect of his nightmares?

EXCERPT

    “Ever seen anything so ugly in your life, Carl?”

    “Hell, Vin. I seen a skinned coon prettier ‘n that. Gotta wonder what his mama looked like.”

The two men standing at the makeshift bar laughed as they eyed the lean and scarred young man in buckskins who sat quietly at a table in the corner of the big tent. There’d been a silver strike at Sun Falls in Wyoming. Miners had poured in—and those who made their living off miners. A few timber structures had been hastily thrown up, but the strike was so recent that most businesses were still operating out of canvas tents, including this saloon.

    “Why don’t you boys have another drink?” the bartender said. “And leave that feller alone. He’s gonna do some huntin’ for me. I figure to start serving meals right soon.”

    The one named Carl turned to look at the speaker. Carl was a big man, inches over six feet and weighing a good two-thirty. The eyes in his stubbled face were dark and cold as anthracite. “Why don’t you just pour the drinks and mind your own business?” he said.

    The bartender, a wiry man of forty or so with a shock of red hair and a dirty white shirt and apron over woolen trousers, was barely half Carl’s size. And since none of the other patrons of the saloon seemed interested in supporting his stance on the issue, he poured whiskeys for the men and decided to mind his own business.
    “Ain’t like we’re hurtin’ the fella none anyway,” the one named Vin said. “Besides, maybe he don’t know he’s too damn ugly for purlite company. We’re educatin’ him.”

    “We couldn’t hurt him no more ‘n a look in the mirror would,” Carl added.

Vin, who was nearly as tall as Carl but much skinnier, had just slugged half his whiskey. He spewed most of it back out onto the dirt floor as he brayed with sudden laughter.

    The young man in the buckskins pushed back his chair and stood.