So I’m going to try something new, and we’ll see how this goes: every Tuesday I’ll take a small chunk of something I’m working on – fantasy, mystery, mainstream, whatever… and post it. Â No titles, no other info, utterly random.
Y’all can give feedback or not, as you wish. Â Or even try to guess what it’s from, if you’re so inclined. Â There may or may not be a prize for getting it right.
There will be no prizes for nitpicking typos: all teases are from works in progress, which means typos are a natural side-effect of production.
He didn’t offer to help her fix the saddlebag over Uvnee’s back, nor offer her a boost into the stirrup, just swung into his own saddle and gathered the reins, waiting until she was ready.Â She was familiar with riding astride: the boss didn’t hold with sidesaddle, said it was a good way to get a broken neck, but Uvnee was broader than she was accustomed to.Â Fortunately, the saddle was well-made, and it took her only a minute to find her balance.
“We’ll stop in a bit, and adjust, once you’re used to her,” Matthew said.Â “Got any farewells you need to say?”
Isobel looked over her shoulder at the saloon, the shuttered windows, and then turned to look up at the sky, the faint streak of dawn starting to cross the mountains, the first hint of brimstone and hot iron coming from the blacksmith’s.Â She shook her head, letting the leather of the reins slide between her fingers until she was comfortable, feeling Uvnee shift underneath her, anxious to be moving.
“No,” she said softly.Â “No, I’m done.”