There is less than two weeks to go before the release of A Road Paved in Copper! I thought I’d share one last teaser with you all before the big day!
Don’t forget to RSVP and join me for the online release party on FACEBOOK. I’ve got the whole day outlined with food, fun, games, and of course, free stuff! Up for grabs is two $15 gift cards to Amazon, plus a slew of free books and other gift cards. I hope to see you all there!!
Rhythmic clinks from my silver spurs rattled with each step. With straps hitched around the heels of my boots, the silver and gold rowels spun from my movement, their spiked tips sharp enough to cut the hide of any animal.
Or the skin of any man.
For nearly five years, since 1899, I’d strolled down the dirt roads of Tonopah, Nevada. In that time, I’d watched the dusty little town spread through the sagebrush, growing from just a few tiny wooden buildings made from scrap and splintered leftover wood to dozens and dozens of grand brick dwellings three and four stories tall—all built with the greed and hunger for the precious metals hiding deep within the earth.
Once word spread about gold, silver, and copper strikes from up through the Comstock and down south through the Tonopah Basin in Esmeralda County, mining companies flocked to the land. Their sixteen and eighteen teams of mules left trails in the Nevada sand, stretching so far and wide, you could see them for miles until a dust storm covered the evidence.
Hordes of men trekked westward to apply with either the Tonopah Mining Company or the Goldfield Consolidated Mining Company. With their sights set on the riches, they all wanted a share of the money.
Just as I did.
However, unlike the hired hands forced to work in the mind-numbing dark below the ground, I staked my own claims. On the outskirts of town, I carved my own path through the Sierra Nevada far away from prying eyes and self-indulgent men. Their own ignorance tied them to the warrants of a suit-clad boss who they didn’t know and never would.
Not knowing how very little they’d actually receive, most of the yuppies now watched me as I strolled down the street on my way to the assessor’s office. Destined for a life only lived with the scraps they earned, their stained and tattered clothes nothing like the fine garments adorning every curve of my svelte body.
Pairs of eyes burned into me, tracing from my face down to the leather saddlebags clutched in my arms, a heavy burden that tired my horse not but five miles into our trip toward town.
Bags full of silver, gold, and copper.
Bags full of another fortune that everyone now stared at, wishing they could get their hands on—whether from the claims they worked in or owned, or stolen from my cold, dead hands.