I’m excited to share with you all that my next novel, Tomahawk, is well underway: a sprawling Western set in 1880 Wyoming, where the frontier is still raw, the law is thin, and every man carries a past that rides just behind him. 

At its heart is Wyatt Carson. A man walking the fine line between the past and survival. Drawn into a widening conflict over greedy mining interests and a fragile peace with the native tribes that is beginning to fracture. What starts as a search for a sacred Tomahawk becomes something much larger . . . something that could set the entire territory on fire. This is a sweeping story about Hobson choices in a time far removed from our own. A story about knowing when to stand your ground against the winds of history when the ground itself is about to disappear beneath your feet.

What follows is a brief excerpt from Tomahawk.

***

Wyatt hesitated at the edge of the circle. He was still an outsider. Worse. He was a white man burdened with knowledge he could not explain without sounding crazy.

“May I speak with you alone, Running Moon?” Wyatt asked, keeping his voice steady despite the storm in his chest.

Several pairs of eyes shifted towards him . . . curious, guarded. The chief studied Wyatt for a long moment, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight, then nodded once. 

They walked a short distance, to where the grass gave way to stone and the fire’s warmth thinned. “You have thoughts you do not wish the others to know?” He asked.

Wyatt stopped and turned towards Running Moon. “The blue coat, the lieutenant . . . he meant what he said. About wanting peace . . . about wanting to help.”

Running Moon tilted his head. “You believe his words?”

“Yes,” Wyatt replied. Then, just as quickly, tried to change how that might sound. “No . . . not like that.”

“It would be best if we asked Nokoni to join us. Your Shoshone is upside down.”

“No, not yet,” Wyatt answered.

“Then, try to speak clearly, Wyatt.”

Wyatt dragged a hand through his hair, searching for a path through the truth that wouldn’t make his words sound stupid. “The lieutenant was not lying, Running Moon. That is the danger. Men like him believe what they say when they say it. But what happens after his words have faded won’t belong to him.”

The chief remained silent.

Wyatt pressed on, his heart hammering as he tried to explain. “Other men will decide things from far away. The lieutenant will be told to act, and when that happens, his promises to you won’t matter anymore.”

“You say this as if you have walked this road before and know it to be true.” The chief said calmly.

Wyatt met his eyes. “I have.”

Running Moon studied the sky, where the first stars were beginning to appear. “You fear the future.”

“I know it.” Wyatt said, the words escaping before he could stop them. “It is not because the lieutenant is a bad man. But sometimes good men must follow bad orders.”

The chief exhaled slowly. “We cannot fight what has not yet come, Wyatt.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to trust a promise that might not survive the winter.”

“You ask me to doubt without proof.”

Wyatt swallowed. “I ask you only to prepare.”

Then the chief placed a firm hand on Wyatt’s shoulder like a father would. “The river does not stop because it fears a flood, but it remembers the shape of its banks.” As they walked back toward the fire. Wyatt didn’t know whether that was an agreement or a dismissal or somehow both.