Sinossi
Gold, God, and Glory -- Ten years earlier, Reese Sullivan rode away from his wife, Vanessa, and young son, Trey. Now they will embark on a perilous journey that pits father and son against unseen enemies, natural disaster, and each other—while back home the women they love face an unimagined danger. Will they uncover the key to a vast and fabled treasure?
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Informazioni sull?autore
I’m Kit Prate. I grew up in a small town in the Midwest; a great place where people never locked their doors and where the neighbors watched out for each other and all the children. Consequently, we had to work very hard to get into mischief without getting caught. In my case, it was pretty easy. I was a tomboy. I fished, I hiked; I explored acres of open fields, carrying my own Red Ryder BB Gun. My real playground was the stockyards. It was a wonderful world. Horses, cattle; real cowboys who tended the livestock and who allowed me and my best friend—within reason—free run of the barns and the corrals. You can learn a lot from cowboys. How to roll a cigarette, how to fashion a proper hangman’s noose, how to ride bareback at a full run, and how to tuck and roll when you fall off. (And you do fall off.) You also learn to be respectful to your betters; to say yes, ma’am, and yes, sir. Oh. And to never get your thumb caught when you dally a rope. Of course, there were some drawbacks. Until I started school, I actually thought the proper name for bovines was goddamnmiserablesonsonsofbitches; all one word. And so began a life-long love affair with all things cowboy. History, fiction; great movies without computer enhanced special effects; in other words, open country. Years later, when I was working as a subcontractor for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, I had the opportunity to rekindle that love. There was nothing better than a weekend on horseback riding through places like Monument Valley, the hill country in Texas, the deserts in Arizona, the vastness of the Sioux reservation; or the same country where Billy the Kid rode, and ultimately died. I don’t write history. I write western fiction; what could have been. Stories of strong men and women who survived the best and the worst the West had to offer. All in all; it has been a great life. Especially with four kids tossed into the mix. Every day is a gift, and a surprise. Visit me at: http://kitprate.blogspot.com/
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