Spotlight & Giveaway: To the Gates of Hell by David Nix

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you David Nix’s new release: To the Gates of Hell

Fans of William Johnstone and Ralph Compton will love this action-packed historical western featuring a lone gunman and the people he’s tasked with protecting.

 
Jake Paynter escaped the noose, but the price of salvation is pain.

Since reluctantly accepting the marshal’s job at South Pass City, Jake’s life has become an unending run of solving other people’s problems. When outlaw boss Dutch van Zandt and his ruthless band mount a campaign of mayhem in Jake’s corner of the Wyoming Territory, Jake learns that Lucien Ashley, his persistent adversary, may be aiding the criminals to expand his burgeoning cattle fortune. The fact that Lucien is the brother of Rosalyn, a woman Jake admires, complicates matters.

Determined to thwart van Zandt and Lucien, Jake recruits a posse of old friends and former platoon mates that puts the outlaw gang on the run. When Lucien betrays van Zandt, the outlaw leader loots Jake’s town and takes Rosalyn and four children captive. With friends few and enemies in abundance, Jake must thread a harrowing needle to run down van Zandt in the rugged Wyoming wilderness and save Rosalyn and the children without ending up in a shallow grave.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from To the Gates of Hell 

“Listen up!”
A hundred pairs of eyes turned his way. He paced three steps along the porch before returning to address the throng.
“I’m going after van Zandt. I’ll take a few with me, those I can trust in a fight. The rest must stay behind to set up a defense in case the outlaws circle back or have others waiting in reserve for us to leave. The only truth of van Zandt is that he’s unpredictable and capable of most any atrocity. Band together, neighbor to neighbor. Keep the children hunkered down. And if the men who attacked you dare to return, give ’em all the lead plums you got. Understand?”
Heads bobbed as resolve settled on the collected faces. Mr. Ellison, on the other hand, cringed. “What about the Tenth Cavalry? Shouldn’t chasing after outlaws be their job?”
Dunbar pushed Ellison to his knees. “Don’t be a fool. They’re a week south of here. By the time they arrived, van Zandt could be in Canada.”
Paynter glared at the storekeeper before pacing again and pointing. “Gus Rivers. Stacy Blue. Jim Jackson. You’re with me.”
Stacy breathed a sigh of relief even as her stomach fell into her britches with a thud. He was inviting her on his ride toward the devil, and she’d all but asked for the ticket.
“I’m with you too,” said Aguilar, even while Maddie fished for the bullet in his shoulder. Paynter shook his head.
“No, my friend. You’re wounded and I need you here. You and Glen and Mrs. Morris. I appoint you as deputies in my place to organize the militia and lock down the town boundary.”
“But, Marshal…”
“It’s done, Francisco. Hold the fort.”
Aguilar nodded, much to his wife’s relief. “I will.”
“Mrs. Morris?”
The tall woman stood taller still. “We’ll button this place up like a kettledrum.”
“And you, Glen?”
The big Scotsman thumped his hammer into his palm. “’Twould be my honor.”
“Good. Your first assignment is to requisition from Mr. Ellison enough supplies for two weeks on the trail while Gus rounds up enough ammunition to stop an infantry charge.”
“With pleasure.”
Glen yanked up Ellison by the collar and marched him toward the sundry shop. As Stacy watched them walk away, motion from up the street drew her eyes. Mr. Emshoff was riding toward them at a dead gallop, musket in hand and a bag thrown over one shoulder. His normally warm eyes had gone cold, hard, lifeless. The amiable planes of his face seemed suddenly cast in concrete, unflinching and resolute. She’d heard the story of how he’d killed the Prussian soldiers who tried to rape his wife. Now she knew how he might’ve looked when he did it. Emshoff reined his horse to a halt and flung himself to the dirt to stand before Paynter.
“If you’re giving chase,” he said, “then I am going with you. Otherwise, I go alone.”
He clipped the words, his German accent never more pronounced. Paynter simply nodded once. “Have Gus lend you a carbine. Leave the musket for Otto. We light out as soon as we provision.” As Emshoff turned away, Paynter stepped from the porch to place a hand on the man’s shoulder. The two men locked eyes and spoke epics with no words. In that exchange, Stacy saw clearly how this would end. Paynter and Emshoff would die a thousand times before giving up the chase. They’d kill their enemies and retrieve their loved ones or lie cold in the soil. All middle ground had shrunk to an infinitesimal point where no man could stand without falling to one side or the other. Emshoff dipped his forehead and walked away to find Gus. When Stacy looked back to Paynter, she found herself inside the narrow focus of his calculating gaze.
“We’re gonna need two packhorses.”
“On it.”
She trotted several blocks to the stables and picked out two of Gus’s best horses—a big roan and a sturdy black mustang. She paused only long enough to collect her extra saddlebag, stuff in a spare shirt, and grab the long leather coat that had been hanging ownerless in the stables for six months. As she led the horses down the street, the flurry of activity in front of the sundry mimicked a kicked-over anthill. Townsfolk were making a pile of supplies in the street while Gus, Emshoff, and Aguilar inspected extra rifles and measured out cartridges, powder, shot, and caps. Maddie was wiping down her bullet forceps, having removed the ball from Aguilar’s shoulder. She pressed the instrument into her black bag and hurried up the street, holding her skirt above the slosh of mud. Stacy frowned but continued toward the growing pile.
She handed over the tethers to a couple of young girls and began helping Jim Jackson and Glen pack the horses. Jerky, hard biscuits, salted ham, a tin of lard, cook pans, drinking tins, canteens, rope, rolls of canvas, blankets—the pile shifted from the street onto horseback item by item. Mr. Ellison’s face fell in the process as he appeared to count his loss of profits. Stacy failed to muster much sympathy for the man. He’d made a fortune gouging folks with exorbitant prices. Civic duty was precious when freely offered, but just as valuable when coerced.
After she cinched down the last of the leather straps holding the supplies in place, Stacy found Maddie standing beside her. The woman had exchanged her dress for britches, a cotton shirt, an oversized coat, and a weathered hat. Her hand clenched the tether of her horse, which loomed over her shoulder. Stacy squinted.
“Mrs. Dunbar?”
“I’m going with you.”
A shadow fell across them, cast by Glen. He stared at his wife with incredulity. “Maddie? What the devil?”
“I’m going with them.” Her tone was cast in iron, like the products of her husband’s forge. “They’ll need a doctor at some point, but will have to settle for me.”
“But…” Glen swallowed. “But you’re no gunfighter. You’ve never killed a man.”
She stepped in toward him and gently poked his chest with her finger. “I don’t plan to kill anyone, you big ox. But I might save a life. So, I’m going. I’ll be back. Take good care of Lily.”
When her voice broke, Glen gathered her into an enveloping embrace. He whispered something Stacy couldn’t hear, but his terror and pride were on full display. Maddie nodded twice, kissed him from toe tips, and spun away. Glen’s woeful eyes locked with Stacy’s. She dipped her chin.
“I’ll bring her back or I won’t come back. You have my word.”
His nostrils flared, but he gave her a nod. “Your word is as good as gold, Miss Blue. Godspeed.”

Excerpt. ©David Nix. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

Giveaway: 5 paperback copies of Dead Man’s Hand (US only)

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Meet the Author:

When I was eight, my adventurous parents hauled our young family from the west coast to a Wyoming mountain town perched on the border of the Wind River reservation. That magical landscape infused my formative years with a wonder of local lore that was both historical and immediate, and revealed to me that often the greatest stories have been all but forgotten or were never told. After publishing science fiction and historical romance for ten years, it seemed a matter of destiny that I’d eventually return to the tales of my youth. The Jake Paynter series brings together fact and fiction to explore places, people, and themes precious to me.

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