Dive Into ‘A Profitable Wife’ with an Exclusive Excerpt — Order Now!

Welcome to an exclusive sneak peek into my latest literary venture! The release of “A Profitable Wife” has happened, the excitement is palpable, and I’m thrilled to share that my novel is now available. This book, a labor of love and a testament to the power of storytelling, is ready to find its way into your hands and hearts.

To celebrate this milestone, I am honored to present you with an excerpt from the novel—a glimpse into the world and characters that I’ve poured my soul into. So, settle in, pour yourself a cup of your favorite beverage, and enjoy this special preview. May it entice you to join me on this adventure that is “A Profitable Wife.“

In “Of Snake!”, a chilling chapter from “A Profitable Wife,” we witness the harrowing moment a character is thrown into a literal pit of danger, a sinister trap laid by a father-in-law whose disdain turns venomous. Brace yourself for a tale of survival and deceit…

Of Snake!

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Vile reptile!

Base as vile, and cowardly as base;

A straight descendant thou of him, methinks,

Man’s ancient foe, or else his paraphrase.

…For there is nothing mean, or base, or vile,

That is not comprehended in the name

Of SNAKE! [i]

…The Red Rock Saloon in Bellevue had a reputation. Not only did it house women “of the right kind” for solicitation, but it also offered, for a price, various nefarious services. The town had become somewhat tamer in recent years, with the worst gunfights occurring in the 1840s. Although most notorious thugs were no longer around, intimidation and bribery could still be bought, along with various types of thievery.

Emma Johnson was a lady that could broker such things. The bartender routed such prospective customers her way, and she would provide a kickback in return. Being discreet and delivering as promised was what kept her in business. Anything less could land her in jail as a co-conspirator, and so she was more than careful to ensure safe customers and as reliable workers as one could expect in such a business as this.

Years of homesteading had etched lines into Emma’s face. She was plain and plump. When her husband injured himself so severely that he couldn’t work on the farm, they moved into town. Now, Emma was the sole breadwinner.

Her mouse-brown hair was styled in a bun, like most settler women. She wasn’t the type to catch a man’s eye or draw attention while serving drinks or polishing glasses. This was intentional. While the other girls, “of the right kind,” wore fancier, more revealing clothes and spent time on their hair to compete for patrons, Emma’s goal was to observe, make casual friends, and catalog her acquaintances. She also connected people in need of reputable business contacts, like flatboat owners offering freight services or traders looking to swap goods. Her legitimate business provided cover for her more illicit dealings. Business was business, and Emma was an astute businesswoman.

Sitting across the table from her right now was a paying customer nursing his fourth whiskey. A farmer wanted to broker a “discreet hunting accident.” His target was a local mill worker with few ties. Emma knew the right pair for the job. With winter slowing things down, they were bored and likely to accept a few pieces of silver for the task. The mill worker had a young wife, and the farmer wanted to make her a widow. It needed to appear beyond suspicion; perhaps a snakebite or a fatal encounter with his horse. Emma took the silver and watched the man leave. In the winter, snakes moved slower, but timber rattlesnakes could still strike quickly. If the mill worker fell into a snake pit while hunting, it could indeed prove deadly…

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The bonds that gripped Abram’s arms were tied over his shirt. Odd that these men had done it this way. It was almost as if they did not want to cause any injury to his wrists. With the sack over his head, Abram had no idea where they were taking him. He carried nothing valuable to steal. He suspected they were part of the Mormon Nauvoo gang, finally exacting their revenge, still bitter over his departure from their ranks. Those were ones with a long memory, and vivid stories of their revenge were hair-raising to say the least.

He heard muffled voices say, “We’re to make it look like a hunting accident.”

If Abram did not have a gag stuffed in his mouth to silence him, he could have responded, “But I don’t hunt. My wife does all the hunting. I work in the mill…”

They had jumped him on his way home from town. Abram had no chance of escape, no warning. He desperately hoped they weren’t after his wife, too.

Suddenly, Abram found himself on the ground, his bonds being cut. He swung at one assailant but missed, then found himself tumbling into some sort of pit. An ominous rattling forewarned the impending strike of many snakes…and then the strikes began.

Abram leaped and danced, trying to evade the serpents, but it was futile. Each bite swelled and discolored his skin. He screamed and clawed at the pit’s sides, unable to climb out, as two faces watched from above.

Abram’s heart raced, and his skin began to tingle, as if needles were poking him from the inside out. The snakebites seemed endless, and the figures above blurred, while his labored breaths weakened. An overwhelming fatigue pulled him to his knees, as if he weighed 500 pounds.

At last, in the end, as he lay on his back, Abram gasped into the darkness, “I don’t hunt…”

[i]Curzon, Sarah Anne. Laura Second, The Heroine of 1812: A Drama and Other Poems. Toronto: 1887, “Vile Reptile!” 34.

‘A Profitable Wife,’ is now available on Amazon and other online book retailers.