Excerpts

CHAPTER ONE.........  (Exerpt)

 Yaku was a Shaman who, during the course of serving his community accumulated great wealth. He kept four wives, inhabited the most spacious dwelling and controlled nearly all the trading in Point Hope.

It was widely known that in separate instances Yaku had murdered three men.  He had killed others in battle. His imposing physical size and strength, along with his reputation as a Shaman that delighted in the sight of flowing blood, terrified the Eskimo villagers of this Arctic settlement on the west coast of Alaska. It was also well known Yaku would not hesitate to use dark medicine.

He came to Point Hope an orphaned Inupiat Indian, just over two years old. Reluctantly, the villagers agreed to take the child in at the urging of the nomad hunter who found him, cold and starving. The boy's parents were frozen to death but were still providing enough cover to keep him alive until the nomad came upon them at the banks of the Noatak River.

The great and wise one, Anuk, who had but one son, Kivuk, adopted the orphan. Anuk named him Yaku, 'orphan traveler'. Anuk proclaimed Yaku was to become second apprentice medicine man, and would serve as first should anything befall Kivuk.

When Anuk passed away unexpectedly fifteen seasons later, it was apparent that due to his sheer size, power and volition, Yaku would be first medicine man. No one in Point Hope rejoiced; all preferred the amiable Kivuk's medicine over the malevolent, menacing Yaku.

.........(A few pages later) Yaku fell into numb sleep with a rare smile on his face, and dreamed of himself as a powerful and ruthless ruler of many villages. His power steeped through him. After a time, Yaku awoke from his dreams. It was still dark out. The little demon had returned.

CHAPTER TWO.........(Exerpt)

 As Annie gave the pot back to Mr. Coffee, she looked quickly out the kitchen window. "Looks like Smokey Joe comin'." 

"Good." Jim had just about run out of small talk but be felt he'd accomplished letting Annie get to know her well drillers a bit better. 

It was Smokey Joe Cunningham all right. The car was unmistakably, distinctly Joe's, a pale faded baby-shit green boxy Plymouth four-door with a quarter inch of dust halfway up on all sides. This car would have been really ugly if someone with utterly no prestige had been driving it. But with Smokey Joe at the wheel on his way to your place, it was a thing of beauty and relief once he arrived. 

The car listed considerably to the driver's side. Joe pulled up alongside Jim's work truck. The Plymouth rocked momentarily after stopping in a small dust cloud, proving the shocks had given out many miles ago. The driver's door opened with a reluctant creak and Joe turned and swung out one leg at a time. His wife who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat made no move to get out. Joe placed a hand on each side of the door frame, began to pull himself up, and after considerable effort, he was standing. 

Jim greeted Joe, walked past him and opened the rear door of the funky car. He leaned down and retrieved some brass rods about two foot long from the floor behind the front seat while saying hello to Joe's wife. Ed moved toward the tool truck, reached over the bed and came back up with a short-handled sledgehammer and some wooden stakes painted red on the blunt end. 

Sam appeared out of the trees carrying a chainsaw. He was wearing glasses and earmuffs. After setting everything down, he greeted everyone as Big Jim did the introductions, leaving out Marie, Joe's wife who was ignoring them all, reading a book and smoking in the car. 

Shaking Smokey Joe's hand, Annie felt her excitement level kick up a notch. She had never seen a witcher at work before; she didn't know what to expect. 

The first thing she noticed about Joe was his big fat cheeks and Santa Claus belly. His white hair was crew-cut, making his ears stick out a bit oddly and accenting his beardless Santa Claus appearance. His cheeks held up soft sparkling, jovial eyes that let you know he was ready to tell a tale or two. He had a fleshy chin that gobblered to his chest. Smokey Joe was dressed for comfort, not compliments. He had on very faded light blue jean bib overalls and a T-shirt, his ensemble finished off with rubber break-up boots. 

"Whereabouts would 'cho folks like me to try first?" Joe had a slow, comfortable, slightly scratchy voice that had a reassuring tone. 

Sam pointed to a clearing down the hill a short distance from the cabin. "Right down towards the top of the bluff, Joe." 

And with that the group began walking toward where Sam and Annie hoped Joe would find water. Joe's wife stayed in the car. Taking baby steps so as not to leave Joe behind, Sam walked along side Joe asking questions, followed by Ed with the stakes, Annie and driller Jim bringing up the rear. In the spruce trees above, a magpie squawked to announce their entrance. 

Jim and Ed didn't get paid specifically for being here now, but Jim considered it part of the total job price. Besides, even though Joe knew better Jim needed to be here now to soothe the customer if needed and ensure the spot he witched was accessible enough to get the drill rig in and not directly under a power line or other obstacle. 

Annie nodded toward the rods Jim was carrying. "How do those work? I thought dowsers used a willow branch for this." 

"Some do," Jim replied. "I've seen 'em use willows, alders, crowbars, even pliers. But out of all of them Joe here's the only one that can really do it though, and heaven help anyone who doubts him." 

"But how?" 

"Well you see this bend here at the end?" Jim pointed at the 90° bend that was close to 6" long at the end of each rod. "He holds on to them there, walks with this long part pointed away from him and when they cross, that's it." 

Jim couldn't tell by her expression what she thought of this witchin' explanation. He had been through this routine hundreds of times and he still enjoyed watching the customers react to Joe's performance. 

Even the skeptics were in awe of Smokey Joe and would hire him just to be on the safe side. After all, his thirty-five dollar fee was cheap at twice the price considering the drilling of the well cost twenty-five dollars per foot. Jim particularly enjoyed it when those same cynics would question Joe's ability to find water. Joe would puff up, raise his voice authoritatively and bellow his customary "Mah grandaddy learnt me witchin' when ah was twelve years old! Ah'm now seventy-two years old! An ah ain't never witched a duster yet!" Then he would go on and scold them with a story of someone local who had not witched their well first, drilled two or more dry holes, then called Joe out. He had them move where he witched and of course they hit water at a surprisingly shallow depth. Soon the doubters would almost be apologizing. Big Jim loved it every time.

Not wanting to give the story away, we will skip way ahead to some of the action and characters towards the end.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE .........(Excerpt)
It had just gained ground.
It was right on their ass.
The highway was ahead now, within view.
"It's about to jump in the back!" Roy squealed.
Highway coming closer, Fido showed no intention of letting off the gas and applying some brakes for the ninety-degree
turn he would have to make up ahead.

Jim looked at the approaching highway, then he looked at Fido's eyes. Fido's eyes were darting back and forth, from the northern part of the highway, to the road directly in front of them.
When Jim turned his head north to see what Fido was looking at, he couldn't believe it. A shiny, stainless-steel gasoline tanker; southbound at full speed.
Jim instantly recognized what Fido was planning. He was gauging, speculating, measuring. Risking their lives.
"No way Fido!" Jim yelled over the lively, creaking noise of the pick-up. The Kikituk had him scared shitless, but now he was about to freak.
"Drop yer cocks and grab yer socks boys! We're gonna get western with this son-of-a-bitch!
"The second before they were to be T-boned by an eighteen-wheeler, Jim and Roy both put their hands on the dash and tucked their heads into their shoulders like a couple of turtles. They yelled, the kind of holler a guy lets go when he thinks he is about to die.
Fido yelled also. "YEE-HAH!"

An air horn went off, blasting vehement protest. The three men in the pick-up crossed the highway.
Jim pinched his eyes closed. He felt the truck's tires go airborne as they reached the pavement. His stomach rolled over when his brain recognized the vehicle his body was traveling in was out of control. The air horn to their immediate right was very loud now, blasting in where the passenger's window used to be.

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The story is not only about what is chasing these "gentleman", but it revolves around a plan perpetrated by a greedy and very cunning individual who will do anything for what he wants.

Thrilling suspense, great Alaskan characters, plot twists, and surprises abound!