Wolfe of the West--World of de Wolfe Pack

by Elizabeth Rose

  If you enjoyed Wolfe of the West, I’d love for you to leave a review on amazon. In doing so, if you’d like to see a continuation of this story as a series, please let me know in your review. Would you like to see Wade, Warion, or Ginny’s story next?

  If you enjoy series books, you might want to look into some of my other series, many of them medieval.

  If you’d like to read about the ranch hand from Wolfe of the West, Chase Masters - you’ll find his story in The Drifter. Jake Stonewall – the gambler’s story can be found in The Gambler, and the bounty hunter, Killian McCree, can be found along with Faye in his story - The Bounty Hunter.

  Please be sure to visit my website at Elizabethrosenovels.com for more information on this series and to subscribe to my blog in order to receive updates about new releases. You can also read excerpts from any of my novels on my website as well as get sneak peeks at covers of upcoming books. And please remember that there are other authors by the same name, but my novels can be identified by the rose on every cover.

  I’ve included a list of my books for you as well as excerpts. Enjoy!

  Elizabeth Rose

  Books by Elizabeth Rose:

  ♔ (Legacy of the Blade Series)

  ♔ Prequel

  ♔Lord of the Blade

  ♔Lady Renegade

  ♔Lord of Illusion

  ♔Lady of the Mist

  ♛(Daughters of the Dagger Series)

  ♛Prequel

  ♛Ruby

  ♛Sapphire

  ♛Amber

  ♛Amethyst

  ♖ (Madman MacKeefe Series)

  ♖ Onyx

  ♖ Aidan

  ♖ Ian

  ♗(Barons of the Cinque Ports)

  ♗The Baron’s Quest

  ♗The Baron’s Bounty (New!)

  ♗The Baron’s Destiny (Coming this winter)

  ☀(Elemental Series)

  ☀The Dragon and the Dreamwalker

  ☀The Duke and the Dryad

  ☀The Sword and the Sylph

  ☀The Sheik and the Siren

  ✛(Tarnished Saints Series)

  ✛Tarnished Saints’ Christmas (Prequel)

  ✛Doubting Thomas

  ✛Luring Levi

  ✛Judging Judas

  ✛Seducing Zeb

  ✛Saving Simon

  ✛Wrangling James

  ✛Praising Pete

  ✛Teaching Philip

  ✛Loving John (Coming soon)

  ✭(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)

  ✭The Pandora Curse

  ✭The Oracle of Delphi

  ✭Thief of Olympus

  ✭Kyros’ Secret

  ♡(Short stories)

  ♡One Red Rose

  ♡My Christmas Soldier

  ♘(Cowboys of the Old West)

  ♘The Outlaw

  ♘The Bounty Hunter

  ♘The Gambler

  ♘The Drifter

  ♘The Gunslinger

  Wolfe of the West

  ☂(Single Title)

  ☂The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill

  ☂Curse of the Condor

  ☂Familiar

  (Gnarled Nursery Rhymes)

  ☠Mary, Mary

  ☠Muffet (coming soon)

  ☽(Tangled Tales)

  ☽Lady and the Wolf (New)

  ❒(Boxed Sets)

  ❒Border Lords and Ladies

  ❒Dragon Lords and Warriors

  ❒Ancient Warriors and Lovers

  ❒Cowboys of the Old West

  And More!

  Website: elizabethrosenovels.com

  Excerpt from The Gambler:

  Jake Stonewall, often known as Ace, held his hand of cards close to his chest, searching out the eyes of the other five men sitting at the gambling table in Dirty Gulch Saloon.

  “What’ll it be, Stoneface?” growled Otto Leadbeater, the town’s barber from across the table. The man seemed anxious, but not as nervous as Sam Dowr, the saloon owner sitting next to him. The Wainwright brothers to the right of Jake had folded, since he’d cleaned out their pockets already by winning almost every round.

  “You know I don’t like to be called Stoneface,” Jake said in a low voice, stalling, trying to figure out if Tom Wipps to the left of him had a hand that could beat his four queens. “Call me Jake, or Ace. And I don’t like to be rushed, either,” he said, placing his cards face down on the table and fingering the pile of coins stacked up high next to him that he’d already won.

  The other gamblers called him stoneface because he always kept his emotions at bay, locked deep inside where no one ever knew what he was thinking.

  “That’s right, don’t call him Stoneface,” said Wiley Wainwright with a chuckle, still sore about all he’d lost. “My brother and I just call him Jackass.”

  Jake knew the man was trying to get him roiled and break his concentration. Well, that wasn’t going to happen at this point in the game, though his finger was itching to pull the trigger and shut the man up once and for all.

  “It’s Jake Ace,” he corrected the man, pretending as if the comment didn’t bother him. “And I’ll just let that comment slide for now.” He looked at the man from the corner of his eye, staring him down. “At least until after I’ve collected all my winnings. So hobble your lip and stop trying to cause a shindy, Wainwright, because it’s not going to work.”

  “Let’s wind this up already,” Wiley’s brother, Grover, spouted out.

  “I will when I’m damned well ready and not before.” Jake turned back to the game. The pot in the middle of the table was the biggest it’d been all night. Otto already threw in his gold pocket watch and Jake had even convinced Sam to throw in his new tooled leather horse saddle as well. The Wainwright brothers had padded the pot with not only money, but also some fine German cigars.

  Jake studied everyone’s body actions next. Sam kept rubbing his hand over his chin, so that meant he didn’t have more than two pairs. He always rubbed his chin whenever he had anything less than a full house. Jake noticed that, every time he came to town to empty the man’s pockets. Otto, on the other hand, kept biting his lip and glancing down to his watch in the center of the table as if he already missed it, so Jake knew he was most likely bluffing.

  And then there was Tom who was much harder to read. Jake was starting to think the man had something up on him, until he saw the drop of sweat trickling down the side of Tom’s face. Poker players who knew they had a winning hand didn’t sweat. Sweating was when a man had something good, but not the best it could be, and he was afraid of losing. So maybe Jake could beat him after all. But he had to be sure.

  “Copper yer bet already, Stonewall, and stop chasin’ the devil around the stump,” complained Sam.

  “Don’t get your dander up, Sam. I’m thinking,” he said in a calm, controlled voice.

  Jake scratched his head next, giving the signal to the saloon girl across the room that he wanted her help.

  Jenny Mae, a whore who worked the saloon and who Jake had frequented on occasion, came up behind Tom, quickly glancing down at his cards just like Jake had instructed her to do. Jake took a deep breath and waited for her signal.

  Jenny Mae liked Jake. A lot. Jake knew this and used it to his advantage. He had promised her a night of booze, good food, good sex, and a new dress to boot if he won the whole shebang. She smiled at him and wet her lips.

  Her tongue trailed up one half of her top lip, then across to the other side. Jake watched carefully, but tried not to let the other men know what he was doing. Next, Jenny Mae’s tongue shot across her bottom lip and didn’t stop until she licked it straight over to the other side. Four positions with her tongue meant the man had four of a kind. Jake had his answer.

  Unfortunately, it only made him think about how good the tart was with her tongue, and that was only going to get him distracted and make him lose this hand. He shook the thought from his mind, wishing now they’d thought of something different for her to use as a signal.


  So Tom was cradling four of a kind, but now he needed to know which cards and if they could beat the four ladies in his hand.

  Jake tried not to look directly at Jenny Mae, because he didn’t want to give away his secret weapon. Between the calico queen giving him signals and the four queens in his hand, he had a good feeling about winning the final pot. After all, he’d always had a way with the ladies and it hadn’t steered him wrong but once in all his years of gambling.

  Tom’s hand was good, but when the whore jacked up her bodice with both hands next, Jake almost let out a loud sigh of relief. That told him Tom held jacks, and not kings or Aces. Just what he needed to know since he couldn’t read the man the way he could read the others. He normally didn’t need to cheat at cards because he’d become polished at his skill, but once in awhile he had to employ a little outside help.

  “All right, I’m in,” he said, finally making his decision. “I’m ALL in, that is.” Jake pushed his entire pile of money into the center of the table and looked over to the rest of the players waiting for them to do the same if they wanted to stay in the game.

  “Damn, that’s too steep for me,” said Otto, throwing down his cards on the table, still eyeing up his timepiece with a frown on his face.

  “What about you, Sam?” Jake nodded toward the saloon keeper, already knowing he’d fold as well.

  Sam looked at his hand and then shook his head. “I’ve already bet my new saddle. I don’t have anything else to add to the pot.”

  “How about the horse, too?” asked Jake with a smile on his face.

  “You know a man without a horse is as well as dead in these remote parts of Nevada, Stonewall. I’m not giving up my horse.”

  “You have the saloon,” Jake added. “How about that?”

  Sam’s face turned red and he just threw down his cards on the table. “Dammit, Stonewall, every time you come to town you clean me out. I’m not lining your pockets with any more plunder. I’m out.” He pushed away from the table and headed over to the bar where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink.

  “That just leaves you and me, Tom,” Jake said with a lazy drawl. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Jake, you already took everything from me,” Tom protested. The man was the oldest one at the table, and also the filthiest. He looked as if he hadn’t washed in months, and his teeth were rotten and falling out. Not to mention, the tuft of hair on his nearly bald head looked as if it had never seen a comb. He had a thick mustache and a long beard to match it.

  “Well, if you’re going to stay in the game, you’ve got to match me. And unless it’s something good, I’d say I just won the pot.”

  Tom shook his head, looking defeated. Jake chuckled, knowing the man was about to fold, so he started to reach for his treasure in the middle of the table.

  “Wait!” said Tom, surprising Jake and causing him to stop. Jake knew he already had everything the man came in with, so wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Once again, he had a hard time reading Tom Wipps.

  Tom wasn’t a rancher nor a business owner. He was a simple miner and Jake figured he was just as poor as the dirt that covered his clothes. “I’ve got something to bet after all,” Tom announced.

  Jake glance up to Jenny Mae who just gave him a slight shrug of her shoulders and headed over to stand by the bar. “Well, what is it?” Jake asked curiously, wondering if the miner had been holding out and hiding a nugget of gold.

  Tom put his hand into his vest pocket which caused Jake to go for his gun.

  “Ease up,” Tom said, his hands raising up in front of him for all to see. “I’m not going for my gun.”

  Jake wasn’t all so sure about that, since he really didn’t know the man as well as the others, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. “All right. But move slowly, and if I see a piece in your hand I’ll shoot you through the heart before you have a chance to blink.”

  Jake had had his share of trouble in the past. Being an experienced gambler, and winning more than most men make in a year at every sitting, he’d also had bouts with sore losers who wanted to plug him and steal his loot. That’s where being a quick draw came in handy – in card playing as well as with a gun.

  “This is all I have,” said Tom, slowly pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and sliding it to the center of the table.

  “What is it?” Jake asked, reaching out and unfolding the paper, yet keeping his hand on the hilt of his gun and his eyes on every man at the table as well.

  “It’s the receipt for my mail-order bride.”

  Excerpt from The Baron’s Quest – Book 1

  (Barons of the Cinque Ports Series)

  “Baron Romney,” said the Collector of Customs, nodding in a half bow. “We were just removing this woman and boy from the docks.”

  “Were you,” he answered, seeing that they were not in control of the situation at all.

  The wind blew the coif loose from the girl’s head. She caught it before it hit the ground, her cape opening in the process. Her golden hair came loose, blowing like a maelstrom around her. She was a small wench, the top of her head not even reaching his chin. Her hair was like spun cornsilk, and hung down to her waist – as was the customary length of hair for women of the time. She wore a sleeveless amber colored kirtle laced down the front and belted high on her waist that was long, all the way to the ground. It wasn’t the coarse, brown material, or canvas worn by the peasants. She also had what looked like a fine spun white, long sleeved chemise she wore underneath it. This told him she must be from the middle class instead. Probably a merchant, by the looks of the travel bag on her shoulder with the bolt of silk sticking out the top. “Who are you and why are you here?”

  Her head snapped around at his command and she looked suddenly frightened. Her indigo eyes flashed over to the boy in the cart, and though there were no words exchanged between them, he recognized it as a warning to the boy to stay silent.

  “My lord,” she said, curtseying dramatically, her sweet voice like the song of a meadowlark filling the air. The wind picked up her mantle and it blew in the breeze behind her, reminding him of a noble instead of who she really was. She quickly wound up her hair and replaced her coif, denying him the pleasure of seeing her silky long hair again. “We were just leaving.” She hurried around to the other side of the cart, giving him a wide berth.

  “Not before you pay your fine, you don’t,” warned the Collector of Customs, reaching out and grabbing her by the arm.

  “Let go of me,” she said, trying to shake him loose. “I didn’t sell anything, so I have no need to pay you a customs tax on my goods.” The song of the sweet meadowlark had suddenly turned into the sharp cackle of a raven instead.

  “You are being fined not on the goods but for trying to peddle your wares on the docks, and on a Sunday after the noon hour no less,” the Tidewaiter told her.

  “Let her go,” Nicholas ordered, in a low voice. He didn’t like to see any woman treated harshly, no matter if it was the norm for most men to do so.

  The man dropped her arm and she hurriedly got into the wagon, settling herself on the wooden seat next to the boy. The rain started pouring down now, bringing with it a cold sting. She hurriedly placed her travel bag with the silk beneath her mantle, keeping it guarded from the weather.

  “What about her fine?” asked the collector.

  “Yes, the fine. Let me see.” Nicholas unsheathed his sword from his side, amused when he saw the looks of terror on their faces. Did she and the boy really think he was going to run them through with his blade just for trying to peddle their wares? “What have you got here?” He used the tip of his sword to push aside the blanket covering the goods in the cart. He saw about a dozen closed barrels and more bundles wrapped securely and wedged tightly into the spaces in between. “Open them,” he instructed his men, and stepped aside. As the dockmen moved forward to do so, the girl stopped them with her words.

  “Nay! Please don’t. There i
s spun wool and bolts of finely woven cloth in there that will be soiled by the rain.”

  “Don’t tell us what to do,” growled the Tidewaiter, reaching forward, but Nicholas stopped him.

  “Leave it be,” he told the man, sheathing his sword in the process.

  “But my lord,” started the man, but once again Nicholas stopped him.

  “That’ll be all,” he said, dismissing the men.

  “Aye, m’lord,” they answered and turned away. The rain fell harder now as he looked back up to the girl. She stayed hidden under her coif and the boy wouldn’t make eye contact at all. He had the feeling he’d seen these two before, but couldn’t place them.

  “You are obviously merchants, though your faces are only slightly familiar. Tell me – what are your names?”

  Excerpt from Amber – Book 3

  (Daughters of the Dagger Series)

  Bowerwood Abbey, England, 1357

  Vespers had just finished, and Amber de Burgh of Blackpool, novice of the Sisters of St. Ermengild, blessed herself as the doors to the church slammed open, and in entered the devil himself.

  All heads of the congregation of praying nuns and monks turned toward the door, and Father Armand who was conducting the service looked up sharply in surprise.

  “Lucifer!” he cried out, startling everyone inside the church. “Bid the devil.”

  Commotion broke out and the occupants of the church parted like the Red Sea. The nuns huddled together in a hurry, quickly blessing themselves and praying aloud in the process. The monks gathered together at the other side of the church in hushed whispers.

  Amber raised her chin, looking over the heads of the nuns, surprised to see a man standing in the doorway instead of the horned and hoofed demon she expected to find. A bedraggled man with a chain around his neck and chains on his wrists stood in the entranceway. His legs were spread, and his hands raised to stop the doors of the church as they hit the wall and swung back toward him. Lightning illuminated him from behind, and thunder boomed from outside as rain pelted down like a barrage of arrows from the sky, crashing against the stone steps of the church directly behind him.