drsawzall

In January of 1848, gold was discovered at Sutter's Mill south of San Francisco. By April of that year, word had gotten out, causing a stampede west of inconceivable numbers. Fortunes were made and lost in supplying those with gold fever. Many businesses went belly up while a few succeeded. Yet in Hawaiʻi, fortunes await to be made by those who grasp how the island's economy runs... This should be very interesting...

How many of these lives will he remember??? Will they learn something to break the cycle?

Settling in has become part of a routine that has yet to form into something that can be identified....Marcus learns that everyone says things with words they don't believe

Just loved it...checkmate you old gezzer.... "I assure you, Mr. Tyrell, my intentions for this evening are entirely honorable," Declan said smoothly, his tone even and entirely devoid of fear. "Furthermore, I have already taken the liberty of reviewing Aethelgard Omnicare’s recent SEC filings for the third quarter. Given your current aggressive expansion into the European pharmaceutical markets, your immediate liquidity is simply not structured for a hostile land-acquisition takeover in this zip code without triggering a massive federal antitrust audit. Sir." And kudos for the leather jacket...now aim for the return of the pompadour.

I'm sorry, most everyone wearing the heavy armour of asshole, that I've had the displeasure of meeting, is, was, and always be an asshole.... This "date' coming up should be interesting, and remember Andy has topped that little energizer Siberian husky, AKA MacDaddy....sup brah....dig my rizz?

Lucas and Ronan are just something else...they will end up ruling the pack as an earlier commentator suggested... Now...How does Barnaby fit in to ending Andy 's father? Another immortal????

Poor Andy, caught between the pharmaceutical companies who want his secret to longevity and his sire. Hopefully they take both of themselves out, with the aid of a fluffy husky... and a determined pack willing to defend their own. Anyone got a cup of silver nitrate??? Perhaps Mom has it in the spice cabinet... Esca’s smile returned. It was a masterpiece of cold, calculated terror.

A ploy that could have backfired,... ‘I’m trying out the number of Sander B.’s missing phone in the hope it’d start ringing in somebody’s pocket here in the crowd. It did not. I guess it isn’t here or it’s turned off.’

Not only is it a comedy of errors, but it is also becoming predictable. In the next chapter, a meteor hits a mud puddle while Mark approaches, but Sandro's back is turned....Oy vey....

My prediction.... When they look back on the beginning of their relationship, it will always be about the boots that started it...that's my story, and I am sticking to it...

Loved this chapter, brought back memories of hiking in the White Mountains in New Hampshire, obviously no comparison to the Alps. One favorite three-day hike: From Appalachia Trailhead to Madison Springs Hut, the next day up to the top of Mt Adams, then to Mt Washington and overnight at Lakes of the Clouds Hut, next day down to Crawford Notch. What I loved best about this chapter was the time spent above the treeline, stargazing, as it was one of my favorite parts of hiking. Oh, the memories...thanks!!!

@centexhairysub, best comment of the day, well done... Now the following gives me pause “Aaron isn't himself right now. You don't know his history. Perhaps you will one day.” Her gaze drifted toward the window. “But he has suffered a loss no one should have to survive. Men like Calder have a vicious way of dragging that darkness in him back to the surface. If I don't give him a legitimate transition of power to focus on, he's going to find Calder and execute him.” Then, this makes me wonder if Austin's father will somehow be incorporated into the mix...used as psychological warfare or Calder turns the father...oy vey...ay caramba... "Once you are turned, no one from your civilian life can know about your whereabouts or our existence," she said. "I understand your father is still alive." "He won't come looking for me. Nobody will." And I'm selling shares in the Brooklyn Bridge and house lots in the Everglades... Next chapter please and thanks!!!

Is it me or do I see some other source of trouble for Nos... Ame-Onna Emi just might be one source, holding hands with Cal.... Or... Could Cal sense it through their markings, just how badly Nos was becoming wrapped around his little finger? He certainly hoped so. Hopefully Orion gets his just due, his act is getting very tiresome, and I can't believe no one see the damage he directs or does, isn't witnessed....

Took the words right out of my mouth...well done! All I can add is that ifin there's will, there's a way...a right passible idea is jest around the corner...or canvas, or leather..and lord forbid, the cold steel of a useless gun barrell...And if the lord is willin and the crik don't rise...they jest make it to Barnswallow in good time..now, the bone marrow trick just might be the best idea yet... Fletcher laughed again. “Just how much water you think we need to shoot up there?” August chuckled, and then practically howled. “Imagine if folks could hear us talking about squirting water up our backsides.” “Don’t even want to think about it.” Fletcher snickered and then sighed. “This was easier to talk about than I thought it would be.” “We can talk about anything, Fletch. We’re a team, right?” “Yep, we are. So… I can sew while you drive. Just have to find something what will fit in the end—” “And fit inside us. Something not too big. How would we fill up the sack?” “Reckon we’d need something we can take on and off, something we can tie tight, so the open end of the sack need be sewed wide enough we could pour water into it.” “Or… we could leave the other end open—just enough to fill it—and then tie it with a leather or rawhide strip once it’s filled?” “Oh… that makes sense. I can picture that for sure. Then we could fix the inserting part so it can’t come loose… maybe something we can notch?” “Something like a piece of hollow bone… from a deer or such?” “Bone with the marrow boiled out of it? Yep, I reckon that would work!”

Oh my, and I had to read this just after some homemade chicken soup with rice and veggies!! Loved this and looking forward to the next...

This chapter was one of the best yet...although it could have used a ...keep a tissue handy warning!!!

Neil's bums on exhibition and the possibility of TV exposure, and the urging of others to write that opera!!! Well done!!

Thanks for this; it is amazing how many more stories I need to find the time to read. And...my heartfelt thanks to all who read mine and the other stories; it is the best payment an author can ask for.

I read this years ago and have to agree, it is a fantastic story!!

You know you write a compelling story, as evidenced by my comments!!!

No…no…don’t touch me there…twice

Or Jailhouse Blues….. Simply brilliant, watching the see ya next Tuesday witch digging a very deep hole… and loved the following

And the best place is to go to a party where everyone sits around the campfire singing kumbaya and drinking hot chocolate while making s’mores… What could possibly go wrong in lighting a match in the presence of gasoline ⛽️? I love the angst and hormonal stupidly….hopefully cooler heads will prevail…..

I too have this question and the best guess is found in the following from the prologue…is Vale the Druid who spoke to the truth of the matter…”Only wrath cloaked as justice “ He lay with one who was," Maelor replied sharply, "a man that I brought to this altar as a child." Another druid leaned forward from his seat, oak leaves braided into his white hair. "And for this you demand death?" "I demand justice." The Roman raised his head. His dark hair clung damply to his brow. "There is no justice here," he said in rough Brythonic, the words thickened by his accent. "Only wrath clothed as justice."

What did the file say, and will it change things? And is the pot calling the kettle black? His eyes stayed on mine. “How old was I, Aaron?” I looked away. He didn’t press immediately, and that was worse. “I was eighteen,” he said quietly. My jaw locked. “You were a century old.”