The Shannon Trilogy Page


A RECKONING FOR KINGS,
A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY, 
THE WARS OF THE SHANNONS


ALL THREE BOOKS REPUBLISHED
IN BRAND NEW EDITIONS!

See Below For Links To:
A Reckoning For Kings - A Novel Of Vietnam
A Daughter Of Liberty 
The Wars Of The Shannons


NEW EDITION OF A RECKONING FOR KINGS
BOOK #1 OF THE SHANNON TRILOLGY

NEW TRADE PAPERBACKBook -E-Book Kindle Edition - Nookbook -Google E-book - Audio Book (Coming Soon)

FOR SHANNON, WHAT had started as a keep-in-touch-with-the-grunts-in-the-field exercise in mild fear had become stark terror.

Unconsciously, he was sliding back from the hillcrest. But his binoculars, hands curled around the lenses to prevent light-flash, were still sweeping the river crossing below the knoll.

Oh, my lord, Shannon thought. NVAs.

Watch the way they move. Very slinky. Rhythm. Right. Now the team with the RPD will go right, provide perimeter security. Now we should see the command group. World of shit.

Shannon counted what was a full North Vietnamese regular company pour across the river below him and realized that in the next few minutes he was about to die.

NEW EDITION OF A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY
Book #2 Of The Shannon Trilogy



... DIANA WAS OUT OF BED, reaching for the pistol before she realized what had awakened her. It came again. The crash of the fort's cannon.

"Get up," she shouted. "To the cellar." Her fingers needed no instructions. The pistol was cocked, powder poured from the small horn into the pan, and the weapon put down to half cock while she watched the flurry from Ruth and her two children. She turned to the loft— and saw and heard nothing. She was at the top of the ladder. Brian and Farrell were gone. As were their coats, which should have hung behind the kitchen door.

Ruth was starting to keen in panic. There wasn't time. She jerked the woman toward the door and told Samuel to get everyone into the cellar. Load the rifle and shotgun. Kill anybody who opened the trap. She pulled her coat around her shoulders and was almost out the door. No. You won't save anyone if your feet freeze. She forced them into boots, then grabbed the pouch with pistol balls and powder horn. Then out the door.

She couldn't find any footprints in the muck. A thick fog hampered her search. Think, woman. The creek? It was one of their favorite playgrounds, although what they could be doing at this hour of the morning was unknown. But both of them of late had been behaving like there was some great secret. Maybe the creek. She could think of no other possibilities. The creek was nearly in the middle of Cherry Valley—in the same direction the screams and battle sounds came from.


NEW EDITION OF THE WARS OF THE SHANNONS

BOOK #3 OF THE SHANNON TRILOGY.

New Trade PaperbackE-Book Kindle Edition - Nookbook - Google E-book - Audio Book (Coming Soon)

Patrick aimed... hearing down the line the SNAPCRACK ripple of other muskets going off, and the holler came with it, the high-pitched ululation some said came from hogcalling but nobody knew for sure, and all Patrick knew was it scared him to the marrow, so he knew it’d have to set a Yankee back.

The musket surged against his shoulder, and he realized he’d fired, no idea if he’d put the ball into the gunport as Billy had suggested or maybe let it go at the moon. He couldn’t have missed, could he?

The damned gunboat was even closer now. He couldn’t hear much, and was fumbling to reload, and Billy was pulling the musket away, shouting about givin’ somebody else a chance, and he slid back down the slope as the cannon muzzle came back out the port, fresh-loaded, and again the gates of hell opened. He heard screams, and they weren’t battle cries.

Smoke from the cannon fire rose around the gunboat, and down Forrest’s battleline. Patrick saw men muscle the little sixpounders up, and they cracked/cracked/cracked and Patrick saw wood splinter and fly, and saw men shout and fall on the Conestoga.

Then Billy had shot and it was his turn, and he loaded, and aimed, and was hollering as loud as anybody, and by heaven this time his musketball did go through the port, he knew it did, and Billy was shouting as loud as he was, a shriek of "damnyoudamnyoudamnyou... "

He couldn’t have heard, his eyes must have told his ears to respond to something, but he thought he heard the Conestoga’s engines chuffing louder. Certainly he saw one side-wheel churn water, and the Federal gunboat was turning, back the way it had come.

They’d won! A handful of men with muskets, and a few little cannon had driven off the Terror of the Cumberland. Why hell. He heard cheers.

Damn. 

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