AN OUTLAW IN WONDERLAND
Once Upon a Time in the West, Book #2
By Lori Austin
Signet Eclipse Paperback
ISBN-13: 978-0451239525
$7.99 U.S. / $8.99www.LoriAustin.net
Synopsis:
In a time of war, love has its own rewards…
Ethan’s one passion is saving lives, and if he can do that by helping to end the war, he will—even if it means spying for the North. He’s gotten used to fooling Confederates, but he can't bear lying to Annabeth. And together, they are about to discover a new passion—one that could even transcend the chaos of war. .
My Review: (No spoilers
included)
In this title, it’s told in two parts; part one takes place during the Civil War (and before the story in Beauty and the Bounty Hunter takes place), and part two is told from Ethan Walsh and Annabeth Phelan Walsh’s POV after the war has ended. Ethan is a support character in Beauty and the Bounty Hunter and I’m excited to read his story and meet his female counterpart – Annabeth. It also answers questions one may have after reading Beauty and the Bounty Hunter.
Both Annabeth and Ethan have their weaknesses, but in the end, their strengths shine through. The romance element developed early on in the story and it was refreshing to see that not every love story ends at “And they lived happily ever after.” The story doesn’t ever truly end there, it goes on and we get to see this couple experience real life. The ups, downs and even sideways that get thrown at us.
As with all Miss Austin’s novels, this one was very well written and I can’t wait for the next installment of this series.
Read on for a special exerpt of this title:
"AN OUTLAW IN WONDERLAND
Chimborazo Hospital-Richmond, VA
1864
The intelligence on the Confederate Ranger Mosby
led to Major Forbes being dispatched from Falls Church
with one hundred and fifty Union men in pursuit of the
partisans, which resulted in one hundred and six Union
losses—twelve dead, thirty-seven wounded, and fiftyseven
captured.
Mosby lost six men. Six.
Still, the information had been valuable enough to
attract the attention of General Grant, who had given a
commendation to Ethan through his superior John Law.
Men like you will win us this war.
Ethan only hoped it was soon. Each day brought
more wounded, each night more dead. Ethan listened,
looked, lurked, and discovered several more bits of
information for Mikey. The last time they’d met, his
brother related Law’s newest plot to end the war.
“Losin’ their leaders can make men retreat before
they even start,” Mikey said. “If we know where the
battle’s gonna be, me and the sniper will get there first.
He’ll eliminate the officers.”
AN OUTLAW IN WOLORI AUSTIN
5
Ethan winced as if he’d heard the shots, but he
couldn’t argue with Law’s logic. The removal of a few
top men might, in the end, save the lives of many.
The sole bright spot in each day was Annabeth
Phelan, and considering that Ethan saw her only across
the bloody, broken bodies of young men, he shouldn’t
be so happy about it. However, his work was much
easier now that she was part of it. She was intelligent,
skilled, and devoted. He felt less alone every minute she
was near.
He’d taken to thinking of her as Beth in his mind,
though he hadn’t yet had the courage to call her so
aloud. Would she think he was forward and crass? Or
would she like it?
Ethan stepped from the surgery, then stood blinking
at the sky. While buried in blood, he forgot how bright
the stars were, how green the grass, how exquisite the
flowers. As he lowered his gaze, he saw Miss
Phelan—Beth, his mind whispered—speaking to a man
he didn’t recognize. Not that such was unusual. There
were so many people at Chimborazo—personnel,
patients, soldiers—in truth, he hardly knew any.
But there was something about this one that made
Ethan uneasy. He kept his cap drawn low and his face
tilted so shadows obscured his features. His clothes
were baggy, dirty, and nondescript. Of course, at this
point in the war, whose weren’t? Everyone made do
with what they had, found, or stole. Still, Ethan had
learned enough since becoming a spy to suspect that
anyone trying that hard to appear like everyone else
wasn’t.
He took a step in that direction, and the man
murmured to Annabeth, ducked his head, and strode
away. Ethan might have followed, perhaps called out,
but she turned, and the moon cast a bluish hue across
her open, honest, innocent face. She wasn’t beautiful,
perhaps not even pretty, but when she smiled at him, all
Ethan saw was her.
“Was there something you needed, Doctor?”
You, his mind whispered.
“Not at the moment,” he said, lifting his gaze to
seek out the fellow she’d spoken with and determine
where he’d gone.
Except he was gone. Considering all that lay before
them was a long, flat expanse that led nowhere, Ethan’s
neck prickled.
“Who was that ye were talkin’ to?”
“A friend from childhood.”
An unreasoning jealousy overcame him. She, no
doubt, had friends all over this camp, all over this state.
He wanted to be her friend.
Liar. He wanted to be so much more.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Her lips curved. “I have you.”
He wanted her to have him, while he had her. His
attraction for Annabeth Phelan was all consuming. He
dreamed of her throughout the endless nights.
“Not all men are like me.”
“None of them are.”
She didn’t know how right she was, and she never
could.
“I’ll walk ye to yer quarters.”
She nodded and led him back the way he had come,
past the surgery, in the opposite direction. He forgot
about her friend—where he’d gone, who he was, and
why, if he was a friend, he’d disappeared instead of
shaking hands and introducing himself. It was only later
Ethan thought of such things.
They didn’t speak; they didn’t touch, and that was
all right. Whenever Ethan was with her, pretty much
everything was.
“Here we are,” she murmured.
Ethan had no excuse for what he did next. She
wasn’t his; she couldn’t be. Yet when she lifted her
face, he kissed her. Nothing was ever the same again.
She did not gasp; she did not cry out or push him
away. She did not even stiffen; though he did. Down
low, where such things occurred, he came immediately
to rigid, relentless, and ready life.
He’d said she shouldn’t be out alone because not all
men were like him. But the way he felt now, he was
very like the men he’d warned her about. He wanted to
shove her against the wall right here, or perhaps drag
her between the buildings over there. Haul up her skirts,
skim a finger over the soft skin where thigh became
buttock, fill his palms with that flesh as she gasped into
his mouth, as she whispered his name.
“Ethan.”
As she whispered it now, against his lips, their
breath mingling. They stood so close, she would have
felt the brush of his erection if not for the barrier of her
skirts and crinoline. Then she would have been
screaming, pushing, pointing. Telling him and everyone
who would listen what he had done, how he had dared.
He would find himself married to her by tomorrow, and
that would be—
Her tongue touched his. How could she help it? His
had somehow made its way into her mouth, and she
tasted of dawn. Of new days and hope. Of sunshine
pushing through darkness. Of life. And Ethan
thought . . .
If he found himself married to her tomorrow,
perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.
In the distance, cannons sounded, reminding him
who he was, why he was here. He couldn’t marry her
while living a lie. He shouldn’t kiss her while living one
either.
Ethan stepped back. Her mouth glistened in the
moonlight. Her tongue peeked out, as if she wanted to
taste him again. He certainly wanted to taste her.
“Beth, I . . .” he began, uncertain what he meant to
say, to do.
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry!”
He snapped his mouth shut as she spun and went
into the building. The slam of the door echoed almost as
loudly as the artillery.
Had he meant to say that? Probably. It was what
men like him did with women like her in situations
like—
He glanced around. This situation was not one for
which any etiquette existed. He was a physician with
the blood of men—no, the blood of boys—beneath his
fingernails. She was a nurse who no doubt had the same
blood in the same place. They were not in a drawing
room preparing to dance. The only music was that
distant rumble of guns.
Yes, kissing her had been inappropriate.
But here . . .
What wasn’t?"
Chimborazo Hospital-Richmond, VA
1864
The intelligence on the Confederate Ranger Mosby
led to Major Forbes being dispatched from Falls Church
with one hundred and fifty Union men in pursuit of the
partisans, which resulted in one hundred and six Union
losses—twelve dead, thirty-seven wounded, and fiftyseven
captured.
Mosby lost six men. Six.
Still, the information had been valuable enough to
attract the attention of General Grant, who had given a
commendation to Ethan through his superior John Law.
Men like you will win us this war.
Ethan only hoped it was soon. Each day brought
more wounded, each night more dead. Ethan listened,
looked, lurked, and discovered several more bits of
information for Mikey. The last time they’d met, his
brother related Law’s newest plot to end the war.
“Losin’ their leaders can make men retreat before
they even start,” Mikey said. “If we know where the
battle’s gonna be, me and the sniper will get there first.
He’ll eliminate the officers.”
AN OUTLAW IN WOLORI AUSTIN
5
Ethan winced as if he’d heard the shots, but he
couldn’t argue with Law’s logic. The removal of a few
top men might, in the end, save the lives of many.
The sole bright spot in each day was Annabeth
Phelan, and considering that Ethan saw her only across
the bloody, broken bodies of young men, he shouldn’t
be so happy about it. However, his work was much
easier now that she was part of it. She was intelligent,
skilled, and devoted. He felt less alone every minute she
was near.
He’d taken to thinking of her as Beth in his mind,
though he hadn’t yet had the courage to call her so
aloud. Would she think he was forward and crass? Or
would she like it?
Ethan stepped from the surgery, then stood blinking
at the sky. While buried in blood, he forgot how bright
the stars were, how green the grass, how exquisite the
flowers. As he lowered his gaze, he saw Miss
Phelan—Beth, his mind whispered—speaking to a man
he didn’t recognize. Not that such was unusual. There
were so many people at Chimborazo—personnel,
patients, soldiers—in truth, he hardly knew any.
But there was something about this one that made
Ethan uneasy. He kept his cap drawn low and his face
tilted so shadows obscured his features. His clothes
were baggy, dirty, and nondescript. Of course, at this
point in the war, whose weren’t? Everyone made do
with what they had, found, or stole. Still, Ethan had
learned enough since becoming a spy to suspect that
anyone trying that hard to appear like everyone else
wasn’t.
He took a step in that direction, and the man
murmured to Annabeth, ducked his head, and strode
away. Ethan might have followed, perhaps called out,
but she turned, and the moon cast a bluish hue across
her open, honest, innocent face. She wasn’t beautiful,
perhaps not even pretty, but when she smiled at him, all
Ethan saw was her.
“Was there something you needed, Doctor?”
You, his mind whispered.
“Not at the moment,” he said, lifting his gaze to
seek out the fellow she’d spoken with and determine
where he’d gone.
Except he was gone. Considering all that lay before
them was a long, flat expanse that led nowhere, Ethan’s
neck prickled.
“Who was that ye were talkin’ to?”
“A friend from childhood.”
An unreasoning jealousy overcame him. She, no
doubt, had friends all over this camp, all over this state.
He wanted to be her friend.
Liar. He wanted to be so much more.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Her lips curved. “I have you.”
He wanted her to have him, while he had her. His
attraction for Annabeth Phelan was all consuming. He
dreamed of her throughout the endless nights.
“Not all men are like me.”
“None of them are.”
She didn’t know how right she was, and she never
could.
“I’ll walk ye to yer quarters.”
She nodded and led him back the way he had come,
past the surgery, in the opposite direction. He forgot
about her friend—where he’d gone, who he was, and
why, if he was a friend, he’d disappeared instead of
shaking hands and introducing himself. It was only later
Ethan thought of such things.
They didn’t speak; they didn’t touch, and that was
all right. Whenever Ethan was with her, pretty much
everything was.
“Here we are,” she murmured.
Ethan had no excuse for what he did next. She
wasn’t his; she couldn’t be. Yet when she lifted her
face, he kissed her. Nothing was ever the same again.
She did not gasp; she did not cry out or push him
away. She did not even stiffen; though he did. Down
low, where such things occurred, he came immediately
to rigid, relentless, and ready life.
He’d said she shouldn’t be out alone because not all
men were like him. But the way he felt now, he was
very like the men he’d warned her about. He wanted to
shove her against the wall right here, or perhaps drag
her between the buildings over there. Haul up her skirts,
skim a finger over the soft skin where thigh became
buttock, fill his palms with that flesh as she gasped into
his mouth, as she whispered his name.
“Ethan.”
As she whispered it now, against his lips, their
breath mingling. They stood so close, she would have
felt the brush of his erection if not for the barrier of her
skirts and crinoline. Then she would have been
screaming, pushing, pointing. Telling him and everyone
who would listen what he had done, how he had dared.
He would find himself married to her by tomorrow, and
that would be—
Her tongue touched his. How could she help it? His
had somehow made its way into her mouth, and she
tasted of dawn. Of new days and hope. Of sunshine
pushing through darkness. Of life. And Ethan
thought . . .
If he found himself married to her tomorrow,
perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.
In the distance, cannons sounded, reminding him
who he was, why he was here. He couldn’t marry her
while living a lie. He shouldn’t kiss her while living one
either.
Ethan stepped back. Her mouth glistened in the
moonlight. Her tongue peeked out, as if she wanted to
taste him again. He certainly wanted to taste her.
“Beth, I . . .” he began, uncertain what he meant to
say, to do.
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry!”
He snapped his mouth shut as she spun and went
into the building. The slam of the door echoed almost as
loudly as the artillery.
Had he meant to say that? Probably. It was what
men like him did with women like her in situations
like—
He glanced around. This situation was not one for
which any etiquette existed. He was a physician with
the blood of men—no, the blood of boys—beneath his
fingernails. She was a nurse who no doubt had the same
blood in the same place. They were not in a drawing
room preparing to dance. The only music was that
distant rumble of guns.
Yes, kissing her had been inappropriate.
But here . . .
What wasn’t?"
