Spirit Ranch: Prequel to The New Witch First book in the Broussard Court Series (1)

SPIRITS SURROUND US ALL, AND IT'S UP TO US TO LISTEN TO WHAT THEY ARE TELLING US-WHERE TO GO AND WHAT TO DO...

From the bayous of south Louisiana to the arid hills of Arizona, they follow us. Or maybe they beat us there. We can do nothing except listen and obey.

Deep in the swamps of south Louisiana, a young girl is guided by the spirits of her ancestors. When she is older, she is trained in the mystical arts by Madame, whose powers are known to all of New Orleans. She will need it all when she is called to work at Spirit Ranch, especially when young Bill arrives. The spirits have a job for him, working with a survivor of childhood abuse trying to fit into today's world.

With a college degree and not much else, young Bill sets out to see the country, hopping onto boxcars headed south and west. The challenges are many and the danger real, but the spirits have a job for him to do, and he squeaks by harrowing situations on the way to where he ought to be. When he is arrested and thrown in jail for being a vagrant, he learns of a ranch that often has job openings. "You'll get the job," Maxine tells him at the gate. And she ought to know. She knows everything. Before it happens.

Excerpt

Now that I was actually there, I felt stupid.

When I confess to never actually riding a horse, they're going to think I'm retarded.

I tapped Juan, the cabbie, on the shoulder. "I think I'd better go back to town."

He turned around and grinned. "Hey, you're here. You might as well ask them for a job. What are they going to do, shoot you?"

I sighed. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

We drove down the long dusty road, past the stables, up to the ranch house. I paid Juan. "If I give you three extra bucks, will you wait five minutes? I'll either come to get my duffle bag or leave with it."

"Sure, I need a siesta."

"Thanks, Juan, you've been a big help!"

I looked up and saw a lady standing in front of the taxi, wearing a tan blouse and a peasant skirt. She was small, perhaps five-two, shiny black hair, olive complexion, thirty-five. Smiling. I assumed she knew Juan. I got out of the cab and walked toward her.

She said, "Don't worry, you'll get the job."

I was about to say, "What job?" when she took my arm.

"Come on, I'll take you to the office. The owner's name is Danny. He'll be sure glad to see you."

"I think you've made a mistake. I'm not the person Danny's looking for."

"Of course, you are."