BaerFactsCoverArt72dpiTHE BAER FACTS

By Linda McMaken

Matt Baer, has just been elected the new sheriff of Sentinel, Wyoming. Matt is a man that wants to shake his past, a past that included Ben Childers – the most hated man in the county. The job should be easy in the small town —  some speeding tickets, an occasional petty theft, a few underage teenagers drinking – a pretty calm job. Yeap, Matt was all set to be a 21st century Andy Taylor in a western version of Mayberry.

Then he found himself in a deserted parking lot with a sword at his neck.

Callenda Smith – Smith? That was the creative name the U.S. Marshals had given her when she was put into the Witness Protection Program. After seeing a Congressman murdered by a Russian mobster, she and her sister were put into protective custody, and dumped in the most podunk town the marshal could find.

Russian mobsters, a scorching drought, naked dancers, and two people with very jaded and shadowed pasts find themselves targets for very different reasons. They might just survive, if they don’t kill each other first.

Baer Facts is the third and last book in the Three Baers Trilogy. This is Matt’s story and what an intriguing story he has. The lady that wraps her heart around his, is a Cajun gypsy, full of fire. Like Matt, she has a past the is shadowed in grief, and loss.

Of course, this is Sentinel, Wyoming, and things just have a way of going a bit astray of normal here.



Matt’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID  –  Rodney Burris, his newly appointed, and only, deputy.

“Yes, Rodney,” he answered.

“Hey boss. Sorry for calling ya so late, but I got a situation here.” Rodney’s voice was low, and he spoke way slower than normal. Slow talking for Rodney was panic in anyone else.

“What’s going on?” Matt put on his cowboy hat that sported his sheriff’s badge, snatched his keys, and headed toward the door.

“Well, it seems, sheriff, that well….” his voice trailed off.

“Rodney, what the hell is going on, and where are you?” He twisted the door knob, making sure the office was locked on his way out.Letter C

“There’s a burglar holed up in the barn at Phillip Parsons’ place. I got him trapped, and I need to know if I can shoot him?” His voice registered way too high.

“What? No, no,” Matt sprinted toward the truck, “don’t shoot anyone. I’m on my way.”

“But I should shoot them before they get away.” Rodney sounded disappointed. “I mean they might head on out the back door.”

Matt started the engine, jammed the truck into gear, and screeched tires down the street. “No. Do not shoot anyone. Do you understand me?” The seat belt dinger went off. He reached for the belt almost running the truck into the ditch. That would be a great headline in the Sentinel Gazette, new sheriff ditches police truck – not wearing seatbelt. Most of the county didn’t like him anyway. To them he was still “Ben Childers’ son”, and they all unanimously hated that man.

Rodney, sighed. It sounded like a crank heavy-breather caller. “Can’t I just aim to scare him a bit?”

Ding! Ding! “No, just stand there.” Ding went the seatbelt warning.

“What if they try to run? Can I shoot them then?” The breathing stopped echoing in the phone.

The man was sure adamant about using his weapon. What had the burglar done to warrant such anger? “Rodney, exactly what did this person steal?” He aimed the car down a dirt road toward the Parsons’ ranch.

“Let’s see,” he heard paper rustling. “One bag of apples, two packs of chewing gum, and Mr. Parsons’ genuine gold-plated Member of the Year Rotary trophy.”

What kind of a thief steals chewing gum? “What?” He wondered if he’d heard him correctly.

Rodney repeated the list, slower this time.

“So, can I shoot him?”

“No.” Matt felt a pain strike right between his eyes. “I will be there in three minutes, less if I can make this truck go faster.” He shut the cell phone, snapped his headlights on high-beam, and raced down the road.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to face in that barn, but how bad could a burglar really be if they stole food? Parsons was an avid hunter and gun-collector. If the thief didn’t steal any guns, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t get killed tonight.

A gorgeous sword toting woman, a chewing gum and trophy thief, yes sir, he was seriously reconsidering his career choice.


(I will be giving away a copy of Baer Facts to one lucky commentor!)



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