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    The Rockhound
    The Rockhound
    The Rockhound
    Ebook113 pages1 hour

    The Rockhound

    By K'Anne Meinel

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, especially if she Sam is a unique woman—she goes after what she wants in life, wherever it may take her.  This time she is in Southeast Asia to pan for diamonds in the islands.  It’s dirty, hot, and dangerous work, but her trip is worth it when she finds what she came for.  The adventure is great, and finding a woman who is intrigued by her is an added bonus!  Felicia joins Sam on her next trip to search for these elusive stones…but could this trip deep into the jungle be fatal for them both?gets them herself!

    Sam is a unique woman.  She goes after what she wants in life, wherever it may take her.  This time it takes her to Southeast Asia to pan for diamonds in the islands.  It’s dirty, hot, and dangerous.  Her trip is worth it though as she finds what she came for, finding a woman who is intrigued by her, the adventure, and more is just a bonus.  Felicia goes along on another trip; could it be fatal for both of them to go deep in the jungle to search for these elusive stones?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShadoe Publishing
    Release dateFeb 17, 2018
    ISBN9781386065111
    The Rockhound
    Author

    K'Anne Meinel

    K’Anne Meinel è una narratrice prolifica, autrice di best seller e vincitrice di premi. Al suo attivo ha più di un centinaio di libri pubblicati che spaziano dai racconti ai romanzi brevi e di lungo respiro. La scrittrice statunitense K’Anne è nata a Milwaukee in Wisonsin ed è cresciuta nei pressi di Oconomowoc. Diplomatasi in anticipo, ha frequentato un'università privata di Milwaukee e poi si è trasferita in California. Molti dei racconti di K’Anne sono stati elogiati per la loro autenticità, le ambientazioni dettagliate in modo esemplare e per le trame avvincenti. È stata paragonata a Danielle Steel e continua a scrivere storie affascinanti in svariati generi letterari. Per saperne di più visita il sito: www.kannemeinel.com. Continua a seguirla… non si sa mai cosa K’Anne potrebbe inventarsi!

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      Book preview

      The Rockhound - K'Anne Meinel

      Table of Contents

      THE ROCKHOUND

      ~The End~

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE ROCKHOUND

      A Novella by K’Anne Meinel

      E-Book Edition

      ––––––––

      Published by:

      K’Anne Meinel on E-Book

      Copyright © K’Anne Meinel December 2011

      2nd Edition Copyright © K’Anne Meinel February 2018

      ––––––––

      THE ROCKHOUND

      ––––––––

      E-Book Edition License Notes:

      This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

      K’Anne Meinel is available for comments at KAnneMeinel@aim.com as well as on Facebook, her blog @ http://kannemeinel.wordpress.com/ or on Twitter @ kannemeinelaim.com, or on her website @ www.kannemeinel.com if you would like to follow her to find out about stories and book’s releases or check with

      www.ShadoePublishing.com or http://ShadoePublishing.wordpress.com/.

      ––––––––

      Sam let the current take the canoe for a few minutes as she rested from fighting the path of the water.  She had been slipping up this particular section of the river for a couple of days.  Jock looked over his shoulder at her suspiciously, wondering why she had stopped paddling, then he looked around wondering if she saw something he didn’t.  It didn’t happen often, but he trusted her as she trusted him, and he was willing to go anywhere she went anyway.  The sweat was dripping off her, and she nonchalantly swiped at a mosquito but it really was useless—they came in hordes and drove a person nuts.  She had rubbed a native plant she didn’t know the name of, but Yoshi had promised it would help; it did, until the constant sweat washed it off and she had open spots for them to zoom in on.

      She looked at the jungle all around her before continuing her paddling, digging deep into the water on each side of the canoe to gain footage against the constant current.  She saw nothing beyond the luxuriant foliage, the rich greens, the dark browns and blacks.  Occasionally a monkey or other primate could be seen, but mostly she saw birds of every species she could imagine on this Southeast Asian island.  It constantly surprised her that birds she thought exclusive to one part of the world could occasionally be seen here.  She wondered if they were cousins of birds that were exclusive to other parts, but she wasn’t a bird person and didn’t know their names or species.  She could spot the parrots and other exotic birds that brought high prices back in the States.  She even had one or two that had come to her hut and let her feed them until she ran out of food for not only herself and her dog but scraps for them.  They looked at her accusingly when she had nothing to offer them.  She felt guilty for providing something for them, getting them to depend on her, but not having something when she ran out.  It was one of the many reasons that this trip was important: she needed food, she needed tools, and she was getting desperate.

      Craig Ferguson had asked, You know anything about mapping?

      She looked up from the beer she was nursing; she allowed herself one a week to make her meager monies go farther.  She nodded but didn’t answer.

      He whipped out a map and pointed to a section on it that was essentially blank.  I need to know what’s in this section from the river up to the edge of big ole sol.

      She studied the map, shaking her head.  Even with modern technology, she was amazed with how little they knew of certain parts of the world, and how it still required good old-fashioned footwork.  She got excited, though, when she realized the river section that he was pointing out and glanced up to see he knew she wanted to go there.  Well, she drawled out her Southern Louisiana accent, I could find you a section or two that way.

      He grinned, knowing she would be hooked with the offer.  He pulled out his wallet and handed her a few bills.  You’ve got two weeks, and you’ll get double this when you get back—more if you do a real good job.

      She grinned.  He knew and she knew she would do a good job.  The money meant enough for her to buy supplies; she had been down to almost nothing.  She didn’t waste time either.  She finished her beer, shook his hand, and said, See you in two weeks, taking the map with her.

      Although it was afternoon, she headed over to the village and entered the store and put in a few supplies, ordering more than she could carry right now and asking the rest be delivered to her shack.  She left, carrying a load that would put the average man to shame, but on her shoulders, she carried it effortlessly.  Years of being independent and self-sufficient had rendered her strong in mind as well as body.  She broke open the packs and repacked the supplies she had purchased when there was a knock on her door, and she opened to see the young man of fourteen smiling up at her cheerfully with a wheelbarrow behind him filled with the rest of her supplies.

      Yoshi! she said, delighted, knowing he could use the work the store sent his way: deliveries didn’t pay much, but every little bit of money helped in this poor area of the world.

      You order much, missy, he grinned, bringing in bags of supplies including rice, peas, and other staples.

      Yeah, I got a job for a few weeks.  She grinned.

      You have work for Yoshi? he asked hopefully.

      She hesitated for a moment to tease him.  I think I could find something for someone of say about your size and age.  She grinned.

      He returned the grin.  He had known if she had a job he would be the first to get it.  He had befriended her from the first time she had landed on the island, keeping her from falling for stupid gimmicks and con-jobs that some of the villagers would pull on white folks and tourists.  She even owed him for hooking her up with the shack that she lived in.  It wasn’t much, but it provided a roof over her head for her and her dog, a mongrel she had adopted who had been beaten in the village until she rescued it.  She had found out later it was the sweetest thing and loyal without question.  It had saved her from being bothered a few times when drunken men had come calling, thinking a single woman alone would welcome their attentions.  The dog and a loaded semi-automatic Glock kept them at bay and at a respectful distance.  The shack was only four walls, barely held together, but it kept the rains out, and it gave her a place to sleep.  She and the dog kept it safe.  These shacks went up all over, free rent if you built it yourself on the beach, and no one minded.  Hers was lonely on this section of beach, but it afforded her a view that she couldn’t complain about, and she liked being alone—to a degree.

      Sam hadn’t realized that coming to Southeast Asia would teach her a level of poverty that even put parts of southern Louisiana to shame.  Most of the natives, though, had no idea how poor they were, so it wasn’t like they noticed.  Coming from a moderately middle-class family, she had first been shocked and then found herself adapting rapidly.  Living like this would have shocked anyone who had known Samantha Greyson back in the States, but she had come with a purpose, and in the year she had lived here, she had learned a lot, and if she had the money she had come with, she would have gone inland and achieved her goals.  Having her place ransacked had taught her to be on alert at all times.  Fortunately, she still had her Glock, an enviable gun at all times, but especially so on these islands.  She also had the canoe she had ordered from the States:  she still laughed at the air mail pilot who had to bring it in when she ordered it.  He had been really put out getting it into his plane.  She was just glad she hadn’t ordered the larger one she had originally wanted:  it would have taken months longer, possibly years to get it shipped.  The canoe was only six feet long, kind of a modified kayak in style but aluminum and buoyant beyond anything she had seen around here, mostly homemade.  It would make the trip she would do for Ferguson easy, and with the supplies, the dog, and Yoshi, not too heavy.  That would be handy if they had to portage anywhere.

      She packed the canoe carefully, having broken everything down into smaller packets, using sealed bags for the

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