The Lady in White

The Lady in White

by Donald Willerton


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781938288432
Publisher: Terra Nova Books
Publication date: 06/01/2018
Series: The Mogi Franklin Mysteries
Pages: 154
Sales rank: 1,295,641
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.40(d)
Age Range: 13 - 18 Years

About the Author

Don Willerton grew up in a small town in Texas, surrounded by hundreds of square miles of open country, and the desire to wander has never left him. A successful career as a computer programmer and project manager at Los Alamos National Laboratory gave him the money and vacation time to learn how to build houses, backpack in the Rocky Mountains high country, climb mountains, snowshoe and cross-country ski, raft the rivers of the Southwest, support Christian wilderness programs, and see the excitement in his sons' eyes as they enjoyed the adventures with him.

Read an Excerpt

Mogi turned his horse towards the man in the distance, gave more rein, leaned forward slightly, and lightly touched his spurs to the horse's flanks.

The man turned and rode away, slowly at first but then at a fast lope. Mogi judged how fast to run his horse to keep up. It was surprising; usually other riders would wait for you to join them.

The country was rough but familiar. They were headed for the S curves of the Canadian River. For pushing his horse as hard as he was, Mogi had not gotten any closer but watched as the rider ahead sailed over the ground ahead of him.

It suddenly occurred to Mogi why the way the man sat on his horse seemed to be different–he had no saddle. That was strange enough but as the man drew close to the river, he had slowed to follow the winding trail and Mogi had a clearer view.


Mogi was looking at an Indian. Not an Indian like today, but from a hundred and fifty years ago. Cheesy western movies had them made up like clowns, but Mogi had seen the paintings of Remington and Russell, and this man looked like he had just stepped out of one of their pictures.

The man turned and his horse jumped to a gallop. Mogi shivered in his saddle, then spurred his horse on.

The trail was not well-traveled and not well-suited to a horse, but the man kept pushing ahead and Mogi followed as best he could.

Up, up, then to a side canyon, then up more, threading their way between boulders, outcroppings, and juniper trees. The trail was now not much more than a faint path. The Indian knew the way, still distant enough from Mogi for him to not even consider yelling or shouting at the man.

Mogi couldn't follow at the same speed and would lose sight of the man, then finish a section of the trail and find the man ahead, waiting.

Around two more curves and through a hardly-seen opening in an oak thicket, Mogi rode over a rocky ridge into a patchy forest of pine trees.

He was on top of the mesa. He had not focused on anything behind him but now looked out across the huge canyon of the wilderness. It consumed the horizon.

He brought the horse to a walk, letting him rest from the effort of the last few minutes, and looked for the man who had brought him here.

There was nothing ahead of him. The Indian on the horse was gone.

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