By William W. Johnstone
An epic saga of the O'Briens, father Shamus and his sons Shawn, Patrick, Jacob, and Samuel, homesteaders combating to outlive the untamed Western wilderness... A USA Today bestselling writer whose novels ring with authenticity and power... an exciting experience around the border of Mexico—up opposed to an enemy extra strong and lethal than any the O'Briens might ever envision...
New Mexico Territory is not any stranger to undesirable males. yet south of the border, at the wild Mexican beach, is one other form of depraved: a murderous Arab with a boat jam-packed with stolen women—to be bought as intercourse slaves within the 4 corners of the realm. between them is a lacking neighborhood university instructor Shawn O'Brien has been looking for—a girl with a earlier she's saved rigorously hidden. Now Shawn, besides a half-mad undergo hunter and a pro hangman struggle their solution to the coast for a blood-soaked conflict among the slavers and the U.S. military. whilst the motion runs aground, O'Brien will get his likelihood: to stand down an Arab sheik who earnings from human misery... and makes a game of slaughter...
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Additional resources for A Time to Slaughter (The Brothers O'Brien, Book 4)
A moment later another of the women who had been standing in midriver tried to shoot a photo. Her hat fell off. The current instantly propelled it downstream. Little Christine scrambled across the flow to retrieve the dropped hat. Instantly, the river gripped her and carried her toward the waterfall. Within seconds, Yolanda, Christine’s mother, began stumbling down the river to chase down Christine. She too lost her footing and was swept helplessly toward the brink. As witnesses behind the guardrail and others safely dotting the shoreline watched in horror, the Merced swept the lost hat over Vernal Fall.
We had stopped for a breather. So far this was simply an exceptionally chilly winter scene at a world-class waterfall in a World Heritage Site at a moment when Yosemite seemed to be hibernating, holding its breath as it were, in somnolent waiting for the spring thaw to bring everything roaring back into life. Well, somnolent except for that troop of Boy Scouts cavorting like idiot clowns on the frozen surface of the Merced only yards away from the lip of the falls... What the heck could they be thinking, anyway?
Becker watched the slipping, sliding Boy Scout guardian as he: —knelt down and grabbed his [the Boy Scout’s] hood as he shot out and pulled him onto the ice. Becker stood there both dumbfounded and relieved: In retrospect, I’m amazed that they both did not go over. The kid was waterlogged but not injured. They pulled off his pants to dry him off, and his pants froze upright in about thirty seconds. The whole incident [under the ice] lasted about ten seconds in total, and everyone acted like it was no big deal.