There are a hundred different ways to die on the Oregon Trail, as every millennial, Xer or parent of one knows. You can drown fording a river. Tangle with a rattler. Get trampled by buffalo or crushed by your own wagon. Or die– famously – of dysentery. (Cue the old computer game music.)
Murder was actually a bit of a rarity, although the battered blackmailer from wagon four of the Armstrong Overland Convoy was surely asking for it in my debut manuscript, a historical mystery dubbed “The Coppered Bet: Murder on the Oregon Trail.” It’s 1849, and reluctant newlywed pioneer Josie French is incensed. She hadn’t wanted to journey into the wilderness. She’d never intended to marry Henry, a Shakespeare-quoting blacksmith. Tripping over a corpse? The convoy was supposed to include farmers, writers, an orchardist and a milliner, for heaven’s sake, not gamblers, addicts and now, apparently, a murderer. A very violent one. And zero detectives.
When your world consists of two dozen covered wagons in the wilderness, it is not wise to let a killer run free, not when harm may come to the people Josie loves most. Now, an ever-growing crowd gathers at her campfire each night, seeking answers as well as the much-needed comfort of flaky biscuits and savory stews. But the questions swirling in the smoke of that fireside aren’t just about murder, abuse and coppered bets. They’re about home, family and what remains when you leave your world behind.
Keep tabs on the launch at MurderOnTheOregonTrail.com.
Jackie Burrell, Writer 