Tag Archives: Scott Bell

‘Yeager’s Law,’ by Scott Bell

Since I enjoyed Scott Bell’s Sam Cable novels so much, I figured I’d try his Abel Yeager series as well. I did enjoy Yeager’s Law, though I’m less wholehearted in recommending it to you.

Abel Yeager is an independent Texas trucker, down on his luck and scrambling for loads. When somebody tries to hijack his truck at a rest stop near St. Louis, things escalate quickly. Turns out a simple hijacking isn’t the object – somebody wants to kill him. Only the unlikely appearance of “Charlie” Buchanan (a beautiful woman) with a big handgun saves his life. She’s a Texan too, and a bookstore owner. He gives her his card, and not long after that she calls him to ask him to pick up a couple pallets of books from a distributor. Neither of them know that her sleazy ex-husband has concealed a large sum of drug cartel cash among the books. Even worse, he’s trying to double-cross the cartel, which puts Sam and Charlie right in the crosshairs.

Fortunately, Abel is no ordinary trucker. He’s a seasoned combat veteran from Afghanistan, an experienced and ruthless hunter of men when he needs to be.

The story goes on into kidnapping, torture, and big gunfights and explosions.

As you’re aware, I’m a timid soul, and my taste for extreme violence has faded. I enjoyed the book mainly for the developing romance between Abel and Charlie, and for the camaraderie Abel shares with the old army buddies who come to back him up. Also the fact that Abel is a genuine working-class hero, something you don’t see often.

This book was a little rougher than the Sam Cable books. There’s a romantic sex scene, and also several rapes. Some of it got a little more explicit than I care for. As in so many thrillers, the main characters’ survival depends on sheer luck in a couple places, which always gives me pause.

Recommended with reservations.

‘June Bug,’ by Scott Bell

The air lay as heavy as a quilt soaked in used engine oil.

The third book in Scott Bell’s Sam Cable series, about a tall Texas Ranger with a remarkable capacity for absorbing physical trauma, including gunshot wounds, is June Bug. There are only three books in the series so far, but the author’s Afterword says he’s planning more. I look forward to them.

FBI agent Rita Goldman is the first to guess that a group of Chechen terrorists are planning a bioweapon attack on the US. This takes her back to Texas, where she is reunited with Sam, with whom she has a whole lot of sexual chemistry, though they’ve been hands-off so far. Memories of Covid are naturally recalled, but what they’re dealing with here is a lot more virulent and frightening than that. And this is not the kind of story where the Rangers save the day before a lot of civilians get hurt.

But worse is to come, if Rita and Sam can’t stop the ringleaders before they get on a plane. And that will be difficult once they’ve both been captured and tied up for use as hostages.

But don’t count them out.

I enjoyed June Bug, though it concentrated more on action than I prefer. I personally would have enjoyed a few more relaxed moments; I like the main characters’ back-and-forth. And the trope by which the hero keeps suffering disabling injuries but just continues on duty and fighting is overused in thrillers (in my opinion).

Still, Scott Bell is a good writer, and I like the characters, and the dramatic tension never flags. I didn’t like June Bug as much as the previous two books, but I liked it fine anyway. The stories feature conservative dog-whistles too (in my opinion).

Cautions for rough language and intense situations.

‘May Day,’ by Scott Bell

“Please, God,” I said to myself, “don’t kill us today. I’d rather not go out like this, if it’s all the same to you, but if that’s your will, at least don’t let me pee myself.”

Couldn’t resist immediately picking up the second book in Scott Bell’s Sam Cable series, about a modern Texas Ranger.

As May Day opens, our hero, fully vindicated in respect to the criminal charges he faced in April’s Fool, is sent to California in a state-owned small airplane (which Cable hates), to pick up a fugitive in custody. This is a young woman, Jade Stone, accused of stabbing a man to death. About the time somebody shoots their plane out of the sky over New Mexico, he begins to suspect that this woman may be telling the truth when she says she was set up.

The story then becomes a wilderness cat and mouse tale, as Cable, Jade, and their injured pilot attempt to evade a crew of rogue federal agents. It won’t be a surprise to the reader that Jade Stone is gorgeous, and increasingly drawn to Cable – but she’s a fascinating character in her own right, and provides a very well-done plot twist toward the end.

Wilderness chase stories are not my favorite kind of fiction, but Sam Cable remains an appealing character, and the dramatic tension ran high. I judge that Cable came out lucky in a few too may close calls, but that’s common in the genre. I certainly enjoyed May Day, and I recommend it.

Cautions for violence, rough language, and a sex scene.

A medicine for melancholy

Photo credit: weston m, shootnmatch. Unsplash license.

Beautiful day in Robbinsdale; the first really beautiful day of the year. The temperature soared to 70 degrees. Tomorrow will only be 45, and Friday colder yet, but still. It happened. We had a nice day. Means a lot in Minnesota.

I went to see my doctor this morning, to have him look at a small infection in one of my fingers. It wasn’t swollen to the size of a Hostess Twinkie, and it didn’t hurt all that much, but it just wouldn’t heal up. I’ve tolerated it for about a month, faithfully feeding it Neosporin and re-bandaging it twice a day, but it refuses to take the hint. So, shame-faced, feeling like a sissy, I went to see my personal physician. I fully expected him to sneer and tell me to rub some dirt on it, but he dutifully prescribed an antibiotic.

Now I’m waiting for the prescription. I am, to tell the truth, growing disillusioned with Walgreens. The last prescription my doctor sent them sat unfilled for a week, until I went in personally and requested an explanation. (They needed my new insurance information as it turned out, but they might have – you know – sent me a message informing me of the problem.) Now I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to go in and hold them up for my Miracle Bread Mold. I remember an old gag from Al Capp’s Li’l Abner comic strip, where somebody wanders into the Dogpatch post office and asks if there’s any mail for him, and the postmaster drawls, “Well, looky here – Ah got this Speshul Dee-livery letter fer yuh 20 years ago. Ah been meanin’ to drop it off next time I was in your neck o’ the woods.” Walgreens seems to have adopted a similar policy for prescriptions.

That wasn’t even what I meant to post about tonight.

I wanted to talk a little more about April’s Fool by Scott Bell, the delightful cop novel I reviewed last night. When I ask myself, what made it so much fun? the answer was easy – the hero was cheerful.

You realize how rare cheerful main characters are in today’s fiction?

Now I’m not exactly a world ambassador for happiness. I’m known, among my constantly shrinking circle of friends, as the Ancient Mariner at every wedding, the Banquo at every feast.

But I am not immune to the charm of a cheerful voice. I can’t produce the effect, but I can respond to it.

We have a highly false stereotype in literature, it seems to me, that says happiness equals shallowness (I blame the Russians). Anyone who acquires a teaspoon full of wisdom, our stories proclaim, must necessarily be plunged into despair.

Several of the police mystery series I follow – and enjoy – have heroes that blur together in my memory. I can’t distinguish one from the other, because they all have the same back story. Every bloody one of them is mourning the death of a beloved wife. He has never gotten over it, and he obsesses on his job to mask his grief.

I’m not saying it’s entirely unrealistic. But it’s become a trope.

Life, you’ll note, isn’t like that. Aren’t the best leaders people who know how to raise other people’s spirits? Aren’t optimistic people more likely to succeed than pessimists (such as I)?

If we want to be realistic as writers, shouldn’t most of our heroes (unless we’re writing tragedy) be optimists?

I think this qualifies as testimony against interest, so you should pay attention.

‘April’s Fool,’ by Scott Bell

The captain lived in his car, ate takeout food every meal, smoked more than a creosote brushfire, and had his admin print all his emails rather than learn how to use a PC. Dinosaurs were more progressive than Captain Marshall.

One of the delights of being a reader is discovering books that are just fun. I’d never heard of Scott Bell (not to be confused with James Scott Bell, another excellent author), but it seems I’ve been missing something. April’s Fool is the first volume in a series starring contemporary Texas Ranger Sam Cable.

Sam has drawn the unwelcome job of providing personal security for a senate candidate. The candidate is a black woman with a chip on her shoulder, who delights in testing his patience. He disliked her, but hardly wanted her dead. So when he wakes up in her hotel room naked, lying next to her strangled corpse, he is completely unable to account for his actions.

Thanks to his commander’s support, he manages to stay out of jail – for the present. His orders are to lay low and let his colleagues investigate, but (of course) that’s not Sam’s way. He pokes into the candidate’s past and her present associations. Along the way he’ll form an alliance with a diminutive female FBI forensic accountant, and they’ll prove a formidable team.

April’s Fool featured many delights. The writing was sharp, in a brightly hardboiled way:

I was not in a good place. The sofa wouldn’t stop an angry fly, let alone a bullet, and it wouldn’t hide anyone bigger than Goldman. I felt like a cartoon bear hiding behind a pine tree.

Also the characters were vivid, and the dialogue often funny. This wasn’t exactly a comic novel, but Sam Cable is an ebullient personality who keeps his sense of humor most of the time. He’s easy to like. Racial issues are dealt with in what I considered an evenhanded way. All references to Christianity were respectful.

Highly recommended, with cautions for adult subject matter.