Nationally Popular Playwright Gary Ray Stapp Introduces TRESPASSERS His Debut Novel

A Cross-Genre adventure

Western, Time Travel, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Romance, Coming-of-Age

AMAZON REVIEWS

  • Page Turner

    Trespassers is a page turner, for sure. I couldn't stop reading. I liked the protagonists and disliked the antagonists as I expected. What I didn't expect is how much the Kansas-born writer made setting became a character too. Actually, there were unexpected events at every point. The book is long but I never contemplated skipping a few pages. I was afraid I might miss something important. And I was right. Wow! Kidzwriter November 23, 2024

  • As if I am "there"

    What a great book. The depth of the characters brought everything to life. There are friendships, family, romance, betrayal, forgiveness, compassion, suspense, and of course, time travel. I was transported back in time and felt like I was right there on the edge looking into what was taking place. I love when a writer can make me feel as if I am “there”. Jerry Darling November 17, 2024Verified Purchase

  • A Western like No Other

    I was hooked after reading the prologue. Intrigue, suspense, emotion & humor are all weaved into this story. The theme of compassion & forgiveness is a big part of “Trespassers”. The author does an amazing job of using time travel & some SciFy to create a Western like no other. I also enjoyed all the landmarks, locations & descriptions for the setting of this story, as I too grew up on the plains of Kansas. Cynthia R. Lewis October 25, 2024

  • Intriguing!!

    Trespassers had me in it's grasp from the very beginning. I could envision each character and the scenarios they found themselves in. There were several unexpected and surprising twists. It kept me totally engrossed from beginning to end. Gwin Ellison December 17, 2024Verified Purchase

  • Difficult to Put Down

    I enjoyed Trespassers very much! The writer makes the characters come alive. The relationships really hit home: You cry with them, laugh with them, and most definitely are surprised with them! I am not really a SCIFI kinda gal, but found Trespassers to be SO MUCH MORE than that. A very clever addition, certainly, but by no means the MAIN precept. If you choose to purchase, you won't be disappointed! Kssnflower October 15, 2024

  • Refreshing

    TRESPASSERS is such a compilation of genres; you're bound to find one you like. I'm a reader, but seldom have I picked up a 600+ page book on purpose. I didn't skip a page! The setting was like home; the characters, like family (some you don't want to claim); the suspense continuous with often surprising results. Through all the turmoil and strife, it is refreshing to find caring, kindness, loyalty, creativity and faith in this wonderfully written book. Lenora Rundus January 9, 2025

  • This Story has it All!

    Loved reading this genre crossing story that had me hooked from the first few pages. The author developed a group of very interesting characters with many levels. Something for everyone. Plenty of surprises along the way. Couldn't put it down. Steven Taton February 21, 2025Verified Purchase

  • Twists & Turns

    He (author) is extremely talented and this first novel is proof. It is a page turner from beginning to end. It keeps your mind busy with the twists and turns. I loved it and I am ready to read his next novel! Debbie Poire February 12, 2025Verified Purchase

  • You've got to be Kidding me!

    Gary’s characters come to life—and you’ll want to like them. But, some are like: “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I am not a person that does much reading, especially a complete story from start to finish. It (Trespassers) has awakened a new desire in me to spend more time reading. If you’re an avid reader, what are you waiting for? Check out “Trespassers” today…and enjoy! MacBrian November 12, 2024

  • Very Unpredictable

    The characters were very believable and the plot twists were very surprising. It was great the way the author brought the story together in the end - very unpredictable but believable. I would give the story five stars and recommend it as a good read. Dennis RDecember 30, 2024

  • How Wrong I Was

    Wow! Mystery, betrayal, romance, friendship and forgiveness. A little bit of science fiction to keep you interested. I thought I knew what was going to happen next in the book but, oh how wrong I was. Sue SNovember 6, 2024

  • Great Book

    This is a great book. Never quite new what to expect to happen next! Sandra Byarlay November 4, 2024


Saddle Up and let TRESPASSERS be your next Great Read

Six would cross backward in time, Four would cross ahead. Three would perish in a time that was not theirs to live. Two would return in the same way they had been taken. One would trespass again. All would be escorted by the Burmano-Ku-Partika.

BROTHERS One, a Scholar & a Dreamer. The Other, a Lover & a Fighter. In 1979, they are the heirs of a Ranching Legacy. In 1878, they are surviving as TRESPASSERS.

Playing Cowboys

and Indians was a childhood game for JT Tescott and his brother Dent while growing up in the 1960s on a Kansas ranch. But in the infancy of their adulthood, fantasy becomes reality when the power of an arcane talisman summons an ancient race and opens an aphelion portal, transporting the brothers and four of their friends into the Wild West of 1878, an era renown for devouring boys and birthing men. Trespassing into the alternate dimension with the Tescott brothers are life-time friends, Blaine and Sam, as well as outcast Kival and resident bully Oleander. As the six of them piece together the truth of their alien abduction, they find themselves still present in their native Kansas but navigating life 101 years back in the past, a time wholly absent of any other human souls previously known to them. But fate adventurously leads them to the historic frontier town of Hays City and the rustic environs beyond, accelerating them into the maturity of young men. There on the High Plains, they experience life and death as danger looms in the expansive shadow of a vile, narcissistic, 20th century presidential assassin, while amid their inescapable jeopardy, love spins tangled webs in a time that was not meant to be repeated. And linking them all together are the mysterious and supernatural Burmano-Ku-Partika, waiting to be called upon to reopen the time portal and return the transient visitors through the archway of the Smoky Hill Pyramids.

  • Prologue

    MAY 1988
     I sat nervously upon the front half of a thinly padded chair in the dim corner of the hospital room, fidgeting with the ring on my left hand. And feeling helpless. My eyes were aimed at the floor, staring at the intersecting lines separating the squares of polished tile, but my mind cared little about the surface, even less about its details of geometry. Instead, my thoughts were preoccupied with the inevitability of an affair that was moments away from unfolding in my presence. Yet my sight was also distracted by a profound sadness that had cruelly overwhelmed me, then before I was able to deflect it, another uncontrollable stab of sorrow pierced my heart as a spasm of despondent breath wheezed from the shallows of my lungs.
  • Damn me, I silently scolded myself, my brain commanding my throat to be quiet and unobtrusive. A few feet away from me, unconscious upon the rigid mattress of an ICU bed, lay a little girl, her tiny, broken body shrouded by a cold, sterile sheet. A daughter. Her parents were my friends, each of them holding onto a small hand, the mother sitting next to a child who would always be her baby, the father standing opposite, knowing his little girl had only precious minutes of time before she would be gone. Earlier, they had fully surrendered their grief, their eyes releasing rivulets of tears that traced wet pathways down their cheeks and dripped silently, melting into the crisp linen shroud. It was then that I had dropped my gaze and had willingly abandoned my watch. In my twenty-six years, I had witnessed more death and dying than I cared to dwell

  • upon. But here I was again, with a front row seat. Yet, so far, I, myself, had never killed anyone, though I would be lying if I said I had not considered it before. There had been one man whose life I could have ended. I had possessed the motive, a weapon, and the opportunity, a prosecutor’s hat trick. But my conscience had stopped me, though I had imagined the help of an accomplice. Even in this moment, I recalled the sense of an intervening hand. But that mattered little, not now, not in this place, not in this time of heartbreak. My lungs ached. I did not know how much longer I could force them to contain my sobs of despair. At once, a wave of nausea overcame me, reminding me that I was weak and that I was scared. It had been a battle, one where my choice of weapon had been willpower, but it had already let me down at least once. But

  • soon, very soon, I would have to be strong. I would have to be resilient. For them. They would need my strength, my resolve. They were counting on it. I had a promise to keep, but I was terrified that I would not have the courage to uphold that conceivably impossible vow. I cursed silently, hearing the profanity rise again in my mind as I thought of the reckless man who had caused us to be here in this place, in this situation. The idiot had been driving far too fast. And in a school zone no less. He was a thirty-five-year-old father with two children of his own. What was he thinking? He should have known better! I was angry. And when life support had been removed, I had been, for a moment, livid. I fought to suppress the volatility of emotion that pulsed through my mind. And it was imperative that I win that fight. I had a job to do.

  • A task that required focus and expediency, and action without hesitation. One, two, maybe three fleeting minutes were all that remained between now and the event I hoped would prove to be miraculous. And upon the stage of this hospital room, I had a leading role to play that was critically important. I knew that I would have to act with logic but even more so, with faith. Yet, to fulfill my commitment, I would have to forsake the morality of my soul. At present, the four of us were alone. The apologetic doctor had left the room, the nurses had followed him. Privacy had been requested. A time for intimacy between a father, a mother, and a child had been sympathetically granted. But more importantly, we required secrecy. We needed time without interruption. Little did the hospital staff know that my presence there had a purpose beyond the provision of consolation.

  • I was there because my friends had begged me to be. I was there because I had agreed to do as they had asked. I was there and I was ready. Inside my jacket, within easy reach of my hand was a Glock 17, loaded. Without a flicker of forewarning, the soft beeping sounds of the electronic monitor abruptly began to ebb, and I looked up to see a father kiss the forehead of a child he would perhaps never see again, though the three of us adults believed and hoped otherwise. Either way, if they came for the child, there would be no choice except to follow through with the plan. But we were also intelligent enough to know that despite our experience, there was no absolute certainty. Our understanding was minimal at best. Something different could happen this time. It was entirely possible they would not come for any of them, or


  • perhaps not take all three. And if one of them were left behind, I was going to be in serious trouble. I listened as the beeps steadily slowed, the intervals between the sounds widening with each audible timbre. And then a wrathful tone, jarring and unrelentless, filled the room. The machine had signaled death. As premeditated, I quickly stood and scrambled to the door, lodging a large rubber doorstop between its bottom edge and the threshold of the entry. Suddenly the temperature of the room turned cold, and I was instantly relieved. They had come after all. I turned and watched with awe as gray ghostly figures began to appear, churning as if in a soft wind, camouflaging the child. Their actions were neither alarming, nor were they unexpected. Two of us had seen them before. And we had

  • convinced ourselves that we understood their purpose and their motive. Then the young father, a man who had unexpectedly become one of my best friends, crossed to me, his eyes replenished with tears, his chin quivering. Briefly, our eyes locked, and we exchanged the acknowledgment of the brotherly love that had bonded us, then we shared a firm, but hurried embrace before he quickly stepped past me. Once behind me, I knew he was setting the backside of his torso heavily against the door, firmly planting his feet and pressing his weight backward, and then applying an unrelenting death grip upon the cold, metal handle. And then she was there in front of me, a wife and mother, her eyes clear and brave. The time had come to initiate a sequence of events, an idea that she, herself, had conceived as their only alternative.
  • “Now, Jermyn,” Anja nodded. “Do it now!” Then her hands reached for my face, and I felt her warm fingertips press protectively into the cavities of my ears. Time had become an enemy, so I did not hesitate. I slid the gun from inside my jacket, placed the barrel against the swell of her left breast and fired the weapon into her heart. A muffled explosion sounded in my head, then instantly, her petite body convulsed. Instinctively, I caught her in my arms and felt the warmth of her blood trickling over my hands. Gently, I eased her to the floor as the sting of a cold, icy breath of wind enveloped us. I stared at her, knowing I had just taken her life, but also realizing my innocence as a killer had just been forfeited. But I could not dwell upon guilt. Not now. Time was of the essence. I could not spare even a single second.

  • “Hurry!” The voice behind mequivered with anguish. Quickly I rose and crossed to him, and then just as we had prepared and practiced, I pushed him forcefully against the door, pressing my chest into his, and resting my chin upon his shoulder, knowing that in just moments my one-hundred seventy-five pounds and his dead weight would be all that would keep the medical team from interfering with our plan. I cried out as I fired a second bullet, this time into my friend’s heart. The gunshot burst against my eardrums, deafening my perception of all other sounds. But the assault did not spare me from the punch of his wretched flinch against me. Then his body fell limp, and I let him slide to the floor, his blood and that of Anja’s dripping from my fingers. At once, beyond the door, voices sounded, first with


  • concern, then with escalating alarm. I leaned powerfully forward, pressing my bloodied hands and perspiring forehead against the door. Instantly the air around me turned frigid and I felt the windy movement of the apparitions swirling below my waist. Then a swish of a three-fingered hand crossed near my face, an appendage with substance and physicality that lasted only a second but used that fraction of the clock to touch me. I looked to where I had felt its caress and realized the thing had cleansed the blood from my hands. With guarded awe, I glanced downward and watched as the alien band of docile spirits swarmed and enveloped the lifeless body beneath me, stealing him from my sight. For a moment, time seemed to have stalled, even though movement and shadow blurred

  • my vision. Then within mere seconds my friend disappeared before my eyes. Suddenly the tangible movement of a whirlwind swooshed over me, then instantly all was still. Quickly, I turned and pressed my back to the door, and braced my feet before me, praying that the traction of the rubber soles of my shoes would afford me the leverage of a few more seconds. Then once again, my eyes were locked upon the floor between my legs, although this time my focus was not on the intersecting lines of the tiles. Instead, I stared at the shimmer of ice crystals glistening softly in the dim light of the room. Then my gaze crossed to where I had laid the body of my friend’s wife. Like him, she had also vanished. In her place was a faint glimmer of moisture in the vague shape of her form. Already, the last signs of her presence had begun to evaporate.



  • Gone, too, was the child. Moments earlier, four human souls had occupied the room. But three had been taken away. I, alone, had been left behind. Alone, but no longer afraid. And though my heart was pounding heavily within my chest, I felt no remorse. No guilt. Instead, I simply embraced relief. As we had expected, just as we had hoped for, the gentle thieves had come and had performed their unfathomable duty. I was neither angry with them, nor resentful. The shadowy beings were transporters of the lost. They were escorts for those who had cheated time. And this family of three had, after all, trespassed into the dimension of an existence in which they did not belong. And trespassers were not allowed a finite death in a time that was not their own. Or so we believed.




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STAGE PLAYS by Gary Ray Stapp