With darkness descending into what feels like mid-afternoon, late fall is the perfect time to crack open a book that will give you the chills. And PEOPLE has an exclusive excerpt from one that will do just that.
Passing through prairie countryby Dennis E. Staples, out on March 18, 2025, from Counterpoint Press, blends humor, suspense, and excitement as it takes us to a casino haunted by the ghost of a dark force the locals call the “Sandman.”
The Sandman has terrorized the Languille Lake Reserve for decades, lurking in the Hidden Atlantis Lake resort and casino that provides the reserve with income to survive even as it “drinks the dreams and ambitions of its patrons and also prevents the movement of the spirits that reside there,” as the book’s synopsis details.
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When a young Ojibwe man stumbles upon a sandbar and barely escapes with the help of his casino-working relatives, they find themselves fighting for their lives—and the souls of the Lake Languille Reservation on both sides of the spirit world.Fans of shows like Dogs for reservations and True Detective: Nightlandmovie Beau is afraidand authors like Stephen King and Stephen Graham Jones you won’t want to miss Passing through prairie country.
Turn on the lights and watch an exclusive sneak peek below.
‘Passing through the Prairie Country’.
Counterpoint
Prologue keno road
November 1, 2017
Ol’ Froglegs Bullhead lived in a small public housing unit with CNA in one of the unincorporated communities between two towns, Waubajeeg and Indian Hollow, on the Languille Lake Reservation in northern Minnesota. At the age of 58, Ol’ Froglegs was confined to a wheelchair; an accident at work took away his left leg at the age of 35, and neglect of his health took away his right leg at the age of 50.
But insisting on a certain amount of independence, Froglegs drove the five miles south to Waubajeeg whenever he had extra income to put into the slot machines, or sometimes just grabbed something to eat at a restaurant and enjoyed the breeze with his many friends and relatives who worked, lived or played – or some combination thereof – at Hidden Atlantis Lake Resort and Casino. Although he was a troubled soul in his youth, with dozens of burnt bridges behind him, he spent the last decade of his life trying to rebuild every relationship he could.
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In the afternoon, he flew into the back entrance of the casino, scaring a flock of white pigeons off the sidewalk. He was delighted to see one of his great-nieces working at the insurance desk. She greeted him with a big, bright smile. It was always nice to see a family member with full teeth, unlike himself.
That day, he withdrew $900 from an ATM near the keno machine, but couldn’t find one open for play. So he switched to an electronic poker game and tried his luck with virtual cards. Half an hour and $100 later, he got tired of poker and instead went to the main entrance to talk to the young bucks in the insurance office.
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He raised two fists in mock mockery. “I’ll bet all my money I can take all your savings, right here, right now.” “Let’s go then,” said his favorite great-niece, Cherie. “I’ll knock all your teeth out, Grandpa.”
“Oh, f— you,” Ol’ Froglegs said with a rubbery laugh. “I should kick some of yours out for saying so.” Cherie stepped forward and raised her hands. “Alright. Let’s throw it down, you froggy f—.” Instead of punching him, she lowered her outstretched arms and hugged him. “You’re winning yet?”
“Not. I’m not going back in there until you all turn on the machines.”
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“Sorry, old man. All the big gains were probably yesterday.” It was the day after Halloween. Froglegs didn’t make it down the road to play because of a sudden snow storm that melted by evening.
“Then tell me which machines are still hot.” He pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to her. “Is this one happy?” Cherie laughed. “I’m not lady luck, uncle.”
“What about Alan? Where’s her ugly mug now?” “It’s her day off. And she’d slap you if she heard that, you know.”
He sighed. “Then I guess it’s not my lucky day. I might come back late tonight and try the high stakes machines.”
“See you then, uncle.”
“Hey when’s the next draw my girl?”
“New Year’s Eve, exactly at midnight, uncle. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Your uncle doesn’t have time to sleep,” he said as he rolled away.
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Ol’ Froglegs played another $30 on the nickel keno machine, but slowly lost it all as the numbers rolled in. It looked like Lady Luck was asleep, after her Halloween party. He slammed his styrofoam cup of coffee and headed for the back entrance again.
“I’ll be back,” he told the new guard, a timid-looking white girl no older than 25. “Save me a jackpot or two.”
“Have a nice day, sir,” came the nervous reply.
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Dennis E. Staples, author of ‘Passing Through Prairie Country’.
Photo by Alan Johnson
He drove onto the paved path that ran parallel to Jackson Lane all the way to Indian Hollow, where it ended in a pleasant park. The hardest part of the trip was the mile and a half from the casino, where the trail had a slow and steady climb and always gave it a good workout.
When he reached the top, he saw a crowd of people walking towards him in the distance. At first it looked like they were in one big group on the footpath, but then he noticed that more of them had gathered in the ditch between the path and the road. Some were pounding their fists on the ground, and others were just floating back and forth, nodding their heads up and down.
Froglegs wondered if it was a group of people who had just been to a methadone or suboxone clinic. He vividly remembered a time in his life when he had to rely on these things to function. He looked at the crowd with recognition and pity.
But as they approached, one of them, a young Ojibwe man, disappeared like candle smoke. His body became a thin, winding wisp of mist. Others appeared and disappeared from view. Some twitched and convulsed like spiders whose legs had been cruelly removed by stumbling children.
His breath left his throat. There was a small path a few meters ahead and to the right, and without much thought he dashed off the paved path into the woods. Half a mile in he remembered that it was the site of a cemetery. In the distance, beyond the barren autumn trees, he could see the shape of Hidden Atlantis, with its bright gold and baby blue decorations on the outer walls, and the water park’s three colorful slides. He stopped a few meters from the entrance to catch his breath.
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“Give us the cash.”
It was a male voice behind him, though still quite young. He turned and on the trail he had entered were three Ojibwe men, probably no older than 20 years old. They wore loose black clothes and red scarves over their mouths. The one who spoke held a metal club in his hand.
“Now. All of it.”
“I don’t have any cash, you little ass.”
“Shit. We saw you leave the casino.”
“That doesn’t mean I have money. I lost everything. Don’t you know how a casino works?”
“Then have it your way, old man.”
The boys rushed at him, and he raised his hands in front of his face. The bat hit him in the arm and the other two boys knocked him to the ground. He fell out of his wheelchair and fell face down on the ground. He wanted to fight back, but there was little he could do. The bat kept hitting him on the shoulders and back until the pain flooded his body and shocked him.
He turned his head back toward the trail, and just before it got dark, the apparitions he’d seen on the road passed, stumbling toward the casino. The boys took the money from his wallet and ran away into the trees.
Copyright © 2025 Dennis E. Staples and credit to Licensor as follows: “Excerpted from Passing Through the Prairie Country. Reprinted by permission of Counterpoint Press, an imprint of Catapult.
Passing through prairie country by Dennis E. Staples is out March 18, 2025, from Counterpoint Press and is available for pre-order now, wherever books are sold.
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