Saturday, April 27, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - April 27, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples.


This week, to celebrate the re-publication of the print version of The Man from Shenandoah under my own label, I'm posting a snippet from that book. Carl Owen has just returned from the Civil War. Here he comes across his younger brother, James, after not seeing him for a long spell:
~~

Carl took the horses to the pen and stripped off the saddles. Hearing a faint scraping sound behind him, he crouched in the brush. A short ways off he saw a young man seated on the bank of the creek, stropping a razor. At his side he had a basin of water and a pistol. After a while he laid the strop down and began to remove the curly black beard from his lanky face.

“James!” Carl called out. He rushed from the bushes and ran to the creek. The younger man threw down the razor and grabbed the pistol, then dropped it and gave a rebel yell.

Meeting on the bank like two young bulls, the brothers crashed together in a welter of arms and heads, wrestling each other to the ground.

Laughing, Carl declared, “You’re just the feller I want to see. And you got you a razor, besides.” He rubbed his red stubble while James punched him fondly in the side. “You be through shaving when I’m finished with the horses, you hear?”

“Carl, you coon-faced old lard bucket, we thought you got took prisoner or something. Pa was ready to go to Washington City to see what become of you.”

“You’re joshing me!”

“No sir, not me. He and Ma were sure worried some. I never seen them so worked up about a body. I reckon [event removed so as not to spoil a plot point in the current WIP] took some of the sand out of both of them.”

“You old liar, you. Pa never had more sand than now. He’s ripping us out of this valley, lock, stock, and barrel, and taking us to Colorado. Says we’re going to raise beef cattle for the miners.”

“He’s what?”

 ~~
 
Thank you for visiting. Refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work.

I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I always read what you write and reply. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider signing up for my occasional newsletter, which will contain news about my books, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the other authors participating in Sweet Saturday Samples enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

Thursday, April 25, 2013

I'm risking the weird reaction of Facebook . . .

but I'll take it to do a favor for a friend.

For some reason, my friend Janette Rallison's blogs are being blocked by Facebook as some kind of sp@m. I assure you, JR has not a mean bone in her body, let alone a vicious, sp@m-ridden one.

To that end, if you want to go to her blogs, click one of the following links:

janette-rallison.blogspot.com

cjhillbooks.blogspot.com

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - April 20, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples.

This week I am posting a snippet of a scene featuring an Owen brother you don't hear much about. His name is Benjamin, Ben for short.
~~~

Ben waited in the darkness of the lane leading from the Meem Bottom bridge. Before him stood the grand house, the centerpiece of the Strathmore estate owned by Ella Ruth Meem's father.

Ella Ruth was late in arriving to their tryst, but that was to be expected. Ella Ruth was late for every occasion.


He smiled to himself and adjusted his leaning position against the trunk of a tree. If he could have his way, he would scoop her up and run away with her to the nearest place he could legally marry her, but he would bid his time. For a while.


Hearing footsteps, he pushed away from the tree and straightened.


"Ben?" Breathless. Timid. Hopeful.


"I'm here," he called, keeping his voice low.


The footsteps slowed. Hesitant. "Where?"


"Just here," he said, bringing the girl into his arms.


"Oh Ben," she sighed, snuggling against him, her head fitting into the hollow beneath his chin. "I worried you wouldn't come." Her anxiety showed itself in a constrained giggle.


"You can depend on me," he told her, repeating a phrase he'd said so many times before in his attempt to woo and win her.


"You always say that," she said, a little chuckle in her voice.


"I want you to remember it. I want you to know I am true to you. There is no one in my heart but your dear person."


"Oh Ben," she repeated. "It's Pappa you need to convince, not me."


 ~~~
Thank you for visiting. Refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work.

I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I always read what you write and reply. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider signing up for my occasional newsletter, which will contain news about my books, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the other authors participating in Sweet Saturday Samples enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

 

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - April 13, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples.

I believe that marriage is a sacred commitment between one man and one woman. I believe it should last, and be worked at. That's one reason I like the tremendously flawed but immensely tender head of the Owen clan, Rod Owen, and his practical wife, Julia. Here's a scene featuring the two of them, from my WIP, Gone for a Soldier. I hope you like it!
~~~

"They set the day." Julia stood behind Rod's chair, her hands resting on his shoulders as he stared into the fire before he bestirred himself to end the day.

"How soon?"

"Next week." Her fingers kneaded his neck. "My baby is a man." Her voice seemed sunken into her throat, and he looked around to see her face.

"He'd like to presume that of himself." He captured one of her hands underneath one of his. "There's a heap of impetuosity in his nature."

"Don't he come by that naturally!" Her free hand wandered up the back of his neck, spreading his hair between her fingers.

"Woman, what do you mean by that?"

"Husband," she returned his bantering tone. "Who was bent on eloping instead of facing my brother to ask for my hand?"

"Jonathan is formidable."

"No more than you."

"I have grown into my fearsome posture."

She chuckled. "How do you reckon Jonathan arrived there?"

He pulled her around the side of the chair and lifted her onto his lap. "You are my daily breath, Julie. I don't take a step without thinkin' on your beauty and grace."

She took his earlobes between her fingers and stroked them. "Husband, what news are you tryin' to ease into breakin' to me?"

He sighed, a long exhalation. "You know me too well, wife." He enfolded her in his arms and drew her close, nuzzling the top of her head. "I wrote my name on a paper today."

She struggled against him, squirming until she was in a position to see his face. "You didn't! You couldn't be satisfied playing at war in a foreign land?"

Her irritation pricked both his conscience and his pride, but he could only choose to address one or the other. He chose to be properly abashed, but lay it to pressure.

"Chester shamed me into it."

"You'd blame your friend. Rod Owen. You are a scoundrel."

"I . . . am a scoundrel," he agreed. "But I'm your scoundrel, and my native land's scoundrel. I can't let the Yankees invade my home."

In a flash, she turned into a melting woman and sank heavily against his chest. "I had hoped to avoid losing you to this squabble."

"Oh Julie, Julie." He felt the melting of his bones that her distress brought upon him these days. Tenderness had not been native to his nature, but over many years, he had learned a hard-won lesson, tenderness betwixt a man and his wife was well worth cultivating. "I cannot pretend to know what is in store for me. I cannot lie on that point to ease your feelin's." He kissed her hair. "Know this, woman. I will love you beyond any power that death has to separate us."

She wept in his arms, soft sobs she surely was trying to keep within the bounds of their chair. He could only whisper endearments and hold her closer to his soul.


~~~
Thank you for visiting. Refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work.

I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I always read what you write and reply. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider signing up for my occasional newsletter, which will contain news about my books, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the other authors participating in Sweet Saturday Samples enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

Sunday, April 07, 2013

Rulon Owen Visits Me Again

I decided to take a power nap after a very edifying, but exhausting, weekend. As I dozed, Rulon Owen showed up. I let him in the door, seated him, and performed the amenities. He wasn't interested in food or drink.

Me: Should you be here?

Rulon (his face coloring): Perhaps not, but I won't stay long. I need to give you my thanks for beginnin' my tale. It is . . . easier now to go on.

Me (studying his face): You are going to have a hard time over the next few years.

Rulon: Years? It won't take years to give the Yankees their comeuppance!

Me: I live now. I know a few things.

Rulon: Hmm. You have a point. (He seems abashed.)

Me: I will bring you through it, but expect hard things.

Rulon: Thank you for the warning words. (He tilts his head.) I am a mite chagrinned to see myself as you see me.

Me (not sure if I should grin or not. Thinking better of it.): You're young and strong, and have plenty of vitality.

Rulon (quirking an eyebrow): I am a lustful dog.

Me (tilting my head): That too. I hope getting married helped.

Rulon (mouth twitching. I don't know whether to expect a frown, or what. Finally, he chooses to share a huge grin.): It did.

Me: Good. Now go to war. Get that out of your system.

Rulon: You make it seem like a rite of passage.

Me: In a way, it is. You'll be fine, but don't expect it to be easy, you hear?

Rulon (sobering): You will take care of Mary?

Me (nodding): I will. (I rise to my feet, not knowing where Mary is waiting, not wanting her to wait long.) Expect hard times.

Rulon (rising, his face cautious): You've said that four times, now. You won't tell me details?

Me: No. Go back to your wife. Your time with her now is short.

Rulon. Don't I know it! Thank you, Mom.

And he's gone.

Copyright © 2013 Marsha Ward

*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own time and place. To order autographed copies of my novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and Spinster's Folly, visit my website at marshaward.com.

Saturday, April 06, 2013

Sweet Saturday Sample - April 6, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples.

This week, I'm sharing a scene from my work-in-progress (WIP), Gone for a Soldier. It's work fresh off the fingertips this past week. I hope you'll enjoy the spring wedding!
~~~


Mrs. Hilbrands opened the door to Rulon's knock and bade him enter, a small unchanging smile pasted on her mouth. He wondered if he should try to charm her, call her "Mother Hilbrands," kiss her cheek, but in the end, his terror left him meekly following in her wake without any attempts on his part to ease the tension.

He heard Benjamin and Peter coming in the door behind him, laughing, then shushing as they closed the door. Were they being respectful or did the close atmosphere affect them as much as it did him?

As he entered the parlor, the first thing he noticed was the drawn drapes, heavy barriers that forbid the sun to shine upon his marriage. The furniture had been shoved up against the walls, making room for the families to stand to witness the proceedings. Candles in heavy pewter holders stood along the mantelpiece, ready to be lit.

"Please wait here," Mrs. Hilbrands said, then left him in the dim room with but his brothers to attend him.

"It's a mite somber in here," Ben said, and going to the nearest window, tied back the drapes. Peter joined in, as Rulon sounded vain protestations.

"Don't make trouble for me," he begged, thinking he sounded like an old scolding woman as he untied a pair of sashes to let one of the windows fall prey to the darkness again.

"The missus don't like you?" Peter asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well enough, I reckon," he said. "It's the weddin' she don't much approve."

"As long as the girl is satisfied she's getting the right Owen," Peter said, smoothing down his hair. "I'm closer to her in age. By rights, I should be standing up with her today."

With an effort of will, Rulon refused to rise to the bait. "How far behind us was Pa?"

"He set out just after you rode off. He should be driving up the street any moment," Ben said, and craned his neck to peer out the window opening to the front of the house. "Yes, there they come. Don't Ma look fine in that getup?"

Rulon was too occupied with adjusting the tail of his coat to go over to the window to admire his mother's finery. Where was the parson? Had Mr. Hilbrands changed his mind? Where was Mary? He pulled at his collar.

The knocker fell on the front door with a boom, causing Rulon's heart to jump. One of the Hilbrands girls answered, and soon, his parents and the younger children came into the parlor. To his relief, Mr. Hilbrands accompanied them, bearing the parson at his side. However, Mrs. Hilbrands kept her whereabouts secretive, and Mary was nowhere in sight.

Mr. Hilbrands greeted his guests, planted the parson before the fireplace, and called out into the hallway for a lamp to light the candles.

The blonde daughter just younger than Mary brought a light, and as she performed her task with the lamp, Mr. Hilbrands left the room.

"Such comings and goings," Ben hissed from behind his hand.

"Hush," Rulon whispered, adjusting with a shrug or two where Pa's coat sat upon his shoulders.

Just then, Mrs. Hilbrands came back, looking somewhat pale in the brighter room. Ma greeted her, patting her cheeks with hands encased in lace mitts. Where had Ma dug those up?

Rulon counted his siblings. Carl, James, Marie, Clayton, Albert, Julianna. The entire Owen clan had come to either tease him unmercifully or make merry.

Mrs. Hilbrands looked toward the girl, who promptly disappeared. Then the woman made some gathering motions with her hands, and the crowd pressed toward her.

Rulon didn't know whether to remain where he was or go with the crowd, but the parson nudged him, and he chose the latter.

People spilled out into the hall, and Rulon edged up to the parlor door. Youthful voices began to sing a song about "this happy occasion," as Mary's three sisters descended the stairway, carrying more lighted candles. At the top of the stair, Mr. Hilbrands stood with Mary on his arm.

Rulon sucked in his breath.

His bride wore a demure light-weight cream-colored bodice with gay sprigs of purple flowers embroidered on the material. The skirt reversed the effect; purple with light-colored flowers, wide enough to fill the area between the bannister and the wall. On her head, a circlet of purple blossoms of some kind crowned her dark locks.

"Mary." His shallow breathing allowed only a whisper of her name before he choked with emotion.

She looked at him once, then lowered her eyes to a shy, downward glance as she made her slow way down the treads, leaning on her father's arm.

Then he was led backwards, stumbling, to his place alongside the parson. Ben pinched his arm, and he remembered to stand tall, scarcely able to draw breath.

His family formed an aisle. The girls came forward, still singing, until they stood at the front, at one side, lined up next to Mrs. Hilbrands. Mr. Hilbrands brought Mary toward him, stepping carefully, stopping before the parson with Mary on his far arm.

The girls stopped singing.

The parson opened a book and began intoning words that Rulon paid no mind to. Mary was half hidden beyond the bulk of her father's body. Why didn't the man step back? Then he said "I bring her," and did so.

Rearranging the couple, the parson kept talking, but Rulon only heard sound. All he could absorb was the fact that Mary stood beside him, looking at the carpet, her hand brushing his arm. After an interminable time, the man before them said something incomprehensible, Ma gasped in the background, and the parson smiled and nodded at Rulon.

Ben toed him in the ankle. "Your vow," he hissed.

Rulon woke from his stupor and said, "I do."

Mary echoed him in her turn.

The parson said something about "man and wife," and smiled again. Mary turned to him, eyes glowing.

Peter chuckled. "Kiss her, or I will."

Rulon inhaled. Was it over? He felt an elbow in his ribs, and decided it was. He kissed her.

She smelled of soap, and the purple blossoms, and another scent he didn't try to identify. When could he carry her back up those stairs to privacy?
~~~


Thank you for visiting. Refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work.

I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I always read what you write and reply. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider signing up for my occasional newsletter, which will contain news about my books, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the other authors participating in Sweet Saturday Samples enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!
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