Hello! In today's excerpt from New Blood, Wes Haught meets someone who can change his prospects.
~~~
Wes scraped up a smile for his new customer. “I'm sorry for the wait, sir. I'm Wesley Haught. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Ferrell Badger. I was informed that this is the place to lease property in town. Is that correct?” The man's voice held a no-nonsense note.
Wes's smile broadened. I thought that suit meant money. “Yes, sir. Haught Enterprises handles such transactions. I'm at your service.” He wouldn't bother calling Lonnie to take on the job, since he'd been acting like a jerk this morning. It would serve him right if Wes brought in the business instead. Maybe Dad will spare me a little praise, for once.
“I was given the name of Grove Haught.” The man pursed his lips. “Is he about?”
“He's my father,” Wes replied. He shook his head. “He's home mending from a broken leg.” Dad's injuries were somewhat more serious than merely a broken leg, but the stranger didn't need to know that. “I can help you, sir.” Much better than Lonnie can. “Does this concern a house?” He hoped it did. His glance shifted briefly to the girl, who was presently occupied in inspecting a bolt of lavender-colored cloth, feeling the texture of the fabric as she ran her fingers over the surface.
When Mr. Badger made a sound, Wes pulled his attention back to the man.
“A house, yes, but also a building. I noticed the brick structure at the corner appears to be vacant.”
Wes felt his pulse quicken. Two leases! “Ah. That was the bank, but the crisis a few . . .” His words trailed off as he realized he wasn't putting the town's best foot forward. “Yes, that building is available, Mr. Badger. I can show it to you right away.” I hope Lonnie swept it out this week.
He stooped to rummage for the key in a box beneath the counter, and ran the housing possibilities through his mind. The same financial downturn that had forced Banker Pierce from his business had left his large house empty, as well. The no-nonsense set of Mr. Badger's shoulders, combined with his fine suit, spoke of wealth and privilege. The man wouldn't look twice at the rundown Peterson homestead, but the banker's home was a much grander affair, well suited to a rich gentleman's needs.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward's recent novel, Gone for a Soldier, is a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist in Historical Fiction. She wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection, and is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly,
won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was
named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards.
A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns,
poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers
Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
From her home in the forest, writer Marsha Ward offers up an eclectic collage of musings on life, insights into the writing process, sample scenes and snippets from her work, book spotlights, and author interviews. Now including "The Characters in Marsha's Head."
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Sample Saturday - 2015/02/21 - Lonnie
Welcome back! In the opening scene of New Blood, Storekeeper Wes Haught has just seen a new girl in his store, and his reaction is zinging out of control. Here, he gets back on task to mollify his customer.
~~~
As the girl moved off toward the dry goods aisle, Wes reluctantly returned to his task, painfully aware of Mrs. Slonaker's fingers tapping the counter. Evidently, she had nearly reached the limits of her patience. Wes regretted peeving the woman. Their interaction was usually more cordial, more familial. He had looked on her as a surrogate mother ever since his own had been taken so suddenly ten years before. She had reciprocated with maternal warmth. Perhaps her morning had been less than satisfactory. He realized he was adding to her distress with his distracted manner, and turned to focus on her.
Mrs. Slonaker sighed, peered at the list on her paper and read out, “Five pounds of sugar.” Her voice held a strong note of disapproval.
“What else is on your list, ma'am?” Filling the order item by item would take several more minutes. The girl's father was clearly restless, and Lonnie’s promised minute had stretched beyond reason.
“A sack of potatoes and six cans of peaches.”
“Very well,” he said, and called over his shoulder toward the back room. “Lonnie! Stir your bones and bring out a bag of spuds. Move yourself.” He weighed out the sugar, sacked it up, and then grabbed the cans from a shelf and lined them up on the counter. “Will there be anything else, ma'am?” Without waiting for her answer, he glanced over the assembled groceries, and began writing the prices in a row down a scrap of brown wrapping paper so he could add up the bill. When he was finished, he looked up expectantly.
“That's all,” Mrs. Slonaker said. “The boys will pick up the order this afternoon.”
Wes nodded and began to add the figures. When he had finished, he gave the woman the total cost.
Lonnie appeared from the back of the store, a bag of potatoes over his shoulder. As he caught sight of the young lady, he stopped dead and whistled in a low tone.
Uh-oh. We can’t have any of that. Wes gave Lonnie a glance he hoped would quell his interest, and motioned to him to put down the potatoes and return to his nonsense in the back room. Lonnie gave him the evil eye in return, slung the potatoes onto the floor, and would have strolled over to make the girl's acquaintance if Wes hadn't cleared his throat with authority. “Did you sweep up that spill out back?” Better he plays with his gun than fouls the situation out here.
Lonnie growled a vulgar response, and returned to the back room.
Mrs. Slonaker tapped her fingers on the counter again. From her reddened face, Wes figured she’d heard Lonnie. Taking a deep breath, Wes returned his attention to the matter of the bill and mentioned the amount again.
The woman sniffed. Her countenance expressed her disgust at the treatment she had received today. “Put it on the ranch tab,” she said, and turned away, stopping for a moment to appraise the stranger from top to toe before she headed toward the door.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward's recent novel, Gone for a Soldier, is a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist in Historical Fiction. She wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection, and is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
~~~
As the girl moved off toward the dry goods aisle, Wes reluctantly returned to his task, painfully aware of Mrs. Slonaker's fingers tapping the counter. Evidently, she had nearly reached the limits of her patience. Wes regretted peeving the woman. Their interaction was usually more cordial, more familial. He had looked on her as a surrogate mother ever since his own had been taken so suddenly ten years before. She had reciprocated with maternal warmth. Perhaps her morning had been less than satisfactory. He realized he was adding to her distress with his distracted manner, and turned to focus on her.
Mrs. Slonaker sighed, peered at the list on her paper and read out, “Five pounds of sugar.” Her voice held a strong note of disapproval.
“What else is on your list, ma'am?” Filling the order item by item would take several more minutes. The girl's father was clearly restless, and Lonnie’s promised minute had stretched beyond reason.
“A sack of potatoes and six cans of peaches.”
“Very well,” he said, and called over his shoulder toward the back room. “Lonnie! Stir your bones and bring out a bag of spuds. Move yourself.” He weighed out the sugar, sacked it up, and then grabbed the cans from a shelf and lined them up on the counter. “Will there be anything else, ma'am?” Without waiting for her answer, he glanced over the assembled groceries, and began writing the prices in a row down a scrap of brown wrapping paper so he could add up the bill. When he was finished, he looked up expectantly.
“That's all,” Mrs. Slonaker said. “The boys will pick up the order this afternoon.”
Wes nodded and began to add the figures. When he had finished, he gave the woman the total cost.
Lonnie appeared from the back of the store, a bag of potatoes over his shoulder. As he caught sight of the young lady, he stopped dead and whistled in a low tone.
Uh-oh. We can’t have any of that. Wes gave Lonnie a glance he hoped would quell his interest, and motioned to him to put down the potatoes and return to his nonsense in the back room. Lonnie gave him the evil eye in return, slung the potatoes onto the floor, and would have strolled over to make the girl's acquaintance if Wes hadn't cleared his throat with authority. “Did you sweep up that spill out back?” Better he plays with his gun than fouls the situation out here.
Lonnie growled a vulgar response, and returned to the back room.
Mrs. Slonaker tapped her fingers on the counter again. From her reddened face, Wes figured she’d heard Lonnie. Taking a deep breath, Wes returned his attention to the matter of the bill and mentioned the amount again.
The woman sniffed. Her countenance expressed her disgust at the treatment she had received today. “Put it on the ranch tab,” she said, and turned away, stopping for a moment to appraise the stranger from top to toe before she headed toward the door.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward's recent novel, Gone for a Soldier, is a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist in Historical Fiction. She wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection, and is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Sample Saturday - 2015/02/14 - Valentine's Day
Today is Valentine's Day, and I thought this little tidbit would be appropriate to the occasion. It's from the opening scene of New Blood, a short story I've been writing. Storekeeper Wes Haught has just heard the jangle of the door's bell and has called to his brother, Lonnie, to come help out in the store, but Lonnie has delayed making an appearance.
~~~
“Humph.” Wes turned back in time to see the new arrival close the door, sashay toward the man in the suit and take his arm.
“Father,” she said. “Annie and the driver are at the hotel.” She spared a look at Wes, then turned slightly toward the man and continued in a lower voice. “I’ve arranged for rooms and someone to tend to Annie for a while.”
Wes realized his mouth hung open, and shut it hastily, his mood much improved. The glorious young woman wore her golden hair piled atop her head in a complex arrangement. It could have been a crown. He judged that she had only barely reached the age for grown-up hair fashions, seventeen, maybe eighteen years old, but for one so young, she carried herself as though she were clothed in confidence.
“Good,” the man said, and patted her arm. “This business should not take long.” He turned to survey the room. “You might have a look at the dress goods,” he suggested, “as I haven't been attended to yet.” He glanced toward Wes, his face a mask of annoyance.
Beside the man, the girl's smile lit the room.
Wes swallowed hard. Her soft gray traveling outfit covered her trim figure like a glove. Not tight, just snug enough to show that she had a woman's attributes. Perhaps she was older than he had first thought.
Wes swallowed again, fervently hoping the family wasn't merely passing through Haught Springs. There hadn't been new blood here for several years. This comely girl was welcome to stay forever.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward's recent novel, Gone for a Soldier, is a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist in Historical Fiction. She wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection, and is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
~~~
“Humph.” Wes turned back in time to see the new arrival close the door, sashay toward the man in the suit and take his arm.
“Father,” she said. “Annie and the driver are at the hotel.” She spared a look at Wes, then turned slightly toward the man and continued in a lower voice. “I’ve arranged for rooms and someone to tend to Annie for a while.”
Wes realized his mouth hung open, and shut it hastily, his mood much improved. The glorious young woman wore her golden hair piled atop her head in a complex arrangement. It could have been a crown. He judged that she had only barely reached the age for grown-up hair fashions, seventeen, maybe eighteen years old, but for one so young, she carried herself as though she were clothed in confidence.
“Good,” the man said, and patted her arm. “This business should not take long.” He turned to survey the room. “You might have a look at the dress goods,” he suggested, “as I haven't been attended to yet.” He glanced toward Wes, his face a mask of annoyance.
Beside the man, the girl's smile lit the room.
Wes swallowed hard. Her soft gray traveling outfit covered her trim figure like a glove. Not tight, just snug enough to show that she had a woman's attributes. Perhaps she was older than he had first thought.
Wes swallowed again, fervently hoping the family wasn't merely passing through Haught Springs. There hadn't been new blood here for several years. This comely girl was welcome to stay forever.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward's recent novel, Gone for a Soldier, is a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist in Historical Fiction. She wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection, and is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
Monday, February 09, 2015
Madcap Monday - Whitney Finalist!
I set my alarm this morning at 8 a.m. for 10 a.m., so I could wake up and check the website for the Whitney Awards for their Finalist announcement. I thought I would glance over the list of fortunate authors, give a round of "Congratulations!" on Facebook, and then hit the sack again.
Uh-uh.
Instead, I had to double check that I wasn't hallucinating, because there, in glorious color, was depicted the cover of my latest novel, Gone for a Soldier!
Yes, it's been named a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist for Historical Fiction!
It's now after 1 p.m. and I have yet to get more than two hours of sleep for the nominal Sunday night rest period. But I've been busy hyperventilating, doing the Happy Dance all over Facebook and Twitter, and updating websites.
Uh-uh.
Instead, I had to double check that I wasn't hallucinating, because there, in glorious color, was depicted the cover of my latest novel, Gone for a Soldier!
Yes, it's been named a 2014 Whitney Award Finalist for Historical Fiction!
It's now after 1 p.m. and I have yet to get more than two hours of sleep for the nominal Sunday night rest period. But I've been busy hyperventilating, doing the Happy Dance all over Facebook and Twitter, and updating websites.
HUZZAH!
To make it easy for you to judge for yourself what the hullabaloo is all about, here are a few purchase links:
Gone for a Soldier: Prequel (Book 0) - in print and ebook formats
Print: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | ebooks: Smashwords all formats | Kindle | nook | Kobo | iTunes Bookstore
Print: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | ebooks: Smashwords all formats | Kindle | nook | Kobo | iTunes Bookstore
Saturday, February 07, 2015
Sample Saturday-2015/02/07-I'm Back!
It's been a while since I've posted on my blog. Life has been an adventure: I've been trying to heal on several fronts, while at the same time, endeavoring to write on a project that's a tad bit overdue.
Learning to use Dragon NaturallySpeaking has been an adventure in remembering the correct commands. I haven't mastered that process yet, but it was very helpful when I could not turn my arm enough to type, let alone without causing intense pain. I'm back to typing, but very carefully. There are positions that cause pain and possibly, damage, so I'm trying to be cautious.
I've been working on a series of short stories. Here's the opening of one called New Blood:
~
Wesley Haught opened a barrel of beans, set the wooden top aside, and prepared to sack up ten pounds for his waiting customer, Mrs. Slonaker. The bell over the door of the store jangled, and he looked up. A tall, bearded man came through the door. Wes was sure he hadn't visited Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium before. Perhaps he was just passing through town. Wes appraised the dark suit the man wore, made of expensive fabric and nicely cut. He must have money. Maybe he’ll spend some of it today. He smiled at the thought.
“Morning,” Wes said. “I'll be with you shortly.”
“Take your time,” the stranger replied, but with a terseness to his voice that indicated he was not in the habit of waiting his turn. He stroked a nicely trimmed yellow beard that had two streaks of gray. His hair—that is, what Wes could see below the man’s bowler hat—was a lighter color of yellow, as though it had faded over the years.
Wes bagged and weighed the beans, then tied the sack closed with a bit of twine. He'd just turned to add the beans to Mrs. Slonaker's order, piled on the counter, when the door's bell jangled again.
“Lonnie,” he called over his shoulder into the back room. Lazy lay-about, he thought, his mood turning a bit sour. At nineteen, Lonnie was three years younger than Wes, and he was the worst brother in town. In his mind's eye, he saw Lonnie sitting at the work table, feet propped on the top. Playing with a pistol. As usual. The fact that Dad didn’t seem to see Lonnie’s shiftlessness was like a knife in Wes’s guts.
“Lonnie! Get out here. Folks are lining up.” He hated using a brusque tone of voice in front of customers, but Lonnie wouldn't move unless he thought Wes meant it.
“In a minute,” Lonnie hollered. From the sounds, Wes knew he was fitting cartridges into the cylinder.
~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
Learning to use Dragon NaturallySpeaking has been an adventure in remembering the correct commands. I haven't mastered that process yet, but it was very helpful when I could not turn my arm enough to type, let alone without causing intense pain. I'm back to typing, but very carefully. There are positions that cause pain and possibly, damage, so I'm trying to be cautious.
I've been working on a series of short stories. Here's the opening of one called New Blood:
~
Wesley Haught opened a barrel of beans, set the wooden top aside, and prepared to sack up ten pounds for his waiting customer, Mrs. Slonaker. The bell over the door of the store jangled, and he looked up. A tall, bearded man came through the door. Wes was sure he hadn't visited Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium before. Perhaps he was just passing through town. Wes appraised the dark suit the man wore, made of expensive fabric and nicely cut. He must have money. Maybe he’ll spend some of it today. He smiled at the thought.
“Morning,” Wes said. “I'll be with you shortly.”
“Take your time,” the stranger replied, but with a terseness to his voice that indicated he was not in the habit of waiting his turn. He stroked a nicely trimmed yellow beard that had two streaks of gray. His hair—that is, what Wes could see below the man’s bowler hat—was a lighter color of yellow, as though it had faded over the years.
Wes bagged and weighed the beans, then tied the sack closed with a bit of twine. He'd just turned to add the beans to Mrs. Slonaker's order, piled on the counter, when the door's bell jangled again.
“Lonnie,” he called over his shoulder into the back room. Lazy lay-about, he thought, his mood turning a bit sour. At nineteen, Lonnie was three years younger than Wes, and he was the worst brother in town. In his mind's eye, he saw Lonnie sitting at the work table, feet propped on the top. Playing with a pistol. As usual. The fact that Dad didn’t seem to see Lonnie’s shiftlessness was like a knife in Wes’s guts.
“Lonnie! Get out here. Folks are lining up.” He hated using a brusque tone of voice in front of customers, but Lonnie wouldn't move unless he thought Wes meant it.
“In a minute,” Lonnie hollered. From the sounds, Wes knew he was fitting cartridges into the cylinder.
~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.
Author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.
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