Sample Saturday is Back

I've been dealing with winter storms and power outages and 18-20 inches of snow piled up around my place, so I am treating myself to a bit of diversion by bringing back Saturday Sample today.

Here's a tidbit from a piece I'm working on that I hope to publish later this year.

Julia Helm wiped the streaming tears off her cheeks, then climbed up onto the wooden spring seat of the farm wagon weathered almost white. Jonathan's firm hand on her elbow steadied her some, but the overwhelming sadness that had brought the tears remained. She looked at the stone house, the wooden barn with its wide doors, the early spring fields smelling of molding corn stalks. Why this sadness? I'll see it all again in two months.
She pulled her brown wool cloak more tightly around herself and wrenched her gaze from the house. Couldn't she just tell Jonathan she had changed her mind? Tell her brother to unhitch the team of gray horses while she ran back inside the house and into her small, cozy room to curl up in the comfort of Papa's upholstered chair? Cousin Camilla didn't need her help to prepare for her wedding. Virginia was so far away. The trip would take two weeks! Two weeks of travel behind the rumps of the horses, being jostled and jolted until her young bones couldn't stand another yard, let alone another mile. And all for what? Camilla's gratitude? The chance to see Aunt Susannah again?

The wagon groaned and creaked as Jonathan climbed into the wagon seat on the other side, pausing before he lifted the leather lines to lean over and tuck a brown woolen blanket under her far knee. "Mind you tell me if you get cold," he said, and grinned at her like a crazy man, his breath clouding around his ruddy face underneath his knitted cap.
~~~

What do you think? Does it engage your interest? Tell me if you know who the characters are.

Until the next time, stay warm and healthy!

Behind the Scenes: Special Project Coming

Last month, I spent a lot of time thinking about my published work and all the future stories I have to tell. I wanted to organize the work into easily identifiable categories. That's when I decided that The Owen Family Saga was complete.

Yes, I have many more stories to write about members of the Owen Family, but as I said back on August 9, there is going to be a gap of several years in the chronology before another story begins.

So I called a halt, capping the series at the five existing novels, and then went a giant step farther and changed the suggested reading order. Since I made those decisions, I've been working on a special project. I'll tell you more on Monday, when I do a Cover Reveal. See you then!

Behind the Scenes: Discovery

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

I'm so relieved to discover that the Characters in My Head are not dead! They're talking to me again.

Maybe they aren't the characters for the book I thought I was supposed to write, but these are just as important.

I've also discovered some names in my pretend genealogy, revealed as I wrote this morning. Finding out the names of Rod Owen's parents is almost as exciting as finding my own ancestors!

Rulon Peter Owen married Nellie Marie Yancey. Their only surviving child is Roderick Owen. I don't know yet if he has a middle name, but his son, Rulon, does.

I knew the name began with S, for that was revealed to me as I wrote Gone for a Soldier, when Rulon signed his name in a letter to his wife, Mary. A couple of days ago, I learned that his middle name is Scow, the surname of his maternal grandmother, Phoebe Scow Helm.

I know. All this sounds really freaky. This is part of the discovery process of some writers when they dig deep into their characters' lives. It's really quite thrilling to us, and not spooky at all.

Now go read a good book this weekend. May I suggest my latest full-length novel, The Zion Trail? Someone just posted on my Facebook profile that she's finishing up reading it. Oh, she said such lovely things that make my knees quake and my heart beat faster! Here's a part: "Great read. Wonderful history. Endearing characters. Better and better with each turned page."

You may purchase The Zion Trail in ebook formats or in print:

The Zion Trail

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
Ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store  

Print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday - Mended by Moonlight

Hi! Welcome back to Sample Saturday. I've been able to get my main character, Ella Ruth Owen, to talk to me again. Good thing! Mended by Moonlight is on my publishing schedule for this year.

Ella Ruth has gotten herself a paying position at a convalescent hospital in Charlottesville, Virginia, and she starts the job today!
~~~

"What on earth have I gotten myself into?" Ella Ruth whispered to herself the next morning as she debated on what a "Matron" would wear in a Yankee hospital. She began to pace the room, attired only in her shift. Nothing came to mind. The doctor had given her no instructions, no advisement at all except for an arrival time. If she didn't solve her attire dilemma soon, she would be late. She was already cold. Heaven forbid she should start to shiver before she even left the house.

Lula stood patiently at the open door of the wardrobe, silently awaiting her direction.

Ella Ruth turned and strode toward Lula, whose eyebrows had raised expectantly in the last few moments. The girl would soon give an exasperated huff and adopt a less restrained attitude. Ella Ruth threw up her hands.

"What do I wear," she asked. "I have no experience of Yankee hospitals."

"Your uncle, Doctor Allen, he didn't complain none when you wore your ordinary dresses," Lula said, her expression starting to harden.

"All right. All right," Ella Ruth conceded. "Find me something."

When Lula touched the skirt of the gingham dress Momma brought into her room last week, a purple gingham dress sprigged with white flowers, Ella Ruth burst out, "No!" and then took a breath and thought better of railing at her servant. "It's not warm enough," she said in a more moderate tone. That was true enough. Momma meant for her to wear it come spring.

Lula had the temerity to grin. "I's joking with you, Missy. Here's your old wool skirt, plenty good for the Yankees and with wear enough in it for the whole winter."

Ella Ruth nodded, not sure whether she should be outraged or thankful that Lula could dredge up a sense of humor for the occasion. The black skirt would suit. She could wear the black bodice from yesterday, as well.

"I reckon you'll want this apron, Missy," Lula said as she held up a very large white number that surely came out of Cook's wardrobe.

"Where did you get that?"

Lula chuckled. "Cook has three. She won't miss this one."

Ella Ruth felt her nerves settling. Of course she should wear a protective garment over her clothing. Who knew what she would encounter at the hospital? Soiled bandages always made a mess, and if any of the Yankees suffered from illness instead of wounds, there might be more unpleasantness to face.

"Thank you, Lula," she said, and her shoulders relaxed. She gave her head a tentative shake. No pain. Perhaps hard work was to be the cure for her headaches.
~~~

While you're waiting to find out how Ella Ruth's first day on the job goes, be sure to pick up a copy of my latest novel, The Zion Trail:

The Zion Trail

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
Ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store  

Print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

And here's the newest piece to read, my novella, Blood at Haught Springs:

Available as an Ebook only
$2.99 at the following online retail outlets:
Smashwords all formats | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iTunes Bookstore

Sample Saturday - May 7, 2016, Mended by Moonlight

Welcome to Sample Saturday. I'm sharing this week from my work-in-progress (WIP), Mended by Moonlight.

Ella Ruth's mother has arranged a consultation for Ella Ruth with a physician at the new soldier's hospital to investigate the cause of her persistent headaches. Unfortunately, Momma delayed telling Ella Ruth about the appointment until the day she was to appear.

Of course, this has resulted in "words" being exchanged between the two women.
~~~

Mended by Moonlight

"It will do you good to take a drive in the fresh air," Momma said.

"The cold air, you mean."

"Bracing air. You've been indoors too much, my dear."

"All right. I'll go, if Thomas may drive me. There's no need for you to put yourself out to accompany me," Ella Ruth said, and went to get her heavy cloak without waiting for her mother's agreement.

During the buggy trip, Ella Ruth sat stiffly beside the elderly servant, glad for the lap robe that prevented him from seeing how tightly her hands were clasped together. Where are my steady nerves? Did they leave me when Ben died? So far today, her head had not tormented her. She hoped the physician would conclude that if she were allowed to mourn in peace, the headaches would disappear.

When Thomas turned the horse into the drive to the hospital, Ella Ruth saw that a comfortable sum of money had been expended to construct the buildings. Where did they get the money? she wondered. Surely the Union is as bankrupt as we are from the expenses of the war.

Thomas drove up to the largest building, halted the horse, and carefully alighted from the seat to help Ella Ruth down from the buggy. She told Thomas to stay with the horse, took a deep breath to steel herself, and walked through the front door.

Inside, light played on white walls of a small, empty vestibule. She pulled a bit of paper from her reticule and pushed through another door to encounter a hallway where a young man with no arm to fill his pinned-up left sleeve strolled past the door.

"Excuse me," she said, embarrassed to hear how timid her voice sounded.

The young man turned toward her and inclined his head slightly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Might you inform me where Doctor . . ." She consulted the paper in her hand. "Where I might find Dr. Marshall?"

"Are you the new Matron?"

"Um, I-- I have a consultation arranged with the doctor." She twisted the paper between her hands, disconcerted by the man's direct gaze.

"Ah. He'll be in the wards this time of day." He gestured toward a set of double doors on the right. "It would be more proper if you waited in his office. That's down the other way, the last door on the left."

"Thank you, you're most kind," she said to the first Yankee soldier she'd seen since Ben died. "I'll wait."

She turned away and fled down the corridor. She badly needed to sit.
~~~

I hope everything will go well at the consultation for Ella Ruth. Do you think the doctor will be able to discover the cause of the headaches?

While we're waiting to find out, pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail:

The Zion Trail

 $3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Springs

Welcome to Sample Saturday! A new, prosperous-looking customer has walked through the door of Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium, and Wesley Haught has turned to be of service. He's had a busy morning, and his mood has been soured from an encounter with his younger brother, but now perhaps things were looking up.. 

This tidbit is from my forthcoming novella, Blood at Haught Springs.
~~~

Wes scraped up a smile for the 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 like he was supposed to do, 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 here?”

“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.

Wes remembered the place well. After all, his father had built it for his mother when times had been better. Before she and his little sister had died. Before the pain of living in an empty house had become too overwhelming. Before Dad had sold the mansion to Mr. Pierce.

He straightened, holding two tagged keys in his palm. “We can also lease you a fine house, Mr. Badger. You may have seen it as you drove into town. The large white house beside the river?” He gestured in the direction of the site out of town.

The man seemed to consider his recall of the property for a moment. “That could fit my requirements,” he said, frowning a bit, as though he must inspect every inch to be sure.

“Since we can walk over to the bank building, I'll show you around that first, then I'll hitch up the buggy and take you out to see the house,” Wes said, his eyes wandering toward the daughter. “The young lady might like to give her thoughts on the habitation.” He hoped his voice held the same firm note of confidence that his father's always had as he tended to land and property affairs. Wes very much wanted to make the girl's acquaintance, as soon as he could.

“Yes, I suppose Nina should approve of the house,” Mr. Badger said.

Nina. That was her name. Wes's toes tingled. That hadn't happened over a female since Mary Beth Cockrum threw him over in favor of Calvin Greenwood six months before. Now the sensation had returned. Woo-eee! Nina!
~~~

While you're waiting to see what's next for Wes Haught, I suggest you pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail:

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store
print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Mended by Moonlight 2

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This tidbit is from my work-in-progress (WIP), Mended by Moonlight. Ella Ruth has suffered a nightmare.
~~~

"I'm not subject to nightmares," she protested, brushing her hair away from her face. Her muscles ached from struggling. Her head ach-- No, it felt fuzzy, but did not ache at present. She slipped off the edge of the bed, wanting no more of it for now.

The cold air in the room raised goose flesh along her arms. She hastened to the fireplace and tried in vain to stir the dead embers to life.

"I'll get Thomas to build a fire, Missy," Lula said, and started to leave the room.

"Wait." Ella Ruth held up her hand. "Is it night? How long did I sleep?"

Lula turned in the doorway. "It be cloudy outside, Missy. You slept about a hour. Do you want a fire?"

Ella Ruth began to pace, rubbing her bare arms. She had to get out of this confining room.

"No. Help me dress. I will take a walk in the garden to warm me."

"The garden pretty bare this time of year," Lula protested. "Nuthin' to see out there."

"Nevertheless, I need the air." She paused and looked at her servant. "Did Momma leave?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You will say nothing of this . . . bad dream to anyone. Do you understand?"

Lula nodded, a baffled look on her face.

"No one. Tell me you understand."

Yes, ma'am. Missy, I don't tell tales."
~~~

While you're waiting to see what situation Ella Ruth will get into next, I'd like to suggest that you pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail, available at all major online retailers. $3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books.

ebooks:
Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store
print books:
CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Mended by Moonlight

Welcome to Sample Saturday. Today's tidbit is from my forthcoming work, Mended by Moonlight. Ella Ruth Allen Owen is not faring well in the aftermath of the American Civil War. She's been struggling with headaches, but now, a new malady is plaguing her.
~~~

Momma did not press Ella Ruth to accompany her on the day's visits, and Ella Ruth retired to her room. Lula had a cold cloth waiting, and Ella Ruth sank into slumber, fending off the painful headache until she remembered no more.

Bye and bye she found herself struggling in the candle-lit parlor with a bolt of lavender cloth that unwrapped above her head, swirling her into its folds until she was caught tight, arms pinioned to her sides. She tried to fight, to wriggle out of the binding fabric, but it held her fast, until she fell in a heap and dissolved into tears.

She awoke then, screaming and thrashing against her encumbering bedclothing.

Lula bent over her, trying to sooth her with soft words as she tugged at the bedspread and sheet.

When she felt the bedclothes release her, Ella Ruth sat up, panting and whimpering, until the her panic subsided.

"Missy, it was a bad dream, no more. You be fine soon."
~~~

Will Ella Ruth really be all right, as Lula promises? She has vowed to remain in mourning in honor of her husband, Ben Owen, but will her parents force her to abandon the secluded life she wants to live?

Stay tuned. While you wait, be sure to pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail, available at all major online retailers.

The Zion Trail - currently in ebook formats

(Print coming March 25):
ebooks: 

Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store 

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail

Welcome to Sample Saturday!

Before I get started with a tidbit from The Zion Trail, I'd like to report that I've finished writing the novel and the editing is complete. That means the production work, that is, ebook formatting, is underway. All you have to do is go over to that box at the top of the right column and sign up for my Readers Mailing List so you will know the exact date on which a shiny new ebook will be available. (Enjoy the special bonus novel you get for subscribing, while you wait for the new one.)

You may notice there's a Contact Form below that. If you prefer to hold a book in your hands for reading, it's a good idea for you to also use that form to tell me you'll buy a print edition, because unless I know there is a demand for a physical book, it won't happen, folks. Use one or both of those forms today!

Back to the Sample. In this tidbit, Lije Marshall's mother has sent him to the barn to retrieve his little sister, Mary Eliza, because it's lunch time (called "dinner," according to the naming-of-meals at the time, which is 1843 in rural Pennsylvania).
~~~

“Mary Eliza, Ma wants you,” I called into the vastness of the barn. My voice echoed a bit, then I heard my name whispered. The sound came from above me. I went toward the ladder that led upward and into the loft, fear blending with anger. Mary Eliza was forbidden to climb the ladder, for she was only three years old, and the height was dangerous if she fell.

I started up the ladder. When my head came level with the loft floor, I saw my sister a foot away, arms clasped around a beam, hugging it for all she was worth.

The sight of my plump sister clutching the beam cleansed the anger and the fear in my heart. In the midst of the instantaneous wash of relief, I asked, “Pumpkin, what are you doing? It's time for dinner. Come over here and Lije will give you a horsey ride.”

“Lije, I scared.” Her voice shook so that I hardly recognized it. “I scared,” she repeated, remaining frozen to the beam.

“Here, now,” I said, climbing slowly up the rest of the ladder. “Lije will come up and get you out of this dusty old loft.”

I put out my hand to lift myself over the lip of the loft, and she closed her eyes and screamed.
~~~

What on earth is the matter with that girl? What do you think has alarmed her? Comment below.

As you wait for next week's Sample, go ahead and buy one of my short stories. The Usual Game takes a look at a working man in the early days of the State of Arizona, who does something unusual one night after work. Get it from one of the vendors below:

The Usual Game (An Arizona Short Story) is available at the following online retailers: Smashwords all formats | Kindle | nook | Kobo | iTunes Bookstore

Sample Saturday Mended by Moonlight

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This snippet is from my new Work-in-Progress (WIP), Mended by Moonlight.
~~~

Dr. Alexander Marshall opened the door to his small office, thrust his fingers through the front of his straight black hair, and stopped abruptly. A woman dressed in black clothing from tip to toe sat in the chair facing his untidy desk. She turned her head at the sound of his entrance. The skin of her face was pale as the pallor of death, but her features were fashioned with exquisite symmetry. Pale blonde hair peeked out from under her black bonnet, and he drew in his breath, startled by the unexpected sight of such beauty in these dismal circumstances.

She was a young woman, scarcely old enough to put up her hair, although he could see signs of wartime privation in the hollows of her cheeks. He noted the lack of a companion, and wondered who she could be, come here so boldly, so alone.

He let go of the doorknob and allowed the door to swing shut behind him, enclosing the two of them together—alone—in his crowded office.

The woman had shifted the paperwork that had previously occupied the chair to the floor. He felt the annoyance, no, the embarrassment of having put her to undue labor because of his untidiness.

Suddenly aware that a bloody apron still covered his clothing, he removed it with haste, balled it up, and flung it into a corner. Then he dipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers and took out the unread note he'd received that morning from Dr. Clark, the hospital director.

The only response from his guest came from her large blue eyes, which followed his every move. Otherwise, her rigid posture and tightly-clasped hands indicated uncertainty—or fear.

"Miss . . ." he began, then realized she wore the attire of a widow. He glanced at the note. Please attend to Mrs. Allen before noon. She suffers headaches. "Mrs. Allen, I am Doctor Marshall." He dropped into the chair behind his desk and laid the note on the surface before him.

"I am Mrs. Benjamin Owen," the widow said, her voice firmer than he supposed it would be.

"I beg your pardon," he answered, looking at the note again.

"My mother, Mrs. Theodore Allen, arranged for this visit. I am Mrs. Owen." Again, her voice conveyed her statement with firmness.

He inclined his head. "Mrs. Owen. How may I be of service?"
~~~

Thank you for visiting my blog.

My latest novel, The Zion Trail, will be published in 2016 as an ebook, and if there is sufficient demand, in print. To keep up-to-date on when The Zion Trail will be published, along with other new releases, and to learn of special offers and sales, click here to join my Readers email list. In your inbox, you will also receive instructions on how to download a free ebook of my last novel, Gone for a Soldier.

Sample Saturday & Fourth of July

Fourth of July. Celebrate safely. Remember why we have this holiday.

I'm going to start writing and see what comes out of my fingers.
~~~

Alex clicked his tongue at the horse and flipped the lines on its rump. It started off, pulling the buggy into a jerky progress down the lane.

He looked sideways at Ella Ruth. She sat stiffly on the seat, hands clasped so tightly together that he could see the white skin stretched over her knuckles.

"You don't need to go," he said. "If you'd rather not--"

"Mama would be mortified if I didn't attend," she whispered. She glanced in his direction, although she didn't meet his eyes before she faced forward again.

This was a bad idea. He clenched his teeth to prevent a reply he would regret. Only recently had the girl begun to wear deep lavender-colored attire instead of black. Against her wishes. How he ached to take her into his arms and give her comfort. That wasn't possible. Not now. Not yet. He had to bide his time until Ella Ruth came to know him better, to trust him.

That's going to take a long time, boy, he told himself. Working side by side at the surgery doesn't mean she'll forgive Yankees any time soon.

Ella Ruth cleared her throat as they turned into the road. He looked at her, expecting her to say something, but nothing came.

They rode in silence toward Charlottesville, toward the celebration of American Independence the city fathers had reluctantly approved, after much discussion, which was faithfully reported in the newspaper.

"My mother does love me, you know." Ella Ruth finally spoke her mind. "She wants me to be in society again."

Even if it's Yankee society, Alex thought. He wondered why her parents were so desperate to get her to see people other than patients that they allowed her to be seen in public in the company of the Yankee doctor. The Yankee military doctor.

Thank the Lord for whatever bent their minds in that direction.

"Mama says I've pined long enough." Ella Ruth bent her head and picked at one of the pleats in her skirt.

Something in the brokenness of her voice and her carriage told him she hadn't yet mourned long enough, hadn't finished grieving for her dead husband.

Alex looked at the roof of the buggy overhead. I'm sorry you're not here, Ben Owen. I mean to take good care of her in your absence. But only when she'll let me.
~~~

Okay, that's enough of that. Have a wonderful holiday weekend! Buy a book. Read a book.
marshaward.com

Sample Saturday - Something totally different

Welcome to Sample Saturday. From time to time I get the hankering to bust out of my usual routine and do something a bit different. That's how I feel as I'm setting this post up, so here's a thing I don't usually do. I'm announcing future plans.

When I finish writing The Zion Trail, I will work on a piece that will fit in the "Owen-verse" after Gone for a Soldier.

I call it "a piece" because I don't know the length yet, and the "Owen-verse," shorthand for the "Owen Family Universe," refers to works that specifically fit within "The Owen Family Saga," and works that are somehow related, but don't deal with the principal family members. Clear?

For example, The Zion Trail actually is a distant part of the "Owen-verse," since Elijah Marshall and Julia Owen are first cousins. However, I don't plan any characters to cross over from the Saga, nor will I label it an Owen story.

With all that said, I'm undecided on how to label companion works to indicate they are connected to the Saga, but not part of the Saga. If I call something "An Owen-verse Story" or "An Owen-verse Novel," would you understand what I mean?

I'm open to suggestions.

Back to my plans. The new piece will deal with a character from Gone for a Soldier who is not an immediate family member. I trust the story will bring the character hope and happiness. And since this is Sample Saturday, I'll give you a sample of artwork for the cover.

Thanks for coming. I'll have a regular sample for you next week.

The Zion Trail - Sample Saturday

Welcome back to Sample Saturday. Lije Marshall and the family continue their preparations for their trip.
~~~

Before noon rolled around, we had readied the wagon and put both horses in harness. John led them to the front of the house while I went to the kitchen to tell Ma we were ready.

"What will you wear, son?" she asked, looking me over. "Those clothes will do for travel, but there's the matter of the service to consider."

I slapped my forehead and climbed the ladder to get my Sunday duds. I wrapped them inside my bedding, then performed the same task for John, tying our bundles closed with bits of string. When I'd brought them down to the ground floor, I went to say my goodbye to Pa.

He sat up in bed, propped against two pillows. I wondered if he should be upright, but perhaps he would get into a more restful position once we had left.

At his invitation, I hugged him with care, then shook his hand. I saw a curious hunger in his eyes as he kept my hand in his.

"I wish I were going with you, son. Pay good heed at the preaching." He gripped my hand firmly, then released it, and I understood he hungered for spiritual sustenance.

"I will, Pa," I assured him, and took my leave.
~~~

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!

The Zion Trail - Sample Saturday

Welcome back to Sample Saturday. Lije Marshall and the family prepare for their journey.
~~~

By the time Pa dismissed us to go about our assigned tasks, Mary Eliza had awakened and sat by herself at the table. I patted her on the head as I proceeded on my way outside, and felt her squirm under my hand. I paused and squatted to look into her face. "We're going on an adventure, Pumpkin."

"A 'venture, Lije?"

"You'll see at lunchtime," I told her, and left her with those teasing words hanging in the air.

John and I did our usual chores that morning. Then, as we worked on the farm wagon to make it ready to carry us over the hilly roads to our destination and serve to house us, as well, he asked, "Do you think the Mormon preaching service will be different from Reverend Silcoe's?"

I took a moment to think, then said, "That's hard to guess. We'll have to wait until we get there."

"Maybe they won't be partial to singing. I liked it when we sang the other day, Lije. It made my tummy feel better."

I grinned at him, then wrapped my mind around his suggestion. It sobered me. I hoped the Mormon folk liked to sing. Our hymn had comforted us all. After a while, I used careful words to answer him. "Think on King David and how many psalms he wrote. I believe the Lord God enjoys singing and holy music. At least, I hope He does."

He was quick to agree. "Me too!"
~~~

Thank you for visiting. Reverend Silcoe's name will change soon, as he is one character whose naming right has been sold to a reader. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!

The Zion Trail - Sample Saturday

Welcome back to Sample Saturday. In this tidbit, Lije Marshall and part of the family are being sent on an adventure.
~~~ 

On Friday morning, Ma ask Sarah, John, and me to come into the downstairs bedroom, as Pa wanted to speak to us. I glanced at Ma's face as I passed into the room, noting the tense look she made no effort to hide. I felt the clutch of panic squeezing my gut. Was Pa gathering us to bid his final farewell?

As I neared his bedside, I examined his countenance. There was the look of pain therein, but his color was good. I found none of the gray cast that would indicate approaching death. When he spoke, his voice had strength, and I knew relief. Then I paid attention to his words.

"You'll leave at noon today. Elder Caldwell gave me the address of the worship service, which I'll give to your mother. Sarah is to stay to care for my needs. Emily, prepare the food this morning that you'll require during the journey. John, help your brother get the wagon ready."

Pa looked at me, straight into my soul. "Take good care of your mother, Elijah. Lend a good ear at the service. You must tell me all you hear."

Despite his sorry state, Pa was not letting any grass grow before he heeded counsel to guide his family in its religious course. We were being sent to meet other Saints and to learn from them.
~~~

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The Zion Trail: An uncomfortable lunch

Lije Marshall and his siblings try to have a normal lunch in the absence of their parents.
~~~

Lunch was a strange affair, with Pa and Ma absent from the table. I looked over at Sarah, sitting at the head of the table, and waited for her to say grace.

She sat with her eyes downcast. After a long interval in which she made no indication that she would speak a prayer, I glanced around at John and Mary Eliza, cleared my throat, then bowed my head and gave my best imitation of Pa's blessing over the meal.

We ate in silence, for the most part. Even my little sister seemed disheartened by our father's injuries. When had he ever failed to be up and working throughout the day? I sensed that we all felt aimless, lacking the guidance of our good parents in our daily activities. Yes, we knew our chores, but the absence of he who cared how well we did them left us with a feeling akin to doom.

At least, that was how I felt.

Mary Eliza began to whimper, wiping her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand.

"What's the matter, Pumpkin?" I asked.

"Is Papa," she paused to sniff. "Is Papa going to die?"

"Of course not," I replied, trying to muster an enthusiasm I didn't have. "Ma is the best nurse there is. She'll help him to get well." My dubious little sister stuck out her bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

"Cross my heart," I said to the accompanying action. I didn't add the rest. I didn't hope to die, and I didn't want Mary Eliza thinking any longer of death.

Sarah stirred in her chair. I barely heard her whisper. "It's my fault."

I turned and pegged her to her chair with my frown. "We'll talk later," I muttered. This wasn't the time nor place. The little one was too upset as it was.

"You're sure he'll heal up?" asked John from across the table.

I stifled a groan. Was I sure of that myself? "He's down for a couple of days, John, but his life isn't under threat." I hoped my words were true.

I sopped up the remains of the soup with my last morsel of bread, stuffed it into my mouth, and looked at my siblings as I chewed. Sarah stirred her uneaten soup. John tapped his bowl with the edge of his spoon. Mary Eliza pulled on her still-protruding bottom lip. I swallowed and sighed, my mind racing for something to distract them from their unhappy state.

Sarah should take charge, I thought. She's the eldest.
~~~

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!

The Zion Trail: Lije thinks about girls

Lije Marshall has expressed his concern to his parents about his sister's suitor and the man's connection to Pa's beating.
~~~

I stopped myself from saying anything about the lying tales Hans had spun for her, knowing I'd be in trouble for eavesdropping on my sister, no matter that it had been inadvertent. After all, I had continued to listen to their conversation in the henhouse. And watch their amorous embraces.

A different sort of energy pulsed in my body, something new to me. I wondered if it was time I started to take notice of the girls in the vicinity.

Samantha Calhoun. She had a wall-eye. I'd spent a fair amount of time watching it wander about as she sang in the choir at church, but could I live all my life looking at the spectacle? No. Cordelia Brock. Fair-haired and growing into womanhood well. I could take notice of her. Tilly Kressler. We boys called her Silly Tilly for good reasons. Her giggle was overdone. Annie Lea—

Ma brought me back to the situation at hand with a quiet, "I knew she was daydreaming far too much these last weeks." She rose, patting Pa's hand before she laid it gently on the quilt. "Let's see if her mind wandered off her cooking."

"She has a pot of soup going," I said, backing out of Ma's way as she advanced upon the doorway. "It smells nearly edible."

Ma raised an eyebrow. "You must stop teasing your sister."

"I wasn—"

"You do it often, Lije. The day will come when you will regret treating her lightly."
~~~

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Sample from The Zion Trail: Lije & Sarah "discuss" Hans Stiles

As I sometimes do, I've jumped around in The Zion Trail this week, back to Lije and Sarah's conversation of two weeks ago.
~~~

"Did Hans speak ill of Pa for deciding we would take the baptism?"

"No."

She wouldn't meet my gaze. She was lying. "Sarah? Tell me the truth."

She sniffed, turning her face away.

"Sister."

"He said Pa was making a sore mistake, that he was leading us astray, out of the fold of God."

I made a rude noise and half turned to spit my derision. Since when did Hans Stiles concern himself with God? He acted the part of a rough character every day, notwithstanding his careful seduction of my sister.

"I think he's right, Lije."

I turned back to stare at Sarah. I knew she had reservations, but she had not refused the baptism, nor the laying on of hands.

She bent to retrieve her basket from the muddy ground.

"I believe what the elders told us. What I heard of it."

"Hans told me of the visitors' evil schemes." Her eyes widened.

"He told you fairy stories, Sarah. I didn't sense evil in them."

She held her peace, but I could tell she didn't favor my story.

"Pa is a good man. He puts his trust in the Lord. He wouldn't fall for such as Hans told you." I stopped short as she narrowed her eyes. I'd best quit before she discovered my spying ways.

I waved a hand. "Pa didn't deserve a beating," I said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd be hurt."

"I'm sorry, too. Hans Stiles isn't the man for you, Sarah. He loves violence too much."
~~~

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Elijah Marshall Comes to Call

* I know I'm supposed to be working on my WIP, which is why that stands for "work-in-progress," but I have had a hard week, and was just relaxing when the doorbell rings.

I open the door to find a rangy young man standing there, scruffy hat in hand, running his fingers through unruly black hair.

Me: Hello. How can I help you?

Him: Are you Mom?

Me: (squinting at him) Do I know you?

Him: (a slight look of disappointment crosses his face) Um, I, I guess we haven't met in the flesh, ma'am. (He sticks out his hand, then realizes there's a barrier between us, as I haven't opened the screen door yet. He pulls his hand back, then awkwardly lets it fall to his side.) My name is Elijah Marshall.

Me: Elijah? You're Lije Marshall?

Lije: The same, ma'am. My cousin Julia says her boys call you "Mom."

Me: (feeling more than a little flustered at my inability to recognize my character, and wondering a bit under what circumstances they chat) I'm sorry, Lije. I should have known you right off. (I open the screen door and wave him inside) Please come in. May I offer you a refreshment?

Lije: I could do with a drop of water, ma'am, er Mom.

Me: Sit down, please. I'll get it directly.

(Lije sits and looks for a place to set his hat. He ends up putting it on one knee as I leave the room to pump, er, retrieve a glass of water from the fridge)

Me: (entering the room) Here you are. You sure you won't take a bowl of ice cream?

Lije: No ma'am. Mom. (He downs the water and hands back the glass) Thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Hans Stiles is looking for me.

Me: (answering reflectively). Hans Stiles. I renamed him, then?

Lije: Yes. That didn't improve his nature, though. He's still a bully.

Me: I'm sure that's causing you trouble.

Lije: Ah, yes ma'am. Mom. (hotly) He beat up my father! Now he aims to do the same thing to me.

Me: Are you afraid of him?

Lije: Cautious, Mom. Cautious. He has plenty of friends. We don't, now.

Me: You've lost friends?

Lije: You know we have. Folks hereabouts don't like Mormons. You'd think they hadn't known my folks for all those years.

Me: Indeed. In my time, there's a great threat to Christianity itself. Folks of faith need to put their past suspicions to rest and band together for the survival of us all. (waving my hand) Never mind that. Do you have a purpose in visiting me, Lije?

Lije: I do. (He looks around the room. I can tell he's hesitating) I understand you have picked a young lady for me to, ah, hmm, court.

Me: (trying to hide my smile at his nervousness) That's right. Do you have concerns?

Lije: Not about the young lady, Mom. I believe you've chosen wisely in the past, so I'll trust your judgement. My, um, concern is that you're not writing down the words fast enough to bring her nigh.

Me: (sighing) That's so. I was called for jury duty. (Lije has a puzzled look on his face. I remember that only men served on juries in his time) Never mind that. Another matter took time to resolve.

Lije: But you are anxious to continue? Writing down the account of my life, I mean.

Me: Yes, my dear, I am. I expect that by the time I tell my readers of your visit, I will have written a fair amount.

Lije: Your readers? You communicate with them? (His eyes grow huge)

Me: Yes, Lije. The wonders of my world far exceed your understanding. I won't try to explain a "blog" to you. (I stand) I think I'd better get to work on those words right now. Thank you for the visit.

Lije: (rising to his feet) Thank you. I appreciate your work, Mom. We all do.

Me: (thinking how sweet he is) Thank you for the reminder.

Lije goes out the door and down the ramp. As he turns the corner into the road, a mist covers him, and he is lost to view.

Copyright © 2015 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, Gone for a Soldier, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and Spinster's Folly, visit marshaward.com or Westward Books.