Category Archives: My Books

Video Book Trailers… and Facebook

Posted on by Lori Crane

I’m posting this for my author friends. We all stick together when we find something that works…or doesn’t.

I have video book trailers for three of my books. I uploaded them to Youtube and generally mention their existence and include the Youtube link as an excuse to market. My video trailer for The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge was posted on Youtube on May 27, 2013. As of this writing, it has 2,215 views. I’ve been plugging it every now and then for the last twenty months. It is embedded on my blog pages, linked to on my website, and I periodically blast it on Twitter to 6,000 followers and the Stuckey’s Bridge Facebook page to 3,800 followers. The problem with Facebook is if fans aren’t actively following your posts, they never see your status updates in their news feed, and the problem on Twitter is a tweet has a shelf life of only seven minutes. I can’t say the video has sold any books, but it is a useful marketing tool, an excuse to say, “Hey, look at me!”

Fast forward to January 17, 2015.

I realized I hadn’t “uploaded” my book videos to their respective Facebook pages. Honestly, I didn’t know you could do such a thing. I’ve always posted a link to Youtube. Keep in mind Facebook does not like to show links to other sites, so when I do post a link, a majority of my followers never see it in their newsfeed. Well, guess what happened when I uploaded Stuckey’s video to Stuckey’s page!!??…

I uploaded the video at 5 p.m. on a Saturday evening. At 10 p.m., it had 1000 views and 39 shares. People seemed to like sharing and watching the video on Facebook without having to click a link and be taken to a different site, well, that, and Facebook actually let them SEE the post. The video caught fire quickly, and I watched the views go up each time I refreshed the page. Finally, I went to bed.

Sunday evening at 5 p.m. (24-hours in), the tally was at 2200 views and 95 shares. We had accomplished in 24 hours what it took us 20 months to do on Youtube. I knew being Sunday, the numbers would grow by leaps and bounds for the rest of the evening, so I watched. (I also added the Amazon link to the comments.)

Sunday 7 p.m. – 2900 views, 114 shares. (6 views per minute since 5 p.m.)

Sunday 8 p.m. – 3400 views, 140 shares. (8 views per minute since 7 p.m.)

I thought the viralness (my new word) would die down since people had to go back to work on Monday morning, but I was wrong. The views and the shares kept growing.

Monday 2 p.m. – 4675 views, 170 shares.

Tuesday 11 a.m. – 5691 views, 204 shares.

Wednesday 5 p.m. – 6200 views, 218 shares.

Thursday 10 a.m. – 6585 views, 234 shares. We also got 74 new Likes on the page.

I’m calling that a successful campaign and the best part is – it was free! But, did it transfer into sales?

It took a minute of lag time, but it did transfer into sales. Sunday and Monday saw sales increase by 15 per day. Tuesday and Wednesday sales increased by 20 per day. Thursday sales increased by 25. Strangely, the individual books did not increase by much, but the trilogy, containing all three books in the series, is where we saw most of the sales, so you can multiply those above numbers by 3 if you’re counting actual books. These are hardly the numbers the books sold when they first came out, but free marketing is free, so I’ll take ’em!

Note: It helps to have an established book page or author page. I didn’t start from scratch. It also helps that my demographic for that book is the state where Stuckey’s Bridge is located, population 2.9 million. The people there already know the legend and are excited to find out anything new about the bridge.

Regardless, it’s worth uploading your video to Facebook. You won’t get the views logged onto Youtube, but when all is said and done, I’d rather have sales. If you’re curious about the video, here it is…embedded from Youtube…

UPDATE FRIDAY, JAN 23, 2015

21,480 people reached, 6,980 video views, 6,019 unique views

851 LIKES, COMMENTS & SHARES

456 Likes: 60 On Post, 396 On Shares

144 Comments: 6 On Post, 138 On Shares
251 Shares: 244 On Post, 7 On Shares
UPDATE FRIDAY, FEB 13, 2015

29,328 people reached. 11, 079 video views, 8,782 unique views

1,250 LIKES, COMMENTS & SHARES

642 Likes: 66 On Post, 576 On Shares

223 Comments: 8 On Post, 215 On Shares

 

385 Shares: 374 On Post, 11 On Shares

 

 

52 Ancestors #3 Mary Ann Rodgers

Posted on by Lori Crane

52ancestors-2015

This challenge is set forth by No Story Too Small, and this week’s theme is “Tough Woman.”

This week’s theme was an easy one for me. I’ve written about her before, as a matter of fact, I’ve written a whole book about her, but the theme dictates that I must do so again.

My #3 ancestor is my third great grandmother, Mary Ann Rodgers.

Rodgers, Mary Ann Rodgers Carpenter JollyShe was just a name in my family tree. Mary Ann Rodgers Carpenter Jolly. My third great grandmother. 1828-1898. I visited her grave at Bethel Cemetery in Mississippi in 2012, and my husband asked, “Now, who is this again?” I sat with him at the foot of her grave and told him her story.

I first discovered she lost her husband, Rice Carpenter, in the Civil War in 1862. How sad to lose the one you love, but hey, it’s war, people die. After he died, she remarried in 1864.

I looked at the 1870 census and found she married William Jolly and was living with his children, her children, and three children they had together. It was a house-full! But at least their three children were proof they must have liked each other, right? That’s good. I was interested in where William came from, so I traced him back and looked at his 1860 census. In 1860, he was living with his wife Harriet, their four children, and a woman named Nancy Carpenter who was 69 years of age.

Nancy Carpenter? The only Nancy Carpenter I know is Rice’s mother. Why was Mary Ann’s mother-in-law living with her future husband in 1860?? Were they neighbors? Was Nancy the cleaning lady? I clicked on Nancy Carpenter and saw her relationship to the “head of house” was listed as “mother-in-law.” She was William’s mother-in-law? What?? She was Harriet’s mother?

So, I went back and looked at Rice’s family, and sure enough, his sister Harriet was married to William. Rice died 31 Dec 1862 and Harriet died a month later of typhoid on 30 Jan 1863. Their spouses, Mary Ann and William, brother-in-law/sister-in-law, married in 1864. Well of course they did. They had known each other for many years, hadn’t they?

The more I looked at the Rodgers and Carpenter families, the more I was amazed by the sheer number of family members they lost to war and typhoid. At the time of my research, I remember counting SEVENTEEN, but I’m sure there were many more I missed. I couldn’t wrap my head around that kind of heartache and quickly became impressed with Mary Ann’s strength. How would you react if you lost two or three family members this year? You would probably need Prozac. How would you respond if you lost a dozen? I wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed. Seventeen in one year? I can’t even fathom that.

okatibbee creek cover front JPEGWe all come from these strong women. We are the living proof of their strength. If the boat sank, the story would be over. But it didn’t, and we know that because we are here. We are the survivors. I dug deep down in my heart and soul and decided to tell her story, a story she would be proud of. I wanted her to know that she didn’t endure all of that heartache in vain. I am here. I am her legacy. Her story has been told to make us see the strength in our own hearts. We are the products of strength, fortitude, and integrity, as well as tears, heartache, and pain. We are the children our grandmothers fought so hard for, and I want Mary Ann to be as proud of me as I am of her.

Lori Crane Books at Amazon You may also want to pick up a box of Kleenex.

 

52 Ancestors #2 Lord John Culpepper 1st Baron of Thoresway

Posted on by Lori Crane

52ancestors-2015

This challenge is set forth by No Story Too Small, and this week’s theme is “King.”

Women of my Culpepper line are traced back to King Charlemagne, so I could have taken the easy way and simply wrote about him, but let’s take a road less traveled, shall we?

My 12th great grandfather was John Culpepper of Wigsell. He had four sons: Thomas, William, John (my 11th great), and Alexander. The eldest son, Thomas, had a couple sons, but none with greater ties to THREE Kings than:

Lord John Culpepper, First Baron of Thoresway

book 1 different angleLord Culpepper was born in 7 Aug 1599 in Wigsell Manor (photo), Sussex, England. His mother died in February of the following year and his father died in 1613 when he was a young lad of 14. He attended Oxford University and graduated in 1616, and then attended Middle Temple law school. In 1621, he was knighted by King James. He sold his inherited Wigsell Manor to an uncle to finance his jaunts around the country. After King James died in 1625 and King Charles I took over, Lord Culpepper finally settled down a bit and married Philipa Snelling in 1628, but the young lady died two years later. He remarried in 1631. This young lady was his distant cousin Judith Culpepper (granddaughter of the uncle who bought Wigsell). They had nine children, many of whom died in infancy.

On January 2, 1642, he was sworn in by the Privy Council and appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer. The following year, he became Master of the Rolls. In 1644, at the onset of the English civil war, King Charles made him a baron.

When the war began, Lord Culpepper was the one who protected the king’s heir (Prince Charles) and took him from England for his own safekeeping. The war ended badly for the monarchy as King Charles was charged with treason and beheaded in 1649. Parliament, under the leadership of Oliver Cromwell, governed the country as the “English Commonwealth” for the next decade.

When Cromwell died, Parliament signed a proclamation that Prince Charles was the rightful king and had been so since his father’s death. They postdated all documents and acted as if the last ten years had never happened. Lord Culpepper had been guarding the prince in France and Denmark all this time and escorted him into London in May of 1660 as King Charles II. For his service, Lord Culpepper received all the prestige and glory he was due, including getting all the Culpepper property back that Parliament had seized at the end of the war and being given a large portion of Virginia in the new world.

all saints church hollingbourne kent insideShortly after putting the king on his rightful throne, Lord John Culpepper died on 11 July 1660. The inscription placed by his children on his tomb in All Saints Church in Hollingbourne reads:

“To the lasting memory of John, Lord Culpeper, Baron of Thoresway, Master of the Rolles and Privy Counsellor to two Kings, Charles the First and Charles the Second. For equal fidelity to the King and Kingdome he was most exemplary. And in an exile of above ten years was a constant attendant and upright Minister to the Prince last mentioned. With him he returned tryumphant into England on the 29th of May 1660; but died the 11th of July next following in the 61st year of his age to the irreparable loss of his family. He commended his soul to God his faithful Creator, and ordered his body here to expect a blessed Resurrection. His Patent of Honour from King Charles the First dated the 21st of October 1644 may serve for his immortal Epitaph.”

John_Lord_Colepeper_Arms

Saturday Snippet – ELLY HAYS

Posted on by Lori Crane

elly cover_webElly Hays is the real-life story of a woman struggling to keep her family safe from the Creek Indians during the War of 1812. From the first few chapters, you know there is no way this story is going to end without a terrifying confrontation.

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She angrily plopped down on a rock and yanked dirty stockings from the basket. She dunked them in the water and began scrubbing them hard enough to put holes in them. She could feel her ears buzzing and her shortness of breath and realized she needed to calm down. She stopped scrubbing, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath through her nose, trying to slow her heart. She concentrated on releasing the tension in her shoulders and the knot in her stomach. She felt guilty for losing her temper with her husband, but frustration was taking over her life. Every day brought new problems—life-and-death problems. Her mounting anger was overriding her fear of the Indians and her love for her husband.

She opened her eyes when she heard him clear his throat behind her, and she turned to apologize for her harsh tone of voice. But when she saw the black eyes looking back at her that did not belong to James, she stopped and gasped. They belonged to an Indian, sitting tall on a brown and white painted horse. She hadn’t heard him approach. She jumped to her feet, wondering where she could run.

The Indian was bare-chested, wearing only tan animal hide pants and moccasins. His hair was short, shaved on the sides and sticking up higher on top. Most of the Indians she had seen had this same haircut. His face was covered with lines of red and black paint, and he wore a headband tied around his head with strips of animal fur hanging on either side of his face. His headband was not adorned with any feathers. This was not the same Indian she had seen before.

He stared at her for a long time and did not move. She glanced across the swift creek to the left and right, but there was nowhere to run. She would never be able to outrun a horse. Her heart beat wildly as beads of sweat broke out on her brow. She remained frozen.

“I came to warn you,” the Indian said in a monotone.

Elly was surprised by his English.

He sat motionless, waiting for her response.

She finally blurted out, “Warn me about what? That you want us to leave? We already got that warning.” She could feel her temper escalating again. All of the tension she had felt the last few months, all of the worry for her children, all of the stress of building a new life, was about to explode in this Indian’s face.

“Yes, I’m here to warn you that you need to leave, but not for the reason you are thinking.” He looked down at the reins in his hands, as if trying to gather his thoughts and find the correct words. “My brother and I were the ones who killed your animals.”

Elly threw a wet stocking on the ground. She hadn’t realized she was still holding it, and it had dripped down her blue linen skirt, causing the front of her dress to become dark in color. “You? You did that? How am I supposed to feed my children?” she raised her voice, her temper becoming stronger than her fear.

“This is the least of your worries. When your husband chased us away, my brother’s boy fell from his horse and snapped his neck.” His eyes carried a tint of sadness. “The boy is dead.”

Elly felt her heart soften for a young boy she didn’t even know. Her anger began to subside, as if it were being washed away by the babbling creek beside her. “I’m…I’m very sorry to hear that,” she stammered, wringing her wet hands together.

“You must understand, my brother is the great warrior of our village. He has vowed revenge on your husband and your family for the death of his son.”

Elly’s eyes widened as the Indian continued.

“He told our Great Chief your husband killed his son, and the Great Chief has given him permission to slaughter your family.”

Elly was shocked by the revelation and quickly shook her head. “No. My…my husband would never kill a boy. He’s never killed anyone, for any reason.”

“Our great warrior does not know this.”

“Please tell him. Tell him my husband didn’t kill his son.” She took a step forward as she begged.

The Indian shook his head and looked at her with compassion. “I cannot tell him anything. I can only warn you. You must leave now…before it’s too late.”

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Lori Crane Books at Amazon

On This Day in 1862

Posted on by Lori Crane

My 3rd great grandfather, Rice Benjamin Carpenter, was born August 15, 1828 in Greene County, Alabama to Benjamin Carpenter and Nancy Rice Carpenter. He was the eighth of ten children.

In 1834, following the signing of the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek, his family moved to Pine Springs, Lauderdale County, Mississippi for the low-cost land and fertile soil. Rice was six years old.

He married Mary Ann Rodgers in 1846. They were both seventeen.

They had five children – Martha Lettie, Benjamin Hays, William Travis, Charles Clinton, and MF – one girl and four boys.

frs4544After living with some friends in Pine Springs for a few years, in 1853 they bought 80 acres of land from Mary Ann’s father and began farming, but within a few short years, Rice realized he was a better merchant than a farmer, and by 1860 they had opened a general store in Marion Station, Mississippi.

 

 

 

dec 2012 388When the Civil War began, Rice signed up for the 41st Mississippi Infantry, Company C on February 8, 1862. This must have been a frightening time for the family, as Mary Ann was eight months pregnant with their last child who was born March 12th, 1862.

 

 

 

dec 2012 394On This Day at dawn on December 31, 1862, amid limestone boulders and cedar forest, his infantry attacked the Union soldiers at the Battle of Stones River in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. (only 20 miles from my house)

 

 

 

 

Page 6Private Rice Benjamin Carpenter died on that day on the battlefield at the age of 34, leaving behind his wife and children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

dec 2012 407He is laid to rest at Confederate Circle, Evergreen Cemetery, Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

RIP 3rd great grandpa. Rest well soldier, your job is done.

A portion of his story is told in my book, “Okatibbee Creek.” Available at Amazon.

This post brought to you by On This Day. 

Saturday Snippet – SAVANNAH’S BLUEBIRD

Posted on by Lori Crane

bluebird_small webSavannah’s Bluebird is a love story with a ghostly twist.

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The bells rang from atop the steeple as Savannah struggled to pull open the ancient wooden door of the church. When she entered, she saw the backs of the heads of dozens of people sitting in the pews. She stopped in the vestibule and awaited the organ music to announce her entrance. She ran her gloved hand over her dark brown hair, adjusted her pillbox hat, pulled the tulle veil over her face, and smoothed down her ivory wedding gown. In her other hand, she clutched a dainty bouquet of white roses with sprays of baby’s breath. The smell filled her nostrils.

After a few moments, the organist at the front of the church played a fanfare and immediately followed with the “Wedding March.” She inhaled deeply and took a small step forward. After a pause, she took another step…and another. She hesitated, thinking it strange that the crowd didn’t rise and turn to face her. She inched forward again, pausing between steps. Surely the congregation would rise when the minister instructed them to do so, but she didn’t know what he was waiting for. She put a smile on her face as she admired the sun shining through the stained-glass windows, creating a mosaic of bright colors across the room, but as she reached the halfway mark of her grand entrance, the room darkened. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, and the vibrant colors that bathed the room turned a dismal shade of gray. Her smile vanished also.

It was difficult to see through the netted veil, but she could have sworn she saw something large sitting in the center of the altar. She narrowed her eyes and, yes indeed, something was there. At the top of three small steps that led up to the altar, a white coffin rested in front of the minister’s podium. It was surrounded by beautiful sprays of flowers—roses, carnations, chrysanthemums, daisies. The sight reminded her of her father’s funeral and her head swam with the painful memory. She looked down at her bouquet and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her breath caught deep in her chest as she watched her beautiful white roses faded from white to gray to black—black and dead. The leaves shriveled and a few of the petals gently fell from their stems, fluttering to the floor. She tightly clutched the bouquet and quickly pulled her left hand away when a thorn poked through her glove and punctured the skin of her palm. She saw the small hole in the satin fabric, but there was no blood.

She squeezed her hand into a fist to make the pain stop, and looked back up at the altar. Why was there a coffin on the altar, and where was August? Why was her groom not there to greet her? She staggered a bit as she took another step forward. The “Wedding March” kept pounding from the organ and she kept inching forward. She placed her hand over her heart in an effort to make it beat normally. Remembering the puncture wound, she looked down at her dress to make sure there was no blood on the bodice. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Her beautiful wedding gown was no longer ivory; it was now black. She thought she would faint, and looked up to search the crowd for someone to help her. When she looked through the mesh of her veil, she noticed it too had turned black. Panic rose in her chest and her throat constricted. The next breath wouldn’t come. She felt her knees quiver and she didn’t know if she could take another step. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish gasping for air, but she couldn’t form any words. She looked left and right at her family and friends, but no one looked back at her. They all stared straight ahead. It was as if they didn’t see her.

She stumbled forward a few more steps and noticed her soon-to-be stepdaughter, Emma, sitting alone in the second pew. She approached Emma and noticed tears running down the girl’s face, dripping off her chin and leaving dark spots on her pink cotton dress. She reached toward Emma, but stopped when the “Wedding March” turned into Chopin’s “Funeral March.” She looked up at the organ on the right side of the altar, but the organist did not look back at her.

Was Savannah in the wrong place?

She spun around in what felt like slow motion and looked at the stained-glass windows, the pews, the high, scallop-shaped ceiling. No, this was her childhood church—Fisherman’s Church. She had been coming here since she was a baby. Was she here on the wrong date? She turned again and looked at the people. She knew every one of them. She had invited every one of them. She knew it was August 25, 1936—her wedding day. Why was Emma here at a funeral? Why was she crying? More importantly, who was in the coffin?

She spun again and faced the coffin on the altar. Was she losing her mind? Where was August? Terror filled her as adrenaline rose like flames up the back of her neck.

Two men she had never seen before, dressed in black suits, stepped forward and gently opened the coffin’s lid, and Savannah saw the inside of the lid was lined with blood-red satin. Who is in there? And why was there a funeral here on her wedding day?

She climbed the three steps to the altar and placed her hand on the side of the coffin. She reluctantly looked inside.

It was a woman—a dark-haired woman in an ivory wedding dress.

She gazed down into her own face and heard a scream escape her lips.

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Savannah’s Bluebird is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iTunes.

Saturday Snippet – STUCKEY’S GOLD

Posted on by Lori Crane

stuckey Gold Cover smallIn the second book of the Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy, Levi met an alluring young woman named Penelope Juzan. Apparently, the Juzans have quite a past which became the third book in the trilogy. Stuckey’s Gold is the story of four generations trying to escape a curse brought on by greed. The story weaves between Penelope and her friend Luke and their fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers. It doesn’t much matter which one we speak of. They all suffered pretty much the same terrible fate.

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He glanced back toward the shore one more time to make sure Marguerite hadn’t followed him. But what if she had? It wasn’t like he could hide in a rowboat in the middle of the lake. But if she caught him, she would be furious, and he really didn’t want to attract her wrath. She was a mean woman when she was cross. He chuckled. Well, she’d get over it once she ran her fingers through the gold in the trunk. He smiled at the thought. They were going to be very, very rich, and she couldn’t possibly be annoyed with him for that.

He dropped the anchor over the side and let out the rope. He released more and more of the rope and was almost at the end of the line when it finally went slack and he knew it rested on the bottom. “Gee,” he mumbled to himself, “that’s a thirty-foot rope.” He knew the lake was deep in spots, but it had never before occurred to him until that moment how deep it was. “No wonder no one’s been able to retrieve the gold before.”

Suspecting the trunk of gold would be too heavy to lift to the surface by sheer manpower, he had recalled the ideas written in his father’s journal on ways to raise the trunk, and he had brought two extra ropes with him. The plan was to dive down and tie both ropes around the trunk, and then hoist it up into the boat. He hoped he could do so without capsizing the small vessel because it’d be a long swim back to the shore. He tied the ends of the two ropes to the boat and then slapped the water with his paddle to scare off any snakes that might be lurking. He glanced again at the shore, just in case his wife appeared. The coast was clear. He grabbed the loose ends of both ropes and dove into the black depths.

It had been so hot the whole summer, the cool water felt refreshing. Down, down, down he went. His ears popped with the pressure. He felt around in the blackness, hoping to find the edge of the net floating in the water. He felt nothing. When his lungs felt as if they would burst, he returned to the surface. He looked around again at the landmarks on shore to make sure he was in the crosshairs of the oak, the pines, the rocks, and the inn. Yes, the trunk had to be right here.

He took another deep breath and dove again. About half way down, he felt something brush his thigh. He figured it was one of the ropes, then realized it might be the net. Adrenaline pumped through his veins in anticipation. He grabbed in the direction where he felt the object, but nothing was there. He froze for a moment as an alarming thought came to mind. What if it had been a snake? The snakes around here could kill a man with one bite. It would be a horrific and painful death. He ignored the thought and kept swimming downward, trying not to be too disappointed that he hadn’t found the net yet.

When he reached the bottom, his ears pounded from the pressure. He could feel it in his jaw and across his whole head. He quickly groped around in the blackness, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay down too long. There was nothing but weeds and silt. He kicked off the bottom and shot up again to the surface. He took a deep breath and turned to check the landmarks once again. When he turned to look behind him, he came face to face with the most dreaded of snakes—the cottonmouth. Its snout was not more than a foot from his face, and Gabriel saw its tail flicker in the water nearly three feet away. It was huge, solid black except for tan markings on its face. Gabriel remained as still as possible, hoping the creature was as startled as he and would turn and swim away.

The snake quickly slithered across the surface of the water, but it didn’t swim in the opposite direction. It darted directly at him and struck him on the cheek. He cried out as the serpent dashed away, disappearing as fast as lightning.

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Stuckey’s Gold is available in paperback and Kindle at Amazon and in paperback at Barnes & Noble.

Saturday Snippet – STUCKEY’S LEGACY

Posted on by Lori Crane

unnamedWhile writing The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge, the main character came across a young boy. The boy ended up being nearly as creepy as the main character, and I received tons of emails asking me to elaborate on the boy’s life. No one is that creepy without having some sort of lurid past. So, I penned Stuckey’s Legacy. The boy’s name is Levi, and he is a dark character. Creepy doesn’t quite describe him…

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The starlit night was perfect for a romantic walk, and it would have been pleasurable to stroll the streets for a while in the balmy night air, but Levi had more immediate plans for his escort. He marched her to the nearest hotel and checked in under the name Thomas Stuckey.

“I thought your name was Joe.” The girl giggled as she entwined her arms in his.

“It is Joe, but I don’t want to put that on the hotel register.”

They kissed as they staggered up the stairs, laughing all the way up to their room on the top floor of the three-story hotel.

Following their lovemaking session, Grace lay in Levi’s arms and listened to him tell her all about the fancy people he was going to be friends with on Jekyll Island, about Cornelius Bliss’s death, and about the New Year’s Eve Gala tickets he’d found when he broke onto Mr. Pulitzer’s yacht.

She rolled over onto her stomach, crossed her arms across his bare chest, and looked at his face. Her blonde ringlets danced across her face and he softly pushed them from her temple.

“You’re really quite pretty, you know that?”

She blushed. “Then why don’t you take me with you?”

“Oh, that’s out of the question, dear. I’m going to meet wealthy society people, and I don’t think you’ll fit in.”

“Well, what makes you think you’ll fit in?” she teased.

“Don’t you think I’m one of them?” Levi frowned.

“Mister, I grew up in the Charleston Orphan House. I know a poor orphan when I see one.”

“Well, I never lived at the Charleston Orphan House, but it’s true I’m an orphan.”

She looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl and waited for him to elaborate.

“I was orphaned years ago. My father was a drunk. He killed my mother right in front of me when I was eight years old.”

Grace gasped.

Levi continued. “He strangled her after he caught her fooling around with a man from up the road. He murdered both of them in a fit of drunken rage.” Levi looked away from her and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. You probably loved her very much, huh?”

“I don’t know. I thought I did for a long time, but my father pounded into my head that my mother was not worthy of my love. She was a whore.”

Grace grinned. “Well, I’m a whore. It’s not all bad.”

He looked at her with surprise. He didn’t think of her like that, but it was true. “I guess you are, aren’t you?”

“What happened to your father?”

“I killed him,” Levi said flatly and looked back at the ceiling.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, Grace giggled. “No, really, what happened to your father?”

He looked her in the eye. “I killed him.” He paused to watch her expression and was satisfied with the look of fear in her eyes.

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Stuckey’s Legacy is available at Amazon.

On This Day in 1848, 1859, 1879, 1917, 1939, 2010

Posted on by Lori Crane

There are some days in my family tree that have far too many events attached to them. There won’t be a death or birth or marriage for the weeks prior and following, but on one day, they all stack up. Very strange. December 10th is one of those days.

On Thisblanks martha lettie carpenter Day in 1848, my 2nd great grandmother was born. She was Martha Lettie “Mattie” Carpenter. She was born to Mary Ann Rodgers and Rice Benjamin Carpenter. Her father died during the Civil War when she was only fourteen. The story is written in Okatibbee Creek. Mattie married William Henry Blanks III, and they had seven children, six being girls. (photo Mattie Carpenter Blanks)

On This Day in 1859, my other 2nd great grandmother was born. She was Nancy Didama Spencer, and she was born to George Washington Spencer and Nancy Virginia Holdcroft.

On This Day in 1879, my 2nd great grandparents wed. The above Nancy Spencer married an Irish immigrant named John Francis Burke. They had six children and twenty-seven grandchildren.

On This Day in 1917, my great aunt Minnie Ellen Crane was born, baby sister of my grandfather.

culpepper Sam and Annie CulpepperOn This Day in 1939, my great grandfather William Samuel Culpepper died. He was 66 and suffered from hypertension. He married Annie Josephine Blanks, daughter of the above Mattie and William Henry Blanks. So Annie’s husband died on her mother’s birthday. (photo of Sam and Annie)

On This Day in 2010, my great aunt Myrnis Burke died at the age of 76. She was my grandmother’s little sister. She was a granddaughter of the above Nancy Spencer and John Francis Burke. She died on their wedding anniversary.

This post brought to you by On This Day.

Saturday Snippet – STUCKEY’S BRIDGE

Posted on by Lori Crane

Stuckey's cover_webThe Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge is based on folklore surrounding the real 1850s Stuckey’s Bridge in Lauderdale County, Mississippi. I heard the tales my whole life and was drawn to write a story about the man locals refer to as Old Man Stuckey. He cracked me up in his impatience, but he was still an evil and creepy character. Here’s a bit of the way his brain worked.

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“Wha…what’s going on?” The woman jerked and sat up. “Who are you?”

He poked the rifle into her ribs harder. “Where’s your money?”

The woman didn’t fight back. “In…in the coffee pot in the wagon.”

“You got any jewelry?”

“What? No, we don’t…”

He spoke louder, his impatience building. “Do you have anything worth money?”

“Only the…” She looked at the rifle. “Only the gun you’re holding.”

“Don’t move,” he said as he stomped back to the wagon and climbed in to search for the coffee pot.

A few moments later, the woman unexpectedly appeared at the back of the wagon, pointing a trembling six-shooter at Thomas. “Get out!” she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Without thinking twice, he spun around and shot her point-blank in the chest with the rifle, killing her instantly.

She collapsed to the ground with a thud. He sighed and turned back to his job at hand, and soon located the coffee pot in the bottom of a box, covered with threadbare dishcloths. He took the money out of the pot and crammed the bills into his jacket pocket.

He climbed down from the back of the wagon, removed the gun from the dead woman’s hand, and said, “Too bad you didn’t stay put. Why don’t you women ever learn to do as you’re told?” He shook his head in exasperation. He shoved the six-shooter into his waistband and moved quickly through the dark woods toward to his waiting horse. He rode most of the night, and as the sun rose hot and red on the horizon, he stopped to count his take. “Fourteen measly dollars, a rifle, and a six-shooter.” He grimaced. “I’m getting too old for this.”

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