Saturday Snippet – May 18, 2013

Posted on May 18, 2013 by Lori Crane

Saturday Snippet – May 18, 2013

Writing an intense action scene with cowboys, a drunk man, and no offensive language was a challenge, but here it is. This is part of a scene from my book, “An Orphan’s Heart.”

Set up – Alabama 1875. Ellen has hitched a ride across the state with two moonshine-hauling wagons. The four men have been gentlemen for the previous five days, but tonight is a different story. Apparently Floyd has been sampling the product.

Cast of characters:

Ellen Rodgers – twenty-five-year-old girl who hitched a ride

Floyd – old wagon driver

Earl – cook

Buck – sharpshooter

Luke – Buck’s teenage son who drives the second wagon

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“What are you whishpering ovah there? Are you trying to keep that pretty little girl all to yourshelf?” Floyd has risen to his feet, with more than a little difficulty, and is staggering toward us. He stops for a moment in the middle of the campfire clearing, and guzzles from the jug, throwing his head all the way back. I think he may fall backward, and I wonder if he will break open his skull if that happens.

Earl doesn’t move from his spot next to me. He sits in a relaxed pose, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, with a half-whittled piece of wood in one hand and a knife in the other.

“That’s enough, Floyd! Go sleep it off.” His stern voice doesn’t match his calm body language, but when I see his eyes squinting in Floyd’s direction and his jaw throb with anger, I think Floyd should do as he is told.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Earl. I wanna talk to the pretty girl, too.”

I don’t move. I don’t even think I’m breathing. I have never seen a person in this condition before, and I’m not sure if he’s dangerous or if he’s going to fall down at any moment.

Earl slowly rises to his feet, moves in front of me, and lowers his voice. “You’re not going to do any such thing. The lady doesn’t need to speak with you when you’re drunk.”

Floyd wildly takes a swing at Earl and hits him right in the jaw, causing Earl to hit the ground with a thud. He is out cold. Luke throws his guitar down on the dirt, runs around the outside of the circle, and grabs for my hand, but Floyd beats him to it. Before I realize what is happening, Floyd spins me around and I find myself facing Luke, pinned in Floyd’s arms.

“That’sh better, pretty lady,” Floyd slobbers. The rancid odor of whiskey and rotting teeth invades my nostrils.

Luke freezes and pushes his hands toward the ground in an attempt to calm Floyd down. “Look, Floyd, you don’t want to do this.”

“How do you know what I wanna do?” He spits down my neck as he speaks, wobbling back and forth. The motion and the smell are making me sick to my stomach.

Luke looks past me, over my shoulder. He nods, then there is a sudden noise behind me. When Floyd turns toward the noise, Luke grabs my hand and says, “Come on!”

“Hey!” Floyd hollers at us as we pull away.

“That’s enough, Floyd!” Buck yells, appearing from the woods behind us.

Floyd turns toward Buck, and moves faster than his inebriated body should be able to. Luke yanks me toward the wagon and shoves me in. Buck grabs Floyd by his outstretched arm, spins him around, and puts the knife up to Floyd’s throat. Floyd curses, demanding Buck to let him go. I assume Buck refused, for they’re soon having an all-out brawl. I hear the jug hit the ground, but I don’t know if Floyd threw it or dropped it. I also hear fists making contact with flesh. I can’t imagine Floyd is in any shape to fight off a man like Buck.

I jump when I hear a gunshot. Everything is abruptly silent. The bullfrogs stop croaking, and it seems as if time is standing still. I look wide-eyed at Luke, wondering if Floyd has been shot.

“It’s all right,” he says, shaking his head in answer to my unspoken question.

“Are you sure?” I whisper.

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“An Orphan’s Heart” is available in Kindle, Nook, and paperback.

Saturday Snippet – May 11, 2013

Posted on May 11, 2013 by Lori Crane

The following is a snippet from my book “An Orphan’s Heart.” It is the second in the Okatibbee Creek Series and is the true story of Ellen Rodgers, an orphan who grows up in search of the only thing that matters to her…love.

Set up: 1884 Texas. While Ellen visits her brother Willie in Texas, she meets and falls in love with his brother-in-law, Sam Meek. They have been staying at Sam’s house for weeks following the death of his mother, but now it’s time to go back to Willie’s, which is nine days away by wagon, and she is sadly forced to leave Sam behind.

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While the sun rises, I help Mollie pack the rest of the girls’ belongings into the wagon. When I return to the house for my bag, I stand in the middle of the parlor, looking around for the last time. This is a beautiful home, and strangely, I will miss this place more than any other I have known.

When Sam enters the back door, everything stops. I stare down at the floor and will myself not to cry. This is not my first loss. I am a big girl. I will get over it. I will get over him.

I look up and see in his face the same pain I feel in my heart. I can’t bear it. I want to pull him to me and take away his sorrow, but that will only cause us both more pain, so I simply say, “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Meek. I hope to see you again.” I nod and turn to walk out the front door. I climb up onto the wagon and tell Willie I’m ready to go. The girls start chatting excitedly, and the horses pull away.

With every mile, my resolve is crumbling into little pieces. I reach up and hold the golden heart around my neck. I have finally found the love I was looking for, and with every moment, I’m getting farther away from it. My chest is aching. I take a deep breath and vow that I will never care about anyone ever again—not that I could. When you love someone as much as I love that man, no other love can ever fill your heart.

After an hour of staring at the horizon, I swear my body is going to fall apart from the pain. I don’t know how I’ll get through the rest of the day, much less the rest of my life. I think I hear someone call my name, but over the horses’ clomping, the wagon’s creaking, and the chattering of the girls, I know I’m just hearing things.

A few moments later, however, a black stallion gallops past us and cuts off our horses. Willie yells, “Whoa!” and yanks back on the reins as we narrowly avoid a collision with the stallion and its rider.

It’s Sam!

He jumps down from the steed, apologizes for stopping us, and runs around to my side of the wagon.

“Ellen! I can’t let you go. Please don’t leave.”

I burst into tears.

Willie stands up in his driver’s seat. “Sam, you know it’s not acceptable for her to stay with you. She is a proper woman and you are a single man.”

“Then I shall fix that.” He backs up a couple steps and kneels down on one knee. He removes his hat and places it over his heart. “Ellen, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

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“An Orphan’s Heart” is available in Kindle, Nook, and paperback.

Saturday Snippet – May 4, 2013

Posted on May 4, 2013 by Lori Crane

Here’s a snippet from my AWARD-WINNING book “Okatibbee Creek.” Haha. Yes, award winning! It was recently named the bronze medal winner in the 2013 eLit Book Awards in Literary Fiction. That’s funny, because I’m sure it was entered as Historical Fiction, but whatev. An award is an award. We take ’em any way we can get ’em! 😛

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Set up – January 1863 Mississippi. The Civil War is in full swing. Mary Ann Carpenter owns an old general store in town where the war’s casualty lists are periodically posted. Four of her brothers and her husband, Rice, are off fighting in the war, and she has not heard from any of them in a while and is understandably worried.

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Martha Jane yells up the stairs, “Mary, there’s a gentleman here. He says he has to see you.”

I return to my room to get my day cap. I smooth down my wrinkled dress and head downstairs.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see him. I do not recognize his face, but I recognize his clothing. He is a Confederate soldier. He is standing in the open doorway of the store with the gray, cloudy sky at his back. He is dressed in a wrinkled gray uniform with a dirty yellow cummerbund. His trousers have holes in them, with mud caked around the bottoms of his pant legs. His jacket is missing some buttons, and he looks quite thin and weary. He is wearing shoes that are covered in red Mississippi mud and probably have no soles on the bottom. He is holding his tattered hat and a piece of paper in his dirty hands.

“Hello, sir, what can I do for you?” I ask as I approach.

“Hello, ma’am.” He nods. “Are you Mrs. Carpenter?”

“Yes, I am. And who are you, may I ask?”

“Private Joseph Brown, ma’am. Captain asked me to deliver the latest casualty list to you in person.” He holds the folded piece of paper toward me and looks down at the floor, like a child in trouble for doing something wrong.

“Why are you delivering this? It usually comes by a mail carrier,” I ask as I reach for the paper. I look at the boy’s face. He nervously avoids my eyes and keeps staring at the floor.

“Why are you delivering this to me?” I repeat.

“I promised I would. I’m sorry, ma’am. Goodbye, ma’am,” he murmurs, and backs out the open door.

I look at the piece of paper in my hand for a long time, wondering if I can open it. I don’t know whose names are on this paper, but I suspect the worst, and I don’t want to read it. My eyes sting with tears as I dread a simple piece of paper. I try to unfold it, but my hands are shaking, so I stop and hold it to my chest. I take a deep breath.

Martha Jane stands behind me, not saying a word or making a sound.

“Martha Jane, will you please go upstairs and mind the children for a few minutes?” I ask her.

She nods and quietly heads up the stairs.

I walk outside across the wooden porch and down the two stone steps onto the ground. I walk across the dirt road that is now filled with puddles of red mud from the rain. I keep walking straight ahead. I walk into the overgrown field across the road. I walk with purpose, with determination, like I have somewhere important to go. I want to run. I want to run away and never come back. I keep walking.

In the middle of the field, the thunder sounds above my head. I stop and look up at the ominous clouds that are almost as threatening as the piece of paper I hold in my hand. My hands are shaking as I slowly unfold it and smooth it open. My stomach feels like it has a hole in it. My eyes fill with tears. My hands are now trembling so violently, I almost can’t read it. The name at the top is the only name I see.

“Carpenter, Rice Benjamin: killed in battle 31 December, 41st Mississippi Infantry, Co C.”

Drops of water fall onto the page, but I can’t tell if they are raindrops or teardrops. Even God Himself is crying.

All I’ve wanted the last seven months is for my husband to come home and hold me and tell me everything will be all right. All I’ve done for the last seven months is managed the store and the family, and I’ve waited—waited for Rice to come home. I’ve waited and I’ve prayed and I’ve done everything possible in preparation for him to come home to me.

I’ve dreamed of his homecoming. I’ve dreamed of taking up our lives where we left off. I’ve imagined us having more children. I’ve wished for his arms around me. I’ve seen his blue eyes in my dreams so often and heard his laughter ringing in my head over and over. I’ve pictured his beautiful Carpenter smile as he runs up the road and takes me in his arms. My heart always feels like bursting at the thought of seeing him again. I’ve imagined our happy reunion hundreds of times.

Now what?

There will be no homecoming. There will be no funeral. There will be no body. There will be no goodbye. It’s just over. My heart is ripping out of my chest in a pain I can’t even try to describe. My future is gone. My past is gone. My present is gone. Everything is gone. It all died with Rice.

I stand in the middle of the field in a blinding thunderstorm, holding a wet piece of paper that is all that is left of my husband, and I scream at the top of my lungs.

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