Marie Owen is glowing now

I'm feeling a bit down today, with a crick in my neck and a chill starting up my back. I jump as the doorbell rings, then a sharp series of knocks begins on my door, and I pry myself out of the chair to answer it. Forgetting that I've hung a map on the inside of it and can't peep out, I start to get annoyed as I scramble around to find the knob to unbolt the door.

Me (opening the door and speaking in an annoyed voice): Yes? What is it?

(I see a young woman on my step. She's wearing a long dark dress, and is hugging herself and bobbing up and down. I move my computer glasses around until I can focus, and recognize Marie Owen.)

Marie (squealing): Mom!

Me: Come in! It's chilly out there.

(I open the screen door, and she enters, then flings her arms around me.)

Marie: Oh Mom, Mom, you can't believe how happy I am.

Me (Trying to breathe within her tight grasp): I'm glad. Come sit down. What has you all excited?

Marie: I'm free of that brutish man! (She loosens her hold on me, then smiles brilliantly and sits on the chair I point to, bouncing a bit) You did that. You got your book about me to the readers, and now I'm out of his clutches.

Me: Mr. Thorne?

Marie (scoffing) Mister? He doesn't deserve the title. But it doesn't matter. He's gone now.

Me: I believe I know about that ending.

Marie: Yes. (She looks away briefly, then meets my gaze again.) My man is helping me forget that.

Me (starting to get over being grumpy as I feel the peace and joy radiating from her): Your man, huh?

Marie (suddenly shy): He's, he's the most wonderful man I ever met!

Me: You've changed your opinion, then?

Marie (giggling): Mom! He loves me. He suffered a mighty hard journey in order to find me. He never gave up, Mom. He came for me, and when he did, I was so frightened for him. (She starts to bite a nail.) He suffered more than the journey!

Me: He does care deeply for you.

Marie (her eyes lighting up): Yes. Thank you.

Me: For what?

Marie: For publishing the book at last.

Me: I'm sorry it took so long. You were in such distress when last you visited.

Marie: All that is over now, thanks to you.

Me: Do you love him?

Marie: What?

Me: Do you love him, or are you merely beholden to him?

Marie (She closes her eyes and takes in a slow, deep breath. I watch her, and when she lets out the air, she is smiling.) I love him.

Me (I nod)

Marie: At first, before I agreed to marry him, I worried that I didn't care for him, that he would smother me. Then it came to me, like a ray of sunshine through a cloud, that he was precisely the man I wanted. The man I wanted all along.

Me: Where is he?

Marie: He's out holdin' the horses. He's more shy than you know, considering.

Me: Considering what?

Marie: Considering we rousted a priest out of bed to have us a ceremony.

Me: A what? You don't mean--

Marie: Yes! The priest agreed that since we're not of his Catholic faith, we didn't need any delays to read banns or the like.

Me: How long ago did this happen?

Marie (suddenly very shy): Just now.

Me: When?

Marie: A few hours ago.

Me: You're kidding me! (I grin at her, maybe a bit too broadly) No wonder he's standing out in the cold.

Marie: Don't be a-teasin', Mom.

Me: I'm sorry. (I pause and look at this glowing creature I created.) I reckon you'd best be on your way. It's cruel to keep the man waiting.

Marie (standing): It was his idea to come here. He thanks you for publishin' the book.

Me (smiling as I rise to my feet): You go give him my love.

Marie (trying to keep her smile in check as she inches toward the door): I reckon not. At least, not tonight. He's only gettin' my love tonight. (She giggles.) I'll give him your love on another occasion.

Me: Butter.

Marie (stepping outside and turning to gaze at me): Exactly so.

And she's gone. I close the door slowly, feeling some of her glow myself. "Butter. Melting butter."

Spinster's Folly, Book 4 of "The Owen Family Saga," is available as an ebook and in print at online book sellers. Autographed copies available at http://marshaward.com.

Coming soon

I think I am close enough in the process of finishing to post a teensy bit of the front cover for my forthcoming novel, Spinster's Folly. You can see it over there in the sidebar:

A New Bit from Spinster's Folly

He stared at the paper until the lines of script began to wiggle before his eyes, pain surging from the part of his hair to his toenails. He knew he looked a fool with his mouth open, but if he was going to breathe again, the happenstance of his jaw having gone slack might help him drag in some air, if he could remember how that was done.

~~~

Do you suppose Bill Henry's had some bad news?

First draft scene from Spinster's Folly

I can always use advice, if you think there's too much of this or a scene needs a little bit more of that. Comments always welcome!

Here's something that needs more polish, so I'm offering it up for your emery compound and buffing wheel (and I might do a little editing of my own as I put this in).
~~~

Bill awoke with an uneasy feeling. As he sat on the edge of his bunk, he paused before pulling on his second shoe. What was bothering him? It didn't take much pondering to know that the path he had planned for his life had gone terribly wrong: Marie Owen was promised to that wretched farm boy, Tom Morgan. That was enough to bother any man anyone.

"Tom," he growled, yanking on his shoe. "What a puny excuse for a man!"

He tied the brogan, rose, and slammed his hat onto his head. Why did she choose Tom Morgan? Doesn't she know how I feel about her? Anger battled grief in his body, his heart pounding like galloping hooves on a hardpan road. He took several deep breaths, trying to get the emotions under control so he could get about his day, but the sense of wrong, the sense of foreboding wouldn't leave him. Maybe something else was gnawing at him.

Try as he might would to shake off the feeling of disaster that lingered like a bitter aftertaste in the mouth, Bill went to breakfast without any relief from the sensation. Even three spoonsful of sugar mixed into his coffee didn't take away the dread.

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder from behind, and immediately the hoarse sound of Chico Henderson's morning voice cut through a bit of his reflective fog.

"Sorry I was a porcupine last evenin'," Chico said. "You don't usually take my money so handily."

Bill attempted to add a light tone to his reply. "You're a sore loser, Henderson." He failed. His voice grated in his ears as though he were drawing a rasp over a tin washboard. He clamped his jaw shut.

"I ain't so much, old son. You were on a winning streak the likes of which I ain't seen before." Chico sat in the chair next to Bill's and lifted his mug toward his mouth. "It took me by surprise, I got to say." After a slurp or two, he cut his eyes toward Bill. "What's tuggin' on your brainpan?"

Bill shrugged.

"Somethin' has you befogged. Out with it."

"I can't say." He shrugged again. "I don't know." He bit his lip. "How could she up and get herself promised to that lump?"

Chico wiped his the last sip of coffee from his moustache. "Was you makin' plans with her?"

Bill hesitated. Then, realizing Chico was the closest thing to a good friend that he had in this country, he blurted out, "It didn't get that far along. I was hoping, but--" He stopped short when the cook, Sourdough Smith, slapped a plate of eggs and beans onto the table before him.

Chico waited until Sourdough stepped back to the stove. "Uh-huh?"

"I had no chance to speak to the girl."

"Why's that?"

"She went on that little expedition with her pa and the boys."

"She come back."

"Maybe so, but she was she's mighty changed. She'd She's put up a wall the size of the Guadalupes."

"You sayin' you ain't much of a mountain climber?"

Bill snorted derisively. "Chico, you trying to make me smile? I'm not in a smiling mood."

"I'll say you ain't!" Chico took a plate from Sourdough's hand and shoveled a mouthful of eggs beneath his moustache. Then he mumbled through the food, "You oughta talk to her. Speak your mind."

"You think Rod Owen would stand for that?"

"The ol' man don't got to know."

"Humph."
~~~
 
Yes, I've got Bill pulling on shoes instead of boots, because not all cowhands of the period wore boots. However, I'll have to check for consistency. If he wore boots in The Man from Shenandoah, he'll have to wear boots in Spinster's Folly, as well. Maybe someone can look that up for me. I'll give you a shout-out in the acknowledgements. :-) 

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward

A Snippet from Spinster's Folly

Bill Henry reflects:

Bill thought of the first day he'd met Marie. Fresh from Texas, driving Rod Owen's herd of cattle, the crew had encountered the little sister, half-paralyzed with fear. She'd barely missed being abducted by an outlaw band. She was safe, but the miscreants had kidnapped Marie and the Bates girl--she who was now Carl Owen's bride.

The Owen men and their hired hands had tracked the party to a cave, and finally rescued the girls at great cost. His own cousin had paid the ultimate price.

For a moment, Bill let the barely abated grief of losing Bob wash over him, but his cheerful mood didn't want to go toward darkness just now, so he shook it off and went back to his more pleasant memories of that day.

On the way down the mountain after the shooting affair, they'd stumbled across a deep black pool of water shaded by trees and surrounded by protective boulders. Rulon Owen had called a brief halt to better bind up Carl's wounds so he wouldn't expire from loss of blood.

Marie reluctantly rested beside the pool, expressing her anxiety over Carl's dire condition and her desire to reach home. Be that as it may, Bill got the idea she had appreciated the beauty of the spot as she gazed around at the sheltered area. He'd brought her a tin cup to dip into the water. She'd looked up at him then, an intense gratitude in her dark eyes as she thanked him in a quavering voice for being one of her rescuers.

That was the moment when she had captured his interest. Even bedraggled as she was, with her shoulders and sleeves covered with dirt and her hair tangled and bedecked with twigs and leaves, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Ever since that day, Bill had thought of the pool as their special spot. Not that they'd ever been back to it, but they would, someday.

I hope you enjoyed this look into Bill Henry's fond memory.

I'm Writing!

Today I pushed to write the final scene in Spinster's Folly. No, that doesn't mean I've finished the book, just that last scene. There's still a lot to put between where I left off and the ending. However, this scene is powerful! Here's a tidbit from the draft:

"I reckon I love you," Bill said. "I reckon my affection for you began to growin' that first day we met, with you all shocked and discombobulated, with leaves and dirt and such on your dress. Despite your dishevelment, I knew that underneath, you were the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Don't mock me!"

"I'd never do that."

Marie bent her shoulders forward and hugged herself. "I don't want your pity."

Bill sat for a long time, looking down at the hatful of fire. Finally he lifted his head and gazed at Marie. He swallowed, then spoke, his voice steady, but with a marked gentleness. "I bear you no pity. Only the devotion of a revived man who's heart was tore out when you left. It was bruised and battered when your pa told me he was marryin' you to the farmer, but it shattered in pieces when you left with Alderson. I thought never to see you again."

Marie turned her head aside, unwilling to see the hurt in his eyes. "Going with him was my great folly," she said, her tone bitter. "He bore me no love, as he had led me to believe."

"He's nothing but a confidence man, a very practiced confidence man."
~~~

Have you ever been seriously betrayed? How did you feel about it?

I just dropped the price...

on The Owen Family Saga Sampler.

Although it's quite a nice collection, it is, after all, a sampler, with three chapters each from the first three books of the Saga, and a bonus chapter from book four, Spinster's Folly. Therefore, I've reduced the price from $2.99 to $.99 on both Smashwords.com and Amazon.com. The catch?

There are two: 

I may not keep the price this low forever.

Amazon's price change process is not instantaneous. It takes them up to 48 hours to make the adjustment. Smashwords, though, has already changed the price on its site, so don't wait. Get thee over to their site, buy The Owen Family Saga Sampler, and get yourself introduced to that fabled Owen Family from the Shenandoah.

In the meantime, I'll continue my recovery from unplanned surgery so I can finish the fourth book.

UPDATE:

Amazon has changed the price, so go there, if it's more convenient for your KINDLE purchasing.

New Tidbit

Here's a short scene I finished up yesterday, er, that is, this morning. I hope you like it.

Bill keep his face smooth as Chico threw down his cards. It would be unseemly to chortle over his good luck tonight. He had helped luck along a trifle, and didn't want to share that fact with Chico or the other players in the bunk house. Maybe I'm just an ornery cuss. He dropped his wrist below the table top, shook the other ace out of his sleeve and slid it into his boot top. I only hankered to know if it could be done. He'd find a way to return Chico's cash to him later. It wasn't like when that little scoundrel, Bertie Owen, had cleaned him out. He hadn't felt any impulse to turn over his ill-gotten gains.

Chico pushed back his chair, the lamplight flickering over his scowl. "Hang it all, Henry! Where'd you get so lucky? Miss Marie ain't here to plant a kiss on your cards."

Bill raised a finger and tilted back his hat so he could see Chico. "Don't go mixing the lady into our game, Chico. She ain't a factor in your bad luck."

Chico took off his own hat and slammed it onto the floor. "Damn you, Bill Henry! That was my last three dollars! Now I can't--"

Bill cut off the diatribe by saying, "Have it back, friend, with interest. I don't want a five-spot standing between us," as he extracted a five dollar note from the pile of bills before him and slid it across the table toward Chico.

Chico snatched up the bill, his face relaxing just a mite. "Someday you'll go too far, friend."

Allowing a grin, Bill said, "You've come all the way from Texas with me, Henderson. You know I'm the best friend you have."

"Humph," Chico grunted, picked up his hat, and strode toward the bunk house door, stuffing the money into his shirt pocket with one hand and his hat onto his head with the other.

"Have you gentlemen had enough?" Bill asked the other players.

A chorus of agreement met his question, and Bill took a few bills off the pile and pocketed them as he arose. "Split it up, boys," he said, indicated the remainder. "Be fair." Then he made an exit amidst the cacophany he left in his wake.

As always, my copyright, my draft-quality dreck. Any comments?

Is This the TITLE?

It's been a bit uncomfortable for me this time around, writing a novel without some semblance of a title to stick on it. Up to now, I've been referring to my WIP as Owen Fam 4, but that is highly unsatisfactory.

After saying "meh" to hundreds of titles, I've arrived at one that makes my heart quiver in delicious, secret delight. Will it do the same for you?

Here it is:

Miss Owen Trips

I know you're going, "Huh?" It's okay. At least it's a working title, and there are several levels of reasons this works for the novel. It's better than "Heedless" or "Unwise and Unwary" or "Unwise Eyes and Lying Lips". When you read the book, at last, it will all come right.

So, what do you think? First impressions? Thoughts? Reactions?

You hate it. That's okay. Tell me why.

Happy New Year!

To all my readers and friends: May this New Year bring much happiness and fulfillment into your lives.

From Marsha, the Owen Family, and all their friends.

USA BOOK NEWS ANNOUNCES WINNERS AND FINALISTS OF THE “BEST BOOKS 2010” AWARDS

Mainstream & Independent Titles Score Top Honors in the 7th Annual “Best Books” Awards

LOS ANGELES – USABookNews.com, the premiere online magazine and review website for mainstream and independent publishing houses, announced the winners and finalists of THE “BEST BOOKS 2010” AWARDS (BBA) on October 26, 2010. Over 500 winners and finalists were announced in over 140 categories covering print and audio books. Awards were presented for titles published in 2010 and late 2009.

Trail of Storms by Marsha Ward (iUniverse) was named the Finalist in the Western Fiction category.

USABookNews.com is an online publication providing coverage for books from mainstream and independent publishers to the world online community.

Bill shared another bit with me

Yesterday I attended a writers' group at the new bookstore in town. Afterward, I took a couple of hours to edit and write in their cafe. Here's a small piece Bill Henry shared with me:

Bill thought of the first day he'd met Marie. Fresh from Texas, driving a herd of cattle, the Owen crew had encountered the little sister, half-paralyzed with fear. She'd barely missed being abducted by an outlaw band. She was safe, but the miscreants had kidnapped Marie and the Bates girl--she who was now Carl Owen's bride.

The Owens and their hired hands had tracked the party to a cave, and finally rescued the girls at great cost. His own cousin had paid the ultimate price.

For a moment, Bill let the barely abated grief wash over him, but his cheerful mood didn't want to go toward darkness just now.

On the way down the mountain, they'd stumbled across a deep black pool of water shaded by trees and surrounded by protective boulders. Rulon Owen had called a brief halt to better bind up Carl's wounds so he wouldn't expire from loss of blood

Marie reluctantly rested beside the pool, expressing her anxiety over Carl's dire condition and her desire to reach home. Be that as it may, Bill got the idea she had appreciated the beauty of the spot as she gazed around at the sheltered area. He'd brought her a tin cup to dip into the water. She'd looked up at him then, an intense gratitude in her dark eyes as she thanked him in a quavering voice for being one of her rescuers.

That was the moment when she had captured his interest. Even bedraggled as she was, with her shoulders and sleeves covered with dirt and her hair tangled and bedecked with twigs and leaves, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Ever since that day, Bill had thought of the pool as their special spot.

Thoughts?

New Scene

Here's part of a scene from Chapter 2. I'd appreciate your feedback, suggestions, etc.

He's gone and done it, Bill Henry thought as he saddled his horse the next morning. Defied his pa and gone off. He's got more gumption than I thought he did.

Bill swung into the saddle, gathered the reins, and clucked to his mount, a frisky dun mustang Rod Owen had bought in Texas. The animal frog-jumped and bucked for a few minutes, but Bill stuck tight and waited out the horse's temper tantrum. The dun would settle down soon and carry him through the morning without further complaint.

Yes, James Owen had sand, he had to give him that. Who else around here was willing to go toe-to-toe and have it out with Rod Owen? Nobody he knew, including himself right now. Not that Bill thought himself a coward. No, he didn't want to leave Colorado Territory and return to Texas just yet. It suited him fine to be in the employ of the older man.

If I head home now, I'll never see Miss Marie again.

There it was, finally, the hitherto unspoken reason for staying, even though the Owen boys were catching on to every cattle-handling trick he'd taught them faster than he'd supposed it would happen. I don't want to leave here without her.

Now the truth was in the open, so to speak. He'd never yet--until now--admitted to himself the fact that he'd grown very fond of the dark-tressed daughter of his boss--the sprightly miss who rode out each morning to exercise her horse, even earlier than he got out and about.

Yes, Marie was the major reason he'd stayed here in this green land beneath the mountain. Marie.

Bill smiled at the thought of the music in her name. He tugged on the handkerchief he'd knotted around his neck this morning. It was a bright red bandana, and he hoped she would see it--and him--when she returned from her ride. He imagined her picking him out of the other cowhands who would be riding up the mountain with him, off to tend the cattle in the pasture on the slope of the mountain. The kerchief would set him apart, catch her eye, draw it to him. After his encounter with her at the wedding meal, she would surely be thinking of him, kindly, he hoped.

He wondered if the girl had a middle name. Not that it mattered. Marrying him would add another name to her own, anyway. She'd be Marie Owen Henry. Ah, didn't that sound fine? Marie Henry. Wouldn't the boys back home be jealous at his luck, bringing back a wife who was as pretty as any girl he'd even seen. No. Prettier.

Her dark eyes reminded him of the deep black pool of water that he'd found on the mountain, shaded by trees and surrounded by protective boulders. He, the cowhands, and the Owen men had stopped there briefly on the way back from rescuing Marie and the Bates girl--Carl Owen's new bride. Marie had rested beside the pool, anxious to be home, but enjoying the beauty of the spot. He'd brought her a tin cup to dip into the water, and she'd looked up with such a depth of gratitude in her eyes as she thanked him for being one of her rescuers. He knew that was when she had captured his interest. Even bedraggled as she was, with her shoulders and sleeves covered with dirt and her hair tangled and bedecked with twigs and leaves, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

Rapid hoof beats brought him out of his reverie. Who was riding a horse hard this early in the morning? Was James Owen coming back?

As his eyes sorted out the approaching shape, he saw a skirt billowing behind the horse and knew it was Marie. Irritation washed over him. She knew better than to treat horseflesh so harshly. Then anxiety for her welfare crowded out the negative feelings. Had the horse run away with her? Was someone chasing her? He didn't know the state of affairs with the Indian tribes in the area. Maybe she'd had a run in with a party of hostiles.

Bill rode toward the girl, gigging the dun into a gallop, his heart beating as fast as the hooves on the earth. Then he was choking, trying to swallow his fear as he saw her terrified face. Something was horribly wrong.

The usual disclaimers apply: first draft work subject to change, my copyright, comments very welcome.

New Character Note: Bill Henry

Since Bill Henry is going to play a part in the next Owen Family novel, I've come up with some character notes about him that I put into the new novel-writing/project management software I'm going to use for this book. Bill had a card with a picture in the old file, but no notes. I have no idea who the person in the photo is, but I suspect it's from an advertisement. I mostly used bits and pieces of description of Bill from The Man from Shenandoah, in which he was a minor character, to create this character profile.

Hard-working cowman from West Texas, has light brown hair that curls over his shirt collar, and blue eyes. His face is tanned brown, but it's still unseamed. Powerfully built, wears a moustache that droops over the sides of his mouth.

About two years older than Carl, so he was born in 1843. Although he's young, he was the trail boss that trained the Owen men in cattle handling and successfully brought the herd to C.T.

His cousin, Bob Henry, was killed by Frank Tilden when the hands were going after the kidnapped girls in The Man from Shenandoah.