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WILLOW CREEK
(Wyoming Territory, March 1886)

“Watch it, sod-buster!” The drunk cowboy glowered down at Nicki, or what he could see of her. Only faded dungarees and small booted feet were visible beneath the heavy winter coat and wide brimmed hat. “Don’t you know enough to get out of the way when your betters come along?”

Nicki swallowed a retort and stepped away. The man had blundered right into her as she came out of the mercantile, but the last thing she needed was trouble with three cowpokes from the Bar X.

“Hey, boy,” said the man’s tall, rangy companion. “You owe Shorty an apology.”

Nicki gritted her teeth. She’d rather spit in his face. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“We’d best teach this squatter some manners, Buck” the third man said with a sinister smile. “I say we throw him in the horse trough.”

Nicki backed up against the wall and watched the three men warily. She wasn’t afraid of a dunking, but such things had a tendency to snowball when whiskey was involved, and these men had clearly been drinking a long time. At least they were too drunk to realize they were dealing with a full-grown woman instead of an adolescent boy. Barely five foot tall, Nicki was used to people making that mistake. Even without her heavy coat, the bulky long johns effectively hid her slender figure.

Suddenly one of the cowhands lunged, and Nicki struck out with a small fist. As her assailant clutched his midsection in pain, the third man grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Struggling wildly, she soon realized it was impossible to escape that way.

She slumped in apparent defeat and waited while the other cowboy approached. When he was a mere two feet away Nicki leaned back and swung her foot up in a vicious kick. Taken unaware, the man holding her stumbled backward as his friend howled in agony when the boot connected with his knee. But it wasn’t enough and Nicki knew it.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as the two she’d injured picked themselves up and headed for her. Desperately, she fought the hands that held her but to no avail. Nothing but a miracle could save her now.

“All right, gentlemen, I think you’ve had enough fun for one day.” The four combatants froze at the sound of a rifle being cocked. “Let the boy go.”

Nicki twisted around in surprise. The voice belonged to a complete stranger. Standing well over six foot, his bulk seemed to fill the doorway of the mercantile. A full beard hid his expression, but the blue-gray eyes glinted dangerously as he stepped forward onto the boardwalk. His appearance was nearly as menacing as the rifle he held pointed at the man restraining Nicki.

“Now, Mister,” said one of the cowboys lifting his hands. “You don’t understand what’s going on. This here is my little brother. He snuck off to town, and Pa sent my friends and me to fetch him home.”

“He doesn’t seem to want to go with you.”

“That’s because he was planning on going to the saloon and gettin’ himself a woman.” Nicki’s captor replied.

All at once Nicki found her voice. “That’s not true. I...” A hand was clamped over her mouth before she could finish.

The cowboy holding her smiled nervously. “He’s a lyin’ little brat too.” He yelped as Nicki sank her teeth into his hand. “Why you little...” He raised the injured hand to cuff his captive, then froze as the rifle barrel jabbed into the underside of his jaw.

“Somehow I find it hard to believe he’s your brother,” Levi said. “Now, are you going to let him go, or am I going to have to get nasty?”

Nicki was released, and all three men backed away. “What business is it of yours whether he’s my brother or not?”

“Let’s just say I don’t like the odds.” Her savior patted his rifle. “My Winchester and I even them up.” He glanced down at Nicki. “Can you shoot this?”

Nicki took the rifle from his hands and fired it once, making a clean hole through one of the cowboy’s hats and sending flying into the street. She ejected the shell and looked up at him.

He grinned. “That answers my question. Is that your wagon in front of the store?” Nicki nodded again, and he squeezed her shoulder. “Good. Keep these sidewinders covered while I go get it.”

In a matter of minutes, the wagon rattled to a stop beside Nicki and she felt the large, comforting presence next to her once more.

“Well, son, I’ve had enough excitement for one day. What do you say we leave these gentlemen to find other entertainment and be on our way?”

With a nod, Nicki handed him the gun. Barely glancing at the big bay mare tied to the back, she climbed into the wagon, picked up the reins and waited for him to join her. Then, with a sharp snap of the reins across the rumps of the horses, they headed out of town.

“Friends of yours?” he asked.

Nicki snorted. “Not hardly. They’re two bit cowpokes from the Bar X Ranch.” She glanced at her companion. Without the steely glint in his eyes he wasn’t nearly as intimidating. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in that.”

He shrugged. “Looked to me like you were doing all right. If there’d been one less of them I’d have probably had to save the other two from you.”

She was vaguely embarrassed by the compliment. “Well...thanks anyway.”

“Glad I could help out. By the way, the name’s Levi Cantrell.”

“Nicki Chandler.”

“Pleased to meet you, Nicki.” With a friendly smile, Levi extended his hand to her. The large callused palm was pleasantly warm as it closed over Nicki’s smaller one. In spite of his size, there was something reassuring about his ready smile and twinkling eyes.

“It’ll be late when we get home. Would you like to stay for supper?” Nicki asked impulsively.

“Maybe you should ask your mother first.”

“Don’t have one, and I do the cooking,” Nicki said sharply, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, Papa will want to meet you.”

“In that case, I accept,” he said with a smile. Pulling out his bag of tobacco, Levi glanced back at his companion. He knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a mother. His own had died when he was barely two, and he’d been nearly thirteen before his father remarried.

Levi rolled himself a cigarette, licked the edge, twisted the ends and stuck it in his mouth. At any rate, a home-cooked meal would be a welcome change from his usual fare of beans over the campfire even if it meant another cold night under the stars. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a match and struck it on the wagon seat. With a satisfied sigh, he relaxed and bid an unlamented farewell to his thoughts of a hot bath and soft bed at the saloon.

Blog # 1 Beginnings
When I finished writing Willow Creek in 1989, I started submitting it for publication. Unlike the query letters for Shadows in the Wind which hit the publishers and bounced right back at me , Willow Creek actually got a few bites. One of them was from an editor at Harper Collins. They had just opened a new line of women’s fiction called Monogram and were looking for books. The editor asked to see the whole manuscript.

I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was. It was my first shot at a real editor! I dutifully printed the manuscript, which took about three days back then, and sent it off. Once again it came flying back to me with a form rejection letter. From the pristine condition of the manuscript, it was pretty obvious no one had read past the first page or two. I was devastated. I had spent a great deal time polishing that beginning. The words flowed in an almost poetic cadence that was music to the ear. What was wrong with that editor that she couldn’t see that?

Soon afterwards, I attended a Wyoming Writer’s conference. The main speaker was a New York editor by the name of Michael Seidman. I’ll never forget his first words to us. “I’m your worst nightmare,” he said. “If I didn’t exist, Stephen King would have invented me!” He went on to tell us how he had walked into his office at 7:30 A.M. the previous morning to find something like two hundred book proposals and manuscripts on his desk. By 10:00 every single one of them was in the mail with a form rejection letter. “You have exactly three minutes to impress me,” he said and paused for a moment while every writer in the room sat there opened-mouthed thinking what a jerk he was.

Then he continued. “Picture a woman in the grocery store. She’s in a hurry to get home and start dinner. There is a child in the cart and another hanging onto her pant leg. On a whim she decides to treat herself to a novel and stops by the book rack. At first she scans the titles until she find one that appeals to her and picks it up. She reads the blurb on the back then turns to the first page and reads a paragraph or two, flips through a few pages then puts it back on the rack. That’s all the time I have to sell your book and it’s a whole lot less than three minutes. It’s vital that you grab them with the fist sentence.”

It made a lot of sense and suddenly the beginning of Willow Creek popped into my head. I had started by introducing my two characters. A mysterious stranger rides into town and ties his horse to the hitching rack in front of the store. The scene switches to the interior of the store where a young boy (actually Nicki) chats with the storekeeper. In the middle of the conversation the stranger enters. I think they exchange a word or two like strangers might and then the boy goes outside. The point of view changes to Levi who buys some tobacco, and asks where he can get a bath and a bed for the night. He is directed to the saloon and walks out of the store just as the cowboys get the best of Nicki.

With Seidman’s words still tumbling through my mind, I realized that the beginning of Willow Creek needed help. In fact it was downright boring! At the same conference I recall someone saying you need to grab your reader, throw them straight into the action, and don’t let them up for air until the end of chapter three!” When I got home I took an honest look at my manuscript and was surprised to discover that those first three pages of sparkling prose really didn’t contain anything but some really great description of the town and my two main characters. I realized nothing actually happened for a full three pages. In the end it turned out to be a pretty easy though I remember it being quite painful at the time. All I did was cut off that first three pages and start with Nicki in mortal peril. Oddly enough there wasn’t a thing in those three pages that needed to be salvaged. Even the description of the characters was accomplished in a single line.

Two years later, the same editor at Harper bought Murphy’s Rainbow and asked to see the other two books in the trilogy. After a couple of weeks she called and offered me a contract for Shadows in the Wind, Willow Creek and two books I hadn’t written yet. (which turned out to be Meadowlark and A Window in Time) She never even realized she had rejected Willow Creek two years before and I certainly never told her.

I’ve never forgotten the lesson I learned. Every book begins with a bang, and so does nearly every chapter. I hope that tossing you right into the action with Nicki and Levi caught your interest. Better take a deep breath because the ride is about to begin!

Issue #2 By the time they reached the homestead, the sun was low in the west. Instead of the simple sod shanty typical of the area, the cabin was constructed of peeled logs and built in two sections. Though he smaller addition was separated from the main dwelling by a narrow dogtrot, the roof extended over both. Beyond the house lay a large barn, a fair sized corral and several other out buildings where chickens slowly meandered toward their roost for the night. To the east, a small creek gurgled by several tall cottonwoods, giving the homestead an air of tranquility.

Nicki jumped down from the wagon and smiled shyly up at her new friend. “Come in and meet Papa. He’s been sick, and he’ll be pleased to have company.”

Levi followed Nicki into a small but immaculate kitchen. Well scrubbed pots and pans hung on hooks by the cook stove, a set of blue dishes lined a shelf and bright calico curtains hung at the window. The furnishings were simple and, Levi’s first impression was one of cozy welcome.

“Is that you, Nicki?”

“Yes, Papa.” Nicki walked to an open doorway off the kitchen. “We have company.”

“Company?” There was a creak of bed ropes. “I didn’t hear anybody ride up.”

Cyrus Chandler’s welcoming smile barely faltered at the sight of a stranger. He was fairly tall, but the gaunt frame and unhealthy pallor showed the effects of a long illness.

“Papa, this is Levi Cantrell,” Nicki said. “Mr. Cantrell, my father, Cyrus Chandler.”

The older man’s grip was surprisingly strong as he shook hands with Levi. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cantrell. Are you a new neighbor?”

“No, I’m just passing through. Nicki and I met in town, and I was going the same way so...”

“We don’t get many visitors out here. Will you stay to supper and tell us all the news?”

“Thank you, Mr. Chandler. I’d be pleased to.” Levi grinned broadly. “Besides, your son already invited me.”

“My...” He glanced at Nicki, and a flash of comprehension crossed his face. “Ah, well good.”

Nicki’s face turned red, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. “It’s getting late,” she mumbled. “I’d better start chores.”

Levi stared after her in surprise as she hurried out the door.

Cyrus Chandler smiled. “You’ll have to forgive Nicki. Er...he’s a bit shy.”

“He is?” Levi glanced toward the door again with a look of mild curiosity. “Now, that’s something I’d never have guessed.”

“It comes and goes,” Cyrus said drily. “Have a seat.” He eased himself into a chair and regarded the man before him with great interest. Nicki had never brought anyone home before, much less a man. She was far more likely to chase them off at gunpoint. “How did you meet Nicki?”

“He was having a problem with three cowpokes from the Bar X.” Levi said. “The boy was holding his own, but things were starting to get out of hand. I just evened up the odds a bit.”

Cyrus gave Nicki a sharp look as she came through the door carrying some of the supplies from the wagon. “Mr. Cantrell tells me you had a run in with some of Herman Lowell’s men.”

“They were drunk and looking for a fight. That’s all there was to it, Papa. They didn’t have the faintest idea who I was.”

“That’s not the point, Nicki. You need to be more careful. If Mr. Cantrell hadn’t come along when he did, you might have been in serious trouble.”

“I really didn’t do that much,” Levi put in. “I think those cowpokes will think twice before they tangle with your son. He hurt them far worse than they hurt him.” He shifted his gaze to Nicki. “You said something about chores. Why don’t I unload the wagon for you?”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll be done that much faster.”

“Well, all right,” Nicki said reluctantly.

Within a short time Levi had the supplies unloaded and was headed toward the barn. He had just started unharnessing the horses when he heard a stealthy noise behind him. He whirled around and found himself face to face with the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Cautiously, Levi raised his eyes to the man behind the gun.

Though he was several inches shorter than Levi, the stocky build and broad shoulders made any thought of heroics foolhardy. The man’s features were indistinct in the dim light of the barn, but the determined set of the square jaw and the unwinking stare were distinctly menacing.

Slowly Levi raised his hands and smiled uneasily. “Just putting the horses away for Nicki,” he said. “No harm intended.”

Silently, threateningly, the man continued to stare at him.

“I’ll leave if you want.” Levi slowly started to move back, but the cocking of the rifle stopped him in mid-step. “Why don’t we just go on up to the house and talk to Mr. Chandler,” Levi said. The man might have been carved from stone for all the emotion he was showing.

“Peter!” Suddenly, Nicki was between them gesturing wildly. The man looked away from Levi but didn’t lower the rifle. Watching Nicki’s hands, he shook his head and nodded toward Levi.

“Nicki, what...,” Levi began.

“Mr. Cantrell, please. He’s nervous enough.” Nicki continued to move her hands, repeatedly linking her two forefingers. “He’s a friend, Peter. I brought him home.” Nicki reached over and removed the rifle from Peter’s grasp.

Peter looked at Levi again and began moving his hands as Nicki had. With a start, Levi realized they were communicating. The interplay between the two continued for several minutes. Finally, apparently satisfied, Peter retrieved his gun from Nicki and turned away.

“Let’s go back to the house, Mr. Cantrell,” Nicki said. Peter will see to the horses.”

Slowly Levi lowered his hands and followed Nicki out of the barn. “Your brother?” he asked in a low voice when they were finally outside.

“As far as I’m concerned he is, though I guess he’s really my cousin.”

“I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Nicki said. “Peter can’t hear you...he’s deaf.”

A look of comprehension crossed Levi’s face. “That’s why you talked to him with your hands. Your sign language wasn’t from any tribe I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t
understand any of it.”

“It’s the sign language the deaf speak on Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts.”

Levi raised his brows in surprise. “That’s a mighty long way from here.”

“I know. My aunt lived in Boston but moved there when Peter lost his hearing. He came to live with us when his mother died.”

“And the sign language is the only way he can communicate?”

Nicki shook her head. “He doesn’t speak, but he reads lips pretty well.”

“He didn’t read mine. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen... well, I mean he didn’t seem understand.”

“It was dark in the barn, and you have a beard. Peter couldn’t see your lips. Peter has suffered a great deal of abuse from people. Because he’s deaf and mute, they seem to think he’s stupid too.”

“So he’s leery of strangers.” Levi raised an eyebrow. “It seems I owe you a big thanks. If you hadn’t come in when you did I’d probably have wound up six feet under.” His friendly slap on the back nearly knocked her off her feet. Nicki caught her balance with an uncertain smile and tried to match his long strides as they walked to the house.

BLOG #2 Cyrus and Peter
Generally, the beginning of a book is the most difficult to write. There is, of course, that urgent need to grab the reader and drag them in. Even that is secondary to introducing the characters and setting without interrupting the flow of the story or being obvious about it. What makes it even harder, is that at this point in the book, the writer really doesn’t know the characters. Since this was only my second book I was a bit disconcerted by the fact that the easy flow of my first book had disappeared. And yet, from the first page, the characters were three dimensional, something I had found difficult to achieve in Shadows in the Wind.

Both Levi and Nicki gain depth here, and we discover at least part of the main conflict of the book; Nicki’s hatred of the big ranchers. For those who have read the other two books in the series, the other half is immediately obvious as well, for Levi Cantrell is one of those despised ranchers.

Two secondary characters also show up here, Cyrus and Peter. When I created Cyrus I didn’t intentionally model him after anyone. I did, however, know that he was very ill. The disease called consumption was most generally tuberculosis, but I suspect the label was used for many other lung ailments as well. With that in mind I used the one lung disease I was familiar with, emphysema. My father died of it in 1969 when I was sixteen, so I was more than passingly familiar with the symptoms. I thought about my father a great deal as I was creating Cyrus Chandler so that I would get the illness right. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had inadvertently captured a great deal of his personality as well. The keen intelligence and visionary view of the future are as much my father as the wasted body and difficulty breathing. Cyrus Chandler is not my father, but they share many of the same characteristics. It caused some problems for me down the line but we’ll get to that later.

There is no one in my life even remotely like Peter. At the time I was writing this book, I was involved in sign language classes. It is the one thing I have ever done in my life for which I seemed to have a natural aptitude and I became fascinated with the deaf community. Peter was a natural outgrowth of that interest and is one of my most favorite characters. He is definitely my most unique to date. He represented many challenges, not the least of which was coming up with dialog tags to go along with his speech. There are only so many ways to say he moved his hands.

Nicki’s tale about the deaf on Martha’s Vineyard is true, by the way. Because of a genetic defect shared among the inhabitants of the island, many of them were deaf. In order to communicate, they developed the first sign language used in the U.S. I don’t know if strangers were welcomed or that a woman with a deaf child would have moved there in the 1800’s but it was the only way I could give Peter an understanding of sign language.

I should perhaps mention, the signs Peter uses are not accurate. His sign language was the same that I was learning. It is a combination of ASL (American Sign Language) and SEE (Signing Exact English) and is used throughout the United States. The sign language Peter learned as a child on Martha’s Vineyard predated ASL by many years, though I understand many ASL signs had their origins from that early language.

If you are as fascinated by sign language as I am you may want to check out the link below. It is an on-line sign language dictionary. While you’re there check out Dr. Bill’s finger spelling tool. It’s a fun way to learn basic finger spelling or brush up on your rusty skills as I did.

Click here for an online sign language dctionary

Issue # 3

“All done?” Cyrus asked when they came in the door.

“Yes.” Nicki took off her hat and her fingers through her short curly hair. “Mr. Cantrell took the horses to the barn and ran into Peter. I never thought to warn either of them.”

“Did he give you any trouble?”

“A little, but I can’t say I blame him much. It must have looked like I was stealing the horses.” Levi’s eyes unconsciously strayed to the small figure working at the stove. Something bothered him about Nicki but he couldn’t quite place what was. He dismissed the thought as he pulled up a chair and turned his attention to Cyrus. “This is a real nice place you have here.”

“Thanks.” Cyrus smiled with pride. “Ten years ago it was just another patch of sagebrush.”

“Ten years?” Levi was amazed. “You’ve accomplished a lot in a short time.”

“We’ve got plenty of water, the soil’s good, and the three of us are willing to work.” He took a sip from his coffee cup and glanced out the window. “We settled in Iowa for a few years after we left Massachusetts, but Lady Luck didn’t smile on us until we came here. With irrigation, our crops do extremely well. Our cattle even seem to do better than most of our neighbors’.”

“That isn’t luck,” Nicki said. “We just use more common sense than they do. Herman Lowell lets his cows calve out on the open range. Too bad if that happens to be in the middle of a blizzard, or there’s a rustler nearby with a running iron,” she slammed a stack of dishes down on the table so hard they rattled. “I’m sick of the ‘cattle barons’ blaming all their problems on homesteaders and small ranchers. It’s their own incompetence that’s destroying them.” Each plate emphasized her disapproval as it thumped onto the table. “When they’re gone, people like us will still be here because we plan ahead.”

The tirade was obviously not unusual because Cyrus paid no attention as he looked at the table in surprise. “The good dishes, Nicki?”

“Nicki stared blankly down at the blue china she held in her hands. “We don’t have company very often, and I just thought....”

Cyrus smiled and patted her back as her voice trailed off. “If company isn’t occasion enough to use the good dishes, I don’t know what is.”

Levi found the entire exchange bewildering. What adolescent boy cared a hoot about what dishes they used? How many even noticed? Nicki Chandler was the damnedest boy he’d ever met.

Cyrus gave Nicki a final pat and turned back to Levi. “So tell me, Mr. Cantrell, what line of work are you in?”

“Call me Levi,” he said then quirked an eyebrow as though considering the question. “I’ve always thought of myself as a cowhand but most recently I was a sailor.”

“A sailor! I’d have never peg you for a man of the sea.”

“I wasn’t one by choice.” The blue-gray eyes twinkled. “I chose the wrong tavern to drown my sorrows in. The next thing I knew I was on my way to China with one hell of a hangover and a lump the size of a goose egg on my head.”

Nicki eyed him skeptically. “I thought nobody who got shanghaied ever made it back.”

Levi shrugged. “It’s a pretty rough life, but it’s really no harder than being a cowhand. You’re already used to being out in the worst kind of weather and you use the same muscles to work the rigging you use to throw a steer or pitch hay. Once I got my sea legs and convinced a few hard bitten sea dogs it was easier to be friends than enemies, I managed.”

Nicki raised an eyebrow. “You’re a long way from the coast.”

“I had enough of the sea to last me a lifetime. I only stayed with it long enough to get back home.”

“You’re on you’re way home then?” Cyrus asked.

“I was already there. After a couple of months I was ready to leave again.” Levi gave a rueful smile. “I guess the roving gets in the blood.

Nicki was setting the food on the table when Peter slid silently into his place. Levi smiled at him in a friendly way but the only response was a cold, stare. That stare remained fixed firmly in place all the way through supper.

Cyrus and Levi were soon deep in conversation. Even with frequent coughing spells interrupting the two men’s talk, it didn’t take long for Levi to realize a keen mind inhabited the wasted body. Since the food was delicious and the company congenial, Levi was able to ignore Peter’s hostile attitude enough to enjoy his meal. Still, he relieved when Peter finished eating, made some quick signs to Cyrus, and disappeared into the night.

After another half hour of conversation Levi uncrossed his arms and scooted back his chair. “I’d best be going. Thanks for supper and a very enjoyable evening. “

“Where are you headed?” Nicki asked curiously.

“Don’t know really. Right now I’m just going where the wind takes me.”

Cyrus coughed painfully and stood up. “Well, it was a good wind that brought you our way. We can’t offer you much, but you’re welcome to bed down in the barn tonight if you like.”

“I’m much obliged. A pile of hay is a whole lot more comfortable than the ground.”

“It’s the least we can do. We’ll expect you for breakfast in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

Cyrus gave a satisfied nod and gestured to Nicki. “Give me a hand to bed...son. I’m tired.”


“I’ve been thinking,” Cyrus began as his daughter helped him into bed. “Maybe it’s time we hired a man to help out around here.”

Nicki looked at him in surprise. “What for?”

“There’s too much work for just you and Peter.”

“Oh Papa, you’ll feel better as soon as it warms up. Look how much better you are already. Last week you couldn’t even get out of bed and tonight you were up for hours!”

Busily fluffing her father’s pillow Nicki missed the sad, almost pitying look he gave her. “Besides who would you hire? Everybody around here either has their own place or they work for The Bar X.”

“I was thinking of asking Levi Cantrell if he’d stay for a while,” he said, watching her closely.

“What?” Nicki whirled around, her eyes wide with dismay.

“I thought you liked him.”

“But we don’t know anything about him.”

Cyrus shrugged. “We know he’s a good man, otherwise he’d have just let those cowboys have their fun with you.”

“Oh Papa, you’re too trusting. Maybe he’s the sort who likes to throw his weight around. Those men weren’t really any danger to him. He had a rifle; they were unarmed and drunk besides. For all we know he may be a gunslinger or worse.”

“Gunslingers carry six-guns not rifles,” Cyrus said. “The fact he’s not afraid of a fight is a good reason for him to stay. If we run into trouble with the Bar X outfit we’ll need help. Levi Cantrell is big enough to take care of just about any problem that comes up.”

“Peter and I do just fine. We don’t need some two-bit drifter to get in our way. Cantrell said himself he’s just passing through. What happens when he gets itchy feet again?”

“I suppose he’ll leave. We won’t be any worse off than we are right now, and we’ll probably get some work out of him first.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” Nicki grumbled. “There’s something about him that makes me nervous.”

“You liked him well enough to invite him to supper. What changed your mind?”

“I figured I owed him a meal. I didn’t know you were going to ask him to stay!”

“I haven’t yet,” he reminded her. “In fact I haven’t made up my mind whether I will or not. I’ll sleep on it tonight a see what the morning brings.”

“I hope it brings you some sense. It’s a stupid idea if you ask me,” Nicki snapped.

Cyrus gave a small laugh. “You’re afraid of what he’ll do when he finds out you’re a woman aren’t you?”

Nicki glowered at him.

“Nicki, Nicki, you have nothing to worry about. Levi will like you just as well as a woman.”

Nicki stomped out muttering, “Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” But she knew it wasn’t Levi that frighten her. It was herself.”

As she crawled into bed, Nicki thought of her unexplainable attraction to Levi Cantrell. It terrified her. When Samantha Chandler had run away with a handsome, but worthless gambler, Nicki had thought she was free of her mother forever. But as she’d grown older the cracked mirror on her bedroom wall had begun to tell a different story. The day she’d seen her mother’s face staring back at her, she cut her hair short and began wearing boy’s clothes.

Repeatedly, Nicki had told herself she might look like her mother but she was completely different inside. She had believed it too, until today. From the first second she’d seen Levi Cantrell she’d been drawn to him like a magnet. She’d convinced herself it was gratitude that made her invite him to supper, but deep inside she knew she had wanted to spend a little time with him.

“Well, you may just get your wish!” she mumbled punching her pillow in frustration. “But then what?” There was no answer from the darkness
******
As he lay out his bedroll on a sweet smelling bed of hay, Levi contemplated the family he’d just met. In spite of the boy’s almost feminine mannerisms, there was something very appealing about Nicki Chandler. Loyalty and courage like his were rare in full-grown men, let alone a boy who was years from shaving. Levi grinned to himself as he wondered what would happen if Nicki knew one of the despised ranchers was bedded down in the barn.

Then he sobered. Without being as expert in such matters, Levi was almost certain Cyrus Chandler was suffering from consumption. It was only a matter of time before Nicki and Peter would be alone. Haunted by a pair of violet eyes and a man old before his time, it was a long time before Levi was able to sleep.

BLOG # 3 The History behind Willow Creek
Most of my books are centered around historical happenings. To understand the conflict in Willow Creek, we need to take a look at the history on which it is based. What is now Wyoming is part of the vast prairie land that stretched across much of the interior of the continent. Buffalo roamed this land in vast herds, sometimes a million strong. Over the eons the American bison had evolved into a creature supremely fitted for its ecosystem. Not only did they keep the prairie grasses cropped, and provide fertilizer in the form of buffalo chips, they also kept the stream banks free of the plant life that would overgrow the water and choke out life by blocking the sun. The prairie needed the buffalo as much as the buffalo needed the prairie, but the balance was delicate. Too many buffalo and the prairie would be over-grazed. Luckily, Mother Nature has a way of balancing things. Even today, when buffalo herds get too big, the disease brucellosis spreads among the pregnant mothers causing them to lose their calves. Even before the land was settled and tamed, the fluctuating size of the buffalo herds was a natural part of the ecosystem.

In the 1850’s a few white people ventured into the area and realized it was perfectly suited for cattle, which were, after all, much like buffalo. Texas, meanwhile, was full of wild cattle that were there for the taking. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. A few enterprising souls rounded up great herds of wild Texas Longhorns and trailed them North to the open range where they turned their herds loose to multiply. And multiply they did. The northward migration of cattle just happened to coincide with a downward spiral of the buffalo herds. As the mighty herds dwindled, the cattle filled the ecological niche and their numbers grew. Huge tracts of land were needed too, as the cattle roamed the prairie just like the buffalo. With sweat and blood the cattlemen carved huge empires out of the unforgiving land. It was a difficult life but a profitable one. The cattle they raised fed a growing nation and provided a good living for the few men hardy enough to battle the wilderness.

At the end of the Civil War, the United States government found itself with a large number of unemployed soldiers, immigrants and displaced Southerners as well as a great deal of unoccupied public land in the West. The Homestead Act provided a 160 acre tract of land to those willing to farm it for five years and make improvements on it. To war-weary soldiers, landless Easterners barely able to eke out a living in the post-war depression, and immigrants fresh from Europe, it must have seemed like a dream come true. Like the cattleman before them, homesteaders flocked to the West by the thousands, legally claiming land the cattlemen had considered their own for twenty years or more.

The conflict between the homesteaders and the large cattle ranchers was inevitable. A multitude of books and movies have been written about it, usually portraying one side or the other as the “good-guys” and the other side as the bad. The truth is neither side was completely wrong, or completely right. Both had a legitimate claim to the land and more importantly, the water. By the time Willow Creek opens, events were already in motion that would eventually culminate in the infamous Johnson County Cattle War less than ten years after this book closes.

My great-grandparents were definitely homesteaders and I grew up on the ranch they homesteaded in the late1880’s. However, since we raised cattle and sheep as well as crops, I grew up able to see both sides. When I set out to write this book, it occurred to me I had a somewhat unique perspective and that maybe it was time to set the record straight.

Nicki Chandler is a homesteader through and through. She can’t see why the cattlemen think they have a right to the land even though they have lived there for twenty years. To her, they lost any claim they might have had by not taking out homesteads.

Herman Lowell was one of the first men to settle near the Nowood. He has spent twenty-five years battling Indians, predators, rustlers and the elements to establish the Bar X. The water from the Willow Creek Spring has provided graze and water his cattle for the better part of three decades. An uneasy truce has existed between the two families since the Chandler’s arrival but now drought stalks the land, drying up waterholes and shriveling grass.

Enter Levi Cantrell. The Cantrells aren’t exactly cattle barons, but they do have a huge ranch and the sale of livestock is their livelihood. Still at the core of the Triple C Bar ranch lie 960 acres of homesteaded land so Levi is not unsympathetic to the concept of homesteading, though his views are definitely those of a rancher.

And so the story begins. I hope you enjoy your visit to Nowood, and the little homestead on Willow Creek.

Issue #4
Ka-Thwok,...ka-thwok,...ka-thwok.

Nicki opened her eyes and spent several seconds trying to identify the sound that had awaken her. Sleep still clouded her mind as she rose and walked to the window. The eastern horizon was barely turning pink as she squinted into the half-light of dawn. Then her eyes widened in surprise. Levi was splitting firewood in the early morning chill.

Her gaze followed the strong line of his back down to the trim waist and long muscular legs while he swung the ax with effortless strength. As the sun peeked over the horizon, rays of sunlight caught tiny glints of red and gold in his hair and beard. Something quivered deep inside. What was there about this man that made her feel so strange?

Suddenly Nicki was wide-awake. It wasn’t even full light yet and Levi was already working while she stood here gawking like a fool. She dressed hastily and hurried to the kitchen to start breakfast.

In the other bedroom Cyrus stood by the window watching Levi. “So you’re not afraid of a little work,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Well, Mr. Cantrell, I think you might be just what I’ve been looking for.”

“Good morning,” Levi said cheerful twenty minutes later as he dumped a huge arm load of wood into the wood box.

“Good morning Levi,” Cyrus said from his chair at the table. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

Levi grinned and patted his flat stomach. “I’m hardly ever late for a meal.” He glanced at Nicki dumping flour into a bowl and reached for the empty water buckets. “I’ll just fill these first.”

“No!” Nicki almost dropped the bowl in her haste to grab the bucket nearest her before Levi could pick it up. “That’s my job.”

Levi shook his head and gently removed her hand from the bail. “Not this morning it isn’t. A man has to do something to earn his breakfast.”

“But...”

“No buts,” he said over his shoulder as he strode out of the house. They could hear him whistling as he pulled the bucket up from the well.

At the sound of a smothered chuckle, Nicki glared at her father.

“I think you may have to swallowed your pride on this one,” Cyrus told her. “He’s only being helpful you know.”

“I don’t want him to be helpful,” she muttered turning back to the stove. She managed a brittle
“Thanks,” when Levi set the brimming buckets next to the stove several minutes later but she didn’t look up from the large bowl of batter she was stirring.

Levi gave her a puzzled look but joined Cyrus at the table without saying a word.

It wasn’t long before Nicki slapped a plate of flapjacks on the table in front of him and walked away. Levi glanced up in surprise. Was the boy angry just because he’d given him a hand? How strange. Most boys would be delighted to get out of some of their chores.

As he ate, Levi found himself idly watching Nicki working over the hot stove. Funny how the word pretty kept coming to mind, but there was no other way to describe the combination of delicate facial features, violet eyes, and curly black hair. When Nicki reached up and smoothed a strand hair back from her face, Levi felt a twinge of something akin to distaste. Someone really should take the boy in hand and explain a few things to him. Built the way he was and with that face he’d need to be very careful of the gestures he used unconsciously. To watch him, you’d almost think he was a wo....

Levi’s eyes widened in disbelief as an incredible idea burst into full bloom. Was it possible? For a long moment he sat there with his fork suspended in midair, forgotten. At last, he became aware of Cyrus grinning at him from across the table.

Nicki suddenly stopped stirring. “Oh, darn, I forgot to wake up Peter.” She hurried out the side door and Levi gazed after her in shock.

Cyrus chuckled. “I take it you just figured out Nicki’s little secret.”

Levi carefully set his fork back on his plate, too stunned to even put his thoughts into words.

Cyrus’s grin broadened until Levi began the think the older man’s face would split. “If I were you I wouldn’t let on you know right away. She’s mighty sensitive about it for some reason.”

“Why?”

“Who knows? I gave up trying to figure out women long ago.” Cyrus sighed. “I keep hoping she’ll come to her senses, but there’s no arguing with her until she does.”

Levi nodded silently, his mind still trying to grasp the significance of his discovery. How could he have been so blind? From the first he’d thought there was something more to Nicki than met the eye, but that was about the only accurate observation he’d made. Levi was a man who prided himself on his ability to see through people, a skill that had been woefully lacking this time. If nothing else, he should have realized Nicki was female by his reaction to her. He’d never be attracted to any boy that way, not even one with beautiful eyes.

“Last night it sounded like you might be looking for work. I’ve been thinking of hiring somebody to help out around here.” Cyrus paused. “I can offer you a roof over your head, three square meals a day, and a decent wage. Are you interested?”

Levi took a bite of his breakfast trying to bring order to his confused thoughts. “I might be. What kind of work is it?”

“We don’t have much in the way of stock, but what cattle there are need to be rounded up and branded. Then there’ll be plowing and planting before too long. Other than that, just the usual upkeep, at least until mid-summer.”

Levi contemplated this as he chewed. Maybe it was time to stop for awhile. “I could use a job, but I’ll warn you right now, I’m no a farmer. My experience has always been with horses and cattle. Other than putting up hay, I’ve never done any sort of farm work. I’m willing to learn but I’ll be a complete fool where plowing is concerned.”

Cyrus chuckled. “At least you’re honest. Peter can teach you all you need to know. It isn’t really difficult. Between the two of you there shouldn’t be any reason for Nicki to do it. I’d like to ease her out of as much of the heavy work as I can.”

“Peter hated me on sight.”

“If you treat him like a normal human being instead of an idiot, he’ll come around.”

Levi hardly needed to give the question any thought. He was needed here. Besides, the back- breaking work of a homestead should leave him too tired to be restless. “My father always said it was impossible for me to resist a challenge,” Levi said with a smile. “You just hired yourself a cowhand.”

“Good.” A smile spread across Cyrus’s face. “You’d better finish your flapjacks before Nicki gets back. The mood she’s in, she’s liable to think you don’t like her cooking.”

Blog # 4 The Homestead on Willow Creek

I often use real places as settings in my books. Willow Creek isn’t one of them, but there is a weird connection that I didn’t discover until later. When I started to write the book, I had a vague idea where the homestead lay. If you leave Riverton heading for the Gas Hills, you will eventually wind up in Casper. Not many people travel that way since most of it is on dirt road and the highway is considerably faster. Most of the trip is through dry desolate sagebrush, but tucked away between two high hills is pretty little valley with a stream running down through it. The first time I saw it I knew it was where the Chandler Homestead was located. It’s on Poison Spider Road, which might also be the name of the creek. Somehow that didn’t seem like a good name for a creek everyone wanted to control, or a good title of a book for that matter. So I used the valley for my setting and named it Willow Creek after the creek that runs through South Pass City a hundred or so miles away. There was really no particular reason to call it Willow Creek, it just popped into my head and I used it.

If you have followed the Blogs from the other two books in this trilogy you will already know that a substantial number of stories and ideas came from my Great grandfather’s autobiography. It's basically his adventures homesteading in Wyoming in the late 1800’s and early 1900's. The story starts after a number of disasters on his farm in Sanduksy, Iowa. Dispirited and defeated Charlie Lampman decided to go West and have a look around with his brother Albert and his brother-inlaw Dan Doty. The three were close friends as well as relatives and stayed together until they got to Buffalo, Wyoming. There they split up with Charlie and Albert crossing the Big Horns to what is now Shell, Wyoming and Dan going north to Montana where he eventually settled.

Time for an odd bit of Lampman genealogy. My Great grandfather Charlie Lampman married Mary Doty. Nothing strange there, people got married all the time, still do in fact. Even the fact that Mary’s father, John Doty, remarried after the death of his first wife and had another family wasn’t unusual. What is unusual is that John Doty’s second marriage was to Susanna Lampman Charlie Lampman’s older sister. John’s first family included my great grandmother and her brother Dan who went West with Albert and Charlie. John’s second family, the one he had with Susan, produced three children who were first cousins to my grandfather and his siblings on their mother’s side and aunts and uncle to them on their father’s side. (Confused yet? I always was. )

Fast forward to 1994. Over a hundred years had passed with five generations of Lampmans and Dotys making their mark on the West. The younger generations, separated by time and distance, were only vaguely aware of the Doty/Lampman connection from bits and pieces of stories told by their grandparents and great grandparents and none of them really understood other than there were some double cousin or something somewhere.

Then my younger brother happened to read an article one day in the Red Lodge newspaper by one Irma Doty Capps telling about some of her Lampman ancestors. My brother sent me the article and I sent him on a mission to track the woman down and find out who she was. It didn’t take him very long and the minute he introduced himself she knew exactly who he was. She used to play with my dad when she was a kid and was thrilled to hear from his son.

Turns out she and her sister were family historians and were more than happy to share their information. Through them I discovered there was a Doty on the Mayflower (who knew?) and another ancestor at Valley Forge. Anyway they got so excited by it all that they decided we needed to have a family reunion of all the Lampmans and Dotys we could scrape together. We almost waited too long. The last time the family had been together was at Charlie Lampman’s funeral in the 1940’s. The people who were teenagers at the last one were now in their 70’s and 80’s. Luckily they had all grown up together and knew each other well. They shared their memories and watched their descendants get to know each other with a kind of delighted wonder.

We spent three glorious days getting to know each other, trading stories, looking at old pictures and trying to untangle it all. None of us ever did, but we all found relatives we didn’t know we had and forged some deep friendships that can only come from a shared history. It was and will always remain a high spot in my life.

So what does all this have to do with Willow Creek? As I said, Dan Doty left my great grandfather Charlie and his brother Albert in Buffalo to go north to Montana where he took out a homestead. That homestead became the focal point for all the Dotys who came later, kind of like our ranch did for the Lampmans. Take a wild guess where he homesteaded. Yup, you guessed it, on Willow Creek! I got goosebumps when I found out. The book was only about three months from release and had been named Willow Creek for at least two years before I knew about the Doty homestead. It’s odd coincidences like that really make you wonder!

Previously in Willow Creek: When Levi gets up at dawn to split firewood, then voluntarily helps with the chores, Cyrus decides to ask him to stay on as a hired hand. Glad of the chance to help, and hoping it will help cure the restlessness in his soul, Levi accepts. As he eats, he idly watches Nicki cook Breakfast. An unconscious feminine gesture on her part gives away her secret and Levi is stunned to discover she is not the adolescent boy he thought, but rather an attractive young woman.

Issue # 5
Levi was just cleaning up the last few bites when Nicki and Peter returned. Peter slid into his place much the same as he had the night before.

“I doubt I’ll be able to do much this spring,” Cyrus said without preamble. After laying down his fork, he signed in same fluid motions Nicki had used. “There’s too much work for just the two of you, so I’ve hired Mr. Cantrell to help out until the spring planting is done.”

Nicki merely nodded and sat down as though the news was expected, if not particularly welcome.

Though Levi hadn’t expected Peter to be overjoyed by the news, he was unprepared for the intense stare the other man directed at him across the table. Unsure how to respond, Levi returned the look with a steady gaze. The silent battle continued until Nicki set a plate in front of Peter, and he turned his attention to his breakfast. Neither was sure who had won the contest, but it left them both readjusting his idea of the other.

Cyrus and Levi carried on a friendly conversation during the rest of the meal while Nicki covertly observed them. In Levi’s presence Cyrus was different somehow, more relaxed, less gloomy. But then she was beginning to think it was difficult to be morose around Levi Cantrell. His infectious, booming laugh and twinkling, blue-gray eyes were an irresistible combination.

“Mighty good breakfast, Nicki.” Levi slid his chair back. “What did you have in mind for me to do today, Cyrus?”

“We still haven’t cleaned out the spring yet,” Nicki put in before Cyrus had a chance to answer. “I’m sure Mr. Cantrell would be very good at that.”

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. Then, after a moment, he shrugged and picked up his coffee cup. “I guess today’s as good as any to clean the spring. It shouldn’t take the three of you more than a few hours.”

Nicki glared at her father. By suggesting the worst jobs on the homestead she been hoping Mr. Cantrell might yet change his mind and leave. With his usual keen perception, Cyrus had seen through her plan. Angrily, she followed Peter out the house and strode toward the barn.

Levi shook his head as he picked up his hat. “I don’t think your daughter is very happy with any of this.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll come around. She’s just used to have everything her own way.”

Levi sighed as he put on his hat. “Is that why I feel like Daniel going into the lion’s den?”

Cyrus’s chuckle was interrupted by a deep wracking cough as he waved Levi toward the door.

During the ride out to the spring, Nicki and Peter were so obvious in their attempts to make him feel unwanted, Levi found it almost humorous. Not once did either glance in his direction as they talked back and forth in sign language. It appeared to be a very animated conversation, and he had no doubt he was the topic.

Casting an experienced eye over the landscape Levi was impressed with what he saw. When Cyrus Chandler had staked his homestead he had chosen well. The land lay in a small valley surrounded by high hills, protection against hard winds and severe weather. Even water, the most precious of all resources in this near desert, was available. Though it was now nearly dry, a tiny stream trickled down through several small fields still showing the stubble of last year’s crops.

Levi could see the natural creek bed had been widened and deepened in order to carry more water for irrigation. It appeared Cyrus Chandler was a shrewd planner with a great deal of foresight.

“Oh no, what happened?” Nicki’s dismayed voice drew Levi’s attention to the hillside where she and Peter sat looking at a hole in the rocks. It was obviously the spring they had been sent to clean and the source of the tiny stream that ran through ugh the valley. Joining the other two Levi peered down at the clogged opening.

“Looks like the wind blew it full dirt and tumbleweeds over the winter,” he observed. “Shouldn’t be too hard to dig it out.”

“Of course it’s full of trash. That’s why we’re up here.” Nicki pointed to the thin trickle running over the stones and into a small pool. “The pond is usually three times that size.”

Levi dismounted and walked over to the spring. “Did you get much snow last winter?” he asked studying the opening.

“Only a little now and then.” A shadow crossed Nicki’s face. “Not much rain last summer either. It’s going dry isn’t it?”

Hunkering down for a better look, Levi scratched his chin. “Looks like it, but maybe it isn’t as bad as it seems. He stood up and surveyed the entire hill.

“That’s all you know about it! Without that spring we might as well pack up and leave!”

Levi bent and sifted a handful of the sandy soil through his fingers. “The soil around here is like a giant sponge. Any water that hits it soaks in immediately and keeps on going until it hits bed rock and collects there, kind of like a big underground lake.” He pointed to the hole in the hillside. “The top of that lake overflows through this hole, but since the water level is lower hardly any is coming out.”

“That was very educational, Mr. Cantrell, but it doesn’t solve the problem does it?” Nicki’s voice was filled with biting sarcasm.

Levi stood up and dusted his hand against his pants. “No, but if you think about it for a minute the solution is obvious.”

Unwilling to admit it was anything but obvious to her, Nicki silently watched Levi untie the pick-ax and shovel from his saddle. What in the world was he planning?

“You’d better tell Peter we’re going dig a little farther down into the hill to enlarge opening of the spring.” Levi said. “We have to get below the level of the ground water again.”

By the time Peter understood what they were going to do and had taken the horses to a flat area nearby, Levi was already breaking up the dirt and rock near the entrance of the spring with the pick ax. Grudgingly, Nicki picked up a shovel, her mind already searching for ways to assert her authority before Levi took over completely.

It was hard, back breaking labor but it wasn’t long before the three began to see results. Gradually, the size of the entrance increased, and with it the flow of water.

Nicki stepped back and viewed the resulting stream with a pleased look on her face. “So far so good. Now I think we need to get some of this trash out of the way. Peter, you can start by getting rid of all those tumbleweeds.” She said the words aloud as she moved her fingers and Levi realized with a start that Peter was reading her lips as much as her hands. “And you,” she said turning to Levi. “Move those boulders and rocks over there, out of the way.”

For the next twenty minutes Nicki barked out orders to the two men, frequently telling them to redo a job they had just finished. Well aware Nicki was asserting her authority, Levi did as he was told, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when her demands became outrageous.

By the expressions that chased themselves across Peter’s face it was obvious that he wasn’t used to taking orders from Nicki. At first he was plainly astonished, then irritated and finally angry. Watching the muscles bunch in the younger man’s jaw with every shovelful of dirt, Levi decided it was time to do something.

While Nicki’s was studying the slowly filling pool below, Levi glanced up the hill to find Peter staring belligerently at her back. When he waved his hand to get Peter’s attention, the young man’s gaze dropped to him in surprise.

It was impossible not to understand Levi’s meaning as he pointed his thumb at Nicki and then nodded toward the pool with raised eyebrows. Peter’s face broke into a grin.

The smile was all the encouragement Levi needed. He slung Nicki over his shoulder and strode to the edge of the pool where he dropped her seat first into the muddy water.

Gasping in shock at the unexpected attack, she glared up at Levi who stood there calmly returning her look.

“If you’re going to be the boss you’d better start acting like it instead of some petty little tyrant,” he said.

“Petty little....” Like a striking snake, her hand shot out and struck the back of his left knee.
Unprepared for retaliation, Levi’s knee buckled and he toppled into the frigid water next to Nicki. He hadn’t even come up for air before she was upon him, pummeling him with small fists.

Levi grasped the slim waist with the crook of his elbow, and threw himself forward in self-defense. He regretted the action almost immediately as Nicki jerked her right hand free and scooped water into his face. Levi lost his hold as he reared back in surprise and was nearly drowned under a deluge of water. Coughing and sputtering, he struggled to his feet in an effort to escape her attack.

Nicki stood up and marched out of the pool in dignified retreat. Dumping the self-assured Levi Cantrell into the mud was a good lesson for him. Her eyes narrowed in disgust as she glanced up the hill at Peter. Instead of coming to her defense, he was leaning on his shovel with a wide grin on his face. She might have known the incident would appeal to his twisted sense of humor.

Angrily, she looked at Levi and saw he too was smiling. How dare they laugh at her humiliation! On the verge of telling them both off, Nicki suddenly realized how ridiculous she and Levi must have looked flailing around in the muddy water. Levi started to chuckle, and before she could stop herself a bubble of laughter rose in her throat. Animosity forgotten, they laughed together in the early spring sunshine.

It wasn’t until cool air began to make Nicki uncomfortable in her wet clothes, that she realized how successfully Levi had thwarted her. Instead of giving orders, she joined the other two in the actual work simply to get the job done faster so she could go home and change clothes.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she could see no sign of smugness, but she had the uncomfortable feeling things had pretty much gone the way he’d wanted them to. Apparently Levi Cantrell was a more worthy opponent than she had first realized.

The cold March air combined with their damp clothes forced Nicki and Levi to return to the house early, leaving a still grinning Peter behind to finish the last of the work. Miffed about her dunking, Nicki ignored her companion, and they rode in silence for several minutes.

Finally, he spoke. “Will you teach me to talk to Peter?”

“What?”

“I want to be able to talk to Peter. Will you teach me how?”

She stared at him, totally dumbfounded by his request. “Peter doesn’t talk.”

The irrepressible twinkle appeared as he turned to look at her. “Yes he does. I’ve seen him do it, apparently with great eloquence. I know he reads lips, but I can’t understand what he says and I communicate with him in his own language.”

“Why do you want to? So you can make fun of him to his face?”

The twinkle died and was replaced by a frown. “Is that what you think?”
Nicki shrugged uncomfortably, wondering why she suddenly felt so mean and petty. “Ever since I’ve known Peter, people have either treated him as though he had some horrible, contagious disease or like he was a drooling idiot.”

“I’m not like that, Nicki,” Levi said. “If Peter and I are going to work together we need to be able to understand each other. So will you teach me his language?”

“I’m not sure...I mean I never....” Nicki sighed helplessly. “It’s not as easy as it looks you know.”

“Are you afraid I can’t learn it, or that you can’t teach it? Look, Nicki, the worst that can happen is me looking like a fool, and I’m willing to take that chance.”

“All right, but don’t blame me if it doesn’t work.” Nicki was rewarded with a warm smile that for some unfathomable reason made her heart pound and her mouth go dry. Grimly she set her jaw and urged her horse on faster. Levi Cantrell was unlike any other man she’d ever known. She’d have to keep a closer eye on him in the future.

BLOG # 5 Characters

Since this was my second book, I had learned something about creating characters. Though I was still pretty much a neophyte, I knew there had to be conflict between the hero and heroine or you didn’t have a story. I already knew Levi was a pretty nice guy; it was obvious in Shadows in the Wind. That meant the heroine had to be the one with issues. At that point I didn’t know enough about characterization to realize that I could have two nice people as characters, so I set out to create my heroine.

I didn’t want her to be mean or hateful but she couldn’t really be sweet either. I tried to make her the opposite of Levi. He was a very large man, so Nicki was petite. Levi never met a stranger in his life and was friendly to all who came his way. Nicki was suspicious of strangers and worked at being unfriendly to people she knew. The rest of her character seemed to fall into place. I knew, for instance, that she had short dark hair and preferred male attire. She was an incredible rider, and preferred horses to people. When asked to describe her in ten words or less I said, “A five foot tall, ninety pound tomboy with an attitude.” Which pretty much nailed her personality.

Somewhere between books I had discovered a character chart. Thinking it might prove quite useful, I copied it, brought it home, tweaked it a bit and typed it onto my computer. I’ve been using it in one form or another ever since. I filled one out for each of my characters and was quite surprised at what I found. They truly were opposites in every way. The most telling of all were their philosophies on life. Levi’s was: If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. and Nicki’s was: Eat or be eaten. The minute I read that I knew I had the conflict of my book.

Peter was another matter entirely. I was taking a class in sign language and loving every minute of it. The woman who taught the class had spent a lot of time in the deaf community. She shared enough of the culture that I became quite interested and started to do a bit of research. The more I delved, the more fascinated I was and the more real Peter became. I didn’t create Peter, he evolved. This is the chapter where it all began. For the first time I realized he had a well developed sense of humor and started to fall in love with him. His personality developed incredibly fast and I’m not even really sure how it happened since there was no one to model him after. As the story progresses you will see him develop bit more each time he appears.

If you read the blogs for my other two books for the CHEYENNE TRIOLGY you already know who Levi is. About halfway through I realized his eyes twinkle like my first college crush and he’s built like the first man I ever loved. Most importantly , though he’s like my husband. So much so, in fact, that the book dedication reads: “To my very own Levi. This one is for you, Bru”.

I didn’t figure Nicki out until the book actually came out. When I saw the cover I said, “I don’t know who that guy is but the woman is exactly how I pictured Nicki!”(And yes she does wear the dress later in the book- for one scene) Even then I didn’t know who she was until my nephew looked at the cover and said, “That looks just like my mom!” And that’s exactly who Nicki is. My sister-in-law who is five foot tall and maybe weighs 90 pounds. As for attitude, well let’s just say she’s not one you’d want to mess with. I wouldn’t call her unfriendly exactly but she isn’t what you’d call outgoing either. The most telling of all? She is the most incredible horsewoman I have ever seen. She makes her living training horses for other people and judging horse shows around the world. In fact, she’d much rather be around horses than people. I don’t mean to be unflattering, I admire my sister-in-law greatly. Still, it is perhaps a good thing that she will never read this, which my nephew assures me she won’t.

Issue #6
Nicki was puzzled by the scowl on Levi’s face. It was the first time in the two weeks he’d been working for Chandlers that his good humor had slipped even slightly. He’d been in a fine mood when they’d stopped at the store. Now, he looked as if he’d eaten something extremely nasty. “Is something wrong?” she asked him.

“No,” he growled. “Everything is just fine!” The muscle in his jaw clenching, Levi didn’t take his eyes from the road as he guided the team and wagon around a particularly large
pot hole.

Nicki raised her eyebrows at the unfriendly tone in his voice and cast sidelong glance at him. He had no reason to be mad at her. She’d finally given up fighting him and even let some of her responsibilities rest on his broad shoulders for awhile. Besides, in the two weeks since they cleaned the spring she had given him many reasons to be angry, and he’d smiled through it all.

Perhaps Peter had done something. He’d been surly and unfriendly since the very beginning. Of course, Levi didn’t seem to care, not even when Peter viewed his first attempt at signing with sardonic amusement. Lately even Peter’s animosity had begun to fade.

The wagon wheels jolting over a rough spot in the road and Nicki grabbed the side of the wagon to steady herself.

“Good,” Levi mumbled under his breath, “maybe the damn wire will fall out and we’ll lose it!”

Nicki glanced back at the rolls of barbed wire they’d picked up in town in surprise. Was that what this was all about? “You’re mad because Papa sent us right out to string up this fence?”

Levi didn’t even bother to look at her as he turned off the road and headed toward the area behind the spring.

Holding on for dear life as the wagon bounced over rocks and sagebrush, Nicki glanced at her companion nervously. “Look, even if you wreck the wagon we’ll still have to put the fence up. You might as well slow down so we get there in one piece.”

“I was driving wagons over worse than this before you were born. Don’t try to tell me how to do it.”

“If this is how you’ve always driven I’m surprised you’re still alive to tell the story,” she said acidly.

“I’m sure you could do better.”

Nicki felt her temper start to rise. “Yes, as a matter of fact I could! What’s the matter with you anyway? You’ve been like a bear in a trap ever since we left town.” Only Nicki’s firm grip on the side of the wagon seat kept her from tumbling to the ground as they reached their destination and Levi brought the horses to a sudden stop.

He jumped to the ground and strode to the back of the wagon where he began unloading the wire. Nicki scrambled off the seat and followed him, though she might as well have been invisible for all the notice he gave her. Levi dumped a heavy roll of wire on the ground, and reached for the next.

“I asked what’s the matter with you; aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business, that’s why.”

Nicki couldn’t believe her ears. “Anything that has to do with this homestead is my business,” she said as her temper finally snapped. “You’re being paid by my father to do a job, and it’s my responsibility to see that you do. I told him it was a mistake to hire a two-bit drifter, but he
wouldn’t listen. The first time some work comes along that you don’t cotton to, you act like a spoiled brat.”

“Look who’s talking about spoiled brats.” Levi dumped the third roll of wire on the ground and leaned on the side of the wagon looking at her with narrowed eyes. “Ever since I started working for your father, you’ve made sure everyone was aware of your feelings on the matter. Your father, and I, even Peter, have tiptoed around you like we were walking on eggs, afraid of making things worse. I didn’t say a word. Figured if you wanted to be in a perpetually bad mood it wasn’t any of my business. But now I see no one else is to be granted the same privilege.”

Nicki bristled. “How dare you take that attitude with me?”

“For your information, your father pays me for the job I do, not for my attitude.” He lifted one of the heavy rolls from the ground with a grunt. “I promised to do what was asked of me, so I’ll build the fence, but I don’t have to like it.”

Angry and curiously a little hurt by his attack, Nicki watched him lug the wire to the corner post of the fence and drop it. When he returned to get the next one she was ready for him.

“You sound pretty convincing, Cantrell, but the way I see it, you don’t like the idea of working that hard.”

“You never give up do you?” Levi picked up another roll and headed for the corner post again. He seemed completely unaware of her following behind him, until he dropped the wire. Then he turned to her, his mouth set in a thin line of disgust, his eyes like a stormy gray ocean. For several seconds they exchanged glares, each waiting for the other to speak. Suddenly Levi’s face relaxed, and he leaned his arms on the fence post.

“Damn, you’re as bad as my little brother. Once he gets hold of something he just keeps yammering at you until you can’t take it anymore. I’m not going to fight with you, Nicki, so if that’s what you’re after, forget it.”

“You don’t want to put out the effort it takes to build a fence.”

Levi laughed outright at that. “Hell’s bells, you and Peter have already done the hard work.” He nodded toward the long line of posts stretching out from the corner post in two directions. “Digging the holes and setting the posts is far more strenuous than stringing wire.”

“I don’t understand then. What’s bothering you?”

“There are many things you don’t understand,” said Levi, purposely ignoring the rest of her question. “You aren’t very good at figuring people out, but you’re young yet. You may learn.”

“And I suppose you, with your advanced years, are so observant you never miss anything,” Nicki retorted.

Levi’s only answer was a shrug.

To Nicki the gesture was one of condescension, and she saw red. “All right, so I can’t figure out what your problem is when you suddenly decide to be grouchy, but you’ve been here almost two weeks and you still don’t know...”—Nicki’s heart jumped into her throat as she realized what she’d been about to say—, “as much as you think you do,” she finished lamely.

Levi took off his hat and wiped his brow with one sleeve. “I imagine there are many things that I don’t know, but that wasn’t what I meant. The reason for a person’s bad temper often isn’t what it seems. At times, it’s better to just let it run its course and ignore it. With a little more experience you’ll learn how to tell the difference.”

He glanced down at her with a suddenly innocent expression. “Besides, it seems to me that I’m the only one who’s done any work on the fence so far today. Could it be that you’re the one who’s dragging his feet and trying to put the blame on me?”

Not surprisingly, Nicki took bristled at the suggestion of such an underhanded tactic. “A little hard work doesn’t bother me in the least!”

Levi grinned, the ever-present twinkle was back in his eye as he put his hat back on and headed toward the wagon again. “Well, then you can fetch the nails and hammers while I carry over the last roll of wire. Let’s get this job started.

It wasn’t until they had stretched the first strand of wire and were attaching it to the second post with the u-shaped fencing nails that Nicki remembered he’d neatly avoided explaining what had put him in such a bad mood.

“Well are you going to tell me or not?”

Levi looked at her in surprise. “Tell you what?”

“What there is about building this fence that makes you so mad.”

His hammer stopped in mid swing as he stared at her in exasperation. “I was wrong about you. You’re worse than my little brother. At least it’s possible to distract him. You never quit!”

Nicki had a momentary vision of Levi bribing a small boy with a peppermint stick and holding his finger to his lips. She swallowed a smile as she reminded herself this was a serious matter. “Well?”

Still holding the hammer he crossed his arms on top of the post and regarded her cynically. “You aren’t going to like it.”

“So?”

He sighed and gazed out over the prairie. “When I was a kid, this whole territory was wide open range. People, animals, anything, could go wherever they wanted. There was plenty of room for everybody. But when I came home after four years at sea I hardly recognized the land I grew up in.” He drove the claws of the hammer into the top of the post and picked up the wire stretchers. “It started with a few people fencing off their land. Suddenly it wasn’t wide open any more and everyone began getting nervous. The last few years there’s been a mad scramble to put fences around everything a man owns.”

“But don’t you see? We have to fence it off. Last year Herman Lowell’s cows ate almost our entire crop, and what they didn’t eat they trampled into the ground. If we don’t put up wire we won’t have anything.”

“Herman Lowell has been grazing his cows on this range for over twenty years.” Levi pointed out. “By his standards you’re the trespassers.”

Nicki gave him a sharp look. “You sound just like him.”

“Can’t you see that Herman Lowell might have reason to think this is his land even though you have legal claim to it?”

“Oh, I can understand why he thinks it’s his, but it isn’t. We filed a claim on 160 acres, and made improvements during the first five years we lived here. According to the law, that makes it ours. We even took out the water right on the spring .”

She pointed an accusing finger at Levi. “Herman Lowell could have easily done the same thing, but he didn’t. Seems to me he gave up any claim he might have had by doing nothing. Besides,” she added defensively, “Papa says the cattlemen have nearly ruined the prairie by over-grazing. Whose side are you on.”
Levi knew it was true. All he had to do was look around to see the evidence. Thirty years ago the prairie had been grass as far as the eye could see. Now sagebrush encroached on the grasslands more and more each year. Levi sighed. “I’m not on anyone’s side. Both have their points and I don’t know who’s right. But between the ranchers and the farmers the land is changing, and I’m not so sure I like it.”

“Building one more fence isn’t going to make that much difference.” Nicki said. “I think there’s more to your anger than that.”

Levi sighed. “I dislike the barbed wire even more than the fences.”

“Wire?” She looked at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”

“Not just wire, barbed wire.”

“What’s wrong with barbed wire?”

“You really don’t know do you?”

Nicki was momentarily taken aback by the hostile expression in the eyes that met her own. “N...no.”

“Have you ever seen what it does to an animal unwise enough to run into it?” Levi didn’t wait for an answer. “No, if you had you wouldn’t ask. The barbs works like a dozen little knives, cutting and slicing into the flesh. It’s especially bad for a horse, I’ve seen them cut clear to the bone. Even if you get to them in time and can sew up the wound, they usually get an infection and die. I can’t tell you how many good horses I’ve had to shoot because they were wire cut. Cattle have tougher hides, but barbed wire doesn’t do them much good either.”

Nicki swallowed convulsively, shocked and dismayed by his words.

Levi gave the wire stretchers a vicious tug, his voice bitter. “It’s even worse for the wild animals. When a deer runs into a fence they’ll jump it, usually with no problem. But occasionally one gets it’s back legs tangled between the top two wires. The lucky ones become prey for coyotes. The only other alternative is a slow death by starvation. Either way, not a very pleasant end.”

Since theirs was the first fence to go up in the area, Nicki had never been around barbed wire before. The image Levi described flashed vividly into her mind. “I—I had no idea!”

The stricken sound of her voice brought Levi out of his self-absorbed state immediately. Belatedly he remembered her youth, and the tender-heartedness of her sex. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

Nicki kicked the roll of wire with her booted foot. “I don’t blame you for hating the stuff, it’s terrible.”
Levi felt a surge of guilt. After all, the situation wasn’t her fault. “Look, I’m in a foul mood, and I shouldn’t have been so blunt. As you already pointed out this fence is necessary, so can’t we just forget what I said and build the thing?”

“But there must be something we can to do make it safe for all those animals!”

Levi grinned in spite of himself. “The whole point is to keep the animals out, or in, whichever the case may be. If the wire is safe you’ve defeated your purpose.”

“Maybe so, but the poor deer...”

“Eat your crops just like Lowell’s cattle,” he interrupted. “Besides,” Levi said pointing to the small barbs twisted into the double strands of wire, “this isn’t one of the really bad ones. I’ve seen far worse.”

Nicki was still troubled. “I still think we ought to do something.”

“I suppose we can ride the fence every day checking for...” Suddenly he broke off, staring out over the prairie.

“Well, well,” he said softly. “Nicki, why don’t you go get my rifle from the wagon. Looks like we’ve got company.”

BLOG # 6 Barbed Wire.

I read somewhere that the Wild West was tamed with barbed wire and the Colt .44. I don’t know if that’s totally true but I do know that the barbed wire changed the look of the West. It was invented to keep cattle contained and wound up cutting the open range into a patchwork of homesteads and small ranches. The cattle barons, who’d had free rein for a generation, suddenly found themselves cut off from waterholes, prime grazing and cattle trails they had been using for twenty-five years. Needless to say, tensions, which were already high, escalated at an alarming rate.

Herman Lowell was one of those powerful cattle barons. His range was as vast as his herds and he was used to having full control. Right in the middle of it all was the Chandler homestead and the Willow Creek spring. Willow Creek was the only source of water for miles around. Up until this point in time Chandlers had used the water to raise their crops, but Lowell’s cattle had been able to drink from the creek as well. In this chapter all that is about to change. Once the fence is completed, Herman Lowell will no longer have access to Willow Creek or the spring that feeds it. If the drought worsens the situation is almost certain to become explosive and Cyrus Chandler knows it. In fact, that’s one of the reasons he hired Levi Cantrell. Nicki, however, hasn’t got a clue. She can only see the problem from her side.

This is also the first place Levi really shows his rancher roots. Chandlers see the wire as the only way to protect their land, but Levi sees it as the end of everything he has known. Then there is the wire itself. His description of the wire and the damage it does is from my own experience. It seems especially bad for horses and I truly have see one cut so badly across the chest and front legs that the vet was unable to save her.

The worst thing, though, truly are the deer that get caught. It is just as I describe it. Most deer jump a fence without a whole lot of effort but sometimes they catch their back feet between the top and second wire somehow. The wires twist together, trapping them there hanging by their back feet. Their front feet are on the ground but there is no way to free themselves. To be honest, I don’t think it happened all that often. Deer are extremely good jumpers and I only recall seeing a few. Still, it has stuck with me all these years, and I was always afraid I would find one still alive while I was out riding.

It never happened to me though my father found a few. There was usually no way to save them because the wire caused too much damaged to their legs. If he had a gun along he’d shoot them but usually he had to slit their throats to put them out of their misery. One day he was out fixing fence when he came upon a trapped doe. Her twin fawns were nearby and probably not old enough to make it on their own. My dad said it made him sick to think of what he was going to have to do. When he got to the fence, though, he realized she was only caught by one leg and by some miracle all of the barbs had missed her. Every time he approached she’d jerk on the fence trying to get away, and every time she jerked the fence would tighten even more cruelly on the leg. My father was afraid she was going to wind up breaking her leg and he’d have to put her down anyway. I’m not quite sure how he managed to release her, but I know it took the better part of an hour and the destruction of a fairly good sized section of fence. He said he didn’t even mind going home to get more wire so he could restring the fence. I guess that‘s when I began to realize that ranchers considered themselves stewards of the land and the protectors of everything that lives there. It's also one reason why Levi, with his rancher mentality, disliked the wire so much.

Issue #7
By the time Nicki returned with the rifle Levi was once again calmly fixing the wire to the post. Nicki squinted at the two riders approaching from the west. “You think it’s trouble?”

“Probably not but it doesn’t hurt to be ready.” Levi glanced at the riders as he picked up the wire stretchers. “I’m pretty sure the one on the left is a woman.”

“A woman! That’s strange. I can’t imagine who...”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Levi grunted as he pulled the wire taut across the post. “Are you going to stand there gawking all day or are you going to help me build this fence?”

When the pretty brunette and her escort arrived some five minutes later, Levi and Nicki had progressed to the next post and were just finishing with the first strand of wire.

“Howdy!” Levi said pleasantly, driving the claws of his hammer into the top of post and taking his hat off to wipe his brow.

“Just what do you men think you’re doing?” the woman demanded.

“Well, now, I’d have thought that was fairly obvious,” Levi said. “We’re building a fence.”

“I can see that, you dolt! But why are you building it on my father’s land?”

“Look around, Amanda Lowell,” Nicki broke in. “This is my father’s land, not yours.”

Startled, Amanda shifted her gaze to the person she had dismissed as just another cowboy. Her eyes widened in surprised recognition. “Good heavens, Nicole, is that you?”

“Why yes, Mandy, as a matter of fact it is!” Nicki’s tone was barely polite as she glared at the other woman.

“I prefer Amanda,” the brunette said stiffly. “Mandy sounds so lowbred.”

“Well, I prefer Nicki!” She studied the other girl appraisingly. The three years since they’d last seen each other had wrought changes in her childhood companion. Gone was the slightly gangly adolescent, leaving in her place a sophisticated young beauty. She appeared to have grown several inches, though it was difficult to tell with Amanda seated on the pretty little black mare, but the change was far more than that. A very stylish hat perched atop shiny ringlets matched her blue velvet riding habit perfectly. Nicki felt an unfamiliar flicker of envy at the way the latter clung to Amanda’s graceful curves. Even her voice was different; it was a soft Southern drawl instead of the Western twang she’d grown up with. Only Amanda’s cerulean blue eyes that had always reminded Nicki of the summer sky, remained unchanged, and even they seemed to be fringed with longer darker lashes.

Those same eyes now regarded her with frank curiosity. “I didn’t expect to find you here,” Amanda said.
“Why not? I live here.”

“I thought you and your father would leave after your mother...” Amanda shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “Well you know what I mean.”

Nicki’s eyes darkened. “This is our home and nothing is going to change that. It takes more than a little public humiliation to make the Chandlers run. Which reminds me, I thought you went to live with your Aunt in Alabama.”

“Georgia. Aunt Charlotte passed away two months ago and I came home. We just arrived yesterday.” A dark flush stained Amanda’s face as she tossed her head. “You’ll find I’ve out grown the indiscretions of my youth, Nicki. The past is over and I for one fully intend to forget it.”

Nicki shrugged. “I expect we’ve both done some growing up. I’ve never been one to dwell on the past anyway.”

The subtle creak of saddle leather reminded Amanda of her companion. “Oh, Charles,” she said turning to the young man with a brilliant smile. “Allow me to introduce you. This is Nicole...er...Nicki Chandler. We used to play together as children you know.” She made it sound as though it had been lifetime ago and not particularly pleasant. “And this,” she said proudly as she turned back to Nicki, “is Charles Laughton, Lord Avery’s nephew. When Lord Avery discovered I was stranded in Atlanta, he sent a wire to Charles asking him to escort me home since he was coming for a visit anyway.”

Though Nicki had occasionally seen Lord Avery, a neighboring cattle baron, she was not overly impressed with the Englishman nor his nephew. It was quite obvious she was alone in her view as Amanda gave the handsome blond a look of pure adoration.

“How do you do,” he said in the bored accents of the British upper class. His perfect eyebrows arched questioningly as he looked at Levi. “I’m sorry I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Levi Cantrell,” Levi said with a friendly smile.

“Cantrell?” Charles looked thoughtful. “My uncle bought a horse from some Cantrells over by Horse Creek. Relatives of yours by chance?”

Levi shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“Levi just got back from several years abroad,” Nicki said quickly. “He hasn’t had time to look up all of his family yet.”

“Oh?” Charles allowed only a faint tinge of disbelief to enter his very polite voice. “Europe perhaps?”

Nicki bristled at the man’s supercilious tone. How dare he, a foreigner, come in and look down his polished nose at them! Before she could open her mouth to blister him with a scathing retort, Levi’s good-natured voice interrupted her.

“Nothing so civilized I’m afraid. I was in the orient, China mostly”

“Good heavens. Practically the ends of the earth. Tell me, is it as interesting as they say?”

“It’s worth the trip I think.” Levi grinned. “Though I can’t say I ever particularly wanted to go myself.”

“What brings you over this way, Amanda?” Nicki asked suddenly. “I don’t seem to remember you were particularly fond of riding.”

“That’s not true. It was only that I didn’t care to ride the rough-and-tumble way you always did. Since then I’ve discovered it can be a rather enjoyable past time when one has a more gentle mount.” She patted the little mare’s neck. “I was just showing Charles some of my father’s ranch.” A small wrinkle of concern momentarily marred the perfection of her brow. “Does Daddy know you’re building this fence?”

Nicki shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. The posts were set last fall so I imagine his men have reported it to him.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be very happy about it”

Nicki’s eyes narrowed. “So?”

Amanda tossed her head. “My father has allowed you to stay here out of consideration for your, er...,” she paused and blushed slightly, “...parents but don’t think he’ll allow you to take anything you want.”

“We aren’t taking a thing that doesn’t already belong to us.” Nicki said. “And we stayed because it’s our land, not because your father let us!”

There were several tense moments of silence as the two women glared at each other. The men watched uneasily, not quite sure how to handle the situation.

Finally Amanda sighed. “Oh, Nicki, things really haven’t changed at all have they?”

Nicki gave her a rueful grin. “No, I guess they haven’t. We’re still fighting the same old fights.”

Amanda smiled for the first time. “You know it really is good to see you!”

“I didn’t think I’d ever say it, but I’m glad to see you too, Amanda. You’re different though. You look so much older, so...” as Nicki paused searching for the right word, Amanda’s smile began to fade a little. “...so beautiful!” she admitted finally .

Amanda’s smile returned full force and she preened a little. “Why thank you, Nicki. Coming from you, I consider that a great compliment since I know how little you care about such womanly things yourself.”

Though the words were pleasant, Nicki suddenly felt very awkward in her boy’s clothes, and short hair. She lifted her shoulders with feigned indifference. “I’ve never had time for such foolishness.”

Amanda glanced down at the elegant watch pinned to her riding habit. “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was so late. Come, Charles, we must be going if we’re going to be home in time for tea. It was good to see you again, Nicki, and nice meeting you, Mr. Cantrell.” She waved over her shoulder as they rode away.

“We mustn’t be late for tea,” Nicki mimicked sarcastically. “I’ll bet Herman Lowell just loves that.”

“A close friend of yours?”

“I don’t know as you’d call us friends really. We spent a lot of time together when we were kids. My mother used to take me over there all the time; said I needed to be around someone my own age but we’ve never had much in common.”

All at once her voice faltered and she turned to stare open-mouthed at Levi. It had suddenly occurred to her that her secret had been blatantly revealed, but her companion seemed totally unsurprised. “You knew!” she whispered, her tone accusing for all it’s softness.

He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand her. “I knew almost from the beginning. In spite of what you think, you really don’t look much like a boy. Besides, some of your gestures would look pretty strange coming from a man.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What for?” Glancing at the sun, Levi lifted his hat and scratched his head. “It doesn’t make any difference anyway.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t make any difference?”

“It doesn’t. Boy or girl you’re still the same person.”

Nicki thrust her jaw out. “I can out work most men.”

“True.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I carry my own weight, and never ask for special privileges.”
“I’ve noticed that.” His lips quirked. “Of course you’ve been trying so hard to avoid working on this fence that I’ve kind of been wondering...”

“I have not!” Angrily she picked up her hammer and drove a fencing nail home with a few vicious swings. “How can you accuse me of trying to get out of work? You’re the one who...” Levi’s deep chuckle stopped her tirade before it began. She glared at him a few seconds then, unexpectedly, the corners of her mouth twitched. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from returning his grin she turned back to her work and pretended to ignore him for the next half hour.

Levi merely smiled to himself as he turned his attention back to building fence.

Blog #7 The Cattle Barons
When I first wrote this Charles Laughton had no importance to the plot. He had two purposes and two purposes only. First of all he was the reason Amanda Lowell was out on the prairie. Since she considered herself a sophisticated young woman, it would have taken some pretty strong motivation to get her out of the ranch house and into the strong Wyoming sunshine. Getting a tan was probably right at the top of her list of “Evils to Avoid”. Trying to impress a handsome young man with aristocratic connections was one of the few things that she would find worth risking her lily-white complexion.

As you may have guessed, Nicki Chandler and Levi Cantrell’s story is irrevocably intertwined with history and the second reason for plunking Charles Laughton into the story is historical in nature. Charles, or rather his uncle, the fictional Lord Avery, had an important part to play in history. Lord Avery was almost certainly not an English Lord but he had a close relative who was. For centuries the law of primogeniture had been in effect in England. When a titled man died, everything connected with his title went to the oldest son, brother, nephew or cousin depending on who was next in line. The practice kept large holdings intact and a family’s power from being diluted. It also left many a rich man’s younger sons with no money.

There were very few options open to these young aristocrats. For one thing, whoever inherited the title was supposed to take care of the rest of his family, though there was no law that said he had to. Actual work or going into trade was frowned upon and could easily lose a man his social standing. About the only career opportunities in England for these younger sons were joining the army (as an officer of course- his titled relative would have to purchase his rank), becoming a clergyman, working as a rich man’s secretary or if he was very lucky, marrying a woman with a large dowry.

Many young men found these choices too limited and set off to make their fortune elsewhere. At various times in history they went to India, Africa, the West Indies, and during the mid 1800’s to the American West. They were attracted by the fortunes to be made in the cattle industry and they brought their culture with them. These displaced English aristocrats became known as the “cattle barons”, a term that eventually encompassed all the large ranchers.

Lord Avery and his ilk were quite different from Herman Lowell who probably had more in common with Cyrus Chandler. Most of them considered the West barbaric and did all within their power to make it more like home. Many an English-style mansion was built in the middle of the Wyoming prairie, some still exist today. In the winter, most of them packed up and went back to England or east to the population centers of the United States leaving their cattle and their cowboys to fend for themselves.

These Englishmen had no ties to the land and only cared about how much money they could make. To that end, they kept putting more and more cattle on the range, oblivious to the warning signs of over grazing. The market became glutted with beef and prices fell. The cattle barons, both American and English, responded by adding even more cattle to the already stressed ecosystem which drove beef prices even lower. It was a vicious circle that continued for nearly a decade. Even before the summer of 1886, verything was ripe for disaster.

Issue # 8

Spring. The air fairly vibrated with the sounds and smells of it. Nicki inhaled appreciatively, rejoicing in the vitality that thrummed through her veins. Though the spring round up was not her favorite activity, she was pleased to be outside on such a glorious day.

Even the tedious job of searching out cows with unbranded calves seemed less annoying than usual. The fence was part of Cyrus’s plan to keep their herd closer to home, but for now, Chandler ‘s fifty head of cattle spent the spring and summer sharing the open range with deer, antelope and the cattle from the Bar X.

Scanning the hills and valleys for the widely separated animals took a great deal of time, but it kept her away from the disturbing presence of Levi Cantrell. When Nicki was around him, she was in a constant state of confusion. She should be pleased that he didn’t care whether she was male or female, but for some reason his nonchalant attitude bothered her.

Today they were scouring the thick stands of skunk brush, chokecherry and willow that lined the creeks. It was not uncommon for cows to seek the cool confines in an effort to escape the heel flies that plagued them incessantly this time of year. Peter and Levi were working the other, denser side of the small tributary. Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of one of them through an opening in the brush, but for the most part she was alone.

The sound of breaking branches split the air as a small heifer suddenly burst from the brush almost directly in front of her. Glancing at the familiar eleven bar one brand, Nicki smiled in satisfaction. It was one of theirs for a change.

With a closer look, Nicki realized the young cow had a calf of her own. She peered into the thicket. The calf was probably hidden there, safe and secure. With a sigh, she dismounted, and tied Lollipop to a bush. There was no way she’d find it on horseback.

After nearly five minutes of searching she caught sight of the calf, a darker shadow in the dappled light. A quick examination to make sure it was healthy, then Nicki nudged the baby to its feet. With a firm grip on the calf’s neck and the top of its tail, she guided it out of the brush to where Lollipop stood patiently waiting.

Suddenly a bellow of pure rage echoed around thicket as the mother cow spied her baby and came charging to its rescue. “Ho now, Mama, it’s all right.” Nicki said as she quickly backed away from the calf. “I won’t hurt your little one.”

Within seconds the calf was with its mother who stood glaring at Nicki. Nicki bit her lip in vexation. The calf wasn’t more than a few hours old, far too small to travel clear back to the homestead. The only way to get the youngster home was to carry it across her saddle, but an angry mother cow was nothing to mess with. The normally docile creatures could inflict serious injury, and Nicki wasn’t about to challenge this one, even if she had been able to lift the fifty-pound baby by herself.

She was still what to do when a voice unexpectedly sounded behind her.

“Look what we got here, Shorty.”

“I’ll be danged.” Shorty’s chuckle sounded distinctly menacing. “If it ain’t the kid from town. It appears your ‘little brother’s’ rustling Bar X cattle.”

Nicki looked over her shoulder, eyes widening in dismay as she recognized two of the three men she’d tangled with in town. It was obvious from their expressions they still remembered the last encounter and weren’t about to let by-gones be by-gones. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned to face them, her features betraying none of her trepidation. “These two don’t belong to the Bar X. The cow wears an Eleven Bar One brand.”

Shorty swung his short, squat body down from his horse, and untied the rope from the saddle. “Ain’t that strange? All I see is Bar X cattle. What about you, Buck?”

“Yup, a whole dang herd of ‘em.” Buck glanced toward a group of about ten cows the two cowhands had obviously gathered. “Reckon this calf belongs to one of them.”

“That’s the way I figure it,” Shorty said, making a loop in his lariat as he prepared to rope the calf.

Nicki’s eyes narrowed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just taking what rightly belongs to Mr. Lowell.”

“I told you, this calf doesn’t belong to him.”

“And I say it does,” Shorty growled. “Did you see anything with a different brand, Buck?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’re both blind.” Nicki was too angry to consider that she was at a distinct disadvantage.

“Its mother is right there, and she belongs to the Eleven Bar One.”

“You better watch your mouth boy,” Shorty said ominously.

“Seems to me this boy needs a lesson in manners,” put in Buck, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “This time there ain’t no drifter gonna come along and interfere.”

“Reckon you’re right,” Shorty said. With the speed of a pouncing cougar, he’d coiled his rope around the middle of Nicki’s body, effectively pinning her hands and arms at her sides. “What do you reckon we ought to do with him, Buck?”

“Get this rope off me right now!” Nicki said indignantly.

Buck nonchalantly dismounted and sauntered over to Shorty and Nicki. “We can do just about anything we like.” His mouth twisted in a bone-chilling smile. “We’ve got ourselves a real live cattle rustler. Shorty, tell the boy what they do to rustlers.”

“Hang ‘em!”

“I’m not a rustler!”

“Don’t know what else you’d call it.” Buck spit a thick stream of tobacco, missing Nicki’s boot by less than inch. “Caught you red-handed with a Bar X calf.”

Shorty rubbed his hand. “Besides we have a score to settle with you. Almost lost my hand to blood poisoning after you bit me and Buck, here, was crippled up for a week.”

“Serves you right.” The retort rose to Nicki’s lips before she stopped to consider the consequences.

Buck raised an eyebrow. “Talks pretty tough, don’t he, Shorty?”

Shorty nodded. “‘Specially for someone who’s about to get himself hung.”

Buck pursed his lips. “Eleven Bar One... ain’t that the brand of that squatter lives over by the spring?”

“You mean Chandler?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I saw that dummy of his over by the crossing a while ago. You reckon this tadpole’s Chandler’s kid?”

“Nah.” Shorty shook his head. “If I remember rightly, the only other youngun’ he’s got is a girl about Miss Amanda’s age.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “Come to think of it, our friend here is a mite pretty for a boy.” He plucked the hat from Nicki’s head so he could see her face. His eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Damn it to hell, Buck. He’s a woman!”

“You sure?” Buck peered Nicki’s face. “Well I’ll be damned. This is our lucky day, Shorty.”

Nicki felt sick inside as the tall, lean cowboy ran a grimy finger down the side of her face. She attempted to kick him but Buck was ready for her.

“Uh-uh, not this time, sister.” He deftly dodged her foot and wound more of the rope down around her legs.

With the rope wrapped tightly around her from the bottom of her ribs to her knees, Nicki was at their mercy, completely unable to move. She closed her eyes willing the tears prickling behind her eyelids not to fall and add to her humiliation.

“I don’t know.” Shorty said uneasily. “People tend to get riled up over a thing like this. Most folks don’t take to kindly to roughin’ up their women.”

“Oh come on. We’re talking about a cattle rustler,” Buck pointed out. “Besides she ain’t got nobody to come after us but a sick old man and a dummy. “

“Maybe so, but I’m not sure Mr. Lowell would see it that way. He was mighty partial to her Ma at one time.”

Buck dismissed Shorty’s comment with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Besides, he won’t care who her ma was when he realizes she’s the one whose been stealing his cattle.”

“But, Buck, she ain’t been...”

“The squatters are getting plumb out of hand,” Buck interrupted with a warning glance at his companion. “I say we make an example of her, and maybe have a little fun in the meantime. You know what they say, like mother like daughter.”

Nicki’s eyes flew open and blazed with such fury that Shorty took a involuntary step back. Buck was not so fast. He didn’t even have time to duck before Nicki spit in his face.

“You’ll have to fight me every step of the way,” she snarled, her anger at being compared to her mother overcoming prudence. “And I promise you, it won’t be easy!”

“Why you little bitch!” Buck’s backhanded slap knocked Nicki to the ground. With a low growl he delivered a vicious kick to her ribs before she could roll out of the way. She tried to curl into a ball and gritted her teeth, waiting for the next blow.

Buck and Shorty had made a fatal mistake. With their attention focused on Nicki, they didn’t realize they were no longer alone until it was too late.

In the grip of anger such as he’d never known before, Peter launched himself from his running horse and hit Buck like a runaway locomotive. He repeatedly smash his fist into one who’d dared brutalize Nicki, and he smiled in satisfaction as he felt the man’s nose give.

Shock held Shorty immobilized. The sound of Buck’s nose breaking finally galvanized him into action. He circled around and was nearly in position to jump Peter from behind when a large hand closed around his throat. He didn’t even have time to blink before a fist connected with his jaw and everything exploded in a white, hot flash of pain.

Levi paid little attention as the man fell unconscious at his feet. With a cursory glance at Peter and Buck he made his way to Nicki. “Are you all right?” he asked helping her to sit up.

“Y...yes, I think so.” Nicki’s voice was shaky but controlled. “Suddenly her eyes focused on the scene behind Levi’s head. “Oh, no, Levi, go help Peter!”

Levi slipped a knife from its sheath on his belt and began cutting the ropes that bound her. “Peter doesn’t need my help.”

“But...”

“Nicki, Peter is a man and a man does what he has to. He wouldn’t thank me for interfering.”

Soon Levi’s words proved to be true as Peter began to gain an advantage over the larger, older cowboy. It wasn’t long before Peter stood victorious over his beaten adversary. He reached down and jerked the other man roughly to his feet. Buck wobbled back and forth for several seconds while Peter steadied him. At last, when it looked as though Buck could stand on his own, Peter crashed his fist into the other man’s jaw. Buck crumpled to the ground like a pole-axed steer. Peter stood for a few seconds, breathing hard, with a satisfied look on his face. Then he turned his attention to Nicki.

Levi was pulling off the last of the rope, as Peter knelt next to her.

The dark brown eyes scanned her face with concern. “Did they hurt you?” he signed rapidly

“Not much.” She shook her head, but a grimace of pain crossed her face as she shifted positions.

We’d better check that side of yours,” Levi said. “You may have some broken ribs.” He reached under her jacket and gently probed her side, uncomfortably aware of Nicki clenching her teeth against the pain as he did so. “Well,” he said, pulling her jacket closed, “I don’t think they’re
broken but I can’t tell if they’re cracked or not. You’re bruised pretty badly.”

Peter untied the knot in his bandana and pulled it from his neck as he gestured toward Levi’s and Nicki’s. “We can bind her ribs if we use these.” For the first time Peter moved his fingers slowly enough so Levi could read the individual signs. “I will get some cold water for her face.”

Levi nodded then reached out and tenderly ran his fingers along Nicki’s cheek. It was already turning an ugly purple and Levi clenched his jaw in frustrated anger. He suddenly felt an flash of intense disappointment that Shorty had gone down so easily. Some of his anger could have been pounded out against the other man’s face.

Nicki was trying very hard not to cry, but the combination of her harrowing experience and the pain of her injuries was more than she could handle. Swallowing sobs and fighting back tears, she found Levi stroking her uninjured cheek with his thumb strangely comforting.

Suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing her heart out against the solid chest. She wasn’t sure if he’d pulled her into the shelter of his embrace or if she’d gone there on her own. It didn’t matter. She felt safe, protected. The tight rein she kept on her emotions broke, releasing a torrent of tears.

Levi had meant to comfort her, the way an uncle or an older brother might, but as he held her next to him his feelings were anything but avuncular. The fear that had almost strangled him when he’d first seen Nicki tied and at the mercy of the two cowhands, came back in full force. It was all he could do not to crush her to his chest and rain kisses of relief all over her face.

Though his rage was so intense it threatened to choke him, Levi kept his arms around the small form, patting her back and murmuring comforting words to the top of her head. Thank God Peter had reached the scene first. Levi was afraid he’d have killed both men before he was through.

At last, the sobs quieted. Her emotions spent, but feeling oddly light headed, and a bit giddy, Nicki was perfectly content to stay within the safety of his arms. “Does it look bad?”

“You’ve already got a black eye.” Trying to ignore the soft violet eyes staring up at him so trustingly, Levi surveyed the bruise critically. “He really smacked you a good one.”

Nicki sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t have spit in his face.”

“You spit in his face?” Levi was aghast. “The man had you tied up!

Nicki shrugged. “I didn’t like what he said. Besides, he was so mad he forgot all about...well what he was planning to do.” Her eyes darkened angrily. “I’ll never allow a man to touch me that way! I rather take a beating any day.”

By the time Peter returned with a canteen of cold water, Nicki insisted on washing her own injuries. She had recovered enough to be embarrassed about her tears, not to mention her reaction to Levi. She’d acted just like one of those silly women she despised. It was disgusting. No man would have thrown himself into a pair of strong arms and dissolved into tears. That she hadn’t even thought of throwing herself into Peter’s arms never occurred to her.

Determined to wipe her weakness from everyone’s mind, including her own, she looked pointedly at the two cowboys who still lay where Peter and Levi had left them.

“What do we do with them?”

Levi stopped in the process of binding her ribs to glance over his shoulder at the ungainly heap of arms and legs.

“What do you want to do with them?”

“Feed ‘em to the coyotes.”

“Don’t blame you.” Levi narrowed his eyes. “Maybe a walk home in their underwear would work just as well. Not much a cowpoke hates more than being without his horse.” He grinned. “Or his pants.”

Ten minutes later Nicki used the end of her lariat to smack both horses on the rump and send them thundering over the prairie. Then, without a backward glance at the two unconscious men, she turned Lollipop for home. The only concession she made to her injuries during the long ride was to let Peter and Levi deal with the cow and calf. When Levi stopped near the barn to help her down from her horse, she raised her chin and rode on by.

With a shrug, Levi signed the word “women” and rolled his eyes. It was lucky for both of them that Nicki didn’t see that or Peter’s answering grin.

BLOG # 8

Gathering cattle from the range has always been a large part of ranching. In Nicki’s time, most of the cattle had spent the winter on the range. All the Mama cows calved out there, which is the reason the cattle needed to be gathered in the spring. Since all the cattle mixed together, the only way to tell which animals a rancher owned was by branding them, and each rancher had his own unique brand. As long as a calf was with its mother, it was an easy matter to figure out who it belonged to. So the herds were gathered and branded in the early spring while the calves were still suckling.

Occasionally a cow and her calf would be missed in a round-up and the calf would not be brought in for branding until after it had left its mother. There were also times when a cow would die before its calf was branded. In such cases, it was impossible to know who actually owned the calf. Such animals were called Mavericks and belonged to whoever slapped a brand on them first.

The bane of the cattle industry back then was rustlers. They worked in a variety of ways but there were two that were most common. The easiest way was to separate the calf from its mother for a week or so until the mother/child bond was broken. The rustlers simply penned up the calves for a few days and then turned them loose. Since the Maverick was no longer with its mother, it was perfectly legal to claim the animal and brand it. The other way was to tamper with the brands. The rustlers usually had a brand that was somewhat similar to the brands of the surrounding ranchers and a set of running irons. A clever cowboy could doctor a brand with the running irons and change it into their own.

Thanks to TV and movies, we tend to think of rustlers as gangs who traveled around the West stealing cattle and causing general havoc. There were, I suppose, some of those around, but most were simply opportunists. Some small ranchers and homesteaders saw it as a good way to increase their own herds. I have no idea how prevalent this practice actually was, but it was probably the biggest beef the cattle baron’s had. (No pun intended) It was the reason cited for the Johnson county Cattle War and for the lynching of Cattle Kate. Actually, it has since been proven that Cattle Kate was innocent. She had increased her herds with cattle from local cattlemen but she had obtained them through prostitution rather than rustling. Never-the-less she and her lover were lynched and hanged in 1889 without a chance to prove the cattle were legally theirs.

This shoot-now-think-later way of thinking is precisely why Buck and Shorty thought they could do anything they wanted with Nicki. Buck figured he could easily persuade Herman Lowell that Chandlers were rustling his cattle, which would justify anything they did with her. I’m not so sure Herman Lowell would have taken such a lenient view, but Buck had every reason to think so.

Personally, I never had any experience with rustling. There are pretty stringent laws and brand inspectors to take care of such things now. There was one incident I remember in the late sixties. A calf showed up at the fall round-up with a messed-up brand. It was impossible to tell whose brand it was so they called in the brand inspector. He studied it a length and said it looked like it had been branded twice, once with our brand and once with that of our nearest neighbor. Both my father and Chot Smith were highly indignant that the other would accuse him of such a heinous act. Tempers rose, with both sides thinking they were the wronged party. Since ownership was uncertain, the calf wasn’t sold with the rest. I don’t remember where it spent the winter but the next spring it went back to the mountains with the rest of the cattle while discord continued to rumble between the two families. Come fall the ownership was still under dispute so they compromised. I don’t know whose idea it was but it sounds a lot like something my father might have come up with. The calf, a full-grown steer by then, went to the local packing plant where he was butchered and packaged. Each family got half of the meat and cordial relations were restored.

To this day I don’t know what happened. I’m pretty sure my father hadn’t done it but I couldn't see Chot Smith doing it either. One thing I don’t think anyone considered was that between the two families there were four teenagers and three hired hands who helped with the branding. I think it’s quite possible one of them accidently goofed up the brand and mistakenly thought it was “good enough”.

Oh, by the way, the Eleven Bar One brand was taken out by my great-grandfather in 1889. I've always felt "connected" to it the same way I feel connected to the ranch. That's why I gave it to the Chandlers.

Issue #10
“Levi,” Cyrus said as Nicki started clearing the table after supper, “I want you and Peter to meet the stage tomorrow morning.”

Levi’s eyebrows elevated in surprise. “Oh? Why is that?”

“My sister-in-law will be on it, and I want you to pick her up.”

“What?” Nicki whirled and stared at her father in amazement.

“I’ve invited your Aunt Emily to come stay for awhile.”

“You never said a word about it to me!”

“That’s because it’s supposed to be a surprise. ”

“I don’t like surprises like that.” Nicki put her hands on her hips and glowered at her father.

“Whatever possessed you to invite her anyway?”

“It will be good for you to have another woman around, and Emily’s always been fond of you.”

The violet eyes blazed. “Well I’m not fond of her! She’s a meddling old busy body.”

“Nicki! She’s your mother’s only sister.”

“And that’s supposed to make me like her?” Nicki gave a short laugh. “Even my mother couldn’t stand Aunt Emily. For once I agree with her!”

“Nicole Chandler I’m ashamed of you. Emily Patterson is a good woman and I won’t have you judging her when you haven’t set eyes on her in seventeen years.”

“Some things don’t change with time.”

You’re not too old to take over my knee you know.” Cyrus pointed a finger at his daughter. “As long as this is my house I’ll invite who I want, when I want without interference from you.

Nicki stood her fist clenched at her sides. Then, with a cry, she turned and ran out the door.

Cyrus sighed. “I guess I didn’t handle that very well.”

Neither did Nicki.” Levi gave him a sympathetic look. I take it she’s not fond of her aunt?”

“She was only three last time we saw Emily. I doubt that she even remembers her. If she did, she wouldn’t have reacted that way.” Cyrus rubbed his forehead tiredly. “My wife didn’t get along very well with her sister, and I think she must have poisoned Nicki’s mind.” He stared at the table unhappily. With the rapid deterioration of his health had come the certainly he’d not long to live. He’d sent for Emily, hoping she’d be able to guide his headstrong daughter through the difficult days ahead. If Nicki wouldn’t accept her...”

“I remember Emily.” The words flowed from Peter’s fingers. “She was my friend. I’m glad she’s coming.”

“Good.” Cyrus gripped his shoulder. “I just wish Nicki felt the same way.”

Peter glanced at Levi, then made several more gestures which Cyrus interpreted.

“He says he thinks somebody should go talk to Nicki. She’s had a rough day.”

“What about you, Peter?” Levi asked slowly signing the words he knew.

Peter shook his head violently and held up his hands. “He says she wouldn’t listen to him. Besides, you are too big for her to hurt.”

Levi laughed and stood up. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, much good as it will do me. All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

He found her in the barn, brushing Lollipop. Nicki looked up when she heard him then turned her attention back to the horse. “I suppose you think I’m being unfair to Aunt Emily, too.”

Levi shrugged and sat down on a saw horse. “I don’t have any idea. I haven’t met the lady.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the stars through the open door. “How are your ribs?”

Better, I think.” She paused in her brushing to touch her side. “It still hurts when I touch it, but otherwise I hardly know it’s there.”

“Do you feel any pain when you take a deep breath?”

Nicki drew air in through her nose then shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Good,” said Levi. “Then they’re probably just bruised. You should be as good as new in a few days.”

A companionable silence fell, broken only by the rhythmic whisk of the brush against Lollipop’s side. Finally Levi spoke. “Tell me about your aunt.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

Nicki eyed him suspiciously, but his face showed only relaxed good humor. “I don’t know very much about her. She’s quite a bit older than my mother, and used to tell her what to do.”

Levi chuckled. “My little brother says the same about me. Of course, he never listens, but I keep trying.” Levi picked up a piece of straw and began to chew on it. “Kind of like you and Peter.”

Nicki smiled in the near darkness. “I suppose so. Still my mother complained about it a lot.”

“What else do you know about your aunt?”

“Not much. She spends a lot of time helping sick people. She’s never been married, but she does have a daughter.”

“Oh?”

“Well, Liana isn’t actually Aunt Emily’s daughter. Her real mother died when she was born.” Nicki ran her hand along Lollipop’s neck thoughtfully. “Aunt Emily was the midwife, and nobody else wanted the baby because she was half Chinese. My mother thought it was horrible for Aunt Emily to take her in, but I really don’t know why.”

“Maybe your aunt was a trifle more open-minded than your mother,” Levi said.

Nicki looked down at him in surprise. Apparently, such an idea had never occurred to her.

Levi took the straw out of his mouth and stared at it for several seconds. “How did your mother die?” he asked after a few moments.

“She didn’t. At least I don’t think she’s dead. My mother ran away with a gambler.”

Levi’s brow furrowed in surprise. “I’m sorry, I no idea...”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad she’s gone.”

“Don’t you miss her?”

She tossed her head. “No. We’re a lot happier since Mother left. She was mean to Peter. Called him a dummy and wouldn’t even let him live in the house. That’s why Papa built the dog trot with Peter’s room on the other side.”

“Doesn’t sound to me like she was a very good judge of people.” Levi watched Nicki’s face as his words sank in. “Sure was wrong about Peter.”

“And you think she might have been wrong about Aunt Emily, too?”

“It’s a possibility.”

Levi watched the emotions chase their way across her features as she mulled over their conversation. Hers was more than just another pretty face. There was fire, but also compassion. At times Nicki seemed very young yet she was willing to fight for what she believed in. The greater the odds the harder she tried.

The full moon rising above the eastern horizon gilded the black curls in silver, and Levi caught his breath in wonder. In the moonlight she became a creature of ethereal beauty. He felt a tightening in his chest and almost groaned aloud. No, he wasn’t falling in love with her. Five long years had passed since that tender emotion had clouded his eyes and played him false. It was only the moonlight. In the same romantic setting any woman would affect him the same way. The stirring within was nothing more complicated than lust. It was inevitable; he’d been celibate far too long.

Nicki nodded her head decisively. “You’re right.”

“What?” For one startled second he thought she’d read his mind.

Nicki put down the brush and smiled at him. “It would be stupid for me to take my mother’s word for anything.

“Oh.”

“I’m not saying I’ll welcome Aunt Emily with open arms,” Nicki warned, “but I’ll give her a chance.” She untied the lead rope and led Lollipop outside to the corral.

Levi had just retrieved his saddle from the tack room and set it on the sawhorse when Nicki came back into the barn.

Her violet eyes were thoughtful. “It wouldn’t take much to fix up the storeroom next to Peter for Aunt Emily. Do you think she’ll know how to help Papa get better?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She’s probably seen hundreds of people with the same sickness...” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the saddle. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I thought I might go to town tonight.”

“Oh. A shadow flitted across her face. “Why?”

Levi picked up his bridle. “A man just needs to get away once in awhile, that’s all.”

“W...will you be here for breakfast?”

His teeth gleamed in the dim light. “I can’t think of anything that would keep me away from your flapjacks.”

She stood at the door staring him for several long minutes, as though memorizing his features. “Levi?”
“Yes?”

“Thanks for everything you’ve done for us.”

He turned toward her, surprised at her mournful tone. The uncertain look on her face spoke more eloquently than words. She didn’t think he was coming back. “I’ll be here tomorrow, Nicki. I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”

“I...Good-night.”

He walked to the door and watched her run across the barnyard to the house. “Good-night, Nicki,” he whispered softly.

BLOG #10 SCARS

I think it may have been here that I realized that people are a product of their lives. As human beings, we look at the world and filter what we see through our prior experiences. That’s why no two witnesses remember a scene quite the same way and why we tend to react differently to the same situation. In the first two drafts of Shadows in the Wind, the characters were superficial and fundamentally all the same. Only Levi and Charlie had any depth, and I think that was probably because they were based on a real people though I didn’t realize it at the time. That’s why it took eight rewrites before it was publishable and two more before I was finally satisfied with the characters I had created. Each rewrite added another layer of personality to each of them until finally each was distinctly different from the others.

Willow Creek was different from the very beginning. I think it had a lot to do with the character chart I mentioned before. I kept tweaking it, using Levi and Nicki for my guinea pigs. Hair and eye color were easy. Height and weight a bit tougher but didn’t stretch me a whole lot. The first surprise was that Levi would have been a boy during the Civil War, which meant his father had probably fought in it. It also meant he probably wasn’t born in the West and had most likely come to the territory with his family at the end of the war. Something like that would have had a profound effect on him and the way he saw the world.

The farther I went on the character sheet, the harder it was to fill it in. The fact that I didn’t know all the answers right away pulled me deeper in to the characters than I’d ever been before. What was Nicki’s favorite color and what were her hobbies? When and where was she born? What sort of education had she had? The deeper I dug the more real she became and I began to notice some basic fundamental difference between Nicki and Levi.

Friends:

Levi- just about everybody

Nicki- only Peter



Enemies:

Levi-nobody, everyone likes him and he sees everyone he meets as a potential friend.

Nicki-just about everyone. She is suspicious and doesn’t trust anyone except her father and Peter.



As I looked at the two charts I realized they were complete opposites when it came to relationships and that was the basic conflict that would keep them apart. Then I came to the scars- emotional and physical. Neither of them had physical scars but boy howdy did they have emotional ones! Nicki had been deserted by a mother who didn’t love her. Levi had given his heart to a woman who had none. Other scars that were even deeper and more profound developed later but these two got me started.

This chapter is where I started to weave those aspects of their personalities into the story. It added an amazing amount of depth to both Levi and Nicki. As a result Nicki walks around with a chip on her shoulder. In fact, in retrospect she is probably too defensive and unapproachable. More than any other I’ve gotten letter from fans saying they didn’t like her. I didn’t have the writing skills I do now and were I writing this book again, I would probably soften her a bit just to make her a bit more likable. Still, there are fans who think she’s great. She is what she is and her personality was set. Nicki may not be the most lovable heroine I ever created but she is Levi’s complete opposite and I think she works in the story.

The last question on the character chart asks for a one line description of the character. Put them together and Willow Creek is a love story between a big, lovable teddy bear of a man and a ninety-pound tomboy with an attitude. That pretty much says it all.

Issue #11
Levi argued with himself all the way to town. He hadn’t forgotten the hurt nor his vow to never let love blind him again. Cynthia Mason—even the name brought an angry twist of pain. She had been beautiful and sophisticated. Fresh from the East, Cynthia was totally unlike anyone he’d ever known before.

His brother had tried to warn him, but Levi hadn’t listened, not even when Cole told him Cynthia flirted outrageously. Levi had believed her when she said she loved only him. She had accepted his marriage proposal with a sweet smile and a passionate kiss, then disappeared two days later.

Rumor had it she’d run away with another man, but Levi’s broken heart refused to accept it. When the telegram had come from San Francisco, saying she’d been kidnapped, he believed every word. Ignoring the demand for ransom and the threats to her life if he refused, Levi had gone immediately, determined to save her from the monster who held her captive.

But when he arrived, he’d discovered it was all a clever to ruse, one she and her lover had used many times before to get money from unsuspecting men. For the first time in his life Levi had been angry enough to kill. Instead, he’d gone to the first tavern he could find and gotten rip-roaring drunk. The next morning he’d been on his way to China.

Levi sighed as the lights of town came into view. Maybe he should be grateful to Cynthia. His anger had made him mean enough to survive the rigors of shipboard life. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d have never seen the world, nor would he have known how much a broken heart could hurt.

He wasn’t ready to face that kind of pain again, and he certainly wasn’t going to fall in love with someone so much younger than he was. It was pointless to worry about it, anyway. A bottle of whiskey and a friendly saloon girl would take care of his illusions of falling in love with Nicki.

Although Nowood was a small town, the saloon was nearly full. It was a rowdy crowd, and no one paid him the slightest heed as he walked to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey. He grimaced as the rot-gut burned a path down his throat. Good the worse the whiskey was, the faster it washed away the nasty taste he always got in his mouth when he thought of Cynthia.

He’d downed three shots and was working on his fourth when his concentration was broken by a soft voice at his shoulder.

“Hello, cowboy. Want some company?”

He was pleased to see she was young and not too bad looking, with the ravages of her profession only starting to show on her face. The brassy red hair met with his approval too—neither blonde like Cynthia, nor dark like Nicki. She’d do just fine to blot out the two women preying on his mind.

“Company is just what I need.” He favored her with a slow lazy smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Why?” She looked pointedly at the bottle. “You planning on drinking that all yourself?”

Levi laughed. “It’s hardly the drink for a woman. Wouldn’t you rather have something else?”
“Joe’ll just give me colored water and charge you for a drink. It’ll be cheaper if I share yours.”

Levi called for another glass and smiled down at his companion. “The name’s Levi Cantrell. “What’s yours?”

She looked up at him in amazement. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to know her name, at least not when they were sober. “They call me Sally Mae.”

“Is that your name?”

Sally Mae shrugged. “Close enough.”

“Well, Sally Mae the night’s still young and we’ve got a bottle to kill.”

Levi found Sally Mae to be surprisingly good company, and the more he drank the nicer she looked. She was far better than what he’d expected when he’d headed to town, yet he kept putting off the inevitable. They both knew where it would end, but somehow violet eyes and black curls kept getting in the way.

“You haven’t touched your drink.” Levi gestured toward the full glass sitting on the bar.

“I don’t drink much.” She grinned. “Especially not this stuff. Joe likes us to drink with the customers because he sells more that way. Normally he’d be giving me the evil eye, but you’ve been putting away enough for both of us.”

Sally Mae watched Levi stare into the bottom of his glass. Usually she didn’t give the men in the saloon a second thought, but this one was different. With his infectious laugh and twinkling blue-gray eyes, she found herself liking him. “It isn’t working is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“The whiskey.”

He gave her a blank look and she shook her head. “I know when a man comes here to forget. Only it isn’t working for you.”

“How do you figure that?”

She gave an unlady-like snort. “If the whiskey had done the trick, we’d have been upstairs long ago.”

“Let’s go now.”

“If that’s what you want.” Sally eyed him almost wistfully. “But something tells me you don’t, not really.”
After several seconds he sighed ruefully. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out three silver dollars. “For your time.”

“No,” she said softly, closing his fingers over the money. “It was nice to just stand and talk for once, to be treated like a person instead of a...” she shrugged, but they both knew what she meant.

On impulse she reached up and gently ran her fingers across his cheek. “I hope she realizes how lucky she is.”

“Who?”

She smiled wisely. “The one you came to forget.” She patted his arm and strolled away, leaving him to stare pensively into his glass.

What had just happened? He’d come to town looking for someone to slake his lust, a straight forward business transaction with no recriminations and no guilt. Sally Mae was exactly what he’d been searching for. He’d even enjoyed her company. So why hadn’t the thought of bedding her appealed to him? He took another drink as he pondered the question. Perhaps it was just a momentary fluke, brought on by Nicki’s sad little farewell. Or maybe the thought of Cynthia was responsible. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d unmanned him.

“And I say Chandler’s been rustling calves all along.”

The words pulled Levi out of his self-absorption. He hadn’t paid any attention when the two cowboys had sidled up to the bar. Now he was unsurprised to find Shorty and another, vaguely familiar man standing less that ten feet form him. After a moment Levi identified the other man as the third cowboy who had been with Shorty and Buck the day he’d met Nicki.”

“I figure you’re right, Slim, only he ain’t man enough to do it himself. He’s got his kid and that dummy doing it for him.”

The two men were spoiling for a fight, and in his present mood he wasn’t averse to accommodating them. In fact, maybe that’s just what he needed. The anger from this afternoon still burned in his gut. Finishing what he’d started might feel damned good.

“Did you say something to me?” he asked, turning slightly and leaning an elbow on the bar.

“I don’t talk to sod-bustin’ scum like you,” Shorty sneered.

“That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Levi said. “Seems to me you get yourself in trouble every time you open your mouth.” He turned back to his drink.

“I think you’ve got him worried, Shorty,” the other cowboy raised his voice slightly. “He knows we ain’t gonna let him get away with what he did to Buck.”
Shorty nodded. “That’s right, poor old Buck was just doing his job and they jumped him. Stove him up so bad he’ll likely be in bed for a week.” His eyes narrowed. “I notice you ain’t so brave without your dummy friend.”

Levi swirled the whiskey in his glass. “People who spend their time abusing children don’t scare me.”

“Too bad you come along when you did. Buck and I would’a had us some fun with that kid.” He smiled nastily. “After you and the dummy taking turns with her, she’d a probably liked some real men for a change.”

Before Shorty had drawn his next breath he found himself suspended by his coat lapels, his face just inches from Levi’s. “You want to fight, we’ll fight, but leave the girl out of it, or so help me God, I’ll make you’ll wish you’d never been born!” Levi thrust him away with such violence that Shorty staggered against the bar. Without another look, Levi turned and strode toward the entrance. “We’ll finish this outside,” he called back over his shoulder.

He had just stepped through the door when a slight sound warned him. In one fluid motion, Levi ducked and turned on the balls of his feet catching Slim in the midsection with his shoulder. The bottle in Slim’s hand crashed harmlessly to the ground at almost the same instant Levi’s fist connected with his jaw.

The impact carried Slim into Shorty, and the two stumbled backward into the saloon. With a bellow of rage, the two surged to their feet.

Though the fight was over fairly soon, the crowd that gathered to watch the fight wasn’t disappointed. At first it seemed as though the two cowhands from the Bar X had the advantage, but not for long. Not only was the big man surprisingly quick on his feet, he fought with a calculated determination the other two lacked.

To Levi, it was an outlet for all the anger and frustration that had been building inside him. He was almost disappointed when the last of his adversaries dropped to the ground unconscious.

Levi shook his head to clear it, as he leaned against the side of the building. The first thing he saw was Sally Mae striding toward him as the rest crowd disappeared back into the saloon.

“Turning your back on those two is asking for trouble,” she remarked dabbing blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks for warning me.”

“Better get this taken care of before you bleed all over the side of Joe’s saloon. It’s bad for business.”

Levi didn’t even notice the many looks of admiration cast his way as she led him through the crowded bar to a small room beyond. She had just finished bathing the blood from his face when the door burst open. It was the saloon’s owner and he didn’t look pleased.

“What are you doing?” Joe barked.

Sally Mae didn’t even look up. “What does it look like I’m doing.”

“Since when is this a doctor’s office?”

“Since I decided to use it for one.” Moving the bowl of reddened water to one side she calmly opened a bottle of iodine and glanced up at the irate bartender. “I figured you’d want to show your appreciation to this man.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why would I want to do that?”

“He could have busted up the place you know,” she turned her attention to the cut above Levi’s eye.

“Not my fault he picked a fight,” Joe mumbled. “And I don’t pay you to play nursemaid to every two bit drifter that happens by. You got customers out there.”

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

“You’d better be,” he grumbled as he turned to go. “Lowell wants to talk to him.” He slammed the door behind him.

“My, my,” said Sally Mae with a raised eyebrow. “A summons from Mr. Lowell no less.”

“Who’s he?” Levi asked as though he’d never heard the name before. It would be interesting to see if Sally Mae’s opinion of the cattle baron matched Nicki’s.

“Herman Lowell?” Sally Mae dabbed iodine on Levi’s knuckles. “He’s ‘bout the richest man around these parts. When he says jump, most folks do it. Not a good man to cross.”

“What would he want with me?”

“Those were his men you left out there in the dirt. Could be he’s not real happy about that.” Critically surveying Levi’s hands, she pushed the cork back into the bottle. “There, that should heal nicely.”

Levi stood up and flexed his hand experimentally. “Thanks, Sally Mae. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Joe. He’s all bark and no bite. You’d best be going. Mr. Lowell doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” She bit her lip as he watched him go. If Herman Lowell thought Levi Cantrell was a problem, those blue-gray eyes wouldn’t be twinkling around here much longer.

BLOG #11 The Saloon

When I filled out Levi’s character chart, one of the questions that stumped me was pasttimes and hobbies. It was toward the beginning so I hadn’t yet realized I wasn’t going to be able to answer everything. I thought about it for several minutes then wrote down carpentry and hanging out in saloons. In retrospect I have no idea why I came up with the carpentry, but I do remember thinking that Levi was a pretty gregarious guy, and would really enjoy being around people. In Shadows in the Wind, he headed to the saloon almost as soon as he go thome. Back in the 1880’s the best place to find lots of people was at church and/or the saloon. I’m sure Levi was a church-goer; pretty much everyone was back then, but he could only meet people at church on Sunday. A saloon, on the other hand, was always a hopping place. Levi obviously went there to socialize and have a good time.

If television and movies are to be believed, saloons always had saloon girls. Sally Mae was the first of many that found their way into my books. Oddly enough, Sally Mae from Willow Creek, Rosie from Murphy’s Rainbow, and Angel from Meadowlark all seemed to have the same personality. In retrospect, I think they are different stages in the development of a character. With each book, I added a bit more to her characterization until Angel was so well developed that she wound up with her own book. Quite a step from Sally Mae who only had a small walk-on part. Yes, Sally Mae was my first saloon girl with a heart of gold, but she wasn’t my last. In fact, there is a saloon girl in the book I’m writing now. She is considerably younger than the others and I think will probably wind up with one of my secondary characters. Right he's teaching her how to read. It will be quite interesting to watch what develops.

Levi goes to the local saloon in an attempt to put his feelings for Nicki in the proper perspective. After a rather surprising exchange with a saloon girl named Sally Mae, Levi is goaded into a fight with the two uninjured cowpokes from the Bar X. Hoping that the fight will help ease his frustrations, he enters the fray with relish and dispatches the pair in short order. Sally Maeis patching up is wounds when a summons comes from Herman Lowell who awaits him at a table in the saloon.
Issue #12
Even across the crowded saloon, Levi had no trouble identifying Herman Lowell. Years of battling the elements were clearly etched into his still handsome face, though no one would dare call him old. He had about him an indefinable aura of power. It wasn’t just the tall lean body, nor the glacial blue eyes that looked as if they could see into a man’s soul. He was obviously a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed, instantly and without question.

Levi strode over to the table and extended his hand. “Levi Cantrell, Mr. Lowell. They said you wanted to see me.”

Rising half way out of his chair, Lowell shook the proffered hand. “Ah, Mr. Cantrell.” He indicated a chair on the opposite of the table. “Have a seat. I’ve been hearing a great deal about you lately.” He crooked his finger to a passing saloon girl. “Bring us a bottle of my special stock and a glass for Mr. Cantrell.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “You will join me in a drink won’t you?”

Levi smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“I noticed your bay when I rode up...good-looking animal.”

“Thanks, I picked her up in San Francisco last fall.” Levi didn’t even question how Herman Lowell had identified the mare as his out of all the horses tied outside. Men like Lowell made it their business to notice insignificant details. It gave them the edge. If Lowell was the undisputed ruler of the area, it was because he’d earned it.

“I’ve done business with some Cantrells over near Horse Creek. Any relation?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“They have some of the finest horse flesh in the country.”

Levi leaned back in his chair. “Oh?”

The girl returned to set the bottle and two glasses on the table. Lowell poured the drinks and sat back, turning his glass idly in his hand. “That was quite a fight earlier,” he commented finally. “Most entertainment folks have had around here in a long time.”

“If you like fights. Personally, I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do.”

Herman Lowell raised an eyebrows. “Three of my best hands put out of commission in one day and you say you don’t like fights?”

“Actually I can only take credit for two. Peter was responsible for the one this afternoon.”

“You mean the dummy?” Herman Lowell looked surprised. “I find that nothing short of amazing.”
“Why? Just because he can’t hear doesn’t mean he’s blind too. He did what any man would do if he saw his women folk threatened.”

“Buck and Shorty said she was trying to rustle a Bar X calf.”

“Did they also tell you the calf’s mother had an Eleven Bar One brand on her side?”

“No, Shorty said there was an Eleven Bar One cow, but there wasn’t any way of knowing if the calf belonged to it,” Lowell said, never taking his eyes from Levi’s face. “A man’s got to be careful when he runs his cattle on the open range. How many mavericks are just calves that have been penned up till they forget their Mamas? No way to tell who they belong then and it’s legal to slap any brand on them.”

“You think Chandler is stealing your cattle?”

“I’ve known Cyrus Chandler for a long time. He’s always been an honest man, but it wouldn’t be the first time a man turned to rustling when money was short.”

“So what does all this have to do with me?”

“Nothing really unless Chandler is rustling cattle, and you’re helping him do it.”

A dangerous glint in Levi’s eye proved the insult had not gone unnoticed. “Only a fool would do that, Mr. Lowell, and I’m not a fool.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Herman Lowell smiled. “You haven’t touched your drink Mr. Cantrell.”

“Neither have you.”

“You’re a cautious man, Mr. Cantrell. I wonder why.”

“I’ve had two unpleasant run-ins with your men today. After I dumped two of them in the dirt, you offer me a drink from your ‘special stock’, and you still haven’t told me why you wanted to talk to me.”

Lowell laughed and raised his glass in a salute. “I see your point Mr. Cantrell. However, it’s perfectly safe, and I think you’ll find it considerably more palatable than Joe’s regular whiskey.” He drained his glass and refilled it. “Actually I wanted to meet you for a couple of reasons. Not many men could have beaten Shorty and Slim the way you did tonight. I’m curious where you learned how to fight.”

“From a younger brother and half a dozen hard bitten old sea dogs.” Levi sipped the amber liquid and smiled. “Yes, a definite improvement.”

“You’re a sailor then?”

“Was temporarily. You said there were a couple of reasons you wanted to talk. What’s the other?”

“I could use a man like you in my operation,” Lowell said.

“I already have a job.”

“You mean working for Chandler?” Herman Lowell dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I can pay you twice what he does, and it’s the kind of work you’re used to, working cattle, not farming.”

“What makes you think I’m not a farmer?”

Lowell gave a short laugh. “You’re not the type. Somehow I just can’t picture you behind a plow.”

“You may be right about that,” Levi said with a wry grin. “But I think I’ll stick with it for awhile anyway.”

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Don’t mind at all. It’s something I’ve never done before so I thought I’d give it a try. Who knows I may take out a homestead of my own someday.”

Lowell considered this for several seconds then shook his head. “No, I think sodbusting’s just a temporary thing. You have the look of a man who’s spent most of his time in the saddle. That kind of life is hard to walk away from. How did you wind up farming?”

“I was getting low on money and Cyrus Chandler offered me a job,” Levi said with a shrug. “I promised I’d stay at least until the spring work was finished.”

“Now why would a drifter prefer working for a down on his luck dirt farmer rather than a spread like the Bar X?”

“For one thing, I’m a man of my word. Besides, the little ‘discussion’ I had with your men this afternoon left me with a bad taste in my mouth for you and your whole operation.”

“I find that very odd,” Lowell said in surprise “Surely you understand a man in my position can’t be too careful. My men are paid to keep their eyes open, and to protect what’s mine.”

Remembering what Buck and Shorty had planned for Nicki, Levi’s hand tightened around his glass. “Thanks for your offer, but I think I’ll stick with the Chandlers.”

“Sod busting isn’t very safe these days.” Lowell’s voice held a warning note.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“The range is pretty short on water this year,” Lowell said. “If it comes to a fight it wouldn’t be too smart to be on the wrong side.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Levi drained his glass and stood up. “It’s time I was heading home. Thanks for the drink, Mr. Lowell.”

“You sure you won’t reconsider?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well the offer’s still open if you change your mind.”

Levi put on his hat. “I’ll remember that. Good night.”

Herman Lowell sat pensively staring into his drink long after Levi walked out the door.
* * *

“Where’s Levi this morning?” Cyrus wondered out loud as he watched his daughter putting breakfast on the table. “He’s usually been up for hours by now.”

Nicki glanced toward the door for at least the tenth time and shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “I don’t know. He went to town last night, maybe he decided to stay.”

Inwardly she was not so calm. His sudden restlessness the night before had been as unexpected as it was unnerving. Unable to sleep, she’d sneaked back to the barn long after she should have been in bed. All his things had been there with only his saddle and horse missing. He obviously intended to come back, but where was he now?

When the door opened several minutes later Nicki’s heart leaped to her throat, but it was only Peter. The surge of intense disappointment surprised her. What on earth was happening to her?

“Have you seen Levi, Peter?” Cyrus asked.

Peter nodded and grinned. Putting one hand to his head and the other to his stomach he made a face of intense suffering.

“He’s sick?” Nicki was instantly concerned. “Maybe I’d better go see...”

Before she could finish, Peter held up an imaginary glass, downed the contents with a quick flick of the wrist, and grinned once more.

Cyrus chuckled. “Too much of Joe’s rotgut whiskey?”
Peter nodded and attacked his breakfast with great enthusiasm. He was just finishing the last of the pancakes when Levi finally made his appearance.

“You look a little worse for the wear this morning,” Cyrus remarked cheerfully.

“I’m sure I don’t look half as bad as I feel.” Levi eased himself into his chair and sighed. “That stuff Joe sells for whiskey could easily pass as kerosene.”

“Appears whiskey wasn’t the only thing you ran into last night,” Cyrus said. “Your face looks like somebody used it for a battering ram!”

Levi touched his swollen lip tenderly. “Just a small difference of opinion. I convinced them to see things my way.”

“Them?”

“A couple of drunk cowboys spoiling for a fight. Wish they’d found somebody else though.”

Nicki slammed a cup of coffee onto the table in front of him. “You’re too late for breakfast!”

Wincing, Levi looked up at her and smiled wanly. “I know, but I couldn’t have done justice to your cooking this morning anyway.”

“I hope you don’t expect special privileges just because you have a hangover. You don’t get paid to spend the night in the saloon drinking and fighting.” She turned and stomped back to the stove.

What’s wrong with her?” he asked in a low voice.

Peter’s eyes sparkled as he made the sign for women, and rolled his eyes as Levi had the day before.

Levi smiled. “You’re right about that!” With another look at Nicki’s back, he shrugged and drank his coffee.

Blog #12 Herman Lowell

I really wanted to dislike Herman Lowell. After all, he is the villain of the story… sort of. Yet, even in this piece where I first introduced him, he didn’t really come off as the bad guy. He was obviously a powerful man and one who kept a sharp eye on everyone and everything in his “domain”. That came off pretty much as I had planned except that he wasn’t as threatening as I had thought he would be. Of course that probably had as much to do with Levi as Herman Lowell. For one thing Jonathan Cantrell and even Levi himself wielded almost as much power as Herman Lowell. For another thing, it would be nearly impossible to intimidate Levi.

Though Herman Lowell arrived fully fleshed out, I still don’t know who I used for my inspiration. I created the name from a real life cattle baron named Henry Lovell. Lovell was from the area where I grew up, but I really know very little about him. Now I would probably research Henry Lovell and create Herman Lowell out of the bits and pieces I discovered. At that point, though, there was no Internet and research was considerably more difficult. It would have been especially difficult in this case because Henry Lovell wasn’t particularly important to history except in the Big Horn Basin of Wyoming where there is even a town named after him (Lovell).

I suspect Herman Lowell is a compilation of all the cattle barons and big ranchers I’d seen in countless movies and TV programs. Wherever he came from, he was nothing like I expected him to be. Somehow those are the characters I like best.

Issue #13 When Levi encounters Herman Lowell after his fight, the cattle Baron offers him a job. Levi declines, and he receives a thinly veiled threat about the inadvisability of being on the wrong side in a range war. The next morning he wakes with a hangover and the job of fetching Nicki’s Aunt Emily from the stage.

Issue #13
Levi was feeling a little better when he made the trip to town several hours later. But when the stage finally arrived, Emily Patterson didn’t appear to be on it.

“Are you sure those are all the passengers?” Levi asked, trying to ignore the strong smell of whiskey that surrounded the stage driver.

“Yup. We ain’t been here long enough to lose one of ‘em.” He laughed at his own bad joke and spit a stream of tobacco at a hapless beetle scurrying across the street. “I had three to drop off at Nowood, and that’s how many got off unless you count the baby.”

Levi glanced over his shoulder at the small group on the sidewalk. A young mother comforted a crying toddler while the grandmother, a tiny bird of a woman, held a small baby. “There was supposed to be another woman. Could she have gone into the store?”

“Nope.” The driver dumped a large trunk on the ground and took a swig from his pocket flask. “‘Reckon she could’a got off at the wrong stop.”

With a sigh, Levi turned back toward the store. What had happened to Emily Patterson? He and Peter had arrived after the stage and there had been no sign of the lady. Could she have gotten off at the wrong town as the driver suggested?

As the stage rumbled out of town, the two women on the sidewalk were joined by an older couple. After a flurry of welcoming hugs, the younger woman and her children left with them. The remaining lady scanned the street as though looking for someone. She wasn’t at all what Levi had expected, but maybe...

Excuse me,” Levi said, approaching the woman hesitantly. “Are you Emily Patterson?” Levi could have sworn her eyes widened in dismay though it was difficult to tell behind the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Y...yes.”

“I’m Levi Cantrell. Cyrus Chandler sent me to pick you up.”

“Oh, my...I mean...H...how do you do?”

Levi knew he wasn’t imagining the way her face paled. What ailed the woman? He’d seen his share of nervous females in his life but this one took the cake. Cyrus actually thought this frail delicate woman would be able to control Nicki?

Levi wished Peter would hurry up and join them. Maybe he should have taken care of the wagon and let Peter meet the stage.

But when Peter finally arrived he made no move toward Emily. Instead he stood there regarding her with a challenging look.

Emily stared back, puzzled. Suddenly she gasped, “Good heavens, Peter!” Without a second thought about the years that had passed since she last held the sobbing child in her arms, Emily took several quick steps and embraced him.

Levi sighed in relief as Peter hugged her back, a genuinely happy smile on his face.

She stepped back and gazed up at Peter in admiration. “Oh, Peter I’m so glad to see you. My how you’ve changed.”

Peter smiled and gave her another hug before he went pick up her trunk.

“Did you need to get anything in town before we go,” Levi asked.

“N..no, I don’t think so. Do we have far to go?”

“A few miles.”

“I see.” She looked a little ill as she pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and proceeded to clean the layers of dust from her glasses.

“You’re not the first Easterner to be a little over whelmed,” Levi said.

“It’s not that so much, though it is rather wild out here. I’m not much of a traveler, and the driver hit every hole between here and Cheyenne. The man was a little too fond of his bottle if you ask me.” She put her glasses back on and looked up at him. “There that’s better...Good heavens, Mr. Cantrell, have you been in an accident?”

A sudden image of what his battered face must look like flashed into his mind. No wonder she was so nervous around him. “A fight, actually, but don’t worry,” he said with a smile, “I never hurt women or small children.

* * *
“Well, here we are,” Levi said half an hour later as he pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. He secured the horses, and jumped down to help Emily, but Cyrus was there before him, his face wreathed in smiles as he held his hands out to his sister-in-law.

“Welcome to Wyoming, my dear, welcome to Wyoming.”

Levi pulled the heavy trunk off the back of the wagon, smiling to himself as Emily and Cyrus hugged each other joyfully. They were obviously old friends as well as in-laws. With a few gestures Peter volunteered to take the trunk into the house, and Levi eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

Peter gazed at him with a look of pure innocence. “To help, of course. She is not afraid of me,” he signed.

Levi caught a sparkle of mischief in the brown eyes and realized Peter was actually teasing him. For the first time all day he felt good, really good.

Extremely pleased that Peter finally seemed to have accepted him, Levi drove the wagon to the barn and unhitched the team.

After the bright spring sunshine the barn was nearly dark at first. It wasn’t until his eyes began to adjust that he realized he was not alone. Nicki was watching him from a hay pile. “Did you come to make sure I still know how to unharness a horse?” he asked with a slight smile.

“I just wanted to make sure Peter remembered to feed the cow. He got done with his chores awfully fast this morning”

Levi nodded gravely as he unbuckled the traces from the horses. “And did he?”

“Yeah.” Nicki rubbed her toe on the ground nonchalantly. “How was your trip to town?”

“About the same as usual.” Levi knew full well she wanted to know about Emily Patterson, but decided to let her stew a little. Silence reigned as he finished removing the harnesses and hung them in the tack room.

“I don’t blame you for being scared,” he said at last as he picked up the curry comb and began brushing the horse. “Your aunt Emily is a frightening person.”

“I’m not scared,” Nicki began indignantly, then looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean she’s frightening?”

“Well, she’s about the same size as you are, only older of course, and wears thick glasses.”

“That doesn’t sound frightening.”

“No, but then the trip tired her out, I think. She might be vicious when she rests up. You never know about these tiny women.”

Nicki eyed him suspiciously. “I think you’re being ridiculous. She’s probably a perfectly normal person.”

“That’s right,” he said gently. “So there’s no reason for you to hide in the barn is there?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Oh? What would you call it?”

“I came to check on the cow.”

“Peter probably hasn’t forgotten to feed the cow since he was a kid,” Levi pointed out.

Nicki jumped to her feet and walked to window. “Look, I’m not hiding. I’m not really sure why I came down here, but I’m not afraid.”

Levi glanced up from his work. “Then go meet her. She came two thousand miles to see you. I think you owe her that much, don’t you?”

“I guess so.” She turned slowly and walked toward the door where she paused and looked back over her shoulder. “But remember, I only said I’d give her a chance.”

“That’s all anybody’s asking you to,” Levi said, turning his attention back to the horse.

Nicki could hear excited chatter through the open doorway before she even got to the house. ‘My dear Aunt Emily certainly made herself at home,’ she thought resentfully. Wondering how Levi had once again managed to convince her to do things his way, she stepped through the door and waited.

Almost immediately Emily spied her standing by the door and stood up, her eyes widening. “Samantha?” she whispered. Then she shook her head. “No, of course not. It’s Nicole isn’t it? How silly of me.”

There was barely time for an indignant, “My name is Nicki!” before Emily enveloped her in a tight hug. A protest died on Nicki’s lips as the nostalgic smell of lavender washed over her. From somewhere deep inside, vague memories of loving warmth rose, and a lump formed in her throat as
tears prickled behind closed eyelids. Swallowing hard against the sudden constriction, Nicki fought the feelings, frightened by the unfamiliar emotion.

“Nicki is it?”

“Yes, Nicki,” she repeated emphatically, opening her eyes. To her surprise the other woman didn’t appear the least offended.

“It fits you very well,” Emily said with approval. “Now let me get a good look at you. “

Nicki set her jaw and stared back at her aunt. Emily was much as Levi had described her, short and middle-aged without a speck of her sister’s flamboyant beauty. Now the light blue eyes behind thick glasses sparkled. She was apparently pleased by what she saw.

“You resemble your mother a great deal, but I see much of your father in you as well.”

Cyrus chuckled behind her. “And she reminds me more of you every day, Emily. Not just because she’s small either; she’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide.”

Emily turned and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Me? Stubborn? Now, if that isn’t the kettle calling the pot black. I seem to remember bit of obstinacy from you on occasion. How about the time...”

Half an hour later, Nicki slipped unnoticed from the house. She left her father and aunt still happily reminiscing, while Peter watched in fascination. Confused and uncertain, her steps took her unerringly to the barn where she found Levi working on the plow.

“Well,” he said, glancing up with a smile, “How did it go?”

Nicki shrugged. “Fine I guess. I wasn’t rude to her if that’s what you mean.”

“But you wanted to be?”

“No. Well maybe at first, but she didn’t give me a chance.”

Levi laughed. “Good for her.”

“I don’t think she liked me much.”

“Oh?”

“She hardly talked to me at all.”

“Maybe she’s the quiet type.”

Nicki shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. She and Papa went on and on about things that happened back in Massachusetts.”

“She and your father haven’t seen each other for seventeen years.” Levi grimaced with effort as he tugged on a stiff nut at the bottom of the plow. “They probably have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Nicki bit her lip. “When she hugged me I felt so strange.”

Levi’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Strange how?”
“As soon as I smelled her perfume I felt funny. Kind of like I remembered being little and someone was holding me.”

“Maybe you do remember her,” he said. “Or maybe something about it reminded you of your mother.”

“No, my mother didn’t hold me much. Anyway, she’s not much like my mother.”

“Were you afraid she would be?”

“Sort of I guess.”

“Why?” Levi pulled the bolt out and glanced up at her. “What’s wrong with your mother?”

For a moment Nicki was tempted to tell him, but then the image of a lace curtain billowing out from an open window flitted through her mind. What she had seen inside that room had forever changed her image of her mother and herself. No, Levi must never know what her mother was, never!

“Nicki? What is it?”

Nicki started, realizing she hadn’t answered his question. “There are many things I don’t like about my mother, but I’d rather not talk about her. What are you doing, by the way?”

“Taking the plow share off so we can take it to the blacksmith and get it sharpened,” he answered, accepting the change of subject gracefully. “Your father says it’s time Peter and I start the spring plowing.”

“Oh.” Nicki watched silently as he loosed another nut and removed the bolt. “Do you think I look like my father?” she asked suddenly.

He looked at her in surprise. “I can’t say that I ever thought about it. Hmm...” He pushed his hat back on his head and gazed at her critically for several seconds before nodding decisively. “I guess you do at that, especially your mouth and chin.”

“Do you really think so?” Nicki was delighted. “I never realized it until Aunt Emily said so.” Why had it never occurred to her she wasn’t just Samantha’s daughter, she was also Cyrus’s. Perhaps the taint didn’t go as deep as she feared. Maybe she didn’t have to wind up like Samantha.

Blog #13 Aunt Emily

I remember loving this chapter when I wrote it. I also recall redoing the first meeting between Levi and Emily Patterson several times before I got the effect I wanted. Neither was at their best. Levi is hung over and hurting from his fight the night before. Emily, who tends to get carriage sick when she travels over rough roads, is exhausted, queasy and peering at the world through glasses covered with a thick layer of dust. As a result they both misjudged each other entirely. I seem to remember at least one different version where Emily took one look at Levi and hurried into the store to get away from what looked like a terrifying ruffian. I toned it down when it occurred to me that a woman that timid would be useless for Cyrus’s purpose. This version works well I think. It portrays a certain nervousness on Emily’s part, which I think would be natural under the circumstances.

Like Levi, I was somewhat surprised by Emily but like the saloon girl, she is a character type that shows up in several of my books. Emily Patterson from Willow Creek, Kate Murphy from Shadows in the Wind, Belle Dayton fromMurphy’s Rainbow and Becky from>Wild Honey are all the quintessential mother type.

Peter, meanwhile, comes into his own. He had been developing gradually but in this chapter he really comes to life. His meeting with Emily and his teasing remarks to Levi give insight into his character without the heavy handed manipulation I had used in my first book. (Don’t worry, it had disappeared by the fifth rewrite. Shadows in the Wind is perfectly safe to read.)

The reader learns a little more about Nicki’s emotional scars too. My friend Val, who was also my very first reader, suggested I reveal it a bit at a time. To my amazement, I was able to pull it off…I think. It’s impossible to judge your own writing. At any rate I liked this chapter when I wrote it and I still do. I hope you did too.

Issue #14

“Whoa!” Levi pulled back on the reins, and the two huge draft horses came to a stop next to Nicki at the edge of the field. He smiled as he removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “What brings you up here?”

“Some grain for the horses and your lunch.” Nicki held up a burlap bag with one hand and a basket with the other. “Since you said you weren’t coming in at noon today, Aunt Emily fixed you something to eat out here.”

“And sent you up with it.”

Nicki grinned. “I volunteered. It was either that or muck out the barn.”

Levi laughed as he unhitched the team and led them out of the field, down to the creek for a drink. “So I’m the less of two evils?”

“Just about anything is better than shoveling manure,” Nicki told him as she followed him and spread the blanket under a small cottonwood tree next to the stream.

“Even bringing lunch to me?”

“Yes, even that!”

Hiding his amusement, Levi secured the team while Nicki laid out his lunch on the blanket.

“Aren’t you going to unharness them?”

“No, I’m not going to stop that long.”

Nicki paused to frown at him. “Papa says you should give the horses at least an hour rest at noon. They do the hardest part of the work.”

“I know, and your father’s right.” He gestured toward huge clouds billowing up on the western horizon. “But I only have about a quarter of an acre left in this field, and I want to get done before that hits.”

“Do you want me to go get the other team?”

“No, it shouldn’t take much more than an hour.

Nicki surveyed the field. “An hour?”

“Well, I hope so.” He took off his hat and sank down on the blanket with a tired sigh. “Hmm,” he said looking over the meal. “Either Emily thought I’d be half starved or she figured on you helping me eat it.”

Nicki picked up a chicken leg. “It so happens I packed this, not Aunt Emily.” She took a bite and closed her eyes in appreciation. “Aunt Emily may not be able to make biscuits, but her fried chicken is heavenly.”

“You’re never going to forget those biscuits are you?” Levi grinned as he picked up a thick slice of bread and butter.

“They were hard as rocks,” she reminded him. “Papa even tried dunking one in his coffee, and he still couldn’t eat it.”

“True, but not everyone has your knack with biscuits.”

Nicki tried to pretend his compliment meant nothing to her but she was conscious of a warm glow deep inside. Levi Cantrell made her feel things she was anything but comfortable with. Curious flutterings in her stomach, and shortness of breath hit her at the oddest moments when she was around him.

Sometimes, just before sleep overtook her, when fantasies seemed possible, she could almost believe she was like any other young woman who was falling in love. But she recognized the feelings for what they really were, the first stirrings of lust. As Samantha Chandler’s daughter she knew there was no such thing as love; it was only an illusion, one created by men to control women. Life had taught her not to trust a man with anything, especially not her heart.

“So,” said Levi, taking a piece of chicken and settling back on the blanket, “is it just the forlorn hope that Peter will save you from a nasty chore that brings you out here, or do you have an ulterior motive?”

“I doubt Peter will take my hint about the barn. He was acting like he didn’t understand a word I said. I hate it when he does that!” Nicki sighed, “Actually I just came to see how the work was going. Papa wants to know when you think you’ll be able to start plowing the hay fields?”

“That depends. Did Peter finish shingling the barn roof?”

Nicki nodded. “About half an hour ago.”

“Good, then if I can get through this field today we can start tomorrow.” Levi took a bite. “You know, I still have my reservations about this lucerne or alfalfa or whatever it is.”

Nicki bristled defensively. “I suppose you think it won’t work. You’re just like everybody else around here, refusing to even try anything different.”
“Whoa now. I didn’t say it wouldn’t work. I only meant I have a hard time believing it’s possible to have as much as three cutting of hay in one year. After you harvest prairie grass, it doesn’t grow much for the rest of the summer.”

She snorted. “Some farm hand you are.”

“You’re right about that.” He chuckled. “Cowboys don’t know a whole lot about farming, and I’m as ignorant as any of the rest. I warned your father the day he hired me.”

Nicki was about to make a stinging retort when she remembered how efficiently Levi had handled branding the Chandler’s small herd. The job that had always taken most of the day, was accomplished before noon. “I guess it’s all a matter of what you’re used to,” she admitted. “Papa says the key to growing alfalfa hay is water. Look, I’ll show you.”

With a stick, she began to scratch pictures into the dirt. But Levi didn’t listen very closely as she explained the system of ditches Cyrus Chandler had devised. Though he tried, the finer points of flood irrigation couldn’t hold his attention when the movement of her lips kept distracting him with mental images that quickened his pulse.

For the last two weeks he’d tried to squelch the tender feelings she inspired. He was just too old for her. Usually he was reasonably successful, but not today. When he found himself daydreaming about making love to her there under the tree with the dappled sunlight playing across their naked bodies, he jumped to his feet in alarm.

“We’ll plant the alfalfa with a crop of oats. That way we’ll have oat hay this year even though the alfalfa won’t...What’s the matter?” Nicki asked, startled by his sudden movement.

“Nothing.” He grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. “I have to get going, that’s all.”

“But you haven’t finished eating,” she protested. “And the horses aren’t rested yet.”

Desperately he searched his mind for an excuse to put distance between them. “I know but I just thought of something I need to do.”

“What?”

“I...ah...I need to walk the part I’m going to plow this afternoon and look for big rocks. We don’t need a broken plow share.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Thanks for bringing my lunch up,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at supper.”

Nicki stared after him, perplexed. “I wonder what got into him,” she mumbled. Irritation battled with disappointment as she gathered the remains of their aborted picnic. She’d looked forward to lunch all morning. Other than getting the answer to Cyrus’s question she might just as well stayed home!

It was well for Nicki’s peace of mind that she never stopped to wonder why time alone with Levi was so important to her. The answer would have scared her half to death.

Since the giant thunder clouds passed over without spilling a drop of rain, Levi finished the plowing by early afternoon. He spent the rest of the day working on the machinery and at suppertime announced they could begin plowing the alfalfa fields bright and early the next morning.

“Good.” Cyrus nodded with satisfaction. “Then Peter can start first thing tomorrow.” As with all conversations that took place when Peter was present, Cyrus signed the words he spoke.

“That is a good idea,” Peter signed back. “Who knows what would happen if you let him try it!” He pointed to Levi and rolled his eyes emphatically.

Though Levi still had some difficulty understanding everything that was said, he was very aware of Peter’s slight and he grinned. “If you’re referring to my first attempts at plowing, maybe it was the fault of my teacher.”

It had been obvious from the beginning of Peter’s instruction that plowing was not Levi’s cup of tea. Peter found his struggles highly amusing, but Levi’s frustration mounted until Cyrus suggested he develop his own method instead of using Peter’s.

The solution had been as simple as running the reins between his thumb and forefinger instead of knotting them around his waist the way Peter did. With his huge hands Levi was able to control the team and the walking plow with ease.

“Actually,” Cyrus interrupted Peter’s teasing, “I have something else for you to do, Levi.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“There’s some business I’d like you to take care of for me if you will.” Cyrus glanced toward the stove where Nicki and Emily were dishing up supper. “I’ll explain later,” he said quietly.

Levi’s eyebrows drew together in surprise, for Cyrus had turned his face away from Peter, and his hands had remained still.

As soon as the meal was over Cyrus scooted back his chair. “Let’s go for a walk, Levi.” Once outside he seemed ill at ease as they walked slowly toward the barn. At last they reached their destination, and Cyrus leaned on the corral fence, gasping for air, as he tried to calm his tortured breathing.

“What was it you wanted me to do.” Levi prompted gently when the worst seemed to have passed.

If there was any way I could do this myself...” Cyrus shook his head as reached into his pocket and drew out a small leather pouch. He held it indecisively for a moment then thrust it at Levi.

Curiously, Levi opened the bag and spilled the contents into his hand. For several long seconds he stood there, staring at the gold nuggets that glittered in his palm.

“That’s eleven ounces of pure gold. It’s worth about two hundred dollars. I want you to ride over to South Pass City and cash it in for me.”

“South Pass City!” Levi was startled. “That’s a hundred miles from here. Why so far away?”

“I know, and it’s big enough strangers go pretty much unnoticed. Besides, it’s a gold mining town. They see dozens of nuggets every day, a few more won’t attract any attention.”

Levi gave him a considering look. “You seem to be going to a lot of trouble to make sure nobody knows about this.

Why?”

“It has to be kept secret.” Cyrus ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “All spring I’ve kept hoping I’d be able to go myself, but I can barely even walk to the corral anymore. I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t desperate.”

“But you haven’t told me anything, have you?” Levi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he rolled the nuggets around with his thumb. “You’re a good friend, Cyrus, but I’m an honest man. I won’t break the law even for you.”

“What makes you think I’m asking you to?”

“I’ve known for a long time there was something strange going on here. There’s just too much money for a simple homestead. Your house is made of logs instead of sod, you own fifty head of cattle, three saddle horses, and two damn good teams of work horses. Not to mention the expensive barbed wire fence you just put clear around your whole place. Homesteads, even very productive ones, don’t make that kind of money.” Levi poured the gold back into the pouch. “Herman Lowell thinks you might be rustling his cattle. I haven’t seen any sign of it, but now I’m not so sure.”

Cyrus gave a humorless laugh. “No, I’m not rustling his cattle, and he’s a fine one to talk about taking what belongs to another man.”

“Then where did this gold come from?”

The older man stared at him with bleak eyes for a long moment and then sighed. “It’s stolen.”

BLOG # 14
I have always been fascinated by work horses. It’s their size, I suppose, along with their amazing strength and stamina. I find them incredibly beautiful. The draft horses were phased out on the ranch before I was born, replaced by more efficient tractors when my father was still a youngster. There were still traces of them around; a barrel of gigantic horse shoes, a couple of old horse collars hanging on the wall, the leather straps that made up the traces, and even a set of blinders all resided in the saddle shop. There were even a few pieces of old horse drawn-equipment left. Several of these, like the bean planter and the hay mower, my father had converted to tractor drawn. But the finer points of farming with draft horses were a complete mystery to me.

When I started writing about the actual farming, I realized I didn’t know very much. So I went to someone who did, my father-in-law. Pete was a decade and a half older than my father and had grown up when tractors were still something of a curiosity. He’d started driving a team before he was a teenager and continued well into his adulthood. He knew horses the way my father knew tractors. I don’t know how long it took for him to teach me what I needed to know, but I do remember it wasn’t all in one sitting by any means. He was a wonderful teacher. Though we didn’t have any of the actual equipment on hand, Pete had a way of explaining that made me “see” what he was talking about. By the time he had finished with me I felt as though I could actually harness a horse if I had to, knew a lot about different methods people used for plowing and even had a working knowledge of how a hay buck worked. Though I rather doubt that I could really put any of it into practice, I felt like I could and it gave me enough confidence to write about farming with horses.

The “horse lore” may be barely noticeable to the reader because I had learned by then not to use everything I had discovered in research. The hour long rest for the horses at noon, the time it took to plow the field as well as Peter’s and Levi’s different methods of plowing are all there is to show in this chapter from all the time I spent with my father-in-law. There are, however, several other places in Willow Creek that I put Pete’s information to use and one nail-biter scene that came directly from one the stories Pete told me. I have to admit, a team and driver working in the field is something from the past that I would truly love to see.

Issue # 15
“Stolen!” Levi couldn’t believe his ears.

Cyrus kicked a small rock and raised regretful eyes to Levi. “I’ve never told anyone the story before, but I guess the time has finally come.” He gazed up at the moon. “We lived in Maryland when the War between the States began. For the first year my Pa tried hard not to take sides, so I was neither a Confederate sympathizer nor a Yankee.” He glanced at Levi. “ Hard to believe now, but it was hard for some folks to know which side was right in the beginning.”

“I know,” Levi said. “My Pa fought for the Union, but my uncle died wearing confederate uniform.”

Cyrus nodded. “I was young, not much more than a boy really, so and didn’t really understand what the whole thing was about. One night when I was alone, I found a Confederate soldier hiding in our woodshed. He’d been shot several times and was bleeding badly. I did what I could for him, but he was dying, and he knew it. He begged me to hide the strong box he had with him, and made me promise not to tell another living soul about it. He died before morning. When I broke the lock on the strongbox, I discovered a fortune in gold bullion, all in untraceable bars.”

“Where did it come from?” Levi asked.

“I never knew. He died without telling me. I had no idea what to do or where to turn, so I went to my father. Without telling him the exact circumstances, I asked him about keeping promises made to total strangers.” Cyrus ran his hand along the corral pole and sighed. “He said an honorable man’s word freely given, is forever binding, and can only be broken if that promise hurts someone else.”

“And being so young you took him literally.”

Cyrus nodded again. “I decided to keep silent about the gold until I could find the rightful owner. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the faintest idea who that was. The soldier might have stolen it from the Yankees for the Confederate cause, or maybe from the Confederacy for himself. I didn’t even know if he’d stolen it for sure, or if he was transporting it somewhere. Then my Pa joined the Union Army, and didn’t feel right about giving it to the South at all. When the war was over, there was no South.”
Cyrus raised his head. “I swear to you, I never intended to use it myself, but then my wife started having...problems. My business failed, and Peter, well, you can imagine how cruel people were to him. I thought if I could just get my family away from the city we’d be all right. So I ‘borrowed’ enough gold to get us a wagon and supplies. The children and I were happy here, but Samantha hated it. She started making impossible demands, hoping I’d pack up and go back East, I suppose. First it had to be a log house, then an addition for Peter so she didn’t have to live with him. The list was endless, and eventually she left anyway.” He coughed deeply and shook his head. “By then dipping into the gold had become a habit. I only use it to tide us over, but it seems like it’s always something.”

Levi was quiet for several long moments. Finally he spoke, “The way I see it, that soldier gave you the gold for safe keeping, and that’s just what you’ve done. After twenty- five years, I’d say it belongs to you by default. Any you’ve used was payment for taking care of it all this time.”

Cyrus smiled fleetingly. “I wish I could see it that way.”

“You said it was in bars,” Levi said. “These are nuggets.”

“Bars of pure gold are pretty conspicuous, especially out here. I melted them down and poured the liquid gold into cold, shallow water to make nuggets.” He shrugged. “Not so different from the way Mother Nature does it herself.”

Cyrus was silent for a moment then he looked up at the big man. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this for me. Consider it a request from a friend.”

“Two hundred dollars is a lot of money. Are you sure you trust me with it?”

“If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t have given you the gold. I hate to send you right now, but I need the money to pay for the alfalfa seed.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “That’s an awful lot of seed.”

“I know, but I want to make sure Nicki and Peter have enough on hand, in case...” he stopped but Levi knew he was thinking of funeral expenses.

Levi slipped the bag into his shirt pocket. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Be careful how you cash the gold in. Don’t give out more than one nugget at a time, and make sure you’re in a different crowd for each one. It’s not as difficult as it sounds. South Pass City is a big town,...it would take most of a day just to hit all the saloons.”

The irrepressible twinkle appeared in Levi’s eye. “My kind of town.”

“The only draw back is that it’s filled with suffragettes.” Cyrus grinned, momentarily distracted

“Ever since they got the right to vote, and that woman Esther Morris was appointed justice-of-the-peace, women seem to think they need to stick their noses into everything.”

“I remember my father saying once they got the vote they’d settle down and we’d never hear anything more from them.” Levi grinned. “That’s one mistake my stepmother will never let him forget.” Then his smile faded. “You haven’t told Nicki or Peter about the gold, have you?”

“No. I’ve wanted to, but the time just never seemed right. “

“They’ll have to know,” Levi said softly.

Cyrus’s frail body was wracked by a fit of coughing. “I know,” he said when he was finally able. “But they’re all I have. I don’t want them to know what I’ve done.”

“I think you’re underestimating them. They’re both intelligent adults. I doubt they’ll judge you very harshly for making their lives more comfortable, especially when you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Cyrus smiled. “Do you always look at the world so philosophically?”

“I try to.”

Silence fell between the two, each lost in his own thoughts. At last Cyrus broke the stillness, with an unexpected question. “What are your intentions concerning my daughter.”

“Intentions? I don’t have any intentions toward her at all.”

“Oh.” Cyrus was disappointed. “I was sure you had a certain amount of affection for her.”

“I do. I’m very fond of her; too fond to even consider what you’re thinking.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my daughter?”

“Nothing. If I were ten years younger, or if she was ten years older it might even work out.”

“What’s a few years?” Cyrus asked, unconvinced.

“Cyrus, I’m closer to your age than your daughter’s.” Levi ran his fingers through his hair tiredly.

“Nicki is a beautiful young woman. The last thing she needs is to be tied to a man old enough to be her father. “
“And just how old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”
Cyrus gave a wry chuckle. “Then unless you were out sowing your wild oats at a very young age, you couldn’t possibly be her father.” Then he sighed. “I wish I could see her settled before I die.”

“Don’t worry. One of these days, a young man will come along and sweep her off her feet.”

“I doubt it. In case you haven’t noticed, she hates men...or thinks she does. You’re the only male she hasn’t beat up, chased off, or spit on since she was twelve years old. That’s why I hoped...”

“She doesn’t see me as a man,” Levi cut in. “As far as Nicki is concerned I’m a very safe, old uncle. Besides, I don’t want a wife, and I think she knows that.”

Cyrus smiled ruefully. “Well, I had to try.”

Levi returned his smile, and silence fell between them again.

“You know, I’m not really afraid to die,” Cyrus said quietly after a few minutes. “In a way I think it will be a relief, but I am scared. Scared of what will happen to Nicki and Peter when I’m gone. I brought Emily out so they wouldn’t be alone, but she’s no match for Herman Lowell. If he decides he wants them off this place, he’ll do it. I don’t know how they’ll survive if that happens. It’s the only safe place they’ve ever known.”

“Cyrus,” Levi reached out and gripped the other man’s shoulder with one big hand. “I promise you I’ll stay with Nicki and Peter until they don’t need me any more, even if I have to fight them both to do it. You have my word on that. The word of a Cantrell.”

Cyrus studied his face intently for several minutes. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Never more so.”

Slowly, Cyrus smiled. “The word of an honorable man freely given....” he quoted softly. “Thank you.”




Levi left for South Pass City before first light the next morning. Peter noticed Levi’s bedroll was missing when he went to milk and reported his absence at the breakfast table.

“He’s gone?” Nicki exploded. “We’re right in the middle of spring plowing and he’s gone?”

“Now Nicki,” Cyrus began.

She slammed the plate of eggs on the table so hard the coffee cups jumped. “That low down, lying, no good, mangy coyote. How could he just up and leave? I told you not to hire him in the first place. I didn’t trust him, I never liked him, and he didn’t even bother to say good-bye.” There was a suspicious catch in her voice on the last word.

Cyrus smacked his fist on the table. “Nicki, for God’s sake!”

Nicki stopped her tirade. “What?”

“I asked him to go to Buffalo, and check the price of seed,” he said, naming the first place he could think of. “He’ll be back in five or six days.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. How could she explain the sudden, overwhelming pain that slashed through her when Peter said Levi was gone? Since when did his presence, or lack of it, mean so much to her? Such dependency was dangerous. How long could you expect a roving cowboy to be in one place? He’d promised to stay through the spring planting, but that would be done in a few weeks. Surely he’d leave for good soon after that.

It would be for the best, she told herself firmly, ignoring the tightness in her throat. It was only the shock of Peter’s announcement that had upset her. When the time came for Levi to really leave, she’d be prepared. It wouldn’t bother her in the slightest.

“Why Buffalo?” she asked, squelching her emotions. “That’s almost two hundred miles away.”

“I thought we might get our seed cheaper there.”

“It seems kind of sudden.” Her voice was still a little peevish.

“True, but then I only just thought of it last night. I didn’t expect him to leave until after breakfast, though.”

Emily set a plate of eggs on the table, and gently turned the conversation to other things. Nicki tried to relax. Actually, it would be kind of nice not to have Levi Cantrell looking over her shoulder all the time. Now things could be just like they were before he came. Six days her father had said. It seemed an eternity.

BLOG #15 The Gold

Ever since I started doing these Book BLOGS with Murphy’s Rainbow, I’ve been amazed by what I’ve discovered. I never realized where many of my ideas came from at the time I wrote the scenes, but when I stood back and took a good hard look, I could see exactly what my inspiration was. Of course, there are some I could trace back to specific bits of research or stories I was told. The most difficult to figure out had their roots in happenings in my own life. The gold was one thing I had no clue about its origins. Or at least I didn’t until I sat down to write this BLOG.

If you’ve read the Book Blogs for the other two books you will already know that the gold is a cleverly hidden story element that runs through all three books. (So cleverly hidden, in fact, that I’m not sure anyone has ever made the connections and realized it’s the same gold.) Though I don’t know where it came from, I do know that it began here in this chapter and the one before. It was probably one of those ideas that popped into my head and I just decided to go with it. The only connection I could find to my own life/knowledge is when Cyrus tells how he made the ingots into nuggets so I began to write about that.

As many of you already know, I am a teacher in my other life. In Wyoming the 4th grade social studies curriculum centers around Wyoming history, which, in retrospect, probably has a great deal to do with what I write. About twenty years ago, someone got the rather brilliant idea of doing a hands-on living history day for the 4th graders. We called it Silver Spring Gulch, and I was part of the gold mining center.

The first year we did Silver Springs Gulch, my partner and I knew nothing about gold mining or even what we were supposed to do. Enter Bru. My husband is the most creative human being I have ever known. Give him a problem and he’ll solve it, usually in a very unusual way. We were quite happy to pull him into our dilemma, hopeful that he would save the day. He did.

Bru decided that the best way to teach kids about gold mining was to let them do it. Since we had three small sluice boxes and couple of cradles (a type of sluice box so named because of its resemblance to a baby cradle) all we needed was the gold.

To understand his solution you first have to understand how placer mining works. First the miner scoops up a pan or shovelful of sand and some water. Then he applies a circular motion to the pan, or runs water down the sluice box. Because gold is very a heavy metal, it will sink to the bottom of the pan or catch on the bars in the bottom of the sluice box while, the sand is washed away. All we needed was something that would work the same way but was cheap. Bru’s solution? Lead. He had a supply for making bullets for his black powder rifle as well as the necessary utensils for melting it down. So he began to experiment.

It took awhile to figure out how to make nuggets but it turned out to be pretty simple in the end. If you pour molten lead into about 1/2 an inch of water, it forms into a perfect nugget shape. A visit to a local tire shop netted two coffee cans full of tire weights donated to the school. An afternoon outside on the bar-b-cue and a couple of cans of gold spray paint later, we were in business. Our nuggets looked and worked like the real thing. There were only two problems with our “gold”. First of all the nuggets were so cool that a lot of them managed to disappear into the pockets of the many ten-year olds that came through our center. The other problem was that the paint tended to wear off pretty fast.

We solved the first problem by dividing the kids into two groups and having a contest to see how much gold they could gather in ten minutes of panning and sluicing. The second problem we took care of by reseeding our “claim” with fresh gold every after three or four groups and giving the “worn out “nuggets a fresh coat of paint. We’d still lose some and had to make more gold every few years, but the gold mining center was always one of the favorites at Silver Springs Gulch.

Though I’m not positive about the exact time-frame, I’m pretty sure that I wrote this particular piece about the same time as the original Silver Springs Gulch was happening. I still find it amazing that my brain can put two seemingly unrelated bits of information together and come up with a piece of the story without my conscious mind even being aware of what is going on. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened here. Once again I’m amazed to discover the source of my inspiration. Who knew that making fake gold on a back yard Bar-B-Cue would provide me with an inspiration that would figure in three books!

Issue #16
‘Good maybe it will rain,’ Nicki thought eyeing the clouds on the far horizon as she drove into town. Rain would fit her black mood perfectly. For the last five days she’d been grouchy and depressed. She told herself repeatedly that it was just a coincidence it began the day Levi left.

Nicki entered the store still gloomy but hoping Mrs. Adam’s friendly chatter would help.

“Nicki! Oh good, come give me your opinion.”

Nicki’s heart sank at the sound of Amanda Lowell’s lilting voice. She wasn’t in the mood to play one of Amanda’s silly games. Taking in Charles Laughton’s bored expression as he stood next to Amanda, Nicki had a feeling she wasn’t going to enjoy this any more than he was. “What is it, Amanda?” she asked, walking over to the counter.

“I just found the most divine fabric hidden away in Mrs. Adam’s store room, but now I don’t know whether to buy lace or this scrumptious ribbon to go with it. What do you think?” Amanda held up the dusky pink silk and a length of rose colored ribbon expectantly.

“How the devil would I know?”

“Oh, Nicki.” Amanda smiled. “Don’t be so difficult. All you have to do is tell me which one you’d choose.”

“I wouldn’t bother with either one myself. I don’t spend much time worrying about such silliness.”

“That’s certainly obvious,” Amanda’s companion muttered just loud enough for Nicki to hear.

“Don’t be rude, Charles,” Amanda chided him. “Nicki really doesn’t have any use for pretty dresses you know.” She turned back to Nicki. “Charles has spent his entire life in England and Europe. He’s never met anyone like you before.”

All at once Nicki felt clumsy and unattractive. “I’ve never met anyone like him either,” she mumbled with ill humor as she walked to the other end of the counter to wait for Mrs. Adams. What did she care that Amanda’s snooty beau thought she was ugly? She’d be happy if all men did. Except for Levi Cantrell. The thought flitted through her mind and she pushed it away in irritation.

Even so, she found herself watching a bit wistfully as Mrs. Adams cut the fabric. Nicki hadn’t had a dress for many years. Of course Amanda was right, there wasn’t much use for one in Nicki’s life. Still, it might be nice... She let the thought trail away as Mrs. Adams left Amanda to her decision and came to wait on Nicki. Cyrus’s order was filled in a short time, and Nicki turned to go, disappointed that the older woman wasn’t free for a chat.

“Oh Nicki, I clean forgot,” Mrs. Adams said in her fluttery voice. “There’s a letter for your aunt.”

Nicki took the envelope and looked at it curiously before slipping it into her pocket. Probably another letter from her cousin Liana. She felt another flicker of envy as she thought of the girl three years younger than herself. To be able to read and write well enough to send letters was a secret dream Nicki had cherished for years.

Samantha Chandler had started to teach her daughter to read but had never progressed beyond the rudiments before other things distracted her. There had never been time after that, and Nicki had grown up ignorant of the skill.

Nicki placed her purchases in the back of the wagon and climbed up into the seat. Aunt Emily would probably be more than willing to teach her how to read, but Nicki balked at having to admit she couldn’t. She wasn’t about to lay her failings out for someone else to see. Besides, she had no more need of reading and writing than she did a new dress.

The depressing thought slid away as the roll of distant thunder caught her attention. She looked at the storm clouds building over the horizon again.

If only they brought rain this time. With very little snowfall and no spring rains there hadn’t been enough water to bring the new grass. Last year’s was tall and abundant, but there was wasn’t much nutrition left in the dried yellow stalks.

By the time she reached home, the storm was upon her. Violent gusts of wind blew dirt into her eyes and drove against the horse and wagon with frightening intensity. She drove to the barn, unhitched the team and led them into the safety of the building.

Removing the harnesses from the skittish horses proved to be far more difficult than usual. Just as she was about to scream in frustration, Peter appeared. With his familiar, gentle touch, the horses calmed and were soon safe in their stalls.

Peering out into the driving wind, Nicki pulled her coat closer around her. At her side Peter indicated they should go to the house, but Nicki wasn’t so sure. Dirt and bits of tumbleweed flew by, driven into the air with terrifying force. She hesitated while Peter pulled his collar up and headed out into the storm.

The sound of not so distant thunder decided the matter for Nicki. With the lightning getting closer by the minute, the house seemed a much better place to be. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her hat down tightly on her head and followed Peter.

Nicki gasped as she came around the side of the barn and the wind struck her full force. Fighting to stay on her feet, she made her way across the barnyard. Just as her toe touched the porch step she belatedly remembered the supplies were still in the back of the wagon. With a curse under her breath, she started to turn back.

Before she could complete the movement, a particularly strong gust of wind shrieked past. Nicki watched in astonishment as a section of the barn roof tore loose and fell to the ground. Suddenly, the chance of rain ruining the flour wasn’t important anymore. White faced, Nicki scuttled into the safety of the house.

“We just lost part of the barn roof,” she said breathlessly, pushing the door shut behind her.

“We heard the crash.” Concern etched deep grooves around Cyrus’s eyes and mouth. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t anywhere near it.” Nicki glanced toward the window where Emily and Peter were watching the storm with fascinated horror. “Thanks to Peter.”

“We saw you drive by, and he thought you might need help with the horses.”

“Well, he was right.” Nicki shrugged out of her coat. “I’ve never seen anything like this storm before.”

“Neither have I.” Cyrus joined the other two at the window. “Just look at that lightning.”

It snaked out of the heavens, jagged knives cutting the air, sometimes four or five at a time. The thunder became a continuous roll, with increasingly loud crashes resounding after each bolt of lightning. Then there was a white hot flash and a boom so loud it seemed to shake the house.

“Look!” Emily gasped, pointing to one of the few cottonwood trees growing along Willow Creek. The lightning had neatly split the trunk, laying one half over. The four at the window stared at the destruction, aghast at how close the lightning had come to the house.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the storm was gone. The wind dwindled down to a gentle breeze and the sun broke through the black clouds overhead. They could hear the thunder to the east as the clouds moved on.

“All that and not one drop of rain.” Nicki muttered in disgust, turning away. “Guess I’ll go check the horses and see how bad the barn is.”

Halfway to the barn, Peter caught up with her. With a smile she looked up at him. “Thanks for coming out in the storm to help me, Peter.”

Peter shrugged. “You’d have done the same for me,” he signed.

“You think so?” she asked, giving his shoulder a playful punch.

With a grin, he reached over and ruffled her dark curls.

“Well,” she said, surveying the section of the roof that lay on the ground. “I guess it could be worse.”

Peter nodded. “You’re right,” he said with a few quick gestures. “The wind could have blown the shingles off too.”

The words and the bland look that went with them made Nicki laugh in spite of herself.
“I wasn’t talking about that and you know it. I meant...” She broke off and followed Peter’s suddenly intent gaze. Coming up the road at a fast trot was a riderless horse.

Nicki felt a rush of fear as she recognized Lady and the saddle on her back. There was no mistaking the big bay mare and the L.C. tooled into the leather of the saddlebags. Something had happened to Levi.

BLOG # 16

Though it has been about twenty years since I wrote this piece, I remember very well where my inspiration came from. Unlike many teachers, I’ve never really minded recess and bus duties. I’ve always enjoyed interacting with the students in a more relaxed environment almost as much as I enjoy walking around in the fresh air. Granted there are days when the weather’s not particularly nice, or when the students are unruly and I feel as though I run from one emergency to another. Still, it’s usually a rather pleasant part of the day- usually.

One late spring afternoon in 1988 the sky suddenly began to darken about 2:30 in the afternoon. I had bus duty that afternoon and wasn’t particularly looking forward to it but wasn’t unduly worried either. By the time school let out at 3:10, though, the wind was blowing around the school like a banshee on steroids. Though the weather was pretty ugly by that time, the west wing of the school sheltered the students from the worst of it. Besides, wind storms with gusts up to 40 or 50 miles an hour aren’t all that uncommon in Wyoming. It never even occurred to us that it might not be safe for them to form their bus lines.

About the time the sidewalk was completely filled with kids of all sizes, the lightning started. I have never seen it so violent nor so close together. It seemed like it was striking every couple of minutes, and the thunder was right on top of us. Now I’ve lived in Wyoming all my life and am pretty used to the violence of our storms, but that lightning scared the be-jeepers out of me. I’d never seen anything like it and was seriously concerned about somebody being hit. All the stories I’d heard about sheepherders and cowboys being struck by lightning up in the mountains kept running through my head and I knew I needed to get those kids back inside.

Imagine a couple of hundred kids ranging in age from five to eleven, all running around hyper and scared. Now imagine trying to round them up and head them all back into a school building they had just left for the day. It was kind of like herding ants! I don’t know how long it really took, probably not more than five minutes or so, but it seemed like a lot longer. I do know the buses hadn’t even arrived yet. At any rate we finally got them back into the lobby where they were all crowed together with half a dozen teachers who were trying to sort them into groups and calm them down. Then, as suddenly as it hit, it was over. The clouds moved on, the wind died down, the sun popped out, and all without a drop of rain. It was bizarre.

There is a postscript to this story. If you are over the age of thirty you have probably already heard about this storm or at least the aftermath of it. It was part of a massive storm cell that originated somewhere to the west of us and moved rapidly east. It crossed two mountain ranges and a vast stretch of prairie before it turned into a thunderstorm and finally released torrents of rain. That storm caused millions of dollars of damage to a national treasure. The devastation it caused will not reversed in my lifetime or even in that of my children’s. No, it wasn’t the wind that wrecked such havoc, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it spanned a tornado or two on the eastern side of the state. Experts from the national forest service think there may have been a many as fifteen hundred lightning strikes as that storm crossed the mountains to the west. Several hundred of them found targets in the drought- ridden northwest corner of the state and set a virgin forest ablaze.

You see, 1988 was the year Yellowstone Park burned. From May until October the fires raged. Firefighters reported hundred foot walls of flame that devoured everything in their path. At one point the fire actually jumped Yellowstone Canyon, a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. Somewhere between one third and one half of the burnable forest went up in smoke. My husband, a wild land firefighter, spent all but about seven days of that summer fighting forest fires in the park and the surrounding area. I cried like a baby when we drove through the park the following spring. I had been to the park at least twice a year since I was a baby. It was like seeing an old friend horribly scarred by a tragic accident. Even now, nearly twenty years later, the signs of the fire are unmistakable.

Hundreds of thousands of visitors to Yellowstone Park have seen the damage done by the lightning from that storm in May of 1988. There are, however, few who experienced the actual storm. I was one, and now, through the magic of the internet and the written word, so are you!

Issue # 17 Peter caught hold of the bridle and was attempting to calm the frightened animal. Eyes wide and breath coming in short hard gasps, the horse tried to jerk its head free, but Peter held firm.

By the time Peter had calmed Lady and put her away, Nicki was waiting for him with both of their horses saddled.

“I’m going with you,” she said, challenging him to disagree.

Peter took one look at the belligerent set of her jaw and sighed. With the air of a man resigned to his fate, he swung into his saddle.

Too worried about Levi to realize Peter had given in too easily, Nicki wasn’t even suspicious when he indicated she should get Levi’s rifle. She was in the process of attaching the scabbard to her saddle before she realized she’d been duped. The minute he saw she was entangled in her task he pointed toward the west.

“We’re going west?” Nicki asked in surprise. “But why? Buffalo is east of here.”

Peter shook his head, his fingers flying in explanation. “No, you are going west; I am going east. We need to split up in case Levi circled around and stopped in town on his way home.” Peter glanced at the sun. “I don’t think he is too far away or the horse wouldn’t have come here. We still have a long time before dark. Be sure to tell Cyrus what we are doing before you leave.” With that he turned away, completely ignoring Nicki’s futile attempts to get his attention.

Still fumbling with the stiff leather bindings, Nicki watched in helpless anger as he rode away. “I hate it when you do that!” she yelled after him though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She considered following him, but realized there was a slight chance that Levi might have done as Peter suggested.

Nicki tried not to contemplate what could have happened to Levi, but worry curled around the edges of her anger at Peter. Levi Cantrell didn’t just fall off his horse; he rode far too well for that. Someone, or something had separated horse and rider.

All sorts of disasters flashed through her mind, each more ominous than the last. She saw visions of him with a broken leg, then flashes of him burned like the cow she had once seen struck by lightning, and most frightening of all, the image of Buck and Shorty ambushing him.

Just as she had an unsuspecting Levi toppling from his horse, his body riddled by bullets, a movement to the northwest caught her eye. With a surge of relief, Nicki saw it was a man on foot. Though he was quite a distance away, she was sure it was Levi. Only he would be wearing that obnoxious old buffalo coat that made him resemble a bear as much as a human.

What in the world was he doing out here anyway? Cyrus said he’d gone east to Buffalo and that lay almost two hundred miles in the opposite direction. Only Nowood lay to the west for many miles. Jackson Hole was nearly two hundred miles beyond that, and it was over a hundred miles southwest to South Pass City. For the life of her she couldn’t think of any reason Levi would have gone either place.

Perversely, now that she knew he was all right, her anger flared. Here she’d been imagining all kinds of terrible things, scared half to death, when all the while he’d been taking a leisurely stroll across the prairie.

By the time she reached him, she had managed to dredge up a rather respectable rage, fed by her suspicions and a deeper emotion she refused name. “Well, well, well, imagine meeting you way out here,” she said sarcastically.

Levi just grinned. “I’m glad to see you too. Lady must have found her way home?”

“Yes, and Peter was a tiny bit concerned when she showed up minus her rider.” Nicki arched her eyebrows. “What happened?”
“Lady took exception to one very loud crash of thunder, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the ground.”

I see you didn’t get the seed.”

“What seed?”

“The seed Papa sent you to Buffalo to buy.”

“Oh, that seed. No, I didn’t get it.”

“Why not?” Nicki asked indignantly.

Levi sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s between your father and me.”

“Oh is that so?” Nicki drew herself up to her full height. “I’ll have you know Papa’s business is also my business.”

“Not this time it isn’t.” He took off his hat and ran tired fingers through his hair. Damn Cyrus for not telling his daughter the truth. “I’m sorry, Nicki,” he said softly.

“You’d be even sorrier if I just turned my horse around and rode off. I’d do it too, if there weren’t another storm coming in.”

“Another storm?” Levi turned in surprise. Somehow the huge grayish-white clouds billowing into the air didn’t look like thunderheads. Levi studied them for a moment trying to trap the elusive memory niggling at the back of his mind. Suddenly, it burst into full bloom. “Son of a...Get this horse moving,” he yelled as he grabbed hold of the saddle horn and swung up behind a very startled Nicki.

“What...”

“The lightning started a god damned prairie fire!”

Nicki eyes widened, and her face drained. “Which way?”

“Toward the creek.” Willow Creek was almost two miles away, but Levi knew they couldn’t possibly out-run the fire. A strong wind was blowing northeast driving the flames before it, so they’d be angling away from the main body of the blaze. If they were very, very lucky they might get beyond the eastern edge of the fire before it reached them. If not, their only chance lay in finding protection from the flames and smoke. The creek was small, but it had high banks.
It might be enough.

Carrying both Nicki and a man the size of Levi at a high lope would be a severe strain on any horse. Long past her prime, Lollipop was lathered and breathing hard within a very few minutes, but the smell of the fire drove her on.

The trio had raced about three quarters of a mile when disaster struck. Frightened and worried about Lollipop’s growing exhaustion, Nicki still didn’t sense the danger until it was too late. One minute she was gripping the saddle with her knees, and the next she was flying through the air. There was a jarring impact...then everything went black.

BLOG # 17

I wrote this chapter mostly with maps. I distinctly remember sitting at the kitchen table measuring distances from the fictitious Nowood to South Pass City, Jackson, Buffalo and half a dozen other places. Then I had to figure out how long it would take to get to South Pass City on horseback, traveling an average of thirty miles a day, trade in the gold and then travel back to Nowood. Once I had that figure, which I have since forgotten, I had to match other locals trying to figure out where Cyrus would have told Nicki he had sent Levi. As I recall I went back and rewrote parts of the previous chapter as well.

Once I knew where everything was and how long it would take to get from one place to another, I had to figure out the fire and how Nicki and Levi were going to escape it. I’m not much of an artist, stick figures are challenging for me, and I’ve never had anything at all to do with choreography. So, I was somewhat lacking in the necessary skills for the task. Still, I was game to try and knew nobody was going to ever see them anyway. That in itself gave me the courage to start.

First I drew a map of the homestead. Then another of the homestead in relation to the Bar X and to Nowood. Next I did a sort of bird’s-eye-view of the whole area including the roads to South Pass and to Buffalo. For that I had to go to the library and research the roads that were in use during the 1880’s. What I found rather surprised me. There were several main thoroughfares that are no longer in use, or have been downgraded to country roads. For instance the famous Oregon trail is just a dirt road in many places as is a goodly portion of the Bozeman Trail and the Cheyenne-Deadwood stage route. Just as surprising though, is how many of our modern highways actually follow old roads. The trip up South Pass, however turned out to be completely different than the path the highway follows today. I wound up having to adjust my time table to compensate.

I meticulously traced Levi’s route from South Pass back to the homestead and Nicki’s trail out to find him. I even had Peter’s course mapped out. Then I figured out where the fire would come from, given the storm, which way it would travel and where Nicki and Levi could seek shelter. That’s when I discovered I had written myself into a corner. There was simply no way I could get them to safety on a horse as old as Lollipop. I thought I was going to have to go back and redo it all, until it dawned on me that Levi would be similarly frantic to find a way out of the situation. I decided to keep writing and see what happened. I was rather surprised at the solution- which you will see in the next issue.

As I read back through the chapter today, I was astonished to see how little of all my map-drawing-choreography actually made it into the book. In reality, I don’t suppose I needed to do it at all, and yet the fact that I knew exactly how it worked added directly to the solution and made this part more exciting than it otherwise would have been. As usual, when I over-research and wind up with considerably more information than I need, I found a place to use it. In this case it was the maps. I pinned them up on the wall and used them to write the rest of the book. If you pay attention, you’ll no doubt find places where I was referring to my maps.

Issue # 18
“Nicki....”

At first Nicki was aware only of the pain in her head and a deep voice calling her name. Gingerly she opened her eyes and found herself staring up into the familiar face of Levi Cantrell.

Levi sighed with relief. “Thank God. Are you all right?”

“I...I think so. My head hurts, and my leg. What happened?”

“Lollipop stepped in a prairie dog hole. You landed on your head and knocked yourself cold.”

Nicki struggled to sit up. “Oh no, Lollipop...”

“She broke her leg....I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s impossible. She’d be in pain. I’d hear...” Her eyes widening with dawning horror, Nicki surged to her feet, the pain in her leg forgotten. She pulled away to stare at the carnage. Lollipop lay on her side, the blood from a single bullet hole in her head soaking into the ground.

“Oh, no,” Nicki sobbed, stumbling toward her long time friend.

Levi stopped her with a gentle hand. “You can’t help her now, Nicki. She’s gone.”

Nicki whirled on him. “You killed Lollipop!” She pounded her fists against his chest. “You shot her like she was nothing more than a sick cow. I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you!”

Levi gripped her upper arms and shook her. “Nicki, we don’t have time for this right now. That fire is going to be here any minute.

She had momentarily forgotten the danger that had sent them flying across the prairie. Now she stopped struggling in his grip and looked to the southwest. A line of smoke and flames raced toward them impossibly fast. The air was already thick with smoke and a strange black dust. For the first time she noticed the surging mass of animal life streaming past them. Antelope, coyotes, rabbits, insects of every description, even a rattlesnake all trying to outrun the fire, but there was no escape.

Nicki’s stomach clenched in terror. “We’re going to die aren’t we?” She was surprised how unemotional her voice sounded. Inside, she was a screaming mass of nerves.

“Maybe not.”

Swallowing past a lump of fear, Nicki looked up at Levi scornfully. “Look, Cantrell, I’m not stupid. Any idiot can see that fire’s moving too fast for us to get away.”

“And that’s the very thing that could save us,” Levi said, pulling her toward the dead horse. “As hard as that wind is driving it, that fire won’t stay in one place very long. With a little protection we might manage.”

“I don’t unders... Levi!” Before she knew what was happening, Nicki found herself lying face down on the ground between Lollipop’s outstretched legs. Her indignant cry might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the attention Levi paid to it. In fact, the protest had barely cleared her lips when he joined her on the ground, draping his large body over her much smaller one.

“What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing, Cantrell?” she hissed, trying to wiggle out from under him.

“An old cowboy once told me he’d survived a fire like this by laying low. It jumped right over him.” He raised his voice over the roar of the fire that was growing louder by the second.

“You think that might happen to us?”

“I don’t know. Charlie Hobbs is a good one for telling tall tales, but it’s the only chance we’ve got. Whatever happens, keep your head and stay put. It’s natural to panic, but don’t let yourself.”

“I’m not scared,” she said.

“Good.” Levi was almost shouting as he hooked his arm around her squirming body and pulled her back, “because I sure as hell am.”

She stopped her writhing and twisted around to look at him. “You are?”

For once the blue gray eyes were deadly serious. “Terrified.” He tucked her more securely beneath him. “I’d be stupid not to be.” Levi adjusted their positions so that Nicki was forced to face the ground again. He shifted slightly and spoke into her ear. “There’s a leather pouch in my pocket that belongs to your Pa. See that he gets it, will you?”

“Give it to him yourself,” she yelled, frightened by the unspoken possibility that one or both of them might die. “It’s probably none of my business, just like the seed wasn’t.”

Levi said nothing. With any luck his body would prove to be enough of a shield to protect Nicki from the flames. Her greatest danger was from suffocation. Even now the smoke surrounding them was so thick it seemed to suck the oxygen from the air. Breathing was fast becoming torturous.

Nicki raised her head and peered at the fire that was now within fifty feet of their insignificant barrier. It would be upon them within seconds.

“Get your head down!” Levi yelled, forcing her head down as he spoke.

For an instant Nicki felt a light pressure on the back of her head, almost like a kiss. It was forgotten in a moment as her whole world became a hissing, crackling roar. Somehow, the smells were worse than the sounds. Burning sagebrush, blood, sweat, singing hair and a dozen other unpleasant odors mixed together in a nauseating stench that threatened to choke her.

Sweeping relentlessly forward, the blaze spared nothing in its path. Hot and deadly, it roared over them like a run-away locomotive. Nicki bit back a scream as she felt the heat branding her skin. Panic surged through her like water through a broken dam, and she struggled to free herself. Levi’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her immobile while she fought him with every bit of strength she had. Suddenly, the breath was crushed from her lungs as Levi’s full weight pressed her to the ground.

“Damn it, stay still!” he growled.

With over two hundred pounds of determined cowboy on top of her, Nicki didn’t have much choice. She felt Levi’s heart pounding against her back, and heard his ragged breathing. It was unnerving to realize he was just as scared as she was.

Minutes passed, hours, a lifetime, then suddenly it was over.

Blog # 18

I’ve always said my in-laws were the best wedding present I received. I dearly love Bru’s parents, and have since the beginning. But I really connected with his grandfather. Grand Dad was well into his eighties when I met him. I suspect our introduction was something of a test for me because my husband and his grandfather were very close. We all went out for pizza one night not long after Bru and I started dating. The evening was a total success. Grand Dad and I were vastly pleased with each other and Bru was grinning from ear to ear.

He fit very easily into my life. I suspect part of that was because I missed my own grandfather, who died when I was eighteen. Though the two men were very different, they filled the same niche. Grand Dad and I shared many interests and spent a great deal of time talking. He often reminisced about things that had happened when he was growing up in Colorado. One of those stories inspired this piece of Willow Creek

Due to his father’s untimely death, Grand Dad was forced to go to work to support his family in his early teens. Only a few occupations were open to someone so young, and nearly all were with local farmers. He took whatever job came his way and gave an honest day’s work to anyone who hired him. Late one afternoon, when he was about sixteen he took a shortcut home from work and cut across a large open area with thigh-high dry grass. He was just beginning to wonder if the distance he saved was worth the extra effort of walking through the tall grass when he found himself facing a large grass fire. It didn’t take him long to realize there was no way to go around it. He started to run.

A prairie fire is nothing to mess with. They move incredibly fast, especially driven by a strong Wyoming wind. A pronghorn antelope might be able to outrun one but a human certainly couldn’t. There are stories of people who have survived but there are many more of people who didn’t. Grand Dad was fully aware that his chances were not good, and the fire was going to overtake him.

Just when he was about at the end of his endurance, he tripped over a small hollow in the ground. He had heard somewhere that it was possible to survive a prairie fire if you found protection. The hollow wasn’t much more than a small indentation in the earth, but it was the only chance he had. With the fire nearly at his heels, he flung himself down in the shallow depression and ducked his head.

Grand Dad said all he could think of was how hard it was going to be for his mother to raise his two little brothers without him. He had just gotten to the part where they were going to carry in his lifeless body, when the fire roared over him like a freight train. Then, quite suddenly it was all over. The fire had gone over him so fast that other than a few burns on his shirt and hands, he was completely unscathed. Personally, I’m more than willing to accept Grand Dad’s word for it. Like tornadoes and stampedes, a prairie fire is something I have no desire to experience first- hand!

Previously in Willow Creek: Nicki and Levi are attempting to escape a prairie fire when Lollipop steps in a prairie dog hole and Nicki is knocked unconscious. When she comes to, she discovers her beloved horse has broken a leg and Levi has already shot her. Nicki doesn’t even have time to grieve as the fire bears down on them and they take refuge behind the dead horse. . Their world becomes a hissing, crackling, roar as the fire sweeps over them.

Minutes pass, hours, a lifetime, then suddenly it’s over.

Issue # 19

Minutes passed, hours, a lifetime, then suddenly it was over.

They both lay where they were for several seconds. Then Levi rolled away. “Nicki?” he asked, touching her cheek.

Disoriented and confused, she blinked at him. “Are we dead?”

“No.” Propping himself up on an elbow, he surveyed the blackened landscape. “At least, I don’t think we are.” The fire was already a hundred feet beyond them, leaving a smoking ruin behind as it rushed on. Levi shook his head in disbelief. “And I always thought it was just one of Charlie’s stories.”

“What?” Nicki struggled to sit up. “You mean you lied to me?”

“Not exactly. I thought old Charlie might have exaggerated a bit, but I figured you’d be safe enough.” He removed his hat and contemplated a large smoldering hole.

“Strange, I knew some cinders landed on my back, but I didn’t even feel that one.”

Nicki looked at him and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, it smells like you branded your coat.”

“Singed buffalo hair.” Well aware that most of the burnt hair smell was coming from the dead horse, he touched a blackened spot on his sleeve “Dang! This was a good coat too.”

“Small loss,” Nicki muttered. “It’s the ugliest thing I ever saw.”

Levi grinned slightly as he stood up and shrugged out of the heavy garment. “I’ll admit it’s not real pretty, but I’m sure glad I had it on today.”

“I guess so, but... Levi, your leg!” Nicki gasped in dismay as she stared at the blood oozing down his reddened pants leg from a gash at the top of his thigh. “What happened?”

Levi looked at the wound his long coat had covered. “I must have cut it on something when we hit the ground. It looks a lot worse than it is.”

The words jolted Nicki back to reality. During the terror filled-minutes of the fire, her benumbed mind had ceased to think of anything but survival. It was as though a fog had insulated her brain against reality. Now with a flood of remorse and guilt, she reached out to rub the neck of her horse. “Poor Lollipop. She...she was a good horse.”

“I know, “Levi murmured, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, “And I’m sorry.”

Swallowing past the knot in her throat, Nicki dipped her head to hide sudden tears. “Why didn’t you wait until I woke up? I should have been the one to decide.”

Levi sighed. “I guess it comes from working with horses most of my life. When I realized her leg was broken, I put her out of her misery as soon as I could.” He gently brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “Nicki, she was in pain. I couldn’t let her suffer.

“But you should have let me do it. You think just because I’m a woman I couldn’t do what needed to be done, but I could’ve. She was my horse, and I was responsible for her. It was my job to sh...shoot her, and ...and.” To her own dismay, she burst into a flood of unwelcome tears.

With sympathetic grimace, Levi pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “It wasn’t necessarily your job, Nicki,” he murmured, stroking the back of her head with one large callused palm. As Nicki gave way to her grief, he held her, rocking her in his strong embrace, giving the only comfort he could.

At last the storm was over, and his deep voice intermingled with the last hiccuping sobs. “Years ago I had a horse I called Frog. He was the first horse I ever trained, and he meant more to me than anything else in the world. When I was about eighteen he caught the sleeping sickness and had to be destroyed. Pa offered to do it, but I turned him down. I sort of figured if I our positions were reversed, old Frog would have done the same for me.”

With one finger under Nicki’s chin, he tipped her face up and stared down into her tear drenched eyes. “That was a long ago, but I still think of old Frog when ever I have to shoot a horse. At the time I thought it was the right thing to do, but now I almost wish I’d let Pa be the one to pull the trigger.”

She stared back for a full minute then shook her head. “That’s a bare-faced lie. You felt sorry for me so you made up a stupid story to make me feel better! If it had been Peter’s horse or even your little brother’s you wouldn’t have said a word, would you?”

A wry expression crossed Levi’s face as he thought of the thirty-year old ‘little brother’ who stood six foot four in his stocking feet. “Probably not, but—”

“Why can’t you just treat me like you would Peter?”

“Because Peter is usually more reasonable than you are!” Levi snapped, then sighed in exasperation. “Sometimes you make me want to—”

“What? Spank me?”

“No, that isn’t what I was going to say, but maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Go right ahead and try it,” Nicki taunted. “That is if you think you’re man enough to do it.”

“It doesn’t take much of a man to spank a child,” Levi replied, irritated that she thought he’d even consider such a thing. “Especially one who’s having a tantrum. Why don’t you try acting like a woman instead of a spoiled little girl? Maybe then people will start treating you like an adult.”

Nicki’s eyes flashed in anger. “And how does the great Levi Cantrell treat an adult? With threats?”

Levi would always wonder what madness drove him that day. One moment he was arguing with the spitting wildcat in his arms, the next he was kissing her with an abandon he hadn’t known he possessed. With sudden clarity, he knew the twelve years difference in their ages didn’t matter, nor the fact that she was the most aggravating woman he’d ever met. He only knew that his attempts to destroy the feelings he had for her had been unsuccessful. Somehow, against his better
judgment, he’d fallen in love.

The unexpected kiss caught Nicki completely off guard. Having never experienced a man’s kiss before, her body responded in ways she hadn’t even imagined. Unfamiliar feelings washed over her in waves, weakening her knees and making her heart pound. Instinctively, her arms crept around Levi’s waist, and she melted into his embrace. She gave into the wildly exciting sensations thundering through her and returned his kiss fervently.

Levi broke it off at last. Gently stroking her cheek with his thumb, he smiled down at her. “Sweet little Nicki,” he whispered. But when he leaned forward to kiss her forehead his lips met thin air.

Aghast at how easily she’d fallen into his arms and how readily her own body had betrayed her, Nicki pulled away in alarm. ‘You enjoyed that kiss,’ an insidious little voice whispered inside her. ‘You’re just like your mother.’

“Don’t sweet little Nicki me, you...you bushwhacker!” Nicki violently rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand as she struggled out of his arms.

Levi released her and stepped back in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” she repeated incredulously. “First you shoot my horse, then you manhandle me and now you want to know what’s wrong?”

“It was just a kiss, Nicki.”

“Maybe to you, but to me it was...it was horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Levi said, laying his hand on her arm in a apologetic gesture.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, striking out with a small but deadly fist.

Levi grunted in agony as the well-aimed punch connected with his mid-section, and drove the air from his lungs.

As she stood angrily rubbing her stinging knuckles, watching Levi’s face go from white to red, Nicki unexpectedly felt a twinge of remorse. Perhaps she’d over-reacted. He probably hadn’t intended to kiss her again anyway. She was starting to toy with the idea of making an apology when his eyes focused on her with an accusing glare.

“Jesus, Nicki, I said I was sorry,” he rasped out, still trying to catch his breath.

“You shouldn’t have grabbed me. I don’t like to be touched.”

“I’ll try remember that.”

“I guess I didn’t have to hit you quite so hard,” Nicki admitted.

Levi rubbed his stomach. “You didn’t have to hit me at all.”

“Well, you started it. I don’t know what you had to do a damn fool thing like that for anyway.”

Staring at her soot streaked face, Levi felt a curious sensation in his chest. He could plainly see every place he had touched her, the dark smudges poignant reminders of the kiss they’d shared. Could she really have felt nothing?

“Sometimes a man does stupid things when he has a close brush with death,” he said sharply. “Look, let’s just forget it happened and head for home.”

While Levi bent stiffly to pick up his rifle and unwind the canteen from the saddle horn, Nicki said one last good- bye to Lollipop. Then she stood and resolutely turned toward the homestead. Though there was a lump in her throat, she never once looked back as they began the long difficult trek home.

BLOG # 19 The Dead Horse

For the most part Abigail, my editor at Harper Collins, and I understood each other pretty well in spite of a large generation gap and an even larger cultural gap. There were times when it was pretty obvious we were from completely different backgrounds.

More than once I’d had trouble explaining things to Abigail that seemed to me should have been obvious. The dead horse was one of them.

One Friday afternoon I came home from work to find a message from Abigail on my answering machine. She said there were several contract matters we needed to discuss, and then added, as an afterthought, that there was a problem with the prairie fire that we were going to have to work out. As I mentioned before, I spent a great deal of time choreographing every part of the prairie fire. So it came as quite a surprise that Abigail found a glaring fault in it. I pondered the question all weekend with no revelations. I’ll admit I was a little worried and a lot curious when I called her at 6:00 A.M. (Because of the time difference that was the only time we could talk to each other. She was just getting to the office, and I had half an hour or so before I had to leave for work.) Our business took little time and we still have a few minutes left to discover what was wrong with this scene.

“Well,” she said. “You have them getting up and walking home after the fire.’

“Yeah, so?”

“So they didn’t bury the horse!”

I’m pretty sure I burst out laughing. Then I realized I was going to have to make her understand somehow. “First of all,” I said, “horses are rather large animals so it would have take them a looong time to dig the hole even if they’d had shovels, which they didn’t. Once they had the hole dug they had no way of getting the horse moved into the grave. It would have weighed far too much for the two of them to manage.

“But what about the horse?” she said. “They can’t just leave it lying there!”

That’s when I realized that Abigail had no concept of how large and wide-open Wyoming is. She couldn’t conceive of a place so vast and so uninhabited that there was almost no chance of anyone else coming across the animal before the scavengers had cleaned the carcass. I explained the best I could though I’m not sure she ever really understood. “Besides,” I told her, “That’s what coyotes are for.” I have no idea what she thought of that!

Another interesting tidbit for this issue is that the story Levi told about his first horse, Frog, is true. It came from a cousin of my dad’s who is now in his nineties. He spent the first years of his life in Wyoming on the ranch just above ours on Horse Creek. Irvin told the story of riding to Dayton and picking up three head of horses. When they got them home, his father gave Irvin his pick and he chose a six-year-old gelding named Frog. According to Irvin, “Frog was the kind of horse that would carry you into hell and back.” He was also a good roping horse, a good hunting horse and even a good rodeo horse. In time, Frog got old as horses do. He was thirty-one years old, which is very old for a horse, when Irvin finally had to put him down. In his words: Frog and I covered a lot of miles together and I sure thought a lot of him. It got so old Frog didn’t enjoy life any more. He was old and sick when I had to shoot him. I think he would have done the same for me.”

That particular line and the image of a man having to shoot his dear friend to end the horse’s suffering still brings tears to my eyes. It’s such a powerful image that I knew I had to find a place to use it. This scene doesn’t really do the reality justice, but it is a nice tribute to Frog, and I think Irvin will like that.

Issue # 20
“I was beginning to think we’d never get here,” Nicki said. The last rays of the sun gilded the treetops as the two weary travelers topped rise above the homestead. “Thank heaven’s the fire didn’t come this way.”

They had made the long trip home in relative silence. Nicki was still wrapped in her grief for Lollipop, and Levi, was fighting the severe headache and light-headedness that had been bothering him off and on all day. Both tried to avoid thinking of the kiss they had shared though it was never far from their thoughts.

“Good Lord!” Levi said, staring in dismay at the gapping hole in the
newly reshingled barn. “What happened?”

“The wind blew it off just before the lightning hit the tree,” Nicki said pointing towards the remains of the old cottonwood. “It was awful. I never saw a storm like that before.”

Levi shook his head. “Neither have I, at least not with that much lightning.” He lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I expect our fire wasn’t the only one today either. We’d better ride the range to see how much graze...”

The sound of pounding hooves interrupted his observation, and both turned to find Peter galloping toward them, a wide grin on his usually taciturn face. He swung to the ground almost before his horse had come to a halt. His fingers fairly flew as he demanded to know what had happened.

By the time the story was told, the three had reached the house. With a glance at the already darkening sky, Peter went to put his horse away and do chores, leaving the other two to make their explanations to an anxious Cyrus and Emily.

Emily immediately whisked Levi into one of the bedrooms so she could clean and bandage his leg wound. After Nicki’s bruised hip had been checked and they had washed off the worst of the grime, Emily set steaming bowls of stew on the table. Peter came in for supper, and Nicki’s description of the trip home began all over again.

“I’ve never seen snakes so riled up. The fire didn’t seem to hurt them much, just made them madder than a wet hornet in a sand storm.” Nicki took a bite of stew and pointed her spoon toward Levi. “Lucky for me he’s a good shot. I almost stepped on the biggest rattler I’ve ever seen but he plugged it with that rifle of his. He saved my life.”

Levi shrugged. “If I hadn’t lost my horse, you wouldn’t have been out there in the first place.” He reached into his shirt pocket, and handed Cyrus the leather pouch. “Here’s your money. I couldn’t get the seed you wanted.”

“Seed?...Oh, right.” Cyrus accepted the pouch with a grateful look. “Well, I’m sure you did the best you could. Thanks.”

Nicki frowned. They were hiding something. A stab of anger slashed across her heart. She felt betrayed. Why would her father trust Levi with information he kept from her? She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, and fixed her stare on the bowl in front of her.

Levi rubbed his hand against his forehead. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“But you haven’t finished your supper.” Emily glanced at the full bowl in front of Levi and then turned sharp eyes to his face. “Do you feel all right?”

“I’m just not hungry.”

“Are you sure that’s all? Your eyes don’t look good.”

“I have a headache,” he admitted, “but I think a good night’s sleep will take care of it.”

“Well, one thing’s certain. You can’t sleep in that barn tonight. Not with that big hole in the roof.” Emily stood up. “I’ll just move my things into the house, and you can use my room.”

“No, Ma’am. You don’t need to do that.” Levi rose. “The barn will be just fine. Doesn’t much matter to me if it has a roof or not.”

“You don’t mind if I share your bed, do you Nicki?” Emily asked briskly, completely ignoring Levi’s interruption.

Nicki raised her gaze to her aunt’s and encountered an intense look. She shifted her attention to Levi and saw what caused her aunt’s concern. His face was gray, and his eyes bleary as he stood and swayed slightly on his feet.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” she murmured. “I’ll help you.”

Together, the two women soon had Levi moved into the room next to Peter’s. That he hardly uttered another protest proved how ill he was. They pulled his boots off and left him sitting on the edge of the bed slowly unbuttoning his shirt .

“Do you think he’s going to be all right?” Nicki asked anxiously as Emily closed the door, and they walked across the dogtrot into the kitchen.

“I can’t really say yet. There’s no fever so it could even be simple exhaustion. We should know by morning.” Emily smiled at her niece. “You’ve had quite a day yourself. How about a bath?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“I’m sorry you have to share your bed with me,” Emily said as she opened the door and walked into the kitchen. “But, I didn’t know what else to do. If Levi really is ill, sleeping in the barn could be make it worse.”
“I don’t mind.” Nicki was surprised to discover that she really didn’t. Somehow over the last month she had lost most of her antagonism toward her aunt. Levi had been right again, a very irritating habit he seemed to have.

It wasn’t until she was in her room starting to undress for her bath that she remembered the letter in her pocket. “Mrs. Adams gave this to me when I went in for supplies,” she said coming back to the kitchen and handing it to Emily. “In all the excitement, it completely slipped my mind.”

“Oh?” Emily glanced at the envelope and smiled softly. “It’s from Liana.” She sat down at the table across from Cyrus and ripped open the envelope as though she couldn’t wait another minute to find out what her daughter had to say.

Nicki felt an unexpected flash of envy. Had her mother ever felt that way about her? Probably not. Samantha had left her without a backward glance.

“Oh my goodness,” Emily said in surprise. “She’s coming out here.”

Cyrus raised his eyebrows in concern. “All by herself?”

“No, she says she’s traveling as far as Denver with an elderly woman who was a patient of Dr. Bailey’s. I left Liana with Dr. Bailey and his sister, you know. Anyway, the lady needed a companion, and he suggested Liana take the job. She’ll be coming to Denver with the woman and her family, then north on the stage. It says here she should arrive at the end of June.” Emily looked up. “Oh, Cyrus, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Your daughter will always be welcome here. You know that.”

Nicki opened her mouth to make a scathing remark about nobody asking her opinion, but a sudden, overwhelming loneliness washed over her. What would it be like to have her cousin Liana as a friend? Not an exasperating older brother like Peter, but a girl she could share her thoughts with. Even as the idea occurred, Nicki pushed it away. She needed a silly female companion about as much as she needed to learn to read. Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she stomped off to take her bath.


Very late that night Nicki awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. As she listened to her aunt’s soft snores, Nicki sorted through the confusing dreams that had forced her awake. The terror of the fire coupled with Lollipop’s death had produced nightmarish visions that still swirled through her mind. Afraid to go back to sleep, she tried to dwell on more pleasant thoughts.

Without meaning to, Nicki found herself thinking of Levi. He had saved her life today, not once but several times. His coolness had kept her from losing her head during the fire and again when she’d almost stepped on the coiled rattler. Though she’d never admit it, she was even grateful he’d taken the job of shooting Lollipop out of her hands.

And then he kissed her. Touching her lips, she closed her eyes. Until today she’d fooled herself into believing a kiss would be a mere meeting of lips, pleasant perhaps but not earthshaking.
The reality was frighteningly different. Was she like her mother? Would any man’s kiss would send the blood screaming through her veins, or was Levi something special? Horrified by the first thought, terrified by the second, she turned on her side and stifled a groan.

The picture of him sitting on his bed barely able to unbutton his shirt rose in her mind. Never, in the three months he’d been with them, had he ever shown the slightest weakness. What if he was really sick? Suddenly, Nicki sat bolt upright. What if he’d gotten worse and nobody checked on him until morning? What if he died?

She slipped silently out of bed, walked to the bedroom door and closed it softly behind her. Dressed only in her cotton nightgown, she walked through the house and across the dogtrot, her bare feet making no sound on the cool floor.

The door to Levi’s room squeaked in protest as she pushed it open, but nothing stirred within. Cautiously lighting a candle, she moved over to the bed and peered down at the sleeping man.

He had succeeded in removing his shirt, but had apparently not had the energy to shed his pants. By the glow of the candle Nicki’s eyes took in the dark curly hair that covered his wide chest and tapered into a line down his belly. She had seen Cyrus and Peter bare-chested before but this was not the same somehow.

Staring at his semi-nakedness, her stomach gave an odd little twist. In spite of the powerful muscles, he looked strangely vulnerable lying there. It was difficult to resist the unexpected urge to trail her fingers across the broad expanse, as she reached out to touch his forehead. She jumped in surprise when his eyes suddenly popped open. They glittered unnaturally in the candlelight as he stared up at her.

Without warning, his big hands closed around her elbows and pulled her down on the bed beside him. “My sweet little Nicki,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Before her shocked mind even had time to react, his lips came down on hers destroying all thought of struggle before it even occurred to her. Instead, she opened her mouth to the tender invasion of his as she sought to recreate the magic she’d discovered in his embrace that very afternoon.

Note from author: This is the beginning first love scene of the book takes place. Levi is very tender and Nicki is swept away in spite of herself. However since this website is G rated and frequented by my fourth grade students, I have censored the scene. The full scene will be in the book, of course, which is slated for release in April of 2008.

BLOG # 20 Layering Characterization

I don’t remember exactly when I came up with the idea of a daughter for Aunt Emily, but I do remember using the letter from Liana to add depth to Nicki’s character. As I’ve mentioned before, it takes a light hand to build characterization, to add layer upon layer unobtrusively. The author has to reveal bits and pieces without the reader being aware of what’s going on. If it stands out, it loses its effectiveness.

In this scene the reader learns several important things about Nicki. First of all, she is illiterate which will become important several chapters down the line. Secondly it’s not because she’s stupid, but because her mother didn’t care enough to teach her. That little piece of information adds to the growing feeling that most of Nicki’s problems stem from Samantha Chandler and her neglectful relationship with her daughter. The final piece is Nicki yearning for a female friend, a confidant, someone to share her thoughts with. It shows how desperately lonely and isolated she is. She rejects all of it, owning a dress, having a friend, even knowing how to read as unnecessary indulgences.

Then there is the love scene. Though I couldn’t post the whole scene, the general soft feel is established in the portion that is there. Levi is loving and tender, and Nicki responds with tenderness of her own. It is obvious that Levi and Nicki have deep feelings for each other. It is truly a love scene and not just gratuitous sex, which is how I prefer to write love scenes. Of all I have ever done, I believe this may well be the most tender. Oddly enough, Nicki is by far my least tender heroine. Perhaps that’s why Levi is my most gentle lover. Until next time…….

Issue # 21

When Nicki awoke, she lay in Levi’s arms, her head pillowed against his solid chest, his bandaged thigh resting possessively between hers. It felt wonderful, and she smiled softly savoring the moment.

As her mind cleared, she realized with a start, that Levi was shivering. She raised her head and stared at him in the light of the candle she’d left burning on the nightstand. The room wasn’t cold, yet he was shaking as though it was the dead of winter, and his skin had an odd bluish tinge. She pushed at his shoulder trying to wake him but got no response.

Dear God what was wrong with him?

‘Aunt Emily! She’ll know what to do.’ Nicki squirmed out of Levi’s embrace and scooted off the bed. She covered Levi with the patchwork quilt that had been at the end of the bed and bent to retrieve her nightgown from the floor. It was then that she noticed the blood smeared all over the inside of her thighs. She stared at it aghast, knowing it was too early for her monthly flow. Levi must have hurt her inside somehow. He’d acted as though the pain was normal, but surely a woman didn’t bleed every time.

Glancing at Levi, who was shaking even harder now, she decided she’d worry about it later. Right now she had to get Emily. Hurriedly sponging the blood away with a rag and some cold water from the pitcher by the bed, she donned her nightgown. With one last look at Levi, Nicki closed the door behind her, stuffing the bloodstained rag into a hole between two logs in the wall outside.

Emily was easily awakened and grasped the situation immediately. “Get a lantern and all the extra blankets you have. Oh, and we’ll probably need one of your father’s nightshirts as well,” she added over her shoulder as Nicki rushed to do her bidding. Settling her glasses firmly on her nose, Emily pulled on her robe and grabbed up her precious black bag from its temporary place by the door.

The older woman was just finishing her preliminary examination when Nicki arrived with the requested supplies. “Light the lantern and set it on the table. We need to get him into that nightshirt and under the blankets.” Emily looked up with a worried frown. “I really shouldn’t let you help, but I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

Nicki shrugged. “I took care of Papa all last winter.”

“Your Papa and a young, unmarried man are two different things,” Emily reminded her. “But there’s no help for it.”

Nicki set the lantern on the table and turned to find her aunt staring at Levi’s leg in shock. A large spot of blood stained the bandage. Nicki froze, her heart pounding in her throat as she remembered the feel of that same bandage against her inner thigh when she woke up. Would Emily know where the blood came from and realize Samantha’s depravity existed in her niece as well?

“Oh dear,” Emily reached out and touched the bloodied bandage. “I thought the bleeding stopped.”

Nicki nearly sagged with relief. Aunt Emily didn’t suspect a thing. Thank God. Nicki wasn’t ready to face the possible consequences of what she and Levi had done. Not yet anyway, maybe never.

“I think there’s another bandage in my bag, Nicki.” Emily’s deft fingers were loosening the binding even as she spoke. “I’ll need that and the powder next to it.” As she carefully removed the pad, a look of complete bafflement crossed her face. The cut was clean. Not a drop of blood sullied it or the inside surface of the bandage. Puzzled, Emily touched the spot on the outside of the bandage, and for the first time noticed a similar stain on the blanket. Her eyes widening in sudden suspicion, she directed a sharp questioning look at her niece.

Searching Emily’s bag for the powder, Nicki missed her aunt’s scrutiny. By the time she returned to the bed Emily speculations were hidden. Working together, the two women soon had Levi rebandaged and dressed in Cyrus’ nightshirt.

Nicki eyed the seams straining over the broad shoulders. “It doesn’t fit him very well does it?”

“No, but it’s the best we can do. He needs the warmth.”

Nicki frowned down at the violently shaking form on the bed as she pulled the heavy quilt over him. “What’s wrong with him, Aunt Emily?”

“I wish I knew. It could be several different things.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and sighed. “All we can do for now is keep him warm and watch him. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

When Nicki started to protest, Emily cut her off. “I’m going to need your help, but you’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re exhausted. You’ve had a very difficult day, and you’re tired. Go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be time enough to help with the nursing.”

Nicki was reluctant but it was a surprisingly short time after she crawled into bed that she fell asleep. She slept dreamlessly and awoke to the sound of birds singing outside her window.

She dressed hurriedly and rushed through breakfast preparations. Cyrus questioned her anxiously when he learned of Levi’s unexpected illness. Nicki thought she detected a flicker of concern in Peter’s eyes as well. Gulping her own breakfast down in record time, she nodded absently while Peter told her he was going to take the wagon to pick up her saddle. Even her grief for Lollipop was pushed aside in her worry over Levi. She didn’t stop to wonder why concern for a mere hired hand superseded everything else.

Still chewing her last mouthful, Nicki crossed the dogtrot between the two sections of the house. The rag she’d stuffed into the chinking caught her eye. If anybody else found it, there were sure to be questions. She pulled it from the wall, folded it carefully and stuck it in her back pocket. It looked like her handkerchief, and she could launder it with the other rags next time she had her monthly flow. Seconds later, she found Aunt Emily adjusting the bedclothes around the sleeping figure on the bed.

“How is he?” Nicki whispered.

“He’s stopped shivering, but he’s still unconscious.” Emily shrugged helplessly. “He may be over it, or it may just be a new stage of whatever this sickness is.”

“Your breakfast is waiting for you on the stove. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Emily stood up and stretched tiredly. “Just watch him. If he should wake up, try to get him to drink some water. I’ll be back as soon as I get dressed and have breakfast.”

“I’m going to need your help, but you’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re exhausted,” Nicki said in a nearly perfect imitation of her aunt’s voice. “You didn’t get much sleep last night you know.”

Emily smiled. “Very well. I’ll be back in a few hours then, but if there’s any change, come and get me right away.” Without further argument, Emily relinquished her patient to Nicki’s care.

Nicki settled into the chair, and soon found herself wishing she had thought to bring her mending. Unused to inactivity, the hours stretched before her in endless boredom. There was nothing to do but think, and that was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Facing what she’d done in this very room was harder than facing the prairie fire.

Embarrassment, disgust and self-loathing swirled through her. How could it have happened? More importantly, how was she ever going to face Levi? To have hit him after a mere kiss and then behave like a complete wanton in his arms only a few hours later, was unexplainable. She hadn’t once tried to stop him. Worst of all, she’d enjoyed it. Even now, with the recriminations and guilt, there was an unfamiliar warm glow inside.

As the memories of the night came rushing back, she closed her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she heard those soft throaty noises that had come so naturally.

In her mind she saw a lace curtain billowing out from an open window. The sounds drifting out on the summer breeze had been in comprehensible to the two nine-year old girls who sat under the window wondering what was happening inside. Curiosity had finally gotten the best of them, and they had peeked.

Samantha Chandler and Herman Lowell lay on the bed, their naked bodies entwined in the age-old dance of love. Neither Nicki or Amanda had really understood what was going on, but they were unable to tear their eyes away. Their parents seemed totally oblivious to everything except each other and whatever it was they were doing.

At last, afraid they’d be discovered, Nicki had tugged on Amanda’s arm, and the two little girls had snuck away from the window. Certain that they would be punished if they ever revealed what they’d seen in Herman Lowell’s bedroom, Amanda and Nicki made a pact to keep it secret. But nothing could ever wipe the scene from Nicki’s mind.

Nicki sank her head in her hands, tears prickling behind her eyelids. In spite of everything she done to prevent it, Nicki was just like Samantha. For there was no denying she wanted Levi to make love to her again.

Nicki jumped to her feet and took a turn around the room. Though she was filled with self-loathing, she couldn’t make herself hate what she and Levi had done. It had been wonderful and made her feel so special, so utterly feminine, so loved.

In the next moment all her confusion was forgotten as Levi moaned. Nicki lay her hand soothingly on his shoulder and gasped in surprise when she felt the heat through the thin material of the nightshirt. Almost fearfully, she transferred her hand to his brow. Fever! He was burning up with it.

Nicki hit the kitchen at a dead run. “Aunt Emily, Aunt Emily,” she cried, bursting through the door to her bedroom. “He has a terrible fever.”

Emily was out of bed in a second and struggling into her robe. “How bad is it?”

“I...I don’t know, but I’ve never felt anyone so hot before.”

“Well, let’s go see.”

As she followed Emily back to Levi’s room, Nicki felt better. She was certain her aunt would know just what to do.

Emily, however, was not so sure. She considered the symptoms as she poured water from the pitcher into a bowl. First a severe chill and then a high fever. An unusual combination. “Nicki, did Levi complain of not feeling well yesterday?”

“No, but I thought it was kind of strange that he got bucked off, even with the lightning. I mean, Levi could ride a bucking horse until it dropped dead from old age. Do you suppose he was already sick?”

“It’s possible. He certainly was when he got here.” Emily unbuttoned Levi’s nightshirt and began to bath his chest with a cool wet rag. “I though at first it might be exhaustion or even smoke inhalation, but the symptoms don’t fit. He had a headache and no appetite. Several hours later he came down with a chill followed by a fever.” She sighed. “I only know one thing with those symptoms, but it’s a disease of the tropics. It would be virtually impossible to catch in Wyoming.”

“Could you catch it in China?”

“China? Well, I’m not sure, but you certainly could in other parts of the Orient. Why?”

“Levi said he’d spent the better part of four years there when he was a sailor.”

Emily raised her eyebrows. “That does put a different light on things.”

“Aunt Emily, what do you think he has?”

The older woman adjusted her glasses. “I’m very much afraid Levi has malaria.”

BLOG # 21 Maleria

At this point in the writing I found myself in need of an illness, one that would leave Levi capable of making love to make him delirious enough to not remember it when he woke up. A wayward fever would have worked but seemed a bit contrived. I had just about decided to use it anyway when some relatives of my husband’s stopped by for a visit. They had been traveling when the Kenny came down with chills and then a fever. Unlike Nicki, his wife, Jessie knew exactly what was going on, her husband had had it many times over the years and she knew what to do. She gave him his medicine and brought him to my in-law’s house where they spent the night.

By the next morning when I saw him, he was beginning to recover though he still looked a bit peaked. Everyone seemed to know what was wrong with him but me since I’d only been part of the family for a few years. Finally, after listening to everyone discuss it as though it was a well known fact, I decided to risk committing a faux pas and asked what was wrong.

Kenny gave me a weak smile and said it was a little present he’d picked up in the Philippines during World War II. It seemed he had malaria. I’d heard of it, of course and knew people frequently survived. What I didn’t know was that many survivors have recurrences of the disease for the rest of their lives. As Kenny told me about his experiences with malaria, it occurred to me that it might be just what I was looking for.

When I got home I headed straight for my resource books. The more I read about malaria the more please I became, not because it is a very pleasant disease but because it fit my purposes perfectly. His time in the Orient would have afforded him the perfect opportunity to contract the disease. Another thing in my favor was that Aunt Emily had been a nurse on the East coast. As someone who frequently dealt with ailing sailors she would have almost certainly recognized the symptoms and known how to treat it. Once I knew what Levi had it was easy to back track and add the symptoms.

I just love it when things fall into place like that!

Previously in Willow Creek: After long hours of nursing Levi’s mysterious ailment Aunt Emily puts the unusual symptoms together with the information that he had spent time in the tropic. Nicki is horrified when her aunt tell her Levi has malaria.

Issue# 22
Nicki gasped. “Malaria! I...is he going to die?”

Emily rose from her chair and retrieved her black bag from the table. “I can’t say for sure but probably not. Since he obviously didn’t catch it here, this isn’t his first out with it. He’s survived it at least once before.

She opened the bag and began to rummage through it. “Now where is that? I’m sure I have some...Ah here it is.” With a satisfied smile she pulled out a small white packet. “Quinine. I always keep it on hand at home. With all the sailors around, I never know when I’m going have to treat malaria. It can come back over and over again.”

“Will that cure him?”

“If he has malaria, it’ll help. We can expect the chills and fever to continue for awhile, but malaria always responds to quinine.”

Nicki directed a worried frown at Levi. “What if it doesn’t?”

“Then he doesn’t have malaria.” Emily measured small amount of the powder and added it to a glass of water. “The problem will be getting him to take it.”

Between the two of them, they managed to prop him up in the bed. Then, with Nicki supporting his head and shoulders, Emily attempted to force the liquid down his throat. He obligingly swallowed the first mouthful, but then set his teeth and twisted his mouth away from the bitter draught.

After several minutes of concentrated struggle by the two women, Nicki lost her patience. “Levi Cantrell, if you don’t stop acting like a big baby and drink your medicine, I’m going to smack you!” For several seconds nothing happened, then, to the surprise of his two nurses, he obediently opened his mouth and drained the glass.

“That’s better.” Nicki gently lay him back against the pillows and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

“She’s got a damn nasty right punch,” he muttered.

Emily and Nicki exchanged a dumbfounded look across their patient then laughter gurgled from both at the same time. “I don’t even want to know how he came by that information.” Emily said.

“I only hit him once, but I guess I made an impression.” Nicki grinned in spite of the blush she felt creeping up her neck. “At least we got the quinine down him.”

“Yes, and I don’t need to worry about leaving you alone to watch him while I go get some sleep.” Emily smiled as she adjusted the bed clothes. “Levi obviously knows who’s boss.” Her grin fading she felt his forehead again. “Keep bathing him with cool water to hold the fever down. You can expect it to break about noon or a little after, but I should be back by then. He’ll be due for another dose of quinine around one.”

Engaged in the endless task of battling the fever with cool wash cloths, Nicki found little time to dwell on the night before. Delirious from the heat burning within, Levi mumbled as he tossed and turned on the bed.

Over the course of the morning she learned an amazing amount of information about Levi Cantrell and the people in his life. She was pretty sure Cole, Charlie, Kate and Pa were his family. It was obvious he was very close to them all.

Then there were Cynthia and Stephanie. Cynthia had hurt Levi badly sometime in the past. First he talked of how much he loved her. Then he cursed her over and over. Whatever she’d done had left a permanent scar on his heart. Nicki disliked Cynthia intensely.

Stephanie she hated. Whenever Levi mentioned her, his face would soften. The more he talked, the less Nicki wanted to hear. Stephanie was beautiful. Stephanie was kind. Stephanie could ride like the wind. Stephanie was an excellent cook. Stephanie had held a cattle rustler at gunpoint. Nicki had to admit, that one intrigued her. Even so, she refused to change her opinion of the oh-so- wonderful Stephanie, particularly when Levi said, “Don’t be a damn fool. She’s as close to perfect as you’re ever going to get. Marry her!”

It was probably a good thing Emily chose that moment to return to the sick room. She noted Nicki’s clenched fists and grinding teeth with surprise, but didn’t ask what had prompted her niece’s aggravation. “How’s the patient?”

‘Miserable I hope,’ Nicki thought. “About the same,” she said aloud. “I think his fever is a little less, but he’s very restless.“

Emily nodded. “I imagine he’s rather uncomfortable.”

“He keeps mumbling things.”

“It’s not uncommon to be delirious with a high fever like this.” Emily laid her hand on his brow. “I think you’re right, though. He does seem cooler. Did you have any trouble with him?”

“No.”

“Good. I fixed some lunch. Why don’t you go eat with your father and Peter?”

“What about Levi?” Nicki nodded toward the bed. “How do we feed him?”

“I’ll make some beef broth when he wakes up, but that may not be for a while yet.”

Nicki took a deep breath of the warm air as she stepped outside. It felt good to be out of the sick room. Perhaps she’d take a little walk before she went to the house.

Enjoying the bright sunshine, she was almost to the barn before it occurred to her that Levi might say something in his delirious ramblings that she didn’t want her Aunt Emily to hear.

So far, though he’d mentioned Nicki’s name quite frequently, it was obvious she caused him more irritation than anything else. But what if he said something about yesterday’s kiss, or even about last night? Aunt Emily was no fool. Even an obscure reference might be enough to tip her off. Nicki quickly retraced her steps back to the house, determined to spend as much time at Levi’s bedside as possible.

When Nicki returned in slightly less than an hour, Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing. I just thought I’d come back and see how he’s doing.”

“Did you eat your lunch?”

“Yes, and then I cleaned up the...Aunt Emily he’s sweating!” Nicki stared at the beads of perspiration gathering on Levi’s brow.

Emily nodded as she sponged the moisture from his forehead. “The fever broke just after you left. I’m afraid it will get considerably worse before it’s over.”

Her prediction proved to be true. They changed his nightshirt and the bedding, but within minutes he was drenched again. The second dose of quinine, administered with another terse order from Nicki, went down with ease, and still the sweat poured from him. Nicki had spent the morning trying to keep Levi cool, now they fought to keep him dry. Twice more they changed his linens only to have them soaked almost immediately.

At long last the deluge seemed to slow, and Emily sat back with a sigh. “I think the worst of it is over.” She mopped her own brow and smiled wanly. “It appears that Levi does nothing halfway. I don’t remember when I’ve seen anybody sweat that hard even with malaria.”

It took ten minutes for the two women to change everything yet a fourth time. “Now we have to replace all the fluid he lost,” Emily said. “I’d best go make that beef broth. He’ll be needing it soon now.” At the door she paused a moment. “Give him as much water as you can get him to take.”

“How? I don’t think I can force it down him by myself.”

Emily grinned. “I’m not so sure about that, but you won’t have to. He could wake up any time now.”

With that, she was gone leaving Nicki alone with the last person she wanted to face right now. What would she say to him? Looking down at his sleeping face, she shifted nervously.

Maybe she was worrying for nothing. Levi slept deeply, the first real sleep he’d had all day. He probably wouldn’t wake up for hours yet. As soon as Emily opened the door she’d make her escape. Relieved, she reached up to wipe his brow once more.

At that precise second Levi opened his eyes and gazed up at her. “Nicki?”

A thousand butterflies danced in her stomach as she stared down into the blue-gray depths of his eyes. “Y..yes, Levi, I’m here.” Her hand shook slightly as she smoothed the hair back from his forehead.

Levi glanced around the unfamiliar room. “Where am I?”

“Aunt Emily’s room. Don’t you remember?”

He blinked up at her in confusion. “The last thing I remember is shooting a snake out from under your foot. How did I get here?”

A wave of shock ran through her. He had no memory of their shared intimacy! She rose and filled a glass from the pitcher. “You’ve been sick. Aunt Emily says you need to drink lots of water.”

Obediently he raised his head and drank, then fell back against the pillow in exhaustion. “My God, what do I have?”

“Aunt Emily says malaria.”

“Oh. The Doc said it might come back. How long have I been out?”

“Only since last night.” ‘Last night when you held me in your arms and made love to me,’ Nicki thought bleakly. Her secret was safe, and yet she didn’t feel the relief she should.

“So tired,” he murmured, his heavy eyelids drifting closed. “Nicki...” but he was asleep before he could finish.

When he awoke again Emily was sitting next to his bed coaxing him to drink something vile from the glass she held to his lips.

“Welcome back, Levi. I was beginning to wonder when you’d join us again.”

“Agh! Are you trying to poison me?”

Emily laughed as she set the empty glass on the nearby table. “Hardly. It’s quinine. I realize it’s rather bitter, but it won’t poison you.”

Levi made a face. “How could I have forgotten that nasty taste?” He looked around the room. “Did I imagine Nicki?”

“No, she needed some rest so I sent her to bed. She spent most of the day taking care of you. You spoke to her several hours ago when you were awake briefly. I imagine you’re hungry. I made you some broth, and it won’t take but a minute to warm it up for you.” She plumped his pillow and adjusted the blankets around him “You just relax. I’ll be right back.”

Left alone, Levi tried to separate reality from the fever induced hallucinations. Everything was cloudy except for one dream. Even now, the vivid images came back to torture him. Nicki was in his arms responding to his caresses, running her hands lovingly over his naked body. It all seemed so real. He could still smell the scent that was uniquely Nicki, hear her making incredibly sexy little noises as he loved her, and feel her arching against him in the throes of ecstasy. With a groan he closed his eyes, but the pictures didn’t go away. He even had a realistic memory of what it felt like to take her virginity, for God’s sake.

Never had he experienced such a life-like dream. The sights, the sounds, the sensations were all there, lurking in his memory, haunting him with visions that could never be. Thank God Nicki couldn’t read his mind. If she knew the erotic fantasy his mind had created with her at the center, she’d probably shoot him with his own gun.

BLOG # 22
Plot-wise I had two reasons for Levi being delirious. One, as I’ve already mentioned, was to make it possible for he and Nicki to make love without him recalling it. Ironically, when I came to the end of the chapter, I found myself writing about his memory of the encounter. After taking three chapters to set it all up, it suddenly seemed important that he remember. Of course, Levi thought it was a dream which was almost the same as not remembering it. About fifteen or so chapters later I discovered why it was important that he know, but when I wrote this scene I hadn’t a clue. Such things have a way of working out in my books though I don’t always know where it’s going to lead. Of course there are times when I follow and impulse like that and have it lead to a dead end. Then I have to go back and take it all out too. Since, this scene might well have been the first time something like that happened I’m glad it turned out to be useful. Otherwise I might never have discovered one of my best plotting tools.

As I said, there were two reasons for Levi’s delirium. The other was back story. There were certain things about Levi that Nicki and the reader needed to know. If you’ve been reading my Blogs, you already know that I have used a variety of different techniques to put in back story. The problem is as a writer you have to make sure each book is fresh and different. That means what works beautifully in one book will seem old and tired in the next. Finding innovative ways to tell the back story becomes something of a challenge. Suspect I got the idea for this from somewhere else, though I don’t precisely remember where.

As Levi mumbles in his sleep, Nicki seemingly learns all about Levi’s family. In reality, she gets just enough information to make some erroneous conclusions which cause Levi no end of problems down the line. It also helps connect the reader to the back story. If you’ve read Shadows in the Wind you’ll immediately recognize the people and incidents Levi mentions. Little things like that make the reader feel as if he or she is sharing a secret with the author and adds to the overall enjoyment.

If Willow Creek is the first book of the Cheyenne Trilogy you’ve read it gives you background to help you understand Levi. It will also hopefully pique your interest and cause you to seek out the other two books. At any rate Levi’s malaria induced delirium was quite as useful as a plot device as it was threatening to the hero’s survival.

Issue # 23
“Are you about done with the roof, Levi?” Nicki’s voice rang cheerfully through the afternoon air. It had been almost a month since the big storm had torn the chunk off the barn
roof, but with Levi’s illness they had been too busy and short handed to fix it until now.

Levi looked down over the edge. “Not even close to it.”

“What’s taking so long?”

“A hole the size of the kitchen, that’s what. Grab a hammer and come give me a hand.” There was no answer from below and Levi grinned to himself. So much for harassment
from Nicki.

Five minutes later his hammer paused in mid-swing when she appeared at the top of the ladder.

“What’s this? Don’t tell me you’re actually going to help me.”

“It’s that or clean the chicken coop.” Nicki climbed onto the roof and then turned to peer down over the edge. “I’d forgotten it’s so high.”

“Heights bother you?”

“A little,” she admitted as she turned away from the edge and crawled to Levi’s side. “Show me what to do.”

“This is the last board.” He pounded a nail into place and pointed to the shingles stacked nearby. “It’s just a matter of putting those on now.”

Since getting the crops planted took precedence over everything else, Peter had taken only enough time to slap some boards over the hole in the barn roof before turning his attention to the newly plowed fields.

Now, with the beans planted and the oats showing a velvety green in the new alfalfa fields, there was time to do a proper repair job. Levi had started fixing the roof this morning and was already more than half done. Even though Nicki had given him a bad time about not being finished, she was more than slightly impressed with how much he’d accomplished.

She watched closely as Levi tacked a shingle into place and reached for another one. ‘Nothing to it,’ she thought and moved to the other side of the bare spot. It only took a few minutes to discover shingling was much more difficult than Levi made it look. If the nail didn’t bend, she’d hit her thumb, or the shingle would slide out of place. She was only on her second shingle by the time Levi had worked his way clear across the new board into her area.

“How can you do that so easily?” she grumbled, tossing her hammer down in defeat.

“Years of practice.” Levi chuckled. “My first attempts were pretty sad.”

“Is carpentry another of your hidden talents?”

With three good whacks he finished nailing the shingle she’d been struggling with. “I don’t know if I’d call it a talent, but it is something I like.” He eyed her frustrated expression. “Why don’t you hand me the shingles and I’ll do the nailing?”

“It’s a deal.”

“So you’ll brave high places and smashed thumbs to get out of cleaning the chicken coop. Seems to me, you used me as an excuse to avoid mucking out the barn awhile back too.” Levi kept his eyes on the nail in his fingers, but Nicki could see a grin lurking around his mouth.

“It didn’t do me any good then.” A mischievous sparkle entered her eye. “But this time is different. I saw Peter headed that way looking for me. When he doesn’t find me, he’ll have to do it himself.”

Levi chuckled and shook his head. At times like this she seemed very young, but he hoped she never lost the innocent charm that was all her own. They worked companionably side-by-side, each almost painfully aware of the other, both pretending it wasn’t so.

Watching the play of Levi’s muscles under his shirt gave Nicki a curious little thrill in her stomach. Memories of their night together assailed her at the strangest times. His mouth moving in a certain way as he ate his breakfast, his hands gently stroking the necks of the huge work horses as he brought them in from the field, the smooth hard line of his body as he rode out of the barnyard, had all stirred her memory.

Levi kept up a casual flow of conversation while they worked, and an unfamiliar emotion swelled within her. Her sturdy wall of defense began to weaken as vague romantic images floated through her mind.

“Did your father tell you I’ll be leaving tomorrow?” Levi asked, glancing up at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

Nicki felt as if the bottom of her stomach fell through the roof and plummeted clear to the ground. “Leaving? N...no he never mentioned it.”

The rhythm of the hammer continued as he tacked another shingle in place. “With the planting done and the cows out on the range I figured this was the best time.”

Nicki took refuge in anger. “You figured it was the best time,” she repeated sarcastically. “Did it ever occur to you Papa might have other things for you to do? You still owe us a couple of weeks for when you were sick you know.”

“Your father is the one that suggested I leave as soon as the barn roof was fixed,” he said gently.
With tears blurring her eyes and pain clogging her throat, she blinked down at the board in front of her. “Fine. Then finish it and get the hell out of here!” Flinging the last few shingles away, she was over the side of the barn and down the ladder in two minutes flat.

“Damn,” Levi muttered under his breath. He tossed his hammer aside and followed her off the roof, cursing her narrow-minded belligerence. He found her in the barn armed with a shovel and a pitchfork.

“Nicki—”

“I have to clean the chicken coop. “

He grabbed her elbow as she attempted to brush past him. “Nicki, this is ridiculous.”

“The chickens don’t think so. If you don’t keep it clean the mites—”

He swung her around to face him, gripping her other elbow with his free hand. “I’m not talking about cleaning the chicken coop, and you damn well know it. Every time things don’t go exactly the way you want them to, you have a tantrum. I’m tired of it. If your father has seen fit to give me a couple of weeks off, I don’t see what business you have blowing up and accusing me of not doing my job!”

“A couple of weeks?”

“That’s right, two lousy weeks. I have some business to take care of.”

“Business?” Nicki carefully lowered the pitchfork and shovel to rest on the floor and looked up at him suspiciously. “What kind of business?”

“It’s personal.” He released her arms to remove the farm utensils. “I made a promise back in January that I need to keep.”

“A promise to whom?”

Levi calmly leaned the shovel and pitchfork against the wall. “A friend.”

‘Stephanie,’ Nicki thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the name aloud. “Wh…what kind of promise?”

Nothing for you to worry about,” he said returning to her side. He reached down and lifted her chin with his finger. “I’ll be back, Nicki.”

Avoiding eye contact, Nicki tried to pull her chin from his grasp. “Who cares?”

“I think you do.”
“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself!” She finally succeeded in jerking her chin away. I’ve been waiting for you to leave since the day you got here.”

He almost smiled at her defiance but thought better of it. “Then I’m sorry to disappoint you. I said I’d be back and I will. That’s a promise.”

“And you always keep your promises?” Her tone was sarcastic, yet Levi thought he detected a faint wistfulness there as well.

“If it’s humanly possible to do so. Besides, I still owe you two weeks.”

Nicki blushed, knowing full well what Cyrus’s reaction would be if he knew she demanded such a thing. “Maybe I was a bit hasty...”

With a glance at the sun, he lifted his hat to wipe his brow. “Maybe you were, but then again your father did ask me to finish the barn, and I’m not doing it.” He replaced his hat then gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks for your help up there. I’ll see you later.”

With a smile he was gone, leaving her to stare after him, painfully aware of the conflicting emotions warring within her.

It was the same unsettled feelings that forced her to rise at the crack of dawn in order to see him once more before he departed. With the fresh tang of the morning air came the realization that she had no excuse to be out so early. The last thing she wanted was for Levi to think she’d come specifically to see him off.

“Oh,” she said in feigned surprise as she came upon him tying his bedroll onto his saddle. “I thought you’d left already.”

It was all Levi could do not to grin at her artificial nonchalance. “Not quite. What brings you out so early? Come to say good-bye?”

“I was going out to gather eggs. We need some for breakfast.”

“What a disappointment.”

Nicki gave him a puzzled look. “The eggs?”

“No, I was hoping you’d come to say good-bye.” He tightened the last set of ties on his bedroll. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, just thinking about saying good- bye to you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you believe me when I say I’ll be back He gave Lady a final pat and turned to Nicki with the familiar twinkle in his eye. “I think I’ve come up with a way of convincing you, though.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

With the speed of a panther pouncing on its prey, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his mouth warm and insistent.

Nicki returned his kiss without hesitation. Enthusiastically, her arms circled Levi’s waist as delicious warmth spread through her.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Levi released her and turned away.

Nicki opened her eyes in time to see him already swinging up into the saddle.

Breathing heavily, Levi stared down at her, an odd expression on his face. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.” He took a deep, steadying breath to clear his head. “Two weeks, Nicki. I promise.” Nudging Lady with his heels, he turned and rode out of the yard without a backward glance.

Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, Nicki stood gazing after him until horse and rider were long out of sight.

Leaning unnoticed against the side of the barn, Peter had observed them with astonishment. When the big man had pulled Nicki into his embrace and bent to kiss her, Peter waited for the inevitable explosion. He watched in surprised wonder as Nicki had melted in Levi’s arms.

Isolated on the homestead, and locked in his silent world, he knew nothing of romantic love or courtship. He’d never even been around a happily married couple. Now, with a puzzled look on his face, he viewed Nicki’s unfamiliar bemused expression with real interest. Whatever passed between them must have been mighty powerful to throw Nicki into such a pelter.
#

Over a week had passed since Levi’s departure, a scene Nicki had tried, unsuccessfully, to put from her mind. Over and over she mentally replayed it. He had seemed as moved by the kiss as she, and yet his words were anything but encouraging. Levi might be attracted to her, but he clearly didn’t want to be.

Glumly, Nicki tied the reins to the brake lever and climb down from the wagon. Liana wasn’t expected for several days, but Aunt Emily was afraid she might arrive early. Using that for an excuse to get out of the house and away from her thoughts, Nicki had volunteered to meet the stage today. Unfortunately, the long trip to town gave her more time to dwell on the very memories she was trying to forget.

Leaning against the hitching rack in front of the store, she watched the stage rumble into town. Within minutes the only passenger, an elderly man, disembarked. The stage driver delivered the mail to Adam’s store, and the coach departed in a chocking cloud of dust. Unwilling to be alone with her own thoughts again so soon, Nicki sauntered into the store.
“Well, Nicki!” Mrs. Adams looked up from the mail she was sorting with a welcome smile. “Do you have time for a visit this morning? I just baked your favorite cake.”

Nicki grinned. “I’d love a visit, but stop trying to fatten me up.”

“Humph, it would take more than a few pieces of cake to...Why, Nicki, here’s one for you.”

“A letter? For me?” Nicki stared in disbelief at the white envelope Mrs. Adams placed in her hand. Who in the world could it be from? Nobody had ever written to her before. She hardly heard Mrs. Adams friendly chatter as she followed her to the parlor directly behind the store. Anticipation gave way to a deep feeling of dread. What if it was from her mother? And if not from Samantha, who?

Her overwhelming curiosity finally overcame her reluctance to admit her inability to read. With a determined sangfroid she handed the missive to Mrs. Adams. “Would you mind reading it for me?”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Adams obligingly opened the envelope and scanned the single sheet curiously. “Why it’s from Mr. Cantrell!”

“Levi?” Suddenly, Nicki’s heart was pounding in her throat.

Mrs. Adams began to read. “Dear Nicki. I am writing to tell you why I can’t keep my promise to return in two weeks...” Mrs. Adams paused in vexation as the bell on her front door sounded. “Oh drat, I have a customer. It probably won’t take long, dear. I’ll be right back.”

Nicki hardly noticed her leaving. ‘I can’t keep my promise. I can’t keep my promise.’ Like a litany, the words kept playing over and over in her head. Numbly, she rose to her feet, picked up the letter and headed for the door. She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Adams calling to her when she walked through the store and out into the deserted street. Blindly, she climbed into the wagon, fighting the nausea that rose in her throat,

He wasn’t coming back. Nicki didn’t have to hear the rest of the letter to know what it said. He thought it over and decided he didn’t want to play at farming anymore, or he’d gotten a better job offer somewhere else, the excuse didn’t really matter. Levi was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

With pain such as she’d never known slashing through her, Nicki picked up the reins and started for home. By the time the homestead came into view, the wall around her heart was taller and stronger than it had ever been.

BLOG #23 How One Thing Leads to Another

This is one place I can actually point to and say “this came from the character chart.” Levi was up on the roof replacing shingles as easily as he could rope a steer simply because his character chart said he was good with carpentry. Later, when I wrote Murphy’s Rainbow, I had all three Cantrell men out building a barn and making shingles. That came from this scene in Willow Creek. To this day I have no idea why I made him good with carpentry. It was sort of an odd character trait for a cowboy to have but it worked well for me.

It’s funny how a small insignificant piece of the story will surface later with unexpected results. For instance, when I revealed that Nicki didn’t know how to read I had no idea how important that fact would become. Had she been able to read Levi’s letter the next few chapters would have been entirely different.

For those of you who have read Shadows in the Wind this is where the two books overlap. Nicki was correct in her assumption that he’d gone to see Stephanie for that is exactly who he had made his promise to. What Levi had no way of knowing was that he’d have to go clear to St. Louis to find her. Levi didn’t know but I did.

When I wrote Levi into the end of Shadows in the Wind I already had a hazy idea that his story might become a book at some point and that I might want to connect the two. I had no idea what that book might be so I was pretty vague about what Levi had left behind when he went in search of Stephanie. Here is the excerpt from Shadows in the Wind

All at once her smile faded. “Oh, Levi, I haven’t even asked about you. Have you found what you’re looking for yet?”

“Actually, I think maybe I have, though I’m probably in big trouble for being gone so long.”

“It’s a woman isn’t it?” Stephanie asked, searching his face eagerly. When he just smiled enigmatically, she crossed her arms in disgust. “And you’re not going to tell me a thing are you?”

“Not yet. One day maybe. Anyway, I have to leave first thing in the morning so if you’re serious about this we better sit down and make some plans.”

“Oh, all right, but I won’t pretend I’m not dying of curiosity.”

When you read you read the two books close together you can’t help but notice the overlap. It appears that I knew exactly what was going on in Willow Creek when I wrote Shadows in the Wind. In reality, I wrote Willow Creek to match what I knew already existed in Shadows. It's about the closest I ever come to using an outline to write my book.

Issue #24 Lianna

“I’ll go see if she’s on the stage,” Nicki quickly signed the words to Peter, then made her escape before he could ask any more questions. With planting done, there was a lull in the work around the homestead, so Nicki had been unsurprised when he’d offered to accompany her to town today. She’d even been grateful. Being alone with her thoughts was the last thing she wanted.

It wasn’t long before she realized Peter had only come along to find out why she’d been so unhappy the last few days. Side-stepping his inquisition had been a severe strain on her self-control. Now, after three miles of his constant badgering, she was ready to throttle him. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with it any more. She’d just make sure Peter drove home. With the reins in his hands he couldn’t talk.

For the fourth day in a row, Nicki watched the stage lumber into town, wondering why she’d bothered to make the trip. Aunt Emily didn’t really expect Liana until tomorrow. Nicki straightened in surprise as the door opened, and an almond-eyed beauty stepped down.

It had to be Liana. The delicate features were a perfect blend of her dual racial heritage; the Asian and Caucasian melding into exotic loveliness. Her skin was the color of old ivory and a thick, black braid wound around her head beneath a pert little hat. Tall and slender, she moved with willowy grace as she gazed around curiously.

“Liana?”

The young woman turned to Nicki in surprise. Then, quite suddenly, a brilliant smile lit her features. “Are you my cousin Nicole?”

“I guess so, but my name is Nicki.”

“Nicki. Oh, I like that.” Liana smiled shyly. “But I hope you won’t mind if I slip occasionally. I’ve thought of you as Nicole ever since I can remember.” All her life Liana had adored her older cousin and now smiled at Nicki hopefully.

Even Nicki couldn’t hold out against all that love and admiration shining forth from the seventeen- year-old. She felt an unfamiliar glow of friendship as she wholeheartedly returned her cousin’s smile. For the first time in her life, Nicki found herself trusting someone immediately.

The two women were jostled just then, as another passenger stepped off the stage. “Damn Chink,” he muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

Nicki turned angrily, her violet eyes snapping with fire. “Did you say something to me, Mister?”

“No, ma’am. Just commenting on the trash you find on the stage and in streets any more.” His sneering gaze raked Liana from head to foot. “It’s getting so a man can’t get away from it anywhere.”

“I’ve noticed that myself, and most of it seems to be white.” Nicki said angrily. “Around here a gentleman apologizes for bumping into a lady.”

“Sorry. All I saw was you and your Chink friend.” The man sarcastically doffed his hat and walked away.

Staring after him, Nicki clenched her fists in a burning rage. Gently Liana laid her hand on her cousin’s arm. “Never mind, Nicki. It doesn’t matter.” Over the years Liana had become inured to the hateful comments people made about her Chinese blood. She gave Nicki a quick hug, hoping to distract her. “It’s so good to finally be here. My mother didn’t come with you?”

“No, she stayed home with Papa. We really didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll be able to surprise her,” Liana said happily as they turned and walked toward the wagon. “I can’t wait to see Uncle Cyrus and Peter.”

“Well, you’ll get your wish soon enough. Peter’s right over there. Don’t be offended if he seems stand-offish at first. It takes him awhile to get used to people.”

‘You mean trust them,’ Liana thought to herself. How well she understood the pain and humiliation Peter must have suffered in his life. Liana had always felt a kinship with the unknown Peter simply because they were both shunned for something they had no control over.

“Here she is, Peter. Liana, this is Peter.

“Smiling shyly up at him, Liana had an impression of broad shoulders, beautifully molded lips and warm brown eyes before his mouth snapped into a forbidding frown. He removed his hat and nodded curtly to her before stomping off to fetch her bag.

“Mama never told me he was so handsome,” Liana whispered in an awestruck voice.

“Handsome?” Nicki’s eyebrows arched in surprise as she watched Peter walk away. “I never thought about it. He’s always just been my brother.” Looking at Peter in a new light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Peter thought of Liana.

Oddly enough, Peter was wondering the same thing. He’d been expecting a gangly adolescent not a beautiful young woman, and the reality had stunned him. Then she’d smiled at him with a kind of awe that had twisted his guts in the strangest way. Surely Emily Patterson had told her daughter about his deafness. Why hadn’t she reacted with hostility and scorn the way other people did? She would bear watching.

During the ride out to the homestead, Nicki and Liana chattered like two magpies, each more and more convinced she had found a friend in the other. Peter drove the wagon, seemingly oblivious to the other two. Like a magnet, Liana’s eyes were drawn repeatedly to his square-jawed profile. He hadn’t been very welcoming, but at least he hadn’t looked at her as if she were some sort of loathsome insect the way most strangers did. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

BLOG # 24 Liana

At first glance the stage passenger’s prejudice toward Liana may seem a bit extreme. Wyoming is not generally thought of in connection with Chinese immigrants that came to America during the last half of the nineteenth century. However on September 3, 1885 anti-Chinese sentiment exploded into violence that became known as the Rock Spring Massacre.

If you look at a map of Wyoming you will notice the towns of Cheyenne, Laramie, Rock Springs, and Evanston, appear to be evenly spaced across the southern part of the stat. In reality they are exactly one hundred miles apart, with each serving as the end of the rails at one point during the building of the transcontinental railroad. As an incentive, the American government granted both the Union Pacific and the Central Pacific railroads huge tracts of land along the tracks. Both companies were quick to exploit the riches found there, including mining the coal found at Rock Springs.

For the first few years, all of the miners were white. Then a strike occurred in 1875 and Chinese workers were brought in as strikebreakers. The strikers were fired and mining resumed with 150 Chinese. Local residents disliked the Chinese immigrants from the beginning and resentment grew as more and more were brought in. Tension continued to grow for a decade until finally Chinese laborers outnumbered whites two to one. The citizens of Rock Springs felt so strongly that the Union Pacific gave the Chinese preferential treatment that they decided to run the who lot of them out of town. In the ensuing battle twenty-eight Chinese were killed and another fifteen seriously wounded. Hundreds fled Rock Springs. Although most of the news media of the time deplored the “massacre” they sympathized with the white miners and anti-Chinese sentiment continued.

Though Liana has no connection the Chinese in Rock Springs, that piece of history is the reason she exits in Willow Creek. I toyed a little with the idea of having the Rock Springs difficulties spill over, but other than the prejudice exhibited by Liana’s fellow passenger and a few others later on, I let it be. To tell the truth I was distracted by Peter and Liana’s mutual attraction. It took me completely by surprise and led the story off in a different direction than I had imagined…. Again. Some of those little side trips I take hit dead ends, but it’s well worth following them. Every once in awhile one turns out to add as much to the story as Liana does, but more about that later.

Issue #25 Cyrus
Over the next few days, to the deep satisfaction of both Nicki and Liana, their friendship began to grow into a closeness neither of them had anticipated. Nicki clung to it in an effort to drive away the pain of Levi’s desertion.

Countless times, she’d pulled his letter from her pocket and attempted to decipher it. Though she was able to identify individual sounds, her skills were too limited to unlock the meaning behind the letters. She always ended up frustrated and angry with herself for even trying.

Today, she was hoeing the young beans, an activity that left entirely too much of her mind free to remember and dwell on ‘if only’s’. The wind even took away the necessity of swatting mosquitoes. Normally, she would have considered it a perfect day for the work she had to do, but she would have rather battled the mosquitoes than Levi’s ghost.

“Nicki! Nicki!”

She straightened and smiled with real pleasure to see Liana flying toward her. Then, with a sickening lurch, she recognized a frantic quality in Liana’s voice. Something was very wrong. Dropping the hoe, Nicki ran, jumping rows of immature beans as she went. They met at the edge of the field, both breathing hard, Nicki wide-eyed with fear. “What’s happened?”

“Your father’s having an attack,” Liana gasped. “Mama says come right away.”

Nicki was running before Liana had finished her message. Even so, it seemed to take forever to reach the house. Once inside, she burst into her father’s room, gasping for breath and shaking with terror.

Emily was frantically fanning the air, trying to help ease Cyrus’ tortured breathing, but it was obviously not helping much. He was fighting for every breath he took in, the agony clearly written in the hands that fiercely gripped the bed clothes. No sooner had the life-giving oxygen entered his body than the muscles in his face and chest strained with the effort it cost to push the used air back out again. It whistled through tightly pursed lips in a frightening cacophony of sound. Blue tinged lips and fingernails gave mute testimony that his body was losing the desperate battle it was fighting. It hurt just to watch him.

“Nicki, thank God you’re here. Check the tea kettle to see if it’s boiling. I’ll need a big bowl and a couple of extra sheets, too.” Emily’s voice was steady, but Nicki could sense the urgency lying just below the surface.
Nicki sped to the kitchen, snatched the bowl she used for bread dough off the wall and ran to her bedroom. Within seconds, the blankets and quilts lay on the floor as she jerked the sheets from her bed and hurried back to the kitchen.

With her heart pounding in her throat Nicki grabbed the handle of the now whistling tea kettle and let out a yelp when it scalded her hand. Ignoring the pain, she seized a dish towel, wrapped the handle, and hefted the kettle again. This time she made it clear back to the table beside her father’s bed before the heat once again burned through to her hand.

Just then, Liana rushed into the room with Peter at her heels. “I found him, Mama. What do you want me to do now?”

Pouring a measure of brown powder into a mug, Emily nodded to the fan she had abandoned on the chair. “Keep fanning him while I get things ready. It doesn’t help a whole lot, but it does keep fresh air where he can get it. Nicki, fill this cup with hot water and tell Peter to help your father sit up while we build a steam tent. He must be kept in an up right position, or he won’t be able to breathe at all.”

With Peter supporting Cyrus, Nicki and Emily quickly erected a tent with the extra sheets. From her medical bag, Emily produced a bottle of camphor, poured some into the bowl and added hot water. Covering both Cyrus and the bowl with the tent, she let the pungent steam go to work. After five minutes, she pulled the sheet back and Liana resumed fanning for five minutes. Then, back under the sheet for another five minutes. Five minutes in, five minutes out, over and over
again.

After half an hour the brew in the cup was ready, and Nicki held it to her father’s lips, encouraging him as he drank the herbal tea. Then back under the tent. And so it went until, at long last, the worst of the attack seemed to have passed.

Cyrus’ breathing was still stressed, but he was no longer fighting for every breath. Emily stacked two quilts and every pillow in the house behind him to prop him into a sitting position.

“Didn’t think I was going to make it that time.” Cyrus’s voice was thin and reedy.

Laying his hand out flat, Emily frowned down at it. The fingernails were still a distinct blue rather than the normal pink. “You’re not out of the woods yet, my friend. This New Jersey Tea should have had more of an effect too.” Picking up the now empty mug she glared into it as though it were somehow at fault.

Cyrus merely smiled and glanced out the window at the late afternoon sky.

Liana stood and walked to the door. “I’ll go start supper.”

Startled to discover it had grown so late, Nicki jumped to her feet. “I’d better go do the chores.”

Shaking his head, Peter indicated she should stay with her father and started to leave. Then he turned back toward the bed and stood staring at Cyrus for a long moment.

“What is it, son?” Cyrus barely had the energy to lift his hands and make the signs, but it was enough.

With a look of anguish so eloquent it hurt, Peter hurled himself across the room and knelt by the bed. With his right hand opened wide, he touched his thumb to his forehead twice in the sign for father. Grasping Cyrus’s emaciated hand in his own callused palm, he held it to his cheek, silently staring into the other man’s face. His square jaw trembled, the brown eyes blurred, and for the first time since he’d lost his hearing sound passed his lips. “I...love...you...Papa.”

The words were hesitant and barely understandable, but they were the most beautiful Cyrus had ever heard. With what little strength he had left, he pulled Peter into a hug.

When the embrace ended, Peter surged to his feet and strode out the door without another backward look.

“God, I didn’t even know he could still speak.” The weak breathy voice quavered with emotion. “I wish he truly was my son.”

“Your sister knew what she was doing when she asked you to take him,” Emily said, rubbing his hand. “He may not be the son of your body, but he is the son of your heart. Isn’t that what’s important?”

“The three of us have been a family for almost as long as I can remember, Papa,” Nicki said. “As far as I’m concerned, Peter’s my brother.”

Cyrus smiled. “And together you’re invincible.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “Ah, Nicki you’re the best daughter a man could have.”

“Oh, Papa.”

He knew he should tell her about the gold before it was too late, but he decided to wait until that night after Emily went to bed. He wanted no one to know his secret but Nicki.

The herbal tea he had consumed soon had the sedative effect Emily had hoped for and Cyrus fell into a deep sleep. Sometime during the night the wind began to blow, once again filling the air with invisible poisons. The pollens and dust that had triggered the earlier attack returned to infiltrate the lungs of the sleeping man and wreak havoc on his already-weakened body.

Nicki was dozing in a chair next to the bed when the sudden wheezing and gasping awoke her. Grasping the situation instantly, she shook Peter who had taken up a similar position on the other side of the bed. “Go get Aunt Emily. Hurry!”

Peter was gone almost before her fingers stopped moving. Panicky now, Nicki started fanning Cyrus in an effort to supply him with oxygen. Suddenly his eyes popped open.

“Nicki,” he gasped, “can’t... explain. Levi... have...to...”

“Papa, don’t talk. Save your breath.”

“Tell Levi,... north...east... corner.... Peter’s... bedroom...”

“Papa, please don’t waste your breath on it,” Nicki begged.

Pulling on the last of his reserves, Cyrus sat bolt upright and grasped Nicki’s arms in a feverish grip. “NO! This...is...important...tell... Levi!”

The pained panting between each word made Nicki realize her father was trying to tell her something he considered more important than life itself. “Tell me what you mean.”

“No...time. Promise...you’ll...tell...Levi.”

“Papa, he’s not coming back,” she blurted out desperately.

“PROMISE!”

“All right, I’ll tell him. Only please don’t try to talk any more.” Nicki was frantic. No matter what he thought Levi needed to know, his life was far more important.

With her words, Cyrus sank back against the pillows, apparently satisfied. “He’ll...be...back. Gave...me... his...word.” He closed his eyes to better concentrate on breathing.

He never opened them again during the long, long night while Emily, Nicki and Peter battled to save him. Emily tried everything she knew to ease the tortured breathing, but he only seemed to slip farther and farther away.

Finally, just as the morning sun touched the horizon he drew one last agonizing breath and then lay still. In the silence that followed, before the grief and feeling of personal loss could envelope them, the three who were left knew a sudden overwhelming sense of relief that Cyrus would suffer no more. His battle was over.

BLOG # 25 Cyrus

This is probably the hardest chapter I’ve ever had to write. As I mentioned earlier, I used my experience with my father’s emphysema to get Cyrus’s illness correct. Because I was thinking about my father every time I wrote about Cyrus, my fictional character took on much of my father’s persona. When I hit this chapter I knew he was going to die and that it was going to really tough; sort of like going through my father’s death all over. I called everyone in my critique group and put them on standby in case I needed emotional support, grabbed a box of tissues and sat down at the computer.

I wasn’t present at my father’s deathbed since he was in the hospital and passed away in the middle of the night, so I called up one of the most frightening memories of my life. A surprising number of details are still crystal clear forty years later. I think I must have been fourteen or fifteen at the time so it was probably 1967 or 1968. It was early afternoon on a beautiful bright sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky. I’m not sure if it was late spring or summer but I do remember it was warm and with a slight breeze blowing in through the open windows. I even remember what I was wearing: a ragged black and white plaid shirt that had originally belonged to someone else and an ugly pair of green pants. My feet were bare and I was in the process of making pink frosting to go on a layer cake my little brothers and I had made..

I should mention my father had the added complications of chronic bronchitis, and asthma on the top of the emphysema. He was also allergic to over 300 things, any of which could act as a trigger for his asthma/emphysema. I have no idea what caused the attack that day but I do recall that he’d had a rough night and had been having some trouble breathing all day. My mother had spent the entire day with my dad trying to ease his breathing and helping in any way she could. My job was basically to keep my little brothers (seven and two) out of the way, hence the cake we were baking together. My brother Louie was out working in the field somewhere maybe even cultivating beans like Nicki was. I do know he was out irrigating when I sent my younger brother out to get him as Daddy started to get really bad..

My father’s attack was just as I have described including the tortured gasping for breath and the blue fingernails which denote oxygen deprivation. My mother did everything she knew from giving daddy all his medication, making sure his inhaler was close at hand and giving him as many treatments as was safe with his mechanical respirator. Through it all she kept him hooked up to his oxygen. Back then no one had thought of small, portable, oxygen tanks you see now but the green plastic tubing that hooks over the ears like a pair of glasses and blows oxygen into the patient’s nostrils hasn’t changed much. The biggest difference was that the oxygen had to bubble through a glass jar filled with water. The whole apparatus was attached directly to a 100 gallon oxygen tank that was about four and a half feet tall and weighed somewhere around a hundred and fifty pounds or so.

Nothing they did worked. He continued to get worse and worse until he lost awareness. My mother knew she had to get him to the hospital immediately or he was going to die. Unfortunately, one of the disadvantages of living on the ranch was that it was twenty miles to the hospital and another eight to the nearest ambulance. She had called the ambulance in the past when my dad had had attacks but it had taken an hour or more for it to arrive. We didn’t have time for that. Obviously we would have to take him to the hospital ourselves. The problem was how to get him to the car. Even if he had been cognizant of what was going one, which he wasn’t, he couldn’t have walked the fifty yards to the car. Then there was the oxygen tank. None of us could carry it. Even my brother Louie, who was a high school wrestler wasn’t stout enough to pack it that far.

Sometimes you have the feeling angels are sitting your shoulder. That day was one of them. We were still trying to decide what to do when a neighbor who often worked for us showed up unexpectedly with his twenty-year-old son. Within minutes Buck, his son Dennis and my brother had figured out what to do. Buck carried my dad, while Dennis and Louie packed the oxygen tank between them and my mother came along behind carrying all the paraphernalia my father was attached to. My job was to round up my little brothers, grab my mother’s purse, find the car keys and get us all loaded into the car.

I don’t remember how long it took us to get to town, but I’m sure it was faster than usual. I’ll never forget the sound of my father’s tortured breathing as we raced down the highway and the gut wrenching terror that it might stop at any minute. I don’t remember anything else until we were all standing in the waiting room at the hospital with the doctor assuring us we had gotten there in time. That’s when we took stock of each other and began to laugh. I was still dressed in the same ragged clothes and my mother’s dress was inside out. My little brothers and I were all covered with cake flour and pink frosting. As for our feet, the younger boys and I were all barefoot, my mother’s shoes didn’t match and Louie was still wearing his irrigating boots. We must have been a sight!

Fast forward to 1988 when I sat writing this piece. Tapping into the emotion and fear of that day was painful but easily done, just as it was today. To me it is one of the most emotional things I’ve ever written, mostly because it came from a very traumatic day in my life. All the anguish I felt went into the scene with Peter. I have no idea if it affects other people the same way but Peter’s words never fail to bring tears to my eyes

Figuring out the logistics of the scene was not so easy. For that I had to go to my research books. There was nothing on emphysema, of course, and not much on consumption. I wound up having to combine several cures for pneumonia and improvising the rest. The sheet and hot water worked something like the respirator and fanning Cyrus was as close as I could get to the oxygen bottle. The herbal concoctions came from some book on old folk cures though I don’t really remember which one. As for Cyrus’s cryptic message for Levi? I put it in later. At this point in the story I had no idea what I was going to put there. I just trusted it would come to me when I needed it. That’s what you call writing by the seat of your pants.

Issue # 26

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” The circuit preacher’s voice droned on in the bright summer sunshine.

Nicki knew she should be grateful he had been passing through and offered to stay an extra day to give her father a good Christian burial, but it was hard to stand there and listen to the flat monotone voice.

The raw earth of the open grave lay right next to the tiny mound marked John Chandler. Today, Cyrus Chandler would join his infant son as he was laid to rest in the shallow, rocky soil. Close by, Nicki could hear the vague sound of Willow Creek as it trickled by, its streambed nearly empty in the drought. The air was filled with the smell of sagebrush and dust instead of the usual lush odor of growing things.

Numbly, Nicki wondered how much longer the minister would keep the handful of black clad mourners standing in the hot sun. A trickle of perspiration ran between her breasts beneath her borrowed clothing. Aunt Emily had produced an extra black dress that fit Nicki surprisingly well. She thought she should be crying, but she couldn’t. There were no tears left to cry, no more pain left to feel, only a horrible emptiness.

A nudge from Aunt Emily brought her out of her reverie to discover the preacher had finished at long last. Leaning down, she scooped up a handful of soil and let it fall on the pine coffin below.

She turned away, and walked to the edge of the cemetery so her friends and neighbors could pay their respects. “Such a nice service...If there’s anything I can do...It’s a blessing he doesn’t have to suffer any more...I’ll miss him...” People spewed meaningless platitudes because they didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. The crowd was small, but the receiving line seemed to go on forever. Then the last man stood silently before her.

Nicki looked up into the ice blue eyes of Herman Lowell, and goose bumps rippled over her skin. For the first time, she realized that now only she and Peter stood between Lowell and what he wanted, the Willow Creek spring. A muscle flexed in his jaw as he turned the hat he held in his hand. Nicki wondered if he was going to demand they pack up and leave immediately.

When he finally spoke, his words were a complete surprise. “Cyrus and I had our differences, but he was a damn good man. The world won’t be the same without him.”

Stunned, Nicki stared after him as he walked away.

At long last the day was over. The funeral meal had been eaten and cleared away. The preacher, undertaker, and grave digger had been paid, and all the well-wishers had finally gone home. The family sat around the kitchen table, staring at one another, unsure what to do now.

“Aunt Emily.” Nicki toyed with her cuff. She felt oddly shy about the request she was about to make, but a night alone in the empty house was untenable. “You and Liana must be crowded in the room you’ve been sharing. Papa’s room is...well I was thinking maybe you’d be more comfortable there.”

“Oh no, we’re f...” Emily caught a fleeting look of dismay in her niece’s eyes and changed her mind. “You know, that might be nice. Liana snores.”

“Mama!”

“I’m sorry, my love, but it’s quite true.” She turned to Nicki and Peter with a sad shake of her head. “We tried to take in a boarder one year, but he couldn’t abide the awful racket at night.”

From the sparkle in Liana’s eye it was apparent this was an old joke between them. “Actually it was Mama’s cooking. She baked biscuits the first morning he was there. He didn’t come back for supper.”

“No, no, he said it was the snoring he couldn’t stand. Claimed it came right through the walls.”

Peter had been following the conversation closely, but having no understanding for the word snore, he was confused. “What does Liana do?” he asked Nicki.

With a few quick gestures she explained Liana was making noise when she slept, so loud, in fact, that the sound carried through walls.

After contemplating this for several seconds, Peter shook his head and started to sign.

“It must have been the biscuits that made him leave,” Nicki interpreted as the words flowed from his hands. “I sleep next door, and I hear nothing.” The brown eyes regarded them blandly.

The three women stared at him with identical startled expressions, and then simultaneously burst into giggles. The giggles became guffaws, and soon all four were laughing uproariously. Their souls sought to shake off the unnatural despondency with laughter. Vaguely aware that Peter’s joke hadn’t warranted such a high degree of hilarity, they all, nevertheless, felt cleansed and rejuvenated.

Nicki slid back her chair and stretched. “I think I’ll go change clothes and then help you switch rooms, Aunt Emily.”

Liana and Emily helped with the heartbreaking task of storing away Cyrus’s things in an old trunk. The three women had Emily moved in by the time Peter had finished the chores, and life began to take on a new normalcy without Cyrus.

Later that night, Nicki settled down for the first decent sleep she’d had in several days. Just as her eyes began to drift closed, an odd little thought flitted through. Even in the horror of the last few days there was some good to be found. Levi Cantrell had hardly crossed her mind at all.

BLOG # 26 The Shell Cemetery

The cemetery Cyrus Chandler is buried in really exists. It is outside the town of Shell, Wyoming and sits on a hill above where Horse Creek dumps into Shell Creek. Though it has creeks on two sides, it is a dry rocky knob that grows little but Russian thistles (which become tumbleweeds) and patches of buffalo grass. It is also so rocky that you can’t sink a shovel into the soil without hitting rocks. I’ve always figured the settlers put it there because it was the one place on the creek that they couldn’t use for anything else.

Anyone seeing it for the first time might think they were gazing upon an old West boothill. It has no grass or trees though a few anemic lilac bushes that my grandmother planted struggle to survive near my sister’s grave. Even so it is the first image that comes to my mind when someone says “cemetery”. In fact, it’s where most of my family is buried. The very first (or last depending on how you look at it) row contains twenty-one Lampman graves including, my great-grandparents, my grandparents, my parents, and my brother and sister. There are various other family plots there too, of course. Some belong to families that settled in the area when my great-grandparents did, others came later. Though it’s somewhat different now, when I was growing up the names in the Shell cemetery reflected the names in the phone book. It was a community made up of rugged ranch families that had lived there for several generations.

In spite of the look of the place there is nothing spooky or scary about it. In fact, it is a place of peace and, believe it or not, many happy memories for me. The relatives used to gather every Memorial Day to decorate the graves you see. My grandfather’s sister, Alice came down from Bozeman, Montana every year. One or more of her brothers and various cousins would also put in an appearance. Aunt Alice and I generally went to the cemetery together and did the bulk of the work. Cleaning the weeds off all those graves and decorating them took lots of time and lots of flowers most of which came from Aunt Alice’s and my mother’s yards. To this day lilacs, iris, tulips and peonies make me think of Memorial Day and Aunt Alice Kershner.

I loved working with my great aunt. She was just such a great person and fun to be with. The best part of it, though, was when some woman Aunt Alice had known in Shell showed up to decorate their family graves. They’d always come over to visit and start to reminisce. I didn’t even mind when I got older and wound up doing most of the work myself while Aunt Alice visited. It was well worth it because boy howdy did I hear some good stories about my father and grandfather!

The Shell cemetery is such a special place to me that I even visited it on my wedding day. My new husband and I drove the mile and a half from the Shell church up the winding dirt road. I’m sure he was wondering what he’d gotten himself into when I climbed out of the car in my wedding dress to open the gate, and again when I trudged through the weeds to place a flower from my bouquet on my father’s headstone. When it came time to bury Cyrus Chandler, it never even occurred to me to put him any place else. Every time I picture the grave, it’s always my father’s, which is indeed close to my brother’s and sister’s graves.

I was wishing I had a picture to post with this BLOG, so I Googled Shell Wyoming. Believe it or not, I found a picture of the cemetery! The picture is taken from the opposite side from the Lampman graves but you can see the large “Lampman” headstone that marks my great-grandparents’ final resting place. Because of the angle, my father’s grave (or Cyrus’s) is just out of sight in the upper left hand corner of the picture.

It’s not what you’d call beautiful by any stretch of the imagination and you’re probably wondering why I think it’s such a special place. To be honest with you, I can’t tell you. I just know that a feeling of peace always comes over me when I go there even when it’s only in my mind like it was today. Until next time…