A Bit of a Break
Sometimes I take a break. The last few days was one of those times. We took a short trip, depending on how one defines a short trip. We drove about 1200 miles, got to see some family and friends, all in all, quite a good time. Unlike many writers and bloggers, I did not take my computer or my tablet. Too tired I guess, didn’t feel like writing, but did finish reading a good book.
Americas First Homestead and Wild Bill Hickok
I did take a nice trip to the Homestead National Monument, where Daniel Freeman filed for the first homestead in America and also took a trip to Rock Creek Station, where Wild Bill Hickok shot up the McCanles bunch.
|Cabin at Homestead National Monument near Beatrice Nebraska|
At times, I enjoy my non-writing days as much as I enjoy the writing. Today, a day short of a week later, I am ready to get back to work.
The First Page
Today I thought that I would share another excerpt from my forthcoming book, a book that was originally meant for young adults, but now will likely be released simply as a modern day western mystery for all ages.
Enjoy, and let me know what you think of the beginning of, Ghost of the Fawn
|One of the settings for, Ghost of the Fawn - Hell's Half Acre, Wyoming|
Ghost of the Fawn – Page 1
Jimmy Bison-Man and Robert Lincoln sat shivering near the back of a small, crumbling sandstone cave tucked away on the west side of the canyons of Hell’s Half-Acre Wyoming. They shivered from both the early morning summer cold, and what they did not want to admit, fear. Fear of what, of things they did not know? Oowoo, oowoo, oowoo, “that’s spooky?” Oowoo, oowoo, “What is that, sure sounds like more than just the wind?” Robert said, before turning to look for something warmer than the t-shirt he had on. He pulled on a bright red hoodie, emblazoned with the word Hoosiers.
Neither Robert nor Jimmy was afraid in the sense that most would see it. The cave didn’t scare them, nor did, the darkness, bats, or the eerie, howling winds, nothing to do with their current living accommodations was scary. It was about who they were, where they were going, and where they were from, for these two big city Indian teenagers. They did not know it, not yet, but maybe, just maybe, this cave, this canyon, and their lives were supposed to be together here, tied by fate through their elders generations ago.
A hawk cried far overhead Jimmy looked up, “I think we are getting a sign,” he said. Then added, “Wish I knew what it meant.
In Other Writing News
I am still working on multiple projects and, as I did last year, hope to release more than one book soon. As long as too much golf, and photography, do not get in my way, I should make it. Also have a few more short trips on the agenda.
|We love the rolling hills and cornfields of southeast Nebraska|
where we grew up. But, there just never is any place like home,
even when we were only away for a few days