Thanksgiving Traditions

It's November! And that means Thanksgiving is just around the corner. 

There’s just something about Thanksgiving. The food, of course, and getting the family together. I think every family in America has a few inviolable Thanksgiving traditions. I know we do.

For instance, when we were first married, we moved to Dallas and didn’t have any family close by. For Thanksgiving, Dan and I invited any fellow grad students who weren’t going home to come to our house for dinner and bring a traditional dish that you couldn’t imagine not having on the Thanksgiving table. We lit a fire and turned on the air conditioning—it was 75 in Dallas that year. We got to taste some good food that day and made some great friends.

Now that we live much closer to family, we each have a dish that is “ours.” My sister always makes deviled eggs and the sage dressing—she took those over from Mom. Dan and I brine and roast the turkey and make the green beans and cranberry sauce. My mother-in-law makes the mashed potatoes, my sisters-in-law bring sides and desserts and… well, you get the picture.

How about you? Do you have a Thanksgiving tradition you honor every year?

Thanksgiving, to me, is about home, so here’s a scene from WILD TEXAS HEARTS where Wolf and Cal finally get back home.

WILD TEXAS HEARTS

Wolf and Calvin topped the last rise, both eager to see their little house come into view at the end of the long valley. It had taken all of the week Wolf had predicted to get here, but tonight they would sleep in their own beds.

“There it is, Pa! We made it!”

He smiled at Cal’s enthusiasm. Though Wolf wouldn’t admit it to his young son, the ghosts had been riding him hard the past few days, visiting him in the darkness and daylight, reminding him of all his failures. His wife, beautiful, gentle Emily. She deserved so much more than to die because he hadn’t been there to protect her. And little Amanda, his baby girl, who shouldn’t have known the horror, the violence of men at such a tender age.

“We’ve still got the better part of an afternoon’s travel to get there, Cal. So keep moving.”

The sun was setting when they rounded the last bend. The little house looked the same, almost eerily so. The yard was swept of leaves and debris, the porch looked freshly swept and…

“Pa?” Calvin guided his little horse closer to his father’s side, fear and confusion in his voice. “There’s smoke comin’ from the chimney.”

Wolf had seen the wispy white trail more than an hour ago, but had convinced himself it was lack of sleep that had him imagining things. But if Cal could see it, it must be real.

Squatters. Someone low life had moved into their home. “Whoever it is, they won’t stay long once we get there. Get behind me, son.”

He checked the load in both revolvers and his shotgun before bumping his horse in the ribs. As they neared the house, he spotted the lazy freeloader, on the roof of the barn. What the hell was he doing up there? When Wolf saw fresh patches, he realized the squatter was fixing the holes.

That made no sense. All the squatters Wolf had encountered moved into an empty structure and made use of what was there until they were forced out again. He should know. He’d made use of his share of empty houses while he searched for his children.

But the evidence was before him. “This should be interesting,” he muttered. Motioning Cal out of sight, he slid a revolver free and rode up to the barn, stopping just out of the shelter of the eaves.

“What the hell are you doing to my barn?”

The intruder spun around, forgetting his precarious perch. Wolf spotted the flash of sun on a barrel, but before he could react, the man lost his footing, let out a squeal, and started sliding off the roof.

Wolf was moving almost before the realization hit. The curve of hip, the narrow waist. He snagged the falling body just short of the ground.

“Damn it. You’re a woman.”

Critters and Creatures #BlogABookScene

I’m excited about this #BlogABookScene. One of my readers’ favorite scenes is from my first book, TEXAS GOLD. An unexpected blizzard hits Lucille, Texas. My heroine, Rachel, refuses to lose their animals to the weather, so she and her brother fashion a corral and bring them into the cabin. Imagine our hero’s surprise when he wakes up in a strange house to find two goats, four chickens and his horse just across the plank floor.

Excerpt--TEXAS GOLD

Where am I? Jake lay still and took stock of his surroundings. He was definitely inside a structure. Though the air was ripe with the scent of animals, he didn’t think he was in a barn. 

Something lay across his body, holding him in place. He listened for the sounds of people, footsteps, whispered words. Nothing. The silence was broken only by the shifting of a log in the fire. If anyone stood watch, he couldn’t hear them. 

Taking care not to give away the fact he was awake, he opened his eyes a slit. He could see out of the right one, but the left eye was blurry and swollen nearly shut, thanks to a lucky punch from that murdering pack of thieves that jumped him.

How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was dragging himself through a raging blizzard after Harrison and his men had beaten the holy hell out of him. Now the scents of animals, wood smoke, and lavender surrounded him. 

Glancing down, he found the source of the lavender. A woman lay stretched out on top of him. Silky blond hair the color of the summer sun ran in a river across her shoulder and onto his bare chest. Her forehead was smooth and she had a small nose that turned up a little at the end. Long lashes a little darker than her hair fanned across the milky skin of her cheeks. In spite of his battered body, he had a sudden strong desire to taste that skin. 

He shook his head to clear it and bit back a curse as the movement shot pain through his skull. In a rush, the memories of the previous day returned. And so did the agony. Besides his head and face, they must have landed a few boots to his ribs. His side burned like hell-on-fire. 

Taking shallow breaths to ease the pain, he looked around. The rising sun glowed around the edges of the window shutters. He couldn’t see a guard, but he hadn’t really expected to find one. If Harrison was around, a half-dozen guns would have finished the job they’d started last night. 

He turned his head a little to one side and located the source of the smoke. A poorly built red-stone chimney staggered in drunken lines all the way to the whitewashed ceiling. Whoever had built it must have been working his way through a jug of moonshine at the same time. The floor was probably plank since he didn’t smell dust, but all he felt beneath his fingers was wool and the give of a straw mattress. 

He rolled his head to the other side, stretching aching muscles. The room wasn’t large, but it was well kept. There was a curtained doorway behind him and stairs in the far corner led to an attic or second floor. Plenty of places for someone to hide. He’d check them out, as soon as he could coax his battered body to move. 

A sturdy rocker was pulled up close to the warmth of the fire. There weren’t any fancy things lying around. A small plank table with benches down both sides separated the kitchen from this side of the room, but the table was bare except for a couple of books and a guttered candle. Nothing to give a hint of where he was or who’d taken him in. 

He looked to the other side of the room and blinked his good eye to clear his vision. It didn’t help. In the far corner, he thought he saw two goats, four chickens in dilapidated cages, and his horse. There were animals inside the house.

See you next month!

Tracy

#blogabookscene THOSE STAR-SPANGLED FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATIONS

You know what I love about July 4^th? No, not the fireworks—I’ve never been a big fan, unless it’s the big displays exploding overhead. My favorite memories are of the picnics in the park, with the band in the shell and baseball games on the field next door.  Riding my bike through the park, listening to the laughter, meeting up with my friends… the community celebration is what I loved most about July 4th growing up. 

In the old West, the community would celebrate in a similar way. There’d be a band, speeches from politicians and prominent citizens, maybe a basket auction to raise money for a new school or a bell for the church steeple. There might be games for the kids—and the adults—like sack races and horse races. And after the playing and the speaking and the eating, the musicians would tune up for the dancing. 

Yes, I think the celebrations, even in the old West, were all about community and fun.

In WILD TEXAS HEARTS, Wolf Richards returns to Civil just in time for the celebration in the park. He joins the festivities, meets up with friends and sees a beautiful woman he’s never met go dancing by in the arms of the town’s teacher. While he’s wondering where his son and Lizzie are, the doctor takes the next dance with the beauty—and Wolf finally realizes who he’s looking at.

Excerpt from WILD TEXAS HEARTS

Wolf only paused long enough to turn his horse over to Malcolm Douglas at the livery. Flipping an extra two bits to the man to unsaddle and groom the gelding, he strode back into the sunshine, knowing his horse would be well cared for.

He could hear the fiddlers warming up by the time he joined the crowd at the schoolhouse. He greeted friends as he made his way past the tables loaded down with baskets of food waiting to be auctioned off, but he hadn’t yet spotted Cal or Lizzie.

“Richards! Over here.”

Wolf joined Harvard in the shade of a big tree.

“I wondered when you’d arrive. Cal has been watching for you since daybreak.”

“Pa! You made it.” Calvin came running around the schoolhouse, loose shirttails fanning the hot afternoon air behind him. Wolf snagged the flying body and spun his son in a circle, hugging him close.

“I promised I’d be here, didn’t I?”

“That’s what Miss Lizzie said, that you gave your word and you’d keep it no matter what. And. You. Did!” He huffed out the words as Wolf gave him another squeeze.

Wolf dropped Cal on his feet and ruffled his hair. “I do my best, son. Happy birthday, Cal.” With a flourish, he held out the new book he’d bartered from a cowboy at the last trading post he’d visited.

“Thanks, Pa. I’ve never read this one.”

“That’s why I got it for you.” He ruffled his son’s hair.

“Miss Lizzie gave me this.” He pulled a brightly painted toy from his pocket. “She whittled it and painted it and everything.”

Wolf glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear Cal’s slip. “That’s really nice, Cal. Where is Mister Sutter? I haven’t seen him yet.”

Cal’s grin widened and he nudged Harvard, as if the two shared a secret. “Oh, he’s around back, I imagine.” Before Wolf could question him further, one of the other boys called Cal back to their game of hoops.

“What was that all--”

“You haven’t seen the decorations around the park, have you? Millicent and the celebration committee have outdone themselves.” Harvard strolled away, ignoring Wolf’s question.

Something was definitely going on.

The half-acre of flat, open land behind the schoolhouse had been transformed. A large plank floor had been assembled for the dancing, with a raised platform at one end currently occupied by two men Wolf didn’t recognize, tuning their fiddles, Mr. Petersen holding a long saw across his knees, and Sheriff Freeman, who always had the job of calling the dances and controlling the raucous basket auction. The entire area was edged with a railing made of freshly cut tree branches wrapped in red, white, and blue bunting, befitting the day.

Wolf accepted the glass of punch Audelia Mercer insisted he try and followed Harvard around the structure. He spotted Calvin in the middle of a knot of boys, but he still couldn’t find Lizzie. He wanted to see her, needed to know how she’d fared being in town under Millicent’s watchful eye for a more than a month.

Folks took their places as the fiddlers struck up a lively reel. Carruthers strutted by, his collar so stiff he couldn’t turn his head to his partner, a lovely woman Wolf didn’t recognize. The man looked dumbstruck with awe. Who would have thought the schoolmaster would have snagged a woman in this little town? As the dance got underway, Wolf watched the couple parade past, the woman watching her feet carefully as if she wasn’t quite sure of her steps. Something about her seemed familiar, but he was certain they’d never met.

“Who is that with Carruthers?”

Harvard grinned at him. “You know her.”

“I don’t. A man doesn’t forget a woman that beautiful.”

Harvard threw back his head and laughed like a braying mule. “This evening is going to be entertaining.” He slapped Wolf on the shoulder. “Excuse me. This is my dance.”

As the music changed to a waltz, Harvard relieved Carruthers of his partner, took the woman in his arms and started moving. Her sunny yellow skirt flared as they turned and the setting sun made her hair glimmering with all the colors of autumn. Just like Lizzie’s. Where was the woman anyway?

As Wolf watched the couple, something Harvard said made his dance partner laugh, and the sound hit him like a punch to his gut.

That was Lizzie!                    

See you next month!

Tracy

#blogabookscene TEXAS ROSE

TEXAS ROSE has several scenes that qualify for this month’s #blogabookscene theme:  Mayday! Mayday! I chose to go with the first one, in the first chapter, so you can meet the hero, Jaret Walker.

EXCERPT:

Sierra Madre Mountains, Mexico, February 1847 

   The closer they got to the river, the faster they rode.  “Come on, Walker, pick it up.” Nick laughed as he urged his horse to a gallop. “Last one to get wet buys the whiskey.”
   They thundered over the slight rise in the land and straight into a trap. Gunfire erupted from both sides, separating them. Bennett dove from his horse and rolled under some scrub bushes. Jaret managed to find a pile of rocks that offered a little better protection.
   From his vantage, he picked off two of the bandits. Bennett took out a third when the man presented his back while changing positions to get a better angle to shoot Jaret.
   Everything fell silent. “Bennett?”
   “Still in one piece. You?”
   “Yeah.” Jaret shifted, trying to draw any remaining fire. When nothing moved, he worked his way to where Nick lay sprawled in the dirt, careful to stay out of sight.
   “Is it over?
   Jaret studied the land, checking out every shadow. “I’m not sure. Stay put.”
   He balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to make a run for another spot of cover.
   “Look out!”
   Nick dove at Jaret, hitting him in the back. Jaret felt the bullet slam into Nick as they fell. Jaret rolled away and came up firing. The bandit was dead before he hit the ground. In the silence, Jaret heard the sound of a single horse, galloping away toward Texas. At least one man had escaped to carry the tale.
   “Bennett?” Blood was everywhere, running from the gaping wound in Nick’s shoulder.
   “How bad?” Bennett was conscious, but just barely.
   Jaret did what he could to stop the flow of blood. “Pretty bad. You need doctoring that I can’t do. Let me make sure we’re done here, then I’ll get you across the river.”
   “Don’t take too long.” Bennett took a shallow breath and closed his eyes.
   Cursing at the delay, Jaret searched out every bandit to be certain they were dead. He removed guns, ammunition, anything that might be used to shoot them in the back. As he rolled over the last attacker, a chill ran down his spine. He recognized the man. He’d been in the room when Jaret was hired to kidnap Bennett and deliver him to that hell on earth. Jaret glanced around, studying the setup.
   This trap had been laid for him, to eliminate the only witness to Bennett’s disappearance. Jaret blistered the air with curses. He’d been set up and Bennett paid the price.
   Again.

Texas, 1847~

A PROMISE MADE…

A loner with a heart of ice and nerves of steel. A dangerous, fast gun for hire. Jaret Walker has only his honor and the reputation he’s built for himself to call his own. When a promise sends him to isolated Two Roses Ranch and Isabel Bennett, the woman he’s come to protect, all he can think of is making her his—in every way. But she’s the kind of woman a man like him can never have—for he’s a man with a past that haunts him, and with no future to share.

A SCORCHING DESIRE…

The moment Isabel Bennett lays eyes on Jaret Walker, the dreams she’s pushed aside for so long suddenly seem possible. She’s sworn never to marry and give a man control over her ranch. But when Jaret rides into her life, she’s tempted to taste what she’s sworn to give up—a passion that burns out of control with each kiss…desire that consumes them both…and a bold challenge from the future that neither of them believed in…until now…

TEXAS ROSE!
See you next month! for #blogabookscene!Tracy

Fun With Easter Eggs: Tapping, Shackling, Dancing

I had such fun Easter Sunday watching the kids running around our outdoor chapel area hunting for Easter eggs. So, of course, I had to begin hunting for what games my characters might have enjoyed on Easter Sunday—or any other Sunday in the 1800s, for that matter. Imagine my surprise when, besides the normal egg hunting, I discovered egg tapping, egg shackling and egg dancing. 

 

Egg Tapping

The rules are simple: pick an egg, face your opponent and tap eggs until one breaks. The person with the unbroken egg wins and moves to the next players. The egg still intact at the end is the winner. A single elimination tournament with no age limit and guaranteed laughs.

Egg Shackling

In the Victorian Era, egg shackling was a favorite game. It’s origins go back to medieval days. Children wrote their names on an egg and put it in a basket with all the others. The basket was shaken until all eggs cracked. The last egg to crack or remain intact was the winner.

The Egg Dance

The egg dance or the hop-egg, is a dance done in small, hopping steps through a minefield of boiled eggs. Blindfolded. If you manage to do the dance without breaking an egg, there will be chocolate! Since the Saxon word hoppe means “to dance,” hopping was probably brought to England from Germany by the Saxons as early as the 5th century.

In my latest release, WILD TEXAS HEARTS, the heroine, Lizzie, is caught teaching the hero’s young son poque, or poker.

From WILD TEXASHEARTS

“Remember, the ace can be a high card or a low card. Depends on where you need it.”

Calvin laid his two cards down, counted on his fingers, and picked them back up to be sure he saw them right. “If I have it as my high one, that counts eleven, right?” His lips moved as he recounted his hand. “That’s too many. I think.”

“Then count it as one point and ask for another card. You want to get close to twenty-one, but not go over. Remember, though.” She hesitated before dealing. “If you have more than fifteen points, another card will probably be too many.”

Calvin huffed in frustration. “I don’t understand.”

“Didn’t I tell you studying your figures in school was important?” Lizzie folded her own cards and set them aside. “Let’s have a look at what you have. We won’t count this hand.”

Calvin turned over a black jack, followed by an ace of hearts.

A shiver ran her spine at the reminder of her attacker. “That’s twenty-one. You would have won, boy.” Lizzie learned across the table and slapped his shoulder.

“Durn it!” Cal shoved his chin forward in a pout. “We didn’t count that one.”

“That’s all right. We’ll just deal again.” She gathered the cards and started to shuffle. “We’re just practicing anyway.”

“But if I win, you’re gathering the eggs tomorrow, right?”

Lizzie laughed at the hope in his eyes. “And if you lose, you wash and dry the dishes all day.”

Cal straightened in his seat. “I’m gonna win this time.”

“Don’t count on it, swabbie. I’m pretty good at this poque stuff, too.”

“What’s poque?” Cal picked up his cards, one at a time, and started adding, his lips forming the numbers so clearly Lizzie didn’t even have to see her hand to bet.

“It’s a fancy French term for poker. At least, that’s what the sailor told me when he taught me to play.” She laid the homemade deck of cards aside and glanced at the two she’d dealt herself.

“Those sailors sure taught you lots of stuff.”

“There wasn’t much else to do once my chores were done. Or when the wind quit blowing. What you gonna do?”

“I’ll take…uh…one more. I think.”

She bit back a chuckle and dealt Cal another card. “I’ll hold on these. Show your hand.”

Cal turned over a king, a ten, and seven.

“Twenty-seven is six too many.” She flipped over her hand. “Nineteen for the dealer. I win and you have to wash the supper dishes.”

WILD TEXAS HEARTS

A broken man…
Revenge has driven Wolf Richards since the brutal murders of his wife and young daughter. Returning home with his son, Cal, he faces memories and loss at every turn. Raising Cal alone seems to be more of a challenge than he can handle. He can never replace his perfect Emily—until a rough-edged female falls into his arms—and living becomes a new adventure.

An unlikely woman…
Lizzie Sutter is as rough as a cowboy and as compelling as a stormy sky. Dressing as a man allows her to hire on with a cattle drive, only to be discovered and set adrift near Civil, Texas. When she stumbles onto an abandoned cabin, she makes herself at home. Then the owner of her newfound home shows up and Lizzie discovers just what’s missing from her life—and her heart.

Two wild hearts tamed…
Lizzie hasn’t a feminine thing about her, yet she calls to something deep inside Wolf, something he can’t deny. Being a woman has always left her feeling lacking, until he shows her their WILD TEXAS HEARTS belong together…

March--in like a Lion, out like a Lamb

Blog-a-Book-Scene is a monthly themed blogging endeavor from a group of authors who love to share excerpts from their stories. Find us on Twitter with the hashtag #blogabookscene and #PrairieRosePub.

Ah, March…  “Comes in like a Lion, goes out like a Lamb”

Sitting here, thinking about a March blog and listening to the early March wind howl outside, that saying came to mind. I grew up with it—it was repeated every time a thunderstorm fired up in early March. But I have no idea where it comes from. And after researching it—I’m still not sure.

According to the Paris Review blog, one of the earliest citations is from Thomas Fuller in a 1732 compendium, Gnomologia: Adagies and Proverbs; Wise Sentences and Witty Sayings, Ancient and Modern, Foreign and British. Fuller's wording is as I listed at the top of this blog.

Another possible reference seems to be the stars. March begins under Leo, the lion, and goes out under Aries, the ram—although a lamb and a ram aren’t quite the same thing.

Regardless, if you grew up and/or live in tornado alley like me, when the wind blows strong and the storms pop up, the adage will come up more than once this month.

In a nod to spring—may it please arrive soon!—here’s an excerpt from one of my short stories.

From NO LESS THAN FOREVER, A River’s Bend Duo:

Love always finds a way…

Doctor Franz Bittner is satisfied with his life as it is. He has a good practice in a place where he is respected, in spite of his German birth. He has good friends and enough income to provide him with a few comforts. A wife would only complicate things. Then a tiny blond stranger is pulled from the river and everything changes. With one smile she captures his attention—and steals his heart.

Rebekah Snow Redmann barely survived her abusive husband’s attack. Though she was given to him to pay her father’s debts, she’d rather die than go back. Then she ends up in the care of the handsome local doctor and he stitches up more than her wounds—he mends her soul. With him, she discovers everything that she believes she can never have...a love that will last forever.

“This is the first time our little town has attempted such a thing. The Spring Dance was envisioned by Martha and her friend, Mary Hawken, and they’ve worked very hard on it. Would you like to attend this evening?”

Rebekah stared up at Franz from her spot on the blue damask settee. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to dance.”

“You don’t have to do anything more than sit and watch. I should attend, in support of my sister, but I will stay here with you, if that is what you wish.”

“No, you mustn’t disappoint Martha. She’s been so kind to me. You both have.”

When Franz’s gaze heated, she looked away. She may not know much, but she recognized his desire. She felt the same for him and it made her physically ill to know nothing could come of it.

“Little one, we don’t have to go. I will simply ask someone to come and stay with us while Martha is gone.”

“A chaperone?” Rebekah laughed. “That’s hardly necessary, given the circumstances.” When he remained silent, she tried to explain. “If I’m married, you’re safe. And the people here know you would never take advantage of me.”

“But do you know that?” He crossed the room to sit beside her. “Do you believe you are safe alone here with me?”

“Yes.” Though that wasn’t entirely true. She trusted him—but not herself.

“That is good.” Franz patted her hand and rose. “Then we will attend the dance for Martha. We will stay only a little while, and when you are ready, we will come home.”

She nodded her agreement and he left, mumbling something about pressing a suit. He’d barely disappeared from sight when the front door opened and Martha breezed in, bringing a waft of cool, damp spring air into the room.

Fear that her presence in Martha’s parlor would upset the woman ripped through her. “Franz said it was all right if I sat in here for a while. The sun felt so good and I sat right where he showed me. I didn’t touch anything else, I swear.” Her words trailed off when Martha only stared at her in silence before reminding her that she was welcome in this beautiful home. Martha went so far as to give her permission to rearrange the room to suit herself. “I don’t think I’ll find it necessary to move everything.”

“That is good to hear. Are you up to eating a bite of supper? Then I have to get dressed for the Spring Dance.”

“I’ve invited Rebekah to go with us.” Franz leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently at his patient.

Rebekah couldn’t believe she was actually blushing as Franz smiled at her. When Martha enthusiastically supported her brother, she knew she was attending the dance. “I have nothing to wear.”

Martha suggested Mary Hawken might have a dress that would fit and Franz immediately offered to go and ask, shocking both women. But the thought of wearing something that hadn’t been provided by her husband held incredible allure.

Martha’s voice brought her attention back. “We’ll eat and dress before Matthew arrives.”

“Sheriff Tate?” Rebekah couldn’t stop the wave of terror that swept her. She avoided lawmen. The scars on her back were from the one time she’d tried to involve the law to gain her freedom.

Martha’s reassurance helped, though her fear was too deep-seated to be removed by a few words. But, she would never disappoint Martha or Franz. If going to the dance meant being in the company of Sheriff Tate, she would manage somehow.