But First…
Don’t forget that a week from now, on July 20, from 9:00 am to 3:30 pm, I’ll be at the Payson Book Festival, sharing Table 45. Have you discovered this great family friendly event? Come on up to the cool pines. I look forward to seeing you there!
And now…
A couple of days ago I discovered a Case Logic folder hiding in a bookcase.
Today I opened it up to check out the flash drives inside.
On one of them, I discovered a lot of old files that aren’t on my current computer, including snippets from the third novel I wrote, which became the fifth novel in The Owen Family Saga, Trail of Storms. I thought you might like to see how this novel and its characters evolved.
This segment, written back in May of 2006, was entitled “Hardy.” The first part included a man named, yep, Hardy. The second part, a memory about James Owen, made it into the novel pretty much intact. The name “Hardy” in the first section, however, did not. Nor did the actions described in the snippet.
Leave me a comment if you know which final character Hardy became, and give us his name. This may be a trick question, so you may need to haul out your copy of Trail of Storms to check.
Hardy
Hardy Lundeen was gorgeous; there was no doubt about that, except for one tiny little flaw. His right ear was half gone. Other than that, he was a strapping blond, six-foot-one in height, and gloriously handsome.
He knew he was good-looking, and he made the most of it with his infectious grin, which turned up a bit more on the left side than on the right.
Jessica noticed him when her family joined the wagon train in western Missouri. Hardy was a single man, headed to California to make his fortune after the war. His Yankee twang was foreign to her ear, but he was a gracious victor, and did not mention anything about the past unpleasantness. Others in the party were not so generous, but the rigors of the journey ahead forced the participants to band together for safety in numbers.
Hardy sought Jessica out one evening, shortly after they had set out on the trail. He asked if he might accompany her on a stroll about the camp, and Mrs. Bingham said yes, if Luke went along, too.
Hardy offered his arm, but Jessica kept her hands clasped together as they walked from fire to fire, greeting other travelers. He chatted cheerily to her about his boyhood in Vermont: hunting, fishing, grubbing crops out of rocky soil.
“I hear California has soil down three feet, and no rocks to hinder a man’s plantings,” he said, grinning. “That’s the place for me.” He paused as they walked in the darkness between two wagons, then asked, “What part of California are you headed to?”
Jessica replied in soft tones. “We’re actually goin’ to Arizona, once we get far enough along the trail. Tucson City.”
“Arizona, hmm? I hear that’s a hard place. Full of snakes and heat enough to boil a man’s brains. Or a woman’s.” He looked down at Jessica. “California sounds more fitting for a lovely young lady like yourself. How about you–”
Luke coughed behind them, and Hardy dropped the subject. Yet, he persisted in calling each evening.
Jessica couldn’t help comparing him to her lost James. He and Hardy were about the same height, but James had dark, crisp hair that curled around his ears if it grew long enough. He was handsome in a different way, and had two perfectly good ears, although she knew he had a bayonet wound in one shoulder. At least it wasn’t a wound you could see.
She sighed. James was gone, lost to her. She remembered the nausea that had swept though her when James told her he was leaving and she was staying. They had clung together, hidden behind a clump of lilacs, tempted to fulfill their love, but when James’s kisses grew hot and insistent, she pushed him away, weeping.
“I can’t, James. You know that. You could leave me with a child, and that’s impossible for me.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she allowed him to kiss them away, but kept her body from touching his.
“Ah Jessie, Jessie.” James’s groan seemed to come from his toes. “How can I leave you?”
“It’s your pa’s doin’. You’ve got to obey him. Even if you don’t like it. I’ll never forgive him,” she whispered, then gave him a soft kiss and a shove. “Go away, James. Don’t come again. Just go.” She fled for the house.
*~*~*
Leave your comment below. I’d like to know how many people know who this character became. Or is there more in this text than is readily apparent?
Copyright 2019 by Marsha Ward
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Instead, by way of illustration for this post, I offer this photo taken by mhamilton456 in 2016 of an outdoor display of some of the windmills at the museum.
