is rather foggy out right now which is fun. At least it means there is
moisture in the air. It was supposed to rain yesterday. We did get a
little rain, but not much. Everything has been hot and dry. And guess
what, it is supposed to continue to be hot and dry.:}
you Christian for letting me know what you wanted to read. I have been
so busy with Westerns that I haven't been thinking of Friday's
Fictions.:} I have written over 11 Parts of the Western in less than a
month! Yeah, that's a record! For the last two Sundays Mom has had 3
Westerns to check. Well, this week she already checked one and I gave
her two more last evening, and now I have another one and the start of
yet one more. It may seem kind of crazy, but I am getting tired of
writing Meleah's Western and at the same time I can't seem to get
enough of it written to satisfy me.:} Go figure.
just so you don't think I have completely forgotten about other
stories, I am starting to get ideas for the 2nd book in the Home Fires
series. This one I already have the title for: Ria and the Gang. Interested yet?:)
house today and then baby-sitting the kids this evening. Miss Pickle
Puss (age 4 1/2) informed me that baby Doodle Bug (Hey, I kind of like
that nickname) (age 3 weeks today) likes her better than the boys. I
asked her if it was because she didn't squish him and she sighs a
little and says, "Yeah." Goof Ball and Funny Boy love their baby
brother, but their loving is rather rough.:)
I've got other things to do instead of just rambling on and on talking
to myself. Yeah, I know, it can be a terrible writer's habit. But I do
talk myself through some stories that way.:)
With a shriek of its whistle and a hiss of its brakes, the train pulled
to a stop at the little station where Jenelle Mavrich stood waiting.
Eagerly she watched the few passengers alight. As Norman swung himself
off and then turned to assist his sister down, Jenelle hurried over to
“Darling!” And Jenelle found herself once more in her husband’s arms
while he bent and kissed her. For a moment neither of them remembered
the silent, aloof sister standing in disgust as she looked at her
At last Jenelle freed herself with a little laugh and turned to the
figure in black. “You must be Orlena. Welcome to Rough Rock. I’m
Jenelle.” And she kissed her new sister with warmth. “You don’t know
how delighted I have been knowing that you were coming. Norman, can you
get the bags? I’ll take Orlena to the wagon.” Linking her arm through
Orlena’s, Jenelle led the way over to the wagon talking in that sweet,
pleasant way of hers though not a word had Orlena vouchsafed in answer
to even her greeting.
It was only a matter of a few minutes before Norman joined them with
the bags which he stowed in the back of the wagon. After he helped his
wife and sister onto the wagon seat, he picked up the reins, clicked to
the horses and they were off for the ???.
Sitting silent and half afraid, Orlena grasped the side of the seat
until her knuckles turned white. She had never ridden on a wagon like
this before. It swayed and bumped over the rutted road. And the dust!
It fairly seemed to smother her though neither Norman nor Jenelle
appeared to notice it at all.
“Orlena,” Norman said at last, looking over Jenelle’s head to his
sister. “You can see the ranch when we reach the top of this hill. It
will only be a few moments before we reach home.”
Turning her lip up in disgust at the word “home,” Orlena nevertheless
looked out at the wide sprawling ranch buildings, pastures and fields
as they stretched before her and was, to her annoyance, impressed at
the vastness of it all. She had never dreamed her brother owned so
much. When she was at school it would be something to tell her
classmates, something she could boast about: how large her brother’s
ranch out west was. But now she was going to have to live here!
The wagon pulled to a stop before a good sized house. It wasn’t a
typical ranch style house for it had been built as a farm house long
before Norman’s great-uncle Hiram had begun his ranch. Two stories
high, and nearly surrounded by shade trees, the house looked pleasant
and inviting to weary travelers. At least it did to Norman. His sister
gave it a scornful look and turned up her pert nose.
“Welcome home, Orlena,” Jenelle smiled brightly. “I’m sure you must be
tired from your trip, so let me show you to your room. Your trunks
arrived yesterday, and I had Hardrich take them right up. I didn’t have
time to unpack for you, but I thought you might enjoy doing that
later.” As Jenelle spoke, she led the way into the cool front room and
up the stairs to a small but cozy and quite comfortable room. It was a
corner one with windows on two sides looking out over the barn yard on
the one side and a large field on the other.
Still silent, Orlena walked about her new room, noticed the light
curtains tied back with bits of pink ribbon, the bed with its patchwork
quilt and the rag rug beside it, noticed also the small closet and
toilet stand in one corner and the chair and writing table in another.
Everything had been made as dainty and pretty, as clean and neat as her
sister-in-law’s hands could make things. Yet, in her eyes, when
compared to the splendor of what she had left only that morning, Orlena
thought she might as well have been sent to sleep in the barn!
She didn’t say these things, only thought them, but her expressive face
betrayed somewhat of her inner feelings. Jenelle didn’t speak either
but watched this young girl with feelings of deepest pity and love.
Coming in with Orlena’s bags, Norman set them down and said, turning to
his wife, “I’m hungry, what is smelling so good downstairs?”
Jenelle laughed, “Your supper. Mrs. Carmond kindly lent me Flo for the
day to get ready for you both. She made supper so that I might meet you
at the station. But, Dear, you should freshen up a bit before we eat.”
“That does sound pleasant. Orlena, we’ll leave you to do the same.” “If
you need anything, just call me,” Jenelle added gently before shutting
the door after them. Alone in their own room on the other side of the
house, Jenelle looked thoughtful. “Norman,” she began at last. “Hmm,”
came the somewhat distracted response. “Orlena seems very quiet. I
don’t think she has said more than two words since your arrival on the
Vigorous splashes of water from the washstand, where Norman was busy
washing the dust of travel off his face, prevented any reply. Jenelle
continued, “Does Orlena talk much or is she always quiet?”
Turning abruptly, unmindful of the water running down his face and
dripping onto the floor, Norman stared at his wife. “Talk?” he gasped.
“Does she talk? She can talk faster than I can rope a calf! And once
she starts, she doesn’t stop!” Then, suddenly realizing the mess he was
making, he grabbed a towel and buried his face in it.
“I predict,” he added a moment later, looking at his wife in the mirror
as she perched schoolgirl fashion on the bed and leaned against the
post, “that in a few days you’ll be wishing she would stop talking so
you can think.” Jenelle only smiled.
Any questions you want answered? I only have one more part written.
Should I post it next Friday or something else?
Should I post it next Friday or something else?