Triple Creek Ranch - Part 32

Hello Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
It's cloudy here and cold. Yesterday it was in the 30s all day and cloudy. No snow. I wish :) but Dad needs to work on some roofs, so . . . Maybe we'll get snow later.

This week was rather busy. Or at least we had extra things going on.
On Saturday it was so nice out that I got to go walk with my best friends. That was great! We hadn't walked since before Thanksgiving!
Sunday we had a small group for church since several families were either sick or had people sick and one family was out of town.
It was great to have a normal Monday and I got a lot done! I like those kinds of days.
Tuesday was Salsa day here. My sis-in-law and the kids came over late morning and helped us make and can 13 quarts of salsa. I know, for those of you who have larger families or can in larger quantities, we hardly made any. Just remember it's for a family of four. :)
On Wednesday we went to Connie's to take some things, but decided once we arrived, not to bother. You see, Connie's is going out of business. We had been planning to stop our booth since it just wasn't worth it any longer and then got a phone call saying they had to close. Anyway, we discovered about 1/2 of the booths were either cleared out or being cleared out.
Then Wednesday evening we babysat the kiddos over here along with Sweet-Pea, J-J and Sweet-Heart.  It was a lively but fun evening. What else to you have when you have a 10 month old, a 1 1/2, an almost 2, an almost 3, a 3, a nearly 5 and a 6 year old? :D
Yesterday afternoon Dad took S and me in the truck to pack up our stuff at Connie's. We're now out and have stuff we have to sort through here.
Today we clean house and then this afternoon I'm going with my best friends to go buy shoes for BF1's wedding in May.

I've have been writing some. Mostly on "Project 12" this week. I'm trying to get the first story finished. Then I can go back to TCR and Dr. Morgan and other short stories. At least until I have to get the next story written for "Project 12."

Christian, I must commend your bravery! It seems as though the games I created were too much of a challenge for the rest of my readers for no one has played them. Or if they did, they didn't admit their status on the blog. :) But thank you, Christian for playing! And here is the story you requested. I hope you enjoy it.

Part 32

    He smiled in the dark at his own thinking. If Hardrich couldn’t run the ranch for a few days without Norman in the fields too, he would have to change a lot since he saw him a few hours ago. “I’ll stay here at least tomorrow and see how things go,” he decided. Then he turned over, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

    “Come, Miss Orlena.” Mrs. O’Connor entered the room to find Orlena awake. “The doctor said you were to be getting up this morning and breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” She had bustled about as she spoke and opened the curtains so that the light of the early morning would enter.
    “Oh, I can’t get up this morning, Mrs. O’Connor,” Orlena objected, trying to look pitiful. “Perhaps by this afternoon I’ll have enough strength to get up for a time. I’ll sleep a little longer and then you or Jenelle can bring my breakfast.”
    “We’ll do no such thing.” Mrs. O’Connor turned to the bed and pulled the sheet off.
    “How dare you!” exclaimed Orlena, bouncing upright and glaring, seeming to forget in her anger that she was “still weak and sickly.”
    “The sheet needs washing. Your clothes are on the chair. You’d best be putting them on, for Norman and Jenelle will be waiting for us.”
    “Us?” Orlena repeated. “I will eat in the dining room, and you will eat in the kitchen. I refuse to eat with hired help.”
    “You won’t be eating anywhere unless you get dressed,” Mrs. O’Connor replied calmly.
    Orlena moved over to the chair. “You’ll have to help me get dressed, Mrs. O’Connor, or I’ll never be ready in time and then Norman will be angry at me.” She whimpered like a child afraid of his own shadow, but Mrs. O’Connor wasn’t deceived.
    “What you need, Child, is some sensible clothes you can dress yourself in without keeping your brother waiting.”
    The dress was soon on and Orlena sat down before her mirror and held out her brush to Mrs. O’Connor. “Now fix my hair,” she ordered. “Remember, I should have fourteen curls.”
    But Mrs. O’Connor was not going to cater to the young tyrant any longer. “Tis not likely I’ll be doing your hair for ye,” she exclaimed, letting her Irish tongue speak with it’s old lilt.  “I didn’t come to play nurse maid to ye when yer old enough to be doin’ it yerself. Tis time I was down helpin’ Mrs. Mavrich with the breakfast entirely!” And without so much as a by your leave, Mrs. O’Connor disappeared from the room.
    “How . . . how . . . how dare you!” Orlena spluttered. “Mrs. O’Connor!” she hollered. “You come back here this minute. Do you hear me?” She flung open her room door and shouted as she had never done even in her grandmother’s house. There she would have rung for another servant and then, when her grandmother was present, she would have pouted, whined, complained or cried until the one who had displeased her had been properly punished. “Mrs. O’Connor!” Never had the housekeeper dared to ignore her wishes before. She would speak to Norman about her.
    Leaning over the railing, staring down the stairs, Orlena was about to shout again when the door below opened and her brother appeared.
    “Good morning, Orlena,” Norman looked up to greet her pleasantly.
    For a brief moment, Orlena remained standing and stared down. Then she remembered what she was going to tell him and ordered, “Send Mrs. O’Connor to my room at once!”
    Norman’s eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t exactly a pleasant morning greeting,” he remarked, adding, “Mrs. O’Connor is busy helping Jenelle get breakfast on the table and I’m afraid can’t come now. Is there anything I can do?”
    Orlena glared down at him. “No!” she snapped and started to storm back to her room.
    “Breakfast will be in five minutes, Orlena,” Norman called after her.
    The sound of her door slamming was her only reply.
    “Hmm,” Norman scratched his head. “I wonder if she will come down this morning for breakfast? She certainly isn’t still sick in bed.” Shaking his head, he returned to the dining room to stand by the window and drum his fingers on the sill. “This could be an interesting day,” he mused.

    And so the day started. Orlena did come down for breakfast with a hurt look on her face and complained to her brother in a teary voice about Mrs. O’Connor’s rudeness.
    His only response was, “We don’t always get things our own way. Pass the butter, please, Orlena.”
    Orlena passed it, muttering under her breath.

    To Jenelle’s surprise Norman remained about the house all day. Not always inside, but being only out in the barn or in one of the outbuildings, he was often stepping inside for something. As for Mrs. O’Connor, Jenelle’s worries about her fitting in were wasted, for before the day was over Mrs. O’Connor felt like one of the family.
    “She fits in better than Orlena has yet,” Jenelle sighed to herself as she latched the chicken coop and prepared to follow her new housekeeper and Orlena back to the house.
    Norman, coming from the barn, fell into step beside his wife. “Have you explained the care of the chickens to Mrs. O’Connor and Orlena?”
    Jenelle nodded.
    “Good. Orlena,” he called, lengthening his stride a bit to catch up with his sister, “starting tomorrow the care of the chickens will be your responsibility.”
    Stopping short and wheeling around, Orlena stared at her brother. Surely he was joking! He didn’t really think that the granddaughter of Mrs. Marshall Mavrich would take care of chickens, did he? One look at his face, however, told her that he was not teasing. “I have nothing suitable to wear for such a despicable job,” she told him haughtily.
    If Orlena thought her lack of proper clothing would deter her brother and make him change his mind, she was sadly mistaken.

Have you any questions or comments?

Party Time!

Good Morning FFFs!
It looks like it's going to be a lovely day! I heard it was supposed to get into the 50s today. :) And the sun is shining, well, once it gets past the horizon it should be. :)

Since the 16th of this month marked the 4th anniversary of this blog, it's time for a party! I hope you all enjoy the games created just for you. We'll see who really knows my stories. :) For some questions it might be the process of elimination. But have fun. Enjoy yourself and then come back next week for another story.

See if you can get the answers correct in the five games I created just for you, my faithful Friday fiction fans. :)
If you get 24 - 31 answers correct you are an Expert and are qualified to give lectures about me and my work as well as know your way around the blog.
If you get 13 - 23 answers correct you are a Friend who is quite fond of this blog and familiar with my work though you can't recall all the details.
If you get 6 - 12 answers correct you are an Acquaintance who drops by now and then to see how I'm doing, recognizes my name when it comes up in conversations and even knows a story or two.
If you get 0 - 5 answers correct you are the New Kid on the Blog. Welcome, and I hope you'll stick around and enjoy yourself.


So, grab a paper and pen and have fun!
These games are to be played without looking at any other post on my blog. Or reading any published books of mine.

Game One

They Said What?

(Match the quote with the person who said it. The titles of the stories are after each name.)

A. "I have to live in a city."
B. "Was it the best one yet?"
C. "I think I'll take my flashlight into my sleeping bag this time."
D. "I tell you they're gone!"
E. "There's a guy selling hot dogs!"
F. "This is quite a night to be out, lad."
G. "Guys, it looks like we'll be here a while."
H. "I don't smell a thing."
I. "Dad, they have a flat tire!"
J. "I didn't know we had come so far."

1. Sarah Smith- Answered Prayers
2. Howard Bartell- The Storm
3. Rone- Alone
4. Chester Reginald Donavon- The Emancipation of Chester Reginald Donavon; Esquire
5. Reagan Rowe- My Best Thanksgiving
6. Professor Stovkewetsky- The Mysterious Solution
7. Mia Marley- Christmas Disaster
8. Jeff Hansen- Mystery at Random
9. Susanna Stanson- Home For Christmas
10. Jerry Wyatt- SWAT Team Adventure

Game Two

Who Am I?

(Match the description to the correct person. These are major and minor characters. Next, match the characters to the correct story title. To score this game, if you can match all three parts together you get on 1 point, if you can only match two, you get 1/2 a point.)

1. I fell out of a tree but didn't get hurt.
2. The rain soaked my shirt twice in one day!
3. I jumped in surprise and shock while doing my job.
4. I'm not sure I want to babysit again!
5. I look just like my brother and sister only I'm thin and pale.
6. I helped dig tunnels in the snow.
7. Living with my grandfather was not what I wanted!
8. I couldn't fix my flat tire.
9. My grandfather became excited by what I found.
10. I want to plan what to do in any situation that might arise.

A. Patrick Henry
B. Kerry
C. Nate Jones
D. News Reporter
E. Sammy
F. Bennett Marley
G. Tracy Linnet
H. William Croften
I. Miss Rachel
J. Tyrone

1. Toothpaste Trouble
2. Neglected and Forsaken
3. An Autumn Path
4. Alone
5. The Storm
6. A Christmas Disaster
7. Ruined Shoes
8. At the Foot of the Falls
9. Two Dollars and a Knife
10. Sergeant Wyatt: SWAT Team Adventure

Game Three

Weather Report

(Decide which of these stories fits the weather reported.)

*It snowed on Christmas Eve Day.
1. Christmas Delays     2. A Christmas Story     3. Home for Christmas     4. Worst and Best Christmas

* A storm is responsible for the creation of a clever solution of how to get home.
1. At the Mercy of the Storm     2. The Storm     3. Answered Prayers     4. Canoe Trip

* Temperatures reached the upper eighties during the day only to fall quite low by evening.
1. Lower Lights     2. The Medford's Independence Day     3. Sergeant Wyatt: SWAT Team Adventure     4. Lost in the Dunes

*An approaching snow storm hastened the work of the characters.
1. The Emancipation of Chester Reginald Donavon; Esquire     2. A Christmas Disaster     3. The Graham Quartet and the Lonely Cabin     4. A Western Christmas

*A summer day that is warm but not hot or humid.
1. A Promise     2. Mysterious Words     3. Neglected and Forsaken     4. At Last

Game Four

Doctor! Doctor!

(Match the correct Doctor with the story he belongs in. Take special care that you don't mix them or their patients might not recover!)

A. Dr. Armstrong
B. Dr. Black
C. Dr. Jack Fields
D. Dr. Fredrick Foster
E. Dr. French
F. Dr. Earl Friesen
G. Dr. Dave Quincey
H. Dr. Stern

1. Triple Creek Ranch
2. Christmas Delays
3. Home Fires of the Great War
4. Worst and Best Christmas
5. Fishing for a Little Peace & Quiet
6. At the Lighthouse
7. The Unexpected Request
8. Dr. Morgan

Game Five

Place Me

(Place the character or characters in the correct setting for their story. Be careful!)

1. Hannah Ward
2. Jessica Chang
3. Jones Family
4. Prof. Stovkewetsky
5. William Croften
6. Chad and Brooke Dancroft
7. Alexander Family
8. Rowe Family

A. "Xander Horse Farm," KY
B. A little town in Russia
C. "The Glen," a southern mansion
D. An apartment in New York
E. A southern island
F. West Texas
G. Animas Forks, CO
H. A hotel-like place by the sea

Once you have finished, go here to check you answers. Don't post your answers in the comments, only what you are. :) Have fun! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone is.

So how did you do?

Are you an Expert, Friend, Acquaintance or a New Kid on the Blog?

Will you be back next week?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 31

Good Morning FFFs!
It really feels like spring outside even if it is still January. Tomorrow evening it is supposed to get cold and we could get some ice, sleet or maybe snow. Winter again.

It was a lot of fun to get all your guesses. :) No one got close for how many books I had read. I surprised even myself with that number. Christian was the closest to the correct answer. His guess - 85. Right number - 109!!! Have I mentioned that I like to read?

And as for the number of books we have at home, not counting the cookbooks, song books, books on PaperBack Swap or the four boxes of books we have to get rid of, we have a lot. Angela, you were only one off! Our grand total for books in the house is 6004!
Thank you all for your guesses and I hope you enjoyed it. :) I did.

Wow! I thought that since I had written two more parts of TCR, I'd post one this morning. I wasn't sure which one I was ready to post so I went back to look. I had no idea that the last TCR that was posted was back in September! No wonder you want another one. Sorry.

Life has been busy, but not too much. Last Friday I went over to help a friend paint her new house and I'm heading back over there again today for a few hours. The only other thing of interest is that for the rest of today, my 3rd book, "Pirates of Rocky Crag Bay and Other Stories" is available for free download on Amazon! So, if you don't have a copy yet, know of people who might like to read it, or just want to share about it with friends, family or strangers, go right ahead, but do it soon! I've already had over 800 downloads!

But, I don't have much time now, so here is TCR! Enjoy!

Part 31

    “She is to get up tomorrow,” Dr. French said. “And see that she has something to do besides sit around all day. She’s not an invalid.” It was evening, and Jenelle and Mrs. O’Connor had followed the doctor down to the front room where Norman was waiting for them. “What that child needs now is some exercise, and you,” the doctor wheeled suddenly to Jenelle, “could do with less exercise and more rest.”
    “That is why Mrs. O’Connor is here, Doctor,” Norman answered, putting an arm about his wife. “She’ll see to it that Jenelle gets her rest when I’m out on the ranch.”
    “And that Orlena has things to do?” Doctor French shook his head and picked up his hat. “I hope you are a strong woman, Mrs. O’Connor, for I have a feeling Mr. Mavrich is handing you a full time job.”
    Mrs. O’Connor smiled, “I’m used to working. A sad thing it would be indeed if Margaret Patrick O’Connor had to sit and rock all the rest of her days. A sad thing entirely!” Now and then a bit of Mrs. O’Connor’s Irish upbringing would slip into her speech bringing a smile to Norman’s face.
    “Good!” was the emphatic reply of the doctor as he slapped on his hat. “Good evening.” And Dr. French took his leave.

    “I’ll just step up to settle Miss Orlena for the night before retiring myself.”
    “Oh, Mrs. O’Connor,” Jenelle protested, starting forward, but Norman held her back. “You’ve been busy ever since you arrived this morning; I can see to Orlena. You must be tired.”
    “And me just finished saying I didn’t want to be sitting down with folded hands,” exclaimed Mrs. O’Connor lifting her hands and looking from Norman to Jenelle.
    “Darling,” Norman chided softly, his grey eyes laughing, “you wouldn’t want Mrs. O’Connor’s first night here to be difficult, would you?”
    Jenelle turned her face to her husband’s with a look of surprise. “No, but—”
    “Then I think it would be best if you let her take care of my sister this evening.”
    For a moment she looked at him, then turned to look at the ranch’s latest addition, and her ready laugh bubbled out though it wasn’t as light as usual. “Of course,” she agreed. “You must have missed Orlena when Norman took her away. I’m just can’t seem to think for I’m so—”
    “Tired,” Norman contributed.
    Not waiting for anything further to be said, Mrs. O’Connor slipped from the room leaving the master of Triple Creek Ranch alone with his wife.
    After the door closed, Norman drew Jenelle over to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. For several minutes neither of them spoke.
    “Norman,” Jenelle said at last, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder, “what am I to do with Mrs. O’Connor? I don’t know how . . . I mean, I’ve never had anyone old enough to be my mother . . . Well, . . . Oh, Norman, why did you ask her to come?”
    There was the sound of tears in Jenelle’s voice and Norman looked down at the face half hidden on his shoulder and pulled her closer. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “Mrs. O’Connor was the only real friend I had when I went to visit Grandmother. I knew she didn’t have any place to go after the house in town was rented, and you needed help. Darling, she knows what Orlena is like, she knows her moods, her attitudes and her whims. Mrs. O’Connor also knows how to cook and keep house. More important, she knows how to pray. You won’t have to tell her much except maybe how to take care of the chickens unless—” He paused in thought, tapped his fingers on his knee and then resumed. “Perhaps it would be good to give the chickens into my sister’s care.”
    Jenelle sat up suddenly, “Norman, she’s my chicken too!”
    “What?”
    “I . . . I mean, my sister,” Jenelle giggled, and Norman laughed.
    “All right, Dear, our sister,” Norman conceded when his laugh was over.
    Jenelle leaned back against his arm. “Norman, if Mrs. O’Connor is in charge of our sister, does the cooking, washing and keeping house, what is left for me? Shall I go out and work in the fields with you and the men? You know I can rope a cow and mend a fence.”
    “Not a chance.” Norman bent his head and kissed the tip of his wife’s nose. “You are to do whatever you feel like doing. If you wish to wash the clothes or cook or sew with Orlena, why do so, but if you are tired or feel a sick headache coming on, then you are to go to bed knowing that the house will continue to run smoothly. How does that sound, Sweet?”
    “Delightful. But I’m afraid it will take some getting used to.” Jenelle sighed softly and nestled in her husband’s arms.
    The clock on the mantel ticked the minutes slowly by, the only sound in the room, until Mr. and Mrs. Mavrich rose to kneel beside the sofa and spend some time in prayer.

    That night Norman lay awake for some time listening to Jenelle’s soft, even breathing beside him and staring into the dark, thinking. He knew Mrs. O’Connor would be a wonderful help to Jenelle and would settle in to the ways of the house easily, but he wasn’t so sure about Orlena’s actions. “I’m never sure how my young sister will act,” he sighed to himself. “She is puzzling and difficult.” Should he leave the adjusting and settling of everything, Jenelle, Mrs. O’Connor, Orlena and the work, to settle itself somehow, or should he try to help? Would he only add to the confusion he felt sure Orlena would cause if he tried to help? It would be easier for him if he let things work themselves out. “But perhaps I should stay,” he mused. “I might help Jenelle if I stayed here, but what about the work on the ranch?”

Thoughts? Questions?

Comments?

P.S. Don't forget to come back next week because it will be Party Time!

Pony Bob & Jan. Quiz

Happy New Year Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!

Yep, it's time for the annual January Quiz! I hope you are read. :) Not only do we have the usual question, but a new one has been added.

Question One: How many books to we have? (Don't count cookbooks, song books or ones we're getting rid of.) Here are some hints to help you. And no, we haven't counted them yet.
In 2009 we had 4,011
In 2010 we had 4,262
In 2011 we had 5,215
In 2012 we had 5,610

Question Two: How many "new" books did I read in 2012? (These are all chapter books. No little kids books counted.) Hints to help.
1994 - 30
1995 - 82
1996 - 54
1997 - 35
1998 - 52
1999 - 76
2000 - 48
2001 - 43
2002 - 18
2003 - 42
2004 - 53
2005 - 75
2006 - 41
2007 - 40
2008 - 58
2009 - 57
2010 - 74
2011 - 77
2012 - ?

Put you guesses as comments and next week I'll give you the correct answers. :)

This story was written many years ago as part of a letter I was writing to a friend. We were pretended it was 1872. :) I hope you enjoy it.

February, 1872
Union Town
Nebraska Territory

    . . . This month has been rather interesting because we have had a visitor, Pony Bob Haslam. He was traveling west, but the storms stopped him. He rode for the Pony Express years ago and has been with us now for two weeks. He is a great favorite especially since he told David that Storm was one of the finest horses he has seen in years. He tells the most interesting stories in the evenings about his life and even a few about the Pony Express. The boys said I have to tell you the story that Mr. Haslam told us last night. And they say I have to write it in story form. I told them that I wasn’t sure I could or that you would be too interested in it, but Ben asked, “She has brothers doesn’t she?” So, I will do my best.

    It was a beautiful mid summer morning in Nevada when Pony Bob turned his steps in the direction of the Pony Express station. He had been a rider for some time and enjoyed it. Of course there were times of great danger and times when great wisdom was needed, but on the whole what could be more exciting then carrying the mail through snow & hail, cold & heat, outlaws & Indians? At the station Pony Bob waited for the rider to come in from the east. Soon he came, and Pony Bob was on his way west. His mustang made pretty good time, and Pony Bob saw no sign of Indians. He had ridden for quite awhile and just up ahead was the Reese River Station. There he would change to a new horse and continue on his way. His first horse was getting worn out. It had already carried him seventy-five miles that day. Just a little farther down the road was the station. Pony Bob blew his horn to let the station master know he was coming, so that he could get a new horse ready. But alas, when he rode up, there was the station master but no horse! “Sorry,” the station master said. “Don’t have any horses ‘round here a’tall. Not even a mule.” “What!” Pony Bob exclaimed.  “What’s happened to ‘em all?” “Gone to fight the Indians,” was the reply. There was nothing for Pony Bob to do but get back on his weary horse and head for the next station.
    Upon arriving at Bucklands, he found much to his great relief, a new rider and horse. But his relief was short lived. Richardson refused to go. Nothing like that had ever happened before. “I weren’t quite sure if he was sick or just plain scared. All’s I know is he dumped the blanket,” Pony Bob later reported. So after switching the mochila (the special pouch that holds the letters) to a fresh horse, Pony Bob mounted and rode off. Thirty miles later, he got a new horse. Then thirty -seven more miles and another change of mounts. Finally he rode the last thirty miles to the next station where Jay Kelly relieved him. Pony Bob had come one hundred ninety miles and was ready for a rest. He went into the station and collapsed on the floor for some much needed sleep.
    A little later, “Hey Bob, wake up!” roused him from a deep sleep. Pony Bob yawned and opened his tired eyes. “Eh,” he said, “What’s up?” “The western rider is, or rather he’s down. He fell off his horse and is too crippled to ride farther. Will you take the mochila, Bob?” Pony Bob yawned again and stretched. “How long have I been sleeping?” “’Bout an hour and a half,” the station master replied as he helped the injured rider to a cot. “Long enough,” Pony Bob said. “Saddle up.” In less than five minutes Pony Bob was in the saddle and was riding back over the same route that he had started on.
    As he neared Cold Springs, the station where just a few hours before he had changed horses, he began to have a strange feeling that all was not right. He saw the station just ahead, so he sounded his horn. Nothing happened. He rode up to the door. All was quiet. Too quiet. Not a horse or a man was to be seen or heard. Pony Bob slowly opened the door and looked in. Much to his horror, he found five men dead. The Indians must have raided the station soon after he was there, killed the men and run off the horses. What should Pony Bob do now? Should he risk everything by riding his weary horse through the country that was alive with the red men? He decided to try, for the mail must go through. As he rode off from Cold Springs, he kept his eyes open for any sign of Indians.
    At Bucklands, an hour or so later, division Superintendent Morley had just ridden in when Pony Bob arrived on his exhausted and foam covered horse. Morley listened with a grim face as Pony Bob recounted the story of Cold Springs. “Lay low until evening.” Morley ordered. “You’ve got no chance of escaping those Indian bands in daylight.” Pony Bob nodded and headed into the cabin to sleep until evening while Morley kept watch.
    Nine hours later, Pony Bob was on a young & highmettled mustang riding off into the gathering dusk, A few miles later he suddenly spotted some Indians! He lay low in the saddle, quietly urging his horse on, but at the same time keeping his eyes on the Indians. They didn’t see him. But a little later, Pony Bob suddenly heard something to his right. Glancing quickly over, he noticed several Indians on horseback coming his way. Just at that moment they also noticed him and began to chase. Pony Bob thought quickly, could his horse outrun the Indians’ mounts? He was pretty sure he could, so leaning forward in the saddle, he urged his horse on faster & faster. After chasing for several miles, the Indians left Pony Bob and disappeared into the darkness.
    Finally, as dawn began to break, Pony Bob arrived safely back where he had started, and another rider took the mochila on. Pony Bob had ridden three hundred eighty miles with only ten and a half hours sleep, and safely delivered the mail.

. . .

And the letter goes on.

What did you think?

Dr. Morgan - Part 8

Good Morning!
I know this is a little later than normal, but I'm on vacation. :) Enjoy!
 
I couldn't decided between TCR and Dr. Morgan until I looked to see how many of each I had written. It turns out that I was nearly out of TCR so, until I write more, I'll post Dr. Morgan. I hope you don't mind too much. :)

Part 8

    “I doubt if she’d even know, if she could remember.” There was another pause. Longer this time. “Yep, I will. . . Thanks Dad. Bye.”
    For several minutes, Justin sat at his desk, leaning his head on his hand, lost in thought. Heaving a deep sigh, he stretched and then relaxed against the back of the chair, glancing at the open door to see intern Philips leaning against the door frame watching him. He grinned.
    “Am I wanted for anything, Philips?”
    Philips shook his head. “No sir. Why don’t you get out of the hospital for a few days? We haven’t had many patients, and Amy is on the mend.”
    “No, I can’t leave now, thanks though.” Justin shook his head. “I’m all right. I should get more sleep now.”
    Philips, seeing that Dr. Morgan was determined to remain, could only nod and walk away.
    For several minutes Justin busied himself with his paperwork and when a knock sounded, he lifted his head and glanced towards the open door. “Wright, come on in. Have a seat,” he invited cordially as the hospital surgeon paused in the doorway.
    “Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.
    “Sure. Paperwork can wait,” and Dr. Morgan pushed the papers to one side.
    Instead of sitting, Dr. Wright leaned down to cross his arms on the back of the chair before the desk. Eyeing his colleague of a moment before he spoke, the surgeon frowned thoughtfully. “Morgan,” he began quickly. “You need a break. You should get out of this hospital and do something relaxing for a change.”
    Justin laughed. “That’s what Philips was just saying. I’m all right. I’ll take a break later.”
    Dr. Wright straightened and gripped the chair back. “Look,” he said, “ever since that girl arrived you’ve worked day and night; catching sleep and food here and there, hit and miss. You need a break even if only for a few hours. No,” he put up his hand as Justin was about to speak. “Let me finish. We’ve all talked about it and there is no reason you can’t get away for a few hours. Philips is quite capable of filling in for you until your return, and Hollend, Douglas and I can handle the few people who might come in. I’m serious, Morgan; you need to get out. Go up to your family’s and have supper, spend the evening, the night if you will. Then come back refreshed.”
    Dr. Morgan sat in silence for some time after Dr. Wright finished. His brows furled in thought while he fiddled with a pen. “I really--”
    “Should go,” a new voice finished his sentence and Dr. Douglas entered the room followed by Dr. Hollend.
    Surveying his three fellow physicians, Dr. Morgan chuckled. “You sure know how to get the job done, don’t you? What would you do if I still said no?”
    Dr. Hollend crossed his arms with a smile. “Well, we’ve talked about handcuffs and delivering you to your father with instructions to keep you for twenty-four hours.”
    At that Justin laughed. “You win. I’ll leave as soon as I finish this last paper.”
    “How soon will that be?”
    “Ten or fifteen minutes at most, I’d guess.”
    “We’ll hold you to it,” Dr. Wright slapped the desk. “So get busy.”

    Breathing deeply of the brisk mountain air, Justin shut the door of his truck and stood for a minute just gazing about him at the bare trees, the tawny grass, the rocky cliffs, an eagle soaring overhead in the pale blue sky; all so peaceful, so quiet, so calming. Slowly he strolled to the front door. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to get away until now. It was good to be out of the four walls of that hospital.
    Justin found Adam and Sara in the living room playing with Danny and Jenny.
    “Hi.” Sara looked up to greet him.
    “Hi,” Justin smiled at his brother who was attempting to sit up while Danny sat on his stomach. “New way to exercise, Adam?” he chuckled.
    “Yeah,” Adam grunted falling back to the floor.
    “How’s Amy?” Sara questioned.
    “She was sleeping when I left. I already told Dad all that she told me.”
    Sara nodded. “And he told us. Didn’t know if there was anything new.”
    Justin shook his head as his mother entered the room.
    “I see they really did kick you out,” she remarked as he kissed her. “When Alex Wright called this morning saying you were going to have supper with us, I wasn’t sure I believed him.”
    “But she cooked enough for you anyway,” Sara put in.
    Justin sat down remarking, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get up again.” The couch was soft and comfortable and, kicking off his shoes just as he used to do, he stretched out with a sigh. “Let me know when supper’s ready if I fall asleep.”
    “Don’t you dare go to sleep now, Justin Morgan,” Sara ordered. “You can sleep in your own bed tonight, but we haven’t seen you for a long time. What if we want to talk?” She threw the pillow she had been leaning on at her brother and he turned on his side and tucked it under his head.
    “Talk away. I’m not asleep yet.”
    Mrs. Morgan had returned to the kitchen and the three young people fell to talking. Soon Mr. Morgan returned home and Danny ran to meet him, letting Adam move from the floor to a chair.
    “Welcome home, Justin,” Mr. Morgan greeted his son. “You are staying the night, aren’t you?”
    “Thanks, Dad. I wasn’t planning on it . . .”
    “Well, plan on it then,” his father said bluntly. “I just talked with Dr. Douglas. He said they’d call you if you were needed before nine tomorrow morning.”
    Justin sat up. “Nine o’clock?” His face was filled with disbelief. “I was planing on returning by nine tonight!”
    Before anything else could be said on the subject, supper was announced.

Thoughts?

Comments?

My Gingerbread House and Lighthouse

Now you all can see the construction of my "gingerbread" house and lighthouse from the beginning all the way until completed. Only, I didn't make my house out of gingerbread, but instead used gram crackers. Having never tried gingerbread (ever) I can't compare the two and tell you which is easier to work with. But, be that as it may, I enjoyed the whole process and hope you all enjoy the pictures.

With icing and my house "laid out"

 I used this recipe for the icing to glue my house together. It worked wonderfully and I only made a quarter of the recipe, since it calls for so much!

Once the icing was made, I put it in a ziplock bag with an icing tip on the corner which I had snipped off. Not only did that "contain" the mess, this icing dries pretty quickly so I didn't have to worry about it all drying up on me.

Gluing the first pieces together!

You can start to see the walls coming together.

Getting ready to add the second row of "crackers."

Working on the points of my house.

It took some doing to cut the gram crackers so that I'd have a sloping roof. The first one I tried to cut broke into lots of pieces. I was able to glue some of it back together. Later on I perfected the cutting. :)

Hmm, trying to keep my side piece on.

Lighthouse work

While the sides of my house dried, I began construction of my lighthouse. That was tricky. I didn't have enough hands to hold all the pieces up. It took a while and a bit of patience.

I had it glued!

The roof and dormer.

Getting reading to add that roof.

I thought it might be tricky to get the roof to stay on, but it really wasn't bad. The glue dried quickly enough to hold it.

The other side and the lighthouse.

One thing I should make a note of for you all, if you make a lighthouse like I did, make sure you add something to support the bottom platform. I neglected to do that (it never crossed my mind) and the evening after I had finished decorating it I walked into the kitchen and noticed it was tipped! Problems! Thankfully there was no storm at sea that night and we were able to wait until daylight to fix the problem. :) I just took off the entire platform, placed a small box inside the square and glued the platform back on. The box was tall enough so that the platform could rest on it.

Cutting a gram cracker for part of the lighthouse.

It was fun designing the place for the light to go. :) Pretzels make great windows. :)

What would you do with all that candy?

Preaparing for the foundation.

And now the siding.

The house with only "plywood" for a roof.

Adding the roof

Would you like to live in this quaint cottage by the sea?

 If it were real?

Decorations up!

I didn't have time to get all the decorations finished that night. I'd already spent nearly all day working on it.

"Calking" the sides.

A Barrel with greenery adds a festive touch to the front porch.

The Lighthouse!

 Once the house was finished, it was time to get to work on the Lighthouse. The bottom was fun and easy to make. I also decided to used another base to set my lighthouse on so that I could get to all sides instead of placing it on the same one as the house.

Working on the upper part.

Finished!

The landscaping was fun: water, rocks and snow.

The back of the house.

The lighthouse has a barrel of greenery too.

An aerial view.

Dusk is settling around and the light has been turned on. Actually the "light" is a battery tea light. The roof of the lighthouse comes off and you can turn the light on or off. I also created a small foil box for the tea light to sit in so that it wouldn't get dirty.

A view from the sea

I hope you all have enjoyed watching the process of the creation of my first real gingerbread house and lighthouse. Did it inspire you to create one also? Would you consider making one next year or are you like my sister and best friends who were amazed at my creation, but said, "Why would you want to spend so much time on something that just sits there? :) Answer: Because it was fun! :D

Merry Christmas!

I'll be back on Friday, will you?

A Christmas Disaster - Part 7

A Lovely Good Morning to all my Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!
And a Merry Christmas!
Can you believe there are only four more days until Christmas 2012? Where has the time gone? 

Yesterday we got snow!!!!! Now it must be winter! Of course most people who live farther up north wouldn't even call what we got "snow." But it was! The first snowfall of the season. We ended up with about a quarter of an inch, but even that was pretty. I got to watch it snow while I ate breakfast. :)

Now for an overview of my week.
On Saturday morning we decorated cookies with the kiddos who had spent the night. Doodle Bug's way of decorating a cookie (he only did one) was to grab the cookie and get icing on his hand, then grab a handful of sprinkles and shake them over the cookie. Then, since he couldn't get all the sprinkles off the icing on his hand, he solved the problem by sticking his hand in his mouth. :)
Sunday was usual. Some music practice before lunch, visiting, playing with my "Baby Doll," and then relaxing at home.
Monday, Mom and I went shopping for some "rocks" and "siding" for my gingerbread house. (By the way, look for a post with lots of pictures of the construction of that house on Sunday or Monday.)
On Tuesday I spend almost the entire day constructing my gingerbread creation. :)
The first half of Wednesday I worked on the gingerbread house too. Finally finished it all! Wow! That was a lot of work but such fun! I'd like to make another one next year, but with someone to help. How many of you have made gingerbread houses?
Yesterday we worked on getting things done and then did presents with my brother and his family in the evening. Doodle Bug LOVED the little flashlight he got. :) And Pickle Puss will be spending hours playing with her paper dolls. However, I think Funny Boy and Goofball will be spending the most time with the new duplo. :)
As for today, it will be busy! We have to clean the house, change the sewing room in to the play room, pack the closets with all kinds of things and get ready for our Open House! I just wish all of my readers could come.

What should I post next Friday? I can't decide between TCR and Dr. Morgan. Anyone have a preference? Maybe I'll get something else ready in time, but it's rather doubtful.

I think you've waited long enough. Here is the final part of A Christmas Disaster. Hope you enjoy it!

A Christmas Disaster

Part 7

Last week . . .
    Somehow Derek managed to get through supper without saying a word. He knew his parents would really wonder if they knew he didn’t have a voice. “And probably Mom would think I’m coming down with something,” he snorted to himself as he tied his shoes and grabbed his coat.

    Never had there been a more nervous group of students gathered backstage than there was that cold, December evening. The house was packed, chairs had been set up in the aisle and people were even standing in the back. The tour buses had returned to the added discomfort of the students.
    Backstage every eye was on Derek.
    “All right,” he whispered, “everyone take a deep breath and let it out. Relax. In a few minutes the orchestra is going to go out and tune. Backstage hands, remember, you’ve got to pay attention. Costume crew, you ready?” Heads nodded. “And actors, if you can’t remember your lines, ad lib. You’ve all done spur of the moment acting. Now’s the time to really do it.” He smiled. It was the first smile they had seen all day. “We can do this, guys. Let’s have a word of prayer and then go out and show everyone a real Christmas play.”
    Hands clasped with other hands and Jerry offered a short but heartfelt prayer.

    The lively strains of Deck the Halls which filled the auditorium caused all heads to turn to their neighbors in confusion. Mr. Sheets, Mr. Hoskins and Mr. Simcox exchanged anxious glances. What was going on? That was not the opening music!
    The curtains opened upon the Gary’s living room just as it had closed the night before. The couple from the city, having been snowed in with the Garys, were sitting together listening to Mr. Gary read The Night Before Christmas, with his children at his feet and his wife in her rocker, in preparation for sending the youngsters off to bed.
    A sudden knock on the door sounded.
    “Now who can that be at this time of night and in this weather?” Mrs. Gary wondered as she rose to answer it.
    It was Mr. Thompson, the carriage driver. “Can’t stay long, Mrs. Gary,” he assured her when invited in. “I just had a package I was asked to deliver. Merry Christmas everyone!” And then he was gone.
    Upon opening the package, a large wooden nativity set was revealed and set up on a low table out of reach of the puppies’ sharp teeth.
    “Oh, Papa!” one of the children exclaimed, “tell us the real story of Christmas. Don’t wait until tomorrow. Please!”
    Mr. Gary complied and the scene faded out to strains of soft music.

    The audience was captivated. No one knew what had happened or even guessed, but this new play was a continuation of the other, so it must have been planned ahead of time. Only Mr. Sheets, Mr. Hocker and their assistants knew otherwise and wondered.

    Mr. Gary’s voice was heard again telling the Christmas story that never grows old. As he spoke, the lights came on in an inn and a knock was heard.
    “Please sir, do you have a room? A small room, anything?”
    “I’m sorry. There is no room. But I have room for your beast in the stable.”
    “Might we stay there too?” The man’s voice was pleading. “Please, we’ve looked everywhere and . . .” his voice faded away as he looked at his exhausted wife.
    The kind innkeeper agreed at once, repeating his apologies about there being no room.

    Next came the shepherds in their field. Many were the astonished looks when it was realized that the sheep were real. When the angels appeared in bright glory, the orchestra began playing Handel’s “Glory to God” while a choir of unseen voices sang with such joy that many eyes filled.
    The shepherds came and then the wise men. When at last all the visitors had gathered in the small, crowded stable with a star shining on it from behind the mountains, the Gary living room once again appeared.
    “. . . But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart,” Mr. Gary concluded quietly.
    All was still for a few minutes and then the rich man from the city cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir. That story used to be read to me every Christmas when I was a child, but when I grew older I thought I had outgrown it. But I realized just now that no one can outgrow it. How can you outgrow such love as that? Love big enough to leave the glories of heaven to be born in a stable with smelly animals and then live and die so that others might live. Such love is beyond my understanding.”
    “It is indeed past our understanding,” Mr. Gary replied. “Shall we kneel here and thank the Lord for sending such a gift to us?”
    Those in the Gary house knelt and Jerry’s voice once again led in prayer. It wasn’t a memorized prayer he prayed, for those words were forgotten. Many in the audience instinctively bowed their heads as well.
    Strains of Joy to the World filled the auditorium as the curtain began to close. No one heard much of the song for the audience was on their feet applauding and cheering, though many had tears streaming down their cheeks.
    As the curtain opened again for the third time, Mr. Gary, known to his friends as Jerry, raised his hands for silence. When it came he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “We’re delighted that you enjoyed this final performance. Some of you may have noticed that it is not the same one you have seen other nights.” A ripple of laughter followed. “It was a last minute thing to put this together and a lot of hard work. But if you enjoyed this play, all the credit goes to our tireless, though now rather voiceless inspirational leader, Derek Marley!” A stunned moment of silence followed this startling announcement before thunderous applause rolled across the room and up on stage. But Derek didn’t appear.
    At last Mia, carrying all three puppies and still in her shepherdess costume, came up to Jerry and whispered to him. Jerry laughed and raised his hands again. “It seems folks that your applause is wasted right now, for Derek has taken the sheep back to their pasture, but Mia has a word for you all. Mia.”
    With a merry grin, Mia looked out at the audience. “Having been Derek’s sister all my life, I know what he’d say. He’d tell you, if he had a voice, that the inspiration for tonight’s play came from these three puppies. Merry Christmas and good night!” Then she fled and the curtains closed. The Christmas disaster had been turned into a success.

 

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