Tag: life

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

Auntie Tyne had brushed her long blonde hair and pulled it into a cute pony tail before they set off for the Harrisons’ house. Rachael had felt like a princess. She hadn’t wanted to take her skirt and blouse and sweater off, so had kept them on for the rest of the day, and at bedtime she’d looked for a place to hang them. Her cousins had peeled off their own clothes and dropped them into a heap on the floor.
When Rachael couldn’t find a spare wire hanger in the small clothes cupboard, she had laid her new garments carefully over the back of the one chair in the room. But Lyssa had immediately swept them off onto the floor, and as much as Rachael wanted to pick them up, she resisted when she saw the ‘I dare you’ look on the nine-year-old’s face.
Rachael’s stomach growled. In the stillness it sounded to her ears like the rumble of the freight trains that passed through Emblem several times throughout the day and night. It growled a second time, and Rachael clutched her abdomen with both hands in an effort to keep it quiet. She didn’t want to wake Lyssa and Lark – they would start pushing her again. She wished she could have slept on a cot like Bobby was allowed to do in the boys’ bedroom. But the girls’ had a bigger bed, so she had been told to sleep with them.
Her stomach would not stop grumbling, and now the hunger pangs made her wince. Rachael was no stranger to hunger. Sometimes, at home, Mommy had not had money to buy enough food for them. It wasn’t their mom’s fault, though. Rachael had seen her go without a meal so that she and Bobby could eat what little there was.
At the farm she and Bobby were never hungry. There had been lots of food on the table, and Auntie Tyne and Uncle Morley had made sure to fill up both her plate and Bobby’s at every meal. The food was good, too, always with generous helpings of the vegetables that Uncle Morley brought in fresh from his garden every day. Just thinking about it made her hunger pangs worse. She’d better think of something else.
But Rachael could not keep her mind off her empty stomach, and she thought about the big breakfast Auntie Tyne had cooked for them before they left for the Harrisons’ house that morning.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

He’s probably just starting out, Joel thought. He guessed that
the doctor was a city person who was using the small community
to get started in the profession, with the intentions of moving to a
bigger city when he had more experience and had paid off some of
his debts from school.
After a brief explanation of the accident he had in the pasture
with the big buckskin, the doctor told him to take off his boot, his
sock, and roll up the leg of his Wranglers. As he leaned forward to
get a closer look, the young doctor asked, “Related to Edward
Hooper?”
“Yes I am. He was my father.”
“Thought so,” the doctor replied as he continued to poke and
prod at the ankle. Joel wasn’t sure if the young doctor was really
examining him or just buying time to think of what to say next.
“Well, Mr. Hooper, it looks like your ankle is on the way to a full
recovery. From what I can tell, nothing is broken. A few more
days and you should be back in the saddle again. How’s the
pain?”
Joel was surprised to hear himself replying, “Not bad.” In fact,
his ankle was hurting like hell.
The doctor, having treated his share of cowboys in his short
career since graduating from medical school, quickly translated
“not bad” to mean “it is hurting like heck, but I’ll be darned if I
admit it to you,” and offered Joel a sample box of Tylenol 3s, “just
in case it hurts you might want to take a few of these.”
With that, the doctor turned to the door, “Have a good day,
Mr. Hooper.”
“Thank you, Doctor. How did you know my father?”
“Mr. Hooper, you might not be aware of it, but not only have
you just been attended to by a doctor but also by the Montana
State Team Roping Champion. Two years in a row now since
coming back home from medical school in Seattle. When I was a
kid here, I did pretty fair at the high school rodeos as well. I roped
off a horse your dad sold me. Even back when I was a kid, my
father always said that there was only one place to go …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Still Waters

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Excerpt

By seven o’clock that night, Tyne had her emotions under control.
She must not sound upset when she called Morley. Should she
refuse to go to church with him if he asked her, as he almost certainly
would? But no, why should she keep giving in? She took her wallet
from her handbag and removed the necessary change for the call.
On her way to the phone she met the house mother hurrying towards
her in the hallway. “Oh, Miss Milligan, there’s a call for you. I
think it’s your father. You may take it in the office.”
Tyne’s heart jumped. “Thank you, Mrs. Edge.” She had to stop herself
from running to the office. Why is Dad calling? What’s wrong?
Has something happened to Mom? Aunt Millie?
“Dad,” she spoke almost before she lifted the receiver, “is something
wrong?”
“No, no, Tyne, sorry if I frightened you. Everyone’s fine.”
Tyne let her breath out on a sigh. “Oh, it startled me, that’s all.
Especially since I talked to Mom just this afternoon.”
“Yes, she told me you have Christmas off and plan on coming
home.”
Something in his tone made Tyne wary. She did not hear excitement
in his voice. He was not calling to say he would be happy to see
her. “Yes. Will that be all right?”
Why did she say it? She had never before had to ask permission to
come home.
“Tyne, please know we’d love to have you home for Christmas.” He
cleared his throat. “But I don’t think it will be wise for you to come at
this time of year. For one thing, they’re predicting a big snowstorm
and blizzard over the holidays.”
Who’s predicting it, Dad? You?
“I haven’t heard that,” she said quietly. A sick, empty feeling began
to settle in the pit of her stomach. Her dad did not want her to come
home for Christmas.
“Well, I heard it, and we would be very worried if you were caught
in it. Those buses aren’t very reliable, you know. You wouldn’t want
to be here, and not be able to get back to Calgary, would you?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Swamped

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young woman, whom Eteo found pleasant and sociable. She was a
Chinese-Canadian whose parents lived in Coquitlam.
Eteo took Jonathan and drove to a pool hall at Broadway and
Ontario where Jonathan had discovered they had one table of European
billiards, a game at which his uncle was a master.
“Will I ever win against you, uncle?” Jonathan asked after Eteo
had taken the third game in a row.
Eteo laughed. “You will when I let you” he answered, and
Jonathan laughed too. They sipped their lattes and played again and
when they had finished, Eteo drove back to the house just as the
cleaning ladies were putting their things away.
For dinner, Eteo suggested a visit to Mythos, a Greek spot on
Lonsdale where he knew the owner and the boys always enjoyed their
meals. It was a fairly new place, and Angelo had done an expert job
decorating the interior since he was already a partner in another
restaurant on Marine Drive. In the kitchen he had a cook whom Eteo
also knew well, and whose special appetizer of mussels was what Eteo
liked the most about the place.
Angelo’s sister, who worked as the hostess, took them to their
table. They were all hungry and fell like vultures on their appetizers
of humus, calamari, and pitta bread as soon as they came. By the time
the main courses arrived, they were almost full, but that only meant
they had plenty to take home at the end of the evening.
Early next morning, with the clock on the night table reading
4:00, Eteo still tossed and turned in bed, unable to go to sleep, his
mind racing through a myriad of thoughts like a crazy monkey on a
big tamarind tree jumping from branch to branch as if in desperate
search for something hidden there. The bedroom was a little too
warm, and his breathing was as loud and irregular as his thoughts.
He often planned his next day while awake in his bed the night
before, so this morning wasn’t any different from others. Fully awake
now, Eteo let his eyes travel around the walls. The window was still
very dark at this time in the morning. Light would come no earlier
than seven, but he felt the need to talk to someone. Who would be
there for him to call and talk right now? The sounds of the house
were regular and steady.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

He Rode Tall

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But Joel had a feeling that even that would be considered a
steal, and if he had agreed, those two would be in a bar before the
end of the day sucking back beer and chirping about how they
took the dude out at Circle H for a ride.
Since he had the briefcase open, Joel thought that now was as
good a time as any to take a closer look at the parentage of his
livestock. After separating out the remaining older mares, he lay
all of their registration papers from the American Quarter Horse
Association in front of him on the kitchen table. Although he
didn’t know it, he was looking at the living history of some of the
greatest breeding ever.
Just like the old mare that he had just sold, the other matriarch
of the remuda was also a daughter of the legendary Doc Bar out of
a Peppy San mare called Peppy Jane. Her own name was Doc’s
Peppy Jane, confirming the identity of the other older mare.
If that kind of breeding was so valuable in a twenty-one-year-old
mare then the daughters had to be equally valuable. Especially if
they were young enough to still be putting colts on the ground.
And as he scanned the papers, that is exactly what he saw. Absolutely
every one of the other ten mares in the remuda were daughters
of either of the original Doc Bar mares that his dad had
brought up from Denver. With only ten mares besides the other
own daughter of Doc Bar, Joel’s guess would be that his dad had
chosen to keep just the absolute best fillies to include in the
broodmare band.
After clearing the table of the registration papers for the
broodmares, he turned his attention to finding the papers for the
three-year-olds that he and Harry were currently training. After a
little more rummaging through the briefcase, Joel found the
papers for each of the dozen three-year-olds. The first one he
spotted was the filly out of the old blonde mare, and sure enough,
it was the pretty palomino he had just finished the morning with;
Joel had a feeling about the way she was handling herself. He had
convinced himself that when he had a chance to look at the
papers that he would discover that the last three-year-old …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Still Waters

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“No, he hasn’t mentioned it to me. Why? Do you think that’s why
your dad is here?”
She shook her head. It was a moment before she answered him.
“I had thought that, but now I don’t. I think I know why he’s here,
Cam. I believe our fathers are trying to set us up for more than a
drive home in the dark.”
Cam glanced at her quickly. “No kidding? I’m sorry, Tyne. Sorry to
embarrass you, that is.”
“I’m not embarrassed, I’m angry. How dare he meddle in my life?”
“Your dad must know you’re about to be engaged to a chap in
Emblem. Why would he try to set you up with me?”
Tyne took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. She wondered if
she should tell Cam the whole story, then decided she would lose
nothing by doing so. “My boyfriend … Morley … is Protestant. Dad
does not approve. In fact, he’s furious about it.”
In the dim interior of the car, she saw Cam nod. “And now,” he
said thoughtfully, “his old friend, Arthur Tournquist, who is Catholic,
calls to say he’s met Jeff ’s daughter. And in the course of the
conversation, Arthur happens to mention that his son is home from
medical school, and bingo! A bulb lights up in your dad’s brain.”
“Exactly.”
They reached the hospital grounds, and Cam drew up at the entrance
to the nurses’ residence. He shut off the motor and turned in
his seat to look at her. “Tyne, I’m sorry this has made you uncomfortable,
but don’t be angry with your dad. I’m sure he means well.
And my dad is as much to blame.”
She sighed and touched his hand where it lay on the seat between
them. “It’s okay, I’ll get over it. It was a lovely evening, and I really
enjoyed meeting your mother. Thanks for bringing me home, Cam.”
In the dim light she could see his sad smile. “Well, as we said the
other day, we may end up working in the same hospital sometime.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” He leaned over and kissed her gently on
the lips.
Tyne did not pull away. Instead, her right arm went up to encircle his
shoulders. Suddenly they embraced, clinging together for a moment,
their cheeks touching. Then she turned from him, opened the car door
and ran into the residence before he could move from his seat.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

The Circle

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Silence takes their thoughts and the surrounding area like when you stop before
the blooming hyacinth and your eyes become teary, or when you stare at the
orange sun at dusk before the sea takes him into her watery embrace, like when
the little chick chirps in the nest and its mother tries to teach it how to grasp the
worm from her beak and your eyes become teary, and you don’t know the
reason. It’s like that. The disappointment is obvious in Hakim’s face.
“When did they find my parents and what did they do with them?”
“The next day when I found out about the bombing, I ordered the search.
They found your father and mother in the rubble, and you as well. Your parents
were buried according to tradition, and I took you into my home.”
“What else happened on those days? Please tell me more about my parents,
about their property, what happened to it, how did the Americans manage to
bomb our home instead of someone else’s.”
“War, my dear boy, is a terrible thing. It brings out the worst in people. It’s
incredible to imagine what people do in times of stress, in times of fear, in times of
desperation. That’s what war does: it affects people in the worst possible way. You
see a brother killing a brother, you see friends who suddenly become the worst of
enemies, all for what, you may wonder, and there is no answer. It is unbelievable
what a person can do in the stress of war, when they don’t have means of feeding
their family, or when they are afraid for their lives, when one finds a rifle thrown to
the side of the road and takes it in his arms. At that moment, he becomes an enemy
of someone else, a killer capable of taking a life. This is why you see civil wars
erupting in every country after an event like this. The whole system is gone—the
security, the police, the courts, the justice system, all the apparatus of the country is
gone. In our case, even today after all this time, there are bombings and suicide
bombers killing people in the hotels, the plazas, even in the mosques. This is what
war creates, my dear boy, and you can only hope war won’t come your way ever
again. As far as what happened to your parents’ house, it’s still there, uninhabited,
still standing half-way; one day we have to address the issue of what to do with it.”
Hakim remembers now what he wanted to ask his uncle since yesterday.
“My uncle, how have you come to know these people, the Admiral and
Jennifer’s father, Matthew?”
Ibrahim laughs lightly.
“When you reach my age,my dear boy, you’ll understand I know a lot of people,
because I have met so many over the years; it is as simple as that. To satisfy your
curiosity I met the Admiral in Baghdad when he was a young officer at the American
Embassy before the days of the first Gulf War and Saddam Hussein. Matthew I met
yesterday, but I know he works for Bevan, who is Matthew’s boss.”
“What job do they do?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Arrows

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I helped him up and guided him to a seat on top of the same barrel
he had supposedly broken. His weight caused the wine to pour out
even faster. Without a word, I turned to Benjamin and offered him a
hand.
“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.”
I smiled, extending my hand further. “I apologize for the push; I
didn’t think I could stop you otherwise.”
His eyes darted from my face to my hand, and he took it with a
grunt. I smiled even more, digging my heels to support his weight as
he stood up. I patted him on the shoulder. I was getting rather good
at applying Bartolomé’s persuasive techniques.
“The barrel must have been damaged already,” I said. “You do
realize it could not have been broken by this little fall alone, don’t
you? Please, don’t hurt him or anyone else again.”
Benjamin put a hand on his dagger and leered at the Indian, who
was already picking up the damaged barrel and loading it onto his
narrow shoulders. He was lean and small, the barrel undeniably big
for him.
I met Bartolomé’s eyes, intense and darkened by the shadow of
his scowl in the dawn’s dim light. The corner of his mouth twitched,
and he gave me an imperceptible nod.
“Back to work!” he bellowed.
I felt ashamed for all of us. It sickened me to realize that every
man among us, even Benjamin, someone who had a tendency to be
jovial, was inclined towards cruelty towards the Indians, as if by
some pre-ordained right.

Soon it was almost time to leave Borburata for the city of El Tocuyo.
We would be a party of ten men on horseback, one hundred Indian
servants, fifty tame Indian warriors and three hundred head of
livestock.
The horse they offered me must have been the oldest quadruped
ever to walk under the sun, and a moody one at that. It glared at me.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

He ran to the first aid clinic next door. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“There’s been an accident on the road,” the medic said.
“What sort of accident?”
“A tractor-trailer jackknifed and went off the road.”
“Anyone else involved?”
“A pickup truck. There’s other help coming from town.”
Ken’s skin crawled. He forced the bile in his throat back down into his
gut and ran back to the lab, yelling through the door to John that he was
going to check on Jessica and her family. He cranked up the truck, his
heart pounding, an unnameable fear rising in his chest. He put his foot to
the floor, the truck careening around potholes and over the rutted washboard
road. About thirty miles down the road he saw the flashing lights.
He pulled up, got out of the truck and ran to the RCMP car parked at the
edge of the road. Below him, at the bottom of the embankment, amid the
jagged broken-up pieces of the semi, the pickup burned. Shaking beyond
control, Ken ran, stumbling and sliding down the steep slope. The young
RCMP officer he had met previously was struggling back up toward him.
He held up his hand. “Don’t go down there!” he shouted to Ken.
Ken stumbled toward him.
“Don’t go down there!” He yelled, again.
The officer grabbed at Ken’s shirt. Ken spun away. “Is the pickup blue?”
he shouted.
“I don’t know.” The officer said.
“How many people are in the truck?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many people in the god damned truck?” Ken screamed.
“Three, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?”
“Don’t go down there, the officer pleaded. “Please don’t go down there.”
Ken ran down; tripped, fell, rolled, picked himself up and scrambled
down. He stopped when he hit the wall of heat bursting from the truck.
The flames were dying; the truck was gutted. But what he saw was a vision
he would spend the rest of his life trying to erase from his mind – a scene
that would come to him in nightmares over and over, until sleep meant
nothing but reliving the carnage – pieces of charred bodies inside the truck
– one of them still wearing a piece of fringed and beaded leather jacket.
I have spent so much of my life trying to contain these feelings – to deal
with these things. For a person of that age I had seen far too much death. I
was born to it – born in it. Anyone looking at me – coming from the right
side of the tracks, from a privileged family – anyone who would imagine the
sort of life a person like that would have would be completely off the mark.
So, I have to deal with these feelings very severely because I can’t make the
pictures go away. They don’t go away.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Arrows

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“I’ll talk because the time for our farewells is near,” I said, “and I
don’t want us parting like this.”
“Try me.”
He turned to look at the ship. His aftershave aroma of lavender
and storax, mixed with our sweat, filled my nostrils and sharpened
my senses. Watching him reminded me of my own looks, a sort of
discovery. Over the years, although he was four years older,
Bartolomé and I had become more alike, despite the inequality in
weight and his hooked nose. The main difference was the ripple of
his strong muscles visible under his shirt. Sometimes it was like
watching the movements of a powerful horse.
When I had come to board the ship, we were shocked to see each
other again. We always wrote and knew everything about the other,
but six years had passed since our last encounter. He took me by the
shoulders and looked me over from head to toe. Apparently
satisfied with my growing into manhood, he patted me on the
shoulder and grabbed my tonsure, shaking me softly before
squashing me in a bear hug.
Now we would soon be taking our leave of each other, and only
God knew when we would be reunited. I realized I was staring at
him and turned to face the sea.
Illuminated by the rising moon, the ship swayed, two lanterns
glowing on the castle decks. I watched the white spume of the waves
breaking, their hissing claim on the beach. The breeze carried the
voices of the men still sitting around the fire.
“Why the hell did you flog yourself?” Bartolomé asked.
“To purify my heart.”
“Purify your heart? Salvador, you haven’t done a bad thing in
your life!”
I snorted, shaking my head and reaching back to pull at my habit
and detach it from my wounds.
“I beat him,” I said. “I beat Pánfilo. He was having his way with a
girl. She wanted to resist. I don’t know what came over me. I
couldn’t believe my eyes, and before I knew it I was beating him up.
I didn’t mean to.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522