Tag: writing

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

brush not ten feet beside him. In an instant, he realized that,
with the wind blowing away from them, the deer didn’t hear or
smell the horse and rider headed their direction. No sooner had
the deer fled in a scurry of dirt and brush than the buckskin
jumped, nearly out of his skin. One moment Joel was sitting solidly
on the back of the buckskin and the next they were both ten
feet to the right, with Joel experiencing a launch akin to take-off
on a NASA space mission.
With a power that he could hardly imagine possible, the young
horse had rocketed forward, leaving Joel behind. In actual fact, it
would have been better if he did get left behind, but Joel’s left boot
stuck in the stirrup. And with the force of the jump, his boot had
slipped through the stirrup. Now he was being dragged at breakneck
speed across the rock-strewn hillside. His foot was supposed
to slip out of the boot and free him from danger but what
was supposed to happen just didn’t.
Spooked by the deer, the buckskin gelding blasted up and out
of the coulee, racing to the barn. Joel knew that this couldn’t last
for long. There were just too many boulders between there and
the barn, and the odds that he would hit at least one were pretty
good unless he did something in a hurry as he bounced along on
his back, dragged by the horse and only inches from the pounding
hooves. In a flash, Joel imagined his exposed cranium hitting a
granite boulder at twenty-five miles per hour. With one cry he
asked, pleaded, begged, and commanded the horse to stop with a
desperate “Whoa!”
As a boy, his dad had told Joel that anyone could stop a horse,
sooner or later, by pulling back on the reins, but his dad showed
him an unusual technique—dropping the reins to the horse’s
neck and asking it to whoa. Right here, right now, he was glad
that he had worked so hard with the gelding on exactly this
maneuver. But practicing in the round pen and the arena was one
thing; Joel was about to discover how effective his training would
be in the wide-open space of the pasture.

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

Arrows

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Excerpt

The day of our departure came too soon. Entire families gathered
at the plaza to bid farewell to their most respectable sons. After a
year of preparation, don Diego de Losada had managed to convince
one hundred and fifty men to take their chances with him. No small
achievement, considering their prospects for survival.
Our expedition was bound for the province of Caracas—where
the town of San Francisco had briefly existed—and we were
destined to rebuild it in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ for our
most gracious king, His Sanctified Catholic Majesty, Don Felipe II.
Less than five men out of each of the previous two expeditions into
the area had been left alive to tell the tale.
I had heard stories about battles, about how I would be lucky to
be killed at once. Cannibals liked to tie a Christian to a tree while
they danced in circles, possessed by the devil, chopping pieces out of
him every time they came about, cooking his parts under his nose or
even eating them raw, shooting arrows at him until his blood had
drained, blood they would collect in little bowls and drink as they
danced, smearing it on their bodies, spitting it on the ground.
One chief in particular, Guacaipuro, who commanded the Indian
forces of the valley of Caracas, put the fear of God into Spanish and
tame Indians alike, for it was said he had no mercy for either. All of
the other chiefs pledged their allegiance to him. On the land of one of
these, the settlement of San Francisco had been established almost a
decade ago, but Guacaipuro had burned it to ashes. It was to that
place we were heading.
Dressed in their feathered morions, coats of mail and cloaks,
twenty men on horseback under don Francisco Ponce’s command
melted stoically like butter in the sun, to be accompanied by fifty
harquebusiers with their pouches heavy with stone munitions,
eighty men on foot, eight hundred servants, two hundred beasts of
burden, several thousand pigs, four thousand sheep—all intended
to secure the beginnings of a new city.

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

Just as they had spent that first evening on the street, Jennifer and Volodya spent the next afternoon mostly on the street, in the peculiar privacy that Soviets find in large crowds. She bought him cognac and cigarettes at Beryozka the foreign currency souvenir store. He bought her Russian language books, stories of the city, and corrected her sentences. She showed him her contact lenses and how they worked. He marvelled. Such things were unheard of in the Soviet Union, he told her, but he had seen some Japanese tourists use them. That night Jennifer returned to the hotel, Volodya to his home.
The next day as they were passing the Hotel Europe, another accommodation reserved solely for visitors from the west, he grabbed her hand, glanced around to see if they were being followed and walked into the lobby, saying in English, “I want to show you something. Go along with me to the restaurant.” They strolled to the elegant restaurant portal and waited in the foyer. There was no one in sight.
“Hey, if you’re pretending to be an American, you’re holding your cigarette all wrong,” she whispered. “Don’t curl it under your hand. Just let it sit between your fingers. Like so.” She surreptitiously straightened his fingers, rearranging the cigarette. He grinned at her. She felt the warmth of the smile and let her hand linger on his.
“Thank you,” he said in English. “Now look over at that table under the light. I will not point. You see?” Jennifer peered. “See the centre arrangement? That is a microphone—how they listen. Only the ones with that arrangement—and some of the others there, that table and that one.”
Jennifer stared but couldn’t see the difference in the various tables.
“How do you know?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Still Waters

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with pleasant features which, at this moment, looked grim. But he
smiled reassuringly when he saw the fear on the faces of Carol Ann’s
parents. He nodded to Tyne, then turned to them.
“Mr. & Mrs. Shaughnessy, I’m Dr. Kendall. Your daughter will be
fine. She’s in the recovery room, but you can see her as soon as she
comes to the ward.”
Mr. Shaughnessy, who had risen to his feet, took a deep breath. His
voice was hoarse. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s such a relief.” He hesitated,
glanced at his wife, then turned again to Dr. Kendall. “Do you
know what caused so much bleeding? Is it likely to happen again?”
Dr. Kendall’s eyes opened wide, and for a moment he stood immobilized.
Tyne held her breath. Then, appearing to regain his composure,
he stepped further into the room. “I’m sorry. I see you were
not aware that Carol Ann was pregnant.”
“Oh, my God.” Mrs. Shaughnessy’s hands flew to her face.
Mr. Shaughnessy stood rigid, his face drained of colour. “What are
you saying?” His eyes, two deep pools of anger and shock, did not
leave the face of the man in front of him. “What are you saying?” he
repeated, his voice rising.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Shaughnessy,” Dr. Kendall’s
face registered genuine regret, “but I’m afraid Carol Ann went to
someone to have the pregnancy terminated. Whoever it was did only
half the job. She could have died.”
Mr. Shaughnessy sat down heavily and buried his face in his
hands. His wife broke into uncontrollable sobs as Tyne held her, her
own heart breaking. 
Carol Ann came to the ward from the recovery room at eleven
o’clock. Tyne remained in the waiting room while Mr. & Mrs.
Shaughnessy went in to see their daughter. She thought they might
wish to speak with her before they left. But when they came out
of the room, grim-faced, they passed the open door of the waiting
room without a glance in Tyne’s direction.
Feeling light-headed from lack of sleep and food, she made her
way to the nurses’ station to speak to Sister Mary Louise. “May I see
Miss Shaughnessy now, Sister?”

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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distance away observing him. When they saw that he had noticed them,
they came to sit beside him. The man said, “My mother says you are a
very quiet Kabluna.”
“Maybe all Kablunat are quiet,” he said.
The man translated for his mother and said, “She says that all other
Kablunat that she has known are noisy. They talk a lot.”
“Maybe I don’t have much to say,” he replied. “Maybe I don’t know
very much.”
When Ken questioned the old woman about the Inuksuit she told him
a story that began a long, long time ago when there were very few human
beings. They travelled over the vast land in small family groups, following
the herds of caribou that were the source of their food, their tents,
their clothing, and their utensils. They could not afford to deplete their
energy by chasing the food. Instead, they made stone human beings and
called them Inukshuk, which means, like a person or acting in the place
of a person.
The people placed the Inuksuit in V-shaped formations. The caribou
with their poor eyesight, thought the Inuksuit were hunters and so it required
only a very few people to herd them into a trap. The closer they
came to the end of the V, the closer together the Inuksuit were placed.
At the point of the V, hunters hid behind boulders while women
and children lay on the ground beside the Inuksuit. As the caribou approached,
the women and children jumped up, waved their arms, and
danced about, to give the appearance of many, many hunters. The caribou
would then stampede to the end of the V, which was usually at the
junction of a lake and a river. When the caribou plunged into the lake,
the hunters hidden behind the boulders would jump into their kayaks
and paddle after them, spearing them in the water. Then they would haul
them back to shore where the entire family, even the children, would
clean and gut the animals.
Inuksuit also took on many other shapes, the old woman said. The one
on the river’s edge where they were sitting was a fishing Inukshuk. She
knew this because it was topped with a smooth stone taken from the riverbed.
It indicted that the fishing was good here. Other shapes had other
meanings and the configurations of Inuksuit had meaning also.
To my mind, what I was hearing sounded like language but they didn’t
write the language on a piece of paper – they wrote it directly on the land.
And I was beginning to get the picture of absolute practicality. Here you
could live with minimum technology if you knew how. To think that you
could direct an entire way of life by putting a few stones together just so,
so that other people coming would be able to read the significance of these
things. The degree of sophistication of this began to seep into me and I realized
there was much to learn here. And this way of life was like the people

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

“Yeah.” Frankie smiled. “Movies. Look it up. It’s going places.”
“I shall.”
“Have a good day, Eteo,” Frankie said as his phone rang again
and he walked off to answer it.
Eteo had met Frankie when they both worked for Yorkshire Securities,
one of the solidest firms in Vancouver. He had known Henry,
Frankie’s brother, first, and through Henry he had met Frankie, who
had risen from a junior broker there to being one of the big wheels
in downtown Vancouver.
Frankie had important contacts all over, which meant he could
raise huge amounts of money for any deal he thought was good. Eteo
knew nothing about the film industry, but if Frankie said Lionsgate
Entertainment was going places, Eteo knew he should look into it.
He walked toward the 22nd Street dock. The water was beautiful
again, with small swells washing over the rocks on the shore and
making the sea weed and barnacles that covered them shimmer.
Countless sea gulls circled and swooped above calling out strange
messages that only gulls understood. Their screeching voices always
struck Eteo as almost out of this world. ey seemed to inhabit a
world of wonders and exaggerations. Did Frankie, who had le the
resource sector to get involved in the film industry, inhabit another
world of wonders now?
Eteo knew that a lot of brokers followed Frankie wherever he led.
They all wanted a piece of whatever action Frankie had. At one time
there had even been rumors that Frankie controlled Yorkshire Securities.
He had certainly seemed to have the biggest say in everything
the firm got into. Then the rumors were that he had left the firm to
develop something totally his, a company from scratch. Could this
Lionsgate Entertainment be the one? Eteo always admired people who
started from the bottom and became leaders in their field. Frankie
was such a man, and Eteo promised himself to look into Lionsgate as
soon as he could.
His eyes were drawn to a runabout coming under the Lions Gate
Bridge and speeding toward the outer area of English Bay. Runabouts
were used as water taxies to ferry harbour pilots, who by law were
assigned to command the vessels in and out of the harbour.

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

Water in the Wilderness

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Thank goodness for that.” She took a sip of coffee then put her cup down and sighed. “Working for Dr. Merkel has been good for him. He came home two days ago more animated than we’ve seen him since Barry died. He’d help deliver a calf that was coming backwards, he said.”
Tyne smiled. “We could have used him on the farm the other day.” And she related the details of Jezebel’s ordeal to her mother, not neglecting to mention her part in it, and how Morley had gotten after her for foolishly entering the pen.
“Well, I guess you deserved it. I’m glad someone is looking out for my headstrong daughter.”
Tyne wrinkled her nose, and they both laughed, but Tyne quickly sobered.
“How is Jeremy then? Do you think he’s getting better?”
Emily looked beyond Tyne to the living room, and took a deep breath. “I think so; that is, I hope so. The trouble is, your dad doesn’t have much patience with him. He thinks Jeremy should just snap out of it.”
Tyne toyed with the muffin on her plate. Oh yes, that was so like Jeffery Milligan – just buck up and get over it. But she wondered if it was simply her dad’s reluctance to show any weakness on his part – stiff upper lip, and all that. Lately, she had been inclined to allow him the benefit of the doubt.
She looked up. “Morley would like Jeremy to help him with the harvesting this weekend. Do you think he will?”
“Oh my yes, I think so. At least, he certainly enjoyed it last year, and it will give him a lift. Tell Morley thanks for thinking of him, dear.”
“I will. And Mom, I want you to know that Morley and I have been praying for Jeremy.”
Emily smiled and squeezed Tyne’s hand where it lay on the table. “Thank you, Tyne. I knew you would be.”

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

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

The Circle

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Hakim starts getting jittery and shows signs of being ready to go, although
Talal doesn’t seem to pay attention to the signals. Jennifer wants to go with
Hakim to his apartment and stay overnight and Emily wishes Jennifer and
Hakim would go, without Talal, so she might take him upstairs to her bed and
show him what it means to be sexually hungry. Yet, they all sit around and talk
for another half an hour, playing the game people call the waiting game as Emily
becomes interestingly aroused with each minute.
“I think it is time to go,” Hakim says, looking at Talal, who doesn’t seem to be
ready to comply.
“Mom, I’ll go with Hakim. I’ll get my things ready, okay?” Jennifer takes her
mom and Hakim by surprise.
“I don’t know, sweetheart, don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Emily
realizes her wish will become reality.
“Yeah, I do, but I’m going to get my things ready; I’ll go to work from
Hakim’s, no big deal. I’ll take your car.”
Talal relaxes with Emily knowing that after the two go he’ll really have the
time of his life. He imagines her breasts bouncing up and down as she rides her
hunger on top of him.
“I’m in on hurry, my friend,” Talal turns and says to Hakim. “I don’t have to
work tomorrow. The night is still young.Howabout another glass ofwine, Emily?”
Emily gives him the best smile ever and gets up and fills their glasses with wine.
She gives him the glass and he caresses her hand in a way only Emily notices.Hakim
is wondering what’s going on and how far Talal is going to take this.
Jennifer comes downstairs and the two are ready to go. They say goodnight,
and walk through the basement to the family garage. They take Emily’s car and
drive away.
Talal moves closer to Emily and takes her hands in his, her hands tremble.
She knows what comes next, although she likes to be taken by the hand and that’s
exactly what Talal does. They walk slowly up the stairs kissing and caressing.
Her bed welcomes them with open arms, as their sexual pleasure heats up
slowly but steadily, Emily is happy once more on top of him, her breasts
bouncing. He lets her enjoy the climax of her orgasm as he feels the sensuality
taking him over as well. Emily is loud in her moaning, breathing fast, and having
very strong convulsions at the top of her satisfaction.
In the midst of their sexual climax, the phone rings.
Emily looks at the display screen: it’s Matthew. She wonders for a moment
whether to take the call or not. She looks at Talal, and he knows who is on the
phone by seeing her reaction. He nods at her to take the call. She lifts the receiver.
“Hello, Matt,” she says, her breathing still a bit excited.

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

Still Waters

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be the reason for Curly’s depression? Both Tyne and Moe had been
happy about the blossoming friendship between their roommate
and the medical intern. Curly had made no secret of her infatuation
with him.
“You’re not insensitive, Tyne. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just
don’t want to talk about him.”
“I understand. Of course you don’t.” Then she added with an attempt
at jocularity, “Men! They aren’t worth talking about, anyway.”
Curly did not reply and they walked on in silence until Tyne looked
at her watch. “Hey, it’s almost seven o’clock. What say we run down
to the dairy and get an ice cream cone? My treat. Then, I’d better try
to catch forty winks before duty calls.”
Curly looked up and smiled. They linked arms and started down
the street in the fading September light. 
Two days later, Tyne returned to the residence at eight o’clock in
the morning to find Carol Ann just getting out of bed.
“Hey, Curly, it’s your day off. What’s your hurry? Are you going
home for the day?”
Curly shook her head as she tied the belt of her housecoat. “No,
I have a few things to do downtown. Mom and Dad are away, and I
don’t want to go home to an empty house.” She picked up her towel
and headed down the hall to the washroom.
Later as Tyne crawled into bed, Curly, dressed in a tartan skirt
and yellow pullover, went out to the cupboard in the corridor and
returned with her coat over her arm.
“See you later, Tyne. Don’t know what time I’ll be back, but I won’t
wake you when I come in.”
“I know you won’t, not intentionally, anyway. But don’t worry
about it; I’ve been sleeping better this last week.”
“Bye then, pleasant dreams.” She hurried out the door, closing it
softly behind her.
Tyne frowned as she settled under the covers. Curly appeared extra
cheerful this morning. But something was not quite as it seemed.
Tyne could not put a finger on it, but something felt wrong. She
wished she had offered to go downtown with her friend. She could
have slept later, through the supper hour if necessary. But it was too

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