image from Stencil
It
occurred to me that I've never done a giveaway attached to my blogs.
Because they can be fun for writers and readers, I am going
to do one this week from this blog. Because my recently published book, Red Hawk Christmas,
has a Christmas aspect, and the one I am writing now also does, if you want to be entered, comment below as to what is your favorite Christmas tradition. Because this is a first, for a blog that routinely doesn't get many comments (okay, often none lol), I plan to keep the entry open a full week until the 22nd, when the next excerpt comes along. I will then draw one tradition-- randomly, as how can any Christmas tradition be better than another.
The winner will get a $25 Amazon gift certificate. I will be notifying that winner here on the 22nd; so be sure and come back to see if it's you, as you will need to email me the email you use at Amazon to get your credit. I've won credits before and they can be used right away or held for something big.
The following snippet is from the book I am writing, which should be out early in December-- I hope (busy times right now). It is set in Tucson, 1905. The heroine has come from Boston to find her daughter. Culture shock, on many levels, is about to hit Frederica. With a Western hero, the novella will get to Christmas, Southwestern style, and be quite a ride along the way for this city gal (no, gal is not something she's ever been called-- before).
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Frederica
Jamison Lawrence Windsor descended the steps from her private car to the Tucson
platform. Looking around the city, she was unsure what to make of what seemed a
foreign environment. This was a week before Christmas. Where was the snow? The
Christmas trees? There were some decorations, a few windows with greens, but
nothing like the lavish seasonal décor in Boston before she had departed.
She felt
dusty, more than a little wilted from days on the train where even her private
car did little to lessen the misery. Would anyone ever fix the tracks out in
this godforsaken part of the country? Her sixty-year old back might never
recover.
A porter
carried her bags from the car but left them stacked beside her. She looked at
him with shock as he walked off. How was she supposed to get them from the
platform to her hotel room? She went into the depot to see a bored looking man
behind a desk. “I need to get myself and my bags to the Santa Rita Hotel.” He
looked at her and yawned. “Naturally, I would pay for the assistance,” she said
lifting her receptacle to indicate her source of funds.
He turned
and looked behind him. “George, can you help this lady?”
A skinny old
man looked around the clerk and nodded. “You need a buggy?” he asked.
“How many
blocks would it be?” She knew she looked old. Did she also look incapable of
walking a few blocks?
She saw them
both consider. “About five or maybe six,” the skinny man said. He looked at the
other man, rubbing his head. “Think it might be seven?”
“More’n
likely.”
So they
didn’t know. She regretted allowing Wilson, her majordomo to remain in El Paso to
visit with his family. She had thought the worst of her travel would be over by
then.
“I will need
help getting my bags there,” she said thinking neither of the gentlemen looked
more capable of carrying them than she was. Perhaps she did need a buggy. Did
Tucson even have hacks?
“May I help you, ma’am?” a
deep voice asked from behind her. She turned to see a tall, black-haired man
with gray in his hair and mustache. He swept off his hat and smiled. Good Lord,
was that a gun on his hip?
