Susanne Matthews's Blog, page 7

The Challenge: Staying Safe and Writing Romance in the Covid 19 Era of Social Distancing

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Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

The reality of March 20, 2020, is a million miles away from what I had anticipated, what I had hoped for. Gone are the carefree days of shopping as a means of getting steps in, having coffee with friends and chatting about nothing, even hugging and old friend or shaking hands.

My mother is in a long term care facility, and I can’t see her or visit her. Is she safe there? All I can do is pray because at 92, she’s not likely to recover if she gets sick. One son is in Norway where there are over 1800 cases, and I can only pray he and his wife and daughter stay safe and healthy. Our other son lives two hours away

form us here in Ontario with its 250 cases, and even then I can only do the same, while my daughter lives less than fifteen minutes from me, and yet I hesitate to see her, her spouse, and my grandchildren. W[image error]hy? Because my husband and I are both in the highest risk group. Over 65, him with heart disease and me with asthma.  We were making plans to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary next year, and now instead of making plans, I’m praying both of us survive Covid 19 to have an anniversary. Every day brings a new reality into our lives. How foolish and complacent we’ve been, taking so many things for granted. 

So, as I stay informed and avoid speculation favoring real news as my source of information, I find myself unable to write for the first time since I began writing in 2012. Why? Because essentially, despite the historical, suspense, or fantasy elements in my stories, I write romance. In February, I finished two new stories, one, Twist of Fate,  a historical romance that is part of a new multi-author series called The Golden Legacy, due out in May, and another a short chick lit story called Tequila Sunrise part of a Summer Shorts anthology set for release in June. I’ve started working on another story, The Blue Dragon designed to be part of a Fortune’s Favor Box set, due out  July, but I’ve hit a brick wall. How do you write contemporary romance in the Covid 19 era of social distancing?

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Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

While there is very little sexual content in most of my novels, my characters do meet in person, talk face to face, hug, hold hands, even kiss, and if they do get physical, that happens too, but how will that occur in an era where schools, workplaces, restaurants, bars, and coffee shops, gyms, movie theaters and live theaters, even places of worship are closed? There are no sporting events taking place right now, many of them canceled indefinitely. National parks, campgrounds, and even playgrounds are off-limits since the corona virus can live for an extended period outside of the human body.  Hell, in China, there have been reports of dogs infected by their hosts. Concerts, wedding, even funerals are being canceled, and travel anyplace is a no-no. Stay home. Self-isolate. Avoid others. We live in a very different world, people, one most of us are not prepared for. So how can people meet, date, fall in love?

For months, maybe years, parents have been complaining about kids and adults with their noses on their phones, on their computers, or watching television instead of communicating face to face. Now we’ve done a 100 degree flip. For how long, no one really knows, but the odds are it will be longer than 14 days. 

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Photo by Oladimeji Ajegbile on Pexels.com

The Internet has become a lifeline, a way to stay in touch with friends, family, and loved ones. One Canadian province is investing in tablets so that the elderly can keep in touch–of course, I don’t know who will teach them to use them, but that’s another problem.  Most Canadian cellphone companies are waving data overage fees too, so kids can stream movies and music. So will the Internet dating app we’ve considered dangerous as we don’t really know who we’re talking to become the only way to meet people? Will Face-time, Messenger video, Skype, You Tube, and other such electronic apps be our only way to stay in touch?

As an introvert, social distancing isn’t really all that hard for me. I spent years as a teacher working with adults and kids every day. I cherished my time alone. So why does being cut off from human contact bother me so much now?

The truth is, I need people more than I ever thought I did. People to talk to, laugh with, people to observe for story ideas. I watched an episode of NCIS last night where McGee had writer’s block. Before he could do anything about it, he realized a crazed fan was behind a series of murders regarding the incomplete manuscript he was working on. Like McGee, I base my characters on the people around me, on the situations, I see and observe. Suddenly, my source of inspirations has dried up.  I hesitate to write a story that goes against the current need for social distancing. Instead, I’m going to create a new genre–modern historical. I will set my books back in the past, say 2 to 20 years ago, in this century, but during the days when people could touch. And then, if I need to write something contemporary, I will have to figure out how romance can flourish in the age of Covid 19. 

Do you have any suggestions? I would love to hear them. 

Tuesday Tales: From the Word FINGERNAIL

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Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. We are days away from the official start of Spring. Are you ready for it?

[image error]Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog that invites you into the inner thoughts of a select group of writers as they work on their novels. This week, we have a word prompt, FINGERNAIL, which means our posts will be 400 words long. I continue with my historical romance suspense, The Price of Courage.

Lucien scowled. That logo was familiar since the French West India Company had taken control of the fur trade after the Compagnies des Cents Asssociés had its charter revoked by the king last year. Didn’t Guy suspect they might be behind the plan to destroy the settlement?

Knowing neither he nor Okwaho would sleep in a dead man’s bed, Lucien retraced his steps, the sheet of paper held tightly in his fist, his fingernails leaving imprints in the brittle paper.

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Photo by lalesh aldarwish on Pexels.com

Stepping off the ladder, he entered the cells, looking for anything that might identify the men who’d been prisoners here. Nothing. Moving into the kitchen, he discovered someone had ransacked it, removing whatever foodstuffs it had once held.

“Maudit merde,” he cursed, his teeth gritted.

No one had sickened and died here. The story the fake Bouchard had given him had been a cover up for a prison break and murder, but why now in the dead of winter? Of course, it could’ve been planned weeks, even months, earlier. What had tipped the odds in their favor? Why choose to leave at this time of year?

Since the house was built similarly to most farmhouses, Lucien shoved the heavy kitchen table aside and lifted the woven rug covering the floor. As expected, he found a trap door leading down to what was a storage area. Opening the trap door, he angled the candelabra into the dark and expelled the breath he’d been holding. No bodies. So where were they? Unlike the kitchen, none of the supplies had been taken. In addition to food, there were heavy coats, scarves, tuques, and boots, enough for at least four men, which begged the question where were the others, and why hadn’t Bouchard and his men availed themselves of these riches? Obviously they’d left in a hurry. Leaning back, he let the door fall into place once more. Okwaho could have a look tomorrow and see if any of it might be of use to them. While he would never steal from anyone, taking what could be of use to the living from men long dead could hardly be considered a crime.

The door opened and the Mohawk entered, dragging the toboggan inside, the sled holding not only their supplies but enough wood to see them through the night.

Thanks for visiting. On Tuesday and later, don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Tuesday Tales: From a Picture.

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Good morning, and welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog where a select group of writers let you take a peek at their works in progress. Each week, we incorporate a word prompt or a picture prompt into our writing. This week we have a picture prompt, which limits the scene to 300 words.

I continue with my historical romance suspense, The Price of Courage, Book Two in the Canadiana Series. Here is the picture I chose.

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Enjoy!

Lucien scowled. They’d encountered four men on the trail and had found two extra bodies at the farm. There had been six men caged here, but how had they escaped and where were their keepers?

Okwaho sniffed the air, bent to examine the interior of the fireplace, and stepped back.

“There are bloodstains over here,” he indicated the floor. “This chimney is clear. I will bring in the toboggan and get a fire going while you search the place. Nugoomee has prepared a dish of ground moose meat and preserved vegetables for our dinner. I will bake bannock to go with it.”

“Good idea. We’ll leave the outbuilding until morning.” The mournful howls of the wolves split the evening silence. “The sooner we’re settled inside with heat, the better.”

Okwaho nodded, opened the door, and went out.

Lucien picked up the candelabra and carried it over to the cells, all of them open, but no sign of the key that had secured them. He bent and examined the lock more closely. Scratch marks. Something had worked away at the mechanism. Glancing around, he saw a rusted nail on the floor under one of the beds, the lock on its fetters equally scarred. One of the prisoners had managed to free himself and had released the others, but to do so, he had needed the keys. To get those, he would have had to kill his jailer, hence the bloodstain Okwaho had found.

Climbing the ladder to the loft, he found three beds, two of which had bloody sheets. Hanging on a peg above them were two unfamiliar uniforms and a gentleman’s coat.

Lucien stepped over to the coat and searched through the pockets, pulling out a sheet of paper, noting it bore the seal of the French West India Company.

That’s it for today.

Thanks for visiting. On Tuesday and later, don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Book of the Month: Desert Deception Only 99 cents or Free in KU

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Photo by Valeria Boltneva on Pexels.com

It’s March 2020, no denying that, but is it really spring? Hard to tell. Mild days, cold days, snow alerts. It’s a vicious circle.

For this month’s Book of the Month, I’ve chosen Desert Deception, something to bring the heat into your lives.

This novel has an interesting background. Parts of the beginning were published as Coming Home when I wrote in partnership as Misty Matthews. When the partnership was dissolved, I acquired the  rights to it. When we’d written the book, we’d intended for it to be a series, but we ended the partnership before that could happen. So, knowing where I wanted the story to go, I took what I needed from Coming Home a contemporary romance, and added the new material and the suspense need to turn it into a Romance Suspense novel.  The end product also gave me a chance for some unique research on Arizona’s Superstition Mountains.

This month, Desert Deception is only 99 cents or free to read in KU.

The Blurb:

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Romance Suspense

Seeing is believing, or is it?

When high-powered Santa Fe attorney Casey Stevens reluctantly returns to Fortune for Gold Rush Days, she is drawn to Cole Walker Junior, but he is no longer the shy, quiet boy she recalls. Then again, Cole isn’t the only one who has changed. The town may be celebrating its past, but someone is trying to destroy its future. A hit and run accident leaves Fortune’s only lawyer in a coma, forcing Casey to choose between helping innocent people and running away once more. Can she face the demons of her past or will they destroy her this time?

Cole Warner has a secret identity, one he’s determined to protect at all costs. The police officer, volunteer firefighter, and part-time store owner, is also popular western novelist, CJ Coleson, who uses Fortune and its people as the inspiration for his books. Having Casey walk into his life turns it upside down. When someone starts using the murders in Cole’s books to stage a killing spree of their own, keeping his secret may be too costly, but admitting the truth could ruin any chance they have for a happily ever after.

As the bodies pile up and the buildings burn down, Casey and Cole have to work together to stop a madman with gold fever before more people die. The answer lies on Superstition Mountain or is it all a desert deception?

 

An Excerpt:

Cole shook Casey gently, hoping he could mask his concern. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. If I let you rest any longer, you’ll miss curfew.”

She opened her eyes, blinked sleepily and then sat up quickly, her teeth gripping her lower lip in horror, her eyes wide open.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that,” she stammered, her cheeks red in the LED light spilling from the flashlight. “Please don’t say anything to CJ. It wasn’t the story. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. I had to burn the midnight oil at work to get this time off, and I guess I was just so relaxed and…”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I was dozing, too. Besides, if you were comfortable enough to nod off in my presence here, knowing how you feel about the area’s residents, then that’s a compliment. Let’s get this picked up and head back into town.”

The loud, unexpected crack of a rifle made them both jump, reminding Cole of their immediate danger.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, her voice filled with fear.

“Probably a poacher out after deer,” he lied, hoping to reassure her and knowing they needed to get the hell out of here a.s.a.p. That shot most likely came from a rancher or a Bureau of Land Management ranger hunting for the mountain lion he’d heard. Having the big cats this close to civilization didn’t happen often, but when it did, it wasn’t usually a good thing. Last spring, a rabid cougar had wandered into the campground and attacked a camper. The rangers had caught the animal and destroyed it, but the man had lost his leg. The other possibility, the one where that shot had come from whoever was responsible for the lights he’d seen earlier, wasn’t one he wanted to think about.

“Is he near us?” the nervous tremor in her voice convinced him she didn’t need the truth.

“No, that shot was miles away. Sound really carries at night.”

“Well, it sounded really close. It’s getting cold.” She shivered and reached for her leathers.

“Let’s pack it up. As much as I would love to spend more time with you, I don’t want you to catch your death out here.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, but Casey laughed.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I rarely get sick. Mom claims I have the constitution of an ox.”

He chuckled, some of his disquiet vanquished by her innocuous comment. “I guess that animal can be considered red, but it’s the last one I’d have compared you to. I’d envision a fox, a red panda, or some exotic red-haired rabbit—small, and adorable.

She laughed. “You are so full of it. No wonder your eyes are brown.”

Stopping what he was doing, he reached for her.

“You’re without a doubt the most beautiful, puzzling woman I have ever met. One of these days, I’ll convince you of that, and believe me, I have outstanding powers of persuasion, but it’s getting late. I don’t want to ruin my chances at a second date.”

Shaking her head, she smiled sheepishly. “You’re good, but you might need to have your eyes checked.”

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him quickly, a mere brush of her lips on his, and while he might want to take it deeper, the faint sounds of those engines floated over to them.

“I didn’t realize we were so close to the highway,” she said as they moved apart.

Shrugging, he picked up the backpack, and lied again. “Maybe we aren’t, and it’s the Apache Thunder Gods moving around.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She giggled.

Cole jumped down from the rock and held out his hand to her. “Come on, Cinderella. We’ve got to get back before the witching hour.”

“Very well, my prince. I found you quite charming tonight.” She held out her hand.

Reaching for it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it before helping her down from the rock.

“I try. I’m looking forward to my next chance to show you how appealing I can be,” he whispered, wanting to keep their voices down just in case. “Maybe someplace with candles and silk sheets. I know one only thirty minutes away. I’ve got more coffee, too.”

“Coffee’s good,” she answered, biting her lip once more.

Cole took her hand in his and, using the flashlight to illuminate the ground before them, led her back through the cacti to the trail. As soon as they reached their Harleys, he did his best to hurry her without making her notice the furtiveness of his actions. The sooner they were back in town, the better he would like it. He worried the entire ten minutes it took to follow the path, get to the campground road, and then back onto Highway 88. Watching for signs they were being followed, he saw no one, but he was glad they’d agreed earlier to go to his place. The problem would come later when he would try to convince her to let him escort her home without revealing the possible danger.

It was shortly after eleven when they pulled into his driveway and got off the bikes. Casey removed her helmet and stepped into his open arms.

“You bought your parents’ home. That’s great. I always loved this place,” she said, putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.

He blinked. “What? No. They still live here, but they aren’t around much, so it doesn’t make sense for me to have a place of my own when this one’s empty most of the time.”

She released her arms from around his waist, and moved away.

“I guess. I’d better get going. Thanks for a wonderful evening,” she said, but the words sounded off somehow. “I enjoyed every minute. It’s definitely been a night I won’t forget, and the most romantic date I’ve ever had—tarantulas and bats notwithstanding.”

He chuckled, trying to figure out what had her shying away. “I thought you were coming in for coffee,” he said, unable to mask his confusion.

“Not tonight. I need to get home.”

“You don’t have to go. My parents aren’t here right now, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

He pulled her tightly against him, but something had changed between them. She was stiff in his arms, and damned if he understood why.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she answered, a touch too quickly. “It’s getting late. You made me forget about all the things I have to do tomorrow. Randy’s waitress is off, and I promised to help out at the shop. I haven’t worked as a waitress since I got my degree. I’m sure I’ll be dead on my feet by noon. As you saw earlier, I really need to get some rest, and the last thing I want to do is let her down.”

But she could crush his hopes. He released her. She gave him a quick kiss, and mounted her bike.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asked, worried she might be followed. Just because he hadn’t noticed a tail didn’t mean they didn’t have one.

“Absolutely. What could possibly happen to me in Fortune? Besides, two motorcycles pulling into the driveway might wake Jaxon, and he’s really hard to get back to sleep if he wakes up during the night. He’s going through that monster phase.”

Since he didn’t know enough about the sleeping habits of four year old, and vaguely remembered Fallon’s fear of the dark when she was a child, it was hard to disagree.

“I’ll call you. You were right. It was a date that I’ll never forget.” Donning her helmet, she dropped the visor in place, and started the bike. Within seconds, all he could see were her taillights.

Despite his desire to follow her, Cole moved his bike to the garage and locked it up, reminded once more that Fortune wasn’t the town it had been when he’d grown up here. Climbing the steps, he unlocked the door and punched in the alarm code. Too wound up to sleep, he poured himself a drink and turned on the television to catch the late night news, hoping to hear that Skansen Mining had reopened those old mines, but the redhead who’d kept him enthralled ever since her arrival wouldn’t release her grip.

That’s it! 

Pick up your copy from any Amazon Retailer . Remember, Desert Deception is free on Kindle Unlimited. Don’t have a Kindle? Download the free app on your phone, computer, or tablet today!

 

 

Insecure Writers’ Support Group Monthly Blog for March

[image error]Welcome to the March edition of the ISWG’s blog.  This month’s question is: Other than the obvious holiday traditions, have you ever included any personal or family traditions/customs in your stories?

That’s a difficult question to answer since I don’t think my family does anything different from most Canadian families.

It was different when I was a child, but many of the French-Canadian customs in my family simply vanished due to the changing dynamics. We used top go to Midnight Mass at Christmas, at midnight. Now, churches tend to celebrate much earlier in the evening–six or seven pm. New Year’s Day would bring family into town from the country, but after my own grandparents died, that stopped.  We used to go to my uncle’s sugar bush around Easter, but the farm was sold and is now a housing development. I have lost touch with all my second, third, and fourth cousins.

As well, both my husband and my brother-in-law are English protestant, so their customs weren’t mine. As a result, we drifted away from our traditions and customs and embraced those that were the norm. I have used some of those in my books.

As far as other celebrations go, we really don’t have any. What I have incorporated into my books are the words my grandkids invented growing up and some of their habits. For example, in In Plain Sight, the child uses “ahind” My granddaughter’s logic was if you say ahead, why not ahind? I also used “chibens”, her name for pigeons since they was like chickens.  In His Christmas Family, the youngest child has a large beige blankie, just like my grandson did, and as the youngest of four, laments always being last, too.

So, what about you? Do you incorporate family customs in what you write?

Check out other posts here: https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Tuesday Tales: From the Word DIRT

[image error]Hello March! Only sixteen days until it’s officially spring, but I’m not sure Mother Nature got the message. Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Our 400 word scenes today are based on the word DIRT. I continue with The Price of Courage.

[image error]Lucien slung his arquebus over his shoulder, ready to toss the ski pole aside in an instant if necessary. They crossed scat and animal tracks at least three times, the remains of dead game only frozen lumps under the snow. The wind picked up and fat flakes fell as they crested a small hill. This region was hilly. In the distance, a dark, snow covered building stood. Beauséjour. A smaller building behind it showed no sign of life either. Judging by the accumulation of snow surrounding the edifices, no one had been there in a long time.

“Come on,” he said, digging his poles into the snow. “It doesn’t look inviting, but it’ll be safer than spending the night out here.” Several loud howls and yips punctuated the silence. Hackles rose on the back of Lucien’s neck. Was there a more mournful, eerie sound?

“The wolves awaken. We must hurry. Once a pack learns to kill for sport, no one is safe. They fear nothing.”

Lucien nodded and used his poles to propel himself down the side of the hill, stopping only when he reached the building. Snow was piled high in front of the door, and he set about digging his way inside, shoveling the white flakes with his cupped hands as if they were dirt. The Mohawk added his efforts to his. Soon they’d cleared the door. Lucien just hoped it wasn’t barred from the other side. Pushing hard, he shoved until the door burst open.

With the snow as high as the windows, it was hard to see inside the room, but it was cold, colder than it had been outside and that didn’t bode well for signs of life. Behind him, Okwaho fumbled in his pack and withing moments had lit the torch he carried.

Built in the same style as Nugoomee’s home, the room boasted a fireplace at one end. In the center was a large table, but what distinguished it were the fetters attached to the floor.

“It appears we’re in the right place,” Lucien said.

Okwaho lit the candelabra on the table, bathing the room in more light. On the far side stood a ladder leading up to a loft, but where Nugoomee had a sleeping area beneath hers, here there were three cages, no doubt used to contain the prisoners at night. Six small cots, two to a cage would’ve provided beds for the imprisoned men.

Thanks for visiting. On Tuesday and later, don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Box Sets: Getting a Bigger Bang for Your Buck!

Welcome spring. They tell me it’s close: 19 days until the first day of spring, 6 days until Daylight Savings Time starts, but it’s still winter here–complete with snow, cold weather, and flu, colds, and now the latest corona virus.

For many of us, it means spending more time at home. You’ve exhausted your list of must views on Netflix, cable television isn’t interesting, and Facebook is too full of doom, gloom, and politics. What can you do? You can take advantage of a number of excellent box sets available from the AUTHORS BILLBOARD 

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Check out their website  and don’t forget to enter the monthly draw.

As a member of this select group, I have the opportunity to have the opportunity to have my work featured in two of these sets. Each set is only 99 cents or free to read in Kindle Unlimited.

The first one is

[image error]Unforgettable Temptations: Attraction and Surrender (The Unforgettables Book 15)

If you enjoy reading about FBI Agents, Police Detectives & hard-working cops where the good guys win in the end & passion keeps you engaged, you’ll want to grab this collection.  Nine romantic suspense stories created by bestselling, award-winning authors are tales so hot you’ll be tempted to bring a fan!

Mimi Barbour – Special Agent Murphy – It’s Christmas in Washington, but not for one heartsick family.

Taylor Lee – Forbidden – He’d betrayed her. Why couldn’t she hate him?

Melinda De Ross – The Diary – A love story is born on a background of fierce history in the castle of Countess Dracula.

Nancy Radke – Terminal Pursuit – As the net tightens, who can they trust with their lives?

Stephanie Queen – Ace Under Fire – Can this bad boy has-been make a comeback to save an old flame?

Jen Talty – Murder in Paradise – Doug could trust her with his life, but could he fully give her his heart?

Stacy Eaton – Liveon – No Evil – Can she protect him without getting her heart involved?

Suzanne Jenkins – Apollo’s Other Daughter – Overcoming outside forces, family secrets, and a double homicide bind Joe and Gaia together when she discovers evidence the detectives didn’t see.

Susanne Matthews – On His Watch – You can’t outrun the past and when it catches you, look out! 

Available from AmazonUS | AmazonUK | AmazonCA | AmazonAU

 

The second one is:

[image error]All That Glitters: Glitz, Glam, and Billionaires 

Lifestyles of the rich, famous, royal, and glamorous! This brand new collection of SEVEN contemporary romances includes three never before released stories from New York Times & USA Today Bestselling award-winning authors.

A socialite fraternizing with her bodyguard, a kindergarten teacher dancing for a prince, sexy billionaires, cosplay mistaken identity, falling in love with a Hollywood heartthrob, and so much more!

Something Wild (new): Michele Hauf, USA Today bestselling author: A wild child socialite’s fantasies about her sexy bodyguard become reality, but will their affair compromise his ability to protect her?

A Dance For Prince Eric (new): Mona Risk, USA Today bestselling author: A ballerina with a promising career on the run for her brother’s sake. A charismatic prince who saved them both, but never speaks of commitment.

Diamonds Aren’t For Everyone (new): Dani Haviland, USA Today Bestselling author: Money, jewels, and good looks don’t mean anything to the lonely beauty who just wants a companion. Will she spurn him just because he does ‘have it all’?

Billionaire Extraordinaire: Leanne Banks, NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author: Billionaire Damien Medici plans to avenge his family by seducing privileged information from his new assistant Emma Weatherfield. But can he romance Emma without falling for her himself?

Color Me Yours: Jen Talty, USA Today Bestselling author: Hawk Jefferson never anticipated he’d fall in love, much less want to settle down and give his parents the grandchild they’ve always wanted. Only, getting Kennedy Monroe on board with that plan seems to be harder than anticipated.

Celebrity: Melinda De Ross, USA Today Bestselling author: The Journey of a young writer who trades her simple existence in Chicago for the glamorous Hollywood life, full of luxury and scandal.

Just For The Weekend: Susanne Matthews, Amazon Bestselling Author: When a Kindergarten teacher decides to play dress-up in Vegas, she gets far more than she bargained for.

Available from AmazonUS | AmazonUK | AmazonCA | AmazonAU

Why not take a chance a download one or both today? What have you got to lose?

Tuesday Tales: From the Word CARELESS

[image error]Welcome to February’s last Tuesday Tales post. This is a leap year with the month having 29 days. What will you do with your extra day?

This week’s word is CARELESS. I continue with The Price of Courage.

Mindful of the mutilated deer, Lucien watched more carefully. Wolf tracks indicated the animals were on a course parallel to theirs. From here on in, he would make sure his arquebus was primed and ready.

“You were right about death,” Lucien said, returning to the tree. “They’re a doe over by those trees. They left most of her, eating only the choice organs. It looks like their den must be somewhere in the same direction we travel.”

The Mohawk nodded. “We must stay alert. A careless accident could doom us to the same fate as the deer.” He looked up and pointed on the horizon. “There will be more snow before the day is done. We must be quick and then on our way. If the wolves are ahead of us, traveling after dark, in bad weather, will be dangerous.”

Okwaho reached for the bark and branches. Within minutes he had a small blaze going. Both the stew pot and a second pot of snow sat atop the small iron grate he used as a stove. When the stew was warm enough, the man ladled it onto trenchers, passed one to Lucien, and then set about making spruce tea.

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Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

“If the wolves can kill for sport and not for food, the deer must be plentiful in the area. I will watch for signs. We are close enough to the farm to fell an animal here and take it back. I can dress it there and it will give us meat to share with the Montagnais.” The scout frowned. “I hope no man wants to challenge me over Nugoomee. Killing a man over his woman will not make it easier for the tribe to accept a man they see as an enemy.”

Lucien chuckled. “Trust you to look at the worst possible situation. Nugoomee has made her choice. The land will revert to the king and you and your family will enjoy many years together. Now, let’s get going. If your prediction about the weather is correct, I want to be at Beauséjour before dark and hope that whatever we find there will not make the place uninhabitable.

With an economy of effort, Okwaho put out the fire and scattered the ashes in the snow. He cleaned the trenchers and wrapped them in the beeswax sheets Nugoomee had given him. As soon as the scout was ready, they left the clearing and headed north.

Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

 

 

Tuesday Tales: From the Word SKINNY

[image error]Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. While many of you celebrated President’s Day yesterday, here in Ontario we celebrated Family Day. Unfortunately, because of the disputes between the government and the teachers, the last thing my grandkids needed was another day off school. Still, it was a day away from work for my daughter and a chance to spend quality time with her children.

This week’s Tuesday Tales is based on a word prompt and limited to 400 words. The word is SKINNY. I continue with The Price of Courage.

They skied until the sun reached its zenith. Raising his hand, Lucien signaled a halt.

“We’ll rest here for an hour or so, have something to eat, and rebuild our energy. I’ll gather wood while you find us a suitable tree under which to make our temporary camp.”

Okwaho nodded. “There is venison stew for us to eat. Nugoomee filled a small pot this morning.” The Mohawk sniffed the air and frowned. “But we will eat quickly and then be on our way. I smell death on the wind.”

Lucien frowned but nodded. If the Mohawk smelled death, then something had recently perished nearby. Hopefully it was an animal and not a man. By now they’d gone beyond the boundary of Bouchard’s land and were either on unclaimed land or on the edge of the seigneurie, Beauséjour. Would that estate be the one the false Bouchard had called La Jeunesse Oublige? He hoped so, since the idea that there could be another estate out there that even the governor knew nothing about was disturbing.

Lucien set about finding wood while Okwaho checked nearby trees and cover for the best place to make a fire to heat their food. Skiing was hard work, especially when the snow was deep and sticky, but it kept a man warm on the outside even if it could sap his strength and energy. That was why taking time to eat and renew themselves was so important.

The heavy snowfall had covered many of the broken twigs and branches Lucien would usually collect for a fire. Pulling out his knife, he headed over to a stand of skinny birch trees bowed low and damaged by the snow. Green wood wasn’t the best, but the bark burned well.

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

He was only a few feet away when he spotted the red snow and the frozen remains of a doe, her gut torn open, the tender organs ripped out. Here and there, the remnant of entrails highlighted the paw prints surrounding the carcass.

Other than man, wolves were the only predators who hunted for sport. Judging by the remains here, either this pack was well-fed or they planned to return to the kill later. Either way, he and Okwaho would do well to be far away from this place before nightfall.

Gathering as much bark as he could and some dry branches, Lucien made his way back to Okwaho.

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Tuesday Tales: It’s Picture Time.

[image error]Welcome to Valentine’s Day Week version of Tuesday tales, the blog where a specific group of authors share scenes from their works in progress with you. This week is picture week and each scene is limited to 300 words.  Feel free to leave a comment on the posts you read. We are love to hear from our readers. I continue with The Price of Courage. 

Here is the image I chose. With a snowstorm raging outside my windows, it seems fitting to imagine the beauty of the day when it ends.[image error]

Okwaho was as good a man, if not better, than many he’d met. Huguette, or rather Nugoomee as she would now be called, could do far worse than attach herself to the Mohawk scout. He’d seen how well they treated their young, accepting adopted children with the same love they showed those born to them. Yvette, Jean-Michel, and the unborn child would have a kind and caring father.

Without another word, Okwaho finished putting on his skis and wrapped the hide ropes for the toboggan around his waist. There was little on it, but the scout hoped to find fresh meat on their return. Now that he had a family to feed, he would take his responsibilities even more seriously than before. Lucien smiled. Yves would be quite content with that. The coureur de bois loved fresh meat.

Skis secured, Lucien led the way around behind the house and out to the fields in the direction Nugoomee had given them. The estate was one spring day’s march from the Bouchard farm. There was probably a trail of some sort that skirted her land, but going cross country like this, through the bush and across the cleared fields, might save time. He hoped to reach their destination by nightfall. They’d heard wolves calling the last few nights and would prefer to be indoors when the beasts set out on the hunt again.

The air was clear and crisp, the sky an unending canopy of blue. Sunlight reflected off the snow necessitating the use of their bone eye shields. Trees, heavily laden with new snow, stood as solitary sentinels as he and the scout skimmed over the fresh powder, moving faster than Lucien had expected. Here and there, downed trees or those bowed so low they obscured the path, forced them to find another way.

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