With all the quiet around the house these days, its a bit easier to write. I'm still fleshing out this story and would love to chat about it if you want. This is the next 780 words after Jake cut his hair and shaved his mustache. Part one is this thread -->
http://mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=50904.0I wanted to start throwing in a few twists. So here's what I've come up with so far.
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He broke camp in the predawn morning with a pot of stew meat, a bag of fresh jerky and a roast for the spit. He followed the left bank of the river like the major told him. The first bridge he came across would lead to the back of the house.
The river grass was thick and hedged along the bank and the shadows black enough Jake wasn’t going to risk stepping off into deep water. By the time he found a break in the foliage where he could safely water his horse and pack-mule, the sun was cutting its first rays through the valley.
He filled one canteen while the sun lit the dusting of fly-seeds coming off the trees. They seemed to hang motionless over the green banks and black waters as if they were left over from some enchanted dream – some mysterious forgotten place in time. A place of peace he’d always dreamed of finding.
By the time he’d finished filling his second canteen, looking toward the sun made him squint. Between the glare on the water and the dusting of seeds in the air he caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the river. Instinctively his hand dropped to his gun.
Stepping from the trees, a beautiful girl appeared. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty one or twenty two. Even if she’d been fully dressed, Jake would have been hard pressed not to look but this beautiful creature had stripped herself of everything but a waist-slip petticoat.
The sun shone a golden radiance haloing through her long brown hair and pierced her slip as if it were a thinly veiled curtain of white lace and mist.
Clearly she believed she was alone for her morning lavation – at least until Jake's horse nickered and bobbed his head in the air. Beauty looked right at them and straight into Jake's eyes. She covered herself by curling her arms inward. But she didn’t scream and she didn’t look away.
Jake stood averting his eyes down toward his boots in an apologetic gesture. Before he realized what he had done, he found himself with hat in hand as if he passed this beautiful rarity on the streets of a township. With his heart racing he couldn’t help but look again, but she was gone. Not a sound, not a trace, as if she’d never been there in the first place. He began to argue with himself, she was real wasn’t she?
That glorious vision real or imaginary burned its way into his memory – the shimmer of seedlings dancing all around, the sparkling water, flash-glitter and blinding, the golden halo in her hair and above all else, the look she gave him. She didn’t seem to be angry. Maybe she realized he’d been just as surprised to see her as she was of him.
The bridge must have been over a mile and a half farther down the road but Jake couldn't have told a soul what he’d passed along the way.
Mr. Owens greeted him near the stables. “Glad you made it. The boys are anxious to meet you. We’ve been telling ‘em about your corn-cakes.” He gestured to a small clap-board cottage. “This one’s yours. The coal pits, and woodpiles between you-” He pointed to the larger building across from pit and brick oven. “- and through there is your kitchen and mess for the boys.”
Jake followed Mr. Owens in through the back door of the kitchen and on through into the dining hall. There were two or three boys sweeping and three more scrubbing the long table that divided the room. Mr. Owens went on through and out the front doors onto a wraparound porch with a dozen or so chairs and benches lined up along the wall. The Major met them with a smile and shook Jake’s hand again. “I’m happy you decided to come on.”
Jake looked out toward the corrals and saw more boys no older than fifteen or sixteen. He furrowed his brow and almost mumbled under his breath. “Boys – cook for the . . . boys? As in real boys?”
The major chuckled. “Yes son, this is Major Sam’s home for orphans and wayward boys.”
Mr. Owens grinned. “We take ‘em in, clean ‘em up, give them discipline, book learning and teach ‘em to farm and ranching. Doing the Lord’s work in the land of the wicked.”
Jake was trying to hold back a smile and trying not to shake his head when that beautiful young woman rode up. She glanced his way again but this time she was fully dressed. The major helped her down from her side-saddle.
“Let me introduce you to my daughter, Miss Abigail-Grace Reno.”
