rogerinblueongray
Nov 30, 2014
OVERLAND - NANOWRIMO
Update on my new novel in the works. Today is the last day of National Novel Writing Month. I am at 57,057 words. I have written an ending and I have started editing. 57057, sounds like Ketchup. All I need are the fries.
Writing a western has been great fun and so far, I am pleased with what I have and look forward to rewriting and editing in the next months.
Before the novel goes to publication, I plan to visit several of the actual stagecoach station sites in Texas and field research.
Nov 28, 2014
DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING
THE WILLIE BIRD OPTION |
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 16, 2014
SATURDAY
Saturday comes early
So much to do:
So much to do:
- Listen to Scott Simon
- Take a morning photo
- Make coffee
- Write 900 words
- Lumosity Training
- Feed the humming birds
- Refill the seed feeders
- Change the water in the fountain
- Clean the cat boxes
- Go to Farmers Market
- Visit a new place in Sonoma
This list is too long - some things will have to wait for Sunday.
Nov 14, 2014
FRIDAY
Friday or Fredag in Swedish is Freyja’s day.
Freyja is the Norse goddess associated with love, sexuality, beauty,
fertility, gold, sorcery, war, and death. Freyja wears a necklace of gleaming
metal, rides a chariot pulled by two cats, keeps a boar by her side, possesses
a cloak of falcon feathers, and, is the wife of Odin.When people die in battle, half go to Odin and half to Freyja.
Does knowing who you are and
where your family came from really matter?
Only to those who can never know.
Nov 13, 2014
THURSDAY
Is it the fourth or fifth day of the week?
Is it Thunors's day, Thunraz' day, or Thor's day?
Does it matter?
Whose ever
day it is Thursday brings:
- The end of leftovers
- The Big Bang
- The hint of bad things to come
- Friday and the weekend
- Another day to get things done
Nov 12, 2014
Green Trucks
Wednesday, the barrels are rolled to their mark.
Green trucks thunder by, back and forth.
Cleaning our garbage, taking our waste.
Saving the lawn cuttings and compose for a greener world.
Things used and unwanted on the heap.
When will you and I be there?
TUESDAY
Tuesday seemed to get away from me.
Well, that's what Tuesdays do or is it Mondays?
A great song by Five for Fighting.
One year like any old other year in a week like any week
Monday lying down, half asleep
People doing what people do, loving, working and getting through
No portraits on the walls of Seventh Avenue
Well, that's what Tuesdays do or is it Mondays?
A great song by Five for Fighting.
One year like any old other year in a week like any week
Monday lying down, half asleep
People doing what people do, loving, working and getting through
No portraits on the walls of Seventh Avenue
Then Tuesday came and went like a helicopter overhead
The letter that she left, cold addressed in red
Tuesday came and went one, one September when
Will she come again?
The letter that she left, cold addressed in red
Tuesday came and went one, one September when
Will she come again?
The thing about memories they're sure and bound to fade
Except for the stolen souls, left upon her blade
Is Monday coming back? Well, that's what Mondays do
They turn and turn around afraid to see it through
Except for the stolen souls, left upon her blade
Is Monday coming back? Well, that's what Mondays do
They turn and turn around afraid to see it through
Tuesday came and went like a helicopter overhead
The letter that she left, cold addressed in red
Tuesday came and went one, one September when
Will she come again?
The letter that she left, cold addressed in red
Tuesday came and went one, one September when
Will she come again?
Tuesday came and went one, one September when
Cold and dressed in red, how could I forget?
Cold and dressed in red, how could I forget?
Tuesday came and went like a helicopter overhead
Will she come again?
Will she come again?
Songwriter
ONDRASIK, JOHH
ONDRASIK, JOHH
Five For Fighting - Tuesday
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 3, 2014
First Draft Chapter 3
FORT SMITH
Superintendent Waters, Alverez
Kelly, and Nathan stood together in front of the Superintendent’s house
watching passengers and baggage load the El Paso Coach. Kelly loved to talk and
tell tall tales. As Conductor helped each person in the coach, Kelly would
comment on why he guessed the person was going to El Paso.
Technically,
the stage was traveling first through the Indian Territory to Colbert’s Ferry,
then, it would across Texas to Fort Chadbourne on the Pecos and finally south
to Franklin and El Paso. Among the seven passengers, there were five men and
three women. Two of the men were newspaper reporters from Dallas. They told the
Station Agent they were in Fort Smith to cover the hangings. However, Kelly claimed
they never left the nugget saloon. The reporters and another man, Cutler Hansen,
who said he was a Texas banker, would leave the coach at Fort Belnap and take a different coach line to Dallas. Kelly took
one look at Hansen, and declared the man a fake.
“He might have been a bank clerk,” said Kelly. “But, he's
running from something.”
Most men Kelly to according were criminals or villains of
one sort or another.
The other two men, Willis Frank and Quentin Kale were
dressed as businessmen, in suits and wearing city hats, but according to Kelly,
they talked and smelled like ranch hands.
“I talked to Amos Davies about these two. They came up to
the ticket window together and then played some kind of game in front of Amos
making out they lived in El Paso but had never met. The thing is, they have
similar new suits and travelling bags and they purchased their ticket with a
fifty dollar gold piece. I am certain they are villains.
The
two women were as different as night and day. Elizabeth Chandler was a young stick
of a girl from Ohio on her way to teach reading and writing to the Indian
children at the school in Fort Chadbourne. The other woman was in her thirties. She had
come in on the stage with Nathan. Nathan knew her name was Ruth Manchester. According
to Kelly by way of Amos Davies, she said very little on the trip from Tipton except
she was from Illinois and on her way to Mexico.
Alverez speculated she was a Mormon.
When all the passengers, baggage, and mail was aboard, Amos
Davies and a second man, Conrad Kliest carried the strong box out and placed it
under the seat in the box. Neils Johnston stood guard during the transfer. When
they were finished, Davies and Kleist walked around the coach with Kelly
checking cinches, buckles, and ties. Kliest would take over as conductor for
the trip. He would ride inside the coach.
Satisfied all was in order, Kelly and Neils Johnston climbed
up into the box. Following, Nathan used the
hand rails to climb past Johnston where he wedged himself between bags of mail while
holding on to the rail with one hand and his new shotgun with the other. Behind
Nathan, a Choctaw Indian named Joe Red Feather (Shikoba humma) sat at the back
of the stage facing the rear. He was riding the top as far as Geary Station on
North Boggy Creek. Joe’s sister Lucy was married to the station master, A.W.
Geary. Joe had gone to the Indian School and spoke American better than Neils.
He was the twenty-five year old second son of a Choctaw chief.
Exactly at three in the afternoon, the Wells Fargo Overland Stage for El Paso rolled out of Fort Smith
with Kelly driving the team through town at a slow walk. Kelly was one of the
best Whips in the west and loved the looks of envy the townspeople showed when
he drove the brightly painted red coach on another journey.
On their way out of town, Neils Johnston intently watched
the road and the throng of people on Garrison Avenue. Even with a second guard
and a new shotgun, Neils never stopped watching for armed men or Indians.
Because they were leaving late in the day, Neils and Kelly had on cream-colored
dusters. The day was warm and sunny, but
the nights could be cold and rain was always possible at harvest time.
Immediately out of town, they stopped at the first of a
dozen ferries and river crossings. By now, Nathan was used to the routine. He
had already crossed the red river once into Fort Smith and as Kelly explained it,
they would cross the Red twice more. For safety the passengers existed the
coach while Kelly drove the team and wagon onto the ferry. Neils told Nathan to
stand at the back with his shotgun at the ready and guard the boot. He took a
position by the right front wheel. Kelly stood at the front talking to the lead
horses.
One of the newspaper men walked up to Nathan. He was short
and fat, a man in his forties, with thinning gray hair.
“Did you see the hanging?” the man asked.
"I did. Did you?”
“I got there late. I was really too far back to see or hear
much. My names David York. I write for the Dallas Gazette. I’m not sure what I
will write.”
“I am sure you can
make something up.”
Seeing six men die all at the same time had an unsettling
effect on Nathan. Nathan was no stranger to death or killing. At Gettysburg,
he’d seen dozens of men blown to bits by cannon shot; men dying together in the
same instance. At Cold Harbor, he shot five men, dropping each man two or three
steps after the last. No man getting any further than the time it took him to
cock his Army Colt. He gutted a sixth Reb, with his bayonet. The difference was
life and death in war were random. These deaths were planned and the men killed
by something like a machine in a factory.
“Look, it would be worth a buck to me if you would tell me
what you heard and saw. What did it feel like? I mean, did they twist and die
slow or snap and it was all over.” The fat man snapped his pudgy fingers.
“One of the men said there were folks in the crowd more
guilty than him.”
“He was probably right. What did the others say?”
“One said he was glad to leave this world. Another broke
down and cried that he was innocent. Then this minister got up and read a
letter one of the boys had written. I can’t remember much because it made no
sense to me. When they finished, a marshal put a noose and hood on each and then
pulled a lever. It was over in less time than it takes to drink a whiskey.”
“What did you think when it was all over?”
“I remember thinking that I hoped I would never find myself
on that crowded platform claiming I was innocent.”
“Anything else.”
“You owe me a dollar.” Nathan gave the man a hard look and
then smiled as the man pulled out his pocketbook.
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Nov 1, 2014
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