TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BUSY"

 

Martha Chesney busy as always, stood in front of the Inn, sweeping the entryway. Under her apron, she wore a dark pink frock that set off her silver hair perfectly. Abiel stopped for a moment. Yes, he had a plan, but he had to admit to himself that cozying up to Martha Chesney would be a pleasure as she was mighty easy on the eyes. As he approached, she stopped, leaned on the broom and cast her gaze to Abiel.

Good morning! This week we have another episode from "Sam's Decision". This one is about the Sheriff, Abiel Wilcox, and Sam's grandmother, Martha Chesney. Don't forget to leave a comment. And read the other stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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“Good day, Sheriff. How be ye?”

Abiel nodded and removed his hat. “Fine, milady. Fine. How be yourself?”

She nodded.

“I picked this because it reminded me of you.” He offered her the flower.

Martha cast doubting eyes on him. “Do tell.” She brought the flower to her nose.

“No scent. But its beauty is equaled only by your own,” Abiel said.

“Poppycock! Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, Sheriff. What are you wantin?”

“Please call me Abiel.”

Martha held the flower up and narrowed her eyes.

“Sheriff is best. Don’t know you much,” she said.

“I’m aimin’ to change that,” he said. “We’ll be taking our evening meal with you tonight. And as often as my purse allows,” he said, making a sweeping bow before turning to exit.

“Thank you, Sheriff. Much obliged. I’ll set places for you and your family. Seating at six.”

He shot her a warm grin and was rewarded with a smile, which lit up her lovely face.

Abiel shoved his hat back on his head and trudged home. Recent rain made the way muddy in spots. He grinned to himself. His plans for a secure future for him, his daughter, and granddaughter took shape.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word prompt "school"

 

Welcome! It's been a while since I've posted any of "Sam's Decision", my work-in-progress. Here we go back to the scene with his sister discussing his plans for farming and getting a wife. Don't forget to read all the great stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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Sam jammed his hat on his head and pulled his jacket closer. “I best be getting’ back.”

“But you just got here.”

“I wore out my welcome fast, didn’t I?”

Sarah took his hand. “Please don’t go. It’s lonesome here. Don’t tell the Fitch’s. I miss the Chesneys. Stay. Or you’ll miss the best meal you’ll have all month.”

The prospect of fine food got his mouth to watering. A cool breeze drew his attention. Old Mr. Fitch had returned.

“Boy. What you got there?” he asked Sam.

“Your axe, sir. As good as new. Better even,” Sam said, handing the sachel to Elijah Fitch.

The older man opened it and took out the tool. He gently ran his calloused thumb over the blade.

“Sharp enough to skin a goat. Good. Thanks, Sam. Your mother’s new husband got you real schooled in smithin’. You stayin’ to supper/” he asked, returning the tool to the sachel.

“I’ve invited him, Elijah,” Sarah said.

“Good.” The old man took a sidelong glance at the lad. “Looks like he could use a good meal. We have the finest table in all the Catskill Mountains,” Fitch boasted.

“I don’t doubt it, sir. Thank you for the invitation.”

A bell tinkled from the kitchen, signaling the meal was ready. Elijah, Sam, and Sarah quickened their pace to the dining room. Sam’s eyes lit up when he saw the sumptuous repast laid before him on the sideboard.

There was a large pot of venison stew. Then buttery mashed potatoes. Next was a platter of boiled turnips, glazed carrots, and roasted onions. A two loaves of perfectly browned bread sat next to a dish of sweet, creamy butter and a small pot of jam.

Sam heaped his plate with food. Sarah poked him in the ribs.

“Don’t be a pig,” she whispered. It was loud enough for all to hear.

“Don’t want to let good food go wastin’,” Sam said, slipping onto the chair next to his sister.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by.