TUESDAY TALES WORD PROMPT "COLD"

 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write stories to word prompts. This week's prompt is "cold", kind of appropriate for January, wouldn't you agree? We have more of Sam's story this week, but from Becky's perspective. Uh oh. Becky is not happy. Don't forget, when you've finished reading my story to hop on over and read the great stories by our talented crew. You'll find them HERE. 

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The Bloodgoode sisters always angled to get things for free. “The poor family of Fitch’s pastor shouldn’t have to pay,” Charity had said over and over again. 

“We give you a lower price,  Charity, but everybody has to pay something. We have to pay for things. And so do you."

“Pastor’s money doesn’t go far,” Catherine mumbled.

“Why don’t you do some needlework and sell it. Or take in laundry?” Becky said, working to stifle a smile.

“Take in laundry? A pastor’s daughters? Pish tush!” Charity blustered.  “We’ll take a length of that grosgrain ribbon. In blue,” she said, pointing.

“Be content to be proud and do without,” Becky quipped, pulling down the ribbon and measuring it.

A nasty gleam glowed in Charity’s eyes. “Of course we’re proud. No one has toyed with our affections just to leave us high and dry,” she said, a mean grin pulled at her lips.

“What?”

“Hush, Charity. I told you not to mention that,” Catherine said, her voice as fake as her demeanor.

Becky looked up. “What in heaven’s name are you two talking about?”

The sisters looked at each other, giggled, then leaned in closer to Becky. “We don’t like to gossip or anything,” Catherine said.

“You don’t?” Becky cocked an eyebrow.

“But news is news. And we figured you’d want to know first.

An uneasy feeling stole up Becky’s back.   “No, no I don’t.”

“Oh yes  you do,” Catherine continued, cutting off Becky’s escape by grabbing her arm and holding it fast.

“Stop,” Becky said, struggling under the young woman’s iron grip.

“Sam Chesney asked Violet Wilcox to marry him and she said yes!” Charity blurted out, then covered her mouth with her hand.

Becky felt heat rush to her face. “It’s not true,” she muttered.

“Oh, I’m afraid it is,” said Catherine, nodding.

Becky felt faint. She heard a ringing in her ears and her heartbeat jumped. She grabbed her shawl and headed for the back door.

“What about our ribbon?” Asked Charity.

“Take it. Take it. It’s a gift. Just leave. Leave now!” Becky said.

Blood drained from her face as fast as it had gathered there, leaving her lightheaded. She yanked her arm free, ran out the door, and continued as fast as her legs could carry her, impervious to the cold wind but not to the cold hand that gripped her heart. 

That's all. Thanks for stopping by.

TUESDAY TALES - SUNNY

 

Welcome to another Tuesday Tales day. Brrr. There's snow on the ground. It's so great to be able to stay inside and cozy up to these wonderful stories. Today we have another episode of "Sam's Decision". Don't forget to bop on over to the other authors and read their terrific tales. You'll find them HERE. 

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Early the next morning, Sam took the bright sunshine as a good omen. He finished his breakfast in three gulps and set out to Violet’s house.  With the sun on his shoulders, he walked quickly, easily making his way along the now familiar path.

After a firm, confident rap on the door, he shifted his weight, waiting to be let in. Finally the door was opened.

“Sam?” Violet said. “Come in.” She tugged on his arm and he stepped across the threshold.

“Morning, Miss Violet.” Sam looked around, surprised to see they were alone.

“Morning. Can I get you some cider?” she asked. “Do you want to sit by the fire?”

Without the sunshine on his back, his body shivered slightly. Was it from the cold or nerves.

“Yes, thank you. You’re mightykind,” he said, taking a chair by the fire.

Violet rushed out and returned quickly with a mug of cider and sat next to him.

“Violet, I’ve come to see you on a matter of great urgency,” Sam said, pushing to his feet.  

“Yes?” Her brilliant turquoise eyes made contact with his.

“It’s about what we discussed.”

“Oh?” she raised her eyebrows.

“About being a farm wife. I’ve spoken to your father…”

“You have?”

“Yes. And he said the decision is yours.”

“What decision?”

Sam put down the cider and took off his hat. He twisted it as his mind searched for the right words. “About becoming a farm wife.”

“Oh? Who’s asking?”

Sam grinned. “Oh come on, Violet. You know it’s me.”

She blushed. “Yes, I do. But I want to hear you say it.”

Sam took her hand in his. “Will you, Vi? Will you marry me and live on my farm?”

Her hand was soft and smooth. He stared at it, wondering if it was strong enough to do the work of a farm wife.

“Well?” he asked, joining his gaze with hers.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. Please leave a comment -it makes my day! 

TUESDAY TALELS - WORD PROMPT "YEAR"

 

Welcome!

This week of the beginning of the new year, our word prompt is "year"! Not very original, but fun nonetheless. We have more about poor Sam's fate this week. When you're done, bop on over to the other writers of Tuesday Tales. Find their wonderful stories HERE. 

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“Sit down, son. How nice for you to pay me a visit,” Abiel said, taking the comfortable chair by the fire.

“Yessir,” Sam said, taking off his hat.

“Something on your mind?” Abiel prompted.

Sam twisted his hand in his hand. This was it. The moment of truth.

“Yessir. I was fixin’ to ask your daughter, Violet, to be my wife. If you don’t have any objections,” Sam blurted out.

Abiel raised his eyebrows. “Violet marry you? What are your prospects, Sam?”

“I’m fixin’ to take over one of Mr. Fitch’s farms,” Sam twisted his hat in his hands. “It’s already got a nice little house. Potatoes and carrots planted. I got seeds for squash, and plenty more. It’s got apple trees, too. We’ll have a big harvest in the fall. My sister’s gonna give me some chickens, too. So, we’ll have plenty of food. Violet won’t go hungry. I’ll take care of her. Take care of her real good.”

“You think so?” Abiel tamped down the tobacco in his pipe and lit a match.

“We’ll get flour and butter from the Inn. My grandma always has some to spare.”

“I see. And you think she’ll be happy there?” Abiel puffed on the pipe, drawing in the flame from the match.

“Yessir. She said she wanted to be a farmer’s wife.”

“You won’t work her too hard, will you?” Abiel cast a severe glance Sam’s way.

“No sir. No sir. I’ll take care of her.”

“I see.”

“I love her, Mr. Lee,” Sam lied.

“You do? Pretty quick, I’d say.”

“When love hits, you don’t need years to see it. At least that’s what my grandma always says. Said she knew she’d marry my grandpa same day she met him.”

Abiel nodded. “I see.”

“Do I got your permission, Mr. Lee?” Sam untwisted his hat then twisted it up the other way.

“If Violet agrees, you have my blessing.”

“I do?” Sam’s voice went up an octave.

“You do. See you do take good care of her, Samuel Chesney. She’s the apple of my eye.”

“I will, Mr. Lee. I will. I promise.”

“You’re a fine lad. I believe you. Now run along. It’s late.” Abiel Lee stood, tapped his pipe on the brick of the fireplace and yawned. Sam took the hint and scooted ahead to the door.

Once outside, he let out a breath. He’d done it. Now all he had to do was make the proposal to Violet. After what he’d just been through, that seemed easy.

 

 

That's all. Thanks for stopping by!

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "HOLIDAY"

 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where writers create stories to word prompts. This week our word prompt is "holiday". Rather fitting, don't you think? I have another installment from "Sam's Decision."  Don't forget to hop on over to read the other stories by our talented writers. You'll find them HERE.  

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After dinner, Caleb raised his eyebrows and stared at Sam.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Martha asked, her sharp glance darted back and forth between Caleb and Sam.

“Nothin’, Grandma. Thanks for dinner. I best be goin’.”

“Goin’ where?”

“Now, Martha, let the young man be,” Caleb said, pushing away from the table.

“I’ll help clean up, Ma,” Abigail said.

“Fine.”

Sam slipped out the door and set his feet in the direction of the Wilcox home. As his mind worked, her slowed his pace. Somehow he couldn’t get up much enthusiasm for the task at hand. He recalled how he counted the minutes until Becky opened the store the day he decided to propose to her. He’d been all het up, his breath comin’ quick, his heart thumpin’ like a racehorse on the home stretch.

Now he kept a steady even pace as he plotted out what to say to Mr. Wilcox. His breath was even and steady as was his heartbeat.

“Is this what it is to be a man?” he asked himself in hushed tones. “Doin’ the right thing?”

He knew it was, but that didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Violet Wilcox. He did. She made his blood run hot and he could barely take his eyes off her beauty. But she didn’t capture his heart like Becky did.

“I’ll learn to love her. That’s what  Caleb said.” Resigned to his fate, he plodded ahead. “It ain’t like I’m going to the gallows.” Yeah, but it also wasn’t like a big holiday neither. He finally arrived at their door. He swallowed, then raised  his fist to knock on the door. Mr. Wilcox answered.

“Why, Sam, how nice for you to come for a visit,” Abiel Wilcox said, as he took Sam by the arm and ushered him inside.

Maybe this was a little like a turkey felt the day before Thanksgiving, Sam thought, as he stepped across the threshold.

Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Shady" - December 10

Welcome! Tuesday Tales continues this week with more of "Sam's Decision". Today we have the story from Violet's perspective. When you're done, hop on over and read the works of the fabulous Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE.  

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Across town, Violet stepped across the threshold of her home quietly. The fire in the main room still burned. She saw her father in his chair snoring, his chin resting on his chest. Trying as hard as she could to move without making a sound, she bumped into a chair hiding in the shadows.

“What? What? Who’s that?” Abiel Wilcox started awake.

“Tis me, Father.”

Abiel knocked his pipe against a wooden bowl and set it down on a small table. “Violet?”

“Yes,” she said, casting her eyes to the floor, She shivered, trying to cast off the ugliness of her shady behavior with Sam.

Abiel pushed to his feet, brushed off some telltale tobacco bits from his vest and stretched his arms up before turning to face his daughter. “Well?”

“It’s done, Father. It’s done.”

Abiel approached her. He cupped her chin. “I’m sorry child, but it was the only way.”

“He’ll be round to see you soon, I reckon,” she said softly.

He nodded. “What’s done is done. We have to make the best of it. You might like farm life,” he ventured.

With full, angry eyes, Violet shot him a look, then stormed out to her room and slammed the door.

Once inside, she ignored her sleeping mother and threw herself on the bed, sobbing.

“Zeb. Zeb. Where are you?” she said into her pillow, muffling the sound as best she could.

Her mother awoke and turned on her side. She stroked her daughter’s back.

“It’s best this way, Violet.”

“No, it isn’t, Mother. It isn’t.”

“I’m sorry dear. You have only Zeb to blame. He led you on. I know you believed his love was true. This is for the best. You’ll have your own house and a man who loves you. That should be a comfort.”

Violet wiped her face and pulled the covers over her. She knew her mother was right. Marrying Sam should be a comfort. He was a good man. She’d have to work hard, but together they could build a life for her child. Yes, it should be a great comfort. But it wasn’t. It simply was no comfort at all.” 

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

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Careful" - December 3

 

Welcome! I hope you had a good holiday. We're back to Tuesday Tales as we all race toward the Christmas holiday! This week the word prompt is "careful" and we're back with Sam as he is careful to sneak home after his tryst with Violet. When you're done, go over to read the other authors great stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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When he reached the Inn, he stopped briefly to stare at the glass windows to see if he showed any signs of his earlier activity, but it was too dark to see.

The Inn clock chimed midnight. He frowned at the thought of how tired he’d be the next morning when he’d drag himself out of bed to go to work early the next morning. He opened the Inn door slowly, careful not to awaken anyone. He tiptoed across the floor.

“A bit late to be returning from walking Miss Wilcox home, isn’t it?” came a firm voice. “Did you take the long way, across the Lee farm?”

Sam jumped and whirled around. “Grandma! What are you doing up?”

Sitting in a rocking chair, arms crossed firmly across her chest, “Waiting for you.” She looked him over before continuing her inquisition. “What took you so long? I hope you weren’t up to any mischief,” she said.

“No,” he lied. “Of course not. It’s late. I won’t be able to get up for work if I don’t get to bed.”

She made a face.

Quickly averting his eyes from her searching stare,  Sam muttered.“ Goodnight, Grandma,” He beat a hasty retreat to avoid the scrutiny of her sharp eye.

“Goodnight,” she muttered, shaking her head.                     

Sam shut his door, ripped off his clothes and fell into bed and was fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Thanks" - November 26

 

  Welcome! This is Thanksgiving week. So we have an appropriate word prompt, "thanks". We're returning to the world of Colonial America again this week with more of Sam's story. When you're done here, please stop over and read the other stories by our wonderful Tuesday Tales writers. You'll find them HERE. 

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After their intimacy, Violet pushed her skirt down and smoothed the cotton fabric. Sam ran his fingers through his hair. What had he done? Shame filled him. He’d gone over the line and done the one thing Caleb told him not to do. But he couldn’t take it back now.

He wracked his brain, looking for a way out, a way to make it better. While Violet fussed with her hair, an idea great in his brain. Shyly, with a hoarse voice, Sam reached for Violet. He took her arm and gently turned her to face him.

“Violet, I love you. Will you marry me?”

She laughed. “Feeling guilty already?”

“No, no,” Sam lied.

“Yes, you are. If I don’t end up with child, we can simply admit we got carried away. I won’t hold you to your proposal. Here, help me with my dress,” she said, turning her back to him.

He laced up the back, tying and fastening whatever he could see in the dim light before he spoke.

“But I did the wrong thing. I wasn’t a gentleman. I took advantage.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said, patting his cheek.

He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You’re special, Violet.”

She primped one last time. “How do I look?”

Sam leaned back a tad and looked her over. “I’ll be darned. You look like you just stepped out of your house, ready to go to the harvest festival.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Let’s set you to rights,” she said, fussing with his hair and buttoning his shirt. “You’re half naked.”

Cool air on his skin reminded him of his state of undress. He rose to his feet and put his clothing back together. Once he was dressed, he faced her.

“You’re beautiful.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. “I love you, Sam Chesney.”

“Come be my wife. Live with me on my farm.” He stroked her cheek.

She smiled, but kept silent. “I must get home.”

“I’ll speak to your father tomorrow,” he said.

She took his arm and matched her stride to his. “We’ll see.”

Thanks for stopping by. Happy holidays!