TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PAINT"

 

welcome! This week, we are writing to the word prompt "paint." I have another episode of "Sam's Decision." Don't forget to hop on over and read the other entry today. You'll find it HERE. 

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Martha Chesney cast a shrewd glance at her grandson. She’d painted a lovely picture in her mind of his marrying Becky and living in town, maybe in back of the general store. She’d envisioned great-grandchildren nearby. But the way he’d looked at Violet shattered that dream. Obviously Sam had other ideas.

While she enjoyed a little flirting with Abiel Wilcox, she didn’t trust him. She wondered if he’d been behind this sudden flowering of an attraction between his granddaughter and her grandson.

While Martha didn’t know Violet, she had to admit to herself the girl was the most handsome in the town. A quick vision in her mind of their offspring confirmed they would have the most beautiful children in all of Fitch’s Eddy. Still, she’d always thought Becky would be his intended. She liked Becky and approved of Sam's choice.

Smiling to herself, Martha admitted that she was a mere mortal – who was she to predict who Sam would love and marry? The young man had a mind of his own. And right now she figured his sights were being reset to fall on the lovely Violet Wilcox.

That would make Abiel Wilcox kin. She’d have a hard time shakin’ him off if he kept up his attentions. Looks like Martha would have to create a different picture for herself, along with the one she envisioned for Sam.

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

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SKIN"

 

Welcome! This week our word prompt is "skin". We are still in "Sam's Decision." Don't forget to check out the other authors' stories. Find them HERE. 

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  “How mighty nice to see you again, Mrs. Chesney. You’re looking right fine,” he said.

An attractive blush stained her cheeks. “You clean up nice yourself, Sheriff,” she said. “This way.” Martha led the way to the dining room.

Abigail, Caleb, Lizzy, and Jem were already seated at a table near the kitchen. Sam poured cider for them and took his seat. Violet sashayed up to Sam and held out two peppermints.

“Do you like peppermint, Mr. Chesney,” she said, peeking out from under her long black lashes.

Sam turned so fast, he almost spilled the contents of the pitcher. His gaze traveled her length and color suffused his cheeks. “I sure do, Miss Wilcox. I sure do. Thank you,” he said as she placed the candies in his palm, then curled his fingers over the gift.

Abiel watched her spin her web around Sam Chesney. His granddaughter dripped charm – a quality he hadn’t paid much mind to before. He smiled to himself. Sam didn’t stand a chance against Violet’s powers of seduction.

Sam popped one in his mouth. “Did you make these yourself, Miss Wilcox?” he asked.

“I did, indeed.”

“Mighty fine,” Sam said. “Best I’ve ever et.”

“I made apple tarts, too, this afternoon. You’re most welcome to stop by after supper and sample one,” Violet made eye contact with Sam before lowering her gaze.

“Mighty obliged. Thank you.”

Hope shot a knowing look at her father, who gave a slight nod in return.

Martha narrowed her gaze. “Don’t dillydally, Sam. Get to pourin’. People are hungry and thirsty. We got to get this meal goin’.”

The Lee family took their seats. Sam finished filling the glasses and returned to his seat.

“Lizzy!” Martha called.

The young girl scurried into the kitchen. She carried out each bowl filled to the brim with steaming rabbit stew. When all were served, Lizzy brought out loaves of bread and sweet butter and set them on each table.

Sam shifted in his chair so he could see Violet. As he ate, he lifted his gaze from his fork to her face. He’d been told it wasn’t polite to stare, but outside of Becky, he’d never see such a beautiful girl. Candlelight reflect in the silky black of her hair. The graceful shape of her face, the gentle rosiness of her skin, along with the delicate blue of her eyes captivated him.

He rested his gaze on her slender neck and shoulders. Barely able to tear his eyes away from the gentle swell of her breasts showing above the lacy neckline of her frock, he blushed when his mother cleared her throat. She leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“It’s not polite to stare. Even at a girl as pretty as Violet.”

That's it. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "FLUSH"

 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write to word prompts. This week the word prompt is "flush". Any form of the word is acceptable. Today's segment is from my work-in-progress, "Sam's Decision," book 3 in the historical romance series, "The Catskills Saga." 

Read on, then hop on over and read the excellent stories by the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE. 

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Just before the Wilcox family reached the Inn. Hope put her hand on Violet’s arm. They stopped.

“You know what to do, right?” she asked her daughter.

Violet nodded.

“You sure?”

“Your future rests on this, young lady,” Abiel said, his lips pulled down into a frown.

“I know,” Violet said, her eyes flashing. “I gotta win him over.”

“If you’d have listened to me about that no-account Zeb…”

“I know Grandpa! I know!” Violet put her hands over her ears.  “He’s not a no-account.”

“Oh? Then where is he? Now that you’re in a fix, he’s gone. I’d like to fix his flint,” Abiel said fisting his right hand.

“Don’t let Sam Chesney know you got designs on him. Let him think you just cotton to him natural like,” Hope said.

“Okay! All right!” Violet's cheek flushed.

“Hush. They’ll hear you,” Hope said, fluffing out Violet’s skirt.

“She do look mighty pretty in that frock, Hope,” Abiel said.

“Purple is her best color. I don’t see how any young man in his right mind could resist such a pretty girl,” Hope gushed.

Abiel pursed his lips. At least she wasn’t showing yet. Sam would never know. The Sheriff tried to push thoughts about what he had asked his granddaughter to do out of his head. He wished there was another way, but he had to guard her honor and the honor of the Wilcox name.

Violet pulled out a small bag from her pocket. “I hope he likes peppermints,” she mumbled.

“Never met a man in his right mind who didn’t,” Abiel said, opening the door to the Inn.

The Wilcox family crossed the threshold.

“Well, well, how nice to see you folks,” Martha said, scurrying out from the kitchen and taking off her apron.

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

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "ORANGE"

 

Howdy do! Welcome to Tuesday Tales where authors write stories to word prompts. This week we have a peek into Abiel Lee's plot to get Sam Chesney married to his daughter from "Sam's Decision". When you're done, hop on over and read the other stories by the wonderful TT authors. Find them HERE. 

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But first he needed to get Violet situated before people guessed about her condition. Returning from his walk to the Inn, he settled himself in his favorite chair as Hope prepared tea.

“Violet?” he called. “Come in here.”

“Yes, Grandpapa,” she said, scurrying into the room. She slid onto the seat next to him. “What is it?”

“It’s time we had a plan. Sam Chesney is looking for a wife. He plans to have his own farm. That would be perfect for you, dear. You could live there with him and no one would ever know that you were with child before you married him.”

“But Sam is sweet on Becky Rhodes.”

“I happen to know for a fact that she turned him down this morning.”

“She did?” Violet asked, her blue eyes growing wide. “Why’d she do that?”

Abiel cleared his throat. If he told his granddaughter why Becky said “no”, Violet would never agree to marry Sam. Although he didn’t want her to become a farmhand either, it beat becoming the town pariah, shunned by all.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “Maybe she’s not as sweet on Sam as you thought.”

Violet shrugged. “He’s sure a handsome one,” she said.

“You like him?” Abiel asked, raising his eyebrows. This was going to be like catching fish in a barrel.

“He’s always been polite to me. But he’s in love with Becky.”

“Not anymore. Now he’s all yours for the taking,” Abiel said. "As easy as plucking an orange from an orange tree."

Hope moved to her daughter’s side. “He’s right, dear. Sam Chesney would be a good choice for you. He’s hard-working, from what I hear.”

“But how can I get him to propose to me?” Violet asked.

“Hope  - advise the child, and fetch my pipe,” he said, then rose from his chair and headed for the door. “We’re dining at the Inn tonight. You can work your charm on Mr. Chesney then.”

With that comment, Abiel stuffed his pipe in his pocket and opened the door. Loathe to hear the conversation between the two women, he beat a hasty retreat to his garden.

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

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. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BURNED"

 

 Greetings! 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week we're writing to the word prompt "burned". I have another segment of my work-in-progress, "Sam's Decision." Hop on over to read all the wonderful Tuesday Tales stories. Find them HERE. 

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“But since I’m here, I can stay to visit a while,” he said, cupping her cheek. “You’re looking right plump.”

“Can you stay for dinner?” she asked. “We’re having venison stew.”

“Sure can. Thank you.” Visions of the meat, roasted potatoes, and freshly baked cake danced in his head.

“Charles, please tell Collette we’ll have another at the table,” Sarah said, taking her brother’s arm. “And please tell her we’ll have tea in the parlor now,” she said.

“Yes, Missus.”

Charles turned toward the kitchen while Sarah guided Sam to the spacious room. Sarah flopped down on the largest sofa and patted the seat next to her. Sam joined her.

“I was in town today,” she said.

“Oh?” Sam raised his eyebrows. 

                                                                                            

“Yes. Had to pick up some things at the General Store.”

“You saw Becky?” Sam shifted in his seat.

“Yep. We had a good long talk.”

“Oh?” Sweat beaded on Sam’s forehead. “What did she tell you?”

Sarah slapped his shoulder. “What do you mean about getting a farm? Asking Becky to marry you just to become a farm hand? Huh? You’re doing so well at the smith shop. Why would you want to have a farm?”

“It’s my dream,” Sam said, jutting out his chin. “

“You have forgotten how hard papa worked – night and day, just to put food on our table.”

“But we ate good, didn’t we?”

“We got by, that’s all. We all worked on the farm. Without a family, how are you going to make it work?”

“I don’t need a family. I ain’t plowin’ and plantin’ all forty acres. I’ll plant only what we can manage. We only need enough food for ourselves. Being two people, how much can we eat?”

“What happens when you become three?”

Sam’s eyes glittered at the prospect of what becoming a father entailed. Then his expression sobered. “We’ll manage.”

“Who’s we? Becky ain’t gonna marry you.”

“She ain’t the only woman in this town!” Sam bolted up from his seat. “You’re pretty high and mighty now that you got a rich husband. Who you be telling me what I should or shouldn’t do?” 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I just want you to be happy. And I don’t think you’ll be happy married to anyone but Becky.”

“She got pretty high and mighty, too. The females in this town burn me up. What's got into y'all, anyway? Think you can push a man around? I make my own decisions.”

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