The Dogtrot Christmas–Original First Chapter!

I’m moving this week, so I’ve been rummaging through the cellars and attic to find all my possessions.

In honor of that, I’ve unearthed the original opening chapter for my The Dogtrot Christmas.

When I was given the opportunity to “audition” a story for the collection, I sat down that afternoon and put together my proposal and three chapters. I passed them on to my agent immediately.

My agent, Janet Grant,  kindly wrote back to say, “you’ve written a novel, not a novella.”

I had to shorten my story considerably.

To that end, I just moved forward 18 months in the story line and that became The Dogtrot Christmas.

My agent and Barbour liked them and accepted my story.

The Dogtrot Christmas is one of nine novellas in Barbour Publishing’s A Log Cabin Christmas Collection. The collection will be re-released on September 1, for those looking for Christmas short stories already loved by many, many people.

But these three early chapters provide insight and powerful backstory to the person Molly Faires became in the published novella. Here’s chapter one with chapters two and three coming on Wednesday and then Friday.

(This is a bonus feature, as if the novella was a DVD . . .)

Enjoy!

 

 

The Dogtrot Christmas
original chapter

Chapter One

Molly Faires tossed a thick golden braid over her shoulder as she walked through the two- room homestead one last time. She stood on the puncheon floor and remembered her pa laying down the boards and her ma fashioning a new broom to sweep them.

She pulled the shutters closed and in the darkened room strained to remember the laughter and voices now long dead and gone. Surely she could smell the corn pone cooking on the fire, the salty deer jerky they ate in the winter? But it was time to move on and she was ready to go. She hungered for her parents, her big brothers, and especially her sister. The youngest in the family never got enough time.

“Time to go. Are you ready?” The sweet voice of her new sister, one year married to Molly’s lone remaining brother, drifted between the two rooms and found her melancholy ear.

Molly walked out of the sleeping half of the dog-trot to meet Syntha Faires, whose ruddy cheeks gleamed with exertion on that surprisingly warm day. “I took my knife and I cut you these.” Syntha held out a dozen twigs from the lilac bush pa planted back near the outhouse when he first built the homestead. “I don’t know if they will grow inTexas, but we can try.”

Syntha had the gift of encouragement and a surge of thankfulness made Molly hug her close. Against her middle, she could feel the soft push of her niece or nephew responding with Syntha to Molly’s hug.  “Thank you. I’m so glad you thought to take the slips.”

“We’re going to make us a home, just like this one.” Syntha gestured to the house. “I want Jamie to make a me a dog-trot just like your Pa built for your Ma. Pappy says it gets right hot inTexasand we need to keep the cookhouse separated from the living spaces. We’ll find a piece of land in that hill country and place the dog-trot just so it catches the breeze. We’ll put the sleeping space on the right and the kitchen far enough away that two people and a dog can walk between.”

“With a roof on top covering it all.” Molly admired the style with her.

“Point of fact yes.” Syntha patted her expanding belly. “And that’s where I’ll raise my young’en and you can live over the rise with yours.”

“I’ll like that,” Molly said.

“Good. That’s why we’re going with Pappy. Here comes Jamie now, we need to join the wagon train.”

They’d sold all the livestock, save the oxen and the last milk cow Jamie tied to the back of the tidy wagon. “We’re ready to go. They’ve already started crossing the ford.”  The lanky 22 year-old scrutinized his younger wife. “Are you going to ride or walk?”

Syntha set the lilac twigs into the back of the wagon. “Ma says I should walk, so Molly and I will stroll fromTennesseetoTexas.”

Jamie grinned. “You will? You gonna stop somewhere along the way to have your baby?”

“Only if we don’t make good time.”  She took Molly’s arm and they sashayed down the road in front of Jamie’s “gee-haw” to the two oxen.

Down the road they could see a dozen wagons fording shallowMauryCreek. “We better hope the stepping stones are high today or we’re gonna get our feet wet before we even start,” Syntha said.

“You’re braver today than I am.” Molly looked back to the only home she had ever known.

“There’s no choice. My whole family is going toTexas, there’s nothing left for me here inTennessee. And you’re my family now. Everything is ahead of you. You’ll find some handsome man to settle down with and love and have a new family of your own.” Syntha put a dimple in her left cheek. “This is our adventure. We need to enjoy it.”

A young man in deerskins spurred his bay horse across the creek in one jump and rode toward them, the horse’s hooves sparking up chinks of mud. Molly leaned to protect Syntha, but Eli Parker had his mount under control.

“Isn’t it exciting Molly? We’re finally on our way.  To a place where we can claim new land, fight off the Injuns and put together a life they way we want. What do you think?”

“I think you’re still wild Eli Parker,” Molly said, but she leavened her words with a tilt of her chin and a smile.

He reached down and ran his gloved index finger along her chin. “Wild enough to protect you out there, Miss Molly.”

“You be on your way,” Syntha ordered. “I see Pappy is waving for you.”

Eli narrowed his eyes. “I’m good enough for her, Miz Faires.”

“Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb yet? I ain’t seen no baptism. I’ll be waiting for it and rejoicing with all the angels when you go under the water, Eli Parker.”

He wheeled his horse and tossed his head toward the woods, then clenched his knees to pause the animal. Eli leaned forward to stare.

Molly shivered. The Indians were still seen in these woods, and the stories from her family always made her nervous. Ma had warned her many times, you never saw them until it was too late.

They watched him ride like a scout, wide to the north, as they continued to the ford. “You be careful with him. Don’t lead him on. There be plenty of good men in search of wives inTexas. Pappy knows plenty of Hardshells, you don’t need to be mooning over someone whose following religion of the mild kind.”

Molly nodded. Eli may not be the right man for her, but he sure was good looking.

When the reached the ford, John Stewart and his wife Katrina were urging the oxen into the water. Katrina’s red face looked fit to burst.

“Let me help you.”  Molly reached for the lead rope.

“Thank ye.” Katrina gave her the rope and hurried to the side where she retched into the pokeweed.

Syntha took the hands of the two Stewart toddlers. “Ye be in the family way?”

Molly saw the woman nod before she bent over again.

“Thank ye, Miss Molly,” John boomed. A hulking genial Scot who wore a ginger beard, he urged his oxen forward with a firm and loud voice. The creek water spilt over the tops of Molly’s boots and her skirts got wet, but she focused on the job. Her face felt the gust of oxen breath as they lumbered across the rocky bottom of the creek and then climbed the bank beyond.    “The first one creek crossed, hundreds to go. Hey, Johnny!”

Stewart’s five-year old son leaped from stepping stone to stone, nimbly crossing without a splatter. He grinned when he reached their side and swatted his father’s muddy leg. Together they led the oxen down the road following the rest of the wagon train. When they reached a wide spot, Stewart spoke to the boy. “You stay here with Miss Molly while I help your ma across.”

Molly gazed to the woods. She thought she caught the flash of movement behind some of the leafy trees. She pulled Johnny close to her, though he squirmed away. The oxen lowed, the dust rose to clog her nose and Molly wondered just where this adventure would lead.

The Colwell wagon came next and Syntha’s confident sister Kizzie strode up the road, one babe in arms and three trailing behind. Willie drove his oxen from the wagon seat, assured the well-trained animals would obey.  Kizzie showed a rueful smile when she reached Molly.

“He always has show Pappy he can be in control. We’ll see what he does when we hit real water. Are you looking forward toTexas?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Molly stood as upright as she knew how.

Kizzie’s eyes bored into her. “Pappy’s made some converts on the other side of theBrazos. Some of those Mexican-American believers have got some nice spreads.  Make sure you keep your options open until you get toTexas.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The older woman’s face turned sober. “But don’t leave my sister just yet. She may need help with a babe on the road.”

“I won’t. I love Syntha like my own sister.”

Kizzie’s face trembled, just a tic, but she patted Molly’s shoulders. “I miss your sister, too. Come along children.” The Colwell family moved up the road.

Molly watched after them and then remembered the little boy who wanted to get away. “I don’t want a husband yet, Johnny.”

He squinted at her. “Why not, Miss Molly? Everybody needs a man to protect ‘em in the newRepublicofTexas. ”

“Don’t you believe in God, Johnny?”

“Yes, ‘em. But I like him best with skin on and a gun.”

Molly laughed. “We’re going to need God and a gun both where we’re going.”

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