Web Blog of Connie Vines, author or multi-genre fiction. Awards: H.O.L.T. Medallion (Honoring Outstanding Literary Talent), Orange Rose, Award of Excellence--Contemporary Romance; Independent eBook Award, Dream Realm Award. National Book Award and Frankfurt Book Award, nominee--YA Historical Fiction. Blog includes guest bloggers and snippets of WIP.
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Welcome back. This week, more from White Heart, Lakota Spirit. Hope you are enjoying the read.
She gazed at the hills where sunburned and smelly men searched every day for the elusive gold. Rumors had exaggerated its abundance, but that didn’t dampen Papa’s spirit; he was determined to find the mother lode. The sea of browning grass around her whipped in the breeze, stirred her loneliness, and turned her insides hollow. Her eyes misted. How long did Papa expect her and Mama to sit idle all day? A person could only do so many chores while conserving water in this…this purgatory. Grace raised her gaze skyward. “Please God, let Papa find gold soon, so we can get back to civilization.”
“Grace, dear!” The sweet sound of Mama’s voice interrupted her prayer. “Get the flour and salt out of the wagon. We’ll be needin’ some biscuits to go with the beans for dinner. Papa and Kevin will be hungry when they come down from the mountain.”
Great! Beans again. What she wouldn’t give for some variety.
She shook her head. How could Mama call this place home?
Grace climbed on the wagon tailgate and searched through the food bin, and finding what she needed, slid back down to the ground.
“Got ‘em, Mama,” she called. “If you want, I’ll make the biscuits.”
At least helping with dinner gave her something to do.
A shelf bolted to the wagon bed served as a work area. Grace
made space for her bowl and mixed together the floury concoction
to bake in a Dutch oven. She longed for the luxury of the cook
stove in their last home, despite not being there long enough to
truly enjoy it. Papa had traded a team of horses for the old iron
giant, and Mama had claimed she’d died and gone to heaven when
he and Kevin toted it inside.
Grace stopped stirring and sighed, staring blankly at the white
expanse of wagon bonnet in front of her. The family had had more
homes than she could count. Mama always told her they moved so
much because Papa was born under a wandering star. Sometimes
Grace wished it would fall to the earth like other shooting stars