Showing posts with label Storm's Refuge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storm's Refuge. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 18, 2022

To Write or Not to Write by Nancy M Bell

 


To explore more of Nancy's books click on the cover above. 


I'm working on another installment of the A Longview Romance series. Storm's Refuge was the first book, which was followed by Come Hell or High Water and A Longview Wedding. Michelle is the heroine in the first three books and her life is turned upside down when her supposed fiance comes home from the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas married to someone else. 
Rob Chetwynd, the fiance in question, has played a role in the first three books, but this time I'm sharing how the impromptu Vegas wedding comes about. Kayla's Cowboy is the title and is told from Kayla's POV. How she meets Rob and how their relationship progresses is certainly a work in progress.  
I'm struggling with how to bring these two disparate characters together. Kayla is an accomplished dressage rider who is at the NFR to give a demonstration of her sport. Her sponsors have arranged the whole thing and have sent another horse and rider pair along as well. Kayla and Anna split the duties with one of them doing the riding and the other providing the commentary on a rotating basis. This is all okay until Anna's horse, Arizona, gets cast in the stall and unable to perform, which puts added  pressure on Kayla and Wellington. 
Anna's a bit of a party animal and she brings Rob and his pal into Kayla's orbit. She thinks the cocky, but admittedly sexy, cowboy is an adrenaline junkie for getting on rough stock not to mention enraged bulls.  But, things take some twists and turns and she is thrown into his company more and more. Somehow, the cockiness wears off and a more vulnerable side of Rob comes to the forefront.
He confesses that, while he and Michelle have been friends forever, and everyone in Longview expects them to get married, Rob isn't in love with Michelle that way. His mother is pushing him to get on with it, and Michelle is certainly unaware of his reservations, added to the pressure is the fact his late father's dying wish was that Rob and Michelle get married and combine the Wilson and Chetwynd  ranches. Rob isn't ready to settle down with Michelle and he sure as hell isn't ready to quit the rodeo road.
That's it so far, now I've just got to figure out how Kayla agrees to marry him. She noticing the chinks in his armour and as a woman who was raised by her aunt after her parents died, she realizes how Rob's cocky facade is just a front to hide the face he's fighting his own demons. 
So, to write or not to write, the dreaded writers block. I keep turning my characters this way and that and trying to figure out how they fit together. <sigh> 
I know this dilemma should help me deal with the Covid isolation blues, but somehow it just doesn't seem to be working. I'm into Covid Winter x 2 and not liking it at all. Hopefully, either Kayla or Rob will cosy up with my muse and help me out here.

Until next month, happy writing. Stay warm, stay safe and stave off the dreaded writer's block.

Nancy 

Saturday, December 18, 2021

Christmas Memories by Nancy M Bell

 

To discover more about Storm and this Christmas tale as well as Nancy's other books click on the cover.


We always put the tree up on December 20th as that is my birthday. Mom and Dad never wanted to put the tree up earlier than that as we always had a real tree and they worried that it would dry out.

We had these really cool bubble lights that were all different colors but got really hot when you left them on too long. There was a fluffy white angel on top.

One Christmas Eve when we were still outside in the driveway just getting out of the car Wendy and I got a huge surprise.  There, coming down the Cooney’s driveway, who were our next door neighbors, was Santa Claus! 

 We both screamed and then bolted for the back door.  If Santa came while were still up and awake he wouldn’t leave us anything.  We tore through the back door into the kitchen and down the back hall to the bedroom.  With our wet snow boots and coats still on Wendy and I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers over our heads.  I had a harder time getting into bed as I had to climb up into the top bunk, but I made it.  Mom and Dad came in and tried to get us to take off our coats and boots and change into night clothes.  Wendy and I wouldn’t budge, we were pretending to be asleep so that Santa would leave our presents.  We were sure that he was coming to our house any moment because we KNEW he just next door and he hadn’t been to our house next.  He must have already been to Jo-anne and John Lee’s place because they lived on the other side of the Cooneys, so we had to be next.  Mom and Dad must have removed our boots after we were asleep because they were gone in the morning.  And Santa did leave our presents for us that year. 

Things changed in 1964, June was married and living on Homestead Ave with Butch and my brother Timmy was born in July.  So Christmas 1964 was a little different.  There was one more of us to track all over the city to visit my aunts.

Sometime in the 1960’s Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy and Cindy and Tammy-Lori moved to Toronto.  My Grandma and Grandpa Rafter moved from Constance Lake near Ottawa and bought a little store on Davis Lake, near Kinmount.  Every winter they would come to Toronto and stay with Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy, so now we had even more excitement and visiting on Christmas Eve.  We often went to Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy’s for New Year’s dinner.  The turkey dressing was always yucky, it had so much sage in it ( which Gramma Rafter LOVED) and sometimes sausage. Not my favorite part of the meal I’ll tell you.  There was always way too much to eat, tons of turkey and cranberries, mashed potatoes and gravy.

 Our Christmas dinner at home was always large.  June and Butch and their sons Geoff, Peter and Terry would come. My Aunt Frances and Uncle Jim came on Christmas afternoon early and brought their sausage dog with them.  The first dog I remember was Sandy who was quite portly and smelled like DOG.  He would bite my dad if he tried to discipline us in front of him.  We liked Sandy.  Sandy would also dance with us, running around while we pranced around laughing.  Aunt Frances always gave us Avon for Christmas and her packages were always decorated with cool stuff. Uncle Jim is my mother’s only brother and he has one daughter Marilyn who lives in the States.  There would also be My Gramma and Grampa Pritchard who lived with us, Wendy and me and Timmy.  Mom would pull the big table with all the leaves in it out into the middle of our small living room and the table would stretch from the front window to the door to the kitchen.  It was set with these cool plates that we only used at Christmas, all pale yellow ,blue and pink around the edges with white roses in the centre.  Mom used her good silverware that Dad bought her one year for Christmas and a tablecloth that never seemed to escape the cranberries or the gravy. Our small house was full of the smell of turkey and gravy and boiling potatoes.  There never seemed to be enough room but somehow everyone managed to get seated at the table and Dad would carve the turkey. Wendy and I would fight over the drumsticks, although in later times Timmy always got one.

 Dad had this movie camera that required a bar of really bright lights in order to film anything.  In most of film from those years we all look like moles that have wandered into the sunlight.  Our faces are red (the lights were hot) and our eyes all squinted shut. Timmy running around with his diapers drooping off his butt.  Wendy always made sure her hair was combed and she looked presentable before going upstairs. Me, not so much. 

So much has changed since then. Places at the table hold different faces now, but the magic still holds us in hollow of its hand. Christmas Joy and Peace to you and yours, in this season and throughout the year.

 


 


Friday, December 18, 2020

Christmas Memories by Nancy M Bell

 

Storm's Refuge takes place at Christmas and gives a stay dog a start at a new life. To find out more about Nancy's books click on the cover.  

Many years ago, I lived on a little farm in Uxbridge Ontario. I'm please to share A Brandy Hollow Christmas with you. This was originally written in 1987.

There is nothing quite like a country Christmas, in this fast paced world it is a very few of us wo have the chance to live with nature rather than against it. I am lucky enough to live on a small farm and experience the joys of working with the land. Recently we sold this farm and I began to say good-bye to all the little things that are so much a part of living here. Suddenly, I realized that this Christmas I wouldn't be in my little house in the hollow. Perhaps because I won't be in Brandy Hollow this year I want to share the Christmas' we did enjoy here.

The times when the snow bloomed against my living room window and laced the cedar trees, bending the woods beneath its weight. In the new light of morning the children and the dogs make tracks across the virgin blanket of the lawn, and the horses when we turn them out blow the snow up in puffs with their snorts and then roll and run and roll again. I want to share the special stillness there is here after a snow fall and especially a Christmas snow. The sun just catching the top of the cedars and the birch in the barnyard and the blue jays and the chickadees already searching for seeds. The gentle hand of the morning air sending sparkles dancing from the delicate fingers of the snow dressed trees. The warm smell of horses and hay when you step into the barn from the frosty stillness of early morning.

The warm glow of my little living room, the sun coming in the window, a fire in the woodstove and the Christmas tree taking over the living room. Every year we re-arrange the furniture so we can fit the tree in and by Christmas morning there are presents under the tree, on the tree, around the tree and presents across the floor and in front of the hearth as well. The cats just waiting for all that lovely ribbon and paper to be theirs.  The lovely peace of Christmas Eve when the children are asleep and the old folks are waiting for Santa. Jessie and Josh, the dogs, sleeping on the hooked rug my Grandfather Pritchard made by the stove, joined by most of our five house cats. There is that special thrill of anticipation that comes on only on Christmas Eve. The warm feeling of the love that goes with the presents. The sharing of joy in giving that special gift. The dark quietness of the night, moonlight throwing blue and silver shadows on the snow as i go out to the barn to tuck the horses in on this most special of nights. The music of the wind in the trees and the starfire crackling in the stillness as I take a Christmas walk around the pond and savour the opportunity to say my own private Thank You to the spirit who created al this wonder.

There is a peace on this farm and always a feeling of love. As this this house and this land have always been loved and blessed. But never is the feeling so strong as at Christmas. All things find refuge here. Strays find their way to my door, both wild and tame and human as well as animal. This is a safe place and a healing place. There is that little bit of Christmas love here all year.

One of the best things about Christmas is the love, the giving. It is the one time in the year we can hug someone and not embarrass them or ourselves, or kiss someone and say the things we think all year but never find the words to say.

This year I'm leaving my little farm and I will miss it terribly. But I will never lose the peace or the love that it has given me. And always I'll carry that little piece of Brandy Hollow Christmas in my heart.

My Christmas wish for you and yours is that you will know the peace and joy that Christmas brings. And that 'all things wise and wonderful' and 'all things bright and beautiful' will be yours.

I wish you a Brandy Hollow Christmas.

Nancy



  

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Storm's Refuge and our foray into audio books by Nancy M Bell



To find out more about Nancy's books click on the cover.

The world of audio books is relatively new to me and I was thrilled when my publisher decided to put Storm's Refuge into production. It's kind of weird to hear my words spoken by someone I don't even know and to hear my characters come to life, so to speak. The whole process was pretty painless. First I chose a short excerpt as a sample, then it was posted on the ACX site as a proposal for narrators to consider. There are also many narrators to choose from with samples of their various 'voices' and accents to choose from. You can narrow it down to female or male, certain age and regional accents etc. It was pretty cool listening to how one person could change their delivery just by altering cadence and pronunciation of vowels etc.
Fortunately, someone liked Storm and agreed to narrate for us. All this was done through the publisher's ACX account. Georgia Bragg is my narrator, and I was thrilled to find out she is an Albertan and as my book is set in Alberta, the accent and manner of speaking rings true to the characters. I had the pleasure of meeting Georgia in the beautiful hamlet of Bragg Creek, AB. If any of you are familiar with the TV show North of 60, you'll be pleased to know that Bragg Creek and surrounding area was the stand in for Lynx River. If you're ever in the area be sure to visit Bragg Creek and nearby Elbow Falls.

This is just a taste of the beauty that awaits you. Photo credit High Country News


It took a few months to produce 6+ hours of narration. Georgia did a wonderful job of keeping true to my characters and infusing them with humour and tension in all the right places. After months of reviewing and listening I'm happy to say Storm's Refuge is live on Audible. If you're interested in listening click here.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

www.nancymbell.ca

Monday, December 18, 2017

Happy Holidays and Greetings of the Season by Nancy M Bell



Christmas Storm (also published as Storm's Refuge) Click on the cover to find the buy links.

All Michelle wants for Christmas is peace of mind. The only thing bigger than the storm in her heart is the blizzard raging across the Alberta prairie outside her window. Finding an injured stray dog is the last thing she needs. Add to the mix the handsome new vet who is taking over her beloved Doc’s practice and peace of mind is not in the picture. Cale Benjamin is too nice to be for real. Michelle is still smarting from being jilted by her high school sweetheart fiancĂ© and not in the mood to trust any man, let alone one as drop dead gorgeous as Dr. Cale Benjamin DVM. The injured stray, Storm, keeps putting Michelle in Cale’s path whether she likes it or no. She is distressed to find that the handsome young vet is sliding past her carefully erected defenses and into her heart. A few well placed nudges from Doc’s match maker wife, Mary, help the young doctor’s cause, but will it be enough to make the lady rancher allow him into her life?

As a Christmas treat I'd like to share a short story I wrote quite a while ago that has never found a home. It is a work of fiction but rooted in the experiences I've had working with rescuing animals and working with an accredited animal rescue, It's called Snow Moon and there really was a Snow, although I knew her as Lily. It's a little over 5,000 words.
I hope you enjoy. Wishing you the very best that 2018 has to offer. May your year be Merry and Bright.



This is Lily after she was adopted. She enjoys the good life now. Here she is on her own island near Victoria. She's come a long way, baby.


Snow Moon
Nancy M Bell © 2017

Sap snapped in the thin branches overhead. Frigid Arctic air froze the tiny trickle of life beneath the bark. Black shadows snaked across the moonlit snow at Sydney’s feet. Above the frost-bound prairie the brilliant orb of the full moon shed silvery light, which hid more than it illuminated.
Dry snow squeaked beneath her boots as she pushed further into the thicket. Ice formed on her lashes from her tearing eyes, the sides of her nostrils sticking together when she inhaled the minus thirty degree air. A small shape lay in a blue-shadowed hollow under the bush to her right. Sydney leaned down and scooped up the brown sparrow in her palm. She deposited the bird in the inner pocket of her down jacket and hastily zipped it back up. The poor thing might be dead already, or only fallen out of the tree overcome by the cold. If it was frozen it wouldn’t hurt to carry it, and if it still had a shot at living, the warmth from her body would give it a chance to survive.
She must be crazy to be out here in the middle of the night. The stars wavered starkly in the clear sable sky. There was no cloud cover to act as insulation and hold a tiny bit of warmth near the ground. It was too cold to snow.
The woman backed out of the tangled web of diamond willow and dogwood and turned to scan the undulating prairie to the west. The sound of snow creaking underfoot carried clearly across the frozen expanse. Sydney took a step back into the shadow of the thicket and held her breath. The beating of her heart seemed to echo in silence, the footsteps came nearer and she cursed herself for being a fool. Her trail was sharply etched in the blue silver snow, leading whoever it was straight to where she lurked in the low trees.
Eyes narrowed against the cold, she peered through the screen of interlaced twigs before her. Without warning someone grasped her shoulder from behind. Her hand raised to strike if need be she whirled to face the heavily muffled figure.
“Sydney, for God’s sake what are doing out here?” Sam’s voice was incredulous and angry at the same time. “I thought you were a poacher after the deer.”
White mist frosted the air between them when she released a huge breath of relief. She shivered and moved further into the bushes to avoid the slight breath of wind that touched her face with a searing icy sword.
“Millie called. Said James threw the white dog out of the shed to make room for his snowmobile.” She coughed, her throat protesting the cold air.
“So you’re out here because…? The dog will find somewhere to hole up.” Sam took her elbow and drew her toward the road where her car waited.
Sydney dug her heels in and pulled him to a halt. “Snow is pregnant, due any day. She’ll freeze, and if she doesn’t, the puppies will when she whelps. The front isn’t supposed to move for at least a week.” She gripped his arm and stared into his eyes that glittered black in the moonlight. “You know what’ll happen…”
“Yup.” He grunted. “Where have you looked already?” A resigned smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Just this clump of bushes and a bit near Millie’s.”
“I saw your car parked there twenty minutes ago. It’s too cold to stay out here much longer.” Hard fingers gripped her arm and Sam dragged her toward the road.
“But, Snow…” The words trailed off, her fingers wouldn’t work properly and she pawed ineffectually at her scarf.
“We’ll find the damn dog, I’d just rather not freeze to death before we do,” he muttered and continued toward the parked vehicle.
Sydney followed reluctantly, the snow was half way to her knees and her legs wouldn’t co-operate. Sam stopped abruptly and swung her up into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise although she didn’t struggle. Maybe she had stayed out a tad too long.
He set her on the ground when they reached the car and held out his hand for her keys. She fumbled at the dome on her pocket. With a muttered oath, the man shoved her fingers away and delved into the pocket himself. Tiny fissions of tension raced across her skin when his searching hand rubbed against her hipbone. She drew in a quick breath and ignored Sam’s questioning look. The hand withdrew and he turned his back to open the door.
Sydney crawled awkwardly onto the seat. The earlier pain in her hands and lower body was gone. Idly, the thought crossed her mind she should be worried about that fact. Sam’s presence filled the car and made it seem small. He inserted the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.
“Thank God, you have the sense to come out here with a full tank of fuel,” he said.
From a distance she heard him curse again and then put the car in gear. He backed out of the gateway and headed toward his house.
“Snow, we didn’t find Snow yet,” Sydney’s words came out all jumbled. “Snow,” she tried again. When he didn’t pause she knocked the steering wheel with her hands.
“Stop, for God’s sake, woman,” Sam growled. “We’ll find the dog, but not before you get warm. The car won’t warm up fast enough and you’re already hypothermic.”
“You promise we’ll go look for her after I thaw out?” Moonlight threw his features into stark relief when she turned her head to gauge if he was telling the truth.
“Promise. You won’t do the dog any good if you’re face down in a drift. Nobody would find you ‘til spring and by then the coyotes will have had a good feed,” his voice was gruff.
“You’d find me,” Sydney muttered. “You did find me.”
“Try asking for help sometimes, woman. Before you go haring off across the prairie in weather like this,” his voice softened. “You know I always have time to help out. I got an injured dog at the house right now.”
“Which dog?” Sydney perked up.
“The big shepherd that was hanging out at the casino. Jason shot him ‘cause they couldn’t catch him and he wouldn’t scat.”
“Harvey? They shot Harvey?” her voice sharpened and sorrow gathered in her chest. “How bad is it?”
“Caught him in the shoulder; hit the bone but I don’t think it broke anything.”
Sam brought her car to a halt by the back door of his house. He threw it into park and got out. Snow squealed under his feet as he came around to Sydney’s door and pulled it open. She attempted to get out, but Sam leaned down and picked her up. Kicking the door shut with his foot he carried her toward the house.
Sydney closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. The insides of her eyelids were cold and her eyes watered. Could eyes freeze, she wondered aimlessly before her thoughts skittered away. The mudroom was blessedly warm when Sam shouldered their way through the entry. Without stopping he continued on into the kitchen, pushing the adjoining door open and then closed with his foot.
Her face burned in the heated air and she raised a hand to rub her cheeks as he set her on a wing chair near the wood stove. Sam caught her hand.
“Don’t touch your face ‘til it warms up some. You got a bit of frostbite but it should be okay if you don’t rub it.” He waited until she nodded before releasing her hand.
“Where’s Harvey?” Sydney managed to remove her mitts and scarf, her face burned and itched and she needed something to distract her from the discomfort of her warming body. A tail thumped on the floor behind her.
“Right here, he’s coming along pretty good.” Sam poured hot water from the kettle over a tea bag in the cup in his hand.
She had been too focussed on her discomfort to realize what he was doing before. Sydney wrapped her chilled hands around the warm pottery, closing her eyes against the sharp tingling in her fingers. A chair scraped and the table moved slightly as Sam sat across from her. She opened her eyes and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. It annoyed her when cold made her eyes water. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out the little bird. It stirred in her hand and she smiled at Sam.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked.
“Found it under a bush, maybe it’ll be okay. At least it has a chance now,” she replied.
He took the tiny body from her palm, placed it in a small cage and set it near the stove.
Harvey thumped his tail on the floor again and Sam offered the dog a biscuit from the jar on the table. The big shepherd eyed it for a moment, sniffed it suspiciously and then taking it carefully in his mouth, spat it out onto the cushioned bed he lay on to inspect it. Satisfied nothing was amiss, he wolfed it down in one gulp.
“Aye, you should chew, man.” Amusement coloured Sam’s voice.
Sydney slipped from her seat and knelt beside the large tri-coloured animal. The top of his huge wedge-shaped head was bigger than her hand. She ran her fingers behind his ear and scratched before sliding down to inspect the shoulder. There was some swelling around the bandage, but no blood marred the covering. Bending close she sniffed and was relieved at the absence of the sickly sweet smell of pus and infection.
Sam knelt beside her, his presence somehow warm and comforting. Gentle hands loosened the dressing and pulled it away. The bullet hole was clean, a round gaping hole in the patch of shaved hide. The edges of the wound were bright red, seeping a little blood and clear serum.
“Is the bullet out?” Sydney accepted the cloth soaked in antiseptic and wiped the site before handing it back and taking the tube of antibiotic cream. Her fingers touched Sam’s and she was surprised by the surge of electricity it generated. Must be the frostbite. With swift, sure movements she coated the area with the ointment and handed the tube back to him. She wiped her hands on a towel laid nearby for that purpose, and sat back to let Sam put a new dressing on.
“Yeah, it hit the bone and didn’t get into the muscle so it came out easy enough. Bruised the bone some though.”
“Did you talk to the vet over at Eagle Mountain?
Worry creased her forehead. Harvey was a stray, a rez dingo, belonging to no one. When they were injured, they either lived or died without assistance. Vets were expensive and besides, most of the feral dogs were incredibly hard to catch. She’d been trying to convince Harvey for six months that he would be better off if he let her catch him and find him a forever home.
“I called Dr. Carl, he gave me some penicillin and checked the wound after I got the lead out,” Sam reassured her.
“Sure wouldn’t kill them to do some pro bono work, but I guess they gotta make a living too.” Sydney tried to keep the annoyance from her voice.
A gust of wind hit the window with a bang, windblown snow hissed and whispered around the eaves. She stood up and reached for her mitts.
“I’m warm now, we gotta find Snow. If she whelps with this wind the poor things will freeze before they get all the way born.” Sydney wound her scarf around her head while she spoke. Her thoughts involuntarily straying to the litter she found earlier in the week. The momma’s teats were frostbitten, three puppies were barely alive and three more were frozen to the side of the makeshift dog house. Not Snow’s puppies, she vowed.
“Hang on, I’ll call Millie and see if she’s seen her,” the big man offered.
“Let’s hope,” she agreed without much enthusiasm, although she supposed she should be grateful the woman called her at all.
Sam’s voice rumbled as he conversed on the phone in the other room. He entered the kitchen and snapped his cell phone closed. He set a bowl of food in front of Harvey and gave him quick pat on the head.
“Be good and don’t wreck the place while I’m gone,” he joked. “Millie said she didn’t think the dog would go far. James has been trying to run her off for weeks now and she keeps coming back.”
“Maybe she’s holed up around the buildings somewhere. I did look there at first, but James scares the crap out of me at night. When’s he’s drinking he’ll shoot at anything,” Sydney spoke over her shoulder as they left the building.
“Jay ain’t a bad guy, Sydney. He just gets a little trigger happy when he’s drunk,” Sam defended the old man.
“Yeah well, it’s just I prefer my hide without holes in it, if you don’t mind,” she replied tartly.
“And such a pretty hide it is, too,” Sam muttered almost too low for her to make out the words.
She stopped dead by his truck and he bumped into her. She turned abruptly and looked up at him.
“What did you say?”
She cursed silently when her words came out high and thin. Tiny white spheres of the moon’s reflection flared in the ebony depths of his eyes. Mesmerized for a moment by the flickering image, she caught her breath as he leaned toward her. Warmth wafted over her cheek and then he pulled the door open and gave her a tiny shove. The spell effectively broken, Sydney got in and fastened her seatbelt while Sam shut the door.
“I said you had a pretty hide.” His expression was unreadable in the shadow of the vehicle as he slid into the driver seat. He had left her vehicle running so it would be warm when she had to leave. The exhaust rose in a vertical plume toward the star specked sky.
She bit her lip and gazed at the moonlit night. Snow squealed under the tires as Sam put the truck in gear and drove out the lane. Millie and James’ place was a quarter mile down the gravel road. Wild yipping and drawn out high pitched howls echoed in the air. The wind blew fitfully; throwing eddies and snow devils across the fields before dying into silence.
“Sounds like the ‘yotes have got a kill,” Sam observed.
“Let’s hope it isn’t Snow,” Sydney said grimly.
He turned the truck into the narrow rutted lane with diamond willow and caragana brush crowding the sides. Lights were on in the house at the top of the high centred drive. There was no use in asking for help. Millie wouldn’t have let her husband know she talked to Sam about the dog. Sam parked in the shadow of the old barn. The structure tilted drunkenly to the southeast, bent that way by the strong Chinook winds that came out of the west and the brutal north wind of winters past.
Sydney left the truck, careful not to slam the door. No need to have anyone out here wondering why they were scrounging around in the sheds. The truck was running for warmth, but the lights were out. She hoped the whine of the wind would hide the sound of the motor. Rusty hinges squealed shrilly when Sam pulled the door open. Old machinery and junk littered the interior. Moonlight fell in irregular stripes across the mess.
“Snow, there’s a good girl, are you here?” Sam called his breath ghosting around his head in the frigid air.
“Snow, where’s my girl,” Sydney entreated.
They stood in silence, holding their breath in order to hear the slightest shuffle or movement. Only the scurry of tiny mice feet greeted them.
“She’s not here. She always comes to me,” Sydney said.
They left the building, shoving the door shut behind them. Two granaries stood behind the barn and some old truck caps were strewn about under the winter-bare aspen trees. Sam moved to check beneath the caps where the feral dogs often took refuge. Sydney checked both granaries, the doors flapping slightly in the wind. The first one held nothing more than the leg bone of a moose, gnawed on and discarded by whichever dog had dragged it there. The second was empty as well. She glanced toward Sam who straightened up from the cap he was peering into and shook his head.
“Damn,” she cursed. Her fingers were freezing again, the tips already dead to the touch. She closed her eyes for a moment and held her breath. Who would have ever guessed that breathing could sound so loud in the silence? She detected nothing beyond the rustle of the few dead leaves still clinging to the bare branches and the sibilant sound of snow slipping across the frozen surface on the wind’s breath.
Sam moved toward her. She opened her eyes at the sound of his footsteps. He nodded at some buildings closer to the house and held his finger to his lips. He took the lead and Sydney followed in his wake. The first was an abandoned outhouse, thankfully empty.
A door banged, the noise echoing sharply in the stillness. Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadow of the building. The hens in the coop near the house raised an alarm, screeching and flapping their wings loudly. A man’s voice cut through the cacophony, followed by the report of a gun. The hens fell silent and four dark shapes raced across the moonlit snow behind the coop.
“Damn coyotes,” the man cursed and fired another round of buckshot after them. The throaty roar of the shotgun vibrated in the night.
Footsteps crunched across the broken snow by the house and then the door slammed shut.
The shed that housed the snow machine was closer to the house, not far from the chicken coop. The hens settled down in a few minutes, which was a very good thing. Sydney’s feet were rapidly growing dangerously cold again. Moving quietly, she followed Sam toward the shed. He pulled the broken door open slightly and slid through. Sydney moved on, reluctant to take the chance of being caught in the building. She checked the leeward side of the structure instead, searching behind the boards and piles of junk leaning against it.
Desperation drove her out into the light on the side closest the house. As she worked her way to the back end a small noise caught her attention. She dropped to her knees and dug under an old sofa covered with a tarp.
“Snow,” she whispered. “Good girl, are you here, dog?”
An almost inaudible whine came from deeper under the tarp. Sydney wriggled further into the opening. It was a good thing it was winter, the stench of the animal was horrible even in the cold. In the summer the fetid odour was nauseating. It took two baths and ten days of decent food to get the stink off the dogs she rescued.
Screwing her courage, she stretched her hand out toward the sound, hoping it wasn’t a coyote or a dog she didn’t know who was hidden there. Her reaching fingers encountered something solid. Investigating with her hand she identified a leg and a paw.
“Snow, c’mon girl. Come toward me,” she pleaded.
She took hold of the two paws she could reach and pulled gently. The dog grunted but made no move to bite her. The cold body slid toward her and she realized she had the hind feet. Sydney passed her hand over the area under the dog’s tail and inspected her mitt in the dim light. It was dark with fluid of some sort, but it was hard to tell what in the darkness. She pulled again and the dog scrabbled with her front paws, pushing backward toward Sydney.
“Sydney, where are you?” Sam whispered harshly from somewhere nearby.
“Here, under the tarp on this gross sofa,” she whispered back.
“Did you find her, then?”
“I found somebody, I’ve got her back end and it’s too dark to tell who it is,” Sydney replied.
“Can you manage?”
“I think so. I’ve almost got her free. She crawled down into the springs.”
She wriggled further out from under the crackling tarp and heaved the dog toward her. Whatever had been impeding the progress before let go abruptly and Sydney fell on her back, the dog clutched in her arms. The dog was white and still very pregnant. Clumsily she stroked Snow’s head. The dog opened her eyes wearily and then closed them again.
Sam leaned down and lifted the heavy weight from her chest. He cradled the animal, opened his jacket and wrapped it around the cold creature. Sydney scrambled to her feet and ran ahead of him to open the back door of the truck. Welcome heat fanned across her skin as she flung it wide. Sam was only seconds behind her and deposited his burden on the backseat. He paused to examine her and then shut the door.
“She hasn’t whelped yet, so we don’t have to go crawl back in there looking for puppies,” he informed her.
“Thank God for that, it was not high on my list of things I want to do right now.” She sighed in relief.
She climbed into the passenger side and was barely seated before Sam had the truck in gear and rolling down the lane with the lights still out. Once they reached the road, he flicked the headlamps on and pressed the accelerator.
Minutes later he turned into his drive and stopped by the back door. Snow lifted her head from the seat and curled her lip. Apparently, that took far too much effort and she dropped her head back onto her paws.
Sam opened the door and scooped the dog up in one movement. Sydney jumped down and ran ahead to open the door to the house. She hurried back to the truck, killed the ignition and slammed the door. Returning to the house, she closed the outer and inner doors and followed Sam into the kitchen. Harvey scrabbled to his feet, a growl building in his chest. The man placed the white dog on a heap of pillows near the stove.
“Hush now, you,” he admonished the big shepherd. “It’s Snow, you fool. These are probably your puppies in her belly.”
Sydney knelt beside them and ran her hand over the distended abdomen. Muscle rippled under her hand as the dog raised her head. Sam carefully tended to the frostbite on the pads of all four feet. Harvey stuck his head between the humans and inspected Snow. Apparently satisfied she was a pack mate he hobbled back to his bed where he lay down with a grunt.
“The puppies are ready to come,” Sydney spoke in a low voice.
“Cover her with this.” Sam handed her a blanket he had warmed in the oven. “She’s just about frozen stiff, poor beast.”
Sydney covered the dog as shivers shook the emaciated body. She tucked the thick blanket over the frozen ears leaving only Snow’s muzzle sticking out. The tiny sparrow in the cage was awake, although it still had its feathers fluffed out. Sydney rose and fetched a small bowl of warm water and placed it beside the tiny bird. It dipped its bill in a few times and then tucked its head under a wing.
Snow grunted and her body convulsed, the sharp smell of blood and amniotic fluid rose from under the blanket. Sam flipped the material off the dog’s hind end. The first baby slithered into his hands without incident. Sydney slid a thick pad of warmed towels under it. Four more followed in quick order, Snow lay still, her sides heaving. Sydney exchanged a worried look with Sam and moved the puppies to her head. Snow licked them and nudged them toward her teats.
Gusts of wind shook the small house. Sydney placed the sixth puppy with its mates close against Snow’s side, warm and snug under the blanket.
“This is one litter that won’t freeze to death,” she said grimly. “You can only save one at time, Sydney. Don’t eat your heart out over things you can’t change. Be happy we found this dog in time.” Sam held her gaze with his and squeezed her hand.
“I know you’re right, it’s just hard.” Sydney swallowed hard and managed a small smile.
The white dog continued to pant and pawed at her frozen ears. Sam and Sydney towel-dried the pups and placed them with their mother. The squirming mass of tiny bodies burrowed into the soft underbelly searching instinctively for the milk engorged teats.
“It’s a miracle she has any milk at all considering how skinny she is,” Sydney murmured.
“You know how it is; they give what they have to the babies and survive themselves on the little that’s left.” Sam smoothed Harvey’s head. The big shepherd sat on his haunches beside him overseeing the birth.
She rose to her feet and opened a can of dog food she found on the counter. Emptying it into a bowl, Sydney mixed in some warm water and bits of liver from a container nearby. Harvey lumbered upright, his tail waving like a plume, a doggy smile on his face.
“Not for you, bud.” She moved past him and set the dish by Snow’s head. The dog’s tail thumped the floor under the blanket as she bolted the food without pausing to chew. Harvey sat down with a sigh and whined deep in his throat.
“I know, man, I promised that liver to you didn’t I?” Sam laughed. “You know these women, they just take over…”
His voice trailed off when Sydney clouted him on the shoulder.
“Watch it, you,” she admonished him.
A fresh salvo of blowing snow rattled the window pane and the large spruce trees around the house soughed louder with the increasing intensity of the wind.
“Sounds like the wind is picking up, I should go while the roads are still passable. They’re gonna drift in pretty quick if this keeps up.” She swiped the hair out of her face and got to her feet. Her gaze fell on the tiny fluff of feathers huddled in the bottom of the cage by the stove. “What should we do with the bird, do you want me to take it with me?”
“No, leave it here. Once the weather warms up I’ll take it out to the place you found it and let it go.” Sam stood up too, he raised his arms over his head and stretched. “Man, I am getting too old for sitting on the hard floor in the middle of the night.”
“You’re younger than me so quit your belly aching,” she scolded him.
“Only by two days, woman. Don’t go all motherly on me now.”
She turned toward him, hesitating to speak the words that trembled on her tongue. Shaking her head she smiled instead. “Not much chance of that, Sam. You’re way past needing me to mother you.”
“Want some coffee before you head out?” He moved to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Glancing behind him he waved an empty mug in her direction.
“Can you make it to go? I want to get moving while I still can.” She cast a worried look out the frosty window.
“Why don’t you drink this and I’ll go check the road at the top of the drive and see how drifted it is.” Sam set the coffee on the table and pressed her into a chair. He drew on his heavy parka and stamped into his snow boots.
A cold draft swirled around her ankles when he left the kitchen. Sydney wrapped her still cold hands around the warm mug and relished the sweet creamy taste of the hot coffee as it warmed her from the inside. Harvey laid his head on her lap and she fed him a dog cookie from the jar on the table. Moments later the door rattled and Sam swept in along with a rush of frigid wind. He removed his gloves and clapped them against each other to knock off the crusted snow.
“The road is drifted two feet deep from the end of the drive all the way to the corner.” He removed his coat and hung it by the door.
Sydney got to her feet and looked out the window. The long drive appeared fairly clear, with only a skiff of snow covering it as it wound between the swaying spruce trees. “Doesn’t look that bad from here. I think I can make it back home.” She set her cup on the table and started to wind a scarf around her head. The clink of metal hitting the table brought her gaze to Sam’s face.
“I turned your car off. The trees are blocking the snow along the driveway, once you get out past the shelterbelt the drifts are up to your knees and getting worse.”
She picked up the keys and shifted them from one hand to the other with indecision. She really needed to leave, but the thought of fighting the drifts and getting stuck on the road in the freezing night was daunting. As she hesitated, the lights flickered twice and then went out. Somewhere in the dark Sam chuckled. Wavering lamp light followed the scrape of a match and he set the oil lamp on the table.
“You gotta stay and keep me company, now. I’m gonna bring more wood in from the shed. Can you fill Gramma’s old kettle and put it on the stove? We can have instant coffee at least, or there’s some hot chocolate powder in the cupboard.” The door slammed on the last of his words.
Sydney did as he asked and then pulled the sofa closer to the stove. She pulled some wool blankets and a couple of quilts from the blanket box next to the wall and spread them over the sofa to warm. Sinking down beside Snow and the puppies she caressed the dog’s head and examined her ears. The dog whined softly as she touched the tender flesh. It looked like some of the edges might slough off, but most of the ears would be saved. Lifting the blanket, Sydney checked on the sleeping babies. All seemed fine, the little bellies rounded and full. She wrinkled her nose at the ripe odour emanating from under the cover.
“You are getting a bath first thing tomorrow, missy. You reek,” she told the white dog.
Sam came in and deposited a load of wood in the box by the fire. “That should do us for the night,” he said before stripping off his outer clothes. Opening the stove he added another log and then moved to the fireplace on the other side of the room. Soon, he had a fire blazing in the hearth and the temperature in the room rose noticeably. He settled on the sofa and pulled a wool blanket around himself. He reached down and took Sydney’s hand pulling her up on the cushion beside him.
“Just like when we camped out when we were kids,” he said softly.
“It’s been a long time since we were kids, Sam,” she reminded him.
Smiling, he enfolded her in his blanket, pulling her body against his solid warmth. With his other hand he spread more blankets over them.
Harvey heaved himself up next to them, his head resting on her thigh. With a huge sigh he closed his eyes and burrowed into the covers. Sydney’s eyes wouldn’t stay open, no matter how hard she tried. The heat was welcome after being so cold earlier. Even if the roads were open, she was too tired to drive home. Her head tipped sideways and she stopped trying to hold it upright. Her cheek fit snuggly into Sam’s shoulder. His hand stroked her hair before he rested his chin on the top of her head.
“This is nicer than being snowed in alone; that’s for sure,” Sam murmured.
“Better than being stuck in a snow drift somewhere,” she agreed.
“We gotta give that dog a bath when the power comes back on.” Sam chuckled, his suppressed laughter rumbling under her ear.
“Let’s worry about that in the morning,” she said snuggling further into the blankets and closing her eyes. His lips caressing the top of her head was the last thing she knew before sleep took her.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Vacation Time! by Nancy M Bell

Tomorrow I leave for a 15 day cruise to Hawaii. I've never been to Hawaii before, although we have taken numerous cruise vacations. It got me to thinking, how important are vacations and taking breaks to the writing process. While deadlines loom over my head, should I take the laptop with me and devote some time each day to my WIP? I'm of two minds. One part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and just let the trade winds wash my blues away. The more practical side of me says, there are 10 days at sea, it should be easy to complete my novella and get some work done on my romance. What to do, what to do.

So I will be sitting on my balcony watching for dolphins and whales and writing about the Alberta prairie. Hmmmm. Sounds good in theory. But will I follow through? That remains to be seen. I do think that a break is good for the soul and for the creative process. However, I need to balance that against the need to stay in touch with my characters and not letting my muse decide to take a VERY long vacation which would leave me staring at a blinking cursor with no words to write. That being said, the beautiful sunsets and lush scenery of Hawaii may inspire brand new stories.


On to more practical things. Sometimes getting ready to go on vacation is hardly worth the effort! I have been cleaning the house madly because the dust bunnies and dog hair bunnies will breed like crazy while I'm gone. Then, I've had to find temporary fosters for my six foster kittens and my medical foster dog. All the arrangements and dropping off and setting up things so the hand off goes smoothly. Sometimes by the time I get ready to leave, I'm exhausted and stressed out. Then there's the airport stress, and security check. I always feel guilty even though I'm anal about not having anything on me that would send up a red flag. I must look dangerous because I inevitably get pulled out of line for the 'full meal deal' security check. I walk with a cane for heaven's sake! Like I could outrun anyone and the cane goes through the X-ray. Go figure. They say it's 'random' but a couple of years ago, I flew four times in short order and three of those times I was pulled out for the 'full meal deal'. Not so random, I'm thinking.

The world we live in is so changed. Used to be you could just walk on and off the ships, now you need your passenger ID card and you have to go through X-ray security every time you get back on the ship. The times they are a'changing. I'm looking forward to the food the most. Princess lines has the best food in my opinion. Last year we sailed with Holland America, a last minute thing, we went to Alaska. The food in the dining room was only passable. I asked for the cheese tray one night and they brought a few pieces of cheese, no fruit and no crackers. Say what? I asked for some crackers and the waiter looked at me like I had two heads and then brought me some soup crackers in cellophane. Needless to say, we won't be sailing Holland America any time soon.

I am looking forward to seeing Hawaii and buying gifts for my grandkids. Perhaps some gifts for me too??? LOL

My next post on October 18th will be full of news and anticipation of Surrey International Writers Conference. It takes place the following weekend and I'm looking forward to seeing old friends and making new ones. I've been accepted as a presenter in the Unconference on Friday afternoon. During my fifteen minutes of fame I will talk about using horses in your stories. The ABC's of Horses. Nothing worse than reading about a horse 'lapping up water', horses don't 'lap' they suck up water using their teeth to strain out floating things.

Keep your eyes open for the next book in the Longview Romance series. It's called Come Hell or High Water and continues the story of Michelle and Cale that began in Storm's Rescue. Of course, Storm the three legged dog is along for the ride. See you next month.

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