An Odd Custom in the 19th Century and Earlier

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One of the strangest customs that was pretty common in the 19th century and earlier was a married woman referring to her husband as Mister and whatever their last name was. I just think it’s so odd and kind of funny in a way. It makes it sound like they’re not even married and maybe complete strangers.

My grandmother used to call her husband Mr. Smith like they weren’t even acquainted.

But my grandpa always called my grandmother by her first name which was Becky and didn’t say Mrs. Smith. It seems it was only the women who did this.

Another thing had to do with sending any mail to my grandmother. It had to be addressed as Mrs. Robert Smith, not by her name. It almost seemed like an ownership thing and she wasn’t her own person, not like today.

I still have an elderly cousin who always wants Mrs. Ed Langley on every piece of mail I send her even though he’s been dead for over ten years. Somehow, she’s still unable to claim her own identity. I think that’s really sad.

Yet, when I try to write this into one of my stories, it makes it seem they’re strangers, so I give up and change it so the reader will know who I’m talking about.

These days, we have a fast-paced, very casual lifestyle and wives always use their husband’s first names when they speak to them and it seems more natural.

One of my pet peeves is that I do not like is a man referring to his wife as his “old lady or old broad.” And the wife saying, “My old man.” Just sounds awful disrespectful, but maybe that’s just me. Or when they call each other Ma and Pa.

My parents always used their first names when speaking to each other.

Now for book news. The McIntyre complete series is out now, and I think doing pretty well as far as I can tell. It has its own series page on Amazon.

CLICK here for the link.

The McIntyre siblings are on a quest to reunite their fractured family no matter the cost. As they search, each also finds a love that cannot be denied.

 

How about you? Have you ever heard women of the older generations calling their husbands Mr. so and so? I’ll give a copy of Book 1 in this series – Cade’s Quest – to one commenter. (Either ebook or print)

CHERYL’S WINNERS!

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I want to thank everyone who stopped by the blog today and commented! I thoroughly enjoyed your comments and learning about your pet peeves when it comes to too much detail (or other related things we talked about!)

My winners of the digital copy of LOVE UNDER FIRE are….

LINDA R

KATE SPARKS

Congratulations, ladies! If you will email me at your earliest convenience here: fabkat_edit@ yahoo . com (NO SPACES) I will see that your prize is sent as soon as possible! Be sure to put WINNER in the subject line, and also please let me know the email you wish to use to receive your book.

Thanks again to each and every one of you for stopping by and reading and commenting. Our readers are the heart of our blog–we couldn’t do it without you!

THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAILS–PART ONE by Cheryl Pierson (AND A GIVEAWAY!)

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There’s an old saying that “the devil’s in the details” that’s true in many circumstances in life, but I think it’s especially true in all forms of art.

Of course, it’s obvious to us in visual art—paintings, drawings, photography—and tactile art such as a beautiful quilt or piece of pottery, or a woven basket.Hexagon Quilt–selling for over $6000! But look at the work and the detail that went into this “work of art”!

But what about books? Are you a reader who loves lots of descriptive details? Or do those bog you down and leave you frustrated and impatient?

I have to admit, as I’ve gotten older, there are many kinds of stories that I feel could do with less detail in some areas. A lot of my “changes” come from looking at the way details and descriptions are presented more closely when I read. I’ve evolved into this kind of reader.

As a younger reader, I needed those details to help me create images in my mind. The descriptions were beautiful to me because I knew less of the world, and everything I read was a learning experience! Have you ever thought about it like that?

When I was a YA reader, whether reading sci-fi books (during the flying saucer craze) or historical fiction, I needed those descriptions and details to feed my hunger for learning about—well, everything!I loved this series by John Christopher–read it when I was about 12 or 13, and it stayed with me all through the years so that when my own kids were young, I went searching and found it for them! The descriptions of the aliens that were determined to take over earth, the bravery of the young people that fought against them, and wondering what in the world was going to happen kept me reading far into the night! (and them, too!)

“Back in the day” I think authors engaged readers with a different type of writing style, too. Ours had not yet become a world of technology such as it is now. Life “took longer”—and happened at a much more unhurried pace. It was important for writers to create pictures in the readers’ minds—because there was no way to already have a pre-conceived idea of the things the author was trying to describe.

Here’s what I mean: In today’s world, we are inundated with images of all kinds, from instant pictures on our phones that we take ourselves, to movies, to ads on television, to video on Youtube. And now we have a prevalent presence of AI in everything we come into contact with. There is just so much more—and we are experiencing only the tip of the iceberg.

One of my very favorite paintings by the most fabulous Jack Sorenson. He does it the old fashioned way–brush stroke by wonderful brushstroke!  This one is called “Horse With Christmas Spirit”–love the “details” in this one!

Can you see how out lightning speed technology can potentially de-value art? When a beautiful picture can be photoshopped together in minutes, or even created by AI and seen by millions, or mass produced in ways that hadn’t been thought of fifty years ago, the artist who painstakingly delivers every brush stroke “the old-fashioned way” can be under-appreciated in a hurry! Jack Sorenson is one of the most gifted artists BECAUSE of the details he includes in every painting.

Some writers suffer this same twist of fate with the influx of technological inventions in a different way. Because our lives are so rushed, and our society has been geared toward “quick reads” we’ve lost the pleasure of savoring those descriptions of the setting, the characters, even the emotions of the “players” in the books we read. It seems that finishing a book is more important than, as we once did, lingering over certain passages and re-reading them for the sheer joy of the way the words came together, our imaginations taking flight with  the mental pictures they created for our hungry minds—and souls.

My confession—and you may all think this is weird—I do not ever skim. Even when I don’t feel the need for the minutiae that may be included, I read every word. What if I miss something? Deep down, I believe the author must have thought it important or he/she wouldn’t have included it!

What’s your pet peeve? Too much description? Not enough? More description needed of the characters? Or do you want some things left to your own imagination?

One does a whole painting for one peach and people think just the opposite – that particular peach is but a detail.

–Pablo Picasso

I learned no detail was too small. It was all about the details.

–Brad Grey

Sometimes when you start losing detail, whether it’s in music or in life, something as small as failing to be polite, you start to lose substance.

–Benny Goodman

Do you remember a book you’ve read that you thought was too detailed? IS there such a thing? I think many of the authors from the earlier days wrote in that style—it was just how it was done—and there was no mass media to show instant pictures, so there was even so much more to learn through reading.

As one who wrote very descriptive passages, James Fenimore Cooper comes to mind, but Diana Gabaldon’s books are full of wonderful descriptions of the landscape, the characters, and so on, and that skill she displays for description makes her stories and characters come to life!

For modern-day books that show a complete mastery of adding wonderful detail and pulling you into the story, there is no better author than Kathleen Eagle. I’ve never read a story by her that I didn’t love and one of the main reasons is the adept talent she has for adding the smallest details as the story moves along and drawing the reader right into each and every scene, as if you are truly there with her characters, experiencing their pain, loss, worry, and love.

I love to do giveaways, so here’s my question for today’s blog for you to answer in order to enter the giveaway. I’m giving a digital copy of LOVE UNDER FIRE from our Petticoats & Pistols Pink Pistol series  to two commenters today! (USA ONLY) Do you have a favorite author who gives just the right amount of description? Is there an author you feel could do with a little less of it?

More about this next time on CHARACTER descriptions–I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on this subject!

COME VISIT MY AMAZON PAGE–CLICK THE LINK BELOW!

 https://tinyurl.com/yc6t7vj4

Penny Zeller Has a Winner!

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Deepest apologies to Miss Penny for our site being down on her blog day but we’re always tickled to death when she comes. And such an interesting post.

Now, for the drawing…………..

One commenter will get a signed copy of A Hearts Hope! Yippee!

And the winner is………….

DIANA HARDT

We’re dancing a jig for you, Diana. Now watch for Miss Penny’s email! Check SPAM if you don’t see it.

Let’s Play Bingo!

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We invite you to

Play Bingo from Tuesday through Friday to celebrate

~  For Liberty and Love  ~

Win a $10 Amazon gift card and more!

Winner announced the following Monday.

 

All games will be played in our Reader Group on Facebook. 

Haven’t joined yet?  Just click HERE

 

 

 

Do you have your FREE copy of our stunning new magazine?  

* Features the first four books in the Petticoats & Patriots series

and the fillies who wrote them *

* Games *

* Recipes *

* Historical Anecdotes from our time periods *

And more!

Just download HERE

 

 

See you Tuesday!

 

Welcome Guest Author Penny Zeller

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Howdy, y’all! Penny here. I am so honored to be a guest again on Petticoats & Pistols. This time, I’m here chatting about A Heart’s Hope, my latest Christian historical romance. A Heart’s Hope takes place in 1881, and as I was writing the book, I discovered many interesting things about toys and candy from yesteryear.

When high-society socialite McKenzie Chesterton answers a rugged rancher’s mail-order bride advertisement, she later discovers the man she is about to marry has a young son named Davey. As such, she purchases a few fun items from the toy shops and candy stores in Boston.

One gift McKenzie gives Davey is a harmonica. Some sources say the ancestor of the harmonica originated in the 1780s. Others believe the forerunner came from ancient China’s sheng instrument. Some sources cite the origin of the harmonica as a way to help tune pianos. Regardless, the harmonica as we now know it grew in popularity in the 1800s, and was even called a “mouth organ”.

Marbles came into great popularity when mass production started in the 1840s. Glass marbles were the most common.

The jump rope has been a common toy for at least a few centuries, but did you know it was called “skipping rope” in the 1800s? Different sources have cited a variety of origins for the jump rope, and there may be evidence that suggests it was used in Ancient Greece. It is believed the Dutch brought skipping ropes to America.

Just as toys have changed through the eras, so has candy. McKenzie gifts Davey a chocolate bar. Did you know the first chocolate bar was produced in 1847 by Joseph Fry? Hershey didn’t begin chocolate production until around 1900.

Chocolate bars weren’t the only thing to come along in the 1800s. One of the more interesting discoveries was that chewing gum was first produced from tree sap in the 1840s. One of the first, if not the first, packaged box of chocolate was released in 1854. The 1890s are when the first batch of peanut brittle is rumored to have accidentally been created due to a wrong ingredient.

Topics like toys and candy from days past always provide entertainment while we authors conduct research. I once heard that authors research for hours just to write one sentence. As one who has written numerous historicals, that is certainly true.

I’m super excited about the release of A Heart’s Hope on June 16.

She’s from high society. He’s a humble rancher. Can an unorthodox marriage lead to love?

What happens when truths are disclosed, and McKenzie’s real reason for answering Noah’s advertisement comes to light? Will the fragile love that has begun to grow between McKenzie and Noah survive the truth? Can God take an unconventional situation and bring two lonely hearts together?

A Heart’s Hope is a heartwarming, faith-filled, marriage-of-convenience love story that shows that God truly is the Changer of hearts.

Go here to snag your copy of A Heart’s Hope.

I’m giving one lucky winner their choice of a paperback or ebook of A Heart’s Hope. (Limited to U.S. residents only).

To enter the giveaway, please leave a comment in answer to this question:

What was your favorite childhood candy or toy?

Thank you for joining me today.

As a special gift, be sure to snag An Unexpected Arrival, a Wyoming Sunrise novelette, for free by going here.

Penny Zeller is known for her heartfelt stories of faith-filled happily ever afters. Her books feature tender romance, steady doses of humor, and memorable characters that stay with you long after the last page. She is a multi-published author of over three dozen books and is also a fitness instructor, loves the outdoors, and is a flower gardening addict. Penny resides with her husband and two daughters in small-town America and loves to connect with her readers at her website at http://www.pennyzeller.com

 

From Midwest Lakes to Ocean Views by Pam Crooks

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At this stage in my life, spending time with my children and grandchildren takes far more precedence than most anything else I can think of. Especially in this day and age when a quick text message suffices over a phone call and even a physical visit. Everyone is busy, and if not for pictures snapped on smart phones and sent sailing onto MY smart phone via cell towers (which is a really simplistic way to explain it but you get the idea), I might not see much of my children and grandchildren at all.

I actually blame those cell towers for that. My life was much simpler without those darned cell phones everyone is so obsessed with–and I suspect yours was, too.

Thus, in my quest to spend more time with my family, we have turned toward taking nice family vacations together. The whole bunch. All twenty of us. Every year. It’s my husband’s and my treat, and it’s great incentive to get 100% attendance. These family vacations have been some of my most special memories ever.

Okoboji

One of the earliest vacations we took with the kids was Okoboji. Located in northwest Iowa’s Great Lakes region and only three hours away from us, Okoboji has long been a family friendly favorite around here. Lake Okoboji is a big, beautiful lake, and nearby Fillenwarth Beach offers their “Million Dollar Home Cruise” and “Booze Cruise” with special drinks for kids and adults alike, including platters of crackers and cheese to snack on. Of course, there’s biking, hiking, and even an amusement park in nearby Arnold’s Park. Something for everyone.

Honey Creek Resort

Honey Creek Resort is a southern Iowa lake retreat on Rathbun Lake, offering lodge rooms, cottages, outdoor recreation, golf, trails, and family-friendly amenities in a state-park setting, again only a few hours away. We rented cottages and had our own cul-de-sac for bike riding, cooking out, and game-playing. I do know they have been having some financial troubles, and if so, I’m hopeful they get those worked out soon, if they haven’t already. We loved going there over several summers.

Ponca State Park

For our more rustic vacation, we drove up north to Ponca State Park and rented cottages all tucked into the bluffs above the Missouri River. We enjoyed great river views, hiking, biking, kids activities, and so on. Again, only a few hours away from us and kid-friendly.

Bahamas Cruise

Last year, my husband and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with our biggest vacation yet – a cruise to the Bahamas. Oh, my goodness. It didn’t get any better than that, especially since no one in the family had been on a cruise before. Seeing their wide-eyed amazement at how BIG the ship was, all the food they could eat, the shows, the pools…

It was so wonderful, we went again. In fact, we only got home a couple of days ago, and since I’m still on a cruise euphoria, I was inspired to write this blog and share our vacations with all of you!

Now that this year’s vacation is over, I’d love to hear about your vacation favorites. (I need ideas for next year, and the year after that . . .)

Penny Zeller Will Visit Friday!

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Christian Romance Writer Penny Zeller will arrive on Friday, June 12, 2026 to chat about toys in the 19th century.

This’ll be very interesting and you don’t want to miss it.

What were your favorite toys growing up? Or a favorite candy? Be thinking about it. I loved playing jacks and paper dolls.

Miss Penny is toting a copy of her new book to give away to one commenter! Yee-Haw! So you want to leave a comment on her post.

Then sit back and see if you’re the lucky winner. 🙂

Part of Your World

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Only six days until Part of Your World releases! I’m so excited to share my next western fairy tale with you.

I thought I’d whet your appetite by sharing a short excerpt. Enjoy!

Zane piloted his newly refurbished catboat through slightly choppy waters, grinning as the mainsheet swelled with the wind and sped him along the Galveston coast. Manning the tiller from a bench in the stern of the boat, he laughed aloud at the thrill of racing across the Gulf at speeds rivaling a galloping horse. Better than a horse, for a boat didn’t tire. As long as the wind blew, the boat ran. And how he loved it!

Freedom. Complete and utter freedom. No matchmaking mama trying to tie him down, no father glaring in thinly veiled disappointment, no meticulous mentor evaluating his every measurement. Just a man and the sea.

And a song?

A woman’s voice carried on the wind. A sweet, pleading call. Heartfelt and beautiful. Zane adjusted the tiller to steer the bow more into the wind, feathering the sail to forfeit power and slow the boat. He scanned the shoreline, seeking the source of the song, like a sailor falling prey to a mythical siren. Something about that voice stirred his soul and set his heart to pounding an irregular rhythm.

“Wondrous Sov’reign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me!”

A hymn? Even more intrigued, Zane urged his boat nearer the shore. There. She stood on a rocky outcropping. A woman dressed in dark blue, arms open and raised, hair whipping about in the wind. Red hair? It was hard to tell from this distance, but it seemed to absorb the sunlight and catch fire.

His hand grew lax on the tiller, his attention riveted not only by the music but by the passionate woman in the throes of worship. . .

. . . She repeated the final phrase, taking liberties with the notes like an opera diva, elongating some, trilling others, rising in a crescendo as she turned the music skyward, climbing up instead of down the scale until she hit a note of such purity, he rose from his seat, wanting to climb with her. The climactic tone rang through the air, raising gooseflesh on his arms. Slowly her arms lowered, and a change came over her. A stillness. Like a startled rabbit. She’d seen him. He felt the connection between them, even though he couldn’t make out her features from this distance.

He stood there, watching her as she watched him, neither of them moving, the moment fraught with meaning too heavy to set aside. Then the wind gusted from a different direction, rocking the boat and whipping the long, horizontal pole supporting the bottom of the sail violently over the cockpit. Zane tried to duck, but it was too late. The wooden boom crashed into the side of his skull and launched him overboard.

Which fairy tale tropes are your favorite in romance novels?

What if one treasured locket could tell the story of a nation?

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Yay!  Petticoats and Pistols is celebrating the 250th year Anniversary of our Nation with an entire series of books.  Wow!

Shanna will lead off the series on July 16th, 2026 when she will be releasing her book, FOR LIBERTY AND LOVE.  I’ll be following her lead with my story, FREEING MISS ABAGAIL on June 23rd, 2026 and Kit will be following me on June 30th, 2026 with her book, HER HEART’S ALLEGIANCE.  I’m going to post the schedule of the books below:

Books in the Petticoats & Patriots Series

For Liberty and Love by Shanna Hatfield

Book 1June 16

Freeing Miss Abagail by Karen Kay

Book 2June 23

Her Heart’s Allegiance by Kit Morgan

Book 3 June 30

Whispers of Treason by Sarah Lamb

Book 4 July 7

Her Rebel Heart by Jo-Ann Roberts

Book 5July 14

The Heart of Honor by Winnie Griggs

Book 6 July 21

The Sky Between Us by Pam Crooks

Book 7July 28

Declaration of Love by Shanna Hatfield

Book 8 August 4

We are so excited to bring these stories to you.  And, you can have a sneak peek at the stories with the first issue of Petticoats & Patriots Magazine!  It’s available now!  So Get your digital copy Free today.

What if one treasured locket could tell the story of a nation?

Step into the pages of Petticoats & Patriots Magazine and discover the people, places, and moments that shaped America. Packed with historical features, patriotic inspiration, recipes, and stories of love, liberty, and legacy, this special edition celebrates the enduring spirit of freedom. Join us as we honor the past and celebrate America’s 250th anniversary. Available now for free for digital downloads!

So pick up your free copy today!
I will leave you today with an excerpt from my book, FREEING MISS ABAGAIL

 

 

Dark-haired, nineteen-year-old Abagail Densbury paused mid-stride and listened. She frowned. Was it barking she was hearing, there, off in the distance? No, it couldn’t be; not here in the dim forest, and yet… It did sound like the howling of many hounds.

As though she were ill, Abagail’s stomach turned over. Had Miss Stockenridge awakened? And, if she had, was she really so cruel as to send the hunting dogs after her?

Fear washed through Abagail’s body, the emotion sickening her already discouraged spirit. But, was she wrong? Had the mongrels merely been let loose to help the men hunt for the inn’s evening meal?

But, no. From the sound of their howls, they were coming closer and closer to her.

Panic struck Abagail. It had to be true. The hounds were on her trail.

She shut her eyes momentarily. It was so unfair. Miss Stockenridge was an employee of Mr. Wilson, a balding man who was the proprietor of the Saratoga Tavern & Inn, an inn nestled deeply into the woods several miles away from the town of Saratoga. Miss Stockenridge had no authority to override his wishes, did she?

Abagail frowned, recalling—if only briefly—how Mr. Wilson had rescued her own person earlier this very morning. Mr. Wilson must have heard the lashing being given to Abagail, because he had forced his way into the back room of the inn and had commanded Miss Stockenridge to cease the whipping at once. And, Miss Stockenridge should have stopped.

But, she hadn’t. Instead, she had increased the fury of her attack, screaming, “The lass be a thief and in league with misfits! And, since I be the one who bought her servitude contract, I can do as I like with the likes of her.”

“In league with… Now, what was it the lass stole?” asked Mr. Wilson, reaching up to stay the lash.

“Why, it be a fine necklace, taken from one of the ladies stayin’ here at the inn,” replied Miss Stockenridge. “This lass be nothin’ but a thief! And, I’ll—”

“Where be the necklace now, so I can return it to its rightful owner?”

“I’ll be returnin’ it!” yelled Miss Stockenridge. “Now get thee out of here while I give this gal the whippin’ she deserves!”

Abagail ridged her shoulders, expecting another blow. However, it never came.

With a crash and a scream, Miss Stockenridge ceased the beating, and Abagail heard the sound of a body falling onto the floor. Looking over her shoulder, Abagail beheld with some shock the broken vase in Mr. Wilson’s hand and Miss Stockenridge’s body, now lying on the floor.

“I had ta do it now, lass. She ain’t hurt none, and she’ll awaken soon enough. But, gal, ye need to get!”

Old and kindly Mr. Wilson had then cut the ties from around Abagail’s hands, allowing her to quickly pull up her linen blouse to hide the marks on her back, even though some of those wounds were now bleeding. Inwardly, she cringed at the pain as her blouse touched her injuries.

“Here, gal, take this coin I be given ye”—he placed it into the pocket of her apron—“and get thee to Fort Stanwix, quick as ye can! Ye be free to go there and wait for me until I can join ye! Now, get!”

Mr. Wilson had said she was free to go. Was it, then, his intention to free her of the status of being an indentured servant? Or had he simply meant she was free to leave Saratoga Inn?

Obviously, his design must be the latter since he had told her to stay at Fort Stanwix until he could join her. Indeed, why else would he be planning to meet up with her there? She, being an indentured servant, was hardly important.

The barking of the inn’s hounds and the high-pitched clinking sounds of the coins in her apron as she was running had the effect of bringing Abagail back to the present moment, ending her musings. Indeed, it sounded as if the dogs were even closer to her now.

Miss Stockenridge had to have been the one to order the dogs after her. It wouldn’t matter to Miss Stockenridge that she had no authority to override Mr. Wilson’s wishes regarding Abagail, bidding her to get. Could Miss Stockenridge really be so heartless and cruel?

Abagail answered her own question. Had Mr. Wilson not stepped in to help her, Miss Stockenridge might have killed her. Indeed, the woman would have either murdered her on the spot or left her in a condition worse than death.

Well, this was a dangerous mess she was in. Worse than anything she’d ever experienced. And, goodness knew her young life had been full of misadventures, having grown up on the streets of London.

What would those hounds do to her once they found and caught her? Would they tear her apart, as though she were a fox and this a fox hunt?

Fear turned quickly to terror, causing Abagail to catch her breath and to stumble and fall onto the colorful beauty of the red, orange and golden leaves littering the ground. Immediately, she breathed in the crisp scent of the fallen leaves over the ground. But, she didn’t have a moment to spare to give the elegance of the sharp autumn day more than a quick notice.

Leaping to her feet, Abagail ran on, trying to increase her speed, and she raised up her brown cloth-worn dress so she could take bigger strides. She barely heard the clinking of the coins in the pocket of her dirty white apron—the same coins Mr. Wilson had given her.

At least she’d had the good sense to wear her brown leather boots this day instead of her usual slippers, which had holes in the soles. Of course, even though the leather boots helped her to run, she knew it was impossible to remain free and alive. She couldn’t outrun the inn’s hounds.

No, she would be caught, and, if they didn’t kill her on the spot, the hired men would drag her back to the Saratoga Inn. And, there she would be given no quarter. Miss Stockenridge would ensure it, despite Mr. Wilson’s kindness.

The Saratoga Inn was really a tavern, offering nightly accommodations to travelers and to its guests who might have imbibed of too much whiskey. The inn was so well situated into the deep woods, it almost disappeared into the scenery. And, because it sat so far away from town, it was a law unto itself. So, if forced to go back there, Miss Stockenridge would surely kill or maim her. Mr. Wilson wouldn’t always be around to stop the woman.

The pain of her linen blouse, as it contacted and pulled at the skin of Abagail’s back, caught her attention. It felt as though her every step caused the wounds already there to multiply.

“My dear Lord,” she prayed. “Help me!”

As soon as the prayer had been uttered, Abagail seemed to come alive, and, in doing so, she smelled something in the air…something wet and fresh. Was it water—a stream or a river? And, if it were a stream, could this give her a chance to erase her scent from the path so the hounds would not be able to follow?

Had her prayer been answered so quickly?

She sniffed again. Yes, it was the clean scent of a stream. Turning, she ran into the wind, which had kindly alerted her to a possible escape route. Hurrying through the trees and the undergrowth, she came to an embankment and fled down it, causing small rocks to fly up into the air and the earth to crumble at her feet.

Quickly, she splashed into the cool water.

It was a shallow stream. Would it really hide her scent from the hounds? Still, whether it would or not, Abagail would take this chance the Lord had given her.

As she ran forward, she slipped on the slimy stones beneath her feet and fell into the water. But, the water, though running fast, was not deep and she righted herself at once and ran onward, but a little more cautiously. Lifting up her skirts which were weighing her down, she splashed through the water as furiously and as fast as she could, hoping the swift-running water would hide her path.

Oh, what a terrible mess she was in. And, it was all because of a mistake. She’d not taken the necklace she’d been accused of stealing. Somehow it had appeared in the pocket of her apron. But, how it had gotten there, Abagail didn’t know.

And, no matter how much Abagail had pleaded her innocence, Miss Stockenridge wouldn’t believe her…hadn’t believed her, certain the woman was that Abagail had stolen the necklace from one of the ladies currently staying at the inn.

But what was it Miss Stockenridge had said to Mr. Wilson? That Abagail had been in league with misfits?

None of the accusations against her were true, and yet Miss Stockenridge had tried to browbeat a confession out of her. And, when Abagail hadn’t been able to give one, Miss Stockenridge had pulled out the whip, and…

The yipping of the dogs brought Abagail firmly back to the present moment, and she dashed forward as quickly as she could, surging through the current, slipping now and again, but not falling. She fled onward through the water, listening for the hounds. And, then she heard an even more deadly sound and she knew she was in even more trouble.

Ahead of her was a waterfall. Dear God, how high up was it from the ground below?

Closing her eyes for a moment, she wanted to cry. But, she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she stepped slowly toward the sickening sound of the waterfall.

What was she to do? She couldn’t continue on forward. But, if she were to crawl up onto the shoreline to avert the danger of the falls, the hounds would certainly pick up her scent again.

Oh, what was she to do?

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Hope you’ll leave a message today!  We are all very excited to bring this to you!  So come on in.  Leave a message.

 

Petticoats & Pistols