- This topic has 127 replies, 4 voices, and was last updated 11 months, 4 weeks ago by
.
-
Posts
-
@freedomwriter76 @acancello @savannah_grace2009 @anyone else interested
I thought you guys might enjoy reading some of what I’ve written and giving some feedback! I have many WIPs but this is my historical fiction featuring MC Libbie Hopkins. I don’t have it divided into chapters yet (I get too locked into structure when I set up the chapters from the start) but I will post the first segment here for you to read and then more another time. It ends a bit abruptly, but I’m gonna wait to post more so this one doesn’t get too long.
That being said, here goes…
May 1883
A dull ache filled my heart as I took a last look around the empty shell of a house I had called home for thirteen years. Today was the big day- we were leaving our town in Pennsylvania and traveling westward to start a new life.
It was early, barely before the crack of dawn. We’d already said goodbye to our family and friends the night before, and all our things were packed up in the wagon. We had to leave most of our furniture, but the cots were piled in, as well as all of Mama’s sewing, canning, and cooking goods, and a few crates of clothes and personal items. A barrel of water and barrels of food were attached to the back of the wagon. We had two strong oxen to pull the wagon, and James had tied his horse to the back, along with the milk cow. Mama had sold her chickens and the pig, saying we would need the money and we could always buy more chickens later.
But now we were setting off- me, my parents, Clara, and our three brothers, James, Abraham, and George. Even though most people traveled by railroad nowadays, Mama and Pa chose the covered wagon. It would take us much longer, but if we took the train, we’d have to leave most of our things behind and buy them all out there, which was more expensive in the long run than packing up everything into a wagon and bringing it with us.
My oldest and only sister, Clara, was twenty, and she had considered remaining in Pennsylvania. The prospects for finding a good man were fewer the farther west you went, she had stated. At the time, she’d been in a serious courtship, but after her beau suddenly broke it off and started seeing another woman, she changed her mind and decided she’d rather stay with the rest of the family.
James, at seventeen, had the choice of remaining behind and starting an apprenticeship, but his wanderlust and loyalty to the family compelled him to come along. Abraham, fifteen, and George, twelve, were closest in age to me and annoyed me the most. Part of that was probably because we spent so much time together, and I loved them in spite of it.
I felt some sense of excitement for the journey ahead, but I was upset about leaving my close friends behind. Pa had heard of another family from a nearby town who were going to travel with us- the Cullivers. I hadn’t met any of them yet, but I hoped they were agreeable people. If we were to spend the next four months together, they’d better be easy to get along with, or we were in for a miserable journey.
Pa climbed up on the wagon’s only seat, helping Mama up beside him. James helped Clara up into the back to find a place to sit among all the household items. The rest of us would walk until we needed a break, and then switch out. With one last look at our home, Pa flicked the reins and we were off.
About an hour later we reached the neighboring town where the Cullivers were joining up with us. Pa found their covered wagon just at the opposite edge of town, awaiting our arrival.
“Hallo,” he called out. He pulled the oxen to a stop and climbed down to greet Mr. Culliver, who was coming our way. The two shook hands and gave each other a slap on the back. Mr. Culliver was a muscular man, who I figured must’ve been brought up on hard work. His face was tanned but retained youthfulness, and he seemed friendly.
“This is the family?” he asked Pa.
“Indeed,” Pa affirmed. “There’s my wife, Ellen, and my oldest boy James over there, followed by Abe, Libbie, and George. The oldest, Clara, is in the back.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Mr. Culliver greeted us. We all politely returned it. Mr. Culliver turned to gesture to the woman sitting atop his wagon. “That’s the missus, Amelia, and the children, Albert, Etta, Oscar, and Mattie.” Amelia seemed matronly but sweet, with broad shoulders that, like her husband, bore the evidence of hard labor. Though she was broad, she was not overweight.
The older two children, I guessed to be about fifteen and twelve, had darker hair and smooth complexions, but the younger two, about ten and eight, had gotten reddish hair and a smattering of freckles.
When I met Etta’s gaze, she glanced down bashfully, seemingly shy. However, when my eyes locked with Albert’s, he broke into a mischievous grin and winked. I blushed and broke the eye contact. Though his muscular frame proved the hard work he did, Albert seemed to me the type of boy who enjoyed fooling around whenever his father wasn’t looking. By the impish look on Oscar’s face, I suspected his brother wasn’t the only one who got into mischief. I had a feeling he was Albert’s partner-in-crime.
“Let’s not waste further time,” Pa said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Ready and waiting,” Mr. Culliver replied. So we set off again, the Culliver wagon leading the way. Albert and Oscar dropped back and fell into step beside Abe, George, and me. Etta kept her head down and kept pace with the wagon ahead.
“Where are you all settling?” Albert inquired.
“Someplace in Nebraska,” Abe replied. “At least that’s what Pa says. I reckon we’ll probably settle near each other.”
“I reckon,” Albert agreed. “Say, we should drive the wagons for a spell. Maybe even race the oxen.”
“That’s not a good idea,” I piped up. “You’ll run the oxen to death and then we’ll be stuck miles from home and miles from where we want to be.”
Albert snickered. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he teased. Reaching up, he jerked my braid, and I glared at him, my face growing hot. I didn’t appreciate being treated like a ten-year-old. Albert may have had a charming smile, but I wasn’t impressed with his lack of maturity.
The miles stretched on. I hadn’t realized how quickly I would grow tired. I traded places with Clara a few times, but by the end of the day, I still had a few blisters. We stopped for the evening and set up camp around four. Mattie and Oscar were sent to look for firewood, and I helped Clara lay out quilts under the wagon for bedding. Mama and Amelia worked together to make dinner, and then we all sat around the fire relaxing for a little and getting to know one another.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
It’s really good! I like it! One question:How old is Libbie? Or does it say, sorry if I missed it, I kind of skimmed it.
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333@savannah_grace2009 No, that’s a good question! I didn’t even realize I missed that, but she’s thirteen here at the beginning of the story.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
@savannah_grace2009 Joke’s on me, I forgot I put it in the first sentence! But if you aren’t paying attention, it’s easy to miss. It’s vague, and you’d have to assume she was living there since she was born, so I should probably clarify that a little, but it’s there.
“A dull ache filled my heart as I took a last look around the house I had called home for the last thirteen years.”
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
oh yeah I remember reading that, I just didn’t put two and two together haha! Like you said, I just took it as that’s how long she lived there, not how old she was.
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333Dropping some more of the story… here we go with some more of the journey! It needs more work, but this is what I’ve got so far….
The next morning we were up before dawn again, starting another day of endless walking. This continued to be our pattern for the remainder of the week. It rained on our fourth day of the journey, not all day, but a good part of it. We were soaked through and through; the ground turned soft and made it harder for the oxen to pull the wagons. By the time we set up camp, the rain had stopped, but we were still wet. We dried out a little by the fire, but the ground was all wet when we settled down for the night. We couldn’t all fit in the wagons, only Mattie and Oscar.
Fortunately, the following day was sunny, and I finally felt like I was able to rid my bones of the dampness. On the eighth day of our journey, our wagon hit a deep rut and one of the wheel spokes snapped. We were forced to stop where we were, and James took his horse to ride off to the nearest town to find someone who could help us fix the wheel.
In the meantime, Mama shooed us all off to occupy ourselves in the woods. Etta stayed behind to watch Mattie, but I joined the boys. This was becoming a pattern- I was more of a tomboy, and I had a longing for adventure, so I tagged along with the boys. I had tried talking to Etta a little bit, and while she was sweet, she didn’t say much. I followed the boys as they blazed their way through the brush.
“Look, here’s a little creek,” Albert announced, holding back branches. Oscar let out a whoop and scrambled down the bank into the water. George soon followed, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were splashing their way down the creek toward a tiny waterfall. Albert continued to hold the brush aside until Abe and I had made our way down the bank. I lifted the hem of my dress and waded into the water. It was icy cool, and shocked my senses at first. Albert jumped down into the water and swept his arm across the surface, sending an icy spray over me and Abe.
“Albert!” I cried out in annoyance. He always seem to find a way to tease me and get on my nerves. I didn’t mind so much when my brothers did it, they knew my boundaries. Albert didn’t know when to stop, and it aggravated me to no end.
“Aw, you don’t know how to have fun,” Albert complained. “It’s really not that bad.” I glared at him. Abe splashed Albert back and then took off down the creek towards George and Oscar. I expected Albert to give chase, but instead he lingered near me. He stood still for a second, studying me, and his gaze softened. Water dripped off his fingertips.
“You know, Libbie, I’m going to marry you someday,” he announced. Of all the strange things Albert said, this certainly topped the list. I hadn’t ever expected those words from his mouth, and I had no idea how to respond. As good-looking of a guy as he was, Albert didn’t fit my ideas of husband material. I couldn’t imagine ever marrying someone who annoyed me as much as he did.
“Ha!” I scoffed. “You’d have to come a long way for that. I’m gonna marry a fine gentleman who knows how to treat a woman with respect.”
Albert laughed. “You’re hardly a woman.” I felt my already red cheeks turn a deeper shade. I was painfully aware of my lack of a figure. I didn’t need Albert, of all people, to remind me.
“I will be one day,” I retorted. “And when I am, I’m not going to be looking for the likes of you.”
Albert seemed unfazed in his confident assertion that he would marry me. I sincerely hoped he was wrong.
Our wagon wheel was fixed, and we continued on our way, across the hills of Pennsylvania. We passed through Pittsburgh three and a half weeks after we’d begun our journey. After a month of travel, we were midway through Ohio.
As the days passed on more and more, I grew tired of the monotony. Every day we were up at the crack of dawn, eating a cold breakfast of porridge or something of the like, and hitting the trail. We kept moving all day, the oxen plodding along one step in front of the other. The wagon constantly bounced over ruts and stones and roots, so that riding in the wagon wasn’t any more enjoyable than walking alongside. Even Clara resorted to walking most of the time, complaining of blisters on her feet. Most days the sun beat down, and on those days, we welcomed a passing shower, but other days it poured all day, a soaking, drenching rain that chilled to the bone.
Occasionally, we’d come to a creek or river that we needed to cross, and if we were lucky, we could cross on a ferry, but when we weren’t so lucky, we had to swim. Only Mattie remained in the wagon, since she was too little to swim.
I missed my close friends from back east, and I longed for companionship, but most times Etta kept to herself. Sometimes during the lonely walks, I hurried ahead to where Etta was walking with Mattie and kept pace beside them. I would talk to Etta about where we were going, wondering what it would be like living on the frontier. Etta usually only responded with an indifferent shrug, or an “I don’t know.” Gradually, I got tired of trying to converse with her, and dropped back to join the boys. Albert and Abe had become fast friends, Albert often coming up with ideas of things to do along the way, and Abe, being the level-headed one, talking him out of all the dangerous things. George and Oscar usually tagged along with them, though the older boys sometimes excluded them if they thought what they were doing was risky for the younger ones.
With no one else to do things with, I often tagged along with Albert and Abe, too. Abe occasionally seemed bothered by me hanging around, but he was quick to jump into my defense when Albert started annoying me. Albert had a habit of creeping up behind me and yanking my braids, and he said the most outlandish things sometimes, to go right along with his wild ideas, but he at least didn’t seem to mind when I hung around.
I wished my friend Elizabeth had come along with us instead of the Cullivers. Then I could at least talk to someone who would carry on a conversation with me, someone who knew me. As it was, I had to settle for attempting conversations with Etta or tolerate Albert’s teasing.
One day, somewhere in the middle of Ohio, things changed for me and Etta. We had been encamped near a river, knowing we would have to cross. Fortunately, there was a ferry, but the man running it told us we would have to swim, or the ferry would be too heavy to make it.
I wasn’t fond of crossing rivers, especially the ones where the current was strong. With this one, however, I was at least able to hold on to the edge of the ferry. One wagon at a time could cross, and Etta went with the first one, as did I.
We were about halfway across the river when I saw a protruding log just next to the ferry, right in Etta’s line of impact.
“Etta, watch out!” I called out. Etta turned and saw the log just before she bumped into it. The force caused her to lose her grip on the ferry, and unprepared for the sudden change, the current pushed her under. “Etta!” I screamed. Keeping one arm firmly looped around one of the ferry posts, I reached with my other arm for Etta. Etta popped up above the water again, gasping and coughing, fighting against the current. I kept groping for her, my fingertips brushing the fabric of her dress. At last I was able to grip her arm, and I clung to her with all my might. The arm entwined around the ferry post began to tremble. With a grunt and a strength I didn’t know I had, I pulled Etta towards me until she was able to cling to my waist. The added weight dragged me down, and I struggled to keep my chin above the water. I felt as though my arm would slip from the ferry post at any moment.
James, who was just ahead of us, had seen what happened and was making his way towards us down the ferry. When he reached us, he wrapped his arm around Etta’s waist to support her, and I regripped the ferry post with my other arm, trembling from the exertion. Etta was still coughing, trying to grip another post, but she was weakened, too.
“You did great, Libbie,” James told me. “Your effort probably saved her life.”
I was too exhausted to care. I could think about it later.
When we reached the other side of the river, James pulled me and Etta out of the river. There we both sat heavily on the ground, exhausted and soaked to the bone.
“Thank you, Libbie,” Etta said gratefully. “If it weren’t for you, I might have drowned.”
I blushed and said nothing. That was the most Etta had said to me in the past week. From that moment on, it felt as though a thread had been woven in the thin fabric of our friendship. Etta still didn’t say much, but there seemed to be a mutual trust between us even in the silence.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
I really like it so far! I don’t have much feedback, but I would love to read whatever comes next!
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
@hybridlore I’ll keep posting more when I have time!
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
@savannah_grace2009 @hybridlore
Here’s another segment! Not sure if I got all the historical details correct, so let me know if something seems out of place or unrealistic.
August 1883: Settling Down
After two months of travel, we were in Iowa. Three weeks after that, we arrived in Omaha, Nebraska. Here we stayed for about a week, resting from the months of travel before making the final leg of the journey to our homesteads.
While we were in Omaha, Pa decided to buy some seeds to start his crops next year. Etta and I went with Pa and Mr. Culliver to the general store to get them, and I suddenly became conscious of how much I looked like a tramp. My feet were bare and dusty, my hair hadn’t been washed lately, and my dress was faded and also coated with dust. I didn’t like the looks Etta and I were getting from some of the town girls we passed, dressed crisply in clean clothes, and the young women doing their hair in the latest fashions.
I kept my head down in shame as I tried to keep pace with Pa’s longer legs. Inside the general store, I edged closer to Etta as Pa and Mr. Culliver picked out their seeds.
“Some day we won’t look like this,” I whispered. “We’ll be wearing clean dresses and have our hair fixed in the latest fashion.”
“I’ll just be thankful when I can sleep in a bed again and have a roof over my head,” Etta whispered back. I mentally chided myself for longing for something so vain when even the most
practical needs still weren’t met. Etta had a wisdom I lacked. What did it matter if we were a little dirty and dusty? No one else in our party minded, and they were the people who knew us best and loved us.
At long last, we had our claims right at the edge of Big Deer, Nebraska. The land bordered each other; we were to be neighbors. The land was unsettled, meaning that although we’d arrived, no house had been built on it yet. For the first time since we’d begun the trip, Pa stopped the wagon on our claim and the Cullivers kept going into the distance to camp on theirs. They were only a mile and a half away, but it was first time we’d been separated since starting the journey.
Just as we had been doing on the trail, we continued to camp on the prairie, sleeping under or in the wagon most nights. We kept a fire burning all night long to ward off the wolves, and Pa and James kept their rifles handy.
After talking it over with Mr. Culliver, Pa began chopping down trees by the creek running through our land, with James and Abe and George assisting. Slowly, our new log home began to be built. Mr. Culliver, Albert, and Oscar came over to help, as well as some of our new neighbors to the south, who lived closer to town.
At last, the log cabin was built and ready to move into. It was small; there was one room for eating, dining, and living, and another room into which two of our cots were crammed. A tiny loft gave space for the three boys to sleep. The floors were dirt, and we still did not have a fireplace yet, so all of our cooking would have to be done outdoors. The roof and parts of the walls were made of sod, but I felt much better having walls between me and the wolves, even if those walls had yet to be chinked.
As soon as our cabin was up, we helped the Cullivers build a soddy. They didn’t have any trees on their land or the money to purchase lumber yet, so a sod house would have to do for now.
The next thing to do once the Cullivers’ soddy was built was to add our fireplace. This was painstaking work, but I could help by finding rocks at the streambed.
“Are you all going to school this winter?” Albert asked me one time as we were down in the creek searching for the right sized stones.
“I think so,” I replied. “I’m a little nervous. I haven’t met hardly anyone else in the town yet.”
“Ah, it’ll be just fine,” Albert reassured me. “We’ll walk together every day. You and Etta will probably be in the same grade.” I knew most children stopped attending school at the age of fifteen, so this winter would probably be the last time Albert and Abe went to school.
Once the fireplaces were built, it was time to dig the wells. While we had been using creek water, it would be easier to have a well near the house during the winter so we didn’t have to walk so far.
Pa and Mr. Culliver determined a good location, and then Pa began to dig, supporting the sides with wooden boards. Meanwhile, James, Albert, and Abe began building the rigging so that buckets could be lowered down into the well. When Pa had gotten down too far to thrust the dirt out himself, he began filling buckets, which the boys helped pull up and dump out. Pa and Mr. Culliver switched places, digging down deeper. I stood to the side and watched the whole thing, the boys sweating as they worked in the sun.
On the second day of working, as the boys were hauling Pa up by the rope, I heard a cry and came running. All three boys and Mr. Culliver were gathered around the opening of the well, peering down into the darkness below.
“What happened?” I asked, peering down into the well beside them. I couldn’t see Pa’s candle down there anymore.
“The rope broke when we were lifting him up,” Albert replied. “We hadn’t gotten very far, so he couldn’t have fallen much of a distance. His light probably snuffed when he fell.”
“Pa! Can you hear us?” I hollered.
“I can hear you!” A muffled voice replied. “I’m all right, just bruises.”
“We’ll have to find a new rope to get you out,” Mr. Culliver called down. “Hang in there, we’ll get you out!”
James rode his horse into town to buy a new, sturdier rope. He returned an hour later, and the boys attached it to the winch, throwing one end down to Pa. I was relieved when I finally saw Pa’s dirty face emerge from the well.
“Thank the Lord you’re all right,” Abe exclaimed. “If we’d have pulled you any higher, you might’ve broken a bone or fallen to your death.”
After several days of hard work, the well was dug. Pa covered the opening with wooden boards that could be moved when we needed water, and then the same process was begun all over again at the Culliver’s homestead. I prayed for the Lord’s protection over the men again as they dug the well, knowing full well the dangers accompanying it.
By now, it was getting colder and most of our neighbors were harvesting. Once Pa built a temporary sod shelter for the animals, he and the boys went around to help out the other harvesters. Normally Mama and Clara and I should have gone, too, but we were busy preparing the home for winter. Pa and James had started chinking the cabin, but they left most of it for us to do while they were out harvesting. I was also sent out to collect buffalo chips for our fuel stash. The only trees in the area were by the creek, and even those had become scarce thanks to using so many for our cabin, so our fuel source was buffalo chips, dried stalks of sunflowers and weeds.
Every Sunday, our two families walked into town for church. I was beginning to recognize some of the other town members and neighbors, but I had not taken the time to meet any of the girls around my age.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
Looks good! Didn’t really notice anything to fix.
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
“I’ll just be thankful when I can sleep in a bed again and have a roof over my head,” Etta whispered back. I mentally chided myself for longing for something so vain when even the most
practical needs still weren’t met. Etta had a wisdom I lacked. What did it matter if we were a little dirty and dusty? No one else in our party minded, and they were the people who knew us best and loved us.
At long last, we had our claims right at the edge of Big Deer, Nebraska. The land bordered each other; we were to be neighbors. The land was unsettled, meaning that although we’d arrived, no house had been built on it yet. For the first time since we’d begun the trip, Pa stopped the wagon on our claim and the Cullivers kept going into the distance to camp on theirs. They were only a mile and a half away, but it was first time we’d been separated since starting the journey.
The only things I noticed were in these paragraphs. I think you accidentally bumped the enter key because the paragraphs splits in the middle of the sentence. When you said “At long last” did you mean to say that? It just seemed like it was worded kind of strangely. Maybe it’s an “expression” that I haven’t heard before, lol.
But otherwise, great job! I love the plot and the characters.
@hybridlore : I like your signature!Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333@savannah_grace2009 haha I think that paragraph mistake happened when I was copying and pasting over from my document lol.
“At long last” is an expression (it’s like “at last”, but implies more of a “finally, after all that struggle”) but it felt a little weird to me too when I was reading it again so I’ll probably change that.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
Got it! I’d just never heard it before, but it makes sense.
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333Also, I have to know…is Libbie ever going to fall for Albert? It’s okay if you can’t say because of spoilers but I just wanted to know, haha.
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333I think I’ll let you find out what happens 🙃
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.