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Friday, November 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
The First Five Pages Present Roan Rose by Juliet Waldron
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| Roan Rose by Juliet Waldron |
The Kingdom of Night
The King of England and I played
chess, passing his sleepless hours. After years of struggling with the game, I
can truthfully say I'd become a formidable competitor, although never his
equal. I will stand firm upon this, even though I am a servant and a mere
female.
Nightly, our forces swayed back and
forth across the board, ‘til the birds began a summons to Dawn, calling her, as
harpers say, from that silken couch whereon she dreams. We sat in a circle of
candlelight in a small, high room at the palace of Westminster. From our
vantage point, the dark river ribbon, spangled by summer stars, flowed below a
single, open window. The distance was sufficient to prevent the smell from blighting
the view.
Of late, I had won a few matches.
This I credited in large part to the King's growing distraction and exhaustion.
By June of 1485, it was clear his rule had unraveled.
What other choices, however, could
my Lord have made? If he had let his nephew ascend the throne, his own head,
sooner or later, would have become the trophy of his vengeful sister‑in‑law.
Either that or he would have been arrested and mewed up somewhere, murdered in
secret, like so many unfortunate members of his family.
Richard Plantagenet knew history,
and he was not a passive man. All he'd done in deposing the boy was to strike
his enemies before they could strike him.
There is a queasy mystery in the
hours between two and four. The board, with its black and white squares, swam
before my eyes. I, too, was tired to my very bones. The King's wakefulness had
become his servant's. I had been about to make my move when his foot,
under a long red robe, touched mine beneath the table.
The contact seemed accidental. Or
was it?
He knows how greatly I love him, how
I hunger for his touch!
Concentration broken, I met his
brilliant hazel eyes, burning deep in hollows of chronic sleeplessness. A
slight smile curved those thin, mobile lips, but his gaze returned naturally to
the board.
Our relationship had always been
singular. Only recently had it turned customary. Since his queen, the mistress
I'd served and loved for nigh unto twenty years, had died, the Master had
turned for comfort to his bondswoman. So it has always been.
This is why his touch distracted me,
made concentration falter. I began to wonder if the move I'd planned was so
very clever after all.
My hand wavered over the few
remaining pieces. Traps lay on every side. Several I saw clearly, for I'd been
playing chess with Richard since our shared childhood. Whatever coup de
grace he'd planned, I feared I'd never see until too late.
I'd revised, chosen to move my last knight to pin down his king. Of course, I knew quite well that second guesses are nearly always fatal at this depth in a match.
Richard lifted a dark brow in
triumph. "Nothing in this world is fair," he declared. As his hand
went for it, I saw my doom—a hooded bishop, far across the board.
"Checkmate." He extended
his jeweled, elegant fingers, using the piece to nudge my helpless king.
"You touched my foot on
purpose, My Lord."
"Quite right. What of it?"
It was worth losing any number of chess matches to see him smile. Always
glorious and rare, it had, lately, become a thing of legend.
"Old Dick" didn't smile.
This was well known all over his Kingdom. Like a great many other things that
are well known, there was not a grain of truth in it.
"I don't mind, My Lord.
It's only that you used to win by your wits, and now it seems you must rely
upon the lowest wiles to best your humble servant."
He laughed shortly, enjoying the
backchat, but it was not an entirely happy sound. Playing with my white king
now, turning it between ringed thumb and forefinger, he said, "It would
have been far better for me had I learned low tricks at a far earlier
age."
What could I say? Crouching at the
back of this night's wakefulness lay the same old horror.
Poor little Princes! The pawns are
always the first to go…
In my Lord's case, crime had
brought, as it so rarely does in this wicked world, punishment not
only swift, but apt. In the space of sixteen months, the King had lost his
adored son and his dearly beloved wife, my gentle mistress.
On this summer night, Richard
Plantagenet had traveled almost to the end of his earthly course, to the
desolate, crow-haunted land where mortal tribulation ends. Gazing at the ruin
of our board, I believe we both knew it.
JULIET WALDRON'S Links
Book Trailer for Roan Rose by Juliet Waldron
Friday, November 8, 2013
SPOTLIGHT
ON ONLY LOVE SURVIVES
ONLY LOVE SURVIVES BY RENEE CHARLES
Amidst an epidemic ravaging the world, all Megan Fletcher's hopes for the future lie in getting to Las Vegas where newscasts reported scientists were gathering to search for a cure for the modern plague. After rescuing her from a rooftop surrounded by Zombies, Sam Woods appoints himself her escort. While he knows she is determined to get to Vegas no matter the cost, he doesn't know her secret. And with his hatred of all things Zombie, she doesn’t dare tell him the truth. The more he kisses her, the harder it is for Megan to hide her growing feelings…and the bite-shaped scar.
But Vegas is not the haven it was promised to be, and when Megan’s immunity to the disease is discovered, she realizes her future and her heart belong to Sam, if he will trust her. An idealistic school teacher and ex-corporate mogul manage to find love despite a looming worldwide catastrophe. Can their love survive while everything around them is dying? Will they learn that when facing the end of the world, Only Love Survives?
Available now!
EXCERPT:
A storm that spelled danger flashed across Sam’s face. He advanced on Megan so fast, she backed up against the side of the Suburban. Planting a hand firmly on each side of her, he pinned her with his arms as well as his gaze.
“What I want? Are you so hard headed you can’t tell what I want?” He covered her mouth with his lips and crushed her clever comeback with an assault on her senses.
Megan pushed him, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he continued to kiss her until her heart raced and cheeks flushed with need. All resistance melted and she succumbed to the warmth of his embrace. Her arms wound around his neck of their own accord pulling him closer while her tongue sought his in a passionate dance, completely ignoring what her heart wanted.
When he finally broke away leaving Megan breathless and wanting so much more, Sam put his forehead to hers and watched her mouth like a drunk watches amber liquid poured into a glass. “You,” he rasped. “I’ve wanted you since I found you hanging from that damn roof, and all our little encounter in the river did was add fuel to the fire.”
Bio: Author, Renee Charles believes all love is legendary. Being the only female in a house full of giants (husband and two teenage boys) she tends to lean toward the strange and unusual, but inevitably the softer side shines through.
Whether life leads her to a snow covered mountain top, sun dappled forest, or the bottom of a ravine (yes, ditches happen) she always has a pen and note pad ready so wherever the next adventure takes her, she can take notes.
Her own romance began in an insane asylum. Luckily, both she and her husband only worked there. But it makes sense her romance novels have strange beginnings that lead to passionate endings. Romance with a dark twist.
In the face of zombies, werewolves, and big foot she always seems to find a happily ever after to leave you with a sigh at the end.
Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/ReneeCharlesAuthor
Website link: http://www.reneecharles.net/
Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Renee-Charles/e/B009Z0MYCI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
THE GIVEAWAY!!
Thursday, November 7, 2013
The First Five Pages Presents Under the Smoke by Gene Harmon
The Loop Road
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| Cover Image for Under the Smoke |
There is no better way to start this book than with a
description which attempts to do justice to this valley hidden high in the
western reaches of the Smoky Mountains. A one-way road encircles the fields and
streams of Cades Cove and follows the approximate route of one of the many
roads once used by families who resided here. It is nine miles west of the
Townsend park entrance along Laurel Creek Road. Constructed after the park was
established, this access to the Cove follows the course of a railroad built by
the Little River Lumber Company in the heydays of the Appalachian log industry.
Prior to this, travel to and from the Cove community was along other paths now
less traveled.
In order to reach Tuckaleechee Cove, either Crib Gap
had to be crossed to the east or Rich Mountain to the north. Cooper Road, which
led west-northwest to Maryville, was a Cherokee Indian track widened over time
by the settlers. Rabbit Creek exited the Cove toward the west from where John
Oliver’s lodge stood near the Abrams Falls trailhead. This Indian trail also
grew into a major travel route and was known by many as the Gourley Trail after
some of the families who lived along it. Those who chose this means ended up in
Happy Valley and the Chilhowee areas. Parsons Branch Road meandered
south-southwest from the western end of the Cove to a junction with a turnpike
now known as US 129.
Of these main thoroughfares, if you could call them
that, only Rich Mountain and Parsons Branch remain as roads. Both of these are
one-way trips out of the Cove and are closed over the winter. The Rich Mountain
Road drops into Tuckaleechee Cove on the north boundary of the park. Townsend
and US 321 are nearby which gives you the option of a drive back into to the
Smokies or out toward Maryville. The Crib Gap trail now runs from Anthony Creek
at the end of the Cades Cove picnic area over to Turkeypen Ridge. The Cooper
Road trailhead is located at Stop # 9 on the Loop Road. Rabbit Creek Trail can
be found beyond Abrams Falls and continues on to traverse Boring Ridge, McCully
Ridge, and Pine Mountain before a descent to the Abrams Creek ranger station.
At the entrance to the Cove, there is a large area
with an orientation shelter from where first views can be seen of the valley as
the trees open up and ridges curve away from each other. Tour booklets are
available at the small pavilion and ranger programs often start from this point
in the spring and summer. A wide grassy strip is ideal for a picnic or play.
Early or late in the day, the fields beyond the entrance
gate are often occupied by horses from the stables put out to graze early. To
the south rise the heights of Cobb and Horseshoe Ridges. Rising higher n the
distance to the southeast can be seen Rocky Top and Thunderhead Mountain. After
decades, this view never ceases to amaze me.
In the first field on the right is a grassy mound. At
first thought to be an Indian mound like others found in the southeast,
excavation and archaeological searches have proven it to be no more than a
grassy hill covered with brush and trees. Even so, it is easy to imagine it
constructed by early inhabitants especially after a visit to ancient mounds on
the Etowah River not far from my home.
The one lane road continues along the edge of open
grassland to the left and wooded ridges to the right. Stop # 2 is soon found at
a junction with Sparks Lane, a gravel road that turns off to the south. This
road is named for one of the families who lived here. The home of Nathan Sparks
was located between this intersection and the creek. John Taylor Sparks lived a
few hundred yards beyond the creek on the right. The place Tom Sparks called
home was located in the area near the south end of the lane where it enters the
woods. The ford across Abrams Creek mentioned later in these pages is located
at the first tree line seen along the road. The Upper School was just off the
road on the south side of the creek. Sparks Lane crosses the Cove to the
southern end of the Loop Road. Two-way traffic is allowed on this road as it is
on Hyatt Lane further to the west and both allow for a quicker drive through
the loop if time is not available to see it all.
Spaces to park for John Oliver’s place are just beyond
Sparks Lane. It is a short walk and can be seen from the road. This cabin was
built in the 1820s and only piles of stones mark the nearby location of
Oliver’s first home. John Oliver was a veteran of the War of 1812 with no
qualms about life in an unknown wilderness. A family friend told him of a place
just over the mountains as yet unsettled. He, along with his wife Lurany and
year old daughter, crossed over Rich Mountain in the autumn of 1818 into the
northeast end of the Cove by way of an Indian trail. It was too late in the
year to plant crops and they soon realized their provisions would not last them
through the winter. The Cherokee in the area recognized the plight of the
couple and brought them food to survive until the next spring. Though
documented land grants for the area date back to the 1790s, they would become
the first white settlers to remain in this mountain valley. A strange twist of
fate twenty years after that miserable winter found John Oliver as a member of
the local militia with orders to round up these same Indians for a journey
which became known as the Trail of Tears.
Open pastures, wooded hillsides, and mountain vistas
continue to appear around every curve. Not far after the road ascends a steep,
curvy hill, there is a locked gate on the right with a small pull over. Beyond
the gate is a park service road which leads a short distance to Gregory’s Cave.
Once used by the local Indians, the Cove residents held social occasions and
tours within the caverns.
The entrance is gated off and kept secure to not only
protect the cave and its residents such as bats, but also for the safety of
human visitors. Caves are not someplace an inexperienced person should wander
within. Extra care should also be taken on or near the rocks at the entrance
for they are known to be a favorite locale of snakes.
As the trees open up again to your left, watch for a
pullout. The view back across to the south is channeled through a break in the
distant wood line with a mountain backdrop. It is not hard to imagine this view
from the porch of a cabin or house. Signs of spring with daffodils among the
grass tell us someone had this view. These flowers are not native to the area
so their appearance, along with other non-native flowers and bushes, whisper
silently to those who will listen of a previous human touch. In this case, that
touch was given by Tyre Shields whose house was at the edge of the field near
the road.
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| Author Gene Harmon |
After the road curves back into the woods, a sign soon
points down a dirt road toward the Primitive Baptist Church. Albert Hill’s
store and house stood to the right at this intersection. Go slowly along the
dirt and gravel for it can be rough in places. For a short distance, it travels
straight and then angles to the right into a large gravel area in front of the
church.
The Consolidated School, created by the combination of
the Upper and Lower Schools in 1916, was located at this angle and in 1924, the
large two-story structure sustained heavy damage to the upper floor in a storm.
When it was repaired, it was left in a one-story configuration.
The Baptist Church of Cades Cove was officially organized
in June of 1827 but had already met for about two years. Services were held in
the homes of members until a log structure was built in 1832. Soon after,
differences in the church’s direction caused a split within the congregation.
Several members left to form their own church, the Missionary Baptist Church.
Those who stayed with the original membership adopted the name of Primitive
Baptist Church.
Due to the communal upheaval caused by the Civil War,
the Primitive Baptist Church suspended services from 1862 to 1865. Their
reasons were explained in church records.
“We the Primitive Baptist Church in Blount County,
Cades Cove, do show to the publick why we have not kept up our church meeting.
It was on account of the rebellion and we was union people and the Rebels was
too strong here in Cades Cove. Our preacher was obliged to leave sometimes but
thank God we once more can meet tho it was from August 1862 until June 1865
that we did not meet but when we met the Church was in peace.”
The original log edifice was located just behind the
current structure which was built in 1887. Its cemetery contains graves older
than any other church graveyard within the Cove.
Back out on the paved loop, another church comes into
view ahead. This is the Cades Cove Methodist Church which began in much the
same manner as the Baptist congregation. Members met in homes until 1840 when a
log meetinghouse was built. The floor of this simple structure was dirt and
smoke from a fire in the center of the room escaped through a hole in the roof.
After the Civil War, it was also used as a school.
In 1902, a blacksmith and carpenter from Tuckaleechee
replaced the log church with the one which remains today. Rev. J.D. McCampbell,
who would later become the church’s minister for several years, finished the
job in 115 days for $115. It has two entrance doors which usually signified the
men and women entered by separate doors and sat apart on the benches. However,
these Methodists did not abide by this particular practice. The construction
plans used were from another church which still used the custom and Rev.
McCampbell elected to strictly adhere to the plans without alteration.
As with other congregations, problems arose in the
years prior to the Civil War. In the mid-1840s, there was a split among
Methodist churches caused mainly by beliefs with regard to the issue of
slavery. It was made plainly visible after the Civil War when the Hopewell
Methodist Church formed. It was built on a hill above the southern end of Hyatt
Lane and the property of Dan Lawson who donated the land for the church. To
ensure this land could never change hands again, Lawson deeded it to “Almighty
God”. I assume this is probably the only tract in the park not owned by the
National Park Service. No signs remain of this church except for tombstones,
many too weathered to read, which mark graves of those buried in their shadows.
Just past the Methodist church on the left of the road
is a hill where the home of Leannah Lawson Spangler Chambers stood. In spring,
the flowers she planted continue to grow and adorn the hillside.
Fields slope down to a dirt road which turns off to
the left and allows for two-way traffic. Hyatt Lane is named after the family
of Shadrack Hyatt who left the Cove for Missouri in 1840. It crosses to the
south side of the Cove and intersects with the Loop Road at Dan Lawson’s home
site. Beyond Hyatt Lane, the road curves into the trees toward the juncture
with Rich Mountain Road at the Missionary Baptist Church. Cowan Russell lived
and ran his store near this junction.
The Missionary Baptist Church sits to the left across
from the Rich Mountain turnoff. It was founded in 1839 by the group forced to
leave the Primitive Baptist Church. Their name is derived from one of the
differences in doctrine that caused the split. While deemed important to those
who worshipped under this roof, missionary work was not considered necessary by
the Primitive Baptists. It met in homes until 1846 when its size required them
to share the Methodist’s house of worship. The services here too were put on
hold throughout the Civil War. Resumed afterwards, they did not include
previous members who had been loyal to the Confederacy.
In 1894, Hyatt Hill Missionary Church was built on
Hyatt Hill along the lane. This was replaced in 1915 by the construction of the
present structure. Services continued to be held in this church until 1944, a
full ten years after the park was created.
The Great Depression and the administration of
President Franklin D. Roosevelt wrought a multitude of changes to the country.
FDR’s New Deal programs provided relief and jobs to many young men in dire need
of an income. One of these was the formation of the Civilian Conservation
Corps. There were seventeen of these camps in the Smoky Mountains alone. Much
of the original trail and campground construction, historic restoration and
park service structures were completed by the CCC camps. Cades Cove CCC Camp #5427
was located in the field directly west of the Missionary Baptist Church.
The Rich Mountain Road is a one-way road out of the
Cove and out of the park. Built in the 1920s by the state of Tennessee, it
winds through mostly second growth forests with intermittent views of the Cove.
Traveled by few, it is sometimes a quiet respite from summer crowds in the more
popular areas. It exits from the park into Tuckaleechee Cove and Townsend.
From the Rich Mountain turnoff, the Loop crosses over
Tater Branch, makes a sharp S-turn and meanders up toward what I think is the
most spectacular sight in the Cove. Pull over and grab your camera. From this
point, the view stretches for miles back toward the east across the center of
the Cove to distant peaks. On clear days, mountains and ridges seem to go on
endlessly. The remains of a tree on this rise mark the spot of the “wedding
tree” which is mentioned later. Across the road in what is now a wooded area
stood the Gregory Store, Jonathan Myers’ house and store, and Murray Boring’s
house. Myers and Boring also both ran a post office at different times.
From here, the road meanders back and forth along the
edge of the woods before a sharp turn angles it back into the trees. This was
the site of Charlie Myers’ house and his barn bordered right up to the trees.
The fields open up again on the left after a short section of woods. A few
hundred yards farther is a small pull-off for the Cooper Road trailhead at Stop
# 9. Originally an Indian trail, it became one of the main thoroughfares to and
from Maryville for the Cove residents. Polly Harmon, one of the midwives who
practiced in the Cove, lived with her husband, Samuel, and family about half a
mile out this road. It is now a 10.5-mile trail that terminates at the Abrams
Creek Campground on the western edge of the park.
Beyond this trailhead and a downward S-turn is Stop #
10, the Elijah Oliver place. Elijah was born in 1824 to John and Lurany Oliver.
He left the Cove with his family before the Civil War but moved back after the
war. A short hike will bring you to his cabin set back in the woods. One
noticeable thing is an extra room on the front porch added so strangers could
shelter for the night without the possibility of harm inflicted on the host.
This was common not only in the Smokies but throughout the Appalachian region.
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| Author Gene Harmon |
Just ahead, the remnant of an old road is apparent on
the left. This led to the house of Noah Burchfield and now takes you to the
Burchfield and Davis Cemeteries.
Once again in the shade of the trees, the road runs
very close to Abrams Creek and crosses it over a wooden bridge. On the right
before the bridge can be seen a modern wire fence which has been erected to
keep wild boar out of this sensitive area. River otters are quite common in
this creek as well as other waterways in the Smokies. However, they can be very
elusive to those who want to see them. I have overheard conversations of people
who have, but I myself have never seen one in the wild. Past the bridge, a side
road angles off to the Abrams Falls trailhead.
The next section of the Loop road is a great example
of what travel along the same road over decades can do. The banks rise high on
each side for a couple hundred yards. Years of travel by wagon wheels, horses,
and livestock wore it down to a sunken lane. The Lower School was located on
the right at the top of the rise.
At the next intersection, the Loop continues to the
left. Straight ahead is Forge Creek, a two-way road out to Parsons Branch. The
Cable Mill Visitor Center is to the right. Use caution for this is usually very
congested except for the winter months. This area consists of several examples
of what homesteads looked like in the Cove. The only structure on its original
site is the mill and its millrace. Others located here are the visitor center,
a blacksmith shop, smokehouse, barn, corncrib, cantilever barn, sorghum mill,
barn, and the Gregg-Cable house. This is also the only place to find restrooms
until arriving back at the campground.
The Gregg-Cable house was built by Leason Gregg on
Forge Creek Road in 1879 near where the road first crosses the creek. The
lumber used was sawed at John Cable’s sawmill that was powered by the same
wheel as the gristmill. He operated a store for years from the first floor of
the house. In 1887, Rebecca Cable and her brother Dan bought the house from
Gregg. They kept the store up for another eight years before they made the
decision to sell off their goods and turn it into a boarding house. Dan and his
wife both became very ill and all of the operations of the farm fell upon
Rebecca’s shoulders. She tackled the responsibility with typical Appalachian
steadfastness, lived a full life and was 96 years old when she died in 1940.
The house was moved to its current location near Cable Mill after her death.
John Cable’s gristmill and sash sawmill were built in
1870. The sawmill used a heavy blade that made a cut with each stroke. This
type was outdated before 1900 by steam powered sawmills that used circular
blades much like today’s table saw. The emergence of sawmills in the Smokies
changed the look of homes, new and old alike. New log homes became rare and
many had additions built with the new lumber. Often, residents would place new
boards on the outside of their logs in the fashion of siding.
In addition to the mills, Cable worked in the fields
of his farm. If a customer arrived and John was nowhere near, they would ring a
large bell mounted on a pole. His son, James, continued operation of the mill
into the 1900s, but could not keep up with the mills equipped with the newer
machinery. Today, the gristmill is all that remains of the Cable operation and
is run by the Great Smoky Mountains History Association.
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