Gem's Place

Romance Writers Behaving Badly: The Evolution of the Writer

2010-10-11T13:53:00.000-04:00

Romance Writers Behaving Badly: The Evolution of the Writer: "Sometimes, we write things that surprise us. Catch us off guard and make us do a ton of research because we don't have a clue what our chara..."

Bald Faced Liar Award

2010-03-03T20:10:00.004-05:00

Ahem, I don't know why author Chloe Waits would send me a Bald Faced Liar Award... (of course she got one too!) unless she found out that five out of the seven next statements are bald-faced lies! See if you know which ones are true.

1. I take no prisoners on the golf course and am master of the back swing.

2. My horse-sense comes from growing up on a ranch.

3. I've visited Paris twice and got lost in the Louvre` once.

4. In Scotland I learned what is really worn under the kilt.

5. I kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland.

6. 5-Card Stud is my favorite poker game which is why I feature it in my latest book in the Bounty Hunters: Book Two.

7. I am sweet tempered and gracious at all times.

I now hereby pass on the Liar’s Torch to these writers ( in no particular order!). Keep the liar's game going. Visit their sites and see if you can guess which of their statements are little white lies:

1. Savanna Kougar http://kougarkisses.blogspot.com/

2.Juniper Bell-http://juniperbell.com/index.html

3. Trina M. Lee http://trinamlee.com/blog/

4. Jolie Cain-http://joliecainauthor.blogspot.com/?zx=a51dae165bfad9e0

5.Alanna Coca-http://alannacoca.com/blog/

6. Hailey Edwards http://cairinehouse.com/

7. Sara Brookes http://www.sarabrookes.net/

Please comment and let me know which you think are true!

Whispering Grace

2010-02-02T18:55:00.003-05:00

I love that title. This story I'm working on right now is painful to write. I know Grace Souter so well, and I struggle with her as she tries to make a life for herself and her son, William. For those of you who read Wolf's Tender, you've already met Grace. She was the fifth hostage, the woman being assaulted by her Indian guard when the McCallister men rescued the women prisoners.

Lozen (my tenacious muse) demanded that I write Grace's story. What happened next? She walked away from the McCallisters and said, "Tell my family I died in an Indian encampment in 1881. Tell them that Elizabeth Grace Souter is dead."

She intended to die. But then that pesky what if thought kept nagging me. What if Grace survived? How? She's in the middle of wilderness and it's late summer. Where would she live? What would she eat? Why would she bother at all, traumatized as she was?

Grace is such a strong woman it's been interesting learning about her. I feel like she's an old friend now. I'll let her tell you a little about herself.

1878~Connecticut

Father is anxious again. His colleagues have mounted a full scale campaign to convince him I can't join his practice. I fear he will capitulate to their entreaties. He is a proud man and sees scandal if I take my place in his clinic.

He would rather that I marry and take a wife's role as society matron. I'm surprised. Father was my ally. He was so proud of me when I studied his books as a child.

Contract and Release

2009-11-14T08:37:00.069-05:00

I appreciate all who have continued visiting me here. I have another web addy you might want to visit for daily updates Gem's Place Too. but I love this blog because it lets me get creative with pics and the meandering character profiles I like to post when I'm writing. Now let's see what my sizzling hot westerns have coming for your enjoyment.

The Bounty Hunters Series:

Book One: Wolf's Tender will debut on Monday, November 16th from Liquid Silver Books.Here are three reasons to consider reading about the McCallister men.

If you search the archives of this blog, you'll find the character profiles for Naomi Parker and Charlie Wolf McCallister.It seems like I've known them forever, working with them to get their story told.

Charlie Wolf McCallister~ Book I: Wolf's Tender

Rough and tough Charlie Wolf McCallister knows he needs to get laid, when even a spinster school teacher with a sharp tongue, starts looking good to him. But, cad that he is, he operates on the philosophy that a bird in hand is better than no bird at all. And so he offers to trade service for—servicing.

When Naomi Parker's students are snatched from their school by marauding Comancheros, she can't believe that she hid like a coward and let it happen. The only way to ease her conscience, and get the girls home safely, is to hire half-Kiowa bounty hunter, Charlie Wolf McCallister. His price seems a bit steep, to prim and proper Naomi who must choose between her virtue and her students’ lives.

When one straight-laced spinster, tenders her body, to one cynical sometimes savage, the unexpected bounty, is love.

Samuel (Snake) McCallister: Book II

Sam McCallister meets his match in both poker and love when Eden Pace joins him in a game of 5-Card Stud. No bet is too high or risk too much when the bounty hunter sets his heart on the gambler lady.

He's got a wanted poster that says she's his. Now all he needs to do is convince her that it's true. Sam and Eden will be coming soon.

Deacon (Robert) McCallister: Book III

Deacon McCallister is alone. Maybe because he’s feeling sorry for himself, he stumbles into an outlaw stronghold. After two days of torture, he knows he needs a miracle.

Miracle Beaumont works alone. She’s after the same bounty as the red-haired McCallister giant. When she sees Deacon following the tracks of the Dead or Alive she’s after, she trails him. And then the preacher ends up inside the outlaw camp, staked-out over an ant hill.

Deacon swears he’ll grant his rescuer any reward. But, when the mysterious woman who saves him disappears, the third bounty hunter is on the trail of a treasure much more alluring than any wanteds he’s ever claimed before.

Eclipse Hearts Series~Book Two: Breed True

Breed True, Julie and Grady's story is completed and will debut in February (tentatively) 2010.
I enjoyed writing this story and looking back at the character profile of Julie,

I remember what a struggle it was to capture her essence--tough, vulnerable, beautiful in looks and spirit as well. I'll post their book cover as soon as it is released.

Half-Apache rancher, Grady Hawks, owns close to 10,000 acres of water-enriched, Texas grassland.But as soon as his white father is no longer in control, an Eastern Land Company moves to steal the family ranch, claiming Grady is too Indian to rightfully own Hawks Nest.

Grady decides to apply what he’s learned in mixing different strains of cattle. He needs to find a red-haired woman and breed back to the fair skin and Scottish features of his father. With a white child and wife, he plans to appease his neighbors and out-maneuver the greedy Eastern Consortium of business men who are trying to steal Texas land.

But when Grady meets auburne-haired Julie Fulton, the last thing on his mind is breeding cattle.

Thanks for stopping by.

gem

Jewel Is My Name

2009-08-03T10:44:00.010-04:00

When I was just eighteen and full of myself, I met Frank Rossiter at a Tazwell County, Virginia Social. I ignored my mother's warning and latched on to the well-dressed gentleman when he asked me to dance.

My mother was recently remarried. Her new husband had a way of looking at me that made me uncomfortable. Without being vain, I knew when men stared,but having my mother's husband do it, caused discord and anger between us. She urged me to choose a man and get my own home.

There were plenty of farmers I could have married. But, I didn't want a man who smelled of pig manure or hayfields. When the sweet-smelling gambler came courting, I happily accepted his attentions.

I sold my grandmother's sixty acres and Frank and I ran off to get married. He bought me a new wardrobe, telling me that my clothes were too country and embarrassed him.

I didn't really feel comfortable in the type of dresses Frank chose. Most of them were cut scandalously low and displayed too much of my bosom. Then, besides my attire, he said I needed a new name--we'd call me Jewel, sort of like a stage name. He said, Julie was too frumpy for a wife of his.

I tried to argue, but soon found that when Frank didn't get his way, he flew into a violent rage and used his fists in anger.

I didn't love Frank Rossiter when I married him. I didn't even know him. But, I thought love would grow. I thought he did me a favor by getting me away from the small-minded community I despised. I thought if I did what he asked and tried to please him in every way, things would settle down between us.

I was wrong.

Julie Fulton Rossiter

2009-07-27T23:56:00.010-04:00

I hid my face so that they wouldn't be able to see my relief. Nobody cared that Frank Rossiter was dead. I was his wife, and I didn't care...no that wasn't true. I did care, I was glad.

Frank Rossiter was a millstone around my neck. Am I sad that he's dead? My God, no! Whoever killed him did me a favor.

I had already fled, taking the girls, and difficult as it had been, I'd found work in the next town, taking in washing. "My how the mighty are fallen," my mother would say.

It wasn't what I had planned for my life but I had twin daughters to care for and they would not be reared with a gambler's shill for their mother.

So, I left Frank. He didn't seem to mind until the money ran out. Then he came hunting. I told him to leave us alone. We wanted nothing from him, and he had no use for us. We would be fine on our own.

But Frank always liked to use persuasion. He knocked me down, took the twins and promised me that I wouldn't see them again until I came back to work for him.

It was a relief to have him admit that I was no more than his employee. It severed any remaining feelings I might have once had for the girls' father.

Marriage Record of Eclipse Citzens

2009-07-21T15:41:00.023-04:00

Eclipse Hearts Series:

Intimate Strangers-1874-1878~ Boston debutante, Lucille McKenna marries Texas rancher, Ambrose Quince and only when they lose each other do they learn how great is their love.

Breed True-1882~Julie Fulton Rossiter, gambler's shill and devoted mother of twin daughters, marries Grady Hawkins, half-Kiowa rancher in a devil's bargain.

Whisper My Love-1884~Dr. Elizabeth Grace Souter, survivor of brutal Indian captivity, finds an unexpected love when she marries half-Kiowa, Dan Two-Horse, to protect her half-Indian son.

The Bounty Hunter Series:

Book One: Wolf's Tender- 1881~ Kiowa half-breed, Charlie Wolf McCallister falls in love with spinster school teacher, Naomi Parker when she trades her innocence to save her kidnapped students.

Book Two: Snake McCallister-1883~Dare-devil, Sam McCallister marries timid Ohio farm-girl, Eleanor O'Dell to get a bounty hunting partner he won't lose. Ellie ups the ante, betting her heart in their game of winner take all.

Book Three: Hellcat-1885~Former preacher,Robert Deacon McCallister meets his match when female bounty hunter, Miracle Beaumont, pockets his heart while stealing his prisoners as well.

Breed True ~ Coming Soon Liquid Silver Books

2009-07-12T19:33:00.012-04:00

Breed True, the next story in my journey through the Old West, involves two unlikely lovers who make an unwholesome pact with each other. Grady Hawke is a half-Kiowa rancher who finds his land ownership being challenged because of his Indian blood.

Julie Fulton Rossiter is a gambler's widow who has finally discovered something more important than herself--her twin daughters, Amethyst and Emerald.

The things people will take a chance on. Hmmmm...Grady Hawke bets on the red-haired ancestry of his father, a Scottish immigrant, to cover his Kiowa blood. He proposes that auburn haired Julie, marry him and let him breed a son from her.

With questions about her involvment in the death of her recently deceased husband threatening to separate her from her children, Julie agrees. And in so doing, she wagers her life that she can handle the ruthless savage she takes to her bed. And, as they say, there lies the tale.

Lozen

2009-07-06T18:24:00.026-04:00

Lozen was the younger sister of the great Apache warrior, Victorio. The fierce leader and his sister understood that the Apache had won many battles but lost the war to the ever increasing number of white settlers.

Nevertheless, Victorio led his people in their resistance to those who came to steal Apache land. His secret weapon was his sister, Lozen, who was not only a healer, midwife, and prophet, but also a skillful warrior.

Victorio is quoted as saying, "Lozen is my right hand."

The Bounty Hunters

2009-07-06T18:15:00.009-04:00

PROLOGUE:

The three riders were haflings, too young in years to be men, but too weathered by hard times to be boys. The dark one, dressed like a Kiowa warrior, led the other two as they belly crawled to the edge of the rise and peered down at the Apache camp below.

Lozen, Victorio’s sister—the Apache woman warrior who was said to be a witch, a healer, and spiritual guide for her people—was in the center of the encampment, surrounded by the men of three Indian nations. Chief Nana leaned close to hear her words and the McCallisters teetered precariously above, listening too.

They were so enthralled, they didn’t hear the Arapaho braves who stole up from behind and took them prisoner, shoving them back to the camp where the Apache priestess waited.

The fire was just a fire, but later, all three agreed that her image had been unclear, sometimes almost transparent. She’d stared at them silently, studying them in a moment of utter still as the night and sounds receded and left only them, the flames, and the Indian woman—reading their souls.

“Why do you come here?” Her question was directed at Charlie Wolf, as it should be. He’d come and his cousins had followed.

The Bounty Hunters

2009-07-02T17:59:00.018-04:00

PROLOGUE:

“I’ve come to barter for a woman.” It wasn’t a lie. Charlie Wolf McCallister did want a woman. And that was more explainable than the need to see Lozen, the woman of magic who had sensed their presence while the Apache sentries had not.

She laughed then. It was a husky, rich sound that floated through the night and the men of three tribes laughed too.

She pointed at Robert, the tall, red-haired McCallister, already bigger than most men, white or Indian. “And you, do you seek an Apache woman too?”

Robert had been sparking Annie Ross, and his honesty wouldn’t stand for a lie. “No ma’am. Reckon I just followed Charlie Wolf to make sure he’d keep his hair while he was bartering for a bride.”

Lozen held his gaze, studying his face a long time.

Then her smile froze as her eyes met those of the third youth. “And you? Did you come for a woman, or do you protect your friend too?”

Younger than the other two, the third McCallister flashed an easy smile that made his handsome face almost angelic in its perfection. His light grey eyes were the silver of moonlight on water, and just as unfathomable.

“Heard you were magic,” he answered her laconically. “Thought you might be able to make me smart as the wolf,” he motioned his head toward Charlie, “or pure of spirit,” his nod credited Robert with this.

Black Hawk, the Arapaho young blood who’d followed the Indian seer's orders to capture them, claimed the honor of killing them. Chief Nana stayed his hand, looking at Lozen for direction. The three McCallisters watched her too.

The Bounty Hunters

2009-06-29T21:22:00.017-04:00

PROLOGUE:

She rose from her place by the fire and filled three bowls, carrying one to each McCallister in turn. When they all stood holding the noxious smelling liquid, she spoke, “Drink and know your dreams.”

Charlie studied her, Robert hesitated sniffing the contents suspiciously, but Samuel downed his in one gulp, laughing, “Come on boys, the party's just begun.”

As Charlie and Robert drank theirs, Samuel’s legs buckled and he went to his knees. He was barely out and lying flat on the ground before Charlie’s will was robbed from him and he collapsed too.

Robert, being the biggest, resisted the brew the longest. “So you’ve killed us?” He had time to ask the Apache priestess before he succumbed. Her words echoed in his mind as he went down.

“I’ve given you your futures. What you make of them is yet to be seen.”

When the three woke the next day, the campfire was dead, the ground was cold, and there was no sign that over a hundred Indians from three different nations had been there the night before.

Charlie told the two white boys later, "Lozen took us spirit walking in the otherworld to find the threads of who we will be."

No one volunteered to share his vision. It was an incident buried but not forgotten as the three McCallister men grew to manhood.

Cat Nip Post XXIX

2009-06-28T22:00:00.012-04:00

And then Thomas was out of my arms and arching through the air, body twisting and changing shapes, even as I watched. I gasped in the wonder of it, almost missing the event that had precipitated his change.

Olaf Bannister, shimmered in the light filtering through the door, his image wavering for a moment, before he too, launched himself and instead of cat and man, two full grown jaguars met in the air and toppled to the floor.

Whatever the outcome, the beasts needed space and so I stepped around and out, followed by the writhing mass of male cats that screamed and rolled, biting and tearing at each other.

I could see now, what had happened to Thomas on that night when I found him half-dead on the trail. The sheriff’s clothes were strewn on the floor of my cabin, gun belt and gun as well.

I hesitated. I am a healer. I may be many other things, and discovering new every day. But I am a healer. I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill the shape-shifting sheriff if he was the winner of their combat.

I held the gun in my hand and watched as the two struggled. The cats were of the same size, but Bannister was black as a panther. For a moment, the black cat pinned Thomas to the ground, as he tried to rip his throat out.

I changed my mind. I lifted the gun and aimed it.

Cat Nip Post XXVIII

2009-06-27T23:24:00.002-04:00

I’m not sure what would have happened if the clip-clop of hooves striking the scattered gravel in my yard hadn’t interrupted us. I struggled off of his lap, and peered out the window.

“It’s Olaf Bannister,” I warned him.

He rose smoothly, handing me the blue dress he’d brought. “Put yourself together, I’ll handle the sheriff until you’re ready.”

I stepped into the shadowed corner and fumbled my way into my clothes. I heard the back door open and close, so I wasn’t surprised when I turned back to an empty room.

When I opened the door to greet my visitor, a black cat streaked around the corner of the cabin and sat by his feet, looking with interest at the sheriff.

"Sheriff Bannister,"I greeted him. "It's very early in the morning for a visit. Is there a problem?"

The sheriff stood uncertainly, and then asked, "May I come in?" At my nod, he pushed past me into my one room, looking around suspiciously. "Paddy says he found you sitting in the middle of the trail the other night. Said it looked like maybe you'd been doctoring something."

I sat on the chair that had recently been occupied by Thomas, and waited for the sheriff to make his point. The black cat promptly took up residence on my lap and sat rumbling interest as he watched the sheriff.

I recognized the purr and realized that Thomas Hunter still guarded me. I was happy to have him there, since Sheriff Bannister seemed very upset.

He looked at the cat on my lap and sneered, "Finally got yourself a familiar I see."

Holding Thomas in my arms I stood and took a step toward the looming sheriff. "If you have a question, sheriff, please ask it."

Olaf Bannister seemed nonplussed as I walked toward him. I felt the cat's muscles ripple and his claws unsheathe. A glance at my new friend showed that he stared at the lawman from unblinking, amber, eyes.

It appeared Thomas Hunter was coiled and ready.

Cat Nip Post XXVII

2009-06-26T10:49:00.008-04:00

I tried to break away from the glance that held mine. Instead, the combination of his heated amber eyes and that mesmerizing purr had me leaning toward his seduction.

I could see in his eyes, the jaguar intended to mate with me. I was startled when I saw both beast and man as each pursued and captured its prey—me—in both my forms.

“No.” The word resounded loudly in the room, although I had only managed a whisper. “I don’t even know your whole name.”

He blinked and straightened on his chair, pulling his face back before his lips brushed mine. “Hunter,” he said, “Thomas Hunter.”

I blinked at his next words. “I’ve traveled a long way to find you. I’ll not leave alone.”

He declared his intentions gruffly, leaving me to mull over his words. “For now,” he agreed, “I will accept your no. But soon, Misery Hess, you’ll walk the night with me.”

His rumbled words promised a future destiny that I would have to consider. Not one to let man or cat, have the last word, I had to respond, “We’ll see.”

Just like that I was plucked out of my chair and found myself cradled on his lap. “For now, I will let you show your independence.”

He growled the words mocking my declaration. Then he dipped his head lower and nuzzled the mark on my neck murmuring his words against my flesh.

“But soon…” he nipped his way up my throat, across my stubborn chin, to claim my lips. “Soon,” he breathed his warning—his promise against my mouth, nibbling until I opened for him.

I realized then that I would have to be very clever to escape the wiles of Mr. Cat.

Cat Nip Post XXVI

2009-06-25T21:56:00.006-04:00

The food was delicious. I amazed myself with the quantity of beef and vegetables that I ate. I kept my questions to myself until the chocolate cake was cut and served.

If he up and left after hearing my words, I wanted to make sure that I’d tasted that dessert. I’d heard tell of chocolate, but I’d never sampled it.

He seemed mighty interested in my reaction when I put that first bite into my mouth. What can I say? The flavor fairly exploded on my tongue, sending a riot of exquisite pleasure through my entire body.
I ate that entire piece and he cut me another, putting it on my plate before picking up his own eating utensils. I know I had a goofy grin on my face when I licked the tines of the fork, savoring every drop of the chocolate.

“I brought you another dress,” he nodded toward the brown package I’d set aside. Two things occurred to me then. I was sitting at the table in my nightgown and robe, and I’d had more gifts in the last two days than in the sum of the rest of my life.

All things considered, I was inclined to look with favor at Mister? “Ahem,” I cleared my voice, “What is it I’m to call you? I can’t name you Mr. Cat.”

“Call me Thomas,” he chuckled. It was a rusty noise echoing the laugh he’d made earlier, as though he intentionally practiced the sound.

I clutched my new dress modestly to my bosom, and nodded my thanks.

“Now, tell me,” I instructed him. I did not ask a direct question because there were too many things unknown.

I did not want to limit any information Thomas might offer by framing a specific question. His eyes continued their amber glow, intensifying as he looked at me. His purring grew louder, and it seemed to me that the temperature in my small cabin grew warmer.

Cat Nip Post XXV

2009-06-24T19:43:00.007-04:00

I turned away from the temptation of his flesh, becoming more interested in the contents of the basket. The brown-wrapped package I set aside. The remaining items were a lavish assortment of food and I spread my only tablecloth in honor of the event.The cake alone, chocolate with chocolate icing, was more of a treat than I’d ever experienced.
But the roasted beef, not one but two slabs, had my mouth watering with need to sample the barely cooked flesh.

I found a second plate in the cupboard, rounded-up a knife and fork, though they didn’t match mine, and only then remembered my manners. “Please join me as I enjoy this lovely meal you’ve provided.”

When he slid his chair up to the table and filled his plate, I waited until his mouth was full of beef before I added, “As soon as we've finished, you can tell me who the sheriff is rustling cattle for, and why they want to kill you.”

He looked up, fork half raised for a second bite, and ordered, "Eat. Shifting takes a lot of energy. You talk too much."

Then he picked up the carving knife and cut a chunk of meat half the size of one of the roasts. He put it on my plate and motioned at it, repeating, "Eat."

I opened my mouth to argue, only to hear the rumble that started deep in his chest, reaching across the table as a command. His eyes changed, became the amber eyes of the big cat, and I closed my mouth with a snap and picked up my fork.

Cat Nip Post XXIV

2009-06-23T18:07:00.015-04:00

“Well,” I fluttered over the food that he’d brought. “There should be enough here to feed both of us.”

He said nothing, picking up one of the two chairs I own to sit it astride. His gaze was fixed on me, and I couldn’t help my nervous reaction to his stare.

“I assume you are going to tell me what this is about?” It was a question, a fair one, or so I thought.

“Not what are you?” His voice was a low growl, as I knew it would be.

“I know all I need to know about what you are. You're a shape-shifting jaguar. It seems you’ve made me one of them too." I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice. I had never felt so right as the moments during the night I'd spent being a cat.

"I'm also a witch, and as you know, a healer. Do you do anything besides change from cat to man?” I thought the question relevant, but wasn't prepared for the loud laughter that poured out of him, nor the sensual line of his neck, as he guffawed at my question.

Cat Nip Post XXIII

2009-06-22T10:29:00.016-04:00

Well, I could huddle in my bed and pretend that nothing extraordinary had just happened to me, or—not. After my initial bout with denial, I pulled a robe over the nightgown I’d donned, and went looking for food.

I was hungry in a way I’d never felt before…a deep, clawing need for…what? I thought about the big cat and shuddered. He was no longer outside my house. I could feel his presence when he lurked near, just as I could feel his absence now.

I was hungry, but except for the honey that I’d received in payment from Paddy, my cupboard was bare. So, when the knock on the back door came, I was sitting at my table, drinking tea. I did not mind having my sparse breakfast interrupted.

An old Indian stood there, basket in hand, waiting patiently for me when I answered the door. “For you,” he thrust the woven carrier into my hands and stepped back, turning even as I called out.

"There better be a dress in there too." He paused without turning. I'd spoken to the back of his head. Suddenly anxious to show my appreciation for the delivery, regardless of its contents, I called to him. “I’m sure you’re hungry too. Won’t you join me?”

He pivoted swiftly on his heel, doing an about face, surprisingly quick for an old man. I carried the basket into my kitchen and set the food on the table. It was heavy, laden with more than the offering of the day before. That was a good thing, since I was hungrier than the day before.My messenger stood, outlined by the rising sun, as it spread daylight behind him. Amber eyes met mine, and I felt a rumble begin in my throat.

He stepped inside, and the glamour or whatever charm he’d spelled to disguise his form, fell away. My breath caught in my chest, leaving me weak, almost suffocating. He was magnificent.

Cat Nip Post XXII

2009-06-20T21:24:00.002-04:00

The bite shocked me, flooding my body with erotic heat. Mate…I heard him as clearly as if he had spoken. He poured waves of love over me and I shuddered under the unfamiliar sensation.

Ironically, that was what brought sense back. My name is Misery Hess and I am a healer. I repeated my one line as if it was a talisman against magic, and maybe it was.

Disgusted, he gripped me by the nape of the neck and dragged me up, shaking me violently as though he needed to get my attention. The force of the motion, cleared the remaining confusion from my brain and my cat glared stubbornly at him.

My name is Misery Hess and I'm a... Before I could finish my incantation, he released his hold on me, roaring a loud scream in the night. I wondered if the rustlers below heard it as I did. Mate.
I walked down the hill side, first on four trembling legs, that changed at some point to two. I knew he stalked behind, but I did not turn lest I give into the wild urge to stay and never be Misery Hess again.

I stumbled naked toward Clarence and my buggy. Once there, and seated, I pulled a blanket I kept in the back around me and urged my horse, "Take me home, Old Man. I don't know what just happened, but I need to be away from here."

The beast paced beside the buggy as I drove furiously away. He guarded me, even though it was he, I fled. I did not feel his absence until Clarence was once again in his stall and I was in my bed.

Cat Nip Post XXI

2009-06-20T20:06:00.014-04:00

Thoughts of rustlers drifted away on the wind. I knew him, every new sinew and muscle in my body was familiar with the cat that stood above. His purring increased, overwhelming my resistance, burying the part of me that was Misery Hess.

He lowered his head and rubbed his muzzle against my furred shoulder, then stepped over my awkward sprawl and flopped down beside me. I flipped to all fours sniffing the air, straining to understand.

My name is Misery Hess and I’m a healer. The words floated through my brain and away. My cat lowered to her belly, and crouched beside the big male, meeting his unblinking gaze.

My name is Misery Hess and I’m a healer. The male cat snorted, and growled, showing white fangs. Then he stood and stalked angrily around me, tail twitching in short, tense jerks. I—she—we--recognized his need to dominate. His verbose rumbling and pacing didn’t frighten us at all.

I felt a smile blossom in the heart of my cat as the male jaguar circled, muscles rippling in the moonlight. Abruptly, as though he’d come to a decision, he rushed me, playfully nipping my shoulder, before he pinned me to the ground.

My cat was no match for his three hundred pounds of brawn. Carefully, he lowered his weight across my back. When I tried to roll away and resist, his teeth closed over the spot where shoulder and neck connect.

Cat Nip Post XX

2009-06-19T16:11:00.014-04:00

And suddenly, I felt the fear that I had not felt before. Instead of the slow descent that had been intended, I ran, panicked as he chased me, his silence now more frightening than the low growl that had been emanating from his throat.

I needed to get to Clarence and my buggy. My feet flew over the rough ground, and I was subconsciously surprised that I didn’t stumble. Then I did fall, but that didn’t stop me. I scrambled on all fours, too frightened to stop, or look at my pursuer.

My muscles, unused to such abuse, screamed as I lurched forward, my awkward gait changing, as a vast awareness of power swept through my mind and body.

Suddenly, I was, as I had been in my dream—jaguar—racing on four legs, muscles rippling with new strength, my senses open and alert to the dangers of the night, and all focused on the big cat that followed behind, fear now transformed into delighted acceptance.

I skidded to a halt so quickly, that I sent a shower of fine rocks spraying outward, throwing noise and debris into the air.

A breeze that I had not noticed before carried the scent of burning cattle hair, and the sound of bawling cows. It also brought me the words of the rustlers as though making a gift of them to me. I ignored the big cat that now stood over me, purring as he approved my new appearance.

His sounds of pleasure/joy—both I suspected—intruded, blocking part of the outlaws’ conversation with Olaf Bannister. I butted the cat, enjoying the feel of his muscled shoulder on a primal level never experienced before. Hush… I mind screamed to get his attention.

Sheriff Banister’s words drifted on the wind. Moving them won’t be easy….must be careful…The big cat shoved, impatiently demanding my attention. I slapped him across the muzzle and admired my paw as it flashed out and made contact.

Tomorrow night were the last words heard from the sheriff before a mighty head-butt sent me tumbling backward with a force that left me sprawled in the dust, belly exposed, and a big cat straddling me.

Cat Nip Post XIX

2009-06-18T21:07:00.003-04:00

The nice thing about being a healer, everyone expects me to be odd and keep strange hours. Clarence, of course, would have preferred, I think, a more traditional mistress, but it wasn’t to be. And so it was that we found ourselves back on the same road that we had already traveled twice in one very long day.

When we reached the sandy area where I’d found the big cat, I turned Clarence and diverged from the well worn path to follow an elusive track through the brush. Without exploring the why of it, I knew where I was going, and I traveled quickly.

When we reached the foothills that led to the bluff in my dreams, I drove Clarence ruthlessly. “Clarence, I will feed you double in the morning. Don’t let up now old man, we have a cat to save.”

I pulled leather atop the rise and left Clarence by a Juniper bush, climbing swiftly up the rocky way to the bluff. He was there, as I’d known he would be. His tail was swishing angrily as he peered down at the tableau below.

It was almost as it had been in my dream, but for one man who had been added. Sheriff Bannister warmed his hands at the fire and spoke to the rustlers as we watched. I could feel the tension coming from the jaguar and he gathered himself, preparing to spring.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. Slowly, eyes glowing with the blood lust from my dream, he turned his head toward me. One insistent word beat at my mind demanding…what? “…Change.”

He butted me with his head, driving me away from the edge of the cliff and down the slope. I half stumbled, trying to keep my footing at his aggressive shoves.

“Change,” he roared in my mind.

Cat Nip Post XVIII

2009-06-18T03:12:00.003-04:00

He invaded my dreams that night. One minute I was in my bed, sleeping; the next moment, I was in the low foot hills surrounding Flat Rock. My night vision had improved, sounds were intensified, and I rolled newly found muscles in my shoulders.

The scent in the air teased my senses. I stretched and I flexed my fingers that had become sharp elongated claws. Testing the strength and capabilities of my new body, I crawled across the ground.

I heard the familiar chuffing sound and then he was beside me, belly crawling toward the edge of the ledge, as I was. The heat from his body scalded me and his purring, attempted to lure me from my goal.

I snarled at him, even took a swipe at his too close shoulder. It was important that I see below.

Two men squatted beside a fire, a branding iron heated in its coals. Fifteen or so cows milled restlessly close by. The cat in me recognized how easy this prey had been offered up. My claws slid deeper into the gravel underneath, preparing to spring.

I don’t know whether it was one of the men I intended to devour, or one of the cattle. My mind was a red haze of blood lust. The jaguar screamed a warning to those below and knocked me on my side. I rolled and fell.

I was on the floor of my shack, wrapped in my blanket…still me, Misery Hess. I rubbed my hands across my arms just to make sure that there was no fur there. It had been so real I felt like I needed to get up fast before I fell back into the dream.

Cat Nip Post XVII

2009-06-16T21:57:00.003-04:00

I had an incredible urge to sink my fingers into that magnificent coat. Or, worse, lay my cheek against the powerful shoulder. The purr seemed to intensify, until that was the only thing in the world I heard. I shuddered, grasping for control.

“You’re stealing my will, or trying, aren’t you Mister Cat?” So the cat wanted to play?

My life is fairly lonely. It’s not something I dwell on, but the closest friend I have is Clarence, so an offer of friendship from this big cat didn’t seem too far-fetched or unwanted. Tentatively, I reached a hand to touch.

I froze in mid air. What did I want to feel—the brow, the neck, the belly? I looked darkly at him, and dropped my hand.

“Almost had me, didn’t you?” I stood up and brushed my new dress off disgustedly. And then as an afterthought I murmured, “Oh, and thanks for the clothes.”

It was his turn to stand mesmerized. I don’t usually have that affect on males of any species, so his attention got mine.

I headed back to my buggy. Clarence twitched his ears at me, as if to say, get a move on Missy, but he didn’t seem overly alarmed at the big cat that accompanied me to my conveyance.

I climbed in and took up my reins, prepared to leave. Before I urged Clarence toward home, I leaned down and murmured advice to the cat.

“The sheriff was at my house today asking about a marauding cat that’s killing livestock. If it’s you, quit. He said it had been shot.”

The cat stood, shoulder level with the seat of the buggy, one ear cocked, listening. I wanted to smack his nose. Instead I grasped his jaw with both hands and stared straight into hypnotic amber eyes.

“I missed the bullet last night, so today I could tell the sheriff the truth—I didn’t treat a cat for bullet wounds. I won’t lie if he asks again.” I dropped my hand, took up the reins and drove Clarence toward my shack, trotting homeward at a fast clip.

Cat Nip Post XVI

2009-06-15T21:58:00.007-04:00

The leg was still tender, with a line of red marking what should have been a fading scar.

“Oops, better let me work on that," I told him as he purred, rumbling a deep resonating chest sound, loud in the night. “Roll over on your back. I need to check your belly. I don’t know how you found me last night, but I’m glad I could be of service.”

He shifted under my hands as needed, so that I could probe the stomach wound which had healed without issue.

The leg, though, that was a different story. I looked closer and saw the problem. I had missed an important part of the big cat’s injury the night before. He’d been shot. When I popped the bullet out of the hip, I was surprised it had caused that much discomfort.

It was really just a flesh wound, no more than a pebble under the skin. The slug fell to the ground, and I concentrated my healing efforts on the hip, drawing the pain and infection out, letting the positive healing power flow in.

I was tired but satisfied that I’d gotten everything this time and I slumped back on my hands. A sharp burn startled me. I thought at first I’d leaned on a snake. But on inspection, my hand had touched the bullet I’d removed from the cat’s hip. It was silver.

I took my handkerchief from my pocket, and much like earlier in the day, I gathered the bullet to look at later. It nestled next to the tuft of fur. The original coat purred loudly in front of me.

2009-06-15T08:11:00.003-04:00

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Cat Nip Post XV

2009-06-14T19:12:00.015-04:00

It was early evening when Misery started back. Not as late, certainly as the night before, but late enough that Clarence was picking up his feet smartly, anxious to get home to his stall in the shed beside the chicken coop.

She wasn't sure when her conscious mind admitted that she was being stalked. Maybe, stalked wasn't the right word…the animal was running parallel to the trail, not bothering to keep hidden or pretend fear.

It was the jaguar from the night before. Misery didn’t look at him directly, keeping her eyes riveted between the ears of her horse. See no evil.Then he disappeared and she felt enormous relief at having avoided another meeting with the wild cat. She was soon to be disappointed.

He prowled onto their path, muscles rippling, head turned to stare at driver and horse, as they barreled down on him. The cat sat in the middle of the trail and snarled loud enough to halt Clarence in his tracks.

Having gotten their attention, the jaguar sat in the middle of the path and yawned, showing Misery his teeth that gleamed whitely in the darkening night. His eyes were amber colored, and glowing. She shivered. “What do you want?”

Misery knew that speaking to a wild animal as if he could understand, was irrational behavior. Nevertheless, that’s what she did. The cat made a chuffing sound, and dropped down on all fours, rolling to his side, inviting her, she thought, to do a follow up exam.

Cat Nip Post XIV

2009-06-13T21:55:00.006-04:00

Misery intended to follow the trail while it was still fresh, but Clarence snorted and did the nervous dance he used to alert her that company was coming. Before she stood, she hastily pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gathered the hair fiber.

She was leaning over Clarence, checking his hoof when the sheriff rode up to her buggy. “Got trouble?”

This would have been the perfect time to tell the law about the cat she’d treated the night before. Misery didn’t.

“No, sheriff, I was on my way to check on Myrtle and her new baby when Clarence seemed to be favoring his front leg.” The sheriff’s hand dropped uneasily to his own leg, and Misery wondered what that was about.

“So, you did your magic hoodoo on the leg and it’s all better now?” His tone was derisive and she was glad she’d done no magic hoodoo on Olaf Bannister's leg.

“I guess we’ll see,” she said, running her hands up Clarence’s flank before she moved to his tail, patted his rump, and then climbed back into the buggy.

Without further conversation, Misery shook out the reins, politely nodded her head good-day and trotted her horse toward Paddy’s place.

Cat Nip Part XIII

2009-06-12T23:13:00.013-04:00

I dropped the hair sample and scrambled backward, putting distance between me and all that power. I was an untrained healer with no information about strange occurrences other than what I had learned in my own short life. I stared at the tuft of hair, not capable of leaving it behind, and unwilling to touch it again.

I’d heard it said about my mother, before I ran away, that she was a round-heeled woman who would fuck the devil if he asked. Some, like my step-father, had looked at me and my odd ways, and declared that the devil had asked.

It seemed as though an abnormal part of me that had been slumbering, was awakened by the aroma from that tuft of hair. My skin itched, as prickles of awareness skittered from the soles of my feet to the tips of my ears. My breath changed to short pants, my back arched, my fingernails scraped the ground that I clutched, and I had the incredible urge to scream, or yowl, or hiss—very loudly.

I shook off the strange reaction and pulled my attention back to why I’d revisited this spot. I could see the scrape marks covered in blood and bits of fur—obvious testimony to the existence of the big cat I’d saved. It looked like the cat had dragged itself a long distance to get to the trail I’d traveled the night before.

I don’t believe in fortuitous coincidence so I immediately pondered a deeper possibility. The cat knew I could heal it and had lain in wait for my passing. It sounded pretty incredible put like that.

Cat Nip Part XII

2009-06-11T21:02:00.005-04:00

I’m not much for taking other people’s word for anything, so after I polished off the basket of food Ivers had delivered, I decided to do some investigating. I looked dumbly at the pile of chicken bones on my plate, and the empty tub of potatoes. I’d eaten wings, thighs, and breast, three rolls and even the butter that he’d packed.

The odd thing was I felt like I could eat more. Still, pleasantly full, almost purring with contentment that was unearned, I loosed the curious side of my nature.

Clarence was just as leery of stopping on the road in the daylight, as he had been the night before. I insisted, climbing down from the buggy with alacrity now that I was here.

The place that the cat had laid was scuffed, and drops of blood dotted the landscape. I crouched next to the show on the ground, and lifted a tuft of hair from sage brush where it had caught.

I smelled it. I don’t know why. It just seemed like another piece of information, the scent, so to speak. I didn’t really think that the aroma of cat would cling that long, or that I’d smell it if it did.

I was wrong. The scent nearly knocked me on my rump. And not in a bad way either. My body’s response was immediate. My breath caught and my lungs froze at the same time that cold chills were followed by hot waves of sensation never experienced before.

Cat Nip~Part XI

2009-06-10T19:38:00.006-04:00

A picture of the big cat Misery had healed, flashed through her mind and she unconsciously stroked the bite on her neck. There was a small raised area where his teeth had sunk deep, but nothing more. When she touched the spot, it itched, igniting strange fires throughout her body.

Misery, lived in the country for two reasons--she was never wanted in town—needed sometimes, but wanted, never. Two, she didn't care for socializing; anymore than one person at a time was too many.

She was not pleased to find that traffic had picked up at her place. Usually when she heard a buggy in front of her house, she expected sickness or hurt.

This time, Misery knew before opening the door that she was receiving another payment. She answered the knocking to greet Old man Ivers, the town’s only restaurant owner. He stood with a basket of food, ready to shove it into her hands.

“What is it?” she asked, because he held the basket in front of him like it contained snakes.

“Order for this, and money to pay, was shoved under my shop door this morning. I’m just getting around to delivering.” He stepped closer, suddenly not so in a hurry to leave. “You look different.”

Misery didn't recall ever having a conversation with Mr. Ivers in her life. She knew him by sight, as he did her. He was the owner of the Cat’s Eye Diner, she was the local witch.

“Not really, I’m sure.” Misery backed away as he made a hesitant step toward her. The dress that had been delivered earlier by the amorous sheriff, settled protectively over her hips, and she felt a curious rumble begin in her throat.

Mr. Ivers must have heard the noise, because he blanched and backed up. She was glad that he was leaving, if not a little startled, by his hurry.

Misery held the basket and watched as he slapped the leathers across his poor horse’s rump, urging the animal into a lope instead of a sedate trot, like—well—like he was running away from something.

Cat Nip~ Part X

2009-06-09T21:13:00.008-04:00

He stepped off the porch and winced as he limped toward Misery. “What’s wrong with your leg,” she queried. She didn’t offer to heal him. For some reason, bile rose in her throat at the thought of laying hands on Olag Bannister.

“Twisted it chasing a belligerent cowpoke who needed to sleep a drunk off. Damn leg just keeps acting up. Maybe…” Misery was shaking her head before he could ask and backing toward her slab of porch just as fast.

“Oh, almost forgot,” he reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a brown wrapped package. “This was left for you at the general store. I said I’d deliver it since I was coming your way.”

Misery caught the package out of the air and said thank you when he tossed it, still determined to wait outside until the man departed. No way did she want to be cornered by a randy lothario in a closed space she might not be able to escape.

He mounted his horse, tipped his head, silently saying good-bye, and rode off toward town. Misery stood outside watching until he disappeared from sight. Only then did she look with curiosity at the package in her hands.

She sank down on the step and tore the brown wrapper aside. Gifts were uncommon occurrences in her life and usually amounted to a jar of honey or a jug of spirits in payment for services rendered.

But this was different.She knew what it was before she finished tearing the paper free. It was blue. The prettiest dress she'd ever owned. Actually, it was the first store-bought dress Misery had ever laid hands on.

Cat Nip~Part IX

2009-06-08T21:17:00.003-04:00

“Ben got off a shot. Says he winged the cat. I thought you might have crossed trails with it while you were out helping Myrtle.”

This was the moment I should have told him about the jaguar I’d healed. But, I didn’t. Instead, I shrugged his question away and answered honestly, “No gunshot wounded cats have sought my aid today or yesterday. I’ll be sure and let you know if one does.”

The sheriff took another slow moment to look around inspecting my habitat closely. “Kind of isolated out here aren’t you?”

I could hear the change in his voice. It occurred to me that Sheriff Olag Bannister was getting ready to make an improper advance—one I had no interest in receiving. His usual bland expression had darkened and his eyes seemed feral as he looked at me with hunger.

“I’m busy today, sheriff. I’ve no time to chat with you about animals that are likely dead and gone by now.” I stepped toward the door, intent on getting him out of my space. The hair on the back of my neck lifted and I smelled danger in the air.

He reached for me, but I avoided his grasp and stepped outside, walking quickly to where he’d left his horse. I stood there expectantly waiting for him to follow. When he stepped into the afternoon sun, I wondered what had spooked me so much. It was just the sheriff doing his duty, talking to all citizens about a wild animal attack.

Intimate Strangers Joyfully Reviewed

2009-06-07T23:21:00.000-04:00

Source: Joyfully Reviewed

..."Talk about an emotional roller coaster ride. Intimate Strangers is full of emotions and past hurts and scattered feelings. Lucy’s trauma was so real that I ached for her...

Intimate Strangers grabs you by the heart and reels you in... I couldn’t put it down...

Gem Sivad... has written an enchanting novel." Reviewer~Talia Ricci

Part VIII~ Cat Nip

2009-06-07T23:19:00.002-04:00

I might have stayed longer in the hen house, staring at my healed wound, if a pounding on my front door hadn’t interrupted me.Bad news usually accompanies such a commotion, so I hurried into my shack through the backdoor, grabbing a towel to wipe my hands before answering the caller at the front. Instead of the usual homesteader or sick townsman, the sheriff stood there.

He started talking before I threw the door wide. “Good to see you, Missy. Had some trouble last night and knew you’d been out to Paddy’s place. Good job delivering Myrtle’s baby, by the way.” He stopped to draw breath and I eased the door wider, inviting him into my one room of living space.

For all of his jovial façade, he looked around uneasily checking, I was certain, for a cauldron and spell book. He’d been near several times when others had whispered witch, loud enough for me to hear. He’d not taken action to defend me then, so I understood that he was desperate or he wouldn’t be here now.

He wasn’t a reticent man usually, so I wondered at what had caused it now. He shuffled from one foot to the other and then, as if remembering why he’d come, said, “Big cat attacked Ben Casey’s corralled horses last night. Brought down one and dragged it away.”

The paucity of my personal possessions seemed to reassure him in some unfathomable way and he finally got to the point. “Wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

“Sheriff Bannister,” I laughed at him. “Did you think I stole Ben’s horse and ate it?” I was joking but he frowned as though considering that possibility.

PART VII~Cat Nip

2009-06-06T23:22:00.010-04:00

I must have been more exhausted than I’d known, because when I rolled out the next day, morning was gone and afternoon had already begun. I lay in my bed for a minute trying to adjust to—something different. Even though I wasn’t sure what or why, I knew things had changed overnight.

My contemplations could be handled just as easily while feeding my neglected horse and chickens, so I dragged my butt out of bed and dressed.

On the way through the kitchen I grabbed up my usual apple from widow McVey’s tree, but I guess being afternoon, my stomach wasn’t ready to settle for so little. It growled hungrily, and I took that as a sign that I needed to visit the general store in town. Except for eggs, I didn’t have much on hand to eat.

I gave Clarence his scoop of grain. He hadn’t settled down since the cat incident the previous night.

“Whoa up there boy,” I looked for injuries that I might have overlooked in my tiredness but found none. He trembled and flinched under my hands but calmed a little as I groomed him.

The chickens were even worse. You’d think I’d brought a polecat into the coop with me. The fluttering and carrying-on that they did was silly. My number one layer, Claudine, that usually gave me a nice plump brown egg, pecked my hand when I reached into her nest. Then she used her sharp talon to rake my arm when I filched the egg and retreated.

More astonishing, the red scratch oozing the blood that immediately appeared, almost as quickly, began to heal, zipping closed until even the white scrape was nothing but a memory.

Cat Nip ~ Part VI

2009-06-05T23:58:00.005-04:00

Anyway, we glared at each other for awhile and then Clarence interrupted our staring match, shaking his head and snorting loud enough to let me know we had company coming.

The cat stood up and butted me once more with his head, just to prove he could, I guess. Then, he turned and disappeared through the brush and into the night.

John Patrick rode his horse up to the buggy and dismounted to help me. “What the hell are you doing sitting in the middle of the road?” the big bluff Irishman asked. And then as if any answer I gave him wouldn’t be worth listening to, he hauled me up and set me on the seat of my buggy.

“Myrtle sent me to see you home,” he glowered at me. Clearly he would rather not have obeyed his little wife, but there was a powerful love between them and when she told Paddy to do something, he minded her.

I shivered, still feeling the power of the cat and pretty sure it was close by watching us. It might spare me, but I doubted that Paddy would be as fortunate.

“Go on back to Myrtle, Paddy, and be sure to keep her warm. Feed her some of that soup I brought with me, nothing heavier for a while. I’ll see myself home.”

He was relieved to be free of his duty to me, and hurriedly turned his horse back to the cabin where a new son awaited. He paused only long enough to see me gather my reins and start Clarence on the journey toward my shack.

Cat Nip ~ Part V

2009-06-04T21:05:00.021-04:00

Mercy had never been a cat-lover and didn’t know till then, that cats of all sizes made that humming sound signifying pleasure.

The beast was well pleased to be alive and looked her over carefully, trying to decide, she guessed, whether to grant her the same privilege. Before she could protest or skitter backwards and away, his tongue lapped a place on her neck, and then he bit her.

His tooth caught on the fabric of her dress leaving it torn at the neck where he’d ripped the material. She was more upset about that, than the pain. Dresses were hard to come by and she didn’t have so many that she could afford to lose one to an ungrateful cat.

Prudent or not, she swatted at him saying, “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve torn my dress.”

The cat sat on his haunches staring at her for awhile, and since he wasn’t going anywhere, apparently neither was she, so she put her hand over the bite.

Misery was surprised at how little a mark was there, since she'd felt the teeth puncture the flesh of her shoulder and neck. The wound wasn’t bleeding and closed rapidly beneath her touch. At least that part of things went right, since usually she couldn't heal herself.

Cat Nip~Part IV

2009-06-03T17:58:00.012-04:00

The force of his movement knocked Misery on her fanny in the middle of the dust, and she could do no more than lean on her arms, waiting to be eaten.

She wouldn’t have shot him, even if she had owned or carried a gun, because she didn't kill things.She was a healer, she couldn't.

He was quite beautiful standing there sniffing the air, like he was trying to figure out who or what she was.

“Good luck to that, Mister Cat,” Misery laughed up at him as he lorded himself above her. “I’ve had twelve years since my stepdad tried to beat the devil out of me, to ponder just that question.”

He stalked over to where she lay vulnerable and ready, like a tasty dish prepared just for him. Misery knew it was male—cat or man there was no mistaking the need to dominate that God’s He-Creatures radiated.

She didn’t even put up a fuss when the jaguar butted her with his head. She sprawled back, staring up at the feline, fascinated instead of frightened.

Evidently he wasn’t going to kill her, at least not right away. She was surprised though, when he sniffed her again and then began to purr.

Cat Nip~ Part III (Switching POV)

2009-06-02T23:16:00.009-04:00

Misery, looked at the big cat and felt the first shudder of surprise or pain—she wasnt'sure which because talking to the recipients of her gift wasn't part of her talent.

"I just help you get well, Mister Cat, the rest is up to you." He lay quiet under her hands. She couldn’t help noticing how soft the animal’s fur was as she drew out the malignant force of its wounds and the accompanying infection that had already set in.

The healer worked there a long time, not willing to give up on the cat. He was magnificent, even torn up as he was. As she ran her hands over the silken coat of gold, decorated by black spots, Misery estimated that he’d weigh at least 300 pounds. Cougars were common in the Texas territory, but she’d never seen this species before even though she’d heard tell of the animal—jaguar.

She was already tired from delivering Myrtle’s baby and keeping her from bleeding to death, so she wasn’t as careful as she should have been. Once the wounds had closed, and the foreleg had straightened, the cat rolled over and came to its feet, standing huge in the night, looking at her out of amber eyes that glowed in the dark.

Cat Nip~Part II

2009-06-01T11:47:00.006-04:00

I was unfamiliar with the kind of cat that lay near death, on its side beside the path. The ligaments in its left front leg were ripped so that it wasn’t going anywhere and its belly had been sliced open. It lay with some of its entrails pulled to the outside.

The cat's breath heaved in and out so that I could see its life force floating away, along with the blood that seeped into the sandy ground. If it hadn’t been for the sound that I’d heard, I’d have never seen it lying there, so shadowed was it.

I wondered at that, because when I knelt by the beast, although silent, its feral golden eyes watched me.

“You’ve definitely hurt yourself this time, Mister,” I crooned to him. He raised his head ready to tear into me if I touched him.

Well, I was used to that, too. Plenty of my success stories have caused me a mite of pain. Anyway, fool that I was, I squatted beside the creature and laid my hands on him, after first tucking his intestines back into his belly.

When I say that, I know it sounds pretentious, but that’s what I do—I lay hands on things and they get better. I’m a healer—a witch some call me. I prefer to think that I’m a creature of God imbued with the power to make things improved.

Cat Nip

2009-05-31T20:54:00.024-04:00

Part I
The night I delivered Myrtle Patrick’s baby was the week of the full moon. I was driving my buggy back to the edge of town where my house sits, when I thought I heard an animal whimpering in pain. My horse, Clarence, had a fit, stepping all over the path, indicating that he’d prefer to run from whatever was out there.

“Settle down, old man,” I soothed him. He shook his head as if to disagree, but calmed enough for me to listen more closely.

Since I’ve never been accused of having an excess of common sense, I pulled up and hopped off the buggy-seat to see what was beside the trail.

Clarence snorted loudly to let me know his sentiments about my intent. But I ignored his advice, just as I’d ignored every other piece of male advice I’d been given, since I’d run away on my tenth birthday after my stepdad beat me black and blue.

Granted, in this instance, Clarence was right. The sound was coming from a big cat that had been chewed up pretty badly by something. I didn’t want to think about what was big and nasty enough to hurt a predator of that size, so I concentrated on easing the animal’s pain by attempting a healing.

I am determined~

2009-05-09T06:44:00.003-04:00

The first year with the Lancasters, I waited impatiently for my sister Comfort to send for me. One letter~ she sent me one letter that year. She wrote about her life with Owen Bailey on a Texas ranch called the Circle S where Owen was a ranch hand. She said that she didn't have a place for me yet.

I had an uneasy feeling that Comfort's life wasn't turning out the way she'd hoped. I was determined to find a way to join her some day in Texas.

Harvey Collins gets run out of the county~

2009-05-06T20:47:00.007-04:00

The Lancaster's were so old they'd started to look like each other, except Ma Lancaster didn't chew and spit, so her face was devoid of tobacco juice. They had a house, not much bigger than my shack, but it was kept up, and clean.

Pa Lancaster shook his head when I came bustin' to their door that night. I didn't know till later that he'd gotten up the next day, and he and the sheriff had run Harvey out of the county.

I stayed with the Lancasters first because they made me welcome. I stayed longer because they made me feel safe. Finally, I was just family and they needed me. But I didn't quit worryin' about Comfort all the way gone in Texas. I figured on finding her some day.

I continued to read Godey's of an evening, giving the Lancasters great hopes for my future as a lady.

Life with the Lancasters

2009-05-05T22:08:00.004-04:00

Well, living with the Lancasters turned out to be all right. They were already old when I moved in with them. But, like Comfort had predicted, they grabbed onto me like a hen with one chick, and did some spoiling I allowed.

Mrs. Lancaster~she wanted me to call her Ma~ and so I did. It made her happy and I couldn't remember my own, so it seemed like a good deal for both of us. Pa Lancaster wasn't so easy to get used to.

I started my list of WANT-NOTS the first day under the Lancaster roof.
Things that I want not in a man:
1. Must not chew tobacco. (Mr. Lancaster spit frequently, and due to weak projection usually dribbled brown goo on his chin. I stared at it a lot.

Ma Lancaster couldn't read, but she looked at the pictures reverently in my Godey's Lady's Book and would sit of an evening as I read to her from it.

"A lady is to move slowly and gracefully and never swing her arms when she walks."

I created a monster. Mrs. Lancaster took my comfortable pants from me and sewed up some dresses instead. She was determined to mold me into a Godey's Lady.

It didn't work out me living alone~

2009-05-04T20:56:00.004-04:00

I told myself I was glad that Comfort was gone and I didn't have to listen to her preaching about deportment, cleanliness, and proper speech. The first week, I lived the life of a gypsy, out all day, fishing, and in at dark, bedding down in my own place.

By the second week, I was pretty tired of fish, and thinking about doing some hunting when my life took yet another turn.

Harvey Collins, the lecherous owner of a junk wagon that he called his Travelling Wagon of Interesting Items, passed me at the creek where I fished, and then doubled back to check on me again.

I knew better than to get complacent, and barricaded my door that night. According to gossip, Harvey had a reputation for pestering girls or worse. When I had asked Comfort what or worse meant, she'd rolled her eyes and said, "when you're older you'll understand."

I was reminded of that when he burst through my barricade that night, worse on his mind.

I clipped him with the clay pitcher I kept by the bed and ran all the way to the Lancasters.

It wasn't that hard to introduce myself to them after all.

I don't follow orders well~

2009-05-03T13:47:00.014-04:00

On the day when Comfort left, as I walked down the dusty path that led to the Lancaster place, I got less inclined to stay with them the closer I came to arriving.

They were an older, childless, couple which was probably why Comfort thought they might want me. I thought maybe they were childless because they liked it that way, and I didn't feel inclined to find out the right of it.

Anyway, I figured that Comfort had given away say-so in my life, and I decided not to move in with the Lancasters or anyone else unless I had to. After I made up my mind about that, I spent the day fishing, and went home to our place, (I mean my place) that night.

Hello, my name is Naomi Parker.

2009-05-02T11:01:00.010-04:00

Alabama ~1866

“You’ll be all right with the Lancaster family until I can send for you.” My sister called the words to me as I watched from my hidey-hole. Comfort shifted from one leg to another,ready to leave, resenting repeated explanations and partings.

“Go on,” I told her. It was easy to see that her mind was made up.

“Oh, Naomi, come out here and say goodbye, properly. Mr. Bailey bought me these new clothes and I want to show you. Things will be fine."

She didn't believe that, I could hear the doubt in her voice. "Naomi," she stamped her new boot and crouched down, peering under the rotted wood. " You can’t keep hiding under the porch. It’s not going to make this stop being.”

Maybe not, but my crawlspace under the rotten flooring offered dark protection from things I had no control over. “I don’t need to come out to see your back turn while you walk away. Go on.”

“All right then, I will.” Comfort’s voice was filled with anxiety that I could have assuaged if I had seen fit. She was marrying and leaving me behind with the neighbors. I didn’t feel like making her feel better.

I guess I didn’t really expect her to leave me there. She never had before and we’d been though some pretty rough moments.

But she called a parting remark and then I heard her erstwhile swain grumbling and knew she wasn’t alone. “I’m telling you, I don’t have time or money to take some half grown girl along with us. She’s better off here. We’ll send for her when we get settled.”

I didn’t like Owen Bailey. He wasn’t worthy of my sister, Comfort Parker. Comfort had a major disadvantage in our world—she was beautiful and poor. Even rich, handsome, women fell prey to unsavory men now that the natural order of the south had been disrupted.

But a poor, good-looking female was facing a lot of possibilities, none of them pleasant.So having Owen Bailey, a sergeant in the Union Army,tender a legitimate proposal to a rag-tag share-cropper’s daughter was too good a chance for Comfort to pass by.

I knew that—but I didn’t want to be left behind. I wanted to run begging after them. I would have but before I wiggled from my hiding spot, I heard the sounds of the horse they both rode, fading into the sounds of morning.

My only family was gone. I sat on the porch-step for a long time listening to the bullfrogs and crickets and with the accompanying cacophony of swamp music behind me, I practiced saying my introduction to the Lancaster family.

My name is Naomi Parker. I’m your next door neighbor—if you could call our place neighborly. I looked around at the rotting timber and creaky door that had to be propped closed from the inside. I pretend held out my hand.

My sister said in an emergency, I’m to run to the neighbors. I reckon…I stopped and corrected my words. Comfort was strict about my speech habits. She said that we are known by our first impression, whatever that means. I started over.

Hello, my sister has been called away on an emergency. She directed me to come here until she returns. I stopped and thought about that for a moment then held out my hand and started again. My name is Naomi Parker and I’m eleven years old.

There wasn’t any sense in putting off the inevitable. I gathered up the two things Comfort had left me, her brush and comb set, and her copy of Godey’s Lady’s Book. I scuffed my bare feet against the dirt path trying to slow down the journey. Until I reached the Lancaster place, I could pretend that Comfort would be back in a minute, and I was not alone.

Becky is a Winner.

2009-04-23T08:17:00.004-04:00

Well we knew that *grin* but now she's a winner wearing a Gem Sivad hat.
Thanks for visiting everyone.

(Soon I'll have a link on my webpage set up so that you can own a Gem Sivad hat too.)

Mother Earth's Bounty

2009-04-22T00:17:00.005-04:00

Hi! Welcome to Gem’s Place. Slow down, catch your breath, relax a minute. You just came from LSB author, Alanna Coca's blogspot~ http://alannacocaauthor.blogspot.com

So what's with the hat? In honor of Earth Day, win a Gem Sivad hat by posting the best comment at the end of this blog. Best comment wins, well~ a hat.

Oh, and if you want a copy of Intimate Strangers click the button at the side and it will carry you to the LSB store front. You can buy it there for $6.10 and it's worth every penny.

If you loved my western romance about Ambrose and Lucy Quince, you're sure to enjoy my WIP, Wolf's Tender, the story of Charlie Wolf McCallister, who gets more than he expects when school teacher, Naomi Parker tenders her body, in a devil's bargain.

If you're just catching up with us, we started this tour at the blog of LSB author Nina Pierce.
http://www.ninapierce.com/romanceblog

You'll be visiting next, LSB author, Serena Shay~ http://serenashay.blogspot.com.

Save A Tree, Buy an E-Book! It's good for Mother Earth....

MOTHER EARTH'S BOUNTY:

WATER

FIRE

WIND

EARTH

Sand Creek

2009-04-20T19:58:00.018-04:00

Gray Wolf joined with Black Kettle in 1864. We rode to meet with the U.S. Cavalry to negotiate a treaty between white settlers and the Kiowa, Apache, Comanche,and Arapaho nations.

We were camped on the banks of Sand Creek in the Colorado Territory. My mother waited with the other women and children while my father and I rode with Black Kettle and the other warriors to meet the Army Captain. I remember I was puffed up with pride that my father treated me like a man that day.

When no white man's army waited at the appointed place, my father motioned for me to follow and we hastened back to Sand Creek.

The sound of guns, and smoke in the sky, greeted us before we arrived at the temporary camp.

I don't know how he found her. There were bodies of women and children scattered thickly over the blood covered ground. Later it was said that over 300 innocents were slaughtered. White soldiers rode among the living, and cut them down where they stood.

Gray Wolf pulled his horse to a stop amidst the carnage, and stiffened as though listening. Then he rode into the melee, killing every soldier in his path.

I had never taken a life before that day, but killed my first white man with a thrown tomahawk as he hunched over my girl-cousin and shamed her.

Then I kicked my horse back into the raging battle in time to see my father reach down and scoop my mother up in front of him. A thrown bayonet speared Gray Wolf through the shoulder as we rode away.

He carried my mother to safety spilling his life's blood as we travelled. We climbed high into the mountains before he allowed us to stop. My mother held him to her when he slid to the ground.

I hurried to build a fire, regardless of the possibility of followers.
My mother tried to stop the blood, tried to keep him with us, as she frantically tended the wound. He held her in his arms and comforted her even as his spirit fought to be free. Before he died at dawn, my father ordered me.
"Return your mother to her people."

Tracker~

2009-04-18T10:26:00.005-04:00

I learned the way of the wolf, the coyote, the eagle. My father showed me the trail and taught me to follow the scent and track of my prey.

He took me into the mountains so that I might know my spirit guide.

I rode with my father's people~

2009-04-17T07:24:00.005-04:00

My mother and I lived with Gray Wolf and sometimes with other Kiowas who refused to go to the white man's reservation.

I rode with him until I was fourteen.

Charlie Wolf McCallister

2009-04-14T16:35:00.013-04:00

My name is Charlie Wolf McCallister. In 1849,when my mother,Rachel McCallister was 16, she was kidnapped by my father, a Kiowa renegade named Gray Wolf.I am the product of that union.

She Liked It! She Really, Really, Liked It!!

2009-04-11T21:27:00.005-04:00

Reviewer: Mrs. Giggles
Title: Intimate Strangers
By Gem Sivad (historical)
I love it when I am surprised by an author new to me, and this surprisingly very good historical romance knocks me off my feet and has me go, "Wow! Who is this person again?"

Rating: 89
Review site: Mrs. Giggles Reviews
http://www.mrsgiggles.com/ebooks/sivad_intimate.html

And the first reviews are in~

2009-04-03T20:43:00.005-04:00

Paranormal author Trina M. Lee~ Once Bitten says of Intimate Strangers ~

It was sooo good I don't know where to start. You really write as if you lived in that era. So authentic and smooth. And the children were so real to me... I really grew to love them, especially Brody...please tell me you plan to take us back to Eclipse some time in the future?
__________________

Paranormal author Hailey Edwards~ Born of Fire and From the Ashes has this to say~

Every word on every page kept you locked in that time period and in that place... I like Gem's style. Her portrayal of these characters and their situation is so realistic that I was able to enjoy myself even without wings, fangs, or fur...
__________________

Comments Please~

2009-04-02T06:38:00.002-04:00

I think the worst part about the compulsion of writing is a silent reception. I'd rather have an honest, "wow, i couldn't get past the third chapter, you lost me"...than dead silence. Especially, if there's some suggestion of what happened in the third chapter that threw up a road block.

Feedback is food for thought, literally.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAVANNA KOUGAR

2009-03-27T09:59:00.003-04:00

Intimate Strangers Release~ March 30th

2009-03-19T14:25:00.008-04:00

Folks tell me my name is Lucy Quince. They found me outside of Eclipse, Texas in the rough desert country where I'd been left to die. I just want to tell my attackers~I'm coming after you.

Intimate Strangers~

2009-03-19T14:20:00.001-04:00

She forgot her husband, her children, her home...but her body remembered desire...

I met Ambrose Quince today...

2009-02-17T19:13:00.002-05:00

May 20, 1866

Father and I met an interesting man today. His name is Ambrose Quince. We were in the bank, speaking to the Eclipse Bank President, Stephen Pauley, when Mr. Quince introduced himself. I was flattered to have the attentions of two men. I am practicing my coquetry.

Papa says he believes Mr. Quince has taken a fancy to me.

I would never marry someone from here, not even a man like Mr. Pauley who resembles the men in Boston. I want to go home. Besides, Mr. Quince is much older than I am. He must be at least 25.

We arrive in Texas today.

2009-02-16T20:51:00.006-05:00

May 14, 1866
It’s already May. We are arriving in Eclipse, Texas tomorrow. The train was uncomfortable, the stage coach barbaric. I must remember not to think things can’t get worse~ each time I do, fate proves me wrong.

May 16, 1866
This place is so different than Boston. There are no green lawns, or graceful houses. Everything is red dirt and wind. I hate it already.
How can father think of moving us here?

AND WE HAVE A WINNER

2009-02-15T16:58:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was great. I loved the comments all my guests left. I put the names in a hat and pulled out: angst-fairy@livejournal.com.

Angst-fairy has won a free download of my prequel, The Journal of Lucy Quince. It follows Lucy's journey from girl to womanhood as her sensual awareness evolves.

For the rest of you,a new installment of Lucy's diary will be posted each day until a week before Intimate Strangers' release.

That week, I'll make the entire Journal available as a free download for those of you who followed the story. Then you can reaquaint yourself with Lucy and Ambrose and get ready to revisit Eclipse, Texas.

The Very Thought of You~

2009-02-13T17:04:00.009-05:00

I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love ...

I do love a cowboy ~

2009-02-09T18:14:00.002-05:00

Quincy's ranch hands are very friendly~

2009-02-09T16:29:00.004-05:00

Public Social in Eclipse [the end of the world] Texas, 1878

2009-02-05T05:42:00.010-05:00

Ambrose took me to a social last night in Eclipse but then he stood at the edge of the dance floor and glared at every man I danced with. My husband is sometimes rude in his behavior. (Huh, i lie. My husband is always rude in his behavior.)

I asked him,"Why bring me to town to a party and then be mad at me for having fun?" (He says I flirted with every man there. Maybe I did--maybe i wanted to see if Quincy still cares.)

Even the dance caller was wonderful...I'm glad I danced every dance, it wore me out. I used that excuse in the buggy on the way home. I pretended to fall asleep when Ambrose started fussing at me.

Yet another reason for Quincy to be mad at me...

2009-02-04T10:24:00.009-05:00

I've purchased some of the finest Morgan bloodstock my father's money can buy. He would be so proud of me. I conducted the business myself, and then I told Quincy afterward.

Ambrose made love to me, made me burn for him--then said he wanted me to give up the horse breeding plan. He always tries to seduce me to make me mind him like a child. This time he won't win.

Catching up~I've been gadding back and forth to town (Quincy's description)

2009-02-03T10:30:00.007-05:00

Sometimes Quincy still makes me flutter inside. He is so big and rugged. Not at all like the men I knew in Boston, or like the Eclipse banker, Steven Pauley. Steven wears a suit, and always makes time for me when I stop in at the bank to see him.

I wish my husband were as refined. I have re-christened him, Quincy . I told him the name Ambrose made him sound old and stuffy. He kissed me in front of the children and told me to buy something pretty for myself. Then he said I should take Alex and Brody with me when I next traveled off the Double-Q .

I should have stayed home. But, to do what. Mrs. Clark keeps the house clean and the meals fixed. Sometimes Alex helps me with the flower garden, but the plants are set and that's done.

I just get so lonely when Ambrose is gone all the time...so, we went to town. I bought the most adorable pink dress for Ambrosia. I'm having one made just like it, so we'll look like twins...

Final edits in...

2009-01-27T16:37:00.007-05:00

I'm so excited. My final edits were approved today and Intimate Strangers is on the conveyor belt prepping to publish. I'm going to start posting some short excerpts...a few breadcrumbs to lead you to my debut.
I'm expecting the new cover any day. The bookcover displayed on my web page and here on the blog was put together by a friend of mine. I tip my invisible hat to Tim for his efforts but the LSB cover will replace it when it's finished.

Flicker installment

2009-01-21T06:39:00.008-05:00

2. Narrative

I hear the word ‘will’ a lot. Everyone has a will they are promoting.
“It’s the Lords will…” that’s the minister who descended as soon as he heard I was in a coma.
I don’t much like his god if He willed me sick. He, the minister not his god, suggests that a Recreation Center annexed to the church would be a nice commemorative gesture.
Reverend Peterson inserts this suggestion into his conversations with my family every chance he gets, as he promotes the idea that there was a master plan for me to be thrown from my horse and die.
I don’t like the minister and I really hope there is a hell so he can go there.

POV choices

2009-01-20T18:58:00.009-05:00

One of the bad things about dying is the constant whispers. It really gets on my nerves. Well, maybe, not just the whispering—the visitors irritate me too. People who in life have never given me a second thought, now stand around my bed and talk about me as though I am already dead.

POV TRAUMA

2009-01-20T13:00:00.009-05:00

To be or not to be---me or she, that is the question. Point of View, or better known as POV by authors, is one of those issues that can send an author shrieking in no time flat. What difference does it make, you asked? Why not just use the narrative I and forget about it?
Well, using I both simplifies and limits. If I is you're focus person, than every other character only gets mentioned as a direct result of interaction with...you've got it...I.
Sometimes scenes need more background, explanation, etc. And, to make the story develop, you need to add another person's thoughts. Can't do it if you're writing a first person narrative. I recently submitted a work, that did eventually make it to contract.
I tried cheating a little. I started in third person (she) and then switched to first person (I) in the body of the work, transitioning between support characters, (3rd) and main character (1st.)
I was very happy with it, not so the Acquistions Editor. So of course, given the choice between changing it or not selling, I rewrote the entire piece, using third person.
I've read skilled authors who use this mixed POV technique (guess I'm not there yet). But, whatever POV you choose to use as a writer, it defines your work from the first sentence forward.
I'm going to play around with my WIP and post scenes written both ways. Tell me which you think works better if you get a chance to blog for a bit.

I like cowboys

2009-01-19T12:58:00.001-05:00

There's something so sexy about a horse wrangler. Dealing with those animals all day long, mmmm, makes me wonder if some of the beast has rubbed off... or on?
Read my new western coming this spring at Liquid Silver Books. It's called Intimate Strangers.
It's about Ambrose and Lucy Quince. They fought like any married couple does, and Ambrose, being older, was just a little jealous of his young wife. But when she disappears, he loses half of his life. When she reappears three years later, he doesn't even hesitate to take her back to the Double-Q ranch and into his life.
But Lucy is the victim of kidnap and abuse. She's tracking the men who ruined her life. It doesn't help that she's lost her memory. But, her husband is right there in her face, reminding her daily, that he's not losing her again.
I'll let you know when LSB announces my release date.

The Compulsion of Writing

2009-01-19T12:29:00.001-05:00

I know that there are many of you out there. You want to write, but you need someone to read your endless mind clutter that you've set down on paper.
You're an author waiting to happen. Don't wait any longer.
"Time is but the stream I go 'a fishing in..."
Henry David Thoreau, didn't even make it into his thirties but accomplished enough through his writing to make him timeless.
Join in. Read what I post, and share your thoughts as well as your mind clutter, too.