My theme this year is blogging about my author brand. Fridays are a story told in parts. This story fluctuates between modern times and centuries ago.
LUMBER OF THE KUWEAKUNKS - part 4
The lieutenant governor leaned against the fence that marked the dividing line between civilization and the territory of the Kuweakunks. Jonathan stood beside him, a bandage covering the lump on his head and a cane helping his balance.
"Look at them. Lazy!" The lieutenant governor gnawed on a raw carrot. "Just lounging about under the trees. Have you ever seen one of them put in a day of work?"
"No, Sir," Jonathan held up a paper. "This one also needs your signature."
"Talk, talk, talk. What could they possibly have to say? You have heard them speak. Barely manage to string together a sentence."
Jonathan motioned with the paper. "A most ineloquent vocabulary. No command of our language whatsoever. If this could be signed, I can have the noon rider take it to the docks."
"Yes, yes! The docks. She will be here soon. Arriving on our first ship." The lieutenant governor spit bits of carrot as he spoke. "The King himself sanctioned our marriage. Did you know that? Sending her along with a proper priest to be sure it is all in order." He rubbed his stomach. "I am certainly good enough for her now. What say you, Jonathan?"
"There can be no question." He tried again to get the paper in his hand noticed. "More than good enough by now. Your rank and station are above her father."
The lieutenant governor let out a robust laugh. His fat mitt clapped Jonathan on the back, causing him to drop his cane. "It will stay that way. My next shipment will elevate my name. High value, Jonathan, high value indeed."
The former sheriff relied heavily on his cane as he approached. "I heard a child went missing from the school again."
"We have the situation handled, Mr. Long. You did not need to have someone bring you down here." The current sheriff said through gritted teeth.
"That so? Did you even glance at the old case file?" He pulled it from his sweater. The smell of his vintage orange and cinnamon musk wafted off the folder. Clorinda stormed over, demanding to know why the retired sheriff was at the scene.
"Mr. Long wants me to examine a thirty-year-old case." The sheriff grinned and turned away, leaving the old man to the rhinoceros. He watched a tree full of birds empty. The winged creatures fled the shouts. Lilia Turner, on the other hand, ran toward the noise.
"Is there word about my boy?" Her face was covered in tears.
"No, ma’am. You should sit and have some water. I’ve seen ships come in from hurricanes that looked in better shape."
Lilia waved the sheriff off. She moved closer to the argument.
"And where was the child thirty years ago? You do at least know that, don’t you? So we can look there. I daresay you didn’t come down just to waste time and be in the way."
The former sheriff shook his head. "Lilia Lion. I always loved how your name rolls off the tongue." He extended his hand.
"It’s Turner now. Has been for a long time." She shook the man’s hand.
"Ahh, but it was Lion." He pointed to the folder Clorinda had snatched away.
The two women were wide-eyed as they flipped it open.
"You were a missing person?" Clorinda rubbed Lilia’s arm. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Was it," she bit her lip, "was it very terrible?" Tears spilled out.
Lilia rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t remember any of this." She gagged and choked as Clorinda’s hands tightened around her neck, the rare moment of kindness dissolved.
"Where is my daughter?" She shoved Lilia against Mr. Long, knocking him over. "You know! Tell me what happened to you. Tell me where you were thirty years ago."
The rest of the story is the ebook version on Smashwords!
Set your own price!