Lies of Descent
Page 47
Cautiously Lemual moved toward the house. “Father?” he called out.
There was no reply.
“Father, are you there?” he called again when he reached the porch.
Hesitantly, he walked to the front door and stepped inside.
A sandglass later saw Lemual driving the wagon down the ruts that led from the farm to the main road. When he reached the intersection, he pulled back on the reins and brought Clod to a stop.
He looked left, in the direction of Stillwell, where he’d spent the morning ordering supplies. Then he looked right, the opposite way, in the direction of Cove and the coast. For months he’d stopped here, thinking that one day he would turn right and never look back. He’d never been able to do it. He’d made a promise to his sister the day she died.
With Father dead, he was now free of that promise. He’d packed what few clothes he owned, food, and everything of value he could find in the house and barn into the wagon. The purse at his waist held the two gold dregs left on the table and the few coins his father kept hidden away. Lemual glanced one more time to the left before turning Clod in the opposite direction toward Cove. Some might call him a coward, but there was nothing more he could do for his nephew.
Acknowledgments
I can’t possibly thank every person involved with hammering this story into coherent shape, but I’ll do my best. If I’ve forgotten anyone, my apologies for the slight. First, my deepest thanks to my agent, Jennie Goloboy, at Donald Maass Literary Agency for her unwavering support and commitment to both myself and her authors, and to Fleetwood Robbins for his developmental input and ideas.
To my beta readers, critique partners, friends, family, and ardent supporters who’ve trekked through variations or portions of the book, Danielle Hinesly, Jason & Jamie Krenkel, Jennifer Della Zanna, Colleen Davis, Tiffany Reynolds, Tasha Kreger, Rachel Robins, Stephanie Dunn, Tiffany Avery, Miles Watson, Melissa Freeman, Alison Wallace, Jen LaVita, and Jamie Pelzer, thank you for your time and priceless suggestions.
A huge thank you to my two mentors back in my MFA days at Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program, the late David Bischoff, who continually pushed me to swing more sharpened bits of metal around in my stories, and Timons Esaias, who very candidly forced me to recognize the worst of my bad writing habits.
To my family, thank you for all the time you’ve sacrificed to my writing madness. You’ve always believed in my work, and the journey would be empty without you.
And finally, profound thanks to Sheila Gilbert and DAW for allowing me to join the family.
About the Author
Lieutenant Colonel Troy Carrol Bucher served thirty years in the U.S. Army, where his assignments sent him to three wars and places like Turkey, Albania, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Germany, Kuwait, and Korea. His travels allow him to tap into a lifetime of experience working with diverse cultures and peoples, bringing multiethnic customs and realism with a distinct military flavor to his Science Fiction and Fantasy. You can find out more about him at www.tcbucher.com.
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