Author's Name: Gifford MacShane
Category: Adult
Genre: Historical Romance
Stage
of Completion:
Mostly polished, still too long
Preferred
Critique Style:
A Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down
Cat
person or dog person:
Cat Person
Tea
or Coffee: More tea
than coffee, mostly water
Short Pitch
In the 1880s Arizona Territory,
renowned silversmith Alec Twelve Trees is beaten by a rogue US Cavalry patrol,
then nursed back to health by Irene Donovan, daughter of the village's most
prominent citizen. Alec has loved Irene since childhood, but has convinced
himself her family would never accept him as a suitor because of his mixed
Spanish/Navajo heritage.
It's
not the only thing he's wrong about.
Writing Sample
From the wide porch of the Trading Post, Adam Donovan watched a U. S. Cavalry
patrol ride into town. His brows drew together, his eyes darkened. He threw
down his cigarette, crushed it out and stepped off the porch in one stride,
directly into the path of the oncoming horses.
The patrol leader pulled his pony up roughly. “Whaddya think yer doin’? Get outa the way!”
“Get off that horse,” Donovan growled.
“Who d’ya think–?” Before he could finish, the sergeant lay in the dust, staring up the barrel of a Colt .45. The man who held it had fire in his eyes and a reputation only a fool would ignore.
“You goddam horse thief! You're lucky I don’t kill you!” Adam fought to control his rage. “I’ve had enough of you–all of you. We don’t need you here and we don’t want you here.” Again the rumbling in his throat, like a big cat’s warning. “Get out!”
With his face screwed up in terror, the soldier crab-walked back, then scrambled to his feet and ran. His troop scuttled behind him. Wearily, Adam sheathed his gun and turned to the young man they had abandoned. He stood tall and proud, but swayed with every breath. His hands were tied in front of him, the ropes cutting cruelly into his wrists. He wore only the flared black trousers of the vaquero; his dusky skin was covered with dust and grass, his long hair dull around his fiery black eyes.
The patrol leader pulled his pony up roughly. “Whaddya think yer doin’? Get outa the way!”
“Get off that horse,” Donovan growled.
“Who d’ya think–?” Before he could finish, the sergeant lay in the dust, staring up the barrel of a Colt .45. The man who held it had fire in his eyes and a reputation only a fool would ignore.
“You goddam horse thief! You're lucky I don’t kill you!” Adam fought to control his rage. “I’ve had enough of you–all of you. We don’t need you here and we don’t want you here.” Again the rumbling in his throat, like a big cat’s warning. “Get out!”
With his face screwed up in terror, the soldier crab-walked back, then scrambled to his feet and ran. His troop scuttled behind him. Wearily, Adam sheathed his gun and turned to the young man they had abandoned. He stood tall and proud, but swayed with every breath. His hands were tied in front of him, the ropes cutting cruelly into his wrists. He wore only the flared black trousers of the vaquero; his dusky skin was covered with dust and grass, his long hair dull around his fiery black eyes.
Hi! I read your sample and I'm picturing the setting in the movie Tombstone, I love that movie. I do have some suggestions after reading your sample and would be willing to swap a couple chapters to start with if you're interested. If so, you can msg me at cslc317 g mail. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteLoved "the soldier crab-walked" great image. If you are interested in trading chapters email me at kristirad4d@gmail.com
ReplyDeleteI write contemporary, but read everything. Grew up on wagon train stories. Love the excitement and danger.
Kristi Radford
Loved "the soldier crab-walked" great image. If you are interested in trading chapters email me at kristirad4d@gmail.com
ReplyDeleteI write contemporary, but read everything. Grew up on wagon train stories. Love the excitement and danger.
Kristi Radford