Archive for November, 2016

Chasing Justice (part three)

from Silver Cotton   (available December 10th)


That was Kirsten’s last spoken word for ten days. She had frozen during the preparations, the funeral, even the reading of the will. She responded to no one, not the staff, or friends. John or his son would escort her to her room after every meal. No one else was allowed. A cup of her father’s special tea would be poured. She made a point to at least smile before they left her room. Only then would she cry and drain the cup into a failing plant.

The morning of the eleventh day, Kirsten woke to the muffled sounds of conversation coming from the hall. She rolled over and focused on the plant.

“Let her sleep,” her protective butler commanded from the other side of her door. The brief hesitation had Kirsten leaving her bed, putting on her robe over her nightgown. As she reassembled her untidy braid, she knew what had happened. Her plant had died.

She said little, but she did listen. She later learned about the disappearances of most of the company funds, household accounts, art collections, and John and Jared Pettigrew. Kirsten kept busy. Her father had taught her to research. She had received answers to some of her queries concerning their history. Her father had been right. According to Louisiana state law, all she owned had disappeared with her husband, but not all her father owned.

The Pettigrew greed wanted it all.

Time to attack? Kirsten’s ambitious mission allowed a revengeful spirit to flow. Her father had taught her to strategize. She aspired to find her father’s killer, her swindler, and husband. All she had was her theory.


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Chasing Justice (part two)

from Silver Cotton  (available December 10th)

Train whistles and additional jostling released Kirsten’s reminiscing. The list stared at her up from her lap desk. Memories aren’t always sweet. The return of the Delameres from Europe to New Orleans had opened hell’s gate and out slithered John Pettigrew.

First Mother had died a sudden and painful death. Father sheltered himself in grief while his business fellows came and went. With them entered a charming gentleman who convinced her father that Kirsten should marry, should marry him. A naïve older lady married the devil in southern gentleman disguise.

A week after her wedding trip, Kirsten and her father enjoyed their usual chess game in his library. He captured her third pawn, as she poured his tea  and added his favorite – two sugar cubes and a shot of whiskey.

“You’re distracted. Is it that demon you married?”

“What has changed your mind about him, Papa?”

“His son, Jared, who’s existence  surprised us all by his appearance at the wedding and he’s not a gentleman. I had to apologize to most of the ladies at your reception.” He took a sip of his tea and made an unusual face. “This isn’t my blend. Where’d you get it?”

“Remember, John gave it to you, just yesterday?”

“Is it a bit warm in here?”

“No, Papa.” George Delamere stood, drew out his diamond stick-pin from his neck cloth and untied it. He started on his shirt buttons, all before he fell to the carpeted floor. “Papa!” Kirsten knelt and tried to clear the cloth from his neck and his worrying purple complexion.

“Don’t let him….”, her father managed before his body went slack and his face drained to an angry white.

“Papa!”, she tried again. Her screams brought her husband rushing in and he knelt on the other side of his father-in-law. He felt his neck for a pulse.

“I am sorry, my dear, but his time has come.”


from Silver Cotton   (part three soon)









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Chasing Justice

from Silver Cotton (release date – December 10, 2016)

Introduction, part one

The first class coach swayed over the train tracks toward Charleston, lulling her to dream or at least to drift. The daily newspaper slipped from her hands and fell to the floor – August 1, 1910. Outside, the swiftly passing city hovels, tall pines, and swamps flickered and flashed the sunlight and they caught Kirsten feeling sorry for herself. That would never do. She reached for her black leather traveling case and transformed it into a writing desk.

To cheer up, she started to list her blessings. It began with health: good, occasional weeping since Daddy died, and fits of anger since the first scandal , but less stress since Pettigrew’s address had changed to a New Orleans’ jail. Money was second, enough, if she behaved in the usual Delamere conservative  manner, or so her lawyers promised.

To conserve had been one of Daddy’s themes, but his favorite was a trilogy: research, strategize, and then attack. First he had taught her to read. He had instilled in her a reverence of the written word, mathematics, and chess; hours of it, no interference allowed. Later there had been travel. With Mother, they explored the European capitals: Rome, Athens, and London. Her family donated their art collection of England’s JMW Turner’s creations to London’s Tate Museum and funded the building to house them.

(More Soon)





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