Eleanor Tatum

Egad! Writing flashbacks for my characters is not easy. I want to tell you everything Catherine has been through before you met her, but alas, that would be boringly stupid and unnecessary to her story. So, here’s just a bit found on page 42-43. How she met the Garretts:

When Catherine had arrived on the Charleston train in Plainville, she walked along the platform with the other third class passengers. There weren’t many and fewer from the first class carriages. Good, she thought, a small town.

She saw them first. Four of them surveying the passengers. Turning quickly, she marched in the opposite direction and hid behind a cart piled high with luggage and crates. These four had been a nuisance since she escaped from Charleston, but she taken this train and it had switched engines in Dillon, South Carolina. They must have taken a later one.

“There, over there!”

Her long skirts wrapped her legs as she ran. Trying to hang on to carpetbag was the problem. She tripped and they had her surrounded. Her fear had sent sweat dripping into her eyes. She had glanced at her scraped and bloody hands and she felt her knees were in the same shape.

“Now, girly, quit this nonsense and come with us,” his grip on her upper right arm and been painful as he yanked her to her feet.

“Catherine Randolph, your parents want you back,” a hand grabbed her breast, but slowly shifted to her left arm. “Oh, excuse me, my lady,” his sarcasm flowed over her, “perhaps we can have some fun before we return you to your home and Mr. Pettigrew.”

“Shut up, Fred.”

A third man approached and slid his finger down her face. Without thinking, she bit it. The slap was violent and rapid, and it would have brought her to her knees if the first two hadn’t held onto her arms. A fourth voice interrupted. “Let’s get out of here. Fred, remember, our boss’s name is Smith.” He directed them toward a wagon hitched to two powerful mules.

The option of screaming had belatedly arrived in her foggy brain, but as it turned out, the timing was indeed advantageous. Her lungs and vocal cords announced to anyone who cared that she wanted no part of the wagon, those mules, or especially those four goons. A small crowd of concerned citizens surrounded her and her problems and they demanded answers. With a small amount of calculating, the four had started to drag her toward their wagon and they had tried to talk their way around the sudden vocal blockade.

The crowd had something to add to the debate. “Leave her be! She looks like she doesn’t want no part of you boys.” They convincingly raised they fists, clubs, and a few rifles.

Catherine took advantage of the sudden relaxed grip on her arms, scrambled through the group and returned for her dropped bag.

She had been followed by an angel. “This way, young lady, hide under this tarp, up here on this wagon.” The kindness behind the demand had Catherine scooting up and under. “Ross will be right back to help us get out of here as soon as he and the others get rid of your friends.”

Enough! Next time we’ll return to Catherine’s swampy haven and her rescuers.