Starting to post essays and a free offer


I plan to start posting essays here from now on. Ideally only those I haven’t sold, but time will tell. I am also working on finding an agent for Time of Decision and trying to kick start another novel. Any takers on reading Time of Decision prior to publication? It’s a novel set in the Southwest about a young Hispanic man, Devante Carmona, and his three friends and their struggles with violence, indigence and prejudice while learning about patriotism and service  during the Spanish American War.

Here’s a brief excerpt:

TIME OF DECISION

Chapter I

“What about Señor Wilder?” Juan asked, dismounting in slow motion, dust rising from his saddle bows.

“What about him?” Devante said as he unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the ground.

“We are supposed to be checking on the windmills, not swimming in the stock tanks,” the small-boned young Mexican replied. Michael Herrera had already followed Devante Carmona’s lead, dropping his hardware, stripping out of his clothes, and standing in the hot desert sun in the altogether laughing.

“Do not worry about him, my friend,” Herrera said. “He does not come out here to work in the hot sun.” Herrera chortled again as he waved his bare arm expansively and leaped into the stock tank, the tepid water columning up and out of the tank, Devante following his friend’s example. Ernesto Alvarez splashed about in the warm water, ducking under, coming up sputtering, laughing with his friends. Juan De Luca shrugged, undressing completely, slipping gently into the tank, the warm water too much of a temptation in the middle of a rapidly warming day.

Two older men sat their saddles smoking and watching the younger vaqueros playing in the stock tank. Pietro Vasquez glanced at Alonso Francisco and said, “The young one is right to be worried. Wilder is a mean hombre.”

Francisco, by far the oldest of the ranchhands, nodded. “Si, I have seen myself what he can do.” He squinted upward and said, “But I think Michael is also correct. Señor Wilder does not like to venture out when the sun is at its hottest.” The old man flipped a tiny cigarette stub into the dirt, felt a shirt pocket for his makin’s and frowned, glanced at Vasquez who shrugged and shook his head, then turning back, resumed watching the play in the stock tank.

A lone rider sat his horse on top of a distant ridge watching, unseen by the Rocking O ranchhands. He frowned, lit a smoke, removed his hat and wiped at his broad brow with his left hand.

Contact me at: JerryL_Watson@hotmail.com if you are interested. Thanks.

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