Day 10: 8,038 (3336 Book 3/120,421 Total)

Today's picture is a blue jay!

Welcome to book 3. It is science fiction and at the moment it's called Working for The Guild, but that will likely change later.

The western is 51,703 words long. I had trouble with it -- not a surprise. About the final 8,000 words is a 'One Year Later' story that really just has the same characters and more trouble. I'll have to wait and see what I think of the entire thing in a few months.

This book started out good. I have ideas for it, and I think I just figured something out about the antagonist. I'm looking forward to working on it.

Tomorrow. Tonight I'm gong to get this posted, post some thing for work, send a couple work-related emails -- and get some sleep!

Here is the opening to the new book:

Zerod frowned as he looked out through the spider web pattern across the permaglass window. It had taken a bad hit, but at least nothing had come through this far. Through the pattern of the glass he could see far worse. In the wing of the building that stretched out a hundred yards away, the metal stood in twisted piles, even the permaglass shattered or melted. No one in that part of the building had survived.

He'd read the report on the way in from Desmona Prime. He'd seen holos of the scene. It did not live up to the real thing.

Someone hated the Felisa Family.

That wasn't a real revelation. No group of people got as powerful as the Felisas without making enemies of all sorts. They were, after all, a company family, with their hands in far too much of the business in the (something) Fringe. Some said the fringe never would have survived without the Families who had come in and invested their fortunes -- and made fortunes in return.

Zerod liked to think that they would have managed anyway. Humans were industrious little animals. They figured out ways to survive against the odds. Granted, it would not have been quite as comfortable without the Four Families, but he wasn't sure comfort was worth the price sometimes.

But even for all that -- the Felisa Family was the least troublesome of the families. They did well, they didn't push for more, and they didn't act as though they ruled, either here on Catrina or on any of their other holdings.

Zerod had worked on company-owned worlds. He knew the difference.

Someone came up to the doorway behind him. Zerod had already put his hand on his belt as he turned, and was greeted by a face he knew, though only from reports. He hadn't expected to see Royce Felisa, but only because the younger of the Felisa sons was not supposed to be on-world. He had a bag in hand. Obviously he'd just come in with the shuttle -- the same one Zerod had taken, but Royce would not have been in the common room.

"You must be one of the new guards hired," Royce said, his eyes narrowing as he looked Zerod over.

"No," he said. Best to get this out of the way. He removed his hand from the dagger at his belt and saw Royce's eyes blink in surprise. "I am the new assassin."

"You can't be," Royce said with an emphatic shake of his head. "My father would never hire --"

He stopped at those words, reconsidered the situation, and the frown grew. Zerod had expected it. People from his Guild were not welcome anywhere, even when they were most needed.

"My grandfather hired you," Royce said, anger hardly concealed under his thin veneer of manners.

Day 10: 10,302 (47,001 book/ 112,383 total)

For those who wondered about the bright red bird two days ago -- that's a Northern Cardinal. We get a lot of them in this area. This is the female, which we don't see nearly as often -- partly because they tend to blend into the background more than the males do. Today I got several shots of this one -- probably more shots of a female than I'd taken in all the rest of my life. I also got some great shots of a blue jay today. You can see one on my picture a day blog

http://zettepicaday.blogspot.com/

I had a much better day of writing than I expected. Things fell together this afternoon, and it really helped. I'm nearly done with story #2 and already thinking about story #3. Another 3k and I'll be at the minimum number of words for the story. I might just keep writing tonight (after at least one 'real world' job) and see how close I can get to finishing.Here's another short snippet. I know these aren't the most interesting things I've written, but that's all right. I've been experimenting with NaNo, and even if it isn't the best writing, I'm learning something about how I figure out characters. It's been fun.

And I have to say, after looking at one woman's blogged story snippets, I feel far better about mine. She knows how to write -- but her vocabulary is limited, and she uses 'shit or fuck' at least once in practically every sentence (blog and story, for that matter). And the scenes are so incredibly boring anyway, that the language is about the only thing interesting -- and that gets old real fast. She seems to think she's a genius. If that's so, I guess I'll just be happy to be a good writer -- even when I'm not writing the best I ever have. (grin)

Oh yeah. The snippet. Who knows -- by tomorrow night I might well be into another story entirely!
****




It was going to be another night camp and then tomorrow they'd be to the pass and by noon -- if they got past that obstacle -- they'd be to Santa Maria. Another half a day to the ranch. Tomorrow night at this time he'd know if they were too late or not.

There was one attack -- quickly repelled before he and Storm could even get into it. Just as well. He'd already had enough of fighting. He remembered why he had gotten out of the army early; march and fight, and eat bad food, and then start it all over again.. The enemy left a lot of dead on the road, and only the few with horses got away. They were pursued, but Kent had told them not to go up into the mountains where they could have set up an ambush.

It was a long day on the trail. They could see the enemy off in the distance sometimes, probably trying to draw them out, break the group up, and make it easier to fight them. It didn't work. Storm spent most of his time riding ahead or checking the arroyo, just to make certain no one tried that trick on them. He caught a group once. They didn't try it again.

And by the time the sun was going down, Kitt was out of sorts with everyone. He did his best to keep it to himself, and he spent a lot of time walking around while the others made a quick camp and set up the guard. By the time he made it back to General Kent's tent where he threw himself into a chair -- and regretted it when he bumped his arm.

"You should have that looked at," Kent said, looking across at him. "And then you should get some sleep while you can, because we're breaking camp at midnight and marching on."

He looked up, surprised by the revelation and feeling a little bit of a lifting of his spirit again. He nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Thought that might cheer you up, though you're a fool for it, you know. A good night's sleep would do wonders for us all."

"I know. But -- We need to get back."

He nodded. "Food is on the way. Where's Storm?"

"Out looking for trouble, I suppose," he said and tried not to fret at the question. "He'll be coming in soon."

Kent nodded and then grinned. "He makes you nervous, too."

"Of course he does."

Day 9: 8584 (36699 Book, 102,081 total)

A very hard day today, and not a very interesting snippet. Mostly I'm just tired, but I'm keeping up there still. I'm going to start slowing down here soon. I don't dare ignore other things any longer. It's been an interesting nine days though! I think I would like to write more in the western vein, but not until I get a better grounding in it.


Today's NaNo snippet:

They turned back, a slower pace as they headed home. Clouds were brushing across the sky and it looked like they were in for a wet night. He looked at Storm, wondering again where the boy slept at night. He hadn't figured it out yet, though he was never late in the mornings, and the guards never saw him leave the compound.

But then maybe they wouldn't. Kitt was starting to think there was more Indian in the boy than he let on -- that he knew their ways, and he could move with the shadows at night.

"There's that pinto again," Mr. Weaver said. "Sure wish we could get that one caught!"

Kitt looked up to see the horse standing on the trail in front of him. They'd seen him running wild for most of the last year, and she'd started looking it. The torn straps of a halter still trailed along beside her. They'd found the camp of the man who'd owned him -- the man dead, shot and robbed. The horse had been nearby, but he'd run.

"Anpayto," Storm said, his voice a whisper.

"Storm?" Mr. Weaver said.

But the boy slipped off his horse and handed the reins to Kitt. He limped forward -- a far worse limp than he'd had before. And then he held out his hands and gave a whistle.

The horse's head came up, the ears canting forward.

"Anpayto," Storm said again, a little louder. And then he whistled again.

The horse cantered straight to him, bent down, and rubbed his head against Storm's shoulder. Storm was already working off the halter, careful where it had rubbed the skin raw.

"The horse knows you."

"Yes sir. He was stolen from me." He picked some burrs out of the mane. Then he looked back at the men. "You believe me?"

"No doubt at all. She's your horse," Mr. Weaver said.

"Her name is Anpayto. It means radiant one -- A Sioux name. A chieftain gave her to me after I saved his daughter from some white men out to have fun. But a year ago someone stole him from me. I heard him tell his companion he was heading for Santa Maria. So I went there and I waited."

"He and his partner must have had a falling out. One of them is dead and buried out there. We found the camp. The horse was close by, but we couldn't catch her," Kitt said. "Good thing you came along today. Looks like she would have had a hard time going through another winter. How you going to get her back to the ranch?

"She'll come with me," he said.

He was right. The horse trailed along behind his mount like a puppy pleased to be going home. When they got back to the ranch, he went straight to work currying and feeding her.

"I'll pay you for what I use," Storm said, when Kitt and Mr. Weaver came back to the stables later.

"You already paid for it," Mr. Weaver said. "We would have lost Berto and maybe Mark, too. I don't like to bury hands, Storm. So you consider it paid up, whatever that beauty needs."

"Thank you, sir," he said and patted the horse on the nose. "I'm glad to have her back."

Day 8 -- 10,051 (28,115 book/93497 total)

It was another day where I didn't expect to do as well as I did. I'm over half way on this book -- not really sure what I'm going to do for this second half, but it's still going well.

Here's a little snippet:


"Take care of the horse," he said softly. Then he turned back to the house.

Mrs. Oliveria and Mrs. Lopez were at the door.

"Senor?" Mrs. Lopez said softly.

"DeLancie's horse, without the rider. They think he's dead."

"Madre de Dios," she said, her hand going to her heart. "No!"

"It's not proven yet," he said, because he didn't want to see her so upset. "We don't know anything for sure. And -- I have reason to think he's not. But that's between the three of us, ladies. No one else. We have some people on the ranch who are problems."

"The boy isn't gone, is he?" Mrs. Oliveria said, looking him full in the face -- the way she had when he as a boy. He still couldn't lie to her.

"No, he isn't gone. He's been keeping watch over us ladies. It's a dangerous time. But we'll pull through."

"I want my husband," Mrs. Lopez said with a whisper. "I want him safe."

"So do I."

She nodded and went back into the house. Mrs. Oliveria put a hand on his arm. She had not done that in a long time. "You are a good man. This is only a trial."

"I've had a few too many trials," he said. But then he shook his head. "But you're right. We'll get through this. If it comes to it, be sure to get Mrs. Lopez and the girls up on the roof and make sure they keep their heads down. You know what needs to be done."

"I know. Be careful, Senor."

He nodded and went back to his office. It didn't feel right. He shouldn't be sitting here, sitting and waiting and doing nothing.

And then he heard the gunshot.

He came out of the room, not surprised to see Mrs. Oliveria already gathering up the guests and heading them upstairs, even though they had no idea what was going on yet. Better to be safe.

He went out, of course. There were shouts from around the bunkhouse and then another shot out by the gate. He could see movement in the dim light of dusk. The wind had kicked up again, a cold brush like death itself against his face. He hadn't gotten his coat. He didn't care.

The enemy was coming for them.

He saw the line spread out to the right and left of the gate -- a hundred or more? He couldn't tell. It was too many. They couldn't hold.

But he could help make the odds a little better. He looked around, and spotted Craig and Divers, heading out toward the right, like they were going to keep guard in that direction.

"Pedro! Mark!"

They came at a run, wild-eyed and worried.

"Trust me on this. Craig and Divers are trouble."

"Damn," Mark said. He looked where they were going. "We'll cover them."

He and Pedro took off in that direction as well. He hoped they were careful. But there were too many --

And they attacked.

Day 7: 10,050 (18064 book/ 83446 total)

It may not look like it, but I'm really struggling here the last couple days. Part of it is the cold from hell that just will not leave me alone. Another part is my wrist, which is hurting more again. And there are other things, but we'll see how that goes by mid-month. With luck, something will work out right.

Of course, Luck and I haven't been well acquainted lately, so I'm not really counting on her showing up now.

Here's another short piece from the western. It's been kind of fun to do (despite the struggle part), and if I could just get a better handle on what I want out of this story, I think it would all work out. About a third of the way through the required count now, though, so I guess I'll probably do all right!

****


"Come on. You did your part today. It's time you were part of the crew," Mr. Weaver said.

Storm gave a reluctant nod, patted the horse and took a step forward --

And went straight down.

"Damn, boy --"

"All right," he said, but he moved his right leg carefully now. "Just need to rest a bit. I'll pass on dinner tonight."

Kitt shook his head and dropped down on his heels. He reached toward the leg, but Storm lifted his hands and pushed him away.

"Leave it be. Just go. I'll be fine."

Weaver tapped Kitt on the shoulder and nodded. He didn't want to go, but he knew forcing the boy to deal with the weakness and show it to them was not the thing to do. He found it annoying, but he stood.

"I'll bring you back some food."

He started to shake his head, and then changed his mind. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

It was something of a small win, at least.

He and Mr. Weaver left the barn together. Carl Weaver was shaking his head.

"The boy has been no trouble," Kitt said. "I'm surprised to find myself say it, but I like having him around. He gets things done."

"And no trouble with the men. I thought they'd cause some trouble about him being in the bunkhouse."

"I'm sure they would if the boy ever slept there." They slowed and Carl Weaver looked at him with a shake of his head. "The kid does his work. He comes in on time from wherever he sleeps, and he goes straight to work. He never complains and he never gives up. I'd say I'd like to have a dozen more like him, but there are other aspects that drive me crazy."

"Like the fact that we can't help him."

"That. And that he mistrusts everyone. I suppose that's natural, being what he is and all. But he should learn to know the difference."

"And then there's the other problem we saw today," Mr. Weaver said. He looked back over his shoulder. "I'd say the boy knows no fear, but I think it's something else entirely. I think he just doesn't care."

That wasn't a pleasant thought. Kitt looked back as well. "That would make him damn dangerous, wouldn't it, sir?"

"Yes, it would. I don't think he would do anything to hurt others. In fact, the opposite is obviously true. It's not like Berto is a friend of his, but he risked his life to protect him. But if he doesn't care, there's no telling what he might do."

"And we can't keep him safe, either," Kitt said.

Mr. Weaver nodded. Neither of them looked very happy about it.