Saturday, March 16, 2013

Excerpt from Claiming Mariah by Pam Hillman




Please enjoy this excerpt from Claiming Mariah by Pam Hillman

“A sad case, that one.”

Slade glanced at Mr. Thompkins.

“He lives down on the other side of the tracks. Got a timid little wife and two kids. A boy and a girl. He’s done a few odd jobs around town. Does a good job too, but he don’t stay sober long enough to work no more’n one or two days, and he’s at it again.”

The shopkeeper shook his head and turned away to finish Slade’s order. Slade tried to ignore the man slumped against the porch steps of the mercantile, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him. The whole situation reminded him too much of his own father. His father had stayed drunk, hardly knowing, or caring, if the rest of them had anything to eat or clothes to wear or even a roof over their heads.

He thought of the little boy he’d given the money to. Could this man be the boy’s father? More than likely. There probably weren’t too many drunks in a town the size of Wisdom.

“All right, mister, here’s your order,” Mr. Thompkins said.

“Put it on the Lazy M tab, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

Slade picked up his supplies and headed out the door, Buck right behind him. A little boy stood beside the drunken man.

“Pa?”

The man grunted. “Wha’? Wha’cha want?”

“It’s time to come home, Pa.”

The man brushed the kid away. “Leave me ’lone. Can’t you see I’m sleepin’?” He curled himself up on the porch.

Slade stuffed his saddlebags with his packages, unable to ignore the child as he tried to rouse his pa. As he suspected, it was the same boy he’d met down by the railroad tracks. Somehow he’d known those kids were hungry. They hadn’t asked for money or a handout. But he’d known.

“Pa, you’ve got to come home.” The youngster tugged on his pa’s sleeve. “Ma’s got some rabbit stew cooking. Don’t you want some stew?”

“Don’ want no stew.”

Desperation clouded the boy’s expression. “But, Pa—”

The shopkeeper stepped through the door. “Better get him out of here.” He sounded apologetic. “Or I’ll have to call the sheriff. Can’t have him running off all my customers. Especially the women. They won’t come in here with him plastered all over my porch.”

“Please, Mr. Thompkins, don’t call the sheriff.” Fear shot across the boy’s face. “Ma don’t want Pa to go to jail again. He’s almighty mean when he gets out.”

“I know, son, but he’s got to go.” Mr. Thompkins glanced at Slade, clearly in a quandary.

Slade looked at the boy. “How about if I help you get your pa home?”

“Would you, mister? I’d be mighty obliged.” A light of hope shone in his eyes.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Jimmy—” He drew himself up tall. “Jim Denton.”

“I’m Slade Donovan, and this here’s my brother, Buck.”

As Slade pulled the man to his feet, Jimmy’s pa glanced around wildly. “Where we goin’?”

“Goin’ for a little ride.” Slade helped him up on his horse. Denton groaned and slumped over the saddle horn.

Buck jerked his head toward his own mount. “You want to ride out to your house, Jim?”

Jim nodded, his too-long bangs flopping into his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Buck helped him up onto the gentle horse, and Jim led the way out of town. Just as Slade suspected, they crossed the railroad tracks past the church and headed down a rutted lane. Less than a mile from town, they came to a dilapidated shack.

Jim slid off Buck’s horse and ran toward the house. A thin young woman with light-brown hair came to the door. A look of relief eased her tired features when she saw her husband.

“Mr. Slade and Mr. Buck brought Pa home.”

“Ma’am.” Slade touched his hat.

It didn’t take much effort to haul Denton off the back of the horse and propel him toward the porch steps. He disappeared inside.

The woman turned to Slade, her gaze not fully meeting his. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, ma’am.”

Little Jim studied the ground.

Slade ruffled his thick shock of hair. “Jim, we could use some help out at the Lazy M. Would you be up to doing a little work this summer?”

“Could I, Ma?” The boy’s face lit up.

Mrs. Denton glanced toward the open door of the shack and twisted her hands in her faded apron. “You’d have to ask your pa.”

The boy’s face fell.

“You do that, Jim.” Slade gathered up his horse’s reins. “I’ll be by later in the week and we’ll see about it, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Jim mumbled, head lowered as he toed the dirt.

They rode home in silence. Slade knew he and Buck were both thinking about the abject poverty the Dentons lived in. The kind of poverty they both were familiar with. The kind that seeps into your pores and stays with you for a long, long time.

Slade took a deep, cleansing breath. But not anymore. His mother no longer lived in a drafty shack on the edge of town. He fingered the letter in his pocket, anticipating the day she’d arrive. He couldn’t wait for her to see the Lazy M ranch house. It might need work, but it was a mansion compared to where she’d lived for as long as he could remember.

Only one thing tempered his bright new future.

Mariah and her grandmother would pack up and leave as soon as his mother arrived, and he only had himself to blame.
 


 
Pam Hillman was born and raised on a dairy farm in Mississippi and spent her teenage years perched on the seat of a tractor raking hay. In those days, her daddy couldn’t afford two cab tractors with air conditioning and a radio, so Pam drove the Allis Chalmers 110. Even when her daddy asked her if she wanted to bale hay, she told him she didn’t mind raking. Raking hay doesn’t take much thought so Pam spent her time working on her tan and making up stories in her head. Now, that’s the kind of life every girl should dream of! Claiming Mariah is her second novel. www.pamhillman.com
 
 
 
 
Buy Links for Claiming Mariah
          B&N link: http://tinyurl.com/ays6fq7
          CBD link: http://tinyurl.com/bvjx3m7
Goodreads link: http://tinyurl.com/d9u2k6j
 
 
 

 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Pam Hillman ~ For the Love of a Child: An Ode to Will

Please join me in welcoming Tyndale author Pam Hillman who was born and raised on a dairy farm in Mississippi and spent her teenage years perched on the seat of a tractor raking hay.

In those days, her daddy couldn’t afford two cab tractors with air conditioning and a radio, so Pam drove the Allis Chalmers 110. Even when her daddy asked her if she wanted to bale hay, she told him she didn’t mind raking. Raking hay doesn’t take much thought so Pam spent her time working on her tan and making up stories in her head. Now, that’s the kind of life every girl should dream of!

Her work has placed in dozens of writer’s contests, including being a four-time finalist in Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart contest for unpublished novelists with Claiming Mariah, her second novel, winning the coveted Golden Heart. Her debut novel, Stealing Jake, is a 2013 Epic eBook Awards finalist. www.pamhillman.com


Now that you've read this, you'll glean a bit more about Pam from her post below:




Will Woods was our milk man when I was a little bitty squirt. And by milk man, I don’t mean he picked up those small 5 gallon milk cans. He drove a milk tanker and transported a gazillion gallons of milk every day.
 
 We lived down a long dead-end country road, and I could hear a car coming from a mile away. So it was no wonder that I could hear Will comin’ long, long before he got there.

Will gave me my first tricycle. Mama said Will didn’t have kids at that time, so I don’t know where he got the tricycle, but I distinctly remember that he brought it to me in the cab of his tractor-trailer for my birthday. I loved Will with all the passion of a pre-schooler who didn’t see anybody other than my parents and older brothers all week. Since my parents both worked on the farm, I didn’t go to pre-school or daycare: the dairy was my daycare; my brother, the dogs, cats, and newborn calves my playmates.

Will picked up our milk every other day, but I was too young to process how often “tomorrow” really meant, so I’m sure I drove Mama crazy asking when Will would be there. But I was old enough to know that if Mama and Daddy were done with the milking, it wouldn’t be long before Will showed up.

I have a good imagination (I’m a writer, after all), and this is kind of hazy, but I seem to recall sitting on the cement steps at the barn many a morning on those off days, and then trudging to the house when I realized Will wasn’t going to show up that day.
 
One Sunday morning, Mama was getting us all ready for church, rushing around as only a farm mother can do after getting up at five am to milk a herd of Holstein cows, and next thing she knew, I came flying out of the back room like a wild cat. She made a grab for me, but I tore out of the house toward the barn, yelling “Will’s comin’! Will’s comin’!” 

She hadn’t heard a thing. But I had. 

I’d heard that big motor, and those big wheels bringing my friend to me. And it didn’t matter that on some days all he brought was a tootsie roll or a piece of gum. He’d remembered me, and I was happy. 

While I had a loving, Christian family with roots deep in the red clay hills of Mississippi, my friendship with Will reminds me of Jimmy Denton’s relationship with Slade and Buck Donovan in Claiming Mariah.

Jimmy’s home situation isn’t the best: His pa is a drunkard, and they live in a shack that is falling down around their ears. Slade and Buck Donovan see a bit of themselves in the little boy, and they befriend Jim. Eventually, the caring and acceptance of the Donovans touch the entire Denton family, allowing healing and family to mend. Jimmy’s story is not the main thread in Claiming Mariah, but it is an important part. Jimmy weaves himself into Slade and Mariah’s story and finds a home there. Right where he belongs. 

Back to my friend, Will Woods. In my young mind, I assumed Will lived far, far away. As I wrote this blog post, I couldn’t remember his last name, so I called my mother. Mama told me she’d recently seen Will at a Wildlife Jamboree in our community. Over forty years after he ran the route as our milk man, some little nugget prompts me to write an article to honor the attention a man showed a little girl who lived on the back side of nowhere, only to find out he lives right here in my community, and not far, far away as I’d always thought. 

That God. He’s amazing, isn’t he? 

And so are the men and women who take time for a child.
 


In light of her father’s death, Mariah Malone sends a letter that will forever alter the lives of her family. When Slade Donovan, strong willed and eager for vengeance, shows up on her front porch, Mariah is not ready to hear his truths: her father’s farm, the only home she’s ever known, was bought with stolen gold. With Slade ready to collect his father’s rightful claim and force Mariah and her family out on the streets, Mariah must turn to God for guidance. Though Mr. Fredrick Cooper, a local landowner, promises to answer her financial woes if she agrees to be his bride, Mariah finds herself drawn instead to the angry young man demanding her home.

With the ranch now under Slade’s careful eye, he will unearth more than he ever imagined as a devious plot of thievery, betrayal and murder threatens more than the well-being of the ranch, endangering the lives of those who hold it dear. With days dwindling until the rest of the Donovan clan arrive to the Lazy M ranch, Mariah and Slade must rise above the resentment of their fathers and see their true feelings before greed alters their futures forever.



          B&N link: http://tinyurl.com/ays6fq7
          CBD link: http://tinyurl.com/bvjx3m7
Goodreads link: http://tinyurl.com/d9u2k6j
 
And if you want to contact Pam, here are numerous ways. 
 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/PamHillman or @PamHillman


Thanks Pam, for visiting with us, and I hope you all enjoyed her stay here.

ciao
LA