(Okay, so in a moment of craziness I decided to take on the challenge of writing a novel in a month and sharing the experience with you. If you are usually reading my blogs on Christian living, don’t give up on me. Instead, you can safely ignore any posts labeled with the NaNoWriMo tag if you have no interest in reading a novel in progress. For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy reading this first draft of a new novel that I literally plan to write a new segment on each day for the month of November. Your comments can even help me determine just where the story goes. Thanks in advance for joining me on this journey. –Ramona)
Bess pulled at a loose thread sticking out from the frayed edge of her jacket, trying hard not to look at the profile of the taciturn man in the driver’s seat beside her. Judd Taylor was lean and muscular with a face only a mother could love, all sharp angles and rough like leather. She hadn’t expected to find her brother-in-law when she walked into the small town’s police station looking for her husband’s family. But, as she fumbled through her explanation of why she was looking for the Taylor family, Judd had pushed past the receptionist and demanded to know just who Bess was.
The hand she held out to show him the marriage certificate, along with the telegram from the Defense Department, shook visibly as he snatched the papers from her and studied them with black eyes that flashed fire. Judd had taken two deep breaths before he nodded toward the office labeled Sheriff and then waited to follow her into it.
The door closing behind him snapped, causing Bess to jump. She placed a protective hand on her protruding belly and took her own deep breath.
Judd sat down behind his desk and stared at her until Bess was forced to look away. “We had the funeral two weeks ago,” he finally said, his voice hard like flint. “Where were you?”
Bess swallowed at the bile that rose in her throat. “Your brother was such a good man,” she said. “I didn’t have the bus fare then, for the funeral.”
Judd grimaced. “If you’re expecting to find a million dollar spread, you need to know Daniel was prone to exaggeration.” Before she could react to this insult, he added, “Is the child his?”
Bess placed her hand on her belly and glared at the intimidating man. “I’d ask why else you’d think I was here,” she said, proud that her voice didn’t waver, “but you’ve already made that clear. I thought your mother would want to know. I don’t really have anyone else.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow, which only piqued her temper. “Are you even old enough to drive?”
Bess pulled on one of her blond curls, an abundance of which clung to her head in a pixie cut. “I’m 20-years-old, as if that’s really your business.” She turned toward the door. “This was a mistake.”
For such a tall man, he moved like lightening. He was standing in front of the door, his hands on his hips. “Agnes will want to know you,” he said grudgingly.
Agnes was Daniel’s mother. He’d talked about her on warm evenings in Galveston as he and Bess had sat out on the seawall and watched the foamy waves crash into the sand. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance. Daniel had married Bess just two weeks before he was shipped out to Vietnam in a justice of the peace office just off the strand. A month later, Bess finally visited a doctor to verify she was pregnant. And now, before her pregnancy was even six months along, her husband was dead, killed taking a randomly-numbered hill that his unit gave back to the enemy just two days later.
Without another word, Judd had led Bess to his patrol car, opened the passenger-side door for her and then eased behind the wheel to drive her to the family homestead. He glanced at her now as the car turned off the paved highway onto a caliche road that wound through cotton fields and past a large chicken farm whose pungent odors wafted through the car and caused the nausea to rise in Bess’ throat.
“You look a little green, Mrs. Taylor,” Judd told her, snarling her name as if he had to rip it from his throat. “Could it be that you’re a city girl?”
She had lived on her grandfather’s hardscrabble farm and then in the sterile, crowded environment of the children’s home. For several hard months when she turned 16, she’d even lived under a bridge on the outskirts of Houston with a group of other teenagers trying to avoid the evening ward whose hands groped and breath stank.
Judd Taylor didn’t need to know anything about any of that, however. “You try being pregnant,” she shot at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
He made a noise that might have been a chuckle, except Bess was sure he never even smiled. He pulled into a dirt drive and wound his way a half mile up it before reaching a single-story house that sprawled across the landscape amidst several animal pens and weathered tin sheds. A black and brown bloodhound bound up to the car, his deep-throated barking ringing through the car windows.
“Jethro is more bark than bite,” Judd told her, stopping the car and opening the door in one fluid movement.
Bess took a few deep breaths. Before she could get out of the car, the screen door to the house opened. A tall, thin woman stepped out into the yard. Her silver hair was pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head. Her skin was deeply tanned and stretched tight across her bones, which seemed to push out at all angles from her head to her large feet. She wore a decade-old day dress, a faded yellow, that swung around her ankles. She said something to Judd which Bess couldn’t hear. Judd pointed toward the car, pushing the cowboy hat he wore to the back of his head, revealing his cold, black stare.
Agnes placed a hand to her mouth and practically ran to the passenger side of the car. Before Bess could do anything, Agnes pulled open the door and bent inside the car to embrace Bess in a boney hug. When she pulled away from Bess, both women had tears in their eyes.
Bess struggled out of the car and stood beside the other woman, doing her best not to look toward Judd, who presumably stood studying her as if she were a criminal suspect.
“At least you’re glad to see me,” Bess heard herself exclaim before she could still her tongue.
Agnes laughed, a deep, healthy sound that was almost like music. “Don’t mind Judd, dear. He and Daniel were practically opposites in almost every way. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. It takes my Judd a while, but once he warms up to you, he’s the best friend you could have in this life.”
“I hope it’s all right that I came,” Bess said. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Agnes was pulling her gently toward the house. “Of course you’ll stay here. I want to see my grandbaby grow.”
They were even with Judd then, who made another noise deep in his throat.
“I am used to hard work, Mrs. Taylor,” Bess said, forcing herself to look Judd straight in his black eyes. “It won’t take me long to settle. I should have a job by the end of the week.”
“How do you plan to get to this job?” Judd barked. “You may not have noticed, but we aren’t exactly within walking distance to town.”
Agnes slapped at her son’s arm. “There’s plenty you can do just making sure I get a healthy grandchild, Bess,” she said. “But, enough about that later. You must be tired. Where did you come here from?”
Now that she was finally at her destination, Bess felt her nerves and tiredness catch up with her. “I’m sure you want to know all about me and Daniel, Mrs. Taylor. I’m afraid there may not be all that much to tell.”
Agnes shook her head and laid her hand on Bess’ back, rubbing it so that Bess felt strangely comforted. “You just get yourself some much-needed rest for now, child. Let me show you your room.”
She walked Bess down the long hall and stopped in front of a room just as Judd exited it. There was a twin bed with her small suitcase placed on top of it. A simple nightstand and large armoire, along with a wooden rocking chair completed the furnishings. The walls had once been a vibrant green but had long since faded. A two-year-old Farmer’s Almanac calendar was the only thing hanging on the walls. Somehow, Bess thought, the room was exactly as she had imagined it would be.
“If you need anything, you just holler, ” Agnes said from behind her. “My room is just across the hall there, and Judd’s is just next door.”
Bess swallowed. She hadn’t realized the dreaded man lived with his mother.
“Somebody has to work the cattle and manage the men,” Judd said as if he had just read her mind.
Bess felt her cheeks grow hot. “It’s a lovely room. Thank you.” She stepped inside and turned before closing the door.
“Supper is generally around seven, if the criminals behave,” Agnes told her, smiling kindly so that Bess’ chest squeezed in response.
Bess nodded and closed the door without looking at Judd again. Still, as she closed her eyes after changing into the one flannel gown she owned, she was troubled by images of the tall, muscular Sheriff who was sure to make the last months of her pregnancy a real hell.
goodchristianfiction 
Love it so far! Can see the landscape and the characters.
Thanks!