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echoes of Drowning Creek
Marilyn Nichols Kapp
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The outbreak of war, an unstable mother, poverty, the law, the lawless and even nature seem bent on shattering Miranda (Randy) Heydon's dreams.

Through much determination, a little bootlegging, some justifiable blackmail, horse thievery and unabashed conniving, Randy struggles to obtain justice for her murdered brother. Along the way she learns that love is where you find it and the hearts desire she always thought just beyond her fingertips has been within her grasp all along.

Belly down on a bed of icy leaves Randy Heydon cupped her hands and held them to her mouth. A pale moon crept over the peak of Pilot Knob and brought with it a biting wind that whistled through the ravine, stung her cheeks, and filled her eyes with tears. Dampness from the frozen ground seeped through her clothes and lay on her skin like a chilling fog.

For the hundredth time, she puffed warm breath on her fingers then stuck them under her arms to hold the heat a little longer. The cold was misery, but worse was the prickle of impatience crawling along her flesh.

Months of hoping, scheming, and lying awake at night anticipating the sweet release of vengeance, had brought them here. Now that it was almost time, the minutes stretched ahead, each second an eternity all its own.

She sighed and squirmed closer to Toby, grateful for his support.

Toby laid his arm across her shoulders and leaned close to whisper, "Patience, Sweetheart. It'll be easier if you don't think about it. Just think about tomorrow."

Tomorrow! The rush of warmth that filled her was almost enough to dull the chill. Tomorrow would bring something new; something as bright and shiny as the lone star winking through the net of swaying limbs above her head.

First though, was getting through tonight.

She shivered and tried to concentrate on the activity around the fire glowing in the hollow below. Sight of the flames and the men stretching their hands to the heat, only intensified the cold on the ridge.

Soon the waiting and the heartache would be behind her. Any minute Zeke Isaacs would walk into the trap that Josh, Toby, and she helped the sheriff set. Unbidden, a question grazed her thoughts. When Isaacs was finally tried and convicted would it lessen the sour taste his name brought to her mouth? If he went to jail it would be for bootlegging, not the killing of Josh’s wife and children.

The injustice of it brought another surge of prickly skin. She slid the cap from her head and raked her fingers through the thick tangle of her hair. God, she hated waiting. When this was over, she dared anyone to ever mention patience to her again!

"Just a little longer, Randy," Josh promised softly.

She nodded grudging reassurance through the darkness at her brother. They had waited too long, been disappointed too many times, to let a restless moment spoil it now. Sighing again, she forced herself to settle down and pass the time by watching the men who guarded the moonshine still on the floor of the ravine.

One of the men, the younger of the two, straightened from his crouched position and fed the end of a long log into the small stone furnace. From the scant amount of smoke rising above the flue, Randy judged the wood to be ash or hickory. Both burned hot and clean.

Raising her head, she sniffed for the familiar odor—like soured dough — but her nose was too cold to smell the cooking mash.

Josh, Toby and she had lain there, enduring the discomfort, since the last light of day had faded into dusk. But it would be worth every minute of the ordeal, if after all these years, her brother could at last find peace of mind.

Josh stiffened beside her and turned to peer through the night toward the old abandoned logging road.

Miranda listened. All was quiet except for the hoot of an owl somewhere down the ridge. Then she heard the low groan of an engine straining up the hill. The sound faltered, was followed immediately by the grinding of gears as the driver shifted to low. Then two piercing beams of light swung around a bend. She flattened against the ground.

A sharp intake of breath from Josh made her wonder what he must be feeling now. Her own heart was pounding wildly. She swallowed hard. Josh would be in even more danger if anything went wrong tonight.

Toby raised the rifle to his shoulder and laid his cheek against the stock.

Marilyn Nichols Kapp was born in Richmond and grew up in Madison and surrounding counties. Writing has been a lifetime passion

As well as a member of the Richmond Writers Group, she is a member of Romance Writers of America, Futuristic, Fantasy & Paranormal and Sisters in Crime writing organizations. She is a member of the Madison County Historical Society and Madison County Civil War Roundtable.

Ms Kapp resides in Richmond, spending most of her time with writing related activities.

Ms. Kapp’s talent as a storyteller amazes me as she cross genres as easily as crossing the road. Readers buy this book: you will not regret it! --- *****Five Stars Reviewed By Jewel Dartt, Midnight Scribe Reviews November 1999

The twists and turns the author takes you on from here will amaze you and the end results are surprising. This is definitely a good book for those that don’t care for the heavy psychological thriller books. -- Review by: Tracy Eastgate, Tracy’s Book Reviews, (http://www.geocities.com/t_eastgates_reviews) **** Highly Recommended

A spine-chilling page-turner from a writer who knows how to scare the reader with suggestion, a rare talent. It’s almost anti-climactical that she also has the ability to create a very satisfying romance. What a thrill to read this great book on my Rocket Ereader! But whether or not you own a Rocket to read it on, don’t miss Where The Firethorns Grow.-- Reviewed by Jane Toombs --4 Stars

Fiction Books :: Historical Books

ISBN: 1590889665
ISBN(13-digit): 9781590889664
Copyright: 2008
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
Binding: Perfect
No. of Pages: 450
Paper Weight (lb): 18.6

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