G I V E A W A Y E N D E D
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Synopsis:
Helen Carter lives in the back seat of her father’s Model T in the harsh Nevada desert, surrounded by thousands of desperate souls trying to endure the hardships of the Great Depression. When her father dies while working on the Hoover Dam diversion tunnels, she finds herself alone. In this unforgiving landscape where marriage, prostitution, and starvation seem to be her only viable choices, Helen is determined to defy society’s expectations of a young woman and create her own American dream. She relies on her resourcefulness to survive but soon realizes she can’t go it alone.
Ezra Deal, a young dam worker, brought his sister to Nevada in search of the father of her child, only to have the man reject her. Tragically, both his sister and the baby pass away during childbirth, leaving Ezra with a profound sense of guilt. Determined to distance himself from any further responsibilities, he focuses on his job and locating the man who callously denied his sister. But when he learns that his friend Helen is running from not only the law but also a Las Vegas gangster, he must decide between his independent lifestyle and helping her.
As Helen and Ezra grow closer and become more invested in the diversion of the Colorado River from its course, their lives parallel this monumental change. Ezra can picture building a life with Helen, but she has other ideas. With the help of a thirteen-year-old runaway, a few prostitutes, a dead desperado, and Ezra, Helen embarks on a journey to live life on her terms.
Incorporating actual dramatic events gleaned from the oral histories of the dam workers, Ragtown highlights a time in American history when ordinary men and women overcame the challenges of the Great Depression and thrived.
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EXCERPT:
EZRA
When we reached the camp, a circle of ten or so men surrounded another, who quickly shifted from one man to the next, cussing and threatening them with a hayfork. In the center of the circle, two small figures lay naked on the ground. Their hands and legs were spread wide apart and appeared to be tied to tent stakes. They weren’t moving.
Ben was coughing uncontrollably when he reached us. “Dear Lord,” he said in between coughs. “What the hell happened?”
“One of the boys gave a can of beans to Johnny-behind-the-rock without asking his daddy first.
They’ve been out there for over an hour now,” Helen said.
“Where did he get a hay fork?”
“He used it for a tent pole. Tore down the whole thing to get to it.”
I alternated my stare between the man jabbing at the spectators and the two small bodies on the ground. I didn’t want to get stabbed, but somehow, we had to get to those boys, and none of the other men seemed too keen on making a move.
Ben whispered something to Helen, and I heard her say under her breath, “If Ranger finds out we have a gun—”
“No.” I reached for Ben’s arm. “You’ll get fired. You can’t do that.”
Ben shook his arm loose. “Those boys are gonna die before Ranger gets here. I can’t let that happen.”
I could see the boys clearly now. They couldn’t be more than six or seven. Their skin was as red as a cock’s comb. I walked toward the circle, trying to focus on the man with the hay fork while others in the crowd tried to reason with him to no avail.
Too much going on and not enough sleep, or maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, but as he turned his back to me to jab his weapon at someone else, I broke the circle and tackled him from behind. We hit the rocky ground together, me landing on top, the hay fork a few feet away.
The man struggled against me, and I hit him square in the temple with a closed fist. Then another. And another. I felt all the anger inside of me boiling up—anger at my father, at Billy, and even at Grace for dying on me, and I hit him again. He bucked and threw me off him, swearing as he rolled over. He tried to get to his feet, but I kicked him hard in the abdomen with my booted foot, throwing him back to the ground. I grabbed the hay fork and raised it high over my head, directly above him. His face tensed, and his dark eyes filled with anger.
As I lowered the fork, a strong hold around my midsection pulled me away, and I missed my mark by inches. “That’s enough, son,” Ben said from behind me. Four men held the offender down and, after untying the boys, hog-tied him with the same rope to keep him until Ranger arrived.
The boys’ skin had started to blister, and they were covered with red ants. I turned away, unable to look at them, and focused on Helen. “Are they alive?”
“Barely.”
Author Note: Johnny-behind-the-rock was mentioned in one of the many oral histories related to Ragtown. Too old to be employed on the dam project, he lived alone behind a large boulder with nothing to his name but the clothes he wore. He rarely came from behind his rock, moving throughout the day to stay in a shady spot. He rarely spoke and survived on what others gave him. He was known only as Johnny-behind-the-rock. I don’t know his story, I’m not sure anyone does, but I’m sure it was tragic to live as he did. I wanted to remember him in some way, even if it is only a mention in a work of fiction.
The ant scene is a fictionalized account gleaned from a true event that took place in Ragtown. I included it to show the cruelty that desperation can breed.
Author Bio:
I want readers to take something away from my books and short stories: something memorable, whether it be an interesting protagonist, an emotion or a moment in time.
Depending on what characters decide to sit beside me on a particular day, I may write historical fiction or quirky, dark humor.
My interests are as diverse as my writing. I am at home fishing on a river, riding horses in the mountains, reading on a beach, hiking through the desert or playing pirate with my friends.
I don’t believe in growing old and I refuse to grow up.
EXCERPT:
RAGTOWN excerpt from Chapter 8:
EZRA
When we reached the camp, a circle of ten or so men surrounded another, who quickly shifted from one man to the next, cussing and threatening them with a hayfork. In the center of the circle, two small figures lay naked on the ground. Their hands and legs were spread wide apart and appeared to be tied to tent stakes. They weren’t moving.
Ben was coughing uncontrollably when he reached us. “Dear Lord,” he said in between coughs. “What the hell happened?”
“One of the boys gave a can of beans to Johnny-behind-the-rock without asking his daddy first.
They’ve been out there for over an hour now,” Helen said.
“Where did he get a hay fork?”
“He used it for a tent pole. Tore down the whole thing to get to it.”
I alternated my stare between the man jabbing at the spectators and the two small bodies on the ground. I didn’t want to get stabbed, but somehow, we had to get to those boys, and none of the other men seemed too keen on making a move.
Ben whispered something to Helen, and I heard her say under her breath, “If Ranger finds out we have a gun—”
“No.” I reached for Ben’s arm. “You’ll get fired. You can’t do that.”
Ben shook his arm loose. “Those boys are gonna die before Ranger gets here. I can’t let that happen.”
I could see the boys clearly now. They couldn’t be more than six or seven. Their skin was as red as a cock’s comb. I walked toward the circle, trying to focus on the man with the hay fork while others in the crowd tried to reason with him to no avail.
Too much going on and not enough sleep, or maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, but as he turned his back to me to jab his weapon at someone else, I broke the circle and tackled him from behind. We hit the rocky ground together, me landing on top, the hay fork a few feet away.
The man struggled against me, and I hit him square in the temple with a closed fist. Then another. And another. I felt all the anger inside of me boiling up—anger at my father, at Billy, and even at Grace for dying on me, and I hit him again. He bucked and threw me off him, swearing as he rolled over. He tried to get to his feet, but I kicked him hard in the abdomen with my booted foot, throwing him back to the ground. I grabbed the hay fork and raised it high over my head, directly above him. His face tensed, and his dark eyes filled with anger.
As I lowered the fork, a strong hold around my midsection pulled me away, and I missed my mark by inches. “That’s enough, son,” Ben said from behind me. Four men held the offender down and, after untying the boys, hog-tied him with the same rope to keep him until Ranger arrived.
The boys’ skin had started to blister, and they were covered with red ants. I turned away, unable to look at them, and focused on Helen. “Are they alive?”
“Barely.”
Author Note: Johnny-behind-the-rock was mentioned in one of the many oral histories related to Ragtown. Too old to be employed on the dam project, he lived alone behind a large boulder with nothing to his name but the clothes he wore. He rarely came from behind his rock, moving throughout the day to stay in a shady spot. He rarely spoke and survived on what others gave him. He was known only as Johnny-behind-the-rock. I don’t know his story, I’m not sure anyone does, but I’m sure it was tragic to live as he did. I wanted to remember him in some way, even if it is only a mention in a work of fiction.
The ant scene is a fictionalized account gleaned from a true event that took place in Ragtown. I included it to show the cruelty that desperation can breed.
RAGTOWN excerpt from Chapter 9:
Helen
Leaving the mountains once I was amongst them was difficult, but I knew I shouldn’t be gone too long. There were a lot of new people in the Wash, more arriving each day, and not all could be trusted. Just a little longer. I made my way down another path on the east side, toward the river, taking time to stop in front of a familiar beavertail cactus. In the early part of June, the cactus’s prickly pads had been covered with pink flowers. One flower, brilliant as the brightest prairie phlox, still remained. It had held on throughout the summer.
I knelt next to it, careful to avoid the spines that protected it. “If an old wildflower disappeared, no one would notice. But you are special. Even got your own bodyguard.” The people in Ragtown called this place ugly, but I didn’t care what they thought. They were faces moving past whose hearts were so filled with sorrow that they couldn’t see the beauty right in front of them.
Grace understood, and I think Ezra, in his own way, did too. At night, he often sat by the river, lost in his own thoughts, calmed by the sound of the rushing water.
I sat next to the cactus and watched the pink blossom move gently in the hot wind. “I know what you’re thinking,” I said to the flower. “But Ezra is different than the others. He’s like your cactus, rough and a little dangerous but dead set on protecting what he loves most.” But it didn’t always work out that way, and just as the flower would eventually fall victim to the environment regardless of her thorny guard, Ezra could only do so much. I cursed out loud, something I never did when others were around, and slapped my thighs hard with my palms. “I know, I shouldn’t be thinking about him.” But I couldn’t stop.
My eyes shifted to the broken ground. I hadn’t noticed before, but the cracks and fissures were similar to the lines on my hand. Darker and more pronounced, but the mountain was a much bigger creature than me. I held my hand to its skin, trying to feel it breathe. I lay down with my ear against the red dirt to listen, but all I could hear was the sound of the river nearby. I closed my eyes and saw Ezra, sitting by the water. I had to stop thinking about him.
I stood, brushed my worn overalls, and took a drink from my canteen. The sound of the river was enticing, and I watched it rush by, wild and unchecked.
But not for long.
I knew the government’s reasons for the dam project were sound. They wanted to harness the power of the water and, at the same time, give starving men an opportunity to eat. Since the mines closed in Kansas, it was Daddy’s and my only chance at survival. But in the process, they were destroying a part of the mountains in an attempt to tame a beast that had gone unchecked for longer than I could imagine. My mountains, the place where I felt I belonged.
“We’ll be fine. It’s going to be all right,” I said to the earth around me as I made my way back toward the trail. Dad, me, the desert, even Ezra… different but fine. My stomach was heavy as I remembered the last words I had said to Grace: “It’s going to be all right.” I wished I could believe that.
Author Note: One of my favorite things about Helen is her ability to find beauty in nature, regardless of her circumstances. I spent a lot of time in the desert writing this, looking for those bits of beauty that Helen could see. In doing so, the desert grew on me. There is a certain peace to be found in nature, and I’ve realized that different landscapes provide a different kind of comfort.
GIVEAWAY!
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This looks like a great novel.
Sounds interesting
This sounds very good.