A Snippet from "Making of an Outlaw"

Some days it is hard to come up with something about which to write.  Today is one of those days, so I have provided a small snippet of something I started on awhile back.

It was a soggy day.  Sometimes a light shower and at others a downpour, it had rained for three days straight.  It wasn’t cold so much as just the persistent, soaking wetness that sent shivers through Jake at intervals as he plodded through the puddles; three interminable days.

In a way, the rain was a blessing.  It erased tracks and kept the timid indoors.  High creeks had been a problem.  The detours, though, had probably helped to throw any followers off the trail. 

The plodding rhythm of hooves lulled Jake into a complacency that allowed vivid memories of the previous few days to come boiling up in his mind…. 

Fort Smith had been quite a place.  It was crawling with both Yankee and Rebel sympathizers as well as men from both sides of the recent conflict who only months before had been fighting each other.  Tension was high and shots often rang out when tempers reigned unchecked.  That was part of what had set Jake to traveling south.

Having grown up in Missouri, a border state, Jake was familiar with local sentiment that publicly followed whatever troops were in the neighborhood.  Mostly, people just wanted to be left alone.  The hill people, his people, chose where they lived because they craved a place where they were free to carve a life for themselves.

The Ozark hills were home to Jake.  He grew up on the mountain overlooking Swamp Hollow and Sellers Creek....