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Willows Under Trial: Short Stories Book 2
Willows Under Trial: Short Stories Book 2
Willows Under Trial: Short Stories Book 2
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Willows Under Trial: Short Stories Book 2

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Several plays have been composed into novels of short stories. This began the saga of Beneath the Willow. The first book in the series focused on several of the residents of the established settlements. After many years of hard work, the town began to flourish.
When they initially settled, all residents were in one central location. They spread out as the town began to grow. Development of farms and pastureland advanced rapidly.

The town of Willow Bend is filled with imaginary characters but implies a very realistic concept. It is the writers vision that the town was established in the 1870s.
Horace Lee Crowley and seven hundred migrants braved the elements, traveling until they found what they later established as the Willows. It was divided into several settlements: Willow Bend, Willow Estates, Willow Grove, and Willow Creek.

The people tilled the soil and made their own clothing. For a short length of time, everyone cooked on a huge open pit. They prayed, inspired, encouraged, and made unified efforts together to lighten the load of chores of one another. They suffered the hardship of floods, crop infestation, poor farming equipment, and loss of profits. Through it all, unity blended them together as a community. After many years of hard work, the town flourished. Disagreements were natural in personality differences but were short lived.

They migrated from a sharecrop farm thirty miles away. They tread large bodies of water that sometimes rose above waistlines. Small children were placed upon mens shoulders or on one of the old mules. Women carried the bundles of food and what little clothing they owned. It was a rough going, but majority of the people endured it. They had small clippings of flowers, twigs from fruit trees, and roots from vegetables. The substance of their existence was on their backs, mules, and wooden trestles that the men fashioned. Scraps of wood and small trees made up the trestles. This was the beginning of the Willows.

Once settled, many differences occurred, natural in personalities, but they were able to accomplish agreement with the help of the county judge. The drama was getting to that point.

Thanks for reading. See what you would do in these cases.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateDec 6, 2016
ISBN9781524564698
Willows Under Trial: Short Stories Book 2

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    Willows Under Trial - Annie Holmes

    Copyright © 2016 by Annie Holmes.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Rev. date: 12/06/2016

    Xlibris

    1-888-795-4274

    www.Xlibris.com

    747759

    CONTENTS

    Acknowledgments

    Beneath the Willow Book 1

    Honorable Mentions

    Introduction

    Chapter 1: Introduction To The Willows

    Chapter 2: Bend in the Willows

    Chapter 3: Cora’s Story

    Chapter 4: T-Bone’s Decision

    Chapter 5: Sadie’s Dilemma

    Chapter 6: Close-Knit, Loose Fit

    Chapter 7: Miz Nozeblume

    Chapter 8: Shady Willow News

    Chapter 9: Splashes of Elegance

    Chapter 10: Rosie of Willow Creek

    About the Author

    Acknowledgments

    The Lord Is the Light of Salvation.

    —Psalm 27:1

    To all of my friends and family, thank you for the encouragement to release this sequel to Beneath theWillow. I hope that it renders blessings of laughter, smiles, or a willow twig of inspiration. Johnnie Mae, Sam, Henry, Sandra, Julius, and Marquis Jones, and Barbara Womack (family). Friends, Barbara Wilder, Mary Salter, Celia Boykin, Rawland Simmons, church family, drama members, and all of my many supporters. Willie Holmes, my pillar, love you much.

    hand%20writing.jpg

    Write the Vision, Make it Plain

    The book is a creative imagination of the author. Although characters may seem dramatically realistic, it is a work of fiction. Similarity to any person’s life or places is coincidental.

    A Christian is—

    A mind through which Christ thinks,

    A heart through which Christ loves,

    A voice through which Christ speaks,

    A hand through which Christ helps.

    —Lima, Peru, Union Church News

    leaves.jpg

    Beneath the Willow Book 1

    Beneath the Willow recap and update of characters. The close friends Vera, Mae Liza, Lucy, Rosie, Ada Lou, Minnie, and Mae Bell continue to nourish their ever-growing community with love, true wit, and by the mercy and grace of God. Mae Bell, Lucy, and Rosie have made it a recurring event to visit her son in New York City each spring. T-Bone, Lucy’s grandson, ventured away to continue the desired passion of his heart, education. You will read more of his adventure in this second series.

    The Carlisle sisters, as will be presented in an upcoming book of the saga, established their home in New York as entrepreneurs. Business bloomed among the populace of Forty-second Street. Theater goers marveled at the creative designs of the girls.

    Ms. Etta, and her daughter Kara, sailed off to Paris to further Kara’s career as a singer.

    Lucas Allen Dumas and Denise Bottimier became engaged under the keen, watchful eye of her father, Claude Bottimier. Lucas soon proved himself a worthy suitor for the hand of Denise.

    During the Willows era, Roosevelt was the president. Silk stockings became a fashion must. A woman did not consider herself fully dressed without a hat, gloves, and a hankie. Men wore Stetson hats and shoes. Radio was the height of listening pleasure. Neighbors rushed to one another’s homes or at the general store to listen to the latest news and music. Mount Rushmore was completed. It was the era of lifting a helping hand to aid someone as you traveled along life’s journey. There were misunderstandings at times, but this was no valid reason not to show love and compassion one to the other in any given situation. These times are moments of reflection for some and insight to others. Come to the Willows where life is as it was, and some of what it remains today, life.

    Honorable Mentions

    The Willows series of books is from the author’s creative imagination. However, there was a Willow Grove Baptist Church in the county of her birth, Perry County, Alabama. The little wooden church set among a grove of trees on the Wimes’ estate.

    For many years, the author passed it and glanced at it setting there. Although I can imagine the many prayers, songs, and sermons that graced the pulpit, walls, and pews of the little frame church in the woods. The church in my imaginary willows is the Mt. Hebron Missionary Baptist.

    Willow Grove can be anywhere in town or anywhere in state, but neither of them is the reference of the author’s bright light of her imagination. It apparently is a common name. I have not, as of yet, given it a state name.

    *Willow Grove, Pa. spans over three centuries, originated by William Penn. It was known as the manner of Moreland. The first home was built there in 1716. It became the township of Moreland in 1719. The planting of willow trees to absorb the surrounding swampland strengthened the decision to give Willow Grove its name. The name officially became Willow Grove in 1792.

    Many subdivisions, parks, and real estate carry the name, Willow, but I believe that Pennsylvania carries the oldest. These honorary mentions prove that the Willows do exist outside of my imagination.

    Introduction

    Several plays have been composed into novels of short stories. This began the saga of Beneath the Willow. The first book in the series focused on several of the residents of the established settlements. After many years of hard work, the town began to flourish. When they initially settled, all residents were in one central location. They spread out as the town began to grow. Development of farms and pastureland advanced rapidly.

    The town of Willow Bend is filled with imaginary characters but implies to a very realistic concept. It is the writer’s vision that the town was established in the 1870s. Horace Lee Crowley and seven hundred migrants braved the elements, traveling until they found what they later established as the Willows. It was divided into several settlements: Willow Bend, Willow Estates, Willow Grove, and Willow Creek.

    peasant.jpg

    The people tilled the soil and made their own clothing. For a short length of time, every one cooked on a huge open pit. They prayed together, inspired, encouraged, and made unified efforts to lighten the load of chores one to the other. They suffered the hardship of floods, crop infestation, poor farming equipment, and loss of profits. Through it all, unity blended them together as a community. After many years of hard work, the town flourished. Disagreements were natural in personality differences but were short-lived.

    The town harbored a grain mill, ice house, train depot, church, school, general mercantile. Ms. Sue Nash established a boarding house. A town hall was set in the center of the town square. It hosted social events, town meetings took place, and court hearings. There was an open top calaboose at the back. One establishment that was well-known, but not spoken highly of, was Shaw’s Speak Easy. There were also barn dances held at Scooter Davis’ and Skeeter Lee’s places when the settlements first originated. Of course, later came the height of fashion in Gweneth Friedman’s clothing boutique. Thus, the willows advanced in growth.

    wheat.jpg

    They built wooden cabins, which later were refurbished, and made into frame homes. The grainer was the first industrial progress for the small settlement. Caleb Hendrix observed the growth of the tall flax grass that grew abundantly. He spoke with several residents, and they worked on various locations of the seven hundred acres. Soon, their shipments of grain went out by the wagonloads to surrounding places. Woodland Valley, a neighboring settlement, was a major contributor to progress of the Willows.

    It occurred to Caleb that they should begin to look into other areas such as corn. This sparked the building of the grist mill. Within a few years, they were the suppliers for corn meal as far as two hundred miles away. The new church building was erected. A variety of household items such as garden and field tools were supplied by Elijah Jackson’s general mercantile.

    People were soon migrating from nearby areas. The town’s growth was progressive. That is how the separation of the area began. They spread out over the acreage and established adjourning settlements: Willow Grove, Willow Estates, and the beginning settlement, Willow Creek. The area bloomed into existence as Willow Bend Settlements. Although, with different personalities, strife would rear its head, they settled it among themselves.

    In other words, through all adversity, one hand learned to wash the other. The adversity created strength in them as a community. After all, they were of the same body. Many joyous events took place as well as the bad taste of some bitter pills in which most of the residents found hard to swallow. Endurance in those days, regardless of whatever the circumstances, was a virtue. This book begins with a prologue, a group of men sitting together, relating various incidents, and circumstances, of their life in the Willows. The short stories are told in a form as if reliving the various moments. My hope is for your reading to be inspiring, encouraging, educational, and a bit enjoyable. Although I love to write Christian plays telling Christ’s birth, suffering, death, and resurrection, he gave me the Willows. It harbors a place upon my heart. Thanks for reading. History: He that would know what shall be must consider what hath been.

    —Ancient Proverb

    Chapter 1

    Introduction To The Willows

    peasant.jpg

    Era upon era has seen the heart and soul of rural American people rendering joy, pain, disappointment, love, and spirituality through humor and song. It revealed various emotions of the heart. It had lurid attempts at stripping the hope embedded deeply into the crevices of one’s soul. Jack speaks as he blends together the pieces of cane for a chair. One could hear them humming as the smell of homemade corn bread was permeating the air. He made a whistling sound through the gap in his teeth as he related the story. Granny shelled black-eyed peas to help complete the evening meal. Jake, sat in companionable silence, was laying the cane to dry. His brother, Caleb, breathlessly, sighed.

    What a memory, he said. He stripped the cane into flat strips, laying them aside. Jacob, known as Jake, was the owner of the recently established caning shop.

    The men began to hum softly. Jacob and Jack went about the chore of feeding the pigs. The young boys milked the cows or built coups for the chickens. No words were necessary to reveal what was upon each man’s heart. Each one of them silently felt the presence of the other. Caleb, Slappy, Elijah addressed them. This was an era of depression and hardship. A time of little to nothing but dust in your pockets. A time when love and spiritual expression was heard through a song. Oh yes, celebrities sang, played, and caught in a mournful air. There were happy tunes in soul-piercing notes. Songs eased the pain, lifted the spirit of their audience. Lena Horne’s Stormy Monday and the old spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I See rang out from many windows.

    Maybe, there were a few with an old model T, like Lucille and Jack’s boy Zebulon. Some of them, Slappy Muldoon being an example, had a run-down wagon and one mule.

    Yes, with that wagon, he carried the load of his existence. I hauled the wood, seed for planting, hay for feeding of the animals, and sold fertilizer to surrounding communities. It carried all of my earthly belongings when I moved from place to place, seeking work at harvest time. This was before I had enough saved to buy my small fertilizer farm.

    As the morning sun rose in the eastern sky, peaked in the noon day, and began to sink into the fading shadows of the evening, people worked. Old Clem’s voice sounded out in soulful notes of the song Swing Low Sweet Chariot. The birds seemed to pick up on his tune. They chirped right along with him. Mary Laura sat in the rocker, waving her fan back and forth to abate the temperature of ninety degrees with no breeze in the air. Her mind removed a discouraging thought of a day hotter than the cook fires under her grandma’s wash pot. A pleasing note tickled her vocal chords.

    Crawfish Bob complained to Jake that his wife Rosie Nozeblume, the town’s busybody, ruin of all in the valley, with her flapping tongue. She wields it like a sharp two-edged sword. Jake told him that he could lend a deaf ear to her yak, yak when he reached the back door and smelled Rosie’s fried chicken on the stove. She would drop that huge ham hock into the cook pot. Lord, Lord, he said, good eating tonight. He smacked his lips.

    The Willows is a continuing saga into the author’s fictional concept of a realistic scenario. It depicts a way of life for a few people. As the south wind traveled north, it whistled through the drooping leaves of the willows that edged Myers Creek. A rabbit jumped from the brush and scampered across the soft crushed bark at Slappy’s fertilizer farm. Slappy’s old mule wiggled his ears at the fluttering sound. He seemed to want to tell the poor little bunny to beware. Jack’s hound dog was sniffing around, only ten feet from where he stood. If caught, that little bunny would make a mean rabbit stew.

    Several of the women were sitting under the big elm tree that set in Sue Nash’s yard. A week did not end without the neighbors sharing chores together. One week ago, they were all sitting on the nice cool porch at Vera’s, sipping lemonade as they worked. The neighbors worked, laughed, sang. They read scriptures and prayed together. This, they knew from their experience, comforted a confused mind. It often uplifted a downtrodden spirit. It was a solvent for many of their problems. It was consolation to their souls.

    Slim from the barber shop stepped into the store, burlap bag in hand. He was anxious to hear whatever news his neighbors and friends had to offer. Sally, his wife, needed supplies for their home. She longed more for a mouth savoring tidbit of who did what, where, and when. Slim never divulged one word of it after leaving the store. Good morning, Jackson, he said cheerily. He saved the morsels for the fellows when they visited the barber shop. Top of the morning to you, said Jackson, glancing up at him. Come right on in, and set up your place where you see convenient. The clerk should be here shortly. The children probably delayed her progress this mornin’. He continued to bag the bushel of fresh peanuts that Slappy brought into the store. Jackson kept the small bags of fresh peanuts atop a large barrel. Some of the neighbors loved to drink a cool bottle of Coca-Cola while munching from a bag of peanuts. The doorbell jangled, and he looked up. Foley, who owned the mechanic shop next door, entered.

    Hey, fellows! Foley made his presence known with his customary greeting. There were times when several people would answer with the same greeting. The day would seem empty without his cheerful hello. He looked from one to the other of his friends. How is all of my good neighbors this mornin’? It sure is a beautiful mornin’. The birds are singin’ happy tunes, squirrels scampered about the trees to your roof, Jackson. He slapped his hands and rubbed them in anticipation of his morning chat with his friends. Did you feed them from that window? Foley asked. They are chatterin’ away.

    Hello, Foley, Jack greeted him. I wondered the very same thing when I stepped into the door a few moments ago. Come on in. They all chuckled heartily in greeting. Jackson’s place would not be comfortable without the banter of the day. They made his place come alive by congregating there during the week. These were his friends, neighbors. Foley handed over the bowl of fresh butter to Jackson. His wife Bettie Sue, churned, and pat the smooth into butter. People came to the store to purposely pick up a dish of Bettie Sue’s > butter. Caleb told him that she probably had a special ingredient to feed her Jersey cow.

    The butter melted upon biscuits, like ice cream over a fresh baked pound cake. Yes, Caleb said to him. You are right. I believe that I saw your wife, Bettie Sue, getting her mornin’ chores done when I passed your place, Foley.

    Foley smoothed his hand against his overalls, his usual attire, while working in the shop. Old Lula has been gracious with her milk this week. Bettie Sue likes to get an early start with the churnin’. He rubbed the whiskers on his chin.

    Hey, Caleb! Rube Warren called to his friend as he stepped across the hole in the floorboard. The pine knot was hanging by a splinter below the hole. He turned back to look through the hole. Chickens were walking around below the floorboards. The thought came to mind that Jackson more than likely fed them through the hole. He coerced them into eating there. This kept those birds from walking through the back door or jumping through the side window looking for food. Otherwise, Jackson would have replaced the plank.

    Here I am, Rube roared in likeness of Tator’s mule over a bucket of oats. Willing hands and heart were the epitome of his character. I am ready to begin work. Hello, everyone. Minnie sent this corn bread. Add it to our meal for dinner. Happily, he handed over his contribution for the noon fest gathering.

    Good, Elijah said. This is developing into a feast. We will have a productive morning just thinking on what is for dinner. He placed the pan of corn bread on the table. A few crumbs were around the top edge. He sampled them. Um-m-m. This must have a tap of Betty Sue butter mixed into it. He smacked his lips, savoring the crumbs. He felt like Lazareth on baking day. Each of them knew one another’s wives’ cooking by the taste. Hello! Coming in! Jackson yelled from behind the counter. Enter, my friend. He lifted the bushel of corn and hefted it to a corner stand. Looking, both friends greeted the professor with a cheerful hello. Hm-m, Papmyer sniffed. Minnie’s corn bread.

    Hush! the others chorused. Which was exactly what occurred. Not one of them spoke for several seconds. Seemingly, a pronounced quiet set a stillness in the room. Peace was a conscious practice. Without uttering a vocal word, Caleb began to hum. Foley cleared his throat and began to speak in a slow solemn tone of voice. It was time now for their reminiscence, meditation and song.

    It revealed emotions of the heart without stripping the hope embedded deeply into the crevices of one’s soul." He began sorting the basket of corn Elijah had set in the corner of the room. His friends blended their voices softly in harmony.

    Rubin began speaking. One could hear them humming as the smell of homemade corn bread was permeating the air. He sniffed the air, imitating his friend, Papmyer. Granny shelled black-eyed peas to help complete the evening meal, he said. He began to separate the dried ears of corn from the fresh bushel.

    Several men entered the store and began to blend their voices in harmony. Malcolm removed his hat and addressed them. "Men, it was the era of hardship and depression.

    A time of little to nothing but dust in your pockets. He sat in the cane backed chair and placed his straw hat upon his knee. He continued to speak. A time when love and spiritual expressions were heard through a song."

    Agreeing, Caleb said. Oh, yes. Celebrities sang and played mournful or happy tunes in soul-piercing notes. It eased the pain, lifted the spirit of their captivated audience.

    Caleb began his falsetto low then elevated it to assert his point.

    Thinking about the conversation, Jackson removed the broom straw from his mouth. It was a habit of his, chewing on a straw. There may have been a few with an old model T, but some had a run-down wagon and one mule. Men loaded implements in a wagon and carried the load of his existence. They hauled the wood, seed for planting, hay for feeding of the animals. It carried all of his belongings when he moved from place to place, seeking work at harvest time.

    Malcolm remembered it well. The morning sun rose in the eastern sky, peaked at noon of day, and began to sink into the fading shadows of the evening, people worked. One could hear old Clem ring out a soulful note. Malcolm resounded in his bass to blend in with Jackson as he hummed his tenor. He raised his eyes toward the heaven, savoring the moment.

    Caleb recalled, Mama Sallie Ann, lifted her head, made even swift strokes across the floor with her broom. She sang from the depths of her heart. Caleb’s thoughts swam over the memory. Oh, how she would sing praises to her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

    It was through Christ that such were the roots of their soul’s dependence. No person was afraid or ashamed to express those spiritual emotions.

    With a soft chuckle, Jackson told them. Winter would seep through to the skin. He pictured on the outer perimeters of his mind, Brother Miles. Keeping in time with the off beat of his singing. Miles walked to the one dollar a day job, cleaning bolls and trash from the gin each day. He placed two or three old coats on his body and wrapped a kerchief about his neck. Winds would blow sharp like the bite of a bee’s sting. He plucked a floppy felt that on his head and sang from the depths of his heart until his job was done." They spoke in soulful reminiscence of the era of the times.

    Caleb could hear the note escalating in the back of his mind. Hm-m-m. It was a manner of communicating to not be understood by anyone with exception of the one to whom we’re speaking with. No one could clearly determine what a mind was thinking. Displaying a smile, Caleb recalled how many spirits were lifted as Skooter Brown tapped a jig on the barn’s floorboards. Lefty Harvey’s agile fingers strummed a playful tune on the guitar. A usual pattern was passed from the second and third generation removed to the fourth

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