The Upstream Writer: April 2026

We passed by several homesteads until we came to a small house set very close to the road. A quaint white picket fence surrounded the yard--which was tiny, compared to the vast pastures of the other properties--and the house itself was painted a cheery butter-yellow.

Jerry reached over the low gate to release the latch. "Home sweet home," he murmured.

I followed, the sight of everything tickling my memory, the same as with Phantasm and the space ship. I knew I had come across an idea for a Western--if only I could place it!

Three sturdy steps up to the porch, and Jerry opened the door and led me inside, removing his hat as he did.

"That you, Jerry?" called a feminine voice from at least two rooms away.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called back.

With a swooshing of petticoats, a woman sailed into the room, and it was all I could do not to gasp aloud. This definitely had to be one of my stories I was living through I had most certainly seen her face somewhere before! Knowing me, I probably based her appearance on some actress I had recently seen--but who? And what significance did she have, that she would be the only familiar person I'd met so far?
By the time her expression changed, and she stopped just shy of greeting her husband, I realized I had probably been staring for a little too long.

"Oh," she set down the dishtowel she'd been using to wipe her hands. "Jerry," she murmured, edging closer to him without taking her eyes of of me, "who is this?"

He reached both arms to wrap her in a hug and lean in for a kiss. "In a moment, dear." He kissed her tenderly, and when they pulled away from each other, she watched his face searchingly.

"What happened? I knew there had been a ruckus, because I could hear it from way out here. Jerry--"

"Nothing happened," he assured his wife. "Just a bit of a dustup with some of Tom's boys. No one got hurt. This one especially," he turned to me with a grin. "I was passing by just in time to pull her out of the path of a wagon. Shirley, I want you to meet Laura. Laura, this is my wife, Shirley Coldwell."
Her sparkling hazel eyes melted from fear and confusion into genuine warmth as she smiled at me. I had to admire the firm honey-golden hue of her hair, and the way it stayed in perfect curls at the nape of her neck.

"Pleased to meet you, Laura," she said, holding out her hand.

I shook it. "The feeling is mutual."

She hesitated, playing with the cuff of her billowing cream-colored blouse. "Begging pardon, but your clothes seem, um, comfortable," she remarked, making a point, I felt, not to stare too long.

I could understand why; probably from her standpoint, my single layer of clothing was tantamount to standing there in my underwear!

Before I could answer, Jerry gave a short cough. "Shirley-belle, I was hoping that you might be able to lend Laura a couple dresses, at least for the time being; it looks like she'll be staying with us a while, and I want to make sure she doesn't feel out of place among us." If I didn't know any better, I would say that he might have just called me some kind of alien--but then again, I owned that such an assumption was as close to the truth as anyone would ever get, so I let it slide.

"Oh!" Shirley blinked. "Of course," she gave me a sympathetic smile. "Come with me, I'll show you the guest room and bring you some things."

[...]

[Shirley] returned with her arms full of calico and checked fabrics.
"We are just about the same size, I think," she said. "These are some of last year's dresses; a bit worn, but they'll do nicely, I think!" She picked up a dress with tiny pink rosebuds on a field of forest-green. "Like this one." She held it under my chin. "Ooh!" she gushed. "Laura, I think this is definitely the color for you! Try it on!"
The sleeves came down to my elbow, and puffed out at the shoulder. By folding up the sleeve of my jumpsuit back up to my shoulder, I could slip the dress on over it and no one would be the wiser.
Before I could put it on, though, Shirley pulled out a series of wooden hoops covered by a voluminous linen petticoat.
"Here, you'll need this to keep the skirts from getting underfoot."
I stared askance at the contraption. "Oh no," I said. "Where I'm from, we don't really need those things--"
Shirley's eyebrows came straight up her forehead. "Don't need them? Yes, and I suppose most girls in this strange place of yours walk around in long underwear as you do!" She gave a little laugh and placed a hand on my arm. "Don't you worry, Laura; I've been wearing hoops ever since I was a little girl. I know exactly how to tie them so you won't feel a thing!"
Meekly, I acquiesced to her recommendation, and after the hoops came the dress, which proved to consist of a lot more fabric than I anticipated.
Shirley finished fastening the row of tiny buttons along my spine, and gave my shoulders an excited little push.
"Oh, turn around, I want to see it!" she begged.
I did, and though there was no mirror, the glowing grin on her face was enough. She was right about the hoops, too. The skirt of the dress hung gracefully over it, and the lace trim just barely skimmed the floor as I took a few practice steps.
"Oh my stars, don't you look like a fine young lady now!" she gasped.

[...]

Speaking of where you come from," Jerry broke the silence with the words that made my skin go all cold and clammy. "I don't believe you ever explained to me where precisely that is. I know it's not the State Penitentiary--so where are you really from, Laura?" He rested his elbows on the arm rests and leaned his fingertips against one another, like a long, peaked roof.

[...]

"As you say, I haven't come from a very long ways away," I said. "I only started walking this morning, from my family's home in the bluffs," I jerked my thumb in the correct direction. "We've lived there pretty much on our own for a few years, until..." I let my voice fade off as if tortured by the memory of something traumatic--but what was really torturing me in that moment was trying to come up with a suitable scenario that made sense for a girl like me, dressed like I was, to be walking all by herself in the cliffs!

"Until what?" Jerry challenged. He wasn't going to let me off easy. "Did Big Tom and his bandits raid your homestead in the mountains?"

I nodded, still keeping the pitiful expression on my face. The manufactured tale came tumbling out of my mouth. "They attacked just the other night, just as we were sitting down to dinner. Father heard shouting, and went to see what was the matter, and when he opened the door, there was our modest vegetable garden, in flames. He grabbed the gun and went out to defend himself, while Mother and I hid in a room at the back of the house. We heard gunshots, and the next thing we know, the bandits are swarming the house, looting and looking for us." I forced myself to picture this fictional scene, playing up the drama to produce the expected emotional response. I kept my eyes wide, testifying to the horror of it all. "Of course they came into the room and knew we were there right away, but Mother stood up to them. She burst out of our hiding place, yelled at me to run, and grabbed the kerosene lantern by the bed, smashing it on the floor." I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and I just kept thinking about how I would feel if I witnessed my own parents, dying at the hands of a bunch of heartless thugs. "Everything else that happened that night was a blur. I got out of the house while the bandits were all shouting at the fire that was spreading all over the place. I remember seeing the horses waiting for the riders, and although I hadn't really ever ridden a horse before, I know I did try." I took a deep, calming breath, and continued. "It's a lot harder than it looks in the movies, to just get up and ride a horse, let me tell you! It wasn't a few yards before the horse bucked me off, and I had to run the rest of the way, to get away from those bandits and the burning house and my dead parents..." I blinked and returned to the present scenario, which honestly didn't seem any more real than the story I'd just made up in my head. "And at last I found my way to Phantom Gulch, where you saved my life from a runaway wagon."

Jerry, who hadn't said a word this whole time, waited until we were seated and Shirley filled our plates to finally respond.

"That was some tale, Laura," he began slowly, and I wondered if I had made a mistake in assuming he would believe such a wild story. "I am most impressed at how you can come through all of that relatively unharmed. I just have one question." Uh-oh! Here it came; had I put in too much detail, or not enough?

Jerry locked eyes with me over his steaming plate and asked. "What is this movies you mentioned, and what does it have to do with riding a horse?"

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A Writer's Tale Featured Excerpts:

Book 1--The Dragon's Quest: "START HERE" ---- "The Hunt Before Nightfall" ---- "An Underwater Rescue" ---- "A Dragon and His Name" ---- "Loose the Gryphon"