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Quote by Linda Weaver Clarke

“Rick raised his brow. “Who were you talking to?” “Millie.” “Is she that tall woman you met the other day?” Amelia nodded. “She’s our new client.” “New client?” Rick’s brow rose with disbelief as he sat up straight. “You’re working on our honeymoon? No way! Don’t tell me you were promoting our business.” “Hey! It’s not my fault,” defended Amelia. “She just walked up to me and asked for help. I couldn’t refuse her. She needs us.” “How did she know you were a P.I.?” Amelia pursed her lips tightly to prevent a smile. “Umm… You see… I… Well…”

Quote by Linda Weaver Clarke

Book:Mystery on the Bayou
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Mystery on the Bayou

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Linda Weaver Clarke

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“The forest was dense, and filled with all manner of vines and rank undergrowth; the road was a vague opening, where obstructing trees had been felled, the stumps and rotten trunks remaining. Across actual quags a track of logs and saplings had been laid, but long ago, now rotten and in broken patches. As far as the eye could reach, muddy water, sent back by a south wind from the gulf, extended over the vast flat before us, to a depth of from two to six feet, as per immediate personal measurement. We spurred in. One foot: Two feet, with hard bottom: Belly-deep, hard bottom: Shoulder-deep, soft bottom: Shoulder-deep, with a sucking mire: The same, with a network of roots, in which a part of the legs are entangled, while the rest are plunging. The same, with a middle ground of loose poles; a rotten log, on which we rise dripping, to slip forward next moment, head under, haunches in air. It is evident we have reached one of the spots it would have been better to avoid.”

JourneyLouisianaBayouPioneerLouisiana BayouSwampOlmsted
Book:A Journey through Texas: Or a Saddle-Trip on the Southwestern Frontier
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“The horses, reluctant and excited from the first, become furious and wild. At the next shoal-personal nastiness being past consideration-we dismount, at knee-deep, to give them a moment's rest, shifting the mule's saddle to the trembling long-legged mare, and turning Mr. Brown loose, to follow as he could. After a breathing-spell we resume our splashed seats and the line of wade. Experience has taught us something, and we are more shrewd in choice of footing, the slopes around large trees being attractively high ground, until, by a stumble on a covered root, a knee is nearly crushed against a cypress trunk. Gullies now commence, cut by the rapid course of waters flowing off before north winds, in which it is good luck to escape instant drowning. Then quag again; the pony bogs; the mare, quivering and unmanageable, jumps sidelong among loose corduroy; and here are two riders standing waist-deep in mud and water between two frantic, plunging-horses, fortunately not beneath them. Nack soon extricates himself, and joins the mule, looking on terrified from behind. Fanny, delirious, believes all her legs broken and strewn about her, and falls, with a whining snort, upon her side. With incessant struggles she makes herself a mud bath, in which, with blood-shot eyes, she furiously rotates, striking, now and then, some stump, against which she rises only to fall upon the other side, or upon her back, until her powers are exhausted, and her head sinks beneath the surface. Mingled with our uppermost sympathy are thoughts of the soaked note-books, and other contents of the saddle-bags, and of the.hundred dollars that drown with her. What of dense soil there was beneath her is now stirred to porridge, and it is a dangerous exploit to approach. But, with joint hands, we length succeed in grappling her bridle, and then in hauling her nostrils above water. She revives only for a new tumult of dizzy pawing, before which we hastily retreat. At a second pause her lariat is secured, and the saddle cut adrift. For a half-hour the alternate resuscitation continues, until we are able to drag the head of the poor beast, half strangled by the rope, as well as the mud and water, toward firmer ground, where she recovers slowly her senses and her footing. Any further attempts at crossing the somewhat "wet" Neches bottoms are, of course, abandoned, and even the return to the ferry is a serious sort of joke. However, we congratulate ourselves that we are leaving, not entering the State.”

JourneyLouisianaHorsesDrownBayouPioneerLouisiana BayouSwampOlmsted
Book:A Journey through Texas: Or a Saddle-Trip on the Southwestern Frontier
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“Luna, a figure sculpted from the very heart of the Louisiana bayou, stood as the focal point of the glade. Her existence seemed interwoven with the very fabric of the swamp, a living embodiment of its mysteries and resilience. Her deep eyes, pools of ancient knowledge that seemed to hold the secrets of generations past, pierced through the assembled gathering, reading the intentions and desires etched on each face. Nothing could be hidden from Luna; she saw through facades and touched the raw, untamed truth within each soul. Tonight, she was dressed to honor the union of Elara and Declan, a sacred duty held with the utmost reverence. Her indigo dress, hand-dyed with pigments extracted from the swamp flora and adorned with symbolic beadwork depicting the creatures of the swamp - the watchful alligators, the nimble herons, the elusive panthers - spoke of her heritage and her sacred role as a conduit between the human and spirit realms. The intricate patterns were more than mere decoration; they were a visual prayer, a testament to the delicate balance of life within the bayou's embrace.”

Ancient WisdomLunaLouisiana BayouSpiritual GuideBayou FolkloreCeremonial AttireIntuitive SightNature EmbodimentSwamp MysticSymbolic Beadwork
Book:Under The Blood Moon
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