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thebutchknownaselaine · 4 years ago

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I've been working on a period piece series that I would love to share with you. This is the first book. None of the books have anything linking them together aside from the fact they are period pieces set in the 1870s, 1960s and 1980s. All of these decade were big whether in the lgbt community or within the black and native american communities. Or both.

The first is set in the 1870s. The main protagonists are a native american woman named Alice Covington and a butch named Peter "Pete" Quaid disguised as a man which was much more common back then than people would like to think. It is about their journey to catch the gang who ruined Alice's peaceful life. She and her brother hire a bounty hunter, famed as being a headstrong, determined lawman who always catches his man. Little does Alice know, Peter holds his own darkened past and secrets that entangle their journey, weaving a path of adventure and stunning self growth.

I read a lot of period pieces over the years but recently came across several articles discussing women who disguised themselves as men back then. I also read a lot of articles on netive american and black american lives back then and the struggles they face in a post Civil War America.

This book is very much fiction but I like to pull from history as well and pay homage to those who came before me to pave the way for my bright future. It is incomplete as I am still working on it, but I have published two chapters so far and have fifteen written in all. Please give it a look if you have any free time and thank you!

Here's a snippet from the novel:

August 25th, 1873, Madison County, Montana

Alice tightened the leather of her saddle in the cinch ring, then threaded the strap back up to the back saddle ring. It had been quite some time since she had last ridden Opie and he seemed rearing to get going on their ride.

She was just as eager to go as Opie appeared but Alice also knew the journey ahead would be hard. Harder than anything she had ever…

That’s not true. I have dealt with much more difficult things. I can do this!

“Would you like some help, ma’am?” A husky voice called from behind her and she spun around with a yelp.

Alice had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t even heard Mr. Quaid walking up. He stiffened and stared down at her uneasily. His face held the most peculiar grimace Alice had ever seen. Being this close to him again was a bit...odd. Pete didn’t smell like the other men, even smelled a bit of cinnamon, and Pete’s face, obviously cleanly shaved every morning, was so unscathed. Aside from a few facial scars, he just wasn’t the ruffian she had expected to meet when her brother regaled stories of Pete’s legendary travels.

He wasn’t much taller than Alice herself but held himself in a way that was graceful and poised. It told her he had probably come from money so why on earth would Pete decide to be a bounty hunter? It wasn’t exactly an easy life, not that life was ever easy, but he was a good looking white man. Pete could have done anything with his life but had become…

Well, it’s not my place to judge…

Still, Alice’s suspicions got the better of her and she turned away from him with a huff. She had never needed a man to help her ready her saddle and Alice wouldn’t be needing one now.

Her father had raised her to be a self sufficient woman. Alice knew how to shoot and ride better than more than half of the men she had met in her life and Mr. Quaid would be no exception to that rule. Men weren’t something she felt a necessity unless they were a part of her family and it wasn’t like she had ever been attracted to one. As much as she craved intimacy and yearned to find a reputable man even a fraction of a bit comparable to the men of her family, she did not expect to ever find such a man. Especially not now that… Alice shook her head from the clouds and sighed.

“No, thank you, sir. I can manage just fine on my own.”

“Yes’m.”

Alice turned and looked over her shoulder to find him still standing there watching her. Well, watching her was an exaggeration, or rather, the wrong way to explain the look on his face. Pete shifted in place and crossed his arms over his chest as he examined Alice’s skirt with a grimace.

“Is there something else you needed, Mr-”

“Pete.” He interrupted but kept his eyes glued to her petticoat. “Just Pete's fine, ma’am, but...are you plannin’ on riding in that?”

Now that the pleasantries of yesterday were over, Alice had found herself growing more and more irritated with not only Pete but herself. He would comment on what they could expect from their travels as if he was trying to scare Alice into not joining them after all, even though he had been the first to agree to it. Now Pete was picking at her clothing, staring at her as if he had just eaten the most tart jam in the world.

All of these men are alike. Why did I get my hopes up that he would be any different?

Alice tried to shed her annoyance, determined not to let it get the best of herself and turned back to settling her saddle. Opie shifted a bit, picking up on her change in attitude and she ran a soothing caress down his neck. Alice looked back over her shoulder at Pete once more and found him staring at her hand.

He audibly gulped and his burly neck muscles tensed. Alice caught herself staring at them and noticed they weren’t nearly as taut as she originally thought. They had a softness to them and Alice had to lock her hands behind her back to stop from reaching out, giving Pete the same gentle strokes she had just given Opie.

With the shake of her head, Alice finished readying her saddle and turned around, mimicking Pete’s stance. “Is there a problem with the way I am dressed, Mr. Quaid?”

“I said it's Pete. Don't call me that.” Pete snapped as he tightened his arms over his chest. He shivered but the weather was warm and sunny out so he couldn’t have been cold. Not to mention that it was August, one of the hottest months of the year. What is wrong with him? “Only my father goes by Mr. Quaid and I am not him. Also,” He waved his hand at her dress, then replaced it back in its hiding place. “That dress will only get in the way. Do you not have any split riding skirts?”

“No, I ride side saddle.”

Pete shook his head and took his hat off, letting it hang against his back. His short blonde locks tussled in the wind and he ran his hand through it leaving it in a less than modest state. Astonished that unlike the men Alice knew Peter didn’t seem to really care about his appearance, she ran her eyes over his body once more.

Pete had a strong, strapping build but wasn’t as big as most men his height. His arm muscles seemed to curve perfectly and were finely toned as they poked out past his rolled up sleeves. All of his clothing was either white or brown in color and he was, for lack of a better word, plain. It wasn’t that Pete wasn’t handsome but there was nothing about him that spoke to Alice as a woman and she didn’t understand why such a delightful woman like Hany would bother accompanying him all over the country.

Alice peered up at Pete’s face and looked a bit closer, finding more than just the long scar that dressed his cheek down to his chin. He held one more scar above his right eye that was partially covered by his eyebrows and another just underneath his bottom lip. Pete didn’t seem old enough to have fought in the war, so what had caused such lingering scars on his otherwise soft looking skin? How old was he again? Alice couldn’t seem to remember.

And how is his skin so smooth? For a man who is on the road most of his time, how is his face so gentle?

The scars began to make a bit of sense the longer she thought of Walt’s wild stories of Mr. Quaid but it still didn’t explain why his tanned skin looked so untarnished by the usual weary lines men held after spending so much time in the sun. Was he really the man he claimed to be?

Well Pete had to be with someone like Hany backing up his claim. Alice couldn’t imagine her lying for this man but there was just something about Pete that was...off.

“No, you aren't.” Pete told her. He looked over her dress again, then pulled out the knife strapped to his belt. It was a Bowie, just as Alice’s brother's knife, and she instinctively backed up into Opie. Pete froze and held his hands up, dropping the knife to the ground. “It's okay. I was just goin’ to cut a slit in your dress. If you ride side saddle as far as we're goin’, you could slip and hurt yourself and…” He rubbed the back of his head and winced like her recoil had caused him physical pain. “I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Oh…” Alice had no idea how to reply. On one hand, Pete had been disrupting her emotions and she didn’t like to be anything short of level headed. On the other, he was now showing worry for her well being and already keeping true to his promise of looking out for her before they had even started their ride. Alice bent down and picked up his knife, then handed it to him. “Please, go ahead, Mr… Um, Pete.”

The smallest hints of a smile tugged on Pete’s lips and he scurried forward to take the knife from her as Alice turned its hilt toward him. She shyly let go as Pete tipped his head. He knelt down in front of her and took the bottom of her dress into his gloved hands. The soft material wouldn’t obey him and he grunted before removing his gloves with his teeth.

Oh my lord!

Pete’s hands were covered in scars. Some looked like burns while others looked as though large rocks had crushed them at some point. Alice suppressed her gasp and darted her eyes over Pete’s hands as he took her dress into them again. He peered up at her with a timidness she hadn’t seen before. All the time Pete sat in her brother’s office and even when he and Hany had stayed for dinner, he hadn’t removed his gloves.

That must have been so painful… No wonder he speaks of not wanting others hurt.

Alice put her hand to her forehead and rubbed it in frustration. Pete hadn’t been trying to scare her off yesterday evening at supper when he explained the terrors of the less traveled roads or of when he mentioned what passing through indian country held for them. He had only mentioned…

I just do not want you to get hurt. That is what he said at dinner and just now… How could I have been so...so…

“Are you alright, ma’am? I didn't nick your leg, did I?” Peter broke through her thoughts and Alice looked down at him finding a deep blush across his cheeks.

“No, Pete. I'm perfectly fine. I apologize if-”

“No need to apologize, ma-”

“Alice.” She interjected with a firm gaze. “If you want me to call you Pete and we are going to be together all this time, then I would like for you to call me by my first name as well, please.”

Pete opened and closed his mouth several times, then swallowed a mouthful of air with a stiff nod. He went back to cutting her dress. Once he had enough of the trim cut, Pete set down the knife and began to rip the skirt further up her leg. Soon enough, Alice’s knickers were exposed and she watched as the blush that was just on Pete’s face seconds before, stretched across the back of his neck and his ears.

Pete kept his eyes glued to her boots and rose, grabbing his knife from the ground on the way up. With a small nod and eyes that wouldn’t meet hers, he turned and walked away as quickly as his long legs would carry him. Pete may not have been as handsome as many other men she had known, and definitely not as handsome as papa, but the way he carried himself and the steadfastness in his resolve were all things Alice knew she would find herself looking at from time to time once they got going.

Give me strength…

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