Sunday snippet
May. 11th, 2014 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdJust a little taste of something I'm working on. It's up over 22,000. Just 28,000 more to go
From The Sweet Science of Bruising:
“Anyone dare to come in face me?” he dared the crowd, looking into their faces and offering. He struck a pose in a few feet down from Lillian. “Come on, you lily-livered, pox-rotted bastards. Anyone who can stand in here for half an hour gets a thousand dollars, cash money.”
No one volunteered to duck under the ropes. Lillian felt an odd urge to do so rising in her. She squelched it with firm logic. Big George couldn't fight this man. And she knew nothing of fighting at all. Still, thoughts of ducking in, punching him very scientifically--belly, groin, temple and ear, just as she had once seen in a drawing of vulnerable points in a book--and knocking him down amused her for a moment.
“But you're a bunch of water-hearted weaklings, not fit to try drinking with a real Irishman, never you mind fighting with one.” He called out the bigger men in the crowd. But when he reached Lillian, he paused and dropped the fists. “Here's a little boy come to see the fights. I wouldn't be asking you into the ring, lad, oh no. But I've a fine bunk in the wagon that needs filling.”
The men around her laughed and Mr. Jordan's hand shoved in the small of her back, slamming her into the ropes. She bit down on the gasp and made no sound. Instead, she looked up at The Belfast Assassin with as much fury as she could put in her eyes and her jaw set firm.
She elbowed back against Mr. Jordan, giving herself some breathing room, shook off and stood back. She gave Turlough a little incline of her head.
“He's brave enough. Come back when you've grown, son, and we'll give it a try.” Turlough swung a very slow, playful punch at her jaw and Lillian met it. He didn't hurt her, his hand barely grazed her chin. “Brave lad,” Turlough repeated and moved along, calling out the bigger men to come and fight him for real money.
From The Sweet Science of Bruising:
“Anyone dare to come in face me?” he dared the crowd, looking into their faces and offering. He struck a pose in a few feet down from Lillian. “Come on, you lily-livered, pox-rotted bastards. Anyone who can stand in here for half an hour gets a thousand dollars, cash money.”
No one volunteered to duck under the ropes. Lillian felt an odd urge to do so rising in her. She squelched it with firm logic. Big George couldn't fight this man. And she knew nothing of fighting at all. Still, thoughts of ducking in, punching him very scientifically--belly, groin, temple and ear, just as she had once seen in a drawing of vulnerable points in a book--and knocking him down amused her for a moment.
“But you're a bunch of water-hearted weaklings, not fit to try drinking with a real Irishman, never you mind fighting with one.” He called out the bigger men in the crowd. But when he reached Lillian, he paused and dropped the fists. “Here's a little boy come to see the fights. I wouldn't be asking you into the ring, lad, oh no. But I've a fine bunk in the wagon that needs filling.”
The men around her laughed and Mr. Jordan's hand shoved in the small of her back, slamming her into the ropes. She bit down on the gasp and made no sound. Instead, she looked up at The Belfast Assassin with as much fury as she could put in her eyes and her jaw set firm.
She elbowed back against Mr. Jordan, giving herself some breathing room, shook off and stood back. She gave Turlough a little incline of her head.
“He's brave enough. Come back when you've grown, son, and we'll give it a try.” Turlough swung a very slow, playful punch at her jaw and Lillian met it. He didn't hurt her, his hand barely grazed her chin. “Brave lad,” Turlough repeated and moved along, calling out the bigger men to come and fight him for real money.
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no subject
Date: 2014-05-12 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-12 05:44 pm (UTC)It's got a June 1 deadline, and I'm hoping one specific publisher takes it, but I have a couple of backups.
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Date: 2014-05-12 05:50 pm (UTC)The D-Man Checks In
Date: 2014-05-12 08:14 pm (UTC)This being The Wild West, if word gets out that this traveling show is packing around that kind of loose cash, they'd be asking to get ambushed & robbed on the trail between gigs. 4 masked gunmen on fast horses? $10,000 each (adjusted) for a nice take, plus anything else of value in the wagons? Out in the middle of sagebrush & tumbleweed nowhere, where nobody is going to hear any screams or gunshots? Shoot all the witnesses after you rob them so nobody talks? Easy money...
NOT A GOOD THING!
Bear in mind, this is the time when a man could get a shave and a hair-cut for 25 cents, and a full mug of beer for a nickel. What does any of that go or today?
Advise a purse of $50 ($2000 in today's money), which would still be a considerable lot, which many men would risk a broken nose and/or losing a tooth to get.
Then -- so the readers can appreciate just how much that princely sum was in this time period -- have the main character quietly marvel to herself at what all she could buy for that $50 in this time period.
Re: The D-Man Checks In
Date: 2014-05-13 03:29 am (UTC)The idea is that the prize is absurdly large, more money than most people saw in a year. And they almost assuredly don't have that much money. $60/month was decent cow-poke wages. Lillian pays her maid and housekeeper $20 a week, and that is expensive.
I know that 5 lbs of flour cost 14c, and a dozen eggs was 20c and you could buy 8 lbs of round steak for a dollar. A pint and two thins (pint of beer and two slices of buttered bread) was 2 cents in Boston, while pigs' feet went 2 for a nickel. I have DONE my homework.
The amount is deliberate, but you make a good point about robbers. That will be dealt with.