Name’s Harl Adams. I was born, raised and live in Harrisville, Kentucky in the southeastern part of the state. It’s pretty with rolling hills and mountains. I own and work the family apple orchard on our land. I enjoy the work. It keeps me occupied and helps keep my mind from thinking over things that happened and that I done in the war of the states. I’m not proud of what I done—killing men for the cause, but it’s what orders made me do. My father and me was on our way to sign up to enlist for the north when some renegade southern sympathizers cut him down. He took a bullet to the heart and dropped right there beside me. He was dead before he hit the dirt. I still have nightmares about it and headaches. I take each day as it comes and I don’t want to talk about that part of my life anymore.
I live on the old homestead with my mother. She keeps an eye on me and me on her. She’s a sweet woman. She keeps hoping that when I marry I’ll settle down on the place with her. Marriage is the furthest thing on my mind. I haven’t been lucky in that way. Every time I find me a girl, she up and marries someone else. I’ve been in love twice in my life. One time to a girl I went to school with and one time to the new school teacher. Maybe the Lord don’t have marriage in the books for me. Then again I hope that ain’t the case.
The other day I met a woman come down from Michigan to marry up with that town scoundrel, Cletus Tooth. She didn’t know what a scoundrel he was or she wouldn’t a come all this way. He took one look at her size and left her and her trunk standing on the train platform. Cletus threw her picture in the dirt at my feet as I was loading sacks of grain for the animals on the farm. He told me he left her there and didn’t want no part of her. So, I went over to the train depot and found her. Since she had come down on the last train for the day, I offered to buy her a room over at the hotel. She accepted. That night, we had us an ice storm to beat all ice storms. In the morning, she went out to check when the next train would be due, but fell and sprained her ankle. The doctor thought it would be best if she could recuperate with a family in the area is how mama and me got her to come stay with us. On the ride over to our place, she told me she doesn’t believe in God. I don’t know what to say about that.
My deepest desire is to be married, but I think I need to keep on looking. This woman, Rose Henderson, ain’t no match for me lessen she turns her heart over to the Lord. I think the Lord’s got His job cut out for Him in that area. She’s a good woman and all once you get past all her lying and such, but being good don’t mean you’re saved.
Author Greta Picklesimer is Michigan born and raised by Kentucky transplanted parents. Besides writing, Greta spends time working on her scrapbook/art journal, reading audiobooks and dreaming up her next novel. She is owned by one rescue cat by the name of Pearlie Blue who was named after one of her father’s favorite Bluegrass songs. Greta spent many happy summer vacations with her family visiting relatives in the hills of Kentucky. She was so impressed by those visits, that her books are set in Kentucky. By day, Greta works as an office assistant. At night, she writes.
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