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Showing posts with label Texas vacations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas vacations. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

#TRAVEL TO THE TEXAS SMALL TOWN THAT INSPIRED AUTHOR TERRY SHAMES

Bestselling, award-winning author Terry Shames writes the bestselling Samuel Craddock series and was named one of the top five Texas mystery writers of 2015. Today she stops by to tell us about the Texas town that inspired the setting for her series. Learn more about Terry and her books at her website.  

My Texas

I grew up in Texas in what seems like a very different world from the Texas I see in the news these days. In my golden memory people laughed more, were more tolerant, more laid back….

That’s memory for you. Not always reliable. But that’s the Texas I celebrate in my books. In particular, I focus on a small town based on where my grandparents lived when I was a child. I loved visiting them there. To me, who lived in a town on the Gulf Coast, where rows of houses surrounded a town center and without a farm in sight, the farming community was exotic. I liked seeing cows and chickens, goats and pigs; loved the smell of freshly turned earth on farms.

If you’ve never been in a feed store, entering one is like stepping into another world of smells and sights that you don’t see in a suburb. If you don’t fish or hunt on a regular basis, a sporting goods store in the middle of town that sells bait and wading boots and rifles and ammunition is a curiosity. In this small town there was no movie theater or big grocery store or department store. But there was an ice cream shop with wooden floors and a ceiling fan, a dry goods store that carried goods that seemed from another century, and a dance hall/ bar on the outskirts of town. There were no motels. You couldn’t get city radio stations, and TV was limited. The only place to eat out was one seedy café and a Dairy Queen. Is it any wonder that I remember this as a peaceful time?

The town has grown up. There are now antique stores, two motels, an art gallery, several places to eat out, and even a small museum that chronicles when Harvey Girls worked on the railroad that went through town. The high school now has modern tennis courts. You can get cell phone coverage, and Internet service, and any TV or radio station within a hundred miles. There’s a big grocery store and contemporary houses, and a small block of newly constructed two-story offices.

And yet, the core that I remember is still there. When I visit and go into one of the cafes to eat, the farmers still wear overhauls or jeans; hats and boots. The inhabitants are friendly (although with that hint of suspicion that always seems to underlie their interactions with outsiders.) There is still a scent in the air of rich soil and lush vegetation, oh yes, and barbecue. You still see people barbecuing in brick pits or in cookers made out of huge oil drums. The water still tastes of the strong iron component in the soil that leeches into the water. On really hot days you still get the bitter scent of creosote from discarded railroad ties from the tie plant that has been gone for decades.

Going back to visit, I get a chance to rejuvenate my sense of place for the Samuel Craddock series. It’s invigorating to go where he goes, see the people he sees, the houses he passes, the lake, the Dairy Queen, and everything in between. But I also have to have Samuel change with the times. He now has a cell phone, and computer, and he uses modern forensic practices. He’s even learning how to text! Balancing the two is true in fiction as much as it is in real life.

An Unsettled Crime for Samuel Craddock: A Samuel Craddock Mystery
When the Jarrett Creek Fire Department is called to douse a blaze on the outskirts of town, they discover a grisly scene: five black young people have been murdered. Newly elected Chief of Police Samuel Craddock, just back from a stint in the Air Force, finds himself an outsider in the investigation headed by the Texas Highway Patrol. He takes an immediate dislike to John Sutherland, a racist trooper

Craddock’s fears are realized when Sutherland arrests Truly Bennett, a young black man whom Craddock knows and respects. Sutherland cites dubious evidence that points to Bennett, and Craddock uncovers facts leading in another direction. When Sutherland refuses to relent, Craddock is faced with a choice that will define him as a lawman—either let the highway patrol have its way, or take on a separate investigation himself.

Although his choice to investigate puts both Craddock and his family in danger, he perseveres. In the process, he learns something about himself and the limits of law enforcement in Jarrett Creek.

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Wednesday, June 17, 2015

#TRAVEL WITH GUEST AUTHOR JUDY ALTER

Multi award-winning author Judy Alter writes the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries series, the Blue Plate Café Mysteries, and The Oak Grove Mysteries. She returns to Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers today to talk about a very unique and luxurious form of travel she discovered. Learn more about Judy and her books at her website and her Judy’s Stew and Potluck with Judy blogs.

My Kind of Travel

I sink into a cushy, soft black leather chair, pull down the foot rest from the back of the seat in front of me, and push the chair back all the way until I am almost lying down. With a shawl over my shoulders, lulled by gentle bumps and sways, I am soon asleep. Almost without my knowing it, an attendant comes and gently puts a small blanket over my lap.

Where am I? In the first-class cabin of an airliner bound on a long overseas trip? No. I’m on a bus from Dallas to Houston. But it’s not just any bus. It’s billed as an “executive motor coach service.”

I’m not a natural traveler. I don’t like to fly and rarely do so unless someone is with me. I don’t drive on highways, freeways, etc. So sometimes getting to see my children, who are scattered around Texas, is problematic. My son in Tomball, northwest of Houston, wanted me to come for Mother’s Day weekend (also his wife’s birthday) but my local daughter said she simply couldn’t drive me even halfway and I didn’t want to ask Colin to make the trip. Then the travel-agent daughter found the Vonlane motor coach service. It goes from the Doubletree hotel near Love Field in Dallas to the Sheraton North in Houston, near Intercontinental, and from the Dallas Doubletree to Austin. My daughter made my reservation, securing me a seat in a single row at the back, near the restroom and service station.

There was much discussion during happy hour in my living room about appropriate attire to wear on an executive bus. My neighbor, a guy who hates leggings anyway, decreed I could not wear jeans or leggings. My daughter held out for a cute “outfit.” As it turned out, there were people in all kinds of clothes and I needn’t have worried. I didn’t see many who looked like executives.

A good friend drove me to Dallas, saw my luggage loaded and even came onto the bus to get me settled. In addition, to not being a good traveler, I’m also prone to anxiety in strange situations. But Teddy saw me and my computer to my seat. All was well, except for the moment when, waiting for the bus, he said, “Not to panic, but the keys got locked in the car.” All my luggage was also locked in that car. I told myself it would all work out and it did—maintenance people from the Doubletree opened the doors.

The ride to Houston was three-and-a-half hours (it takes between four and five to drive from Fort Worth where I live). I read, napped, checked email and drank two glasses of complimentary wine. Vonlane offers not only complimentary food and drink but wi-fi, headsets for those who want quiet, TV and radio, and electric outlets. The attendant will hang your coat or hanging suitcase in a closet.

We hit Houston at rush hour, and I decided I should use the restroom since when I got off my son would drive me 45 minutes to his house. That was my downfall—literally. I came out of the restroom and was talking with the attendant, probably talking with my hands and not holding on. The bus had to make a fairly sudden stop, and next thing I knew I was on my back in a confined space, like a marooned turtle. A nice young man tried to put his hands under my shoulders and lift me up, but I insisted I had to get on my knees—no small trick in the space, but once I was on my knees, I could pull myself up. A couple of bumps and bruises lasted a few days but no serious damage. I was impressed however that the CEO of the company immediately called the travel-agent daughter, and that was the only way she knew I fell. I talked to him later and said I knew he wanted to forestall a lawsuit. He said, “No, we genuinely care about our passengers.”

The ride back was over lunchtime. More wine and a delicious chicken salad on a croissant. More napping, reading, and watching the world roll by. Always a train lover, I’ve found my new way to travel. And it wasn’t as expensive as filling up an SUV tank would have been.

Desperate for Death
Just when Kelly's life has calmed, she faces yet another of life's puzzles. Except the pieces in this one don't fit. First the apartment behind her house is torched, then a string of bizarre "accidents" occur to set her off-balance. Who is stalking her? Where does the disappearance of a young girl and her disreputable boyfriend fit in? And why are two men using the same name? Is the surprise inheritance another part of the puzzle? At a time when she is most vulnerable, Kelly can't make the pieces fit. Before Kelly can get the whole picture, she helps the family of a hostage, rescues a kidnap victim and attends a wild and wonderful wedding.