Homeward Flying Gander
By Hallie Haas
Tagline: Introduction to a novel of continental ambitions
Genre: Historical Fiction
Note: Effigy Press Staff Writer added the paragraph breaks, not the author
THE FIRST 600 WORDS SUBMITTED TO EFFIGY PRESS, AND OUR REVIEW(S)
John Ordway stood outside the door, a clay jug in his hands. Mud clinging to his boots added a half inch to his height; bits of straw festooned his coat. The hat and boots proclaimed him a man of the soil, a farmer, yet he did not have the proper squint; instead, his eyes were limpid and slightly bulging – the eyes of a poet or perhaps just an aphorist.
The eyes grew wide on seeing the servant on the other side of the threshold. “York!” Ordway opened his arms wide, one arm drooping with the weight of the jug. “I’ll be damned, I will. It is York, in the flesh. Still large as a bear and black as a Mandingo prince.”
The servant at the door showed no surprise. “Sergeant John Ordway. What a marvel. Still alive and well.” He gave the visitor a broad, sly smile. “The good Lord’s ways are mysterious indeed.”
Their voices were not entirely affectionate. The reunion drew the attention of passers-by, who must have wondered at the familiarity between the two.
York stepped back and bowed, inviting the visitor to enter. Ordway scraped his boots, handing over the hat and jug. “Not Sergeant anymore. No, it’s Mister Ordway now. Or you may call me Farmer John. Ha! That is my own peach brandy in the jug. I have two plantations now. And orchards. Oh, I say, York, that is a handsome tailcoat. Is it worsted?” He sounded nothing like a farmer. “I did not expect you here. I had thought--” The sentence went unfinished. York, who had only one name and no prefix of any kind, winced, but Ordway’s attention had been lured away by a parlor visible through an open door. “Oh, I say! A piano?”
“The very first one in Saint Louis,” said the servant with was a tinge of pride. “General Clark had it shipped for Mrs. Clark.”
“My word. So, it’s General now. I read something about that. Is it Brigadier or Major? And he is something else besides, right? Principal Indian agent for the territory or some such? I suppose we all have new titles. New honorifics. Ha! Well, not all of us.”
This time Ordway watched for the wince. York pursed his lips and pivoted on his heel, striding to a closed door. “The general will speak to you in the library, Sergeant,” he called over his shoulder.
“A library? What, with books? Is the general a reader now?” asked Ordway, hurrying after him. “He will be governor of Missouri soon enough. No time for reading then.”
Coming to the door, York turned round and pulled himself up to stand stiffly like a herald of arms at the palace gate. “Brigadier General of the Militia William Clark.” He opened the door and stuck his head into the room. “It’s Ordway.”
The brigadier general stood silhouetted against a mullioned window, a tall figure listing to one side, his elbow resting on the back of an upholstered chair. Seeing Ordway, he straightened up. Standing upright with his feet wide, he might have been the chieftain of an ancient Highland clan and not what he was, a functionary of the federal government weighed down by the accumulating burdens of an expanding frontier.
“John Ordway! My good man. How wonderful to see you.” The general came round from behind the small cherry table, freckled hand outstretched, moving like a man whose joints ache. The general’s hair seemed to be conducting its own territorial battle, a battle it was destined to lose. He was prematurely old.
Mr. Ordway ignored the hand. “Come now, General Clark. I’ve quit the Army. I hope you think of me as an old friend. Let us hug as the Indians do.”
REVIEWS
Tim
I’d keep reading; and as you provided a bonus 156 words, I will. And it actually become much more intriguing, so here’s the rest you submitted:
Clark laughed and men threw their arms around each other. Clark clapped his visitor on the back before pulling away to inspect the man's face. “A planter, eh? Imagine that.” He waved at the chairs and table. “Sit down. Sit down, John.”
“I have two plantations now. Here's proof. It’s my own brandy. A little young but good enough, I hope, for two gentlemen who know what it means to go without.”
York set two tumblers down upon the table. After so many years apart, the awareness of physical proximity produced its own kind of electricity. Something flashed among the three, a hot spark, a wordless understanding communicated not through words or looks, but through the hairs on their arms, the rhythm of their hearts and breath. Few men know other men so well as these three men knew each other. For a moment their shared history erased all the petty divisions of rank and quality.
Then the moment was gone.
York filled the glass tumblers.
So, now I’m genuinely intrigued, some shared experience, shared secret.
I like the writing in general, and noted a good job of unobtrusively slipping in information that might otherwise end up as exposition (this is called “plumbing”). We know Ordway is a man of the soil, you slip in that York is a servant, that we’re in St. Louis, and a few other instances. So, we’re getting quite a lot of information quickly and unobtrusively which is great.
Also, have to say I like “did not have the proper squint.” Not sure why!
A few quibbles, and two more significant points. Quibbles first…
Keep the names simpler, as you do with York. So John Ordway first, Sergeant Ordway next, and then stick with Ordway after that; that's my suggestion, readers get lost in getting too many names too early on.
“Standing upright with his feet wide” is a little jarring to my ears – standing bent over, yes, but standing and upright risk been read as tautological. Why not standing tall (unless he can’t be tall in your book)?
Myself, I’d have gone back to the construction “Few men know other men so well as these three men knew each other.” It’s right but grammatically awkward, and has too much narrator in it. I might even cut it out, as it’s probably unnecessary given what’s conveyed in the rest of the paragraph.
Watch out for minor issues, one typo and “with was” plus "and men threw".
And now the two (three?) more significant points, at least imho…
I wish you’d somehow given us a touch more scene setting early on. All we know it’s a house, and as you set Ordway as a farmer-type, I kinda imagined him at the door of a farmhouse, or a village shack, so things were a little dissonant until I was corrected. Even then I don’t know if it’s a mansion in a small town, a mansion in the city etc. All I know are there are passers-by.
And those passers-by? C’mon I’m not buying “The reunion drew the attention of passers-by, who must have wondered at the familiarity between the two” - based on what you’ve given me to that point.
That leads to an even bigger concern: until you get to “Something flashed among the three” it’s actually not terribly sparky. There’s a reason we set the limit at 600 words, which is that it’s 100-200 words more that the first page… you got a reader (or agent) to turn the page, congratulations.
I would love to see this initial meeting between Ordway and York have something that genuinely would surprise a passerby – or a reader – and that you get to “Something flashed among the three” before we hit the 600 word count.
I’m gonna bet if you do that, you’ll like it a ton more, and so will I.
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