I have enjoyed her work since I read her first book, In A Fevered Land, a look at the oil fields in West Texas and the people who worked them. I can't wait to read this latest one.
"Irene is first an historian -- specializing in real Texas History, the stuff you won't (always) find in the textbooks. She has captured a genre in her historical fiction that stands alone." George Arnold, Author
On a personal note, Dan Wright has just written a wonderful review of One Small Victory, giving it 4.5 stars. "It’s brilliantly written and never once ceases with the drama, making you want to carry on reading to find out whether it has a happy ending or not."
I always blush when someone uses "brilliant" in a sentence about me. Thank you so much, Dan.
Now, here's Slim.....
It was like buzzards circling the body.
The Jones kid, Randy, was out in the Mule Barn parking lot with the hood up on his car. He was staring down into it as a first-time parachutist would look out the airplane door. You never quite knew for sure what lay ahead.
“Looks like Randy’s got problems,” said Steve.
“Let’s have a look,” said Dud.
So coffee was left to get cold and the entire Supreme Court of All Things Mechanical – Steve, Dud, Doc, Herb and Dewey – trooped out to see what was going on.
They formed a powerful semi-circle of wisdom around the youth and his engine with folded arms and facial expressions that said, “It’s okay, Kid. We’re here.”
Dewey spoke first. “Having trouble, Randy?”
Doc, who has the most initials after his name, said, “Give it a try.”
Randy ground the engine, but it wouldn’t kick over.
“Stop! Stop!” Doc yelled. “Don’t want to flood it.”
All Doc knows about flooding is that the animals went on board, two by two.
“Randy, I think it’s the solenoid,” said Steve, looking wise.
“Doesn’t have one, Steve,” Randy said.
“Sure it does. All cars have solenoids.”
“Not the new ones. Haven’t made solenoids in years.”
Steve’s expression said, “Young punks, what do they know?” But his voice said, “Well, what do you know about that?”
“Need a jump?” Dewey asked.
“Got plenty of spark,” Randy said.
Randy looked at the older men and then bent to the engine and smiled. His voice came floating up over the radiator. “Might be the junction fibrillator. Or it could be a malfunction of the Johnson switch. If I rerun the wire from the organ housing to the pump by-pass, that might get it done.”