A lot of you know that I’ve been writing the Adventures of Dixie Dandelion for years now. Dixie came to me while I was penning my first novel, Soldiers From the Mist. She came in so forceful that I had to write her words. However, because I broke one of the “rules” of writing and pitched Soldiers to a New York agent before I was finished with the book, I panicked and dropped Dixie until Soldiers was done. Before I could get back with her, a fantastic opportunity came my way to write a paranormal romance for the Wild Rose Press. Alas, Dixie, again got put on the back-burner so that I could write The Rook and the Raven. After this I fully intended to get back with the fiery Dixie, but Bethany Ann from Daughter of the Howling Moon dropped on me like a spring tornado. Once again, Dixie had to wait.
Needless to say, Dixie is one pissed off cowgirl.
I was talking with my BFF, Jan Morrill about Dixie the other day and she said Dixie needed to write me a letter. Low and behold, Dixie Dandelion did just that. And here it is:
Dear R.H. Burkett,
It ain’t easy for me to trust. Papa rode away to join the Confederacy throwing my complete adoration for him aside. Against my wishes, Mama married a lowdown son-of-a-bitch carpetbagger, Preston Whitaker. It cost Mama her life. Then there is Jackson McCullough. An undercover Pinkerton Detective who says he doesn’t want to be burden by me. He need not worry. I’m strong enough to take care of myself. Or so I pretend.
You know different.
You know my story and my feelings better than anyone because in my lifetime you were me.
You rode the New Mexico desert on a scrappy brown and white painted Mustang named Joe. You learned to shoot. To fight. You built a horse ranch from the ground up, selling prime horseflesh to the US Army. You made friends with soiled doves and red-skinned Indians as well as yellow-skinned Chinese. And you loved. Loved a man strong and secure enough in who he was, that he wasn’t afraid to let you be who your are. You know the fear and doubt that rode beside me every day. The courage it took to stand alone, spit in the face of injustice. You know because you lived it.
I ain’t waiting no more.
I’ll haunt your ever waking hour and sleeping one as well. You’ll see me ever time you gaze into the looking glass. Ever time you paint your hair that fiery red you’ll feel me stir deep in your gut ready to break free. Every time you see a paint horse, your heart will flip over and and you’ll fight the uncontrollable urge to throw your leg over him and ride head-first into the wind and wild. You’ll feel the Mustang’s powerful muscles and the wind whistle past your ears. You’ll burn with a passion to give our story to the world so that young girls everywhere can feel the fire of the cowgirl burn in her soul. Learn to stand on their own two feet. Right the wrongs. And love like there ain’t no tomorrow.
This I swear.
Now write the damn story!
Whew! What can I say? Never, ever piss off a cowgirl!
Coming soon from R.H. Burkett, The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion, The Beginning.