I've written a novella set in 19th century Missouri, around the Mississippi River. It is a tribute to my favorite author, Mark Twain. Obviously, 30,000 words is too long for this format, so I'm enclosing the opening paragraph. If you're interested in reading more, let me know and I'll e-mail you a copy. 

Escaping Providence

Chapter 1

“There comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy’s life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure.”  Mark Twain 

Great, cascading walls of frothy, displaced mocha-colored water churned and bubbled before falling harmlessly back to their origin, only to be replaced by brother clumps of river moved effortlessly by the paddlewheel. Henry Hillyard listened to engines heaping steam power aplenty to move the craft, belching white exhaust plumes in counterpoint to an infinite volume of cerulean sky. Daylight on the river offered different charms than those of night’s inky blackness.  In the evenings, one depended on his ears for clues to events transpiring just beyond the limitations of sight.  But in the afternoon, his position at the rail offered true vantage of the river, shore and heavens, devoid of the night spirits tending to fog the mind and nurture fantastic thoughts of images that exist only in the dark. The oak & brass rail divided humanity and nature, and like it or not, he stood on the side of man.  Before him lay endless miles of trees, birds and creatures too numerous to count; behind, just beyond the swinging doors leading to the gaming rooms, wealthy men amused themselves with the allure of gain, placing chips on green velvet, drinking whiskey, screaming in anticipation of the little ball rolling round and round the wheel and, occasionally, dropping a chip or two onto the serving girl’s tray in return for a quick squeeze of her lush, firm derriere. Two sides of the same coin… his coin… separated only by a man-made edifice— fear.