Evening readers!

This is a story that I've been thinking about doing for a while and I'm pretty excited to see where it takes me. Please be mindful that I've never written for someone with a southern accent so I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right. I'm piecing it together and taking one step at a time. I might miss a couple things so don't hold that against me either. I also hope I don't offend anyone. But, if there is anything I should do differently, please let me know. I'd love the feedback on how to write someone with a southern accent.

The first couple chapters are going to be shorties because I'm in the middle of my final week of the term, but once this term ends I plan to jump back in for more chapters and make them longer. Those of you who read my other stories, don't worry! I am working on them and plan to post some new chapters soon.

I hope you all enjoy! Don't forget to review. I love reading them all whether they are good or bad. It helps me as a writer.

Chapter 1

July 25th 1864

Santa Fe, Texas

The hot Texas sun rays beat down on mah exposed shoulders an' sweat runs down mah face. I quickly run the back of mah hand across mah forehead to wipe it away. Leanin' down an' bendin' mah knees, I groan as I lift up the third hay bale an' shoulder it. I wince as the hay scratches mah bare shoulders, but find mahself ignorin' it as I hear mah name git called.

"Isabella Swan! You put that bale down this instance young lady!"

I roll mah eyes an' walk away from the voice towards the paddock. The horses need hay, so hay they are gonna git. Within a few minutes I reach the gate an' I place the bale down beside me. I unlatch the hook an' keep an eye out for Spartan. He's a troublemaker who loves to find a way outta the paddock an' run amok. Just as I'm about to drag the bale through the open gate, a hand gits placed on top of mine.

"There is no need to dirty your hands for a man's job," mama says harshly.

"Mama, you an' I both know it needs to be done. Papa's sick an' ain't gonna be able to git outta bed to do this. An' Judd is out fightin' this damned war," I say as mah eyes prickle with tears.

Mama sighs. "Don't you curse, Isabella. Ladies don't curse, ya hear me? Quickly put the bale in an' git back to the house. You need to leave this to the men an' quit bein' so foolish. Go on, hurry up." Mama shoes me back to mah job an' I waste no time gittin' back to it.

Once I moved this last bale inside the paddock, I head back to the house an' collapse on the front steps. Mama places a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade by mah head. I glance up an' smile in thanks before liftin' mah head up to gulp down the cool liquid. Mama tisks as she heads inside before comin' back out with a wet cloth.

I greedily take the cloth an' run it over mah face. I really should be gittin' back to the chores papa usually does. I was sure that he'll be down for the count at least a few days before this damned sickness goes away. With the looks mama's givin' me, I might just hafta wait 'til she starts supper or else she ain't gonna let me do anymore.

"Isabella, you're seventeen an' the right age for a suitor. They'll start comin' aroun' soon an' you ain't gonna want them seein' you do the hard labor. A woman's job is to tend to the husband, cook, an' clean the house. Not to mention, mother some children for your husband. You best start understandin' that an' stop bein' stubborn an' foolish."

Placin' the cup on the porch an' resistin' the urge to roll mah eyes, I turn towards mama. "I understand, mama, I do really. But, you know papa raised me to help out an' I wanna help out. I've always loved workin' around the farm an' doin' what needs to be done."

Mama takes a seat next to me on the porch steps. "I know, dear. I love that you gotta learn about takin' care of a farm. An' I know I ain't gonna stop you from doin' it again, but please be more aware of the surroundings. If people see ya over here in men breaches an' tank they ain't gonna be pleased. Women ain't allowed to wear that an' must have the proper dress on. You know this, dear."

Nodding, I sigh. "You're right. I'll be more aware, mama, I promise."

"Good. Now go git yourself washed up an' join me in the kitchen to make supper."

Afta supper was made, mama retired to her room with papa to help feed an' bathe him. With papa feelin' poor, mama's worried. But I ain't. Papa's a fighter an' he's gonna bounce back real fast. I ain't gonna be ridin' by mahself anymore once he's feelin' better. Sneakin' a glance out the window, I can tell it's still light out which means I can take one last ride before callin' it a night.

I head to mah room to gather mah ridin' boots an' pull up mah hair while I'm at it. I'm gonna hafta ride in mah dress 'cause mama will be keepin' an eye out for me when I return an' I mustn't upset her anymore than I already have. I head towards the front door an' yell out to mama an' papa that I'm gonna go for a ride.

Pullin' the barn door open, I head right for mah saddle an' trinkets. I make haste to get Belle ready for our ride. I gently pet Belle as I feed the bit into her mouth an' whisper gentle words to her. Belle is the first horse papa e'er bought me an' named afta me. She's the opposite of me. Where I am outgoin' an' stubborn, she's more laidback an' timid. Belle is a sweet gal just shy of six years ol' but mah best friend. Once she's ready, I lead her out to the front of the barn an' place mah foot in the stirrup. With a grunt escaping me, I hoist mahself up an' onto the saddle.

I use mah heels to kick gently into Belle's side an' click mah tongue. She snorts an' starts movin' forward. Usin' the reins I lead her to the edge of the property line that borders the little forrest in town.