A gun aimed at her breast.
The Countess Lady Dougal
Entered eternal rest.
A uniquely crafted necklace
Sir Ensor snatched with glee.
Knowing the jewels would one day
Prove a pedigree.
A small child, now crying
Was taken to their home;
Rechristened there as Lorna
The Doones claimed her as their own.
A few short years thereafter
Carver’s men rode through the town.
They frightened young children
In cold blood shot Jack Ridd down.
Finding little Lorna
Ne’er stopped marauding deeds.
The murder went unpunished
Despite the family’s pleas.
Wand’ring through verdant hillocks,
And along a winding stream,
Young John, the son of Jack Ridd,
Found a place where light did gleam.
A waterfall it thundered
And dragged him ‘neath the pool;
He thought his life would vanish
In water clear as jewels.
Rescued by a dark-eyed beauty
A mere girl of twelve years old,
She dragged John from the water
Shivering from the cold.
She asked what he was doing
How he’d fallen in the brook,
John showed her how he fished and
The patience that it took.
They laughed and played for awhile
Until urgent calls drew near.
While Carver searched for Lorna
Her face grew white with fear.
“You must leave and ne’er return;
“Don’t come around again.
“My family will surely kill you
“If they find you in our glen.”
She disappeared up the hillside
And vanished in the trees.
The calls were coming closer
As though carried by the breeze.
He slipped beneath the water
Hidden from Carver’s sight.
He held his breath and waited
Prepared to take his flight.
The years passed and John Ridd
Grew into a fine young man.
He did an honest day’s work
As he worked his fam’ly’s land.
The Doones attacked an uncle,
And the local Baron failed
To render any justice
Or have the outlaws jailed.
They rode over the hillsides
And climbed down by the rill.
John left his uncle panting
With orders to keep still.
He slipped between the rocks that
He’d found so long ago;
His eyes caught Lorna fishing
In the clear pool down below.
Alarmed to see a man there,
Lorna scampered to evade
The advances of a stranger
On an unprotected maid.
John called out, “Wait, Lorna!
“Don’t you remember how
“You saved a half drowned boy once?
“Do you recognize me now?”
She reminded of her warning
Of the dangers of her home,
Demanded that he leave her,
Find another place to roam.
But John purposed to linger;
He held fast to her hand
Until she gave her promise
But when John returned to her,
Lorna sent him back again.
“You’ll not want to know me;
“I’ll only bring you pain.
“You know my name is Lorna,
“But I also am a Doone
“I’m heir to this realm of violence;
“I’ll become their queen too soon.”
Carver badgered Sir Ensor,
Claimed Lorna as his bride.
While John at home, tormented,
Wrestled with his hurt and pride.
How could such a beauty
For other’s crimes be accused?
He resolved to get to know her;
His heart wouldn’t be refused.
Meanwhile the old Lord Doone
Told Carver he must wait.
He must woo dear Lorna
Before she’d become his mate.
John Ridd won the heart of
His long forbidden prize,
While Carver tried to pressure
And fill her ears with lies.
Over the months Sir Ensor
Grew weak through ill and age.
He hoped before he died
To see his grandchildren engaged.
Many years of planning
Relied upon that dream.
It meant somehow his grandson
Might earn Lorna’s esteem.
But, carelessness and ardor
Exposed the lover’s hearts.
The ailing man sent for John
And railed against upstarts
Who dared to hope that somehow
The Doones would let her go,
Would not hold her captive,
Away from John her beau.
As he left, his Lorna
Bade him watch close the trees.
Said, “When there are but two nests
“‘Tis time to come for me.
“You’ll know then that Ensor
“Will have passed from this life.
And Carver’ll come to claim me
As his rightful wife.
Not much time had passed ‘fore
John saw the nestless tree.
He crept just like a shadow;
His Lorna he must free
Before the others noticed
Their queen was gone from home,
Stolen by the farmer
To become John Ridd’s own.
But back home at the farmhouse,
The fam’ly was distraught
To wed their father’s killer
Seemed but to come to naught.
“How could you!” cried Lizzy,
Join to such a one
“She’ll now ne’er be punished
“For the evils they have done.”
Before the matter settled,
The news came of a raid;
Carver’s men were thund’ring
O’er hills to claim the maid.
Guns were loaded quickly;
Each man took careful aim
At the men on horseback
As in the yard they came.
They drove back would-be captors
And sent them home alone.
The barn was burned to cinders,
Revenge for what he’d done.
But Lorna saved dear Lizzie
From certain death that day
And proved her loyalty there
In a most convincing way.
The necklace at Lorna’s throat
Annie’s Tom noticed with delight,
Marveled at the workmanship
And how it glistened in the light.
A sketch drawn there by Lizzie
He brought to London town
And learned the tale that it told,
A sad story of much renown.
Tom arrived and told John
Of Lorna’s noble birth.
“She’s the ward of King Charles,
“Has a title and great worth.
“A wealthier young woman
“You’ll not find in the land;
“She must come back to London
“And take her station grand.”
O’er weeks and months, John wrote her,
His pen oft’ at his page;
He poured his heart on paper
To the woman he’d engaged.
While Lorna at the Palace
Wrote of her new found home,
Of her loss and how she missed him,
Each letter near a tome.
All too soon, King Charles
Took ill and quickly died.
Monmouth’s troops were waiting
In hopes he could divide
His countrymen from loyalty
To King James, and then he’d win
The crown for himself and
A new country to begin.
Tom rashly joined the forces
Of rebellion and of greed.
He rode away at sunrise
On a black and glossy steed.
But John, pleasing sister Annie,
Rode to the battle ground
To save the foolish husband,
And wounded Tom was found.
He sent the man home weary
And tried to sneak away,
But the soldiers of King James they
Heard him and demanded that he stay
Just as they tried to hang him,
The king’s servant came,
Declared Johns fealty and love
To the crown and to King James.
In London he was tried and
Found guilty of dissent;
He begged for mercy and of Doones
His voice found full vent.
He promised to clear them
From Exmoor’s hidden glens;
He needed but good horses
And about a hundred men.
He watched the royal fam’ly
Enter church that Sunday morn.
And later there that evening
He waited to his scorn
For Lorna to come running
To see her beloved John,
But when she came, his anger
Near’ found her there alone.
They quarreled over letters
And accused of unfaithful hearts;
Both claimed they’d written daily
Through the time they’d been apart;
John thrust the pack returned him
Into Lorna’s trembling hands;
She called for her maid Gwenny
Learned ‘bout the maiden’s plans.
Lorna’s noble title
Meant no marriage to her John;
But his plans came to fruition—
The Doones were finally gone.
And though that wily Carver
Escaped with but his life,
Knighted by King Charles’ brother,
John now took Lorna as his wife.
But at the marriage chapel
At conclusion of their troth,
The heavy doors flung open
By Carver with an oath.
He pulled a gun on John who
Stepped in front of his new wife;
But as they’d done years prior
A Doone stole a Dougal’s life.
Wild with grief and anger,
John rode in quick pursuit;
He gained ground quite quickly
Following the madman’s route.
He flung himself at Carver,
And knocked him from the steed;
Another would die that day—
Justice for the murd’rous deed.
But as they fought in the forest,
They fell into the mire;
John struggled soon to safety,
And against his deep desire,
He tried to save the one who
Had stolen his love’s last breath;
But Carver refused all help
And died a gruesome death.
Forlorn, the bridegroom
Rode sadly to his farm,
Found her pale in death on his bed,
But her hand it still lay warm!
Dear Ruth assured if Lorna
Could make it through the night,
She’d make a full recovery
If for her life, she’d fight.
As with all romances,
This tale has a joyous end.
The man won his lover, and
The villain did apprehend.
And through the years the legend
Of Exmoor and the Doones
Will ne’er cease to delight
Those who sing this plaintive tune.
Ready or Not
Fresh out of college, Aggie Milliken thinks she’s prepared for anything life can throw her way. Think again, Aggie!
After the abrupt loss of her sister and brother-in-law, Aggie is stunned to find herself the sole guardian of their eight lively children. If learning basic parenting skills wasn’t complicated enough, she must also battle the children’s half-crazed grandmother, survive a massive remodeling project, and navigate the waters of new friendships—alone.
She has little experience with children and none with housekeeping, and it shows. What she has going for her is grit, a double dose of determination, and the confidence that this is exactly where the Lord wants her to be. With an unlimited P-mail account and enough hymns to keep her spirits bolstered, she tackles one catastrophe after another.
It seems like nothing Aggie does is right, but ready or not, here she comes!
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Inside every book is a piece
The Rockland Chronicles
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
The Ballad of Exmoor
Ready or Not