| Howdy Pardners, I would like to introduce myself to ya. Mustang Hill is where I live. Please tour my grand homestead as often as you please. If you need a certain type of horse, gentle, fast, or hardworking, then this is the place for you. So come on and we'll dicker a bit til we both agree on a reasonable price for your horse. |
| Name: Karen "Singing Dove"
Jamison Age: 17 (Feb. 2, 1842) Description: Karen is five feet three inches tall and weighs about 120 pounds. She has ivory skin and pale blue eyes that are so transparent if you look deeply into them it looks as though you are looking into her soul. She has jet-black hair that reaches just to the middle of her back, but she normally wears it in a long braid or pulled back from her face in a bun, much to her friends' dismay. Karen loves animals and is phenomenal when it comes to breaking in the new horses. She’s very independent and also very quiet. She loves taking her horse, Storm, out for rides. She often can be found sitting by the creek, which runs about a mile from her house, writing in her journal. Father: William (Bill) Jamison Mother: Christina "Raven" Jamison Grandmother: (on Mother's side): Sleeping Willow Grandfather: (on Mother's side): Raging Bull Summary: Karen's father owns a ranch where he breeds and sells horses. The family is fairly new to Dreamville. They moved to the new ranch, Mustang Hill, only about six months ago from Saint Joseph. Love Interest: Ike |
| Cathy [email protected] |
INTRODUCING KAREN! |
| December 31st: Dear Diary, I can’t believe we have been here a month already. It seems only yesterday that Mother came into my room and told me that Father had rented his own ranch, but we had to move to a place called Dreamville. I almost wish that we had not left St. Jo. I mean, it didn’t matter to me that Father worked for Mr. Sellers. But Father said that this was an opportunity that he could not pass up. I do miss St Jo though. The people here are certainly nice enough. I just miss my old friends. It is not easy for me to make friends. Mother says that it is because I am so shy. I suppose that she is right. I just don’t know how to change that. As she reread what she had written just one day before, she couldn’t believe how much had changed in those 24 hours. She wished that she could return to that day and start it over again. She began today’s entry. January 1st: Maybe if I had stayed home to help my parents with the ranch rather than going to the lake to write in my new diary, the accident wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe . . . well, there are a lot of maybes, but I guess none of that really matters now, does it?? I can’t believe that I am now on my own . . . to fend for myself . . . what in the world am I going to do?? It doesn’t seem fair that as soon as my father’s dream of owning his own ranch came true . . . it was taken away from him. If only that rattler had not gotten into the corral. Who would have thought that such a little creature, like a rattlesnake, could cause a stampede that would end the lives of two wonderful people? She couldn’t help but think about the day before. She had been selfish in wanting
to go to the lake to write in her diary. Her father had needed help breaking in the new
foal that a man from another town had bought, but her father had told her to go to the
lake since she had been working so hard on the other chores. He thought that she needed a
little time away from the ranch. At least that was what she had heard him tell her mother.
But if she hadn’t have gone. |