Obie's Truth, Book 2, Hangtown or Bust, coming soon

 

Coming soon, OBIE'S TRUTH.

Years ago, I wrote an historical novel titled Obie's Quest. Once published it was available for a brief period of time and then pulled from the market. As a result, the book is now out of print, difficult to find, and increasingly expensive. Occasionally an old copy reaches the hands of a publisher who then contacts me in hopes of acquiring the rights to my book. The following is a quote from a recent proposal to publish the original manuscript.

"I am thrilled to share some wonderful news about Obie's Quest. I recently presented your book to a number of industry professionals who specialize in historical fiction, young adult historical adventures, and cultural storytelling. The feedback was extraordinary! Several professionals remarked on your ability to blend humor, historical accuracy, and compelling narrative, creating a story that is both entertaining and enlightening. Your portrayal of Obadiah Camp’s adventures left them captivated and eager to explore possibilities for adaptation, educational integration, and regional promotion.

Here are the reactions of 14 professionals:

1. Margarett Crauss, book scout, HarperCollins
   "Obie's Quest is a brilliant mix of history and humor. The narrative breathes life into the 19th century and makes it approachable for both young and adult readers."
2. Dr. Li Hua, Editor, Beijing Historical Literature Circle
   "I was fascinated by how Shannon intertwines historical facts with witty storytelling. It makes history accessible and enjoyable to a wide audience."
3. Ms. Chen Rong, Literary Advisor, Hong Kong Storytellers Guild
   "The humor and charm of Obadiah Camp are irresistible. This book would resonate with teens and adults who appreciate history with heart."
4. Mr. Gao Jian, Independent Publisher, Guangzhou Heritage Press
   "Obie's Quest captures the spirit of America’s formative years in a way that is both educational and delightfully engaging."
5. Ms. Lin Yue, Young Readers Program Coordinator, Shanghai Literacy Network
   "The story encourages curiosity about history while entertaining the reader. It is perfect for school programs and reading groups."
6. Dr. Nabila Karim, Curriculum Designer, Asia Historical Education Initiative
   "This book could be used in classrooms to illustrate historical events while keeping students entertained. The narrative style is perfect for engaging reluctant readers."
7. Ms. Rosa Santos, Podcast Producer, ‘Historical Tales for Teens’
   "Obie's Quest is a story that begs to be adapted into an audio series. The narrative pacing and humor make it ideal for serialized episodes."
8. Mr. Rafael Ortega, Workshop Facilitator, Guangzhou Teen Writers Program
   "The character development and historical depth make Obadiah a role model for curiosity, perseverance, and ingenuity."
9. Ms. Asha Verma, Library Outreach Coordinator, Hong Kong Public Library
   "Obie's Quest is a compelling addition to library collections, appealing to readers interested in American history, adventure, and humor."
10. Mr. Kenji Ito, Festival Organizer, Beijing Young Readers Festival
    "The story is perfect for live readings and interactive storytelling sessions. Teens will be captivated by the adventures and humor."
11. Ms. Yuki Tanaka, Reviewer, Asian Historical Fiction Insights
    "Shannon has created a narrative that entertains while educating. The historical details are accurate, and the humor makes it memorable."
12. Mr. Victor Hale, Digital Content Producer, Interactive History Studios
    "Obie's Quest has potential for interactive adaptation. Imagine readers following Obadiah’s travels through maps, journals, and immersive media."
13. Ms. Hannah Lee, YA Literature Educator, Guangzhou Schools
    "This book would spark lively classroom discussions about America’s history, migration, and cultural development."
14. Mr. Oliver Choi, Teen Engagement Specialist, Hong Kong Literary Festivals
    "Obadiah’s journey is both humorous and inspiring. This book will engage teens in history like never before."

Shannon, the response to Obie's Quest has been truly inspiring. Schools, libraries, festivals, and media professionals are eager to share Obadiah’s journey." 

Heartened by this renewed interest, I intend to self-publish a newly edited and slightly updated version of the original manuscript under the title of Obie's Truth. Stay tuned. Once available they'll go fast. SC

OBIE'S TRUTH-Preface

• OBIE'S TRUTH
• Book 1 AMERICA WAS REAL   Prologue through episode 38
• Book 2 HANGTOWN or BUST   episode 39 through 86
• Preface
• There are those who would have you believe that truth is variable, inconstant, and open to interpretation. I'm here to tell you it is not. Truth is an accurate, unbiased, and verifiable reflection of pure, provable, incontestable facts. An honest representation of observed circumstances may well be subject to inconsistency as the result of perception, misconception, and inadvertent prejudice, but regardless of viewpoints, biases, and long held beliefs, in each and every circumstance, there is but one truth. The following account represents not only my truth, but the provable, incontestable, and undeniable truth. This is Obie's Truth. (Which is a lot to ask of an innocuous, little work of fiction) SC/OJHC 

Lord willing, Clara's Best will be available soon. Cross your fingers.

 Shannon Thomas Casebeer

SNOWED IN AT TAHOE

 

MIAH

The Hangtown Trilogy

Episode Eighteen

SNOWED IN AT TAHOE

Autumn of our third year as man and wife found winter approaching and Meami’s family prepared to set out once again for Carson Valley. Our cabin being complete for the most part, we decided to winter at the lake.

I was proud of our cabin. I was gratified by my achievement. The familiar shelter, warmed by the crackling fire and sheltered from the wind and the weather, comforted me like my mother’s warm embrace. For me, the cabin offered a sense of security. It felt like home.

It took Miami a long time to become accustomed to the cabin. For her, the cabin represented confinement. She was accustomed to teepees and huts. These were a part of nature with which Meami was entirely familiar. The teepee breathed and reverberated softly with the elements. It was very much one with nature and the earth. For Meami, the very protection the cabin was designed to provide was oppressive and suffocating. Cut off from the subtle rustlings of the elements, Meami felt confined and claustrophobic. Whenever possible, we left the windows open so that Meami could breathe. With the approach of winter, the windows would be closed and tightly shuttered.

Winter would test our cabin, our preparedness, and our resolve. I’d built a small pole barn for the mules and livestock, and we’d purchased a quantity of prairie hay from Carson Valley. We’d stocked the woodshed with vast amounts of seasoned firewood, winterized the cabin as best we could, and stocked the coffers with what we hoped would be sufficient provisions to last until spring.

During my time on the riverboat, I’d developed a mighty tenacious coffee habit. I arranged my entire day around coffee breaks. During my early years at Tahoe, coffee was rarely an option. On the rare occasions when it was available, it was almost always unaffordable. Meami’s family brewed teas from almost everything. Everything of course with the exception of actual tea leaves. They brewed tea from everything from roots to nuts. They brewed tea from wildflowers, tree bark, rosehips and grasshoppers. It was an acquired taste, and I soon acquired it. During the long winter days during which I suffered from cabin fever, I spent countless hours hunkered before a crackling fire while consuming vast and varied varieties of brewed tonics guaranteed to cure whatever ails ya.

The children loved their grandpa, the chief. And he them. As we’ve already established, the chief valued his time. The Chief prided himself on using his time wisely, and he lavished it on the kids. One winter, he whittled them each a willow whistle, and they formed a band. For weeks the house reverberated with the melodious caterwauling of high-pitched toots and tweets. It was absolutely intoxicating, and I was soon intoxicated.

The cabin leaked chipmunks. They didn’t leak out; they leaked in! We had screened in the bottoms of the Hoosier and the pie safe to prevent raids and made every effort to secure our dresser drawers to prevent pests from nesting in our underwear. There’s nothing like a nest of disorderly chipmunks to aerate your long johns.

We had on hand a good provision of dried fruits and venison, and the smokehouse contained a quantity of smoked meats. To the extent we could, we’d prepared ourselves for almost anything. Or so we hoped.

November passed peacefully enough. As December began, winter arrived with a vengeance! By January, the snow had reached the bottoms of the windows, and retrieving water required breaking ice. Our wood range and stone fireplace began consuming wood at an alarming rate. I’d collected huge pinecones for use as kindling for restarting fires, but we rarely required kindling, as we were rarely comfortable letting the fires go out.

The morning temperatures were frequently in the 20s, and sunny days struggled to reach the 40s. With the snowpack quickly absorbing every sound, the silence was all-consuming. Silence is essential to becoming one with the cosmos. Without silence we never hear the stars.

Morning chores were accomplished hastily and with very little time spent in sightseeing. The concept of being entirely snowed in takes a toll. When the realization seizes you that, come hell or high water, there’s no getting out until spring, it’s not unexpected to feel a bit claustrophobic. The best cure is to picture something warm and enjoyable. The sight I enjoyed most of all was breakfast with the family in front of a crackling fire.

That being said, the lake in winter is a magical tonic for the most debilitating case of cabin fever. The mountain peaks literally glimmer in the twilight, with the evergreens silent and cloaked in robes of white. On cloudless days, the sun is absolutely blinding, and indigo skies are brilliant shades of blue. Silence prevails and serenity reigns supreme. During the night, the stars are bright as campfires in the snow, and the moon casts dancing shadows on the lake. Smoke billows undisturbed from our stovepipe and rises unmolested into jewellike skies. Only the crack of an overburdened limb occasionally interrupts the silence and echoes through the canyon below. You can hear the stars and sense each minute as the hours seep slowly into days, and days morph leisurely into months. Then one day, icicles began dripping from the eaves, and the melting snow heralded the welcome arrival of spring. With the spring thaw came the emergence of momma bears.

Copyright ©

Shannon T. Casebeer

Literally alive with puppies!

 

Photo: My great grandpa, Calvin Casebeer, 1865

• I just buried another puppy. Robin and I have been raising puppies for over twenty years. We’re not a kennel. We’ve never had more than two breeding females at a time. Still, when you keep two breeding females and each one has a litter of pups each year: over a twenty-year period, that’s a bunch of puppies! With each litter of pups, it’s not uncommon to have one little puppy whose not got the spunk to make it. That always makes me sad. They’re just dogs, you may say; get over it! After all these years of watching helpless little puppies draw their last breath in my lap, you’d think it wouldn’t bother me.
• 
  
• There’s a little scrap of scripture in the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, which talks about animals and heaven. It rarely surfaces in a sermon. There’s much in the Bible that rarely surfaces in sermons. I’m not a theologian, and I’m not interested in debating whether or not animals go to heaven. In any case, the way I read this scripture, it suggests to me that no one knows whether animals go to heaven. I find that comforting, especially when I’ve just lost a weeklong struggle to save a little puppy.
• The attached photo is my great granddad, Calvin Casebeer, soon after he concluded his service during the Civil War. He looks gaunt and traumatized, just as you’d expect him to look following such a horrific experience. Following the war, Calvin moved our family to the Ozark Mountains of south-central Missouri and spent the rest of his life reaching out to people and sharing The Good News, that Jesus loves us. Calvin passed away in 1907. I never got to meet him. I sure wish I had. I believe we need more people in the world like Calvin. I rarely miss the evening news. I frequently find it discouraging. Day after day, I watch people trying to pass off petty, political bickering as Christianity. Petty political bickering is just that! Christianity is something entirely different. Christianity is about reaching out compassionately to others, and like Calvin, sharing the Good News that Jesus loves us.
• 
  
• A short distance from our home is a pond and a little hill overlooking a meadow. As often as possible, I take my morning coffee back to that little overlook and spend time sharing my doubts and fears with Jesus. Some people will find this disturbing; some because they have absolutely no belief in a Savior, and others because they feel confident that, if there actually is a Savior, he surely has more important things to do than spend time visiting with an old hillbilly like me. Here’s my response to that: The strength of my faith varies from day to day. I wish it didn’t, but it does. I believe that’s true of most of us. On the good days, when my faith is strong, I believe that God, in His infinite wisdom and awesome power, is able to spend time with each and every one of us, just like we’re the only soul on earth. It lifts my spirit to believe that. I see no reason not to. I also believe it’s in the best interest of everyone who’s willing, to believe that as well, and to share that Good News with others, and help others believe that Jesus loves them too. I believe that one of these days I’ll hug great grandpa Calvin, and I believe Heaven is literally alive with puppies.

Shannon Thomas Casebeer

If you enjoy heartwarming tales of Americana and honest to gosh adventure, you've reached your destination. There's manna here to last 'til the cows come home!