Excerpt from The Red Lock: A Tale of the Flatwoods
A girl came out of the back yard of a red-roofed cottage at the up-stream edge of Buckeye, passed around a rather tastefully built barn, with its flanking cribs and pens, crossed the fallow pasture lot in a corner of which it stood, climbed the fence and picked her way up the face of the cliffs that roughly walled the village on three sides, until she stood at last among the jagged and broken pinnacles at the top of Black Rock, a lighter speck against the gray green background of the Flatwoods.
Away beyond the bend where the placid Wabash lost itself among the hills the sun crawled toward the rim of the west.
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