I am now into the rewrite phase of my up coming book, "Riding Buffaloes." I came across this:
Young Johnny Journeycake squatted where Lucille and Earl Dean lay on the dirt floor of the cabin. The morning light rays angled through the cracks and crannies of the old home place and speckled the ground. Dust boles danced in the beams of light. Lucille and Earl Dean huddled together under Earl Dean’s jacket, her head resting on his chest. Young Johnny wandered over to the old home place on foot after his breakfast and now he eyed the couple with his head cocked to one side in a curious manner as they slept. Without a sound, he dug into a small flour sack with long knuckle-boned fingers and brought out a floury biscuit and he nibbled at it. With his head cocked the other direction, he marveled at how they slept through the frantic songs of the house wrens vying for nesting territory around the cabin. He sniffled. Lucille’s eyes cracked opened and she peered at the Indian boy. His stoic coppery face stretched into a broad toothy smile.