BITTERCREEK - Mallory, Bud
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Isolated by the wheat fields that stretched for miles around it, the little town of Bittercreek existed with its own joy, sadness, scandals and humdrum everyday life as any other place. To some the town was the backwater of society, yet buried within exists a soul that lives and breathes with the emotions of its inhabitants. John Bourdine stood in the window of his barbershop with his newspaper in his hand, watching the town come alive. Moments before he returned the wave of pretty little Hope Dennison as she passed on her way to work at the bank. Earlier in the day, the truck from the depot…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
Isolated by the wheat fields that stretched for miles around it, the little town of Bittercreek existed with its own joy, sadness, scandals and humdrum everyday life as any other place. To some the town was the backwater of society, yet buried within exists a soul that lives and breathes with the emotions of its inhabitants. John Bourdine stood in the window of his barbershop with his newspaper in his hand, watching the town come alive. Moments before he returned the wave of pretty little Hope Dennison as she passed on her way to work at the bank. Earlier in the day, the truck from the depot had brought the day's mail to the post office. Mary Gontain, the postmistress, had accepted the delivery. John waited giving her time to sort the mail then sauntered over and got the daily newspaper that had come in on the four o'clock train. By this time, Mike Tester had already made his usual morning visit, with a cup of coffee in his hand, to start the day. He opened his office at nine, but routinely came early enough to pop in to chat with John for a few moments before his day officially started. Needless to say, he would stop what he was doing and wander over at anytime of the day he didn't have a customer, or whenever he considered something interesting might be going on. John's glance swept the street where he observed Dick Peddy sweeping the sidewalk in front of the Constables Office. Though law and order was considered to be his vocation, Dick had a side of him that dictated everything should be neat and tidy. Over in front of the Pastime stood Sonny Young's pick up truck indicating he and his brother Lowell were in town pounding down a few. The harvest was over and the wheat checks were in. Common practice around these parts was for the farmers to gravitate into town to wash the dust of the summer toils from their throats once the harvest was completed.
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