Hello and welcome to the Author Roast and Toast! The hostesses are pleased and honored to roast our very first male author! Pat Dale is a multi-published author with a talent for writing as well as music and has a wicked sense of humor to boot. We are at The River’s Edge, a tavern located in Larabie, Nebraska. On a bluff high above the Missouri River, just below the point where the river turns northward across South Dakota, the bar affords a fantastic view of the wild natural scene, with eagles flying high above while deer and turkey roam at will through the trees on the hilly slope.
We are celebrating the release of Pat’s novel
DANCE WITH THE DEVIL
So join us today for a rip-roaring devilish good time. Cuddles and Nibby, donned in party hats, stand on either side of the tavern, blowing trumpets of welcome. The hostesses, looking stunning in festive party dresses, Sharon a rich burgundy, Lyn a deep crushed purple, and Mary in soft midnight blue, greet Pat with a kiss and a smile when he struts through the double swinging door looking devilishly handsome in a navy suit and tie. The patrons break into thunderous applause.
Pat Dale, come on in!
“Oh, Pat, you handsome devil,” Sharon gushes, wiggling her cute little bubble butt. “You must promise me a game of pool later or maybe even a spin about the dance floor. I just love country music! We’ll put The Devil went Down To Georgia on the jukebox.”
“Thank God I’m a country boy!” Pat grins. We’ll Dance with the Devil tonight!”
“What about me,” Lyn pouts, stomping her oh so elegant size 12 lace-up boot, earning a wink from Pat. “I already have y’all marked on my dance card for Devil Wears Blue jeans, you sexy thing you!”
Mary tempts Pat with a teasing smile, adjusting the locket between her ample cleavage. “I have to boogie the night away with Pat to The Devil’s Train by Hank Williams.”
Oliver, donned like a lumberjack in flannel shirt and blue jeans, flips mouth-watering burgers, chicken pot pies, hot dogs, onion rings, fried taters sizzling with onions, pots of baked beans, meat loaf, grilled turkey and pork bellies. He also mans the bar with a wink and a smile while serving beer and soft drinks.
The bar is a full half block long, with the main door on the northeast corner and a side door about half way back. Heavily clad with knotty pine siding (not paneling), it features a classic bar, including a massive hutch displaying every liquor known to man, though the bar’s patrons are essentially beer drinkers. Known as a watering hole for local cattlemen and ranchers, the Edge prides itself in mouth-watering burgers,
deep-fried onion blossoms and succulent French fries.
With the bar extending from the front door to the side door, the rest of the tavern is given over to two rows of square tables with chairs. Across the south side of the room, ten massive booths support eight people each, giving the place occupancy of some eighty revelers. The back of the room is given over to three shuffleboard tables, a partitioned off dart court, and a huge felt-lined pool table.
On occasion, the bulk of the tables can be stacked in a corner, affording a wood floored dance area, though rarely used for that purpose. In this utilitarian corner of the nation, simple pleasures suit the peoples’ fancy more than dancing. A juke box, strategically placed for easy access provides a constant hum of country music. Rock fans need not bother looking through the available menu for their favorite rock tunes—there are none.
July 15th, 2011 was a very special day in Larabie. After all, how often does a sleepy little village on the literal edge of civilization get to debut a novel? No matter the novel is not very complimentary to the community, it is publicity. A chance for that mythical fifteen minutes of fame. Come on, folks, let’s party!
The town has a bakery, and a cook who bakes the world’s most delicious angel food cake. And pastries, from colatchees and iced Danish, to chocolate éclairs and crème horns, any resident with a sweet tooth must surely be familiar with the Bakery Café. So, today, we’ve brought along platters of gaily decorated rolls and pastries.
A decadent angel food cake, with white icing to set off the black cover of the book being celebrated sits pretty on a sidebar.
We hope you enjoy yourselves at the tavern. Pat has graciously offered to give an autographed copy of one of his other books, Crossed Line. For a chance to win, please answer the following question.
Name Pat’s all time favorite country song.
DANCE WITH THE DEVIL
Blurb:
Buddy Wilson’s teaching career traps him in a community where infidelity, illegitimacy, and incest seem the norm. He escapes from his unfaithful wife only to be caught up by his growing obsession with Robin Blaik, a younger woman he’s befriended. When their relationship grows too hot to cool down, they must face demons from their common past.
Excerpt:
Thinking back, Buddy Wilson remembered the day his life started to unravel…
Driving slowly along the aged blacktop’s serpentine path, with the long-silent railroad bed on one side and Crooked Creek on the other, he recalled the first time he’d traveled the bumpy old highway six years ago when he came to Larabie to interview. Superintendent Bob Merrick had painted a glowing picture of life in this pristine Nebraska village, a holdover from pioneering decades.
Merrick! His ears burned from the man’s sick question an hour earlier. Paula and her boss having an affair? No way!
For the hour since then, he’d driven aimlessly, wanting not to believe Merrick’s insinuation. Now, as he came back through town, his attention focused on the outpost. After all, that was all this village was; a dumpy little outpost with none of the charm he’d been promised. Why should he take the word of that man now?
He scanned the rows of homes along the roadside that had given the erroneous impression of prosperity. Only after he’d agreed to the contract and begun to look for housing did he learn that many of them had been vacant for a quarter of a century. The post war boom had borne within itself the seeds of economic disaster.
Big old multi-generational farm homes had been abandoned when men found it easier to drive from town to do their work. Families fragmented and fled to small modern houses in the villages of rural America. Small towns flourished for a time as better and larger equipment made it possible for fewer men to work even bigger tracts. But, there had not been sufficient jobs for all those no longer needed on the farms.
So, after generations of migration into the little villages, a pioneer counter-flow of humanity began moving away from the farms and villages, back to urban civilization. Bitter-sweet irony played its sad song across the fruited plains. And, because brighter and more adventuresome folk were inclined to move elsewhere to find their fortune, many who’d been left behind were stubborn, lazy, recalcitrant, or just plain dumb.
Larabie had found itself with a fair share of each category, not that everyone here was lazy or dumb. More than a few industrious souls persevered in this valley, some who’d been here for generations. But many, like Buddy, were relative newcomers.
By the time his thoughts returned to the present, he’d passed his own street as well as the bowling alley where Paula and he would be on Thursday night. Or would they?
To win a copy of one of Pat's book, all you have to do is just leave a comment and your e-mail address.
Contest ends tomorrow and everyone who comments is elligible.