It’s a beautiful spring day, and I’m giving serious thought to taking the Kindle outside and sitting in the sun. When I was growing up in Granada Hills, California, a Los Angeles suburb, I’d often read in the backyard. The house had a big sandstone patio, and a fruitless Mulberry tree offered a canopy of shade. Add in a bottle of Orange Crush and a folding chaise lounge and you’ve got the picture. Being outside added to the sense of adventure of whatever I was reading. I still enjoy it.

I’ve got other favorite places to read . . . Here are my Top 5.

Place No. 1 — Airplanes. I love reading on planes! When we lived in the Washington DC area, I’d make twice-a-year trips to see my mom in Los Angeles. A nonstop flight would give me about six uninterrupted hours. The trick is to pick a book that’s just the right length. You don’t want to land with just 15 pages to go. That happened to me once. I was at the most exciting part just as the wheels touched down at LAX. Series romances are a good length for flights, especially Love Inspired Historicals.

Place No. 2 — Hotel Rooms. I don’t do a lot of traveling, but the times I have, I’ve been glad to have books with me. When my husband and I go on vacation, picking which books to take is a big part of the planning. We were in Laughlin, Nevada for a weekend when I read Swan’s Chance by Celeste DeBlasis. I read until five in the morning. Just couldn’t put it down! For travel, I like long books that will last awhile. James Michener’s sagas definitely do the trick.

Place No. 3 — The Beach. There’s something wonderful about reading with your toes in the sand. Add the rumble of waves and can of Diet Coke and I’m set for hours. For a “beach read,” I like something fast-paced with lots of drama.

Place No. 4 — By A Swimming Pool. This one has pros and cons. Community swimming pools can be noisy and crowded, and if we have small kids in tow, they need our full attention. It’s hard to read with all the splashing and noise. On the other hand, if I’m by myself and it’s quiet, I enjoy the ambience.

Place No. 5 — Home Sweet Home. Reading at night in the den is just wonderful. In the winter, the fireplace is ablaze. In the summer, the windows are open and the crickets are chirping. The coziest place in the house is my LaZ Girl recliner. That’s not a real trade name. It’s a LaZ Boy, but my husband calls it my LaZ Girl. It fits!  

So those are my favorite places. Anyone else? Where do you like to read?

Some of my favorite shows are the programs on how movies are made. Movie Magic is one, and there’s another on Bravo. And there are all those HBO specials. Those looks into the development of a movie always leave a big impression on me.

Sometimes after learning how over budget a production is, or the how the blue screen effects were done, I go see the movie just to find out how the finished product came out. Even if I don’t have the slightest interest in a movie in the first place, after I watch one of those programs, I have to see how all the special effects and the computer imaging and fake rain and snow and all that stuff came together into 90 minutes of near-perfect cinematography and sound and lighting. The process absolutely intrigues me.

Did you know that in Gone With the Wind, during the scene where Scarlet walks among the wounded soldiers on the battlefield, if one slows the film enough and knows where to look, Judy Garland, dressed as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, can be scene peeking around the backdrop? They were filming side by side on the same sound lot.

I’m an Avatar geek, and the CGI technology is one of the most amazing things I’ve seen done in film—that anyone has seen done to date. I had to force myself not to buy the second release with extra footage, because I already owned the first version. When there are no behind the scenes extras on a DVD I’ve purchased, I feel cheated.

Even seeing a movie first and then watching the how-to program fascinates me, but I’d rather know the behind the scenes first, for some reason. Then I can sit and pick out all the places where I know they did a particularly wonderful job—or had an especially difficult time.

When we’ve finished watching a new movie, my husband cringes, because he knows I’m going to go into the menu and watch the behind the scenes trailers and clips. I’ve learned a lot by seeing how scenes are created and changed and how actors get into the roles of their characters.

I think one reason why that intrigues me so, is because everything that looks so polished and perfect in the finished product, was actually grueling, laborious, often times FRUSTRATING work behind the scenes.

I remember for example, in the making of Jurassic Park, every time that huge tyrannosaurus—the one that broke through the fence and came after the kids in the car—every time it got wet in the rain scenes, the mechanical parts stopped working. The crew would have to stop, dry it down, wait, and start over. Hours and hours and hours, and in some cases DAYS of painstaking work just getting a few perfect shots.

It’s not so unlike what we writers do. Other writers and all the readers see us with our good clothes on, our hair fixed, attending meetings and conferences, and book signings, with stacks of the glossy finished product in front of us. But how many hours of unglamorous work went into the finished product? I hate to even think how much I’ve made an hour on some of my projects, because when I think about it too hard, the more difficult it is, the more time it takes. And the more time it takes, the less I’m making per hour.

And I must tell you: I don’t get up in the morning and slip into my pink ostrich-feather trimmed negligee or dictate to my personal secretary. Some days (and nights) I do my best writing in my jammies! Now there’s a picture for ya, eh?

Finished books can represent years. They also often represent other projects that fell by the wayside in between. Not every book that a writer proposes sells. I know a lot of authors who claim they sell about one out of every three stories they come up with.

A book takes anywhere from a few months to several months to complete. Some writers take a year or more. And those words don’t flow out of our brains in perfect order. Great scenes don’t just happen without plotting and planning and playing with dialogue. I usually write a story from beginning to end. I’m a very linear writer. But sometimes I have to go back and add things I belatedly realize are needed. Many authors write in layers, with dialogue first and then go back to add body language and setting. Others write scenes out of order and then connect them like a puzzle. It always amazes me how the process differs with each person—and with each book. I don’t write every book the same way. And then there’s the middle muddle, and all kinds of things that can get a writer off track.

I’ve never asked other writers about this, but most often my books leave an impression on me—an imprint of what was happening in my life at the time it was written, be it good or bad. I remember which book I was writing when something significant happened in my life. While we’re bringing characters to life, we’re simultaneously living life.

I think I can imagine what it’s like when the director, producer and crew of a movie watch their finished product for the first time. They remember how that scene came off beautifully after the boom was repaired or how amazing it is that a shot was edited to remove a dog that shouldn’t have been there. And then I imagine they look at the film with fresh eyes and marvel at how all the parts and players came together in a satisfying and rewarding piece of work.

That’s how a book feels, too. Satisfying and rewarding, even though I know all the things that happened behind the scenes. It’s still a delight to see a new book cover for the first time. When my author copies arrive, I open the box and touch them, open them, read the first few pages. Spotting my release among all the others at Wal-Mart or the grocery store never gets boring. And I consider myself one of the most fortunate people in the world to be doing what I love and getting paid for it. Seriously, how many people can work in their jammies?

There’s something amazing about recognition from your peers, as well, and that is what RWA’s RITA contest is all about. It’s judged by other writers just like myself, who love books and understand the process of writing one. I’ve been honored (for the fourth time) with a RITA nomination—this time for a novella,  MONTANA ROSE in the TO BE A MOTHER anthology from Love Inspired Historicals. Being a finalist is a big deal, accompanied by flowers, champagne and congratulations from friends, agents, editors and fellow writers. I am clearing a spot for that bad boy statue above my desk! Root for me in July.

Do any of you enjoy seeing behind the scenes as much as I do?

It’s always exciting to mosey over to Petticoats and Pistols and spend time with the fillies and their terrific friends! And share with you my love of all things historical.

 In prior visits, I’ve talked about orphan trains, herbal remedies and mail-order brides.

This visit marks the release of my fourth Love Inspired Historical. Wanted: A Family will hit bookstore and discount store shelves this Tuesday, March 8. Here’s a peek at my story:

Shelter of Hope, the ramshackle Victorian house, is all that widowed mother-to-be Callie Mitchell has left. But she’s going to make that house into a true home—a home where she and her baby will be safe and happy…and where women in need can find refuge. And if that means trusting stranger Jacob Smith to help with repairs, then so be it. Jacob came to town with a handful of old postcards and one goal in mind—to find the mother who’d abandoned him years before. He never planned to stay…and he certainly never planned to care for Callie. Yet as they rebuild the house together, Jacob and Callie also build the family they’ve always wanted.

Building a family is part of the “happily ever after” ending of romance novels. I rarely have the fun of selecting the home for the hero and heroine, but since Callie is a widow, I got to choose her home in Wanted: A Family.

I find architecture fascinating. I especially love Victorian architecture.

Victorian houses aren’t all alike.

Folk Victorian is square and symmetrical with spindled porches and brackets under the eaves.

The more lavish Queen Anne is asymmetrical with towers, turrets, wrap-around porches and details galore. A few years ago on a trip up the Oregon coast, I took the opportunity to see exteriors of several Victorian houses in Astoria.

The pink house is one of the photos I took.

When my story needed a large old house for Callie to give refuge to unwed mothers, I chose a Victorian. Callie’s house is Queen Anne gone to seed. Carpenter Jake will set the house to rights while working his way into Callie’s heart. Mine too. What woman doesn’t love a handy man? ?

Houses—like the people who live there—have a history and Callie’s house is no exception. Do you have an architectural style you’d put in a book if you were creating a setting? Or a style you’d like to own if money and location weren’t a consideration?

Think Cape Cod, Federal, Colonial, Italianate, Greek Revival, Antebellum plantation, Cotswold Cottage, Tudor—the list goes on and on.

Take your pick.

Tell what you love about the style.

Or if architecture isn’t your thing, can you share a legend about a house. Haunted? Criminal activity? Mayhem and murder?

When Jake arrived in Peaceful, Indiana looking for work, he carried a handful of postcards. I suspect you’ve seen or perhaps even own a few old postcards.

We are privileged to have a variety of antique holiday greetings sent to my husband’s family: Valentine’s Day postcard with a naked cupid clutching a bow and arrow, Easter chicks riding in little buckets on an electric fan Ferris wheel, St. Patrick’s Day shamrocks. Flags for the 4th of July. Thanksgiving with King Turkey perched on his throne.

I particularly love the Christmas postcard featuring a Victorian family and their candlelit tree. Postcards also conveyed birthday wishes, as they did for Jake.

Each year on the date of his birth, a postcard arrived at the orphanage, the only link to the mother he never knew and is determined to find. If you own antique postcards, share details about the postage, date, and handwritten message on the back or perhaps how you display them.

One day I hope to have the time to investigate the artists/print houses that created our postcards.

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Thanks for stopping by and chatting with me today. For a chance to win an autographed copy of Wanted: A Family, please leave a comment.

Thanks, fillies, for inviting me!

Visit Janet online at: www.janetdean.net

 www.janetdean.blogspot.com

 www.seekerville.blogspot.com 

The Making of a Hero

What makes a hero? For me, I think Willie Nelson said it all when he sang these words: My heroes have always been cowboys, and they still are it seems.

I’ve always loved cowboys.  As a little girl, I wanted to marry Michael Landon’s character from Bonanza; Little Joe. I would have settled for Adam. Even Hoss. I loved John Wayne, Sam Elliot and Robert Redford in a cowboy hat.

What makes a cowboy a hero? On the outside, it starts with a swagger, the tilt of a hat, a grin that melts our hearts. But it is more about who they are. It’s Little Joe, smiling and cute, always trying to save the damsel. It’s Hoss, with his good character and strong convictions. It’s Adam, a little more suave, knowing what to say and sometimes getting taken by surprise.

John Wayne, sometimes a reluctant hero, but always a hero. Sam Elliot, well, I just always thought he was cute with that smile of his. Robert Redford.  Need I say more?

Today’s cowboys are just as cute, although the movie world is sadly in need of a John Wayne, a Robert Redford or a Sam Elliot. The music world has Tim McGraw, and who doesn’t think it’s just the cowboy in him? And of course there is George Strait, with his smile and those famous Wrangler jeans. Amazing Race has our favorite McCoy brothers. They’re the real deal.

Before Amazing Race, after Amazing Race and during Amazing Race, Jet and Cord McCoy are cowboys. They’re country and proud of it. Cord is a bull rider who is known for always smiling.

I do love bull riders. They are the embodiment of the old west. They put their hand on their heart and pledge allegiance to the flag. They’ll bow their heads and pray for a friend. They get bucked off, kicked, stepped on and yet, they keep getting on the bull. With broken bones, dislocated shoulders, concussions and broken ribs, they ride bulls. They put a whole new spin on the term, ‘walk it off.’

Wyatt Johnson, the hero from my January Love Inspired, THE COWBOY’S FAMILY, showed up in my August 2010 release, The Cowboy’s Sweetheart. He was a secondary character but as soon as he showed up with his two little girls, I loved him. He was broken, hurting, and in need of a good woman to heal his heart. I knew from the moment he pulled up in his moving van that his story would be next. Sometimes a hero shows up, begging for a story.

That’s the easy part, when the character shows up and you realize they need a story. And then comes creating the story. Who is the character? What does he need? Who does he need?

Of course Wyatt Johnson had to be a cowboy. But he also needed those cowboy hero qualities. Like John Wayne, he would be reluctant. Like Hoss, he would want to do the right thing. Like Robert Redford, he just looks good in a cowboy hat and jeans.

A good hero puts self aside and rescues the heroine, even when she doesn’t realize she needs rescuing. And the heroine, in the words of Julie Roberts’ PRETTY WOMAN character, “she rescues him right back.”

Rachel Waters is just such a heroine for Wyatt Johnson. She’s a pastor’s daughter, loyal almost to a fault, and willing to put her own heart on the line for Wyatt and his two little girls.

So, all of you cowboy fans, tell me what it is you love about cowboys and who are some of the cowboys you think of when you think ‘hero’? Two lucky commenters will win an autographed copy of THE COWBOY’S FAMILY.

              
Hello folks.  Thanks for all the wonderful comments on my Honey Bee post.  I used my handy-dandy random number generator to select a winner of the giveaway and came up with Laney4. 

Laney4, if you will contact me via my website with your mailing address, I’ll get a copy of my book right out to you.

Thanks again to everyone who stopped by today.

Winnie

I want to thank Tracy for inviting me to blog.  My latest book, Second Chance Ranch, is about equine therapy and how it changed the lives of both the hero and heroine.  I read in our local paper a human interest story about an Iraqi veteran who lost his leg in a road side bomb and how equine therapy is used to help veterans.  The instant I read that article, it called to me.  I knew I had to do a story about it and thus was born my book.

I normally write suspense (12 books), but this time the story turned into a romance.  Well, I didn’t that stop me, so I started on my journey.  I read everything I could get my hands on concerning veterans and equine therapy. I ran across several articles in NARAH Strides about how horses are used to help people who’ve lost their limbs regain their balance and rebuild the muscles used in walking.  http://narha.org/resources-education/resources/narha-horses-for-heroes  I discovered a new world of the benefits of horses and what wonders they work.  Children with physical problems can use this therapy, emotionally troubled youths benefit from the responsibility of caring for a horse.  I went out to my local equine therapy ranch and spent the day with them, seeing how the therapist works with smaller children.

I also went down to Shiner’s hospital and talked to the head of the prosthetics department.   We spent time going through the department and he explained how to fit an artificial limb and the process the patient goes through.

Now, I have the background, but who are my hero and heroine?  That’s the exciting part of writing.  Finding your hero and heroine and discovering who they are.  I am a westerner and any story I do is set in the mountain west—Colorado, New Mexico, Wyoming, Texas and Louisiana (it sneaked in).  My hero, Zach, was raised on a ranch in New Mexico and rodeo all his life.  When he loses his right leg below the knee, he doesn’t know how to deal with his life.  And my heroine is an army medic, but also a horse person and ridden all of her life.

As I was researching this story, I talked to a friend who grew up in West Texas and always had horses.  She tells me of her mare who when she sees my friend trots across the pasture and follows my friend around like a big puppy.  Who knew?   When I got to know my horses, Prince Charming, a big black gelding, and Brownie, a little mare who the children ride, they were full blown characters.  I could say that Charming is a wonderful counselor and helped both my hero and heroine work out some thorny problems.  My characters blogged this last month and will probably continue to blog for probably another month.  Kind of the story behind the story.  It’s the characters view of what happened.  I’m tempted to do the horses’ view. I hope if you’re interested you visit my websites, www.leannharris.com and www.barbharrison.com

I also just got good news.  Zach McClure has a brother and sister.  I’m going to get to do those stories, too.  Thanks for having me.

Readers, in honor of her visit, Leann is giving away one copy of SECOND CHANCE RANCH. Just join the conversation with Leann to be entered in the drawing–and be sure we have your email address with your comment.

The Outlaw’s Return is special to me for a couple reasons. J.T. Quinn is doing the hardest thing a person can do. In spite of instincts to the contrary, he’s trying to be a better man. It’s not easy when you have a past like his. The other reason I love this book is Fancy Girl. She’s J.T.’s dog, and she’s got a way with children. The pub date is February 8th, so today I’m giving away three advance copies.  To be entered in the drawing,  just leave a comment. For fun, tell us about your favorite dog or cat or any other critter that’s made you smile.

Here’s an excerpt . . . 

The Outlaw’s Return

 Chapter One

Denver, Colorado
July 1876

When J.T. Quinn vowed to find Mary Larue, he never once imagined they’d meet on a perfect Sunday morning in Denver. On those long nights when he’d lain alone in his bedroll, he’d imagined seeing her on a stage in some high class opera house. He’d pictured himself in a black suit and a white shirt leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed as he listened to her hit the high note only she could hit. Their eyes would meet and she’d recognize him. She’d miss a beat, but she’d pick up the song with even more power than before and he’d know . . . she still loved him.

That wasn’t going to happen today.

It wasn’t Saturday night, and J.T. wasn’t wearing a suit.

It was Sunday morning, and he had trail dust in every pore. He also smelled like the inside of a saloon. He hadn’t visited such an establishment for six months, but last night he’d walked past a gaming hall with a head full of memories. A drunken cowhand had stumbled out to the boardwalk with an open bottle of whiskey, and the contents had sloshed on J.T.’s trousers. The smell had sickened him in one breath and tempted him in the next. He’d have changed clothes, but the garments in his saddlebag were filthy. They stank, but not with whiskey. He’d resisted that temptation, and he’d done it because of his love for Mary Larue.

Heaving a sigh, he looked down at his dog. “What should we do, Fancy Girl?”

She whapped her tail against the boardwalk and looked up at him with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. J.T. didn’t know what kind of dog she was, but they’d been best friends since he’d walked out on Griff Lassen at the Dudley place. They’d been running off Ambrose Dudley and his brother, squatters up in Wyoming, when the dog had charged at them and started barking. Griff had ordered J.T. to shoot her dead.

J.T. had done a lot of mean things in his life, but not even he could shoot a dog. On the other hand, he’d come close to shooting Griff. When the man aimed his Sharps at the mutt, J.T. had shoved the barrel downward. The bullet had ricocheted off a rock and creased Fancy Girl’s head. J.T. had mopped her blood with his bandanna and fed her jerky from his pocket. When she’d followed him to his horse, he’d poured water from his canteen into a pot. She’d lapped every drop, and he’d filled it again.

He’d left the Dudley place with the job undone and Griff promising to get even, but the dog had followed him. That night he’d named her Fancy Girl because her fur reminded him of Mary’s blond hair, and he’d made a decision. He didn’t want to be the kind of man who hunted squatters and shot at dogs.

For the past ten years, J.T. had sold his gun for money. He’d been nineteen when he’d sold his gun for the first time, and next month he’d turn thirty. For a gunslinger, he had a lot of years on him. Today, standing outside a saloon and listening to Mary sing, he thought back on those years. He’d drunk oceans of whiskey and been with too many women. The whiskey had never failed to work its magic. The women, though, had lost that power and it was because of Mary.

She’d been in his head for two years now, ever since Kansas where they’d been a pair and she’d made him smile. Really smile. Not the sneer he usually wore. And not because she was generous with her affections. Mary made him smile because she believed he was a good man. He wasn’t, but after the mess at the Dudley place, he wanted to try. Leaving that day with Fancy Girl, he’d decided to find Mary and make a new life. He had some money saved, enough to open a saloon, a place where she could sing and live the life she’d always wanted. He didn’t plan to marry her. He’d changed, but not that much. Picking up where they’d left off seemed noble enough.

He and Fancy Girl had been searching for six months, and he’d finally caught a break. He hadn’t touched a woman or a drop of whiskey since the mess in Wyoming, but he still had to eat. Last night he’d taken supper at the boardinghouse where he was staying with his dog. One of the boarders, an old man with bad eyes, had told him about a woman named Mary who sang like a nightingale.

You’ll find her tomorrow morning at Brick’s Saloon.

Not once had it occurred to J.T. that Mary would be singing a hymn in a makeshift church. His mind had gone in the opposite direction. He’d imagined her finishing up a night’s work that involved more than singing. He’d been sick to think she’d fallen so low, but in the next breath he’d been relieved. No matter what Mary had done to survive, he still loved her. He wouldn’t wish her the suffering of selling herself, but he rather enjoyed the thought of riding to her rescue . . . 

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I hope you enjoy J.T.’s story.  The book will be available February 8, 2011.   Good luck in the drawing!

Sharpshooter in Petticoats released January 1st.

It’s in bookstores NOW!

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Sharpshooter in Petticoats is my favorite one of the three, not because the others aren’t good, but because I’ve been building to a wild, chaotic, runaway, mayhem soaked conclusion for three books, and in a way…for NINE books. characters from Lassoed in Texas Trilogy and the Montana Marriages Series are in this final book.

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If you’ve read books #1 and #2 in the series, Doctor in Petticoats and Wrangler in Petticoats, then you’ll know I’ve been getting the oldest sister in the McClellen clan into deeper and deeper trouble in those earlier books. Finally it’s time for Mandy to have her happy ending.

And if there wasn’t a feuding family of backshooting murderers gunning for her, it’d be no problem because her no-account husband is dead and the hero has been around the edges of her life for years. Her being married to another man is quite an avalanche blocking the trail to true love, though.

But I won’t even beat around the bush here, Mandy’s husband, Sidney Grey,  is dead and gone. Shot by the men who are now harassing Mandy.

I know a lot of people wanted to WATCH Sidney die. And they wanted to watch him die slowly, maybe stake him to a fire ant hill or have him be nibbled to death by small predators. Better yet, have Mandy beat him to death for insulting her for the LAST TIME.

But nope. I needed him dead to start with so I just shot him between the end of book #2 and the beginning of book #3.  Being a writer is kind of fun. You get to solve all the world’s problems in your books. Of course I created the problems. And in real life, the people who are messing up your world usually just stay right there and keep making things hard.

But for a writer, it’s so clean, even though you have to abuse people you love to begin with to make everyone loathe the villain.

But I digress.

Here’s a little bit about Sharpshooter in Petticoats:

Mandy McClellen Grey, has become the focus of a feud thanks to her husband, who made this mess and then died. Far from home, Mandy, the best little rifle woman in the west, has resigned herself to a lonely life under siege rather than call for help and endanger her family.

Tom Linscott is fed up with waiting for Mandy who should have had the sense to come to him as soon as she finished burying her worthless husband. In fact he’d've come fast enough to dig the hole if she’d've sent for him. He goes to round up his little woman and buys into a heap of trouble from a whole clan of outlaws.

Between Mandy’s deadly skill with her rifle, her determination to not bring trouble down on someone she loves, and an ever growing crowd of varmints who want to bury everyone named Grey—and anyone who sides with them, Tom may not survive getting himself hitched.

And here is an excerpt from Sharpshooter in Petticoats:
 

“She stole my horse?” Tom’s voice rose to such a high pitch it hurt his ears

“I think she took out after the men who were shooting at us.” Wade stepped in front of Red. It was his brother-in-law’s way to draw a fist to his own face to protect someone else. He might even have thoughts of Tom’s soul, not wanting Tom to slug a parson.

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“You oughtta sign it, too.” Red handed Tom a piece of paper with a neatly written record of the marriage, signed by Red, Abby, and Mandy, all three. “But even if you don’t, you’re still married.”

Red said that as if he expected Tom to argue, but being married to Mandy, the little horse thief, suited him right down to the ground. Tom grabbed the paper and scrawled his name with a pen that barely scratched a line in nearly-dried ink. He thrust it toward Red.“It’s yours.” Red refused to take it.

Tom folded it roughly and jammed it into one pocket.

“Abby, tell me what went on around here. Sawyer, pack me some grub.”

Abby talked while Tom led his stallion to the barn.

When his sister paused to take a breath, Tom jerked his chin at the stallion. “Will you take care of him? Everyone else on this ranch is scared to get near him.”

Abby agreed and kept talking, letting him know all that had unfolded. She made a point of talking about the way Mandy handled her rifle. Tom had heard a similar story years ago from Belle Harden, who had met Mandy when she was a new bride.He’d asked too much of the black. He strode toward the corral where Tom’s second favorite horse was held. The most perfect colt to ever come out of his stallion, and that was saying something because his stallion bred true.

Tom stumbled to a halt when he reached the corral. A dozen horses grazed in the pen, none of them the one he wanted. “She stole my best horse?” Though it was no time for such a thing, Tom laughed. He had married himself one beauty of a woman.

“Borrowed, Tom. Not stole.” Red had tagged along to the corral.
Tom remembered well his plan to beat Red within an inch of his life. Right now time was too tight. “Which way did she go?”

Red pointed to a trail in the distance Tom could only see because he knew his land so well. “She asked me where I saw the men riding, the ones who shot up your house.”

“And you told her? Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”
Red shoved his face right up into Tom’s, which reminded Tom that Red wasn’t just a sky pilot—he was also a rancher who’d come out here and tamed a mighty mean stretch of a land. “I told her because it never occurred to me that a woman would abandon three children and a man she’d just married to go hunting a pack of killers. What kind of woman did you marry anyway? She’s acting crazy.”

Tom shrugged. He couldn’t really argue Red’s point, though arguing came real easy. “I married me the sharpest shooting woman in the West, I reckon.”

“That you did, Tom. I saw her in action.” Abby bridled Tom’s second choice for a horse while he saddled.

“I saw her, too.” Red shook his head in wonder. “I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that. Why do you want a woman who appears to have a taste for killing? What are you thinking to pick a woman like that?” Tom looked past Red and saw Red’s wife, sweet little Cassie Dawson, quietly tending all six children, both the Dawsons’ and Mandy’s—Tom caught that thought. They were his children now, too.

Tom’s temper would have crushed Cassie like a bug the first week of their marriage. Shrugging, Tom felt a little sheepish, but this was a man of God. It’d be wrong to lie.

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“Honest, Red, that’s what I like most about her.”

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http://www.maryconnealy.com/

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Leave a comment to get your name in the drawing for a signed copy of Sharpshooter in Petticoats.

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Or click on the tiny cover above to buy from Amazon.

Unconventional. Unafraid. Unwelcome.

A female physician with an adopted black daughter? The townsfolk of Idaho Bend will never accept Dr. Mercy Gabriel—even when faced with a deadly cholera epidemic. But all Mercy needs is one man willing to listen…and to trust.

Four years of war command turned Lon Mackey into a footloose gambler who can’t abide attachments. Yet he can’t help getting riled by the threats Mercy keeps receiving. Her trailblazing courage could reignite his faith and humanity. And his loyalty could make her dream—for the first time—of a family of her own….

Her Healing Ways is the final book in my Love Inspired Historical “Gabriel Sisters” series about three Quaker sisters who are trying to help others in the aftermath of the Civil War.

This final story is Mercy Gabriel’s. She worked alongside Clara Barton as a fellow nurse throughout the Civil War. Now she’s graduated from the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania, which was the first US medical college exclusively for women.

Mercy and her adopted daughter Indigo, an orphaned former slave, head west to find a place where Mercy hopes she will be accepted as a physician.

I think this hope demonstrates one of the most interesting facts about the West. The West was a place where the “unconventional” had more freedom, had a chance to prove themselves and be accepted for what they could do, not their differences.

Mercy rightly assumes a frontier community with both logging and mining will need a doctor and they will accept her when the need arises.

Can you think of any other examples of unconventional people who found a home in the West?

Mark Twain and Theodore Roosevelt come to my mind. Mark Twain developed his writing while out West (The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County). And after his first wife’s untimely death, Theodore Roosevelt carved his future from his escape to the West

Any more examples? Comment to get your name in the drawing for one copy of HER HEALING WAYS.

Have you ever given a surprise party?  Have you been the guest of honor at one?  Several months ago my sister-in-law called me about a surprise party for my brother’s 50th birthday. They live in Denver, so it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together.  No way would I miss it! But oh my goodness!  Keeping the trip to Denver a secret for that long nearly did me in.  I had visions of talking on the phone and blurting, “See you in September!”

Well, I managed to keep quiet and I’m so glad I did.  My sister-in-law planned the best-ever surprise. She sent my brother on a scavenger hunt with a series of clues. Instead of finding trinkets, he found people.  I was Clue #5. The clue directed him to the  place were he works and told him to look for a loved one.  He saw his wife first and said, “Where’s my clue?”

“I don’t have it,” she answered. “Keep looking.” 

My brother works at a western supply store. Among other things, they sell cowboy boots. I was seated on a bench with boots in hand. To anyone else, I looked like a customer trying on a pair of Tony Lamas.  They were cool boots but not nearly as cool as the moment my brother spotted me.  It’s not often you get a chance to completely shock someone, but that’s what happened.  I’ll never forget that moment…It was the highlight of my trip to Denver.

The good times just kept coming.  After the big birthday bash, we did a mini-tour of the mountains around Castle Rock.  Some of you will remember Bounty Hunter’s Bride and the final scene with Beau Morgan and outlaw Clay Johnson in a canyon. The book is set in Castle Rock, Colorado, so a lot of my research consisted of calling my brother for info on the terrain. A cowboy at heart, he’s ridden all over the area and he told me about a particular place on the Platte River.

On Sunday we piled into his big truck and and drove to the place he described.  What a glorious feeling to kick off my sandals, wade into the river and feel the reality of my characters from the book!  I could picture Beau riding up the river and then into a side canyon. The dirt was as red as I’d imagined, the walls of the canyon as steep.  Rocks jutted just like my brother had described.  Fiction came alive for me in those moments.

It also came alive in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Wyoming Lawman is on the shelves now.  The first chapter takes place in a fictional place called the Dryer Hotel.  Before the surprise party, my husband and I detoured to Cheyenne where we spent a night at the Plains Hotel.  The lobby has been maintained in the style fitting the year it was built.  I could practically see my hero and heroine sitting on the chairs while the heroine made braids for the hero’s five-year-old daughter.

The last stop on the Wyoming journey was the Wyoming Territorial Prison. My all time favorite hero, the Reverend John Leaf from Abbie’s Outlaw, spent time in this place. Online research provided the facts, but walking through the prison yard, seeing the monstrous walls and the dying grass, brought the place to life in a new way.  The cells were what I’d imagined, and I got to see where the women were housed.  Did you know the first chaplain for the prison was a woman?  She’s definitely blog-worthy, if not a heroine worthy of her own book.

So that’s my trip to Cheyenne and Denver . . . I had a great time combining research with a family celebration. About the boots I was trying on when I met my brother . . . I wear them all the time and I love them!

Available now at Amazon: Wyoming Lawman