Showing posts with label historical western romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label historical western romance. Show all posts

Saturday, March 15, 2025

Historical Western Romance with Elissa Strati



I'd like to introduce you to a historical western writer I met because she was a fan of my books. She has gone on to write multiple books in the historical western genre. I'm not adding a bio here because she tells you everything you may want to know about her in the answers to my questions. 

Paty:  Why do you write Historical Western Romance?
 
Elissa: I slipped into the genre sideways. My first novel was for a Kindle World that I had been invited to participate in by “New York Times and USA Today bestselling author” Melissa Storm (for whom I had done some editing). Love’s Odds: A Hanson Family Saga in the First Street Church Kindle World, a RomCom, was modern, not historical, but set in Texas (western). The second story I wrote for that world, Love’s Sweet Memories, which continued my series, within the World, was also modern. However, in my third Hanson Family tale, Love’s Laird, I had the heroine discover her ancestors’ journals and letters, and did a series of flashback historical vignettes that brought the family through history from the 1700s (Battle of Culloden) to the present day. Each novel was written to stand alone, although characters overlap. I confess that I got hooked on the research, but then, I’ve always had an “enquiring mind”!
 
Obviously, with First Street Church as the world for which I was writing, the stories were designed to fit neatly into its sweet, clean, Christian categories, which (luckily for me!) have a large following. I have kept my stories within those bounds and can (and have!) recommend them for ALL ages. In fact, one of my early reviews suggested the book seemed to have been written for a twelve year old (sorry, don’t remember which of the three dozen plus I’ve published to date was targeted), because the bedroom was ignored. That has always been a deliberate choice. I read nearly everything, but choose to write something the nine-year old me, discovering the library, could safely check out. (I think that is about when I discovered the Perry Mason books of Erle Stanley Gardner, which, although murder mysteries, check all the boxes!)
 
When Amazon discontinued the Kindle World concept about a year later, I’d already completed and published those three books, and was working on a fourth, when the first round of revisions and realignments occurred. My Love’s Odds, was reconfigured a bit to meet the new series guidelines, and republished, but before I could tweak the next two, that process was put on hold, and a third reworking of the series occurred. I ultimately regained rights to all three of my stories, all of which (still) need further editing to remove any common elements from the original World. Unfortunately for them, by then I’d gone in a different direction.
 
Meanwhile, while working with the First Street Church series, one of my fellow authors, Jane Lebak, and I penned a short gothic/horror novel. Still modern, but also set in Texas, the story, Hunger: A Texas Gothic Romance [Hunger: A Texas Gothic Romance], received critical acclaim from horror writer Susan May, to our absolute delight!  (Susan’s books compete fiercely with Stephen King’s!) Hunger was a “one off,” but I’d be delighted to work with Jane again!
 
Shortly thereafter I was honored to be invited to contribute to the first of a number of highly successful MAPs (Multiple Author Project series) created by Australian author Cheryl Wright, and then others to whom she introduced me. However, as mentioned above, I have not had a chance to redo/republish my First Street Church novels. (ON MY TO DO LIST!)
 
By chance, Cheryl’s series were all in historical western romance genre. I had discovered, while penning Love’s Laird, that I enjoyed doing the research necessary to ensure my settings were relatively accurate, and was delighted to share my love of the western life style and landscape. Having grown up with television westerns, Roy Rogers, the Bonanza crew, Gunsmoke, Little House on the Prairie, and more, and also having spent some time living in the “Wild West, I was very comfortable with the territory and the genre.
 
My next three novels were for the Christmas Rescue [Christmas Rescue] series, for which I ended up writing three books, with overlapping backgrounds and family members. Again I found myself creating my own sub-series within the larger series of books that were related only by premise. Although some MAPs do integrate their stories among the various authors, in most cases it is more a case of writing to the same theme that unites the series. Thus one can enjoy a delightful variety of approaches to the same subject matter.

Off and running, I have now published thirty-seven books (in a number of genre’s, but all loosely “western”). All are in Kindle Unlimited, two are also available through Audible) and I have two more in the immediate hopper. Follow me on any of the sites below to be notified of new releases or sales, or to keep in touch:
 
Amazon:                      https://www.amazon.com/Elissa-Strati/e/B077GLWD94
BookBub:                    https://www.bookbub.com/profile/elissa-strati
BookSeriesInOrder:    https://www.bookseriesinorder.com/elissa-strati/
Facebook:                    https://www.facebook.com/ElissaStratiAuthor/
Goodreads:                  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17307510.Elissa_Strati
 
 (Note: Although many are interrelated, each of my books is designed to be read on its own.)
 
 
Paty:  You have a lot of Mail Order Bride books. Why do you like to write like to write this type of story?
 
Elissa: The simple answer is that I write what I like to read. But I actually read in just about every genre (and have written in several!).
A number of the MAPs (Multiple Author Project series) for which I have written have had specific themes involving Mail-Order Brides (MOBs). I suspect I am not alone in being able to create a quick outline of elements to include in almost any concept proffered (witness the burgeoning numbers of authors whose work is available!), but then I let “the back of my brain”* do the hard work and create the tale. *(This is not a scientific description of how the brain works, merely my own concept thereof  ;o].)
The fact that a large number of my titles involve MOBs is pure happenstance, based on conspicuity. The theme is extremely popular, so a lot of the series designers “jumped on the bandwagon” to create a concept that would sell! Meanwhile, the idea of hitching two complete strangers, whatever other parameters are suggested by the series creator, allows enormous depth and breadth for storytelling! Oh, what fun!
 
I have been exceptionally fortunate in the friends I have made in the author community, and honored to have been invited to contribute to so many best-selling series. It is an enormous amount of work to put together a group, and then “herd the cats” to completion. But the imagination and creativity to come up with a concept that will garner interest, the “recipe,” if you will, is the first step.
 
 
Paty:  Is there a particular era of the old west that you like to write about?
 
 Elissa:  Many of the MAP series for which I write specify specific locations (generally west of the Mississippi) and time frames (usually post-Civil War), but I seem to have a talent for slipping outside the box a bit. My “wagon train” book, written for author Caryl McAdoo’s Prairie Rose series [Helen: Prairie Roses Collection Book 30], is set primarily in the year 1812, long before wagon trains were heading across the western plains, and starts in Ireland! I managed to cram a lot of real history into this one (Yes, the rumor is true—there are footnotes!—but only for those who enjoy fact-checking. They are totally unnecessary to the flow of the story.) The fact is that folks were heading west from the time they left the “old world,” and many continued into open spaces. In addition to his Mount Vernon plantation, for instance, George Washington owned large tracts of land well west of the settled areas, where, should his efforts in the Revolution have failed, he was prepared to decamp.
 
On the other end of the spectrum is my World War I novel, Ellen [Ellen: Rescue Me - (Mail Order Brides) Book 10]. The “western era,” as portrayed in the movies and on TV, had largely drawn to a close as train travel and civilization took over, and the country now went from coast to coast, although a number of the territories had not yet attained statehood.

 So, the short answer to the question is “no,” despite a significant number of my stories taking place just after the Civil War (with occasional flashbacks). The fact is, I tend to think in terms of families and villages, and have often looked at a concept and thought, for example, “Oh, what a great way to approach Barnabas’s story!” (My second Christmas Rescue story: [Rescuing Barnabas (Christmas Rescue Book 11)].) Barnabas was absolutely a secondary character in the first book, [Rescuing Christmas (Christmas Rescue Book 4)], but perfect for one Charles’ (the hero of my first novel in this series) relatives.
 
 
Paty: You have been in several “worlds” in historical western romance. Are those fun to write for?
 
Elissa: Again a quick answer! Absolutely! I freelance and not under contract to anyone (although I do consider an agreement to join a particular group to be a contract; one hardly likes to let down friends!) I am continually amazed at the originality of new ideas, as well as the wide variety of author responses to the challenges.
 
 
Paty: How did the plot idea for this book come to you?
 
 Elissa: As in all the MAPs, I was given the premise, in this case a Mail-Order Groom who is rejected by his bride-to-be, a reversal of an earlier series, involving most of the same authors, featuring Mail-Order Brides. (My contribution to the first series was [Lina’s Lasting Legacy (Rejected Mail-Order Brides - Book 5)], which continues to be quite popular.) But in this case, it was the book cover that was my biggest influence, when I realized my hero would have to be the brother of John Henderson, and the son of Mrs. Cornelius (Rachel) Henderson, a schoolteacher introduced in my very first MAP novel. I did not notice initially, but the model is actually the same as for a [A Cattleman for Cathleen: Mail-Order Papa].
           
The model is a rugged, good-looking cowboy, and, like Fabio in days past (my mother’s favorite!) adorns quite a few covers. Besides, William has his own interesting story to tell. After all, he wasn’t always tall and strong. He was once a little boy, and slow to start his growth spurt, although, with older brothers, he understood that girls could be pretty important in life. But, clearly the premise of the book means he will not have an easy time of it, finding true love. However, no spoilers!
 
 
Paty: Do you have a favorite character or world that you’ve written?
 
Elissa: Well, obviously, the character about whom I am writing is always the one creeping into my heart, as s/he whispers hopes, fears and aspirations into my ear. With that charming grin, William has already joined the cast of favorites. As to worlds, although when I wrote my first novel, we had been “given” the modern community in Texas hill country in which to build our tales, when that world disbanded, I realized Texas has a lot of towns and I could simply move my cast to their own. I have since created from scratch (using San Antonio’s early history as a platform) a town in Texas now called Apple Valley for my Texas-based stories, and another in southeast Kansas, known as Green River. Both locations showed up in my Christmas Rescue books and one or the other features in most of my novels. I’m filling in their history all the time as I jump back and forth through the decades.
 
 
Paty: Who are some of the authors you read who write this subgenre of romance?
 
Elissa: Like many of us, I read across the spectrum, in virtually every genre, and have done for more than (***ty) decades. Initially, I carefully avoided reading books by other authors with whom I was writing, to steer clear of any possible inadvertent borrowing of concepts. Also, as you know, I was a technical editor for many years and cannot stop myself from highlighting the oversights (that I seem unable to catch in my own manuscripts!) and occasional typos I may run across. Since I do some reading/reviewing for a few of the major publishers, as well as individuals, I am used to passing these errata on to them—or the author. Not everyone is thick-skinned…

You write modern westerns that happen to be murder mysteries, and, as you know, I adore them!
Suffice it to say I have read widely and enjoyed many, many different authors with whom I write. I cannot guarantee that every book in a multi-author series will appeal to everyone, but based on the popularity of those in which I’ve been privileged to write, you will probably enjoy them as much as I!
 
Paty: Just for fun – Tell us what is your favorite thing to do besides writing and reading, because we know that’s a given. 😉
 
Elissa: Ha, ha! Even as I am writing this I am accompanied by several of my feline companions, who ensure my legs remain warm, as I prop myself up in bed on pillows to write. (This is not due to illness or infirmity, but preference. Sitting at a desk chair typing is torture. I’m too tall to comfortably read the screen without hunching over, and my legs seem to lose circulation, pressured by the chair as I lean forward. With pillows (and cats) conveniently located to position me optionally, and my legs up and free from swelling, I can relax and focus on work instead of physical discomfort. I also have a cup of coffee to hand on my nightstand, and the whole bed on which to spread my other bits and pieces.
 

So cuddling with the cats is clearly a favorite pastime. I also enjoy cooking—as long as it doesn’t become a chore. Fortunately my husband also loves to cook, especially exploring his mother’s Italian recipes (some of which are featured in [Lasagna by Lucia: Old Timey Holiday Kitchen Book 15]).
Unfortunately, I haven’t had the time to do handwork for many years. I used to love to knit, crochet, and do needlework (and always wanted to learn to quilt!). At one time I did a bit of painting, but TIME is not my friend, and I also run our family businesses (I can create a mean spreadsheet!), which I also enjoy (when not under pressure). We like to travel a great deal, as well, although a lot of that is road trips these days, generally exploring history, human and natural. I take a LOT of pictures, and bless the continued advance of technology (although I have bad words and thoughts for those who push products out of the chute that aren’t ready for prime time!) that allows me to capture the man, rabbit, or woman in the moon (depending on which culture you learned from) with my telephone. Many of those I turn into jigsaw puzzles, again taking advantage of online tech.

 Hmmm, I also enjoy dancing, dining, getting together with friends and family—all the usual suspects… (I am somewhat addicted to ellipses…) And, of course, I spend the requisite amount of time each morning engaging in Wordle, Dordle, Quordle, Octordle, and Sedecordle (brand name credit to each of the creators thereof). I mean, WORDS! I am an author, after all!
 
Thank you so much for allowing me to share my thoughts and ideas with you today!
 
Best,
 
Elissa Strati

William's Wandering Ways (Rejected Mail-Order Groom Book 3)


by Elissa Strati (Author), Books by Nan (Illustrator) Format: Kindle Edition

Book 3 of 10: Rejected Mail-Order Grooms

If they don't want me, then I don't need them!

William wasn't even out of grammar school when he received his first rejection. His next two attempts at romance were equally rejected, and he made his mind up that women simply weren't for him, and stopped trying to attract the attention of the opposite gender. Leaving his three brothers to help Pa on the ranch, he signed on as a wrangler to guide his family stock in the upcoming cattle drive and forget about girls. That was his plan and he was sticking to it. Of course, the best laid plans...


This series and its predecessor, Rejected Mail-Order Brides, are the brain-child of author Sarah Lamb (whose books I enjoy immensely). The premise is in the series name! Dealing with the rejection is one of the aspects on which I will be focusing, although each author will have her own approach. Like all of my books, this is sweet and wholesome. A quick shout out to ALL my fellow (sister?) authors in this hugely popular series! I think folks will have a bit of extra fun with the twist on the original set of stories.

https://www.amazon.com/Williams-Wandering-Rejected-Mail-Order-Groom-ebook/dp/B0DT5Y8JMJ


Saturday, August 13, 2022

Saving Old Stories by Bonnie Hobbs

          A rough draft of a “new” novel is finished. It must sit a while before the rewriting begins. So, maybe now is a good time to clean off that ‘behind the door’ bookshelf’s dark and mysterious place. The place way at the bottom behind the table covered with a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle that will lie unfinished for, well, who knows?

          Folders are pulled out, dust wiped away and…what’s this? 

Stories. 

Outlines of stories. Written in a handwriting that looks familiar. Ah, yes, it’s my handwriting, only legible, not like today’s handwriting that scrawls all over first drafts to the point I can’t quite read what I meant and hope I remember, and if I don’t? Well, then I guess the change wasn’t so necessary after all.

          But back to this bookshelf and its mysteries: some of the outlines are actually typed. But truly typed. Not on a keyboard attached to a magical screen that can perform all kinds of magic tricks. No. A typewriter! All these words have been saved. Ideas I didn’t know I had, yet…I recognize a few as being part of a now published novel. Words I wrote and put aside and didn’t think of again until the deep part of my brain must have recalled them.

          I sit on the floor, (no easy feat) and spread all the folders and their contents around me. Sticky notes that are way past sticky flutter like moths when I lift a notebook. One says, “Texas. Ghosts, death, love and redemption.” There’s an idea I didn’t know I ever had. (or maybe never should have had) Sounds more like a biography of my grandma than a Historical Romance.

          Yet the more I paw through it all, the more ideas are seeming do-able. I realize now that I likely wrote most of this down when I wanted to write, craved the time and quiet to write. I knew that someday the two small kids would grow up and I might retire from the full-time job and I would use these ideas.

          Well, that time has definitely come. But the ideas that seemed to pour out of me back then just don’t any more. I struggle for new plots, new characters. I have educated myself about writing, gone to conventions, entered contests, was a finalist in a few and read countless books about plotting and characterization and the use of dialogue. I have done all that. I have been published, I have an agent. But the ideas that lie all over the floor around me now seem to have come from someone else. I’m going to read them all and chuckle about some and use others, or maybe even parts of others.

          Some, I’m going to discard. It’s definitely past time to give some a decent burial. Keeping them, even hidden from myself, has been a good idea, now that I’ve found them. I’m thankful I didn’t throw them away. Using them may or may not be a good idea. I’ll have to wait and see how it works out.

          Oh, but first I have a rough draft to polish (likely about three times) before I take a closer look at that complete outline of “Texas: ghosts, love, death and redemption.”

About Bonnie: 

Bonnie Hobbs grew up in California’s rural central coast, earning degrees in Women’s Studies, Society and Justice, and nursing. She began her nursing career caring for birthing women and ending it caring for hospice patients. 

Drawing from her father’s passion for history and her mother’s love of romantic mysteries, she writes about struggle and triumph, love and loss in the lives of women of the American frontier: Native women, European and Asian immigrants and the daughters of immigrants, Black women enslaved and free, women lured or bullied as well as inspired to move on, always westward. 

She shares a home in southern Oregon with her husband. Their blended family of five grown children have given them fourteen grandchildren, the newest baby boy born in March.


Monday, August 1, 2022

A free novella by Paty Jager

After years of being asked to put short stories in various anthologies, I finally put them all together in what I call my Western Duets. 

All of the stories are historical western romance. Some have secondary characters from my historical western romance novels and others were just ideas that crept into my conscience, and I decided to write a short story. 

Some of the stories deal with holidays and some don't. You can find links to the Western Duets at this page on my website: NOVELLA - Mystery and Romance Books - Paty Jager

Here is a short story that is usually given to readers who sign up for my historical western romance newsletter. Today, you get to read the first chapter without having to sign up for anything. And here is the bookfunnel link to download and read the whole thing. http://dl.bookfunnel.com/ul0codovbg

Hettie’s Hero

by Paty Jager

 

Prologue

Washington D.C.

Spring 1889

Caleb Jamison did a final inspection of his suit coat. Not a single politician at the event would find fault with either his dress or his entrance. With Senator Ingall’s beautiful daughter on his arm, he’d not only make a statement that he was worthy of the president pro tempore’s daughter, but he was ready to press his way into the old guard folds of Washington politics.

He snatched up his hat and pulled the door to his boarding house room open. Mrs. Yardley stood across the threshold, her face shiny from the exertion of climbing the stairs to his second-story room.

“This came in the mail for you today.” She held out an envelope. “You snuck in while I was finishing up the preserves.”

He took the offered letter. His stomach twisted as he recognized Edith Johnson’s hand writing.

His landlady’s voice buzzed in his ear as he stared at the missive. Why a letter from the foreman’s wife and not his mother?

A tug on his sleeve jerked his gaze from the writing to the wrinkled face of Mrs. Yardley.

“Where you headed tonight all gussied up?”

“A dinner in honor of Senator Ingalls’ wife’s birthday.” He backed up and shut the door in the woman’s face. Why had Edith written to him? If something happened to Louie his mother would have written. He plopped onto the bed and opened the letter slowly.

The first sentence blurred as he read it.

There’s no easy way to say this.

He rubbed his eyes and continued down the page.

Your ma, pa, and sister took sick three weeks ago. We did all we could. Doc Martin spent three days here trying everything he knew, but in the end the good Lord took them from us.

We know you left here to make things better for the people of Montana, but right now, the Rocking J needs you.

Respectfully,

Edith and Louie

The letter slipped from his fingers. He dropped his head to his hands as a sob barked from his throat. He swiped his eyes, grabbed his satchel, and crammed his clothes inside. The ranch had been his father’s life. Now, it looked like it would be his.

 


 

Chapter One

1890 Montana

Late summer

 

“We’re lost ain’t we?”

“Aunt Hettie, are we lost?”

“No, we are not lost. We’re just temporarily off course.” Hettie Burke tugged on the reins halting the two draft horses hitched to the wagon. She sighed and glanced at her dark-haired six-year-old niece and nephew on the seat beside her. Tommy already had the arrogance and know-it-all attitude of a man, and Sally peered up at her with the same green eyes of her mother, Hettie’s sister. She’d give anything to have her sister and brother-in-law alive and not have the responsibility of getting to her teaching job and being the parent of two children.

The man at the livery in the last town told her to keep heading west and she’d run into a well-traveled trail that would take her to the thriving gold town of Garnet. They had all been headed there when misfortune hit. Robert had been asked to take over the church, and she had the possibility of a teaching job.

Staying due west had proven daunting, and now, as she stayed to the only trail suitable for a wagon, the sun setting in the west was to her left.

“The man said go west.” Tommy pointed to the quickly lowering sun. “West is the direction the sun goes at night.”

“I know, but do you see a road or a way to go straight toward the sun?” Since losing their parents, Tommy had become more incorrigible and Sally more introverted. And Hettie wanted to put her face in her hands and bawl. She was too young to be a parent. She left a beau in Kansas because he wanted to start having a family and she wasn’t ready.

She laughed. Not a sarcastic huff but a hysterical chortle.

“Aunt Hettie, are you all right?” Sally’s small hand patted her arm.

Pull yourself together. You’re all they have. The voice that had been her constant companion since losing Robert and Joan sounded like her mother and always snapped her to attention. She’d never wanted to disappoint her mother.

Laughter and music drifted to her ears.

“Do you hear that?” Tommy asked, leaning forward on the hard, wooden, wagon seat.

“Yes, maybe we can camp by someone tonight and have a little company besides ourselves.” Hettie slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps and followed the road and cheerful sounds, hoping for some adult conversation.

The road curved and out in the middle of a meadow sat three wagons and six tents. Women, dressed in their undergarments or flowing see-through robes, sat on stools talking and laughing while a large man bent at the campfire. The aroma of roasting meat pooled saliva in her mouth. Their supplies were low and since she didn’t have the stomach to kill an animal and Tommy, though he tried, was too young, they’d eaten only beans and biscuits the last two weeks.

The laughter died and all eyes peered at them as she stopped the horses far enough back to avoid tossing dust on the meal.

The only fully clad woman stood and walked forward. “You look like you could use some food and some company.”

Hettie nodded her head as tears burned behind her eyes.

“We’re lost,” Tommy said, staring pointedly at Hettie.

“Now I’m sure your ma knows where she’s going.” The woman motioned to the man at the fire. “Howard, help them down.”

“She ain’t our ma. She’s Aunt Hettie.” Tommy scrambled down from the lofty wagon before the man could help him.

Howard stretched his big bulky arms up to Sally and lifted her off the wagon like plucking an apple from a tree, then held his arms out to Hettie. She fastened the reins around the brake handle like her pa taught her and slid across to the burly man. He winked and smiled before carefully placing his hands at her waist and lifting her down, backing away as soon as her feet hit the dirt.

“Pearl and Ivory, take these two to the barrel and wash them up for dinner.” The woman waved her thin arm toward the children. Two women, both looking younger than Hettie, put an arm around her niece and nephew, leading them to the back of one of the wagons.

“Now, Miss…?”

“Burke. Hettie Burke.” She removed her leather gloves and watched the young women talking with the twins. Though they were dressed indecent, they seemed to be carrying on decent conversation.

The woman reached out and grasped Hettie’s hand. “Miss Burke, Hettie. Your niece and nephew are in good hands. Both Pearl and Ivory come from large families.”

She stared at the thin, short woman. Sparkling bobs hung from her ear lobes, and her dress was cut so low half her full breasts were revealed. She studied the group of women and realized the depravation she’d brought Robert and Joan’s children into.

“Sally, Tommy, get back up on the wagon.”

“But the food smells so good,” Tommy whined.

At that moment her stomach growled.

“You can’t deny yourself or these beautiful children a good meal.” The woman steered her toward a stool and pushed her down on the hard seat.

Hettie started to rise.

The woman’s hand on her shoulder held her on the seat. “If you want to move on after we eat I won’t stop you. But I won’t let your prudishness deprive those children of home cooking.”

“You don’t understand. I’m all they have. I have to make the right decisions and their father, God rest his soul, would not forgive me if I stayed here.”

“He’d want his children fed wouldn’t he?” The woman motioned to Howard, and he dished up plates, handing them to Sally and Tommy.

The delicious aroma of yeast bread, roasted meat, and something tangy drifted to Hettie and her stomach rumbled in appreciation.

“When was the last time you had a meal?” Howard asked, handing her a plate.

“We had cold biscuits this morning,” she said, picking up the rabbit leg with her fingers and biting into the juicy meat.

“I’m Miss Veronica.” The woman accepted a plate from Howard and sat next to her. “How long have you three been traveling alone?”

Hettie chewed and swallowed a couple more bites then wiped her mouth with the cloth Howard handed her.

“Robert and Joan, my sister, passed a month ago. We’ve kept a steady pace since on our way to Garnet. Robert was going to be the new preacher and the city council said I could apply for the teaching position.” She placed a hand on her chest to ease the knot of pain that always swelled when she thought of her sister and brother-in-law’s deaths.

“What happened to their parents?” Miss Veronica asked, nodding in Sally and Tommy’s direction.

“We came upon a small group of wagons about a month and a half ago. They had sickness. Robert said it was his duty to help, and Joan insisted she help as well. They left the kids and I camped within sight of the others but far enough away no one from their camp staggered into ours, and we kept away just like Robert and Joan asked.” She swallowed the painful lump bobbing in her throat. Why did they have to be so self-sacrificing?

“You don’t have to tell us any more, I understand what happened.” Miss Veronica patted her hand. “But why didn’t you go back? Surely you had family you could return to?”

Hettie shook her head. She’d never go back. “Joan and these two are all the family I have. Had.” Now it was just the twins and her. She had to raise her sister’s children. Panic always crept up her throat at the thought. The woman peered at her expectantly. She swallowed the lump and continued, “And we’re closer to Garnet than Kansas.”

“I take it Robert was your brother-in-law? What about his family?” The older woman’s whispered questions didn’t reach the children.

She barely heard them. It surprised her the woman would be that respectful for the children’s sake. She responded in a whisper. “He was the only good one out of his family. The rest are outlaws and drunks. I wouldn’t send a coyote to those people.” She straightened her back and peered at the children, enjoying berry cobbler with cream. It would take her a long time to bring in enough money to provide them with this much bounty in one meal.

The woman tapped her shoulder, gaining her attention. “Let’s take a walk.”

Hettie starred at the children, eating their dessert.

“I’ll save you a helping, Miss Hettie,” Howard said, winking.

She liked the big man and smiled back. “Thank you.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had cobbler with cream. Cream? She hadn’t seen a milk cow tied up anywhere around the camp when they rode in.

The madam linked her arm with Hettie’s, and they wandered away from the chatting group around the fire. The sun had set and the area beyond the wagons grew dark and sinister as she strolled arm in arm with what she now believed was a soiled dove, or so Robert called them.

“Miss Veronica,” she drew her arm from the woman’s. “I appreciate you sharing dinner with us, but we need to move on.”

“No, you don’t. It’s dark and you don’t know what could be lurking out there. You and the children will stay with us until morning. Howard is a wonderful protector, and those children could use one more good meal.”

“I don’t disagree with you there. I haven’t the stomach to shoot an animal so we’ve been living off of biscuits and beans.” She looked back at the cozy setting around the campfire. “But if you’re what I think you are, I can’t have Robert’s children sleeping next to—” she stopped before she put her foot in her mouth. “Well, you should understand, Robert being a preacher, he wouldn’t like us staying here.”

“Hettie, you and the children aren’t safe alone. We’re going to be here for another week. How about you stay with us? When we head back to Missoula we’ll escort you to Garnet. In the mean time we can feed you and keep you safe.”

“That’s right kind, but we don’t need charity from— well, we’ll be fine on our own.” Deep down she wanted to take her up on the offer. To have a woman, even one who sold her body to men, to talk to about the children and her concerns about raising them would be wonderful. Miss Veronica had a motherly quality about her that Hettie needed badly right now. She’d never been out on her own. She went from Ma and Pa’s household when they passed to her sister’s. Though she helped with the chores, she’d kept her mind on her studies and getting a teaching certificate. She hadn’t paid attention to the details of running a household or raising children.

“I’m not offering charity. I’m offering a business arrangement.”

“Oh no! I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” Her face heated, and her heart hammered. She knew what soiled doves did. She’d listened in on men’s conversations at the socials. These women gave their bodies to men not their husbands for money.

The madam grasped her arm and shook her. “I’m not talking about bedding men, though you’d bring a fine price with your curves and pretty face.”

Hettie shook out of the woman’s grip and clutched her arms across her chest. She shook her head. “We need to leave.”

The older woman looked at their wagon. Hettie followed her gaze. Someone, probably Howard, had unhitched the horses and staked them out with the others.

“It looks like Howard thinks it’s best for you to stay the night as well. My proposition is this. Help Howard with the cooking, the girls with their washing, and you and the children can stay with us until we head back to town.”

She peered through the gathering darkness trying to see the woman clearly. “Just cook and clean? And we can stay at our wagon, away from all of you?”

“I insist. I wouldn’t want the children exposed to the men who’ll be showing up any minute.”

“You mean you—men— out here? Where do they come from, the men?” She couldn’t fathom these woman finding men out here. They hadn’t seen a homestead or town the last two days.

“We’re camped at the corners of three large ranches. And this is the route taken by sheepherders to get their flocks to market.”

She’d no sooner finished and the sound of horses approached.

“Gather the children and settle in at your wagon for the night. We’ll finish discussing our arrangement tomorrow.” Miss Veronica walked regally toward the incoming horses.

“Gentlemen, right on time.” She extended her arms as though embracing the men still mounted on their horses.

Hettie hurried to the campfire and gathered up the twins. “Come on. We need to make room in the wagon for our beds.”

“Why? We usually sleep under the wagon?” Tommy crossed his arms and stared at her.

“We’ll discuss it at the wagon.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him as Sally skipped along beside them.

“Why are those ladies in their unmentionables?” Sally asked as she bounced alongside Hettie.

“We’ll discuss that at the wagon as well.” She glanced over her shoulder and stopped in her tracks. A man as tall as Howard stood beside Miss Veronica and the cook. He stared at her, his eyes sparkling in the campfire light. Her breath caught in her throat. His blond hair sparkled in the moonlight like stars when he removed his Stetson. Surely, her eyes played tricks. No man that handsome would be in need of this kind of woman.

“Why’d we stop?” Tommy asked loudly.

She jerked on his arm and continued to the wagon. She’d turn Miss Veronica down in the morning, and they’d continue on their way. She could feel Robert and Joan’s outrage deep in her bones. This was not a place for their children.

~*~
If you enjoyed this first chapter feel free to download the rest of the book from Bookfunnel and check out my website with all my other historical western romance books. 


Monday, June 3, 2019

Marriage of Convenience by Paty Jager


I've never been a romance reader who had to have certain tropes in the romance books I read. One of my least favorite is marriage of convenience.

Yet, that was the trope I used in my very first book in the Letters of Fate series historical western romance series. Davis, the book,  starts out with Davis Weston riding on an Army freight wagon headed to his wedding to a woman he's never met.

The premise of my Letters of Fate series deals with men receiving letters that change their lives and helps them find their wives.

In the case of Davis, he has lost a wife and child and wishes to leave the area where his neighbors look at him as if he didn't do enough to save them. His sister, who is friends with the woman he is marrying, suggested he come west and help out her friend who has two children and a cattle ranch.

Here is a scene from the wedding:


Davis knew the man who walked through the door must be the Justice of the Peace. On the ride from Roaring Springs Ranch to J.P.’s ranch, his brother-in-law had told Davis the man was meeting them here.
Mariella wasn’t unpleasant to look at. She had light brown, curly hair. He knew it was curly because of the wisps curling around her face, otherwise it was pulled up in a bun. The smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks gave her a youthful appearance. Talking with Mariella, her hazel eyes changed with her mood. His first sight of her had pleased him. She was nothing like his dainty Sarah. There was no comparison to his late wife. The dress Mariella wore showed off her wide child-baring hips, ample breasts, small waist, and broad shoulders. And her height. She stood a good two inches taller than his five-ten.
What did concern him was her riding and working cattle like a man. Granted she was as big as many men and no doubt strong, but a mother should care for the children.
“Davis, this is Mr. Cline, the Justice of the Peace, I was telling you about,” J.P. said, leading the man over to Davis.
Davis stood, shook hands with the man, and wondered if he should go through with this.
After they shook hands, Mr. Cline turned to Mariella. “Mrs. Swanson, are you sure you’re ready to remarry?”
Mariella shook her head. “I’m not sure. But Peter French has given me no choice.”
The venom as she said the other rancher’s name, caught Davis’s attention. He felt there was more to the feud than she was telling. Her indecision about marrying after meeting him was a bit of a blow to his ego. He hadn’t expected her eyes to light up with interest when they met, but her having second thoughts after talking with him didn’t give him hope of an easy marriage.
Ernestine moved to put an arm around Mariella’s waist. “Mr. Cline, I’m sure you’ve heard how Mr. French is pushing squatters and homesteaders out of Blitzen Valley. He’s now trying to take Blitzen Canyon. That is Mariella and her children’s home. She needs a husband to keep her land. My brother needed a change in his life. This is a good thing.”
Davis stared at his sister. She didn’t need to tell a stranger his problems. This matter was between him and Mariella. He held out a hand to Mariella. “We need to talk alone.”
Mariella ignored his outstretched hand, but headed for the door of the house. He followed, tossing over his shoulder. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Outside, standing in the warm May sunshine, Davis walked over to where Mariella stood stroking a harnessed horse’s neck.
“Mariella, I understand this marriage is being forced on you. That you’d rather deal with it on your own but can’t. I didn’t want to remarry. Ever. It’s too painful to lose someone you love. You know this, having lost your husband brutally.”
She nodded and wiped at her tears with her fingers.
“What we have to decide isn’t if we will ever love one another, but can we get along. Do you think we can work together to keep your ranch?” Davis leaned against the wagon wheel behind the horse she pet.
Mariella cleared her throat. “I don’t know about getting along. You seem a bit citified to help on the ranch, but if you can help me keep this ranch, I’m willing to give it a try. I’m running out of choices.”
“All I can tell you is I will do my best to help you keep the ranch. My goal in coming here was to change my life and leave memories behind. Helping you may just be my only salvation.” Davis didn’t know why, but since seeing the woman, he wanted to help her keep a ranch he’d never seen.
“You seem to be a reasonable man and with some intelligence. I’d be a fool to turn down someone willing to help.” Mariella held out her hand.
Davis felt stung a bit by the ‘man of some intelligence’ comment but he understood her desperation. He clasped her hand and they shook.
“Come on. Let’s make this legal so you can explain all the problems on the way to the ranch.”
Mariella smiled. The first one he’d witnessed since meeting her. Her eyes turned a golden brown and her face glowed with youthfulness. That smile took his breath away.
He motioned for her to precede him into the house so they could get the legalities of this out of the way.
Mr. Cline read the official wedding narrative, had them sign a paper, and they all sat down to a delicious dinner prepared by Ernestine.
Davis was pleased to see that his new bride didn’t eat huge helpings like a man, but she also didn’t pick and push her food around.
After the meal, they hugged Ernestine, and Davis shook hands with J.P. and Mr. Cline.
“Come see me soon!” Ernestine called as Mariella drove the horses and wagon out of the Mulligan’s yard and out to the road he and J.P. had taken to get to the homestead from Roaring Springs.
“How far is the ranch from here?” Davis asked as the horses settled into a lengthened walk.
“About an hour. Depending on how many times we get stopped.”
The venom he’d heard in her voice earlier when mentioning Mr. French stung her words.
“What do you mean by stopped?” He wasn’t understanding a lot of things this woman said.
“We have to cross land Mr. French uses for his cattle. He has riders who stop anyone crossing his land.” Mariella glanced at him. “He’s fenced in land he doesn’t own. His cattle graze it, and he keeps everyone else off.”
“How can he fence land he doesn’t own?”
“I don’t know, but he has, and he’s keeping people from their land because of it.”
Davis had never heard of this. “Have you talked to a law official about the legality of his fencing?”
“The closest one is Canyon City. That’s four days from here. I can’t spare the time to ride up there.” Mariella sighed. “I couldn’t really spare the time to meet and marry you.” She glanced over. “I’m sorry. That didn’t sound like I appreciate a complete stranger marrying me to help me save the ranch. I do appreciate you coming all this way to help me. Ernestine and I have been good friends since they arrived in the Blitzen Valley. When she said she’d asked you to come out here and marry me…I was mad at her. She’d aired my troubles to a complete stranger.” Mariella turned her gaze on him. The golden brown of her eyes had turned to a sobering brown. “I couldn’t believe when you’d accepted her offer.” Her cheeks reddened. “To be honest, I didn’t expect—” she waved her hand up and down, “—this.”
Davis smiled. Probably the first genuine smile in over a year. “You aren’t what I expected either.”


This book is available alone on in a box set that just released.

Letters of Fate Trilogy


Three historical western novels filled with steamy romance and the rawness of a growing country.
Davis
Davis Weston receives a letter from his sister asking him to marry a friend. Widowed with two small children and a ranch to run, Mariella Swanson knows she needs help, but isn’t sure her heart, or neighbors, will accept her marrying a stranger. Can the two compromise or will fate once again leave them alone?

Brody
After receiving a letter, Brody Yates finds himself escorted across the country to work on a ranch rather than entering prison. However, a revenge driven criminal, the Oregon high desert, and his grandfather’s beautiful ward may prove more dangerous than anything he’d faced on the New York docks.

Isaac
The last thing Isaac Corum needs or wants is a snooty woman. Dang it all, the woman doesn’t do a single blasted thing she’s told, and Isaac can’t just sit back and let her go traipsing off into the mountains alone…
Universal buy link: https://books2read.com/u/47zp6R


Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 40 novels, 8 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery and western romance. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.

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