Behind the Scenes: Discovery

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

I'm so relieved to discover that the Characters in My Head are not dead! They're talking to me again.

Maybe they aren't the characters for the book I thought I was supposed to write, but these are just as important.

I've also discovered some names in my pretend genealogy, revealed as I wrote this morning. Finding out the names of Rod Owen's parents is almost as exciting as finding my own ancestors!

Rulon Peter Owen married Nellie Marie Yancey. Their only surviving child is Roderick Owen. I don't know yet if he has a middle name, but his son, Rulon, does.

I knew the name began with S, for that was revealed to me as I wrote Gone for a Soldier, when Rulon signed his name in a letter to his wife, Mary. A couple of days ago, I learned that his middle name is Scow, the surname of his maternal grandmother, Phoebe Scow Helm.

I know. All this sounds really freaky. This is part of the discovery process of some writers when they dig deep into their characters' lives. It's really quite thrilling to us, and not spooky at all.

Now go read a good book this weekend. May I suggest my latest full-length novel, The Zion Trail? Someone just posted on my Facebook profile that she's finishing up reading it. Oh, she said such lovely things that make my knees quake and my heart beat faster! Here's a part: "Great read. Wonderful history. Endearing characters. Better and better with each turned page."

You may purchase The Zion Trail in ebook formats or in print:

The Zion Trail

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
Ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store  

Print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Springs

Welcome to Sample Saturday! A new, prosperous-looking customer has walked through the door of Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium, and Wesley Haught has turned to be of service. He's had a busy morning, and his mood has been soured from an encounter with his younger brother, but now perhaps things were looking up.. 

This tidbit is from my forthcoming novella, Blood at Haught Springs.
~~~

Wes scraped up a smile for the new customer. “I'm sorry for the wait, sir. I'm Wesley Haught. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Ferrell Badger. I was informed that this is the place to lease property in town. Is that correct?” The man's voice held a no-nonsense note.

Wes's smile broadened. I thought that suit meant money. “Yes, sir. Haught Enterprises handles such transactions. I'm at your service.” He wouldn't bother calling Lonnie to take on the job like he was supposed to do, since he'd been acting like a jerk this morning. It would serve him right if Wes brought in the business instead. Maybe Dad will spare me a little praise, for once.

“I was given the name of Grove Haught.” The man pursed his lips. “Is he here?”

“He's my father,” Wes replied. He shook his head. “He's home mending from a broken leg.” Dad's injuries were somewhat more serious than merely a broken leg, but the stranger didn't need to know that. “I can help you, sir.” Much better than Lonnie can. “Does this concern a house?” He hoped it did. His glance shifted briefly to the girl, who was presently occupied in inspecting a bolt of lavender-colored cloth, feeling the texture of the fabric as she ran her fingers over the surface.

When Mr. Badger made a sound, Wes pulled his attention back to the man.

“A house, yes, but also a building. I noticed the brick structure at the corner appears to be vacant.”

Wes felt his pulse quicken. Two leases! “Ah. That was the bank, but the crisis a few . . .” His words trailed off as he realized he wasn't putting the town's best foot forward. “Yes, that building is available, Mr. Badger. I can show it to you right away.” I hope Lonnie swept it out this week.

He stooped to rummage for the key in a box beneath the counter, and ran the housing possibilities through his mind. The same financial downturn that had forced Banker Pierce from his business had left his large house empty, as well. The no-nonsense set of Mr. Badger's shoulders, combined with his fine suit, spoke of wealth and privilege. The man wouldn't look twice at the rundown Peterson homestead, but the banker's home was a much grander affair, well suited to a rich gentleman's needs.

Wes remembered the place well. After all, his father had built it for his mother when times had been better. Before she and his little sister had died. Before the pain of living in an empty house had become too overwhelming. Before Dad had sold the mansion to Mr. Pierce.

He straightened, holding two tagged keys in his palm. “We can also lease you a fine house, Mr. Badger. You may have seen it as you drove into town. The large white house beside the river?” He gestured in the direction of the site out of town.

The man seemed to consider his recall of the property for a moment. “That could fit my requirements,” he said, frowning a bit, as though he must inspect every inch to be sure.

“Since we can walk over to the bank building, I'll show you around that first, then I'll hitch up the buggy and take you out to see the house,” Wes said, his eyes wandering toward the daughter. “The young lady might like to give her thoughts on the habitation.” He hoped his voice held the same firm note of confidence that his father's always had as he tended to land and property affairs. Wes very much wanted to make the girl's acquaintance, as soon as he could.

“Yes, I suppose Nina should approve of the house,” Mr. Badger said.

Nina. That was her name. Wes's toes tingled. That hadn't happened over a female since Mary Beth Cockrum threw him over in favor of Calvin Greenwood six months before. Now the sensation had returned. Woo-eee! Nina!
~~~

While you're waiting to see what's next for Wes Haught, I suggest you pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail:

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store
print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

** I'm taking Saturday off this Week **

There was too much happening this week for me to get a post up. I know. It's terribly rude of me to get you accustomed to coming  here each Saturday and then to drop you quite unexpectedly.

I apologize! To atone for my lack of time management skills, I have for you a fabulous but limited offer (it comes with certain conditions):

To each of you who
1. emails me at marshaward.az@gmail.com
2. TODAY or TOMORROW (that's Saturday, April 2, and Sunday, April 3, 2016)
3. using the subject line of "Sample Saturday"
4. and tells me you miss Sample Saturday,

I will email you by Monday 5 p.m. MST with a

100% off coupon code

to apply to the "purchase" at Smashwords.com of the ebook version of your choice of my latest novel, The Zion Trail.

There's just one more condition to this offer.

5. When you have read the novel, leave a review at Amazon.com on the book's page. One or two sentences will do. Also mention that you received the book free in exchange for an honest review.

That's it! Act fast, follow the conditions, and The Zion Trail is yours FREE!

The Final Launch for The Zion Trail

At last! The Zion Trail is available in a print edition!

I know it's been a long wait, but the print book should be readily available for purchase at the following sites for $12.99:

CreateSpace  |  Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble

The book is sized at 5.5 by 8.5 inches, features a silky matte cover, and contains a lively tale of old-fashioned romantic adventures and derring-do, set in the early period of the LDS (Mormon) Church.

Here's the novel's description:
On a hot summer day, young Elijah Marshall stops plowing to give a drink of water to two strangers and invite them to lunch with his family. His neighborly act sets in motion events that will drastically change his future.

The strangers share a new religion, which the family embraces. But the neighbors want no part of Mormons. Multiple acts of unkindness and starvation drive the Marshall family to flee to the Mormon city on the banks of the Mississippi River, Nauvoo.

Then the path of Elijah's life takes perilous detours, with twists and turns he never expected to make.

In a 19th century coming-of-age story ranging from Pennsylvania to the Great Salt Lake Valley, Elijah plunges into harrowing adventures filled with sorrow, danger, and romance.

I quickly let you know that Elijah goes by the nickname of 'Lije' and that his family consists of father, mother, older sister, younger brother, and little sister. They live in a rural area of Pennsylvania, tilling the soil and raising the usual crops and livestock for the times.

From there, it gets complicated.

I hope you will enjoy reading The Zion Trail as much as I enjoyed writing it.

In case you prefer reading fiction in ebooks, here are those purchase links:
Kindle | Nook | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords (all ebook formats)

Sample Saturday - The Zion Trail

I hope you got your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are purchase links for you:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

"Once again, Marsha Ward has woven an exciting historical novel. Elijah Marshall's adventures, trials, and faith building experiences as he journeys on The Zion Trail will keep readers turning pages until the end!"
~Loralee Evans, author of The Shores of Bountiful, and other novels.

In this week's excerpt, Lije Marshall has come in from the fields for the noon meal and is surprised at the fare.
~~~

Ma was in the kitchen, putting slices of cold beef between slabs of bread.

“Is this for dinner, Ma?”

“Lije, it takes less time to prepare sandwiches than a meal. I don’t want to miss any more of the elders’ talk than I have to.” She wiped her hands on her apron, and I again noticed the bulge on her front side. Ma caught me looking at her stomach, and she laughed. “Yes, I’m going to have a child, Lije. This one will grow up knowing the right way to live.”

“What do you mean, Ma?” I suspected I knew the answer, but wanted confirmation.

“I’ll let your pa say. You go in and listen to the elders. I fear you haven’t heard enough of their preaching.”

“There’s been the work. Pa hasn’t ever let the work go before.”

She must have taken notice of my concern. “It’ll be all right soon, Lije. Pa’s been discussing religion with the elders all morning, and he’s about learned all there is to know about their church.” She smiled, a warm, secret smile that as much as told me what I wanted to know. “Now go in and take heed of the message.”

I went.
~~~

Remember to get your ebook copy of The Zion Trail:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

See you next week!

Fresh Book Friday - The Zion Trail

It's Friday!!! Can't stop dancing around the room. I get to feature my own novel today for Fresh Book Friday, so here are all the details:

Title: The Zion Trail
Author: Marsha Ward
Genre: Western Religious Fiction
Publisher: WestWard Books
Date of Publication: February 19, 2016
Price: $3.99 (ebook formats)
Print edition (March 25) $12.99

Book Description:
On a hot summer day, young Elijah Marshall stops plowing to give a drink of water to two strangers and invite them to lunch with his family. His neighborly act sets in motion events that will drastically change his future.

The strangers share a new religion, which the family embraces. But the neighbors want no part of Mormons. Multiple acts of unkindness and starvation drive the Marshall family to flee to the Mormon city on the banks of the Mississippi River, Nauvoo.

Then the path of Elijah's life takes perilous detours, with twists and turns he never expected to make.

In a 19th century coming-of-age story ranging from Pennsylvania to the Great Salt Lake Valley, Elijah plunges into harrowing adventures filled with sorrow, danger, and romance.

Excerpt:
I spent a nervous night under the wagon, anticipating my meeting with strangers. In truth, my family and I would be the interlopers, but that thought did not calm my anxiety. At last the dawn came, and with it, the Sabbath day. I ate the food Ma gave me, but it sat upon my stomach like a lump of rock: undigested and indigestible.

We left our camp nearly forty-five minutes before the appointed hour for the meeting, in case we should get lost. I had worked myself into quite an unsettled condition by the time I pulled the horses to a halt at the appointed street corner.

We had arrived in the center of the town. The streets were practically deserted, cloaked in an appropriate stillness for the Lord’s Day. However, I could see no building resembling a church.

“Are we there, Lije?” Mary Eliza called from the back of the wagon.

I groaned inwardly. She had asked that same question time and time again during our travels. I wondered how Pa stood her infantile questions.

“I’ll find out, Pumpkin.”

I looked from one building to the next, seeking to verify that we had come to the correct intersection in the city. Ma, who sat beside me on the wagon seat, looked as puzzled as I felt. She glanced at the paper in her hand, furrowed her brows, and nodded to me.

We were at the right location, but the directions we had been given had brought us to a saloon.

I stood and surveyed the four corners of the intersection. I was mistaken. I counted one, two, three, four saloons, each one firmly planted on its own corner.

“This cannot be correct,” I muttered, wrapping the lines around the brake handle. “I’ll go ask where the Mormon’s church house is to be found.” I vaulted to the ground and looked around for a friendly face I might approach for guidance.

A sandy-haired man dressed in his Sunday best, accompanied by a woman and four children, came into view from around a corner, walked past us, then stopped before the saloon closest to us. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.

Surely he wasn’t taking his family into that den of iniquity?

Sure enough, he unlocked the door, opened it, and headed inside.

Perplexed by his actions, I looked for another avenue for enlightenment, but none was at hand. Needing information, I sidled toward the man and his family, who were filing after him through the doorway.

I caught up to him inside the saloon. “I beg your indulgence,” I said. “Might you give me directions?”

“Certainly, brother,” he replied, which I thought was a strange greeting.

“I’m looking for the Mormon edifice.”

“Edifice?”

Perhaps I hadn’t imagined a grand enough structure. I tried again. “Cathedral?”

“Oh, you’re looking for their meeting place.”

“Yes, I—”

“You’ve found it, lad.”

“What? Here?” I looked around the bar room in confusion. A depiction of a wanton woman hanging behind the bar caused me to blush.

The man chuckled as the woman I presumed to be his wife handed him a covered basket. “Yes. We have no building of our own, so we rent the saloon. It’s closed on Sundays, you know.”

“You’re a Mormon?”

“Indeed, I am.” He stuck out his hand and grasped mine. “Ralph Peters, at your service. I’m the branch president here.”

“Branch president?” I shook his hand, wondering what the words signified.

He must have guessed at my confusion. “I’m the local leader. Are you of our faith?”

“Newly baptized,” I told him, and pointed toward the door. “My mother and my brother and sister are outside. The elders said we were to come here to meetings.”

He nodded and placed the basket upon the bar. As he took off his hat and coat and began to roll up his shirtsleeves, I shifted my gaze sideways at the bottles lined up behind the bar and noticed that a piece of cloth had been draped over the painting, thankfully covering the nakedness of the soiled woman.

I looked further around the room. A young man of about my age and his younger brother were engaged in stacking the tables in a corner. Bright red hair peeked out from under their caps. A girl nudged a chair into a row. Her braids were not red, but a pleasing yellow color.

Evidently ready to engage in more conversation, Mr. Peters said, “When they last stopped by, Elders Caldwell and Long mentioned they had made converts of several families out in the county. Did your father not come?”

“He’s laid up with injury,” I said. “My older sister is tending to him. He thought it important that we come.”

“And rightly so,” Mr. Peters said. “Saints must gather together for strength, particularly hereabouts.”

Remembering my manners, I gave my name, and that of my mother and siblings.

“Well now, young Brother Marshall, bring in your family and help us make the place decent. We’ll begin on the hour.”

Endorsements: 
“Once again, Marsha Ward has woven an exciting historical novel. Elijah Marshall's adventures, trials, and faith building experiences as he journeys on The Zion Trail will keep readers turning pages until the end!”
 ~Loralee Evans, author of The Shores of Bountiful, and other novels.

“Marsha Ward's genius rises to her highest peak in The Zion Trail, with spot-on period terminology and meticulous attention to detail. It pulled me back to that time when my fourth-great-grandfather converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and took that Zion trail, and beyond.” 
~Debra Erfert, author of Window of Time, Changes of the Heart, It Takes a Sleuth, and Relative Evil.

“Marsha Ward has long been one of my favorite Western authors. She is a masterful storyteller who paints a picture so vivid, I feel as though I'm peeking back in time and catching a glimpse of life a hundred years before I was born. I highly recommend The Zion Trail.”
~Amelia C. Adams, author of the Kansas Crossroads series.

“A wonderful book with heartwarming characters. I enjoyed every moment of it.”
~Rebecca Shelley, author of the Dragonbound series.

“From an unexpected beginning in Pennsylvania, Elijah Marshall travels through heartbreak to claim his purpose in life. While the story illustrates the early history of the LDS church, the message is one of personal triumph through perseverance, culminating in a most satisfying resolution you won’t want to end.”
~Carolyn Steele, author of Soda Springs and Willow Springs.

Purchase Links for ebooks:
Kindle | Nook | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords (all ebook formats)

Author Bio:
Amazon best-selling author Marsha Ward writes authentic historical fiction set in 19th Century America, and contemporary romance. She was born in the sleepy little town of Phoenix, Arizona, in a simpler time. With plenty of room to roam among the chickens and citrus trees, Marsha enjoyed playing with neighborhood chums, but always had her imaginary friend, cowboy Johnny Rigger Prescott, at her side. Now she makes her home in a forest in the mountains of Arizona. She loves to hear from her readers.

Find Marsha online:
marshaward.com
facebook.com/authormarshaward
marshaward.blogspot.com
twitter.com/MarshaWard
authormarshaward@gmail.com

Join Marsha's Readers Mailing List to be notified of new releases: Click here  

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail is launching next Friday!

Yes, my new novel, The Zion Trail, is "dropping" next Friday, February 19th. Want to make sure you receive it? It's ready to pre-order at these online vendors, so get your copy reserved now:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook) 
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) | Kobo

Here's an endorsement a fellow writer gave the book:

“In The Zion Trail, Marsha Ward weaves an intriguing tale of a young man’s journey in faith. From an unexpected beginning in Pennsylvania, Elijah Marshall travels through heartbreak to cross the American plains to claim his purpose in life. While the story illustrates the early history of the LDS church, the message is one of personal triumph through perseverance. The relationships kindled throughout the book lead through unimaginable trials, culminating in a most satisfying resolution that you won’t want to end.”
~Carolyn Steele, author of Soda Springs and Willow Springs

Today's brief tidbit shows one of the relationships Mrs. Steele talks about: that of Lije and his younger sister, Mary Eliza.
~~~

By the time Pa dismissed us to go about our assigned tasks, Mary Eliza had awakened and gotten herself to the table. She had a cold bowl of porridge before her, into which she had slopped a healthy portion of milk. Her hair hadn’t been combed and hung halfway into her face. I chuckled and patted her on the head as I proceeded on my way outside, and felt her squirm under my hand.

“Lije,” she protested. “Don’t mess my hair.”

I squatted to look into her face. “You look beautiful, Pumpkin,” I said. “Eat hearty. We’re going on an adventure.”

“A ‘venture, Lije?”

“You’ll see tomorrow,” I told her, and left her with those teasing words hanging in the air.
~~~
Remember to reserve your ebook copy of The Zion Trail at these online retailer's stores:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook) 
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) | Kobo

See you next week!