New Reading Order for Owen Family Saga?

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

July was such a stressful month. Some of the stress was bad and some was good. I'm just very happy to have survived it!

* I've been mulling over a re-vamp of the suggested order of reading the books of the Owen Family Saga. I'll let you know my thoughts on order below, then you can tell me YOUR thoughts.

* The first step of doing a re-order would be to go into the back end at Kindle and change the book number designations on the five books so they would show up on Amazon with a new order.

* The second thing to do (at my leisure, as I don't want to take away from writing time and effort) is remove all references to book number on the ebook covers, just in case I change my mind and want to change to some other order. Sheesh!

* That's simple enough to do for THE MAN FROM SHENANDOAH, RIDE TO RATON, and TRAIL OF STORMS. GONE FOR A SOLDIER already gives only the series title. I would have to contact the designer of the cover of SPINSTER'S FOLLY to take the book number off and send me revised covers.

* Some of the paperback covers never were numbered, fortunately. I can do new covers for a couple of them, but SPINSTER'S FOLLY, as I said above, requires contacting the designer.

Here's the reading order I've been thinking about:

1. Gone for a Soldier

2. The Man from Shenandoah

3. Spinster's Folly

4. Ride to Raton

5. Trail of Storms

If you've read them all, or even only a few of them, what do YOU think about changing to this new suggested reading order?

Sample Saturday - Book 3

Today's sample is from Book 3 of the Owen Family Saga, Trail of Storms. The Bingham family has fled their home in Mount Jackson, Virginia. Jessie Bingham has been persuaded to ride on a wagon seat with a long-time friend from the Shenandoah Valley, Ned Heizer.
~~~

“Hi! Get up there!” Ned called to the horses. Once they were on the road, he turned to Jessie. “Your ma’s walkin’ back there with Robert and Miz Hannah. You can call me Ned now.” He watched a pink glow light her cheeks.

“I haven’t seen you for so long,” Jessie said, ducking her head to one side.

“Yup.” Ned moved his foot onto the brake lever. “I’m sorry I let some years get between us.”

Jessie didn’t reply.

“Do you remember that time I brought you a peck of mulberries, and we climbed the tree behind Miller’s barn and ate the whole thing?”

Jessie smiled but said nothing.

“Our hands got all purple, and my belly ached something fierce, but the company was fine.”

Jessie laughed. “As I recall, you threw up all over my skirt, and I had to hide it from Ma and wash it myself.”

Ned grinned. “I don’t remember that.”

“It happened.”

“Nah, it couldn’t have. I was always a model citizen around you.”

“It did.”

“It didn’t!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

Jessie gave Ned’s arm a gentle shove as her laughter filled the road. “The purple stain never did come all the way out of my skirt. I had to cover it with an apron until I outgrew it.”

“It does my heart good to hear you laugh, Jessie. I don’t reckon you’ve had much to laugh about the last few years.”

She shook her head. “Ma always tells us life ain’t meant to be fair.”

“But a fine-lookin’ girl like you should have little things that give you pleasure, like fancy trinkets and good memories.” He looked over at Jessie. She was blushing again. “Memories are precious gifts. I have a store of them I could share.”

Jessie said nothing. After a while, Ned began to whistle a tune, and she turned to him, her face a picture of delight.

“That’s the firefly song. You made it up.”

“I made it up for you.” Ned avoided looking at Jessie. He hadn’t told her that, before now, and couldn’t predict how she would react.

“You did?” A low chuckle escaped Jessie’s throat. “I never knew.” She tried out the tune, then laid her hand on his arm. “You never told me. What other secrets are you keeping from me?”

“Oh, lots and lots.” Ned grinned, relieved. “Like the time I shut the Owen boys in the Bates’s cellar for teasing you. Remember, I took you and Ellen Bates and Marie Owen into town on the buckboard to get candy at the store? That’s so you wouldn’t hear them rascals fussin’ to be let out.”

Jessie snatched her hand from Ned’s arm. He looked at her. She had turned her face away again.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Nah, no,” she said, stumbling on the word.

“Are you in pain?” he asked. “This road ain’t too smooth.”

“Um, I’m a little tired,” she said.

“I don’t wonder,” he said. “That shotgun sent you flyin’. Fear is mighty fatiguin’, as well.”

Jessie said nothing in return, and Ned lapsed into silence.

* * *

Jessie hadn’t thought about James Owen for more than a week, but Ned’s remembrance of secrets he’d kept had reopened the wound that never quite seemed to heal. Precious mercy! Will I never stop thinking about him! A cold chill ran through her body, and she shivered, fighting tears that she wouldn’t be able to explain away.

Ned Heizer. Big-brother substitute Ned. Protector and friend while her own big brother, Max, played beau to the girls. Ned was acting like he wanted to court her.

That can’t be. Ned is my friend. How can he possibly want more than that?
~~~

Thanks for visiting. You can purchase Trail of Storms in your chosen version from the vendors below.

Trail of Storms: Book 3 - in print and ebook formats
Print: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | ebooks: Smashwords all formats | Kindle | nook | Kobo | iTunes Bookstore

You may purchase an autographed print copy at this site.

Sample Saturday - Dec 13, 2014

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This week's sample is from Trail of Storms, where Jessie Bingham accepts Ned's previously unwelcome proposal. (The print edition of this novel is on sale here for $10, personalized and autographed. Hurry. The offer is only good while supplies last!)
~~~

Jessie wiped her mouth on her apron. Getting rid of her supper had relieved the pain in her stomach, but the hurt in her heart remained. She was sobbing. Even though the news of James’s betrothal to Ellen Bates had cut into her soul like a hot knife, knowing that he was free and somewhere in this country had given her hope. Jessie shuddered. She couldn’t think of James anymore.

She wiped her eyes and looked around. She’d been lucky when she left the kitchen. No one had been around. Just then, two men came out of the stable, laughing and talking. George and . . . Ned.

Ned! Ned wants me. James doesn’t. Ned does. He’ll take care of me, and I’ll never have to think about James Owen again.

She ran toward Ned, forcing a smile. He’ll be happy. I’ve got to be happy. “Ned,” she called.

“Jessie?” He smiled at her, and left George, taking long strides to meet her. “What is it?”

Jessie halted and let Ned approach. He says he loves me. He’ll never leave me. She grabbed her upper arm with the other hand and waited. He’ll make me happy.

Ned smiled down at her, and she lifted her head. “I’ll marry you,” she said.

Ned’s smile widened to a grin. “You mean it?”

“Yes.” She waited, her fingers gripping her arm. She’d be safe with Ned.

Ned picked her up by the waist and swung her around. She clutched his shoulders to keep her balance.

“Jessie, I’m the happiest man in the world. We can get married at the next town.” He put her on her feet.

Married? So soon? She hadn’t thought beyond her acceptance of Ned’s offer. What if I get pregnant? She thought of Hannah, and the physical discomfort she was going through in carrying her child. “I think we should wait until we get to Albuquerque to wed. We have so far to go. I don’t want to be . . . like Hannah is.” She watched disappointment mask Ned’s eyes. Then he accepted her condition, though his shoulders sank a bit.

“I reckon you’re right, honeybunch. I wouldn’t want you to be burdened by—” He pressed his lips together, sighed, and nodded. “We’ll wait.”
~~~

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.

Author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.

Facebook | Twitter | marshaward.com

Sample Saturday - Dec 6, 2014

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This week's sample is from Trail of Storms, where Jessie Bingham gets an unwelcome proposal. (The print edition of this novel is on sale here for $10, personalized and autographed. Hurry. The offer is only good while supplies last!)
~~~

After a matter of weeks, the Bingham party made camp near a spot where the westward trails divided. The northern branch led to Utah and California and Oregon. The southern track was still renowned as the Santa Fe Trail, which connected to old Spanish trails that continued through New Mexico Territory all the way to California, following a wagon road pioneered by a party of Mormon volunteers during the War with Mexico in the ‘40s.

Jessie stood over an iron skillet, frying bacon. She looked up from her task when Ned stepped into the firelight.

“Good evening, Jessie,” he began.

“Hello, Ned.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Ma’s not nearby, so I can call you that.”

Ned smiled and nodded. “You look very nice tonight,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit a spell?”

Jessie rolled her eyes in mild annoyance and said, “Suit yourself.” She turned the bacon with a fork.

“Thanks.” He found a box and lowered himself onto it. “Lovely night. Stars out and a full moon.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, laying down the fork and lifting the lid on a pot of beans. It needed stirring, so she picked up a wooden spoon and thrust it into the savory mixture.

Ned shuffled his feet

At the sound, Jessie looked up to see him gazing at George and Heppie, who were teasing each other near their wagon.

Ned cleared his throat, then spoke. “Married life seems to suit my brother and your sister.”

“They do seem over the moon.”

“Have you thought about getting married?”

Jessie cast her eyes down to her work. She hadn’t given the topic much thought since … since she’d been left behind when James went west. She bit her lip. It didn’t help. Her heart still hurt more. Slowly she looked up. Ned was sitting there, waiting for her to answer. She shrugged her shoulders. “Not for a long time.”

Ned bent over and fiddled with the top of his boot. “Do you know what double cousins are?”

Jessie frowned. What a strange question! “No.”

“That’s when two brothers marry two sisters, or a brother and sister marry a sister and brother. Their youngsters are double cousins.”

Jessie stirred the beans so vigorously that they sloshed over the rim of the pot.

“Jessie.” Ned paused, fiddling with the lacing on his boot. “I, that is, you, I mean …” His voice trailed off. “Oh, confound it,” he said, rising to his feet. “Will you marry me? We’ll run into a town sooner or later, and we can scare up a preacher or a mayor or a judge to say the words over us—”

“Mr. Heizer,” Jessie interrupted.

“Please, Jessie, hear me out. We’re good friends, that’s a fact, but I’ve got strong feelings for you. I thought of you a good deal during the months that I was lyin’ there in the hospital up north. When I got back to Mount Jackson and found out you were gone, it tore me up inside. I want to be with you now.”

Jessie turned and faced him. “Mr. Heizer, Ned, I—”

“If you don’t want to answer yet, I’ll understand.” He got to his feet, stepped forward, and took her hand. “Take all the time you need.”

Jessie looked at Ned’s hand holding hers. She looked into his eyes. She looked away. “Ned, we’re only friends. I’ve never thought of marrying you.”

Ned dropped her hand and shuffled his feet. “I think friendship is a good start for marriage.”

Jessie stared at him. “But what about love?”

“I’ve never loved anyone but you, Jessie.”

Jessie smiled wryly. “That’s on your side of the matter, Ned. Don’t I need to love you too?” Her smile slipped away as Ned jerked upright, his throat working as he swallowed several times. “Being in love matters to a girl.”

She turned to the bacon and poured the grease into the bean pot. She whacked at the crisp bacon. It shattered into pieces that she scooped into the pot. She looked up. Ned was staring at her, his face somber.

After a moment, he spoke. “Don’t misunderstand me, Jessie. Naturally I want you to love me, but I’m sure that will come in time. For now, consider takin’ a good, hard look at your feelings for me. See if they ain’t sufficient for marriage.”

Jessie laid down her spoon and moved to face Ned. She put her hand on his arm. “I been in love before,” she whispered. “I don’t feel the same about you.”

Ned looked down at the ground, then up again. Finally he spoke, his voice dark. “James Owen?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is he anywhere around?”

“No.”

“Then marry me.”

“I don't love you like that. You’re my friend.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what kind of love you bear me now.” Ned took her hand from his arm and brought it to his chest. His heart beat strong, hard. “I hope that will change in time. I care for you enough for both of us.” He nodded sharply, only once, then added, “You think about what I’ve said.”

Jessie lowered her eyes. Her heart thumped in her throat, matching the rhythm of Ned’s. Maybe I do love him, she thought. Maybe I should think about marrying him. Slowly she nodded. “I’ll give thought to your suggestion.” She looked up. Ned was watching her face. “It may take me some time to …” She swallowed, took her hand from Ned’s chest, then said in a gush of air, “To think it through.”

Ned’s eyes looked like the depths of a deep pool. He gazed at her for a long time, not moving, frozen in place. Then he nodded, again only one time. “I’ll wait.”

He strode off, his long legs barely limping, and Jessie wondered how hard it was for him to damp down his pride and give her the time she needed.
~~~

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample. I appreciate your support of my work.

You may have noticed the new icon up at the left that I've added to this site. I'm now a member of the "Tip My Author" network. You can find out more information in the FAQs for Readers, or visit my profile here. I'm excited about the concept, which is designed to let you thank your favorite authors and show them your support. Learn more here.
~~~

Author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.

Facebook | Twitter | marshaward.com

Sample Saturday - Nov 29, 2014

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This week's sample is from Trail of Storms, a novel in which I'm sometimes accused of preaching. That wouldn't be so bad, except I'm vilified for preaching about Mormon teachings! I prefer to think I'm sharing a bit of light about a religion of which many people have little knowledge. Whichever way you lean, this scene contains good old Christian teachings of being grateful for blessings, no matter the circumstances. (Being Christians, Mormons believe the same teachings of Christ.)
~~~

A week later the Bingham party camped below the Wet Mountains. Crickets chirped in the distance. A soft breeze blew down the side of the hills, bringing with it a chilly touch of autumn.

Mrs. Bingham sat in the flickering light of the waning fire, forking up a last bite of beans. When she’d swallowed it, she put down her fork and looked to Hannah, who sat nearby. Her daughter played with her half-eaten food as though her thoughts were a million miles away.

Mrs. Bingham cleared her throat and asked, “Dearie, did you take enough to feed yourself right? That little babe needs good nourishment.”

Hannah stirred in her seat. “Ma, I don’t want to talk about this …” She paused. “This mound of flesh. I can’t stop it from supping at my vitals, but I don’t have to talk about it.”

“Daughter,” Mrs. Bingham remonstrated, getting to her feet and collecting plates and forks. “Don’t be unnatural. You must count your blessings.”

As others drifted off to do their chores, she carried the dinnerware to a dishpan near her wagon. She got boiling water from the fire, poured it over the dishes, and called out to Heppie, “It’s your turn to wash.”

“Yes, Ma.” Heppie came up and dipped her hand into the water, pulled it out, and shook it. She blew on her fingers. “This water is still too hot, Ma.”

Mrs. Bingham rounded the fire and sat beside Hannah. “It’ll cool down soon enough,” she called.

Hannah clutched her hands together, her head bent over the abandoned plate. Her body seemed to vibrate with tension.

Mrs. Bingham straightened her shoulders. “You have many blessings, Hannah. Chief among them, you didn’t die at that wicked man’s hand. Mr. Fletcher says you punished him gravely.”

Hannah interrupted. “I scratched his face and pulled his hair. That’s not so much.”

“Your husband told me a tale of great bravery on your part, dear. I got him to talk about it one night, and he wept as he told how you struggled.”

“Robert doesn’t weep.”

“Mr. Fletcher has very deep emotions about that day, Hannah. He grieves that you were hurt. He grieves that your heart is so hard toward your babe. He loves you. He swears he will love your child, no matter what.”

“How good he is,” Hannah said, scorn tingeing her words. “How noble. How fine.”

“Hannah! You must not talk that way about your husband. He deserves your respect.”

“He is not the one carrying this bastard child!” Hannah blurted out. “No one blames him. Everyone will praise him to the heavens for his forbearance toward me.”

“Hannah.” Mrs. Bingham’s voice rose firmly. “Robert Fletcher is one of the greatest blessings in your life. Once upon a time you knew that, and cherished his love. You returned it. It grew into a fine, shining thing. Don’t debase it because you had a misfortunate experience with a vile man.”

Hannah’s face went white. “I can’t forget that day.”

“You must try. You must turn your thoughts to your babe, to being a good mother and a good wife. Give thanks each day for your blessings and for your family.”

The anger in Hannah’s face crumbled away, and her hands flew up to hide her face. “Mama,” she said in a little-girl voice. “Don’t scold me so. I can’t bear for you to hate me. I hate myself enough for all the world.”

Mrs. Bingham got up and gathered her daughter into her arms. “There now, dearie,” she crooned, as Hannah cried deep gulping sobs. “Leave go of hate. Where there is life, there is hope. Your dear Robert knows that. He has been strong enough to carry you through this terrible time. Bear him a grateful heart for his fortitude. Don’t turn your back on that gift.”

Hannah turned her stricken face to look up at Mrs. Bingham. “Oh, Mama, I’ve been a dreadful wife.”

“Yes, you have.” Mrs. Bingham stroked Hannah’s back.

“How can I cure that?”

“If you open your heart, you will know what to do, and when the time is right, you will be knit together as one soul again.”

Hannah sniffled. “Can that happen, Mama?”

Mrs. Bingham stood still for a moment, looking at the moon as it rose over the meadow. She turned back to Hannah and hugged her tight. “Your Robert is fixing a snug bed under yonder stand of trees. I am confident he will receive you with all his heart.” She looked again at the moon. “There’s good luck in that light, daughter. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Hannah sat up and got free of her mother’s encircling arms. She took a deep breath and stood up. She seemed to stand taller. “Thank you, Mama. I won’t.”

Mrs. Bingham stepped back and made a shooing motion. “Go on with you,” she said. As Hannah walked away, she whispered, “Good night. May God be with you.”
~~~

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the sample.

WestWard Books is having a Year-End Sale on print copies of Trail of Storms, the third book in the Owen Family Saga. They are on sale for $10.00 per copy, with optional personalization and/or signature from me author. This sale is good as long as supplies last, or until December 31, 2014. All sales final. Click here to purchase. Thank you for your support of my books today, which is, of course, Small Business Saturday.
~~~

Bestselling author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the best-selling Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.

Facebook | Twitter | marshaward.com

YEAR-END SALE - Trail of Storms print edition

I'm passing along news from WestWard Books: 

YEAR-END SALE: print copies of Trail of Storms, the third book in the Owen Family Saga, are on sale for $10.00 per copy, with optional personalization and/or signature from the author, Marsha Ward. This sale is good as long as supplies last, or until December 31, 2014. All sales final. Click here to purchase.

And here's the book description and a couple of reviews:

Jessie Bingham put heartbreak away to tend to her sister's needs, but when she settled for second best in love, she didn't foresee that James Owen would come back into her life.

The aftermath of the Civil War creates cruel circumstances for the Bingham family. A brutal attack on Jessie's sister, Hannah Fletcher, drives the extended family to flee to the West. They are soon joined by Heppie Bingham's beau George and his brother, Ned, who bring news that the Binghams are being pursued by cronies of Hannah's attacker. Even after they fight off that onslaught, poverty, bad weather, and Hannah's frightful secret plague their journey. Nursing her battered heart when she hears James Owen took a wife, Jessie accepts Ned's offer of marriage. But a stop on the trail holds surprises that launch Jessie into a bewildering tangle of values, emotions, and high adventure.

Shirley Bahlmann, author of the "Odds" pioneer series, says: Marsha Ward has the uncanny ability to transport readers back in time. You feel the characters' sorrows, hate the villains, cheer the heroes, and sit on the edge of your seat as one adventure after another unfolds. What a satisfying story this is, with real, believable trials and heart-warming conclusions. I recommend it to everyone, from history buffs to adventure lovers to romance readers.

Review from Meridian Magazine: Trail of Storms is not a romance, but a nitty gritty Western. It is the historical details of Colorado and New Mexico and the writer's understanding of both the American and Hispanic cultures of this place and time period that are superbly done. The author portrays vividly the lingering hatred that existed between Confederates and Yankees for years following the war, the bigotry between races, and the minimal rights of women. Historical and Western fans of either gender will enjoy this series, from the compelling covers to the last word of this third volume. - Jennie Hansen

Click here to purchase Trail of Storms in print.

Sample Saturday - October 18, 2014

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This week's sample is a couple of pieces from a scene I cut from Trail of Storms. When members of the family are in grave danger from a Yankee patrol, Mrs. Bingham comes up with a plan. I changed several names and marital situations in the course of completing the novel. You'll note that Jessie hadn't yet told me by what name she was known.
~~~

“No one leaves this house tonight,” Mrs. Bingham said, her voice firm. We may need to vouch for each other.”

“What?” Jessica asked in a sharp tone.

“We don’t know what may happen, and we need to be here together,” her mother reiterated. “In fact, whose birthday may we celebrate tonight?”

“Mother!” Hepzibah said. “Whatever do you mean?”

Charity Bingham laid her crochet aside, got to her feet and went toward the kitchen. “We need a little wine, a cake, and the remnants of a feast.”

“I’ll eat the feast for you,” Luke said, hunger in his eyes.

“We all must eat,” his mother said, and left the room.

Jessica and Hepzibah looked at each other and at George. “Has grief tumbled her senses?” he asked.

“I can’t say,” Hepzibah said. “She’s never been like this before.”

“I reckon she has a plan,” Jessica said. “To what purpose, I don’t know, but she’s been thinking, I can tell it.”

By the time the clock struck eight, a solemn merrymaking had begun in the dining room, with the delayed meal eaten and wine and plum cake passed. Two empty wine bottles adorned the table. Two extra place settings sat on the table with food scraps upon the plates, the forks and knives in disarray.
~~~

At this point, missing members of the family show up, and further preparations for the "party" are made. Then, the family receives visitors.
~~~

Mrs. Bingham held a wine glass to Hannah’s lips. “Drink this,” she said, and the girl drank some before her mother deliberately spilled the rest down the front of her dress.

“Please drink some wine, Mr. Granville,” Mrs. Bingham insisted, and he did so, as George slid into his seat. “You two must not fight any more this evening. It is a festive occasion.”

The family sat at the table, picking at the plum cake on their dishes, waiting. The hush was so complete that they clearly heard the parlor clock ticking away the minutes.

Even though it was expected, the sharp knocking on the front door caused the women to jump. Mrs. Bingham picked up her wine glass as she arose, and went to the door, followed by Luke.

“Good evening, gentlemum,” she said when she had opened the door, her words slurred. “What can you do for me?”

A Yankee captain pushed his way past her, as she followed, protesting mildly.

“Granville!” the man said. “We’re here to arrest you for murder.”

“Whaddayou mean,” Charity asked. “It’s his birthday. We’ve been havin’ a little party.”

“Yesh,” Robert said, staggering to his feet. “Motha Bingham makes a fine plum cake. You wanna a piece?” He lifted the platter from the table, then stumbled and dropped it near the captain’s toes, and it shattered across the floor. “Oh! I’m sorry,” Robert groaned, and stooped over to retrieve the cake from the splintered china. “This piece don’t look too bad. Here,” he said holding it out to the officer, who stepped back.

“You’re drunk,” the man sputtered.

“Yesh,” Robert grinned. “It’s my birthday.”

“How’d you get that bruise?” asked the captain.

George stood up. “We had a li’l dishagreement. His wife got drunk and lost her meal, an’ I teased her. He dinent like that.” He grinned and sat back down, his legs seeming to give out on him.

Charity took the captain’s arm. “If you don’t mind,” she said, walking him toward the front hall, “we need to finish the party. It musht be seven o’clock already.”

“It’s past nine o’clock, madam,” he said, shaking off her arm. “Good night to you.”

When she had shut the door on the captain and his men, Charity Bingham put her back to it and slid to the floor. Her family, except for Hannah, gathered around her, and after a few moments, she raised her head and said, “We have to leave tonight.”
~~~ 

Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed my Blog Book Tour!

Click the "My Books" tab at the top of the page for more information about my books and short stories, including the newest story, Happy Halloween. Purchase links are included. The "Special Collections" tab includes information and links to my novella, Faith and the Foreman, and a short story in the Owenverse, Bloodied Leather, which gives a glimpse into the future of the Owen Family. Don't forget to come back next Saturday for another sample of my writing.

Bestselling author Marsha Ward wrote the novella, Faith and the Foreman, in the Timeless Romance Anthology Old West Collection. She is the author of an acclaimed novel series featuring the Owen family. Book 4, Spinster's Folly, won the 2013 USA Best Book Award for Western Fiction, and recently was named Finalist in Western Fiction in the 2014 International Book Awards. A former journalist, Ward has published over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. She is the founder of American Night Writers Association, a.k.a. ANWA.

Facebook | Twitter | marshaward.com

Holy Week (Semana Santa) Contest

In commemoration of the events that changed the world 2000-odd years ago, I'm holding a

HOLY WEEK CONTEST

which begins today (Palm Sunday) and ends at noon on Monday, April 21 (Easter Monday in Canada). The prize for the

HOLY WEEK CONTEST

is an autographed copy of one of my Owen Family Saga novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, or Spinster's Folly.

If the winner is not from the United States, I will email him or her instructions for downloading a free copy of the novel of their choice as an e-book. They then can go to Authorgraph.com and put in a request for a digital autograph (or they can do it from the gadget over in the left sidebar).

Each person who follows the rules below and comments on this post with the desired information will have his or her name placed in my ten-gallon contest-drawing hat. The winner's name will be drawn from the hat on Easter Monday, April 21, at 12:30 p.m. Mountain Standard Time (because, you know, I live in Arizona).

Here are the Rules: 

1. Think about the novels you have read from the Owen Family Saga. 
2. Determine which is your favorite character.
3. Figure out why they are your favorite character.
4. Comment on this post and tell me who that character is and why he or she is your favorite.
5. Tell which book you want autographed and sent to you if you win.
6. Include your email address for winner notification.
7. You may only enter the HOLY WEEK CONTEST one time (but see the Bonus Rules below).

Bonus Rules:

• If you also include in your comment which book made you like this character best, I will put your name into the hat a second time.
• If you include a favorite passage from one of the novels that is no longer than three paragraphs long and is pertinent to why you like your favorite character, I will put your name into the hat a third time.

Remember: This contest starts today and runs through Monday, April 21. Each commenter may enter only one time, as you know, favorite is favorite, after all... even if your opinion of your favorite character will change next time you re-read one of the Owen Family Saga novels... or read the next one, Gone for a Soldier, coming later this summer.

Good luck to all of you!