Hello Lynda! Thank you so
much for visiting Written Butterfly with me today! It’s such a pleasure to chat with you. So tell me…
Q) How did you dream
up the dynamics of your characters?
West of Forgotten was written many, many
moons ago, but I was never ready to let them go into the world. It’s actually
the fourth book I’ve published. Harrison and Rachel played recurring roles in
the first three books I’ve published and from the small parts they had, it was
apparent that Rachel was the one Harrison deferred to most of the time. I knew
when I wrote their story, she had to be as strong as they came, and Harrison
had to be as strong in his ability to adjust to her. She’s been damaged and if
he wasn’t so adept in reading her, the dynamics would have been a lot
different. The dynamics were very different in the very first version of this
book.
Q) Is this book part
of a series? If so, can you tell us
about it?
Technically,
no, it’s not part of a series, though so far all of my books are set in the
same small town of Federal, Wyoming. Federal was an actual town at one time,
though now it’s barely a wide spot on a spur of the Burlington/Northern
Railroad Line.
Q) Can you give a
fun or interesting fact about your book?
I’ve never lived in Wyoming (at
least in this lifetime), but Rachel’s intense sense of homesickness when her
father sent her away to boarding and finishing schools came from my own sense
of being homesick for that place. Rachel always packed some sagebrush in her
trunks so she could smell the dried sage when she was banished back East. Every
year, when we are on vacation in Wyoming, I cut several sage bundles to take
back to Indiana for the same reason. Rachel always had a small piece of white
quartzite in her trunks as well. I have a small piece of that white quartzite
from the Medicine Bow Mountains on my desk, a piece on my night stand, a piece
on the dashboard of my vehicle, and a piece in my purse.
Q) What gave you the inspiration for
your book?
West
of Forgotten started with a dream I had. (No joke.) I couldn’t remember
much of it, except for one small scene that kept playing in my head. I saw this
young woman in an 1870s mourning dress, backed up to a piano and this man
standing in front of her. I started asking myself who she was, why she was
afraid and why he was trying so hard to allay her fears. It grew from that one scene.
Q) Do you plan all
your characters out before you start a story or do they develop as you write?
I’m a
pantster when I write—BUT, I have to know every minute detail about my characters
before I start writing. I use a character questionnaire for the main characters
and it’s fairly in depth: level of education, phobias, strengths, biggest
regret, siblings (if any), greatest ambitions—those sort of things, along with
physical characteristics.
Q) How much real life do you put into or
influences your books?
I write historical, so
I’m rather limited in tweaking historical facts. However, that real life also
influences what I write. And, sometimes, a real historical figure finds his or
her way into my books. Who knew U.S. Grant didn’t like to lose at poker?
West of Forgotten blurb:
Banished from civilization to the
Wyoming Territory, U.S. Marshal Harrison Taylor holds a deed to half the Lazy
L. He isn’t sure why his beautiful new partner, Rachel Leonard, doesn’t trust
him. He has to convince her he is nothing like the man who abused her and must
earn her trust before the escalating attacks at the Lazy L turn deadly.
For six years, Rachel has worked to
repair a shattered life. Caring for her son and invalid father leaves little
time to keep the Lazy L profitable. She doesn’t want a business partner simply
because her father gambled away half of her beloved ranch and most certainly
doesn’t desire a husband. Unfortunately, she’s stuck with the former and can’t
trust Harrison as the latter.
Unless she can learn to trust Harrison,
everything and everyone Rachel loves will be lost.
West of Forgotten excerpt:
A light breeze
rustled over the sage and the summer-yellowed grasses. The scent of rain
carried on the air. Somewhere in the darkness, in a high-pitched voice, a
distant coyote’s shrill yap and trill was joined with another voice. One of the
two horses snorted. From the far south-west came a muted, low, long growl of
rumbling thunder.
She looked to the
horizon. Towering thunderheads were illuminated from within in shades of white
and purple and blue as the lightning danced in their heights.
“Is it going to
rain again tonight?”
Rachel continued
to watch the play of light in the depths of the clouds. She tried to puzzle out
why Harrison was engaging in trivial small talk. Perhaps he was on the same
uncertain footing she was about their marriage, about Sam’s sudden death, even
what it was married couples talked about. “I don’t think so. I think that one
is going to miss us. We might get a few drops, but it will rain out before it
gets here.”
“Joshua asleep?”
She nodded. “I
suppose we should discuss sleeping arrangements.” Just saying those words
twisted her stomach with painful knots. “My father’s old room on the second
floor hasn’t been used since his accident.” She had to stop thinking of that
room as her father’s. It hadn’t been Sam’s room since the day she had found him
nearly crushed under the rubble of the mine collapse. There had been no manner
to navigate him up and down the stairs.
“We don’t have to
discuss anything permanent tonight.” The chair creaked with his shifting
weight. He rose from the chair and set his coffee cup on the porch railing,
then crossed the distance to her. Without a word, he took her hand and pulled
her closer to him. He looked down into her face. “I can continue to sleep on
the chesterfield for a few more nights. Not that it would be my first choice…”
His voice trailed off.
“I
will need to air the room out, change the bed linens, and dust in there, but it
would be senseless for you to continue to sleep in the parlor.” She freed her
hand and walked a few paces away. She was talking nonsense, hoping to quell her
unease. Even the most hastily arranged marriage had a wedding night. Yet he had
agreed that for now, they would have a marriage in name only.
Harrison’s
boot heels echoed on the porch floor. She startled when his hands came to rest
on her shoulders.
“You’re
terrified,” he said.
“What
makes you think that?” She couldn’t make herself look at him. The knots in her
stomach drew tighter, making breathing naturally more difficult, and forcing
her heart to race.
He
drew his hands down her arms and back to her shoulders. “Let’s start with how
stiff your spine is. Or that your voice is shaking. Every time I’ve touched
you, you’ve either frozen or you panic.” His breath whispered across the nape
of her neck and ruffled the tendrils escaping her severe chignon. He turned her
to him and caught her chin on the back of his hand, tilting her head up. “I
made a promise, Rachel, and I will not break my word. You have to change the terms of our marriage.”
She
forced herself to draw a deep breath when his arms wrapped around her waist and
he exerted gentle pressure to bring her against his chest. He enveloped her
within his embrace and this time there wasn’t panic or the desperate need to
break free hammering in her. Rachel allowed herself to relax.
His
cheek pressed into her crown. A self-depreciating laugh broke from him, and she
admitted she liked how that sound rumbled in the depths of his chest.
“I
really should have my head examined for agreeing to all of that.”
His
arms tightened around her. She forced herself to remain within the circle of
his arms, the side of her face against him. He must have sensed her sudden
unease as he loosened his hold.
“You
are an interesting woman. Beautiful, fascinating, and so full of
contradictions.” He levered back from her and lifted his hand to cradle the
side of her face, the pad of his thumb feathering along the slope of her cheek.
“A seemingly very strong woman and yet terrified of a kiss.”
Rachel’s
mouth was dry and she couldn’t pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Her
limbs trembled. Surely he had to hear how fiercely her heart was pounding, so
loudly she heard it echoing in her ears.
His
voice deepened, grew quieter until it was almost a whisper and she fought the
urge to close her eyes and let the warmth in his voice wash fully over her. “A
woman with a child but so frightened of intimacy.” He leaned even closer to
her, his mouth almost on hers, yet not touching her except where his warm palm
held her face.
In
the darkness, she could just make out his features. Her hands slid up his chest
and she didn’t know if it was to push him away or pull him closer. She was
aware her breathing was shallow and she held her breath when he brushed the pad
of his thumb against her lower lip.
“You
have a mouth made for kissing, my beautiful wife, but I’m not going to kiss
you. Not until you ask me. And, I promise, when that time comes, you’ll be
asking me to do a whole lot more than just kiss you.”
He
straightened and released her, moving away in the same fluid motion. His long
strides carried him to the house, up the steps, and then through the door.
Rachel sagged, pulling in a ragged, deep breath. A strange ache filled her lower
belly, not painful but entirely confusing for its origin. She ran her tongue
over her dry lips, staring into the night.
She
twisted her head to the house. Part of her wanted to know if this time would be
different. Fear of discovering that it wouldn’t be kept her feet frozen, unable
to move forward.
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