I'm thrilled to be featuring this author and her book. I was privileged to read the manuscript for endorsement. I know you'll love it as much as I did. Welcome, Susan. Why do you write the kind of books you do?
I write different kinds of books. Usually I pick a
topic/genre/story because that’s the story I want to tell at that time. This
one, Captive
Trail, developed as I read about children who had been captured and
torn away from their families. Their struggles resonated with me, and I knew
other readers would feel the same sadness and empathy I felt, and want the
children to be happy again.
Captive Trail is second in the Texas Trails series. Tell us
about that.
Moody Publishers is offering this six-book series about the
Morgan family, living in Texas Texas
How has being published changed your life?
Instead of working for someone else, I now work for myself.
I’ve had a lot of jobs over the years, most recently as a newspaper
correspondent, but I love this one the most.
What are you reading right now?
The View from the
Lighthouse, by Melody Carlson.
What is your current work in progress?
I’m writing another western, but this one’s much lighter in
tone. A Lady in the Making will be
the third in my new Prairie Dreams series. In it, a lady with a past has to
convince a gentleman that she really is
a lady now.
What would be your dream vacation?
Any place with lots of
history. I’d love to see Maachu Pichu, for instance. And I’d love to poke
around the British Isles .
How do you choose your settings for each book?
Lately a lot of my settings have been chosen for me—a
publisher wants a book with a particular setting. If I choose it myself I look
for the place that would best suit my story.
If you could spend an evening with one person who is
currently alive, who would it be and why?
My daughter
who lives in England
What are your hobbies, besides writing and reading?
Genealogy,
logic puzzles, and ciphers. In the past I did a lot of needlework, but I
haven’t had time for that lately. I also love animals.
What is your most difficult writing obstacle, and how do you
overcome it?
Lack of time for the
writing-related tasks such as reading galleys, critiquing for friends, filling
out art sheets, and promoting my books. I just do what I can and accept that
I’m not superhuman.
What advice would you give to a beginning author?
Read
a lot, in a wide variety of genres. Write something every day.
I don't think I mentioned how much I love your cover, Susan. Tell us about the featured book.
Taabe Waipu has run away from her Comanche village and is
fleeing south in Texas Fort
Chadbourne
On one of the first runs through Texas, Butterfield
Overland Mail Company driver Ned Bright carries two Ursuline nuns returning to
their mission station. They come across a woman who is nearly dead from
exposure and dehydration and take her to the mission.
With some detective work, Ned discovers Taabe Waipu’s
identity. He plans to unite her with her family, but the Comanche have other
ideas, and the two end up defending the mission station. Through Taabe and Ned
we learn the true meaning of healing and restoration amid seemingly powerless
situations.
Please give us the first page of the book.
Plains of North Central Texas , 1857
Faster. Taabe Waipu had to go
faster, or she would never get down from the high plains, down to the hill
country and beyond. South, ever south and east.
Clinging to the horse, she let him
run. The land looked flat all around, though it was riddled with ravines and
folds. She could no longer see any familiar landmarks. The moon and stars had
guided her for two nights, and now the rising sun told her which way to go on
her second day of flight. She’d snatched only brief periods of rest. At her
urging the horse galloped on, down and up the dips and hollows of the land.
Taabe didn’t know where the next
water supply lay. The only thing she knew was that she must outrun the Numinu—Comanche, their enemies called them. No
one traveled these plains without their permission. Those who tried didn’t make
it out again. She glanced over her shoulder in the gray dawn. As far as she
could see, no one followed, but she couldn’t stop. They were back there,
somewhere. She urged the horse on toward the southeast.
South to the rolling grasslands
where the white men had their ranches. Where Peca and the other men often went
to raid. Where Taabe was born.
The compact paint stallion ran
smoothly beneath her, but as the sun rose and cast her shadow long over the Llano Estacado , his breath became labored, his stride
shorter. Where her legs hugged his sleek sides, her leggings dampened with his
sweat. He was a good horse, this wiry paint that Peca had left outside her
sister’s tepee. Without him she wouldn’t have gotten this far. But no horse
could run forever.
Taabe slowed
him to a trot but didn’t dare rest. Not yet.
Another look
behind.
No one.
Would she recognize the house
she’d once lived in? She didn’t think so, but she imagined a big earthen lodge,
not a tepee. Or was it a cabin made of logs? That life was a shadow world in
her mind now. Fences. The warriors talked about the fences built by the white
men, around their gardens and their houses. She thought she recalled climbing a
fence made of long poles and sitting on the top. When she saw fences, she would
know she was close.
At last she came to a shallow
stream, sliding between rocks and fallen trees. It burbled languidly where it
split around a boulder. She let the horse wade in and bend down to drink.
Taabe stayed on his back while
he drank in long, eager gulps, keeping watch over the way they’d come. She
needed to find a sheltered place where the horse could graze and rest. Did she
dare stop for a while? She studied the trail behind her then took her
near-empty water skin from around her neck. Leaning over the paint’s side, she
dangled it by its thong in the water on the horse’s upstream side. She wouldn’t
dismount to fill it properly, but she could stay in the saddle and scoop up a
little. She straightened and checked the trail again. The horse took a step and
continued to drink.
She stroked his withers, warm
and smooth. With a wry smile, she remembered the bride price Peca had left. Six
horses staked out before the tepee. A stallion and five mares—pretty mares.
Healthy, strong mounts. But only six.
The stallion raised his head at
last and waded across the stream without her urging. They settled into a steady
trot. Tomorrow or the next day or the next, she would come to a land with many
trees and rivers. And many houses of the whites.
Would she have stayed if Peca
had left twenty horses? Fifty?
Not for a thousand horses would
she have stayed in the village and married Peca—or any other warrior. Staying
would make it impossible for her ever to go back to that other world—the world
to the south.
Eagerness filled her, squeezing
out her fear. She dug her heels into the stallion’s ribs. Whatever awaited her,
she rushed to meet it.
The paint lunged forward and down. His right front hoof
sank, and he didn’t stop falling. Taabe tried to brace herself, too late. The
horse’s body continued to fly up and around. She hurtled off to the side and
tucked her head.
This book is available in stores and online:
Christian Book Distributors: http://www.christianbook.com/captive-trail-susan-davis/9780802405845/pd/405845?item_code=WW&netp_id=892812&event=ESRCN&view=details
How can readers find you on the Internet?
Visit my website at: www.susanpagedavis.com
Thank you, Susan, for the fun interview. I'm really looking forward to the next books in the series.
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