Shannon here: Donna Schlachter interviews the hero from her latest Historical Romance, The Road to Freedom. Comment or answer the question in any post, dated Dec 30th – Jan 3rd to enter the drawing for an e-copy. Deadline: Jan 14th, 11:59 pm central time. Here’s Donna:
Interview of David Brentwood from The Road to Freedom by Donna Schlachter:
Following up on the recent interview between the author and Grace Grimaldi, Donna will now put the male lead character, David Brentwood, in the hot seat and ask some tough questions.
Donna Schlachter: Thank you for coming today. I know you’re busy.
David Brentwood: Always. A ranch is like a—well, like a ranch. Always something to do.
DS: So tell me a little about yourself.
DB: Sure. I was born in Freedom, Colorado. I’m about (coughs) years old.
DS: Sorry, I didn’t quite hear that?
DB: Right. I’m—well, I’m forty. A little long in the tooth, some might say. Never married.
DS: Why is that?
DB: My father believed—and my brother Abbott still does—that I work too much. Didn’t make time to look for a wife.
DS: Are they correct?
DB: Maybe. Maybe not. (leans forward) Thing is, I never met a woman I wanted to spend that much time with.
DS: Until now?
DB: Until now.
DS: What’s your favorite part about living on one of the largest ranches in Colorado?
DB: Nobody for miles around. Yet town is a short ride if you need supplies, a farrier, or a doctor.
DS: Are you pretty self-sufficient?
DB: Got to be, don’t you?
DS: Tell me about your family.
DB: Me and my brother, as I said. Abbott. He married just a few months ago. Father just died. Mother passed about five years ago.
DS: Sounds like your father pulled a quick one on you.
DB: Well, he tried. Put this thing in his will that sounds like a fish. Fishy it was, too.
DS: A Codicil?
DB: Right. Said if I didn’t marry within a month, I wouldn’t inherit the ranch.
DS: How did that make you feel?
DB: Couldn’t figure out how being married made me a better rancher. He hadn’t had any complaints up until then. But I didn’t worry. Figured me and Abbott could run it together if he inherited.
DS: But Abbott pulled a fast one, too.
DB: (frowns) That he did. Went to the lawyer and got his name taken out of the will.
DS: So who was next in line?
DB: A dirty, rotten scoundrel on our mother’s side named Oswald.
DS: And is he a rancher?
DB: No. He drinks like a fish. Pa knew he’d sell the ranch on and kill himself with liquor. Not to mention sending Pa spinning in his grave.
DS: Tell us about the advertisement for the mail-order bride.
DB: Seemed like the answer to my problem.
DS: Were you willing to marry a woman you didn’t know or love?
DB: Never really thought any woman in her right mind would agree to marry me. Didn’t think past that I needed a wife.
DS: Then you got the telegram, saying one had been chosen for you. A widow. What did you think of that?
DB: If I was going to marry a woman where love wasn’t involved, I think I hoped she’d had a good first marriage. I lived a lot of years without a wife. Figured I wouldn’t miss what I didn’t have.
DS: After a couple of false starts, you met Grace.
DB: Right. Except I thought she was GiGi. She said she was.
DS: Yes. We learned about that confusion during her interview. What did you think about her?”
DB: Not what I expected, that’s for sure.
DS: Which was?
DB: Oh, I don’t know. A quiet, modest woman around my own age with household experience. Could cook a good meal.
DS: Not what you got in Grace, right?
DB: Ain’t that the truth. She couldn’t cook a lick. Knew how to manage a house, but not how to clean or store up preserves or none of the really important stuff. At least, that’s what I thought at the time.
DS: You’ve changed your mind?
DB: I did. Loving God is a lot more important than what we do.
DS: Did anything else change?
DB: Sure did. She was in danger, and I fell in love with her while trying to save her life.
DS: That’s a huge turnabout.
DB: Sure is. God is so good.
DS: Thank you, David, for visiting with us today.
DB: My pleasure. Gotta go. Grace is waiting at the café for me.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Saturday October 5th, 1895
Freedom, Colorado
Freedom, Colorado
David Brentwood knelt beside his father’s bed and gripped the bony hand that once whupped his butt, lassoed and hog-tied a steer, and applied balm to a barbed-wire injured quarter horse. Hard to imagine how frail the old man had gotten, particularly in recent years. Still, he’d lived a good life. At past eighty, he owned the largest ranch in the area. At more than a quarter million acres, the Rocking B ran twenty-five thousand head of cattle, owned over two hundred horses, and employed a hundred men or so. The property was like a small town all on its own.
His father moaned, his legs shifting beneath the quilt. A fancy covering, made by his mother years ago. Little blocks sewn into triangles that resembled Christmas trees.
David patted the back of the old man’s hand, the skin translucent, veins like dark rivers carrying his lifeblood sluggishly around his body. “I’m here, Dad.”
“Know you are, son. Know you are. Like a faithful old dog, you are.” Jeb Brentwood opened his eyes. “You don’t need to hover. Not planning on kicking the bucket just yet.”
Abbott, David’s younger brother, pushed away from the wall where he’d stood for the past hour, and stepped out of the shadows. “I’m here, too, Pop. And Emma’s in the kitchen making coffee.”
The old man licked his dry lips. “Coffee sounds mighty good. And she makes a right fine cup. Go check on it, will you, son?”
Abbott’s gaze flicked from David to their father, then he nodded. “Sure, Pop. Back in a flash.”
“No need to hurry. Take your time.” When David’s brother left the room, his father forced a weak smile. “Those two need time to themselves. Not here looking after me.”
“They want to be here, Pop.”
“I know.” His father clutched at the pillow. “Here, help me sit up. I need to talk to you.”
David suppressed a groan. Any time his father said he wanted to talk meant a lecture or a tongue-thrashing. Neither of which he particularly wanted right now. The doctor said his father had probably less than a week on this earth before heading off to join Mom. Wherever that was. For his mother’s sake, he hoped heaven. But he wasn’t so sure about the old man. Maybe that’s why he seemed so reluctant to take his leave.
He adjusted the pillow, then lifted the man up so he rested against the headboard. Seemed the old coot had lost more weight in recent days. Made sense, since Emma said he didn’t eat enough to keep a robin alive, let alone a grown man. All part of that leave-taking, he supposed. Melting away like a snowman in July.
David resumed his seat and waited. If he knew one thing about his father, it was that he’d speak when he was ready, and not a moment sooner. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked off the seconds, then the minutes. At a quarter past, a single chime filled the room, bouncing off the walls, the floor, the ceiling, before settling into his bones.
Finally, his father reached for him, clutching at his fingers like straws. “I need an heir to continue our family legacy. Do you understand?”
David sighed. This, again. How many times had his father reminded him of his failure, as first-born, to marry and produce grandchildren? And each time, he’d gently replied that he was too busy to look for a wife. He trusted God would bring him one, like He’d brought Rebeccah to Isaac. In the past, reliance on the Almighty satisfied the old man. Not now, it seemed.
“Yes, Pop, I understand. In God’s timing.”
“No. You’ve missed it, son. Either you marry within thirty days, or your brother inherits everything. He has a wife. He’s bound to have children.”
David’s mouth went dry, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had to give it to the old man—he hadn’t seen that coming.
His father squeezed his hand again. “Do you understand? Whether I’m here to see it or not, you marry within thirty days, or Abbott gets it all. I’ve added a thing to my will. A cod—coda—codicil.”
“Got it, Pop.”
The door eased open, and Abbott stepped in. “Ready for coffee, Pop?”
“As I’ll ever be. What took you so long, son? I don’t have all the time in the world.” A rumble rolled up from his father’s chest. Sounded like a wagon rolling over a bridge. “Sit here with me. And where’s your lovely wife?”
David’s head snapped up. Was it his imagination, or had the old man stressed that last word? Well, the laugh would be on him. No way he could find a wife and get married in a month. What kind of fool would embark on such a task?
Nope. Seemed Abbott was about to find himself the owner of the largest spread in the state. Fine. If there wasn’t room for both on this land, he’d move on. He could make his own way.
Jumpin’ cornbread! What was the old man thinking?
Question for Readers: Would you classify a man who seeks a mail-order bride as brave or cowardly? And why?
About Donna: A hybrid author, Donna writes squeaky clean historical and contemporary suspense.
She has been published more than 60 times in books; is a member of several writers groups; facilitates a critique group; teaches writing classes; ghostwrites; edits; and judges in writing contests. She loves history and research, traveling extensively for both, and is an avid oil painter. Stay connected so you learn about new releases, preorders, and presales, as well as check out featured authors, book reviews, and a little corner of peace. Plus: Receive 2 free ebooks simply by going to her website and signing up for our free newsletter!
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About the book – The Road to Freedom:
A young woman runs from her past, straight into the arms of a stranger. Was she going from bad to worse? Or did God hold her in His hands?
A death-bed promise, a family legacy, an unexpected wife–how can he turn his back on them to fulfill a vow?
Available for preorder. Releases in print on December 31st
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The Road to Freedom Donna’s books
Come back Jan 6th for Patty Smith Hall!
Would love my name be put in pot for newbook
This draws me in. Caring for an elderly parent who used to be so mobile, alert, and energetic is relatable to many readers. I’m curious about the rest of the story.
I have a winner! Debbie McCauley won the drawing. I appreciate Donna for being my guest and everyone else for stopping by.