Part of Series
. Her reputation precedes her, whether the bad guys realize it or not. Nancy Harrison has finally stepped out of her prissy box and tried to do something helpful—but did she go overboard in her first self-less act? She can’t ride, she hates horses, and she’s terrified of being alone. What’s a girl to do? Join the Pony Express, of course. When Nancy Harrison’s family receives a tax bill they can’t pay, there’s only one option open to them. Her brother, Lewis, will have to join the Pony Express and earn the money that way. It would have worked, too, if ruffians hadn’t attacked him and broken his leg. She doesn’t want to do it, of course, but what choice is there? Lose everything or ride a stupid, smelly horse for a few weeks? Nancy decides that she’ll chop off her hair, take to the dusty overland trail, and prove that she isn’t a “flighty little thing.” But things go from bad to worse as she discovers that riding astride is worse than sidesaddle—especially when you’re not used to it. Can’t she just go back home to balls, teas, and the hope of a suitor before her twentieth birthday? Sans her hair, of course, because that’ll entice the fellows. Sigh.
Author
**fingers skittle across the keyboard. Stop. Eyelids blink over the top** Oh, was this bio day? Oops! I forgot. I was lost in my latest manuscript. Umm... bio. Yeah. Hi! I’m Chautona Havig. (for those who care, that’s Shuh-TONE-uh HAVE-ig). Yeah. Just work with me here. I should have used a pseudonym, but when you grow up with a name like Chautona, it kind of sticks. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near. ~ Hebrews 10: 23–25 Those aren’t just words on a page for me–they’re why I write. I write to encourage my brothers and sisters in Christ. The stories I create are to make people laugh, cry, question, consider. They’re for you. When the world screams for hope, I try to point you to the true Source of hope–Jesus. Sometimes life in the church no longer seems a refuge from the pain of a self-serving world around us, but through my stories, I try to point you to the only Refuge that can truly help–the Father’s Everlasting Arms. And sometimes we just need an escape from the monotony, the emptiness we see around us. We need joy, laughter–what I like to call “just the write escape.” Christian fiction without apology or pretense–lived, not preached. What does that even mean? It means I care–about you. About your walk with Jesus. I care about the words you put before your eyes, the mental pictures those words conjure. It’s difficult to express just how much I love my brothers and sisters in Christ. It’s difficult to share just how much I love you. But I do. And I write for you. I sit in my little house in California’s Mojave Desert and I write to show you why one sister believes one thing, why a brother believes another. I write to show you how some Christians handle trials or triumphs–for you. So when you’re faced with something–good or bad, it doesn’t matter–maybe it’ll spark a memory. Maybe that memory will smolder until you pull out your Bible and see what the Lord said about it–about His great love for you. For YOU! And maybe, just maybe, you’ll share that love with another hurting, confused, or blessed-with-more-than-she-knows-what-to-do-with soul. I just happen to think that’s the most blessed giving anyone could hope to receive.
