Help me welcome author Ellen Fannon as she shares about wrestling characters and story lines into shape, and read to find how you can enter a random drawing for a free ebook copy of Love in the Wind.

Writers often find themselves constructing scenes in their minds while doing other things. When I was working on my latest novel, Love in the Wind, I had time to kill while waiting for my son at yet another destination from which I had to pick him up. So, I used my time constructively by trying to come up with good names for horses. My male protagonist lives on a ranch and has horses. The horses need names.

I’m going to let readers in on a little secret about fiction writers. There are basically two types of fiction writers. Some outline everything and know exactly where the story is going before they sit down to write the first sentence. Then there are the others of us, called “Pantsers,” because we write “by the seat of our pants.” When I start to write fiction, I have a very loose (make that very, very loose) idea of where the story may go. In other words, I have an opening scene (or opening line) and maybe a vague idea for the end. What happens after my opening scene? I don’t have a clue, which is why my characters sometimes run amok and take me to places I hadn’t planned on going.

Take my horse names for example. I came up with a list off the top of my head and wrote them down on a scrap of paper I found in my purse. (Writers often write things down on scraps of paper that later make no sense when we try to figure out why we wrote them down.) Later that afternoon, when I sat down to write, I picked two names for the horses the male protagonist (MP) and female protagonist (FP) were going to ride that day. When the MP told the FP the horses’ names, she said, “I take it there is a story behind the names.” What? Why did she have to say that? I had no story behind the horses’ names other than I thought they sounded good.

Great. Now I had to figure out the story behind the horses’ names. Or tell the FP to shut up. But if she shuts up and there is no dialogue, the story won’t move forward and ever get to the end.

So, I had to stop and ponder whether I could make a backstory for the horses’ names or have to come up with other names that I could work into the story. More work for me because the FP shot off her mouth. Turns out, after Googling the first horse’s name, I could make the meaning of the name work with circumstances in the MP’s life history. Who knew when I picked that particular name just because it sounded good, that it might actually be useful for anything else? With the second name, I made up a different scenario without having to Google anything. Good, now the MP and FP could get on with their day, and I could get on to writing the story, provided they didn’t veer off into left field again.

Why do my characters keep doing this to me? If I were into the science fiction or horror genres, I could probably write some pretty creepy stories about my characters going rogue and taking over the book, leaving me in the dark. Surely, someone has already used this plot line. If not, feel free to borrow it, unless, of course, Twilight Zone steals it, in which case, I want full credit and royalties for the idea. But for right now, I’d just settle for my characters behaving themselves and not hanging me out to dry when all I want to do is finish my book.         

About Love in the Wind:

Wyoming rancher, Ben Parish, is struggling to keep his ranch afloat. Veterinarian, Darcy Fuller has moved to Wyoming to start a new life but is struggling to become established in a new area. Both have been badly burned by past relationships and are not looking to become involved in another. When their paths cross, Darcy has an idea to bring extra income to the ranch, as well as provide her with an outlet for her passion for working with horses. But can their growing attraction coexist with a business partnership? 

A Peek inside Love in the Wind:

CHAPTER ONE

Ben Parish cupped his hand over his brow to block out the blinding sunlight as he scanned the distant road for Doc Tippins’ familiar truck. His mare, Maggie, had been in labor for too long, and his anxiety rose steadily with each passing hour of no results. Whispering Winds Ranch had been struggling ever since his father’s death two years ago, and he couldn’t afford to lose this mare. Or the foal, either, for that matter.

A constricting band of worry squeezed his heart with the ever-present thought that he would fail and lose what his father and grandfather had worked so hard for. If only Dave had stuck around to help. But ranching had never been in his brother’s blood, and when Dad passed unexpectedly, Dave had taken his chance to move on to other endeavors. Ben didn’t begrudge his brother. He knew Dave had only stuck it out at the ranch as long as he did for their father’s sake. Still, Ben couldn’t help wishing he and Dave could have continued running the ranch together as a family.

A gust of nippy wind assaulted him, and he buttoned up his faded denim jacket with the holes in the sleeves over his old flannel shirt. The cold air stung his reddened cheeks and work-roughened hands, but he didn’t want to take the time to look for his gloves. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he paced the distance between the house and the detached garage several yards away, his scuffed boots wearing a deeper rut into the dried mud path.     

Ah! Finally. He released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as the sight of a pickup truck appeared on the isolated road running past the ranch. Doc Tippins would assess the situation with the unproductive birth and soon set everything right. The old veterinarian had been doctoring their animals since Ben was a boy, and the man exuded competence and confidence with his years of experience.

But as the vehicle drew nearer, Ben realized it wasn’t Doc Tippins’ old blue Ford. Did he get a new truck? The old one had to have a lot of miles on it from driving all over southern Wyoming. Well, good for Doc. He deserved something more modern than that old broken-down rust bucket he had driven for the past twenty years.

The truck turned in at the entrance to Whispering Winds Ranch, the gravel crunching under the tires, and kicking up dust in its wake. A smile of relief tugged at the corners of Ben's lips as he walked forward to meet the only man in three counties who could perform animal miracles. Just as quickly, the smile slipped from his face when he realized it wasn’t Doc Tippins at the wheel. Drat. Who was this stranger and what did they want?

A young woman in baggy brown coveralls hopped out of the truck, her chestnut-colored ponytail whipping in the breeze. Her smile seemed forced as she stepped forward, her hand extended.

“Good morning,” she greeted. “I’m Dr. Darcy Fuller. I understand you have a mare with dystocia.”

Ben’s brow now furrowed into a full-blown scowl. Ignoring her outstretched hand, he said, “Where’s Doc Tippins?”

The young woman’s smile disappeared as she dropped her hand to her side. “He’s doing an emergency surgery. I’m his new associate.”

Ben’s lips flattened as he appraised the girl. She looked like she was no more than eighteen, although if she was a veterinarian, she had to be older. Still, she couldn’t have much, if any, experience—probably a new graduate. What was Doc Tippins thinking sending this wet-behind-the-ears newbie to attend to a critical case like his? He tried to swallow his irritation but failed.

Scrubbing his hand over his forehead, where a throbbing headache had suddenly taken root, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out slowly through his pinched lips.

He opened his eyes and attempted to be pleasant. “Look. I’m sure you can do vaccines and worming and Coggins testing and the like. But for something serious like this, I need Doc Tippins. I’ve known him for over twenty years and I trust him.”

The woman seemed to deflate as she let out a defeated sigh. “I understand. I can try to call Dr. Tippins and see how much longer he will be.”

A prickle of compassion tugged at Ben’s conscience. This girl, whatever her name was—he had already forgotten it—was probably used to rejection, being the new associate when everyone wanted Doc Tippins. But still, he didn’t know anything about her qualifications, and Maggie’s desperate situation required someone with experience whom he could rely on.

"No offense,” he said, as she walked back to her truck, her head down and shoulders slumped. He watched as she held a cell phone to her ear, although he couldn’t quite make out what she said. Still, it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what the discussion entailed. The woman had probably had several similar conversations with her boss about clients preferring to see him rather than her. 

After a moment, she got out of the truck again, tucking the cell phone into her back pocket. “He says he should be able to get here within an hour. Would you like me to take a preliminary look at the mare, or do you want to wait for him?”

Ben hesitated. He didn’t like hurting her feelings, but what if she caused more trauma to an already precarious condition? No, it was better to wait for the doc. No need to put Maggie through more handling than necessary. He cleared his throat and his eyes fell just short of meeting hers. “Um, no, that’s okay. I think it would be better to wait. Again, no offense.”

She lowered her chin and nodded. “Okay then. If there’s nothing I can do for you, I’ll go on to some other calls.” This time, she held her head high as she returned to the truck and slid inside. Just before closing her door, she said, “Good luck. I hope your mare is okay.”

“Thanks.” Ben gave her a half-hearted smile and a wave. Mixed thoughts swirled through his mind as he watched her put the truck in reverse and turn around to head back down the long driveway. Should he have given her a chance? What if Doc Tippins was delayed even longer? Was he taking a risk by waiting? Well, here he was, back at square one. He turned to go check on Maggie.

***

Tears stung Darcy’s eyes as she headed back toward the road. Why was it when someone said, “no offense,” they were about to say something offensive? To a degree, she understood the reluctance of the clients to trust her ability when they were used to Dr. Tippins. But sooner or later, they would have to get used to someone else. Dr. Tippins was getting up in age and wouldn’t be practicing forever. Part of her reason for coming to the remote area of Baker, Wyoming, had been the incentive to one day take over his practice.

But how was that ever going to happen if no one allowed her to do her job? How was she supposed to prove herself if no one gave her a chance? So far, in the few weeks she’d been here, she’d been met with doubt, hesitation, and downright hostility. Only a handful of clients had been friendly and welcoming.

Why had she moved hundreds of miles away from home to make a fresh start? Maybe she had made a mistake. At the rate she was going, she wasn’t even earning her paycheck. Perhaps she should move back home. There, she had contacts. Veterinarians she had worked for in school and after she’d graduated would be happy to take her on as an associate, knowing she was a capable, hard worker.

But if she went back home, she’d have the constant reminder of Josh. She didn’t think she could bear that. Coming to Wyoming had seemed such an adventure, a whole new world where no one knew her and her history. That decision had proved to be a double-edged sword. While having no history had its advantages, it also had its drawbacks when getting to know people, let alone trying to establish herself in a demanding career where trust meant everything.

She’d tried to give the decision to God. She’d prayed repeatedly about the move, and although God hadn’t exactly sent a burning bush, she had peace about her decision. But since being in Baker, she wondered if that peace had been a product of her own wishful thinking to escape the small-town wagging tongues back home.

Swiping a finger under her lower lids, she said, “Darcy, you will not cry.” After all, it took time to get established in a new area. Even Dr. Tippins had to start somewhere. She took a faltering breath and, putting the arrogant cowboy out of her mind, drove to her next appointment to pull blood for Coggins testing. 

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About the Author:

Award-winning author, Ellen Fannon, is a retired veterinarian, former missionary, and church pianist/organist. She and her retired Air Force pilot-turned-pastor husband have fostered more than forty children, and have two adopted sons. She has published six novels, and her stories have appeared in One Christian Voice, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Divine Moments, and Guideposts; and her devotions have appeared in Open Windows, Guideposts All God’s Creatures, and The Secret Place.  

Please visit Ellen’s website, Good For a Laugh, and sign up to follow her weekly blog at: https://ellenfannonauthor.com/