I have always loved to write. I have always loved words. From the earliest I can remember, I remember words - the sound of them, the feel of them, the way they could be played with and made into stories and rhymes. My mother tells me I basically taught myself to read, and to be honest, I really can't remember a time when I couldn't read! 

I have always loved history. From the time I could stagger along in my toddler shoes to my adulthood, I can remember the smell of woodsmoke, the feel of rough cabin walls, the sound of muzzleloading rifles, and the scrunch of hobnail shoes on stony walks. Dad and Mother always exposed us to true history, the kind that awoke all of our senses and made what other children thought of as dry history books to be records of fascinating facts about real people and happenings. We knew they were real; we'd seen them reenacted last week!

My greatest desire is to bring that reality to others; to make them smell the woodsmoke and hear the crunch of hobnails. And greater than all, to help others see more vividly than before the mighty sovereign hand of God, moving and directing in the affairs of men. Because, after all, history is merely the reality of the plan He made before the beginning of the world.

Some of my books are just that: history at its frank best. Others are fictional. But in both my goal is to be as historically accurate as possible, and to try to convey my own love and passion for the life and characters of long ago.

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