New Release -- Walk the Promise Road: A Novel of the Oregon Trail by Anne Schroeder

Mary Rodgers has lost everything—or so she believes. Her entire family has been struck down with influenza, leaving her alone in the world—except for her cousin Philip. But Philip is bound for Oregon to meet up with Laurel, his fiancée, who’s waiting for him. Though Mary begs him to take her with him on the Oregon Trail, he resists. What would people think?

Mary’s plan is simple. They already share a last name. They will pose as husband and wife. The wagonmaster is a firm man—and if he finds out the truth, he’ll force them to marry, dashing Philip’s dreams of a life with Laurel. But Mary promises it will be their secret, and Philip can’t leave her behind after all she’s lost. 

When Luke Sayer, their half-Indian trail scout, begins to spend evenings at their fireside, other travelers notice the obvious mutual attraction between him and Mary. Though Mary denies it, she struggles to keep her promise without bringing harm to either her dear cousin, Philip, who has risked everything for her—or to Luke, the love of her life.

Mary's grit and determination will see her through the hardships and sorrows she encounters, but Luke’s love will give her hope for the future as they WALK THE PROMISE ROAD…

“With exquisite details of wagon trains, women and the West, Anne Schroeder takes us on an authentic journey of love and hope giving us characters to cheer for and moments of meaning to cherish.”

 — Jane Kirkpatrick, Award-winning author of ALL SHE LEFT BEHIND.

"The most accurate novel I've ever read on the Trail." 

— Michael Smith, Oregon Trail Preservation Committee

EXCERPT

    MARY SAW A familiar dun horse approaching. The sight of the tall stallion seemed to quicken her blood, but she dis-missed the idea as merely anticipation of riding astride in-stead of the bone-jarring pace set by clumsy oxen that moved with the grace of pigs.

     “Morning, ma’am. Ready for that ride?”

Luke formed a slow smile that made Mary forget his question. His shirt was not the familiar red flannel of the other men, but a dusky cream doeskin, fringed at the arms and laced up the front with rawhide cords. He seemed dif-ferent today, rugged and dangerous in a way that she couldn’t define, but he looked as if he lived in the type of garb he was wearing; hadn’t chosen it to enhance his mascu-linity, but rather the other way around.

     “Ready and looking forward to it, Mr. Sayer.” She felt suddenly shy in his company and found herself studying his moccasins where they rested in his stirrups.

     Her formality brought a chuckle. “Better get used to call-ing me Luke. Everyone else will by the time the trip is through.”

     “I’m not sure I should do that, Mr. Sayer. My mother would heartily disapprove.” Her smile belied her words.