If you've found your way here, welcome.
Before we talk about books, I should probably tell you a little about the person writing them.
People often assume I grew up in the western world.
I didn't.
I grew up country.
Not western.
There's a difference.
I grew up in East Texas, running nearly wild through the San Jacinto River bottoms, hunting, fishing, and spending more time outside than inside. We didn't have much money, although I didn't really understand that until I was grown.
One night after we were married, I made spaghetti exactly the way my mother always had. I opened a jar of pasta sauce, poured in another can of tomato sauce, and stirred it together.
He watched me for a minute.
"What are you doing?"
"That's how my mom always made it."
He smiled.
"No," he said. "She was stretching it."
I'd never realized.
One ordinary dinner suddenly became a story about love.
Not because anyone explained it.
Because one small detail carried the whole history.
I think that's why I write the way I do.
I don't believe stories live in grand speeches.
I think they live in gates that need fixing.
A horse standing just a little differently than yesterday.
The way someone says the word water.
The smell of East Texas after rain.
The extra tomato sauce in spaghetti.
Those details matter because people really live these lives.
When I married into the western world, I thought I was just marrying a cowboy. I didn't fully appreciate all that meant.
Horses.
Farriers.
Rodeos.
Working ranches.
Long days.
Quiet people who often say more through what they do than what they say.
That world became home too.
Somewhere between those two lives, I started writing the stories I wanted to read.
Stories about capable women.
Complicated men.
Families carrying more than they should.
Good horses.
Hard work.
Second chances.
Humor that shows up in the middle of grief because that's where it belongs.
If you've found your way here, I'm glad you did.
I hope these stories remind you of someone you love.
Maybe even yourself.
See you at West River,
Annette Garvey
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