Author: Jacquie Rogers

My parents were poor but honest sharecroppers …

Okay, perhaps that's stretching the truth a little, but I come from a long line of no-holds-barred storytellers, so I like to exaggerate. Worse yet, I'm a writer, and writers do tend to get carried away. My parents actually owned a dairy farm in Owyhee County, Idaho, near Homedale and I grew up milking cows, breaking ice on the calves' water troughs and checking the bottoms of my shoes before entering the house. While I don't miss the frigid Idaho winters, I do recall those soulful calf eyes with fondness. Nowadays, the only soulful eyes I see are those of my husband when he pokes his head in my office for the tenth time and asks me when I'm going to fix dinner.

Still, those early farm days gave me a solid grounding in Real Life and provided me with endless fodder for my stories. Those days seem so bucolic now. Back then, I was a member of the Homedale Rod & Gun Club, Stateline Grange, and Sage Creek 4-H. I showed livestock, was the county fair queen, and garnered the title of girl's champion in the small bore rifle competition. (Now there's a scary combination!) I rode my horses to hell and back, with special emphasis on riding into the sunset while harmonica music played in the background. 

Review Archive