Publisher Description

Mistaken identity leads to romance, laughter, and second chances in this inspirational historical romance. The Kansas community of Fairland anticipates the arrival of their new minister. Over the past several months, late in 1882, postmistress Grace Cristler has communicated with Reverend Dille via letters, answering his questions about the little town and its members, and developing an affection for the man who pens thoughtful missives. Theophil Garrison grew up under the loving influence of his saintly grandmother, but when Theo's older cousins make plans to rob a train and involve him in the heist, he flees the scene. While the cousins are on the run and out to avenge Theo's duplicity, he comes across a fatally ill traveler--a minister. Seeing a way to evade his troubles, Theo trades identities with the man, dons his fine black suit, carries a Bible, and prays that he'll be accepted as Rufus Dille. In a short time "ministering" in Fairland, Theo finds himself falling for Grace, stumbling through sermons, but becoming enmeshed in the triumphs and trials of the people in the community.When Theo's true identity is uncovered, what will be left of the wonderful world he has built for himself, Grace, and those in the town who have come to love and accept him?

Author Biography

Bestselling, award-winning author Kim Vogel Sawyer wears many hats besides 'writer.' As a wife, mother, grandmother, and active participant in her church, her life is happily full. But Kim's passion lies in writing stories of hope that encourage her readers to place their lives in God's capable hands. An active speaking ministry assists her with her desire. Kim and her husband make their home on the beautiful plains of Kansas, the setting for many of Kim's novels.

Review

CBA bestseller

Praise for Kim Vogel Sawyer:

"Kim Vogel Sawyer paints characters with exquisite detail emotionally and physically, then sets them in a story that transports the reader into a world equally as appealing as the people who live there. A captivating read, leaving you wanting more."
—Lauraine Snelling, author of To Everything a Season, Wake the Dawn, and Heaven Sent Rain

"The Great Depression was an era that required much grit and a great will to survive. Kim Vogel Sawyer has captured that spirit with characters full of determination, rich in heart, and strong in a sense of compassion. Room for Hope is not merely a nice novel or a touching story. It is a story of our heritage, a story of what it takes to live a life of mercy and love for the least of these. It is a story of reliance on God during the darkest of days. It is a look into our past to see that, truly, we are not all that different from our grandparents. It is our story."
—Susie Finkbeiner, author of A Cup of Dust: A Novel of the Dust Bowl

"When Mercy Rains is a beautiful testimony to the power of forgiveness. With three generations of characters to fall in love with, Kim Vogel Sawyer's new novel kept me turning pages—and discovering surprises—to the very end. I especially enjoyed the Kansas setting and the restoration of a homestead that was a beautiful reflection of the restoration of hearts and minds."
—Deborah Raney, author of The Face of the Earth and the Chicory Inn Novels series

"A compelling cast of authentic characters, heart-wrenching mistakes and responses, and love, redemption, and restoration make When Mercy Rains by Kim Vogel Sawyer a must-read masterpiece."
—Mona Hodgson, author of The Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek series, The Quilted Heart omnibus, and Prairie Song

"Quite simply, I loved this story from page one until the end. Kim has created a story that lovingly depicts the people, land, and culture of Appalachia. Guide Me Home is a tale of love and hope and faith that will hold your heart long after you reach the end."
—Laurie Alice Eakes, author of The Mountain Midwife, 2016 Rita Finalist

"Kim Vogel Sawyer's historical novels always delve deep into the characters' hearts. Room for Hope is a beautiful story with an unusual twist. Yes, I cried… A definite page-turner, this story kept my attention to the very end."
—Susan Page Davis, author of Captive Trail and The Outlaw Takes a Bride

Review Quote

Praise for Kim Vogel Sawyer "Kim Vogel Sawyer paints characters with exquisite detail emotionally and physically, then sets them in a story that transports the reader into a world equally as appealing as the people who live there. A captivating read, leaving you wanting more." --Lauraine Snelling, author of To Everything a Season, Wake the Dawn, and Heaven Sent Rain "The Great Depression was an era that required much grit and a great will to survive. Kim Vogel Sawyer has captured that spirit with characters full of determination, rich in heart, and strong in a sense of compassion. Room for Hope is not merely a nice novel or a touching story. It is a story of our heritage, a story of what it takes to live a life of mercy and love for the least of these. It is a story of reliance on God during the darkest of days. It is a look into our past to see that, truly, we are not all that different from our grandparents. It is our story." --Susie Finkbeiner, author of A Cup of Dust: A Novel of the Dust Bowl "When Mercy Rains is a beautiful testimony to the power of forgiveness. With three generations of characters to fall in love with, Kim Vogel Sawyer's new novel kept me turning pages--and discovering surprises--to the very end. I especially enjoyed the Kansas setting and the restoration of a homestead that was a beautiful reflection of the restoration of hearts and minds." --Deborah Raney, author of The Face of the Earth and the Chicory Inn Novels series "A compelling cast of authentic characters, heart-wrenching mistakes and responses, and love, redemption, and restoration make When Mercy Rains by Kim Vogel Sawyer a must-read masterpiece." --Mona Hodgson, author of The Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek series, The Quilted Heart omnibus, and Prairie Song "Quite simply, I loved this story from page one until the end. Kim has created a story that lovingly depicts the people, land, and culture of Appalachia. Guide Me Home is a tale of love and hope and faith that will hold your heart long after you reach the end." --Laurie Alice Eakes, author of The Mountain Midwife, 2016 Rita Finalist "Kim Vogel Sawyer's historical novels always delve deep into the characters' hearts. Room for Hope is a beautiful story with an unusual twist. Yes, I cried... A definite page-turner, this story kept my attention to the very end." --Susan Page Davis, author of Captive Trail and The Outlaw Takes a Bride

Excerpt from Book

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. -- 2 Corinthians 5:17 One Cooperville, Missouri March 1882 Theophil Garrison Hey, Theo, didja hear the news?" Theophil Garrison paused with the pitchfork tines buried in the mound of hay and sent a sideways look at the barber''s son. The skinny youth nick-named Red nearly danced in place on the packed-dirt floor of the livery stable, and an eager grin split his pimply face. The news must be powerful exciting to get Red so wound up. Theo could use a little excitement. Angling himself to face the boy, he held the pitchfork handle like a walking stick. "Don''t reckon I did. What is it?" "They''re comin'' home." But not that much excitement. Chills attacked Theo from the inside out. Cotton filled his mouth. His muscles went quivery, and he lost his grip on the pitchfork. It fell against the stall wall, bounced, then slid onto the pile of straw. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and barked a nervous laugh. "You''re makin'' up stories. My cousins got a twelve-year sentence for that attempted robbery. They''ve only been gone ten." He knew, because he''d served the same number of years laboring as hard as four men to atone for robbing his aunt and uncle of their sons. "State shortened things up ''cause of their good behavior." The boy sniggered. "I guess it is kinda hard to believe." Knowing Claight, Earl, and Wilton the way he did, it was impossible to believe. "But it''s true. I swear it on my mama''s grave." Red''s mother wasn''t even dead. Theo scowled at the boy. "You''re foolin'' with me." "Am not! I was standin'' right next to my pa when Sappington came runnin'' across the street from the telegraph office an'' read the wire message to your uncle." "Mr. Sappington knows telegrams''re supposed to be private." Red shrugged. "He only read it ''cause your uncle told him to. You know ol'' man Boyd can''t read a word hisself." His neck felt stiff, his head heavy, but Theo managed a jerky nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." Nobody in Theo''s family could read except him. He wouldn''t be able to, either, if Granny Iva hadn''t sent him off to school when he was young. Uncle Smithers called Theo a sissy if he even cracked the cover of a book. Of course, Uncle Smithers called Theo a sissy--and worse--for other reasons, too. "So your uncle told Sappington to read the telegram out loud right there in the barber shop. Every fella in the place heard it." Which meant by evening every living soul in Cooperville would know that the Boyd brothers were on their way home from the state penitentiary. Theo gnawed his lip. Had the officials already let his cousins out? Jefferson City was a hundred miles away, but if the prison warden gave them train tickets to Springfield, they could cover that distance in half a day. Then an hour stage ride from Springfield, and-- "Think they''ve forgot how you let the law catch ''em, Theo?" The last thing Claight said before the deputies took him, Earl, and Wilton away roared through Theo''s memory. "Just wait ''til we get out, boy. You'' ll pay for this. You'' ll pay." They hadn''t forgotten. Theo snatched up the pitchfork and jammed it into the straw. "Thanks for tellin'' me about my cousins, but I got work to do, Red. You get on outta here now." The boy smirked. "You might wanna get outta here, too." Theo ignored the taunt and continued forking clean hay into the stall. When all the stalls were fresh and ready, he headed to the attached corral to collect the horses. As he grabbed the cheek strap for a tall, speckled gelding, another memory attacked. "You got the easy part, Theophil." Earl never shortened up Theo''s name, and he had a way of making Theophil sound like a curse word. "All you gotta do is sneak the horses from the livery an'' make sure they''re waitin'' under the trestle." Theo might''ve been only fifteen, but he understood that "sneak" really meant "steal," something Granny Iva had taught him was wrong. He said so, and Earl gave him a clop on the side of the head that made his ears ring. "We gotta have horses to make our getaway after robbin'' that train, so you just bring ''em, you hear me, Theophil?" Theo had heard, had even nodded in agreement, but he hadn''t done it. And his cousins paid for his deceit with ten years of their lives. He released the gelding into the first stall with a pat on its neck and hurried back to the corral for another horse. Red''s parting comment-- "You might wanna get outta here, too" --nipped in the back of Theo''s mind. Red was young, prone to talking without thinking, but this time his words had merit. When the stagecoach rolled into town and Claight, Earl, and Wilton set foot on Cooperville''s Main Street, Theo intended to be far, far away. - Fairland, Kansas Grace Cristler Even before the murky cloud stirred by the stagecoach''s wheels and horses'' hooves on the dirt road had begun to settle, Grace Cristler stepped from the little stone-block post office and onto the boardwalk. With a lace handker- chief pressed over her nose and mouth, she blinked rapidly and made her way through the billowing swirl of dust particles to the battered conveyance''s side. "Afternoon, Miss Cristler." The driver grinned down at her, his teeth a slash of yellowish-white against his overgrown beard and grime-smeared face. "Watchin'' for me, were ya?" She lowered the handkerchief. "Why, of course. Everyone in town anticipates your once-a-week delivery of the mail, Mr. Lunger." Every Friday at one o''clock, as dependable as Uncle Philemon''s key-wound mantel clock, the man pulled the stagecoach to a stop outside the post office. She often wondered how he managed to keep such a precise schedule given the poor road conditions and ever-changing Kansas weather. But not once during the three years she''d served as the town''s postmistress had he disappointed her with a late arrival. Lunger chuckled. He reached beneath the bench seat and pulled out a worn leather pouch stamped with the name Fairland, Kansas, USA. "I don''t reckon you come runnin'', though, ''cause you''re all excited about other folks'' mail." The man had the audacity to wink. "You''re hopin'' for another letter." Oh, such a brash thing to say! She frowned. "When''s your preacher due, Miss Cristler?" Her preacher? She pursed her lips tight and gave him her sternest look. He laughed. "Sometime next month, ain''t it?" Grace hoped the dust was still thick enough to hide the flush surely staining her face at the man''s impudent comments. She loved the close-knit community that had been her home since she was very young, but did everyone-- including the United States mail carrier! -- have to be privy to her personal affairs? " My uncle expects Reverend Dille by the end of April." She waved the handkerchief, pretending to swish dust but actually fanning her warm cheeks. "The entire congregation is very eager to make his acquaintance." Mr. Lunger laughed, his thick beard bobbing against his bandanna. He yanked off his shabby hat and used it to slap his thigh twice, raising another small cloud of dust. "All right, all right, I can take a hint. You ain''t already smitten with the new preacher." He settled the hat back in place and winked again. "Least not more''n anyone else in town is. That make you feel better?" "Let me empty this bag and replace the contents with our outgoing mail. Please wait." His laughter chased her back into the post office. Her fingers trembled as she made the transfer, and it took all of her self-control not to search through the stack of envelopes for one addressed to her from Reverend Rufus Dille of Bowling Green, Missouri. With the bag in hand, she hurried out to the stagecoach. "Here you are, Mr. Lunger. Drive safely now. I''ll see you next week." Humor still twinkled in his eyes, but he kept his smirking lips closed and gave her a nod in reply. He brought the reins down on the horses'' rumps, and the beasts strained forward. Grace hurried inside the building and snapped the door closed to avoid a second coating of dust for the day. She rounded the counter, her skirts swirling with her rapid strides, and reached for the pile of letters. Was there one from Reverend Dille? From . . . Rufus? Her heart pat-pattered just thinking of his given name. Of course there should be a letter. For the past twelve weeks, his missives had been as dependable as Mr. Lunger''s deliveries. She skimmed through the stack, seeking his bold, masculine script. Mr. Lunger''s taunt about her running to retrieve her own personal mail raised a wave of guilt. Wasn''t she the town''s postmistress, voted to the position by ballot? If she put her own wants above theirs, she would disappoint and betray the people who''d appointed her. By three o''clock folks would start arriving, asking her to check their boxes. She had a beholden duty to put their mail where it could be found. She stamped her foot against the floorboard. "I must do my job." She picked up the entire stack, balanced it against her rib cage, and

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