Sweethearts Of The West

Woman Who Pulls Teeth--Dr. Lucy Hobbs Taylor, by Tanya Hanson

2012-03-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

We all know everybody’s favorite huckleberry Doc Hollidaywas a dentist, but it was a baby girl, born Lucy Beaman Hobbs on March 14,1833, in Constable, New York, who changed dental history.

At a time when a woman’s chief role was that ofwife/mother/homemaker, Lucy’s only other choices were schoolmarm or nurse,proper but “spinsterish” occupations. But even as a little girl, Lucy BeamanHobbs longed for the unexpected.

However, she caved a little bit, spending ten years in a Michigan classroom. Butshe always held tight to her dream of pursuing medical science.

Solely on the basis of her gender, the Eclectic College ofMedicine in Cincinnati, Ohio rejected her in 1859. Nevertheless, oneof the school’s professors gave her private lessons, and at his suggestion, sheturned her interest to dentistry.

Again due to her gender, she could only pursue her dentalstudies as a private pupil. Fortunately, the dean of the Ohio College of DentalSurgery also took her under his wing. Later, she apprenticed herself to agraduate of the school. Again denied admission to the dental college --becauseof her gender -- she started her own practice in Cincinnati in the spring of 1861 when she was28.

She later moved her practice to Bellevue, Iowa(1862) and thence to McGregor, Iowa (1862-1865). In time, shecame to be known by what sounds a bit like a Native American soubriquet:"the woman who pulls teeth."

Interestingly, the Iowa State Dental Society accepted Lucyas a member in July 1865. Affirming that she had proven herself a worthy equalto male colleagues, the Society sent her as a delegate to the American DentalAssociation convention in Chicagothat year. In November 1865, four years into her own dental practice, she was atlast admitted to the senior class of the Ohio College of Dental Surgery.

Due to her expertise as well as support from a small but devotedgroup of admirers, she earned her degree only a few months later, on February 21, 1866. Thus LucyHobbs became the first woman in the U.S. –and likely the world-- toearn a doctorate in dentistry.

While practicingin Chicago, shemet Civil War veteran James M. Taylor, and married the railway maintenanceworker in April 1867. Under his wife's guidance, James too became a dentist.

Late in 1867, the Doctors Taylor moved to the western townof Lawrence, Kansas, where they soon builta successful practice, focusing on women and children. Most patients referredto the highly-regarded dentist as “Dr Lucy.” After James’ death in 1886, sheretired from most of her professional duties. However, she remained active incivic and political causes, most importantly the woman's suffrage movement.

Peers and citizens alike hailed her as a pioneer in openingthe doors for more women in dentistry. By 1900, almost one thousand women weretaking part in the profession.

During her career in Kansas,Dr. Taylor wrote, "I am a New Yorker by birth, but I love my adoptedcountry -- the West. To it belongs the credit of making it possible for womento be recognized in the dental profession on equal terms with men."

This courageous, determined woman died in Lawrence on October 3, 1910 at the age of 77. In herobituary, she was recognized as "one of the most striking figures ofLawrence [who] occupied a position of honor and ability, and for years sheoccupied a place high in the ranks of her profession."

www.tanyahanson.com

Coming soon: Book Five, Hearts Crossing Ranch series~Soul Food

Avis and Effie Hotchkiss: Motorcycle Mama

2012-03-14T00:04:00.003-05:00

By Anna Kathryn Lanier

Effie Hotchkiss was not your average Victorian era girl—she had dreams, big dreams and though she didn’t intend it, her dreams landed her on the front page of newspapers across America and her name was etched into history books. The year was 1915 and Effie was already bored with her bank clerking job on Wall Street in New York City. She wanted to do something exciting and adventurous. She wanted to see America. And she wanted to do them both at the same time.

Although the one millionth Ford Model T had just rolled off the assembly line, or perhaps in spite of it, Effie didn’t want to see the USA in a Chev….er, Ford. She wanted to cross the country, from sea to shining sea, on a motorcycle.

In the early part of the 20^th century, much of the U.S. especially in the West, was still wild frontier, full of bandits and Indians, not to mention wildlife. In addition, what roads existed were narrow, potholed, and mostly dirt. These hazards did not deter Effie. Using a small inheritance, she purchased a V-Twin Harley-Davidson and planned out her trip. Her mother, Avis, however was not as enthused as Effie about a woman taking such a trip alone. Instead of preventing her daughter from going, Avis insisted on tagging along.

A sidecar was rigged to the bike and the mother-daughter duo left Brooklyn, NY on May 2, 1915 to attend the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco. They spent the next two months traveling 5,000 miles through every type of terrain and weather imaginable. At one time, the temperature ranged from freezing to over 120° in a matter of days.

Effie not only did the driving, she was the mechanic, too, since she had to repair the cycle in remote places. When the duo ran out of inner tubes for the tires, they improvised by taking a blanket, cutting it up, tightly rolling it and stuffing it into the tire. It got them to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they were able to purchase new tubes.

The September 1915 issue of Harley-Davidson Dealer’s Magazine wrote that the women faced “bad roads, heat, cold, rain, floods and other such things with a shrug of their shoulders.”

Once on the west coast Effie dipped her toes and tires in the Pacific Ocean. She also ran down her future husband on a San Francisco street when he stepped out in front of her moving motorcycle.

Barely taking time to catch their breaths, Effie and Avis headed back to Brooklyn, arriving in October 1915. They’d racked up 9,000 miles round trip and cruised through Reno, Salt Lake City, Omaha, Chicago, Milwaukee and dozens of other cities.

Whether intended or not, Effie and Avis did make the news and were celebrities by the time they returned home. They were also the first women to not only make a cross-country trip on a motorcycle, but the first to make it round trip. Effie remarked, “I just wanted to see America and considered that the three-speed Harley-Davidson for myself and sidecar for mother and luggage was the best suited for the job.”

References:

LADIES FIRST: History’s Greatest Female Trailblazers, Winners and Mavericks by Lynn Santa Lucia

http://www.harley-davidson.com/en_US/Content/Pages/women-riders/female-trailblazers.html 3/4/12

www.cycleconnection.com 2/27/12

Anna Kathryn Lanier
www.aklanier.com http://annakathrynlanier.blogspot.com/

Never let your memories be greater than your dreams. ~Doug Ivester

Dr. Bethenia Owens-Adair.

2012-03-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

By Paty Jager

I came across Bethenia Owens-Adair when I was researchingfemale doctors for my book Doctor inPetticoats. I needed accounts of female doctors in the 1800’s. Betheniastuck out in my memory because of not only being a female doctor in a time whenthere were few, but she was also a divorced woman and one who had overcome manyhardships to fulfill her dream.

In 1859 she married LeGrand Hill in Roseburg, Oregon at theage of fourteen. By sixteen she’d givenbirth to her only child and became a divorced woman at the age of nineteen.

A quote from her autobiography, Dr. Owens-Adair; Some of Her Life Experiences (1906) “I was, indeed,surrounded with difficulties seemingly insurmountable, __a husband for whom Ihad lost all love and respect, a divorce, the stigma of which would cling to meall my future life, and a sickly babe I my arms, all rose darkly before me.”

Her greatest assets were her innate optimism, stamina, andher refusal to be a victim. Her courageto leave an abusive marriage, provided for herself and her son and gain aneducation to become one of the first women to practice medicine in Oregon hasmade her an icon of many women over the years.

Most of her life was spent in the Pacific Northwest, but shewas born in Van Buren County, Missouri, the second of nine children. When shewas three, her family migrated to Oregon Country. They first settled in theClatsop Plains in 1843 and later moved to the Umpqua Valley across the riverfrom Roseburg.

Bethenia was small- 5 feet 4 inches. She’d always wished tobe a boy and until the age of twenty-five would not be outdone by her brotherin wrestling or feats of strength. “…I realized early in life that a girl washampered and hemmed in on all sides simply by the accident of sex” She was one ofthe first women libbers.

When a man took liberties when she was thirteen and washingclothes she used the long broom handle she was stirring the wash with and beathim until her mother pulled her off. Her words to the man, “You little skunk,if you ever dare to come near me again, I’ll kill you”

But she was not immune to men and being wooed. She marriedLeGrand Hill, one of her father’s farmhands. He turned out to prefer huntingand reading to working and after the divorce when asked why she left herhusband Bethenia said “ Because he whipped my baby unmercifully and struck andchoked me,—and I was never born to be struck by mortal man”

When she divorced Bethenia knew she’d be protected by herparents but she was an independent woman and was determined to provide forherself and George, her son. Shereclaimed her maiden name and worked washing clothes, sewing, and taught schoolso she could complete her education. She moved around but ended up back inRoseburg in 1867 and started up a successful dressmaking and millinery businessfor six years.

This is where she became involved with the temperance andwoman suffrage causes. She was a friend of Abigail Scott Duniway and became asubscription agent and regular contributor to Duniway’s woman’s rightsnewspaper the New Northwest located inPortland, Oregon.

After her son attended college Bethenia entered medicalschool. She enjoyed nursing the sick. There were only a few options for a womanto enter a medical school. She was admitted to Eclectic Medical College inPhiladelphia. The institution trained sectarian practitioners as homeopaths,hydropaths, and eclectics. When she told family and friends of her enrollmentthey were strongly opposed. Women weren’t doctors!

While her family, including her own son, opposed herbecoming a doctor, her dear friends Jesse Applegate, an early Oregon pioneerencouraged Bethenia to study medicine. In 1873, she arranged for George to board withDuniway and work on her newspaper, and then Bethenia headed east. A year latershe returned with her medical degree and opened an office in Portland. She specialized in care of women andchildren.

In the fall of 1878 she enrolled in the University of Michigan’sMedical School. Even her dear friend Jesse Applegate thought it was foolish toleave a profitable practice to return to school.

But Bethenia wanted a medical degree from a reputableinstitution. She received that degree in 1880 at the age of forty. She thenspent that summer of clinical and hospital work in Chicago and did postgraduatework at Michigan and toured European hospitals. She returned to Portland and her new specialty was diseases of the eyesand ears with the majority of her patients still being women and children.

She married Col. John Adair, a graduate of West Point, in1884. She birthed a child three years later at the age of forty-seven but hechild only lived three days. They adopted two boys and lived on a farm nearAstoria for eleven years where Bethenia had a general practice as a countrydoctor.

By 1899 rheumatism drove Bethenia to a better climate, Sheand her husband moved to North Yakima, Washington where her son, George, waspracticing medicine. Bethenia retired in 1905 and the next year herautobiography was published. Her husband died in 1915 and she followed himSeptember 11, 1926 at the age of eighty-six.

Bethenia Owens-Adair was a testament to what a woman canattain if she has a mind to. Every time I read her story it makes me proud toknow there were women before me who stuck to their guns and went againstsociety to better themselves.

www.patyjager.net

www.patyjager.blogspot.com

Sources:

Pacific Northwest Women1815-1925 by Jean M. Ward & Elaine A. Maveety

Dr. Owens-Adair; Someof Her Life Experiences (1906) by Dr. Owens-Adair

Ten Tidbits About My New Novel

2012-03-10T06:51:00.001-06:00

By Stacey Coverstone

As an author, I’m often asked if I base my characters on real people, or if the things that take place in my books have happened to me or to people I know. Usually, my answer is no. However, such is not the case in my latest western romance.

This book is titled BIG SKY and it’s a contemporary romance set on a ranch in Montana, and it includes some paranormal elements (read Ghost). Although I don’t live on a ranch, or in Montana, I have had an experience with a poltergeist. But the similarities between my real life and this book don’t stop there. For this story, I’ve used several events from my life as inspiration for plot points, as well as featuring my pets as characters and naming several characters after friends and family. I thought it might be fun to share a few tid-bits in this regard.

*Stacey will give away an electronic copy to one visitor--don't forget to leave a comment!*

1. The fictional town of Prosperity is based on the town of Butte, Montana, where my author friend, Melissa Blue, lives. She often talks about how beautiful that area is, which is why I decided to set my story there.

2. A few of my animals are characters in this book. My husband’s paint horse, Bill, is the hero’s horse. However, one difference between the real Bill and the fictionalized Bill is that our horse is not sensitive to spurs. My former Haflinger mare, Dusty, also shows up as one of the horses the heroine, Taylor, rides. And when I decided to give Brett, the hero, a pet, my gray cat, Caesar, seemed perfect for the job.

3. The owner of the western store where Taylor and Brett shop is Mrs. Kruse, my aunt, who is very supportive of my writing.

4. The cowboy bar in my story called Maverick’s is based on an actual cowboy bar in Jacksonville, Florida that I went to with six of my friends during a girlfriend vacation.

5. The scene where Taylor rides a mechanical bull was inspired by my real-life experience in riding a mechanical bull for the first (and last) time. My adventure took place, incidentally, at the cowboy bar mentioned above when I was 51 years old.

6. The pony my heroine had as a child was called Tony, much like my husband’s pony when he was a boy.

7. The scene where Taylor gets thrown from her horse and knocked unconscious is based on a real-life incident that happened to me. However, the animals involved are not the same.

8. Two female characters, the hero’s ex-wife and the nurse for Taylor’s mother, were given the names of my daughters. When I began this story, my youngest daughter asked why I hadn’t put her and her sister in a book yet, so I did. Hopefully, they won’t be able to relate to the characters. (You’ll have to read the book to see what I mean).

9. A music professor who is a friend asked me if I was going to put him in a story someday, so I made him one of the wranglers at the Slash Y Ranch. When I recently told him he’s a cowboy now, he got very excited.

10. Models for the characters in this story are actors Timothy Olyphant, Jamie Anne Allman, Rachel McAdams, Adam Beach and A. Martinez. If you read my book, drop me an email and give me your guesses on who is who.

Here’s the blurb for BIG SKY:

Taylor never expected her reluctant homecoming to include a murder, a ghost…and a hunk of a ranch foreman.

Photographer Taylor Young fled to L.A. following her sister’s betrayal six years ago. Now Jamie’s dead, Mama has broken a hip in a drunken fall, and Taylor’s stepfather begs her to return to her family’s Montana ranch to make amends.

After a bitter divorce, Brett Austin, foreman of the Slash Y Ranch, believes horses are more of a sure thing than women. But the boss's daughter changes all that when she sets his heart bucking like a wild bronc.  

When Taylor’s mother insists Jamie’s death was not suicide—a theory confirmed by Jamie’s ghost—Taylor wonders who could have wanted her sister dead. With a list of suspects as long as her camera strap, Taylor needs an ally. Could that person be a tall drink of water in a cowboy hat?~*~*~*~

And here’s a short excerpt for you:

“Don’t you have some cattle to rustle up? Or fences to mend?” Taylor slammed her foot on the gas pedal and rubbed her throbbing temples.
“You’re not going to get that vehicle started,” Brett stated. “It needs to sit. Hop on back.” He patted the horse’s rump. There was a mischievous twinkle in the horse’s eye.
“Thanks. But I’m not going to ride on the back of that animal with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know you or that paint.”
Brett shrugged. “Will’s not going to like it if I leave you stranded.”
“I’m hardly stranded. The car will start soon. Or I’ll walk.”
He flicked the reins. “Giddy-up, Bill.” With a cluck of Brett’s tongue, the horse took up a slow trot.
Taylor peered through the windshield and watched the man’s body sway in rhythm with his gelding’s gait. He knew how to sit a horse. But what did he know about cars? He might understand as much about vehicles as her—which was next to nothing. She could be waiting here for an hour.
She glanced down at her heels wishing she had on more sensible shoes. Walking a mile down a hard-packed dirt road would destroy them—and her feet.
Darn. Perhaps she should reconsider the cowboy’s offer.
Taylor flung the car door open and jumped out. Planting her feet apart, she placed two fingers between her lips and whistled.
Brett told Bill to whoa and tossed his hand over the saddle horn. His and Taylor’s gazes locked. His intense stare burned a hole into her. Her head angled in question. Suddenly, she felt as if her slacks were made of see-through paper. When he lifted his hand and waved her forward, she narrowed her eyes at his cocksure grin.
~*~*~*~
Thanks for stopping by.
Stacey
http://www.staceycoverstone.com

BIG SKY Available Now in Print, Ebook and Kindle

http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=175_141&products_id=4755

http://www.amazon.com/Big-Sky-ebook/dp/B0077PU70O/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1331237794&sr=1-3

Margaret "Molly" Brown: Undaunted & Unsinkable! by Virginia Campbell

2012-03-08T01:00:00.000-06:00

MARGARET "MOLLY" BROWN: UNDAUNTED & UNSINKABLE!

by Virginia Campbell

Molly Brown (Margaret Tobin) was born on 18th July, 1867, in Hannibal, Missouri (also the boyhood home of Mark Twain), the daughter of John Tobin and Johanna Collins, both Irish immigrants. Margaret grew up in a cottage just blocks from the Mississippi River, and attended the grammar school run by her aunt, Mary O'Leary. Maggie’s mother, Johanna, believed in education for everyone. Though the Tobins had little money, Johanna insisted that Maggie and her five siblings attend Mrs. O’Leary’s grammar school until they were in their early teens. As a teenager, Maggie worked stripping tobacco leaves at Garth's Tobacco Company in Hannibal. At the age of eighteen she followed her newly married sister, Mary Ann Tobin Landrigan, to Leadville, Colorado. Margaret, known as Maggie until she married, went to work for Daniels and Fisher Mercantile in Leadville, where she worked in the Carpets and Draperies department. At a church picnic during the early summer of 1886, she met James Joseph ("J.J.") Brown, a miner whose parents had also immigrated from Ireland. They married on 1 September, 1886, at the Annunciation Church in Leadville, and lived in J.J.'s cabin in Stumpftown, a small, primarily Irish community up the hill from Leadville. The Browns had two children: Lawrence Palmer, born in 1887, and Catherine Ellen ("Helen"), born in 1889. After the birth of Lawrence, the Browns bought a house in Leadville and were eventually joined by members of both their families.

Over the next few years, J.J. earned the reputation of being one of the best mining men in the business. He was intelligent and worked hard, and it paid off. A group of Leadville mining men asked J.J. to run their mining operations, called Ibex Mining Company. In 1893, after the price of silver fell and gold rose, Ibex wanted to look for gold ore in the Little Jonny Mine, which was once one of the major producers of silver and lead in the area. They immediately hit dolomite sand and the mine caved in, on more than one occasion. J.J. Brown, superintendent of all the Ibex properties, invented a method of using timber and baled hay to stop the Little Jonny Mine from caving in. It worked, and tons of high-grade copper and gold were found. The vein of gold was so pure it was called the world’s richest strike. By the end of October, 1893, Little Jonny was shipping 135 tons of gold a day. Ibex, and the Browns, were millionaires. J.J. and Maggie’s hard work had paid off big. In 1893, J.J. and Maggie moved to Denver, as many wealthy miners from Leadville did.

Rumor has it that Maggie and J.J. were not readily accepted by Denver society, although, the Denver society pages were full of tales of goings on at the Brown household. The public was fascinated with Maggie. Soon after moving to Denver, the Browns longed for their simple life in the country, so they bought 400 acres on Bear Creek, about nine miles from their Denver city home. Today it is called the “Molly Brown Summer House” and is a big tourist attraction in Denver, but Maggie called it Avoca, after a poem by her favorite Irish poet, Sir Thomas Moore, called “The Meeting Of The Waters”. Avoca was a working farm, which produced hay, wheat, fruit, and sugar beets, as well as a dairy operation, which was built south of the Avoca Lodge. The dairy barn had a second floor with sprawling hardwood floors, where Maggie threw parties that lasted three days. It is rumored that the guests would arrive by train at Sheridan Junction, then take a hayride to Avoca on a wagon sent to pick up the guests by J.J. and Maggie. When the Browns stayed at their home on Pennsylvania Ave. they had fresh milk, butter, cheese, and fruit from Avoca sent by train daily. The Denver Times reported the social gatherings at Avoca as “highlights of the season”. Molly would always be dressed to the hilt, and was thrilled when her outfit made the fashion news. Once when it was pointed out to her that it was improper to wear diamonds in the daytime, she replied, “ I didn’t think so either, until I had some.” Maggie enjoyed living large and being on top of the social scene much more than J.J.. Their different views on this subject eventually led to the demise of their marriage, which began to fall apart by the early 1900’s. J.J. had no desire to be accepted by the elite and prestigious, with or without Maggie.

While her children were young, Maggie had been involved in the early feminist movement in Leadville and the establishment of the Colorado Chapter of the National American Women's Suffrage Association. She also worked in soup kitchens to assist families of Leadville miners. Maggie became a founding member of the Denver Woman's Club, part of a network of clubs which advocated literacy, education, suffrage, and human rights in Colorado and throughout the United States. She raised funds to build the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception as well as St. Joseph's Hospital, and worked with Judge Ben Lindsey to help destitute children and establish the first Juvenile Court in the country, which eventually became the basis for today's U.S. juvenile court system. She also attended the Carnegie Institute in New York, where she studied literature, language, and drama. In addition to raising two children of her own, she raised the three daughters of her brother Daniel: Grace, Florence, and Helen Tobin, whose mother had died when they were young in White Pine, Colorado. Margaret Tobin Brown was one of the first women in the United States to run for political office, and ran for the Senate eight years before women even had the right to vote. On July 25, 1914, with Alva Vanderbilt (Mrs O.H.P.) Belmont, she organized an international women's rights conference at Marble House in Newport, Rhode Island, which was attended by human rights activists from around the world. A lifelong advocate of human rights, Margaret was also a prominent figure following the Ludlow Massacre in Trinidad, Colorado, in April 1914, a significant landmark in the history of labor rights in the United States.

By the time Margaret Tobin Brown boarded Titanic at Cherbourg, France, she had already made a significant impact in the world. It was many years after Maggie and J.J. Brown separated when she took that famous trip on the Titanic. In April of 1912, Maggie was in Europe with her daughter, Helen, when she got word that her first grandson, Larry’s son, was sick. Consequently, she cut her European trip short and booked passage on the Titanic; $4350 for a first class stateroom for the six-day trip. Helen stayed in London with friends, so she did not accompany Maggie on the Titanic. On the night the Titanic hit the iceberg, April 15, 1912, Maggie had retired to her stateroom to read. She was engrossed in her book, when a crash struck her window overhead and knocked her to the floor. She left the stateroom and found men running around the halls in their pajamas. She went back into her stateroom and put on a black velvet two-piece suit with black and white silk lapels, seven pairs of socks, and a sable stole J.J. had given her back in the day. She wrapped a silk capote around her head, grabbed $500 in cash, put on a life jacket, grabbed a blanket from the bed, and headed for the deck and the lifeboats. Margaret helped load others into lifeboats and eventually was forced to board lifeboat six. She and the other women in lifeboat six worked together to row, keep spirits up. The lifeboat was supposed to hold 65 passengers, but it was pushed off the Titanic with only 21 women and 2 men aboard. Their orders were to row to the light, but when lifeboat hit the water, they realized there was no light. Maggie positioned a very heavy oar, and together with another woman, rowed the lifeboat away from the sinking ship, through water littered with bodies, furniture, and personal items. They could hear screams and gunshots coming from the ship. They found out later that the gunshots were really the boilers. Maggie kept the moral up. She used her pioneer spirit to keep the others rowing so they would not freeze. The sea was calm and she knew they had a good chance of survival. Those who could not row she kept occupied with conversation. Then suddenly, at 4:30 a.m. April 15^th,the boilers exploded, the sea parted, and the Titanic broke in half and sank. Of the approximately 2300 people on board, almost 1600 perished in the great tragedy.

They were finally rescued by the Carpathia, a great ship that was able to save from the lifeboats, over half of the thirteen hundred survivors. Once onboard the Carpathia, Maggie would not be a victim. She knew most of the survivors had lost everything. Since she spoke five languages, she could communicate with foreign passengers and help them find financial assistance. Margaret's language skills in French, German, and Russian were an asset, and she remained on Carpathia until all Titanic survivors had met with friends, family, or medical/emergency assistance. She got the first class survivors to donate to those less fortunate, and by the time the Carpathia had docked in New York, she had gathered together $10,000.00 to help the needy. Once in New York, Maggie found out her grandson was fine. She decided to stay in New York to continue helping the less fortunate Titanic survivors, and was elected president of the survivors committee. Margaret Tobin Brown returned to Denver a true national hero. Those high society types who shunned her now had open arms. She had finally received the social status she felt she deserved. In a letter to her daughter shortly after the Titanic sinking, she wrote:

"After being brined, salted, and pickled in mid ocean I am now high and dry... I have had flowers, letters, telegrams-people until I am befuddled. They are petitioning Congress to give me a medal... If I must call a specialist to examine my head it is due to the title of Heroine of the Titanic."

Her sense of humor prevailed; to her attorney in Denver she wired:

"Thanks for the kind thoughts. Water was fine and swimming good. Neptune was exceedingly kind to me, and I am now high and dry."

On May 29, 1912, as chair of the Survivor's Committee Margaret presented a silver loving cup to Captain Rostron of the Carpathia and a medal to each Carpathia crew member. In later years Margaret helped erect the Titanic memorial that stands in Washington, D.C.; visited the cemetery in Halifax, Nova Scotia, to place wreaths on the graves of victims; and continued to serve on the Survivor's Committee. She was particularly upset that, as a woman, she was not allowed to testify at the Titanic hearings. In response she wrote her own version of the event which was published in newspapers in Denver, New York, and Paris. Margaret used her new fame as a platform to talk about issues that deeply concerned her: labor rights, women's rights, education and literacy for children, and historic preservation. During World War I, she worked with the American Committee for Devastated France to help rebuild devastated areas behind the front line, and worked with wounded French and American soldiers (the Chateau of Blerancourt, a French-American museum outside of Paris, has a commemorative plaque that bears her name). In 1932 she was awarded the French Legion of Honor for her "overall good citizenship," which included helping organize the Alliance Francais, her ongoing work in raising funds for Titanic victims and crew, her work with Judge Ben Lindsey on the Juvenile Court of Denver, and her relief efforts during World War I.

In her latter years Margaret returned to her earlier fascination with drama, particularly Sarah Bernhardt, and studied in Paris in the Bernhardt tradition. She performed to appreciative audiences in Paris and New York. J.J. Brown died 5 September 1922 in New York. Margaret Tobin Brown died of a brain tumor on 26 October 1932, at the Barbizon Hotel in New York where she had been working with young actresses. After a simple funeral service Maggie was buried, next to J.J., in Long Island's Holy Rood Cemetery. Despite the legend, she was not ostracized by society nor rejected by her family. The myth of "Molly" Brown has very little to do with the real life of Margaret Tobin Brown, although it speaks to her spirit. Margaret was never known as "Molly": the name was a Hollywood invention. The story began in the 1930s with the colorful pen of Denver Post reporter Gene Fowler, who created a folk tale, and sensationalist writer Carolyn Bancroft, who wrote a highly fictional account for a romance magazine that was turned into a booklet. This story enjoyed various radio broadcasts during the 1940s and was the basis for the Broadway play, "The Unsinkable Molly Brown", which eventually became the MGM movie of the same name, starring Debbie Reynolds. Even James Cameron's 1997 film "Titanic" has very little to do with the real story of Margaret Tobin Brown.

The First-Class Menu As served in the first-class dining saloon of the R.M.S. Titanic on April 14, 1912

First Course

Hors D'Oeuvres
Oysters

Second Course

Consommé Olga
Cream of Barley

Third Course

Poached Salmon with Mousseline Sauce, Cucumbers

Fourth Course

Filet Mignons Lili
Saute of Chicken, Lyonnaise
Vegetable Marrow Farci

Fifth Course

Lamb, Mint Sauce
Roast Duckling, Apple Sauce
Sirloin of Beef, Chateau Potatoes
Green Pea
Creamed Carrots
Boiled Rice
Parmentier & Boiled New Potatoes

Sixth Course

Punch Romaine

Seventh Course

Roast Squab & Cress

Eighth Course

Cold Asparagus Vinaigrette

Ninth Course

Pate de Foie Gras
Celery

Tenth Course

Waldorf Pudding
Peaches in Chartreuse Jelly
Chocolate & Vanilla Eclairs
French Ice Cream

On the evening of April 14, 1912 a number of first-class passengers on the Titanic reveled in a privately hosted feast in the first-class á la carte restaurant. The repast was served with a different wine for each course. Following the tenth course fresh fruits and cheeses were available followed by coffee and cigars accompanied by port and, if desired, distilled spirits.

Belle Starr

2012-03-06T00:00:00.001-06:00

By Kathy Otten

While researching hotels for the hero and heroine of Lost Hearts to stay, I discovered the Elk House, in McAlester, Indian Territory. This popular hotel was one of the businesses started by Ed Sittle and his family, immigrants from Germany.

Inside was a piano that was played by the famous female outlaw, Belle Starr, whenever she was a guest. She was a gifted pianist who learned to play the piano while she was a young girl attending the Carthage Academy for young ladies, in Carthage, MO. There she learned arithmetic and algebra and excelled in Latin, Greek and Hebrew.

While smart and talented, Belle was not a pretty girl. Known as “The Lady Desperado,” “The Bandit Queen,” and the Petticoat Terror of the Plains,” Belle was considered a trollop and attracted to some of the worst “bad boys of her time.”

Myra Belle Shirley was born February 5, 1848, to a well-off family in Washington County, AK. After Myra’s brother was killed in the Civil War, the family moved to Scyene, TX. There Myra met the ex-Quantrill guerilla, Coleman Younger.

When Myra was twenty she became reacquainted with an old childhood sweetheart from Carthage, James Reed, who ran with the infamous Tom Starr. After a pregnancy and a quick marriage, Myra raised their daughter while Reed rode with Tom Starr. During this time Reed killed a man named Shannon, which forced him to take his family to CA. Reed provided for his family by committing highway robberies and Myra gave birth to a son in 1871.

To avoid arrest for stage robbery the family moved back to Scyene where they opened a livery. Myra tended the business, leaving James to steal horses in Indian Territory. In 1874, James was killed by Deputy Sheriff J.T. Morris near Paris, TX.

Myra sold the livery, left her children with relatives and headed to Dallas, where she worked as a Faro dealer and became acquainted with Jesse James. In 1877, Myra moved north to Galena, KS and became the common law wife of a gambler named Bruce Younger, who was a cousin of Cole.

In 1880 she married Tom Starr’s son, Sam. They moved to Sam’s ranch near Eufaula in Indian Territory and they named the ranch Younger Bend. It became something of a robbers’ roost for stock thieves and killers to hideout from the law.

At one time there was a reward posted, of ten thousand dollars in gold for Sam and Belle Starr, dead or alive. They were arrested by Deputy United States Marshals and brought before the “Hanging Judge,” Isaac Parker. They received light sentences and were back at their ranch in the fall of 1883.

Once home Belle became involved with a twenty-three year old outlaw who frequented the ranch, a man named Blue Duck. After Blue Duck ended up in the state penitentiary in 1886, Belle began a new relationship with John Middleton, who was wanted for the murder of Sheriff J.H. Black. Before she and Middleton could leave the ranch, Middleton was found dead a few miles south, from a shot gun blast to his face.

Then in December 1886, Sam Starr was shot in a dance hall brawl. In 1888, Belle took up with one of Tom Starr’s nephew’s, Jim July. In 1889 Belle convinced July to turn himself in. She accompanied him as far as San Bois. July continued alone to Fort Smith and Belle headed back to Younger Bend.

A shot gun blast threw Belle from her horse and left her dying by the side of the road. The name of her killer is unknown and she was buried in the yard of Younger Bend.

The piano is now in the home of a direct descendent of Ed Sittle, the owner of Elk House where Belle once played it so beautifully.

Nancy Ward, Cherokee Woman, Advocate & Patriot

2012-03-04T01:11:00.000-06:00

by Amber Leigh Williams

Since it’s Women’s HistoryMonth, I thought I would write about an influential woman of the American Westwho undoubtedly changed the way of life for her fellow Native Americans and whowas a pioneer of women of her time. No one in the Cherokee Nation was more ofan advocate for women’s rights, peace, and a better quality of life for herpeople than the Cherokee woman Nanyehi, also known as Nancy Ward. Nanyehi wasborn in 1738 as a member of the Wolf Clan in Chota, a historic Cherokee site inMonroe County, Tennessee. Perhaps her desire for peace between the Cherokee andtheir European-Americans neighbors was passed down from her parents. Her motherwas a Native American woman and her father a white man who had ingratiatedhimself into the Cherokee Nation and lived among her mother’s people. Nanyehieventually married a Cherokee man named Kingfisher. By the time she wasseventeen, they had two children, a girl – Catherine – and a boy – LittlefellowFivekiller.

Like several Native American women,Nanyehi was a warrior who fought alongside the men of her tribe. During theBattle of Taliwa, she and Kingfisher fought together against the Creeks in1755. Unfortunately, both he and her father were killed. To avenge their deaths,she famously took up her husband’s rifle and led her tribe to victory. This actbrought her much respect from her fellow Cherokee. It was then that she becamea Ghigau at the age of eighteen. Forthose who don’t know, Ghigau was atitle meaning “Beloved Woman” in the Cherokee Nation. It gave Nanyehi the powerto sit in councils and extend pardons to captives.

At this time, Nanyehi chose tobecome more widely known as Nancy Ward when she married for a second time toBryant Ward of South Carolina. Bryant was a colonist and Indian trader withwhom she had a daughter, her third child, named Elizabeth (who later became thewife of General Joseph Martin). Around this time, the Revolutionary War was infull swing. Nancy gained praise again, this time from the white colonists, bywarning them of her Cherokee cousin’s plan to attack their settlement. Thecolonists rewarded her by naming her a Patriot for the Daughters of theAmerican Revolution and the Society of the Sons of the American Revolution.

In 1776, Nancy chose to use her powers as a Ghigau to give a captive by the name of LydiaBean pardon. Lydia became a captive of Nancy’s tribe after suffering injuriesduring the Cherokee attack on Fort Watauga. After taking Lydia into her homeand treating her battle injuries, the two became close friends. It was underthe influence of Lydia Bean that Nancy began to improve the everyday life ofCherokee woman. By first teaching Nancy a different loom-weaving technique, thegarments the Cherokees wore saw improvement and no longer had to be bought fromtraders but made from their own homes. Not to mention, this new technique keptCherokee women out of the fields. Before they began weaving, a woman’s job wastraditionally to do the planting. In this way, both Lydia and Nancy revolutionizedthe role of Cherokee women. In addition, Lydia and Nancy began to shift theCherokee way of life toward the better. Lydia gave to Nancy two dairy cows andtaught her to raise cattle. By eating dairy products, the Cherokee couldsustain themselves during a poor hunting season. Through these new ways of lifeboth for Cherokee men and women, their society as a whole began to mirror thatof the European-American settlements. This new way of life called for morelabor, however, and many of them began to use chattel slaves. In fact, Nancywas one of the first Cherokee people to purchase slaves.

When the Cherokee territorybegan to shrink, Nancy decided to use her established position as a Ghigau and Patriot for the Daughters ofthe American Revolution and the Society of the Sons of the American Revolutionto fight against the sale of her tribe’s lands. By doing so, she became knownas a de facto ambassador for her people. She led the Women’s Council againstthe sale of Cherokee land in 1808 and 1817. Despite their best efforts, theland was lost to the whites’ growing demand for new settlements.

In 1781, she traveled with theCherokee to use her position as an ambassador when they met an Americandelegation led by a man named John Sevier. While Sevier scorned the fact thatthe Cherokee had brought a woman along to act as an important diplomat, Nancyargued that the American delegation should have invited at least one woman to actas their negotiator, making a moving speech that impressed the delegation andlives on in history:

"You knowthat women are always looked upon as nothing; but we are your mothers; you areour sons. Our cry is all for peace; let it continue. This peace must lastforever. Let your women's sons be ours; our sons be yours. Let your women hearour words."

Not until modern times was a Native American woman’sspeech more noteworthy for its advocacy of women’s rights. Nancy’s is mosttouching because it shows that she believed in the rights of women of bothraces.

As Nancy Ward grew older, she settled down in southeasternTennessee. On what was then called the Ocowee River, she opened an inn, whichshe ran alongside her son until she passed away in 1822 or 1824. It’s probablya good thing she did not live to see the Trail of Tears, which removed theCherokee people from the lands she fought so hard to preserve for them. Herson, Fivekiller, was later buried with her on a hilltop site just south of whatis now known as Benton, Tennessee. A statue of Nancy stood for seventy years ina Grainger County cemetery until it was stolen in the 1980’s. In 1923, the Daughter of the American Revolution posthumously awarded Nancy Ward withher own chapter based in Chattanooga. The chapter decided to place amemorial marker at Nancy’s gravesite and is now raising money for a Nancy WardMuseum. Until the time that the museum is built, the Polk County Historical andGenealogical Society will maintain a Nancy Ward Room in their genealogy library.Nancy Ward was also the last woman to be bestowed with the title of BelovedWoman of the Cherokee Nation until the 1980’s. The city of Vonore, Tennesseecelebrates her life achievements each year with Nancy Ward Cherokee HeritageDays.

Annie Oakley

2012-03-02T18:12:00.000-06:00

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

Phoebe Ann Oakley Mozee was born August 13, 1860 in Patterson Township, Darke County, Ohio. Even though her mother named her Phoebe Ann her sisters called her Annie. She took the stage name Oakley, reportedly after Oakley, Ohio.

Her parents, Jacob and Susan, were Quakers originally from Pennsylvania. After a tavern fire ended their livelihood as innkeepers, they rented a farm in Ohio. Jacob, who had fought in the War of 1812, died in 1866 from pneumonia and overexposure in freezing weather. Annie was the fifth of seven children. Her mother remarried, had another child and was widowed a second time. During this time Annie was put in the care of the superintendent of the county poor farm, where she learned to embroider and sew, but never attended school. She spent time in near servitude for a local family where she met with mental and physical abuse. When she reunited with her family, her mother had married a third time.

Born in a log cabin on the Ohio frontier, Annie Oakley began shooting game at age nine to support her widowed mother and siblings. She quickly proved to be a dead shot and word spread so much that at age sixteen, Annie went to Cincinnati to enter a shooting contest with Frank E. Butler (1850-1926), an accomplished marksman who performed in vaudeville. Annie won the match by one point and Frank Butler's heart as well. They were married and she became his assistant in his traveling shooting act. Frank recognized that Annie was far more talented and relinquished the limelight to her, becoming her assistant and personal manager. In 1885 they joined Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, run by the legendary frontiersman and showman Buffalo Bill Cody.

Whether it be a pistol, rifle, or shotgun, Annie Oakley was masterful with them all. Dubbed "Little Sure Shot" by Chief Sitting Bull (she was 5 feet tall), her sharp shooting in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show won her many awards and captivated audiences far and wide. Her name remains synonymous with firearms and entertainment.

For seventeen years Annie Oakley was the Wild West Show's star attraction with her marvelous shooting feats. At 90 feet Annie could shoot a dime tossed in midair. In one day with a .22 rifle she shot 4,472 of 5,000 glass balls tossed in midair. With the thin edge of a playing card facing her at 90 feet, Annie could hit the card and puncture it with five or six more shots as it settled to the ground. Shooting the ashes off a cigarette held in Frank's mouth was part of the Butler and Oakley act. In a celebrated event while touring in Europe, Wilhelm, Crown Prince of Germany, invited Annie to shoot a cigarette held in his own lips. Annie had Wilhelm hold the cigarette in his hand and not his mouth; she accomplished this challenge, as always effortlessly. In this period Annie Oakley was easily recognizable by the numerous shooting medals that adorned her chest.

In a train wreck in 1901, Annie suffered a spinal injury that required five operations and even left her partially paralyzed for a while. Although she recovered very well, Annie toured less frequently during the latter part of her career. Nonetheless, her shooting expertise did not wane and she continued to set records. In a shooting contest in Pinehurst, N.C. in 1922, sixty-two-year-old Annie hit 100 clay targets straight from the 16 yard mark.

Annie Oakley died of pernicious anemia on Nov. 3, 1926, in Greenville, Ohio, at the age of sixty-six. A legend in her own time, the remarkable life of Annie Oakley would be celebrated in the 1946 Herbert and Dorothy Fields musical Annie Get Your Gun.

In her life, Annie overcame poverty, mistreatment and physical injury with her determination and strength of character. She played a role in breaking barriers for women with her talent and accomplishments in her sport. She showed great compassion and generosity to orphans, widows and other young women.

Information taken from Women in History. Annie Oakley biography.

GERONIMO—THE LAST APACHE HOLDOUT

2012-02-28T01:00:00.007-06:00

It’s been a little over one hundred years since he died—and the mystique still surrounds Geronimo.

Who was he, really? Even now, historians can’t be completely sure of the facts. Some biographers list his birth date as June of 1829. Others say he was born somewhere between 1823-1825. He was the fourth child in a family of four boys and four girls, but even his birth name is disputed. Some say he was called “The One Who Yawns,” his name being “Goyathlay.” Others spell it differently: “Goyahkla.” But by the time he was in his mid-twenties, he was called by the name we remember: Geronimo

In 1850, because his mother, his young wife, (Alope) and his three children were murdered in a raid on their village by Mexican troops, Geronimo pledged that he would avenge their deaths. He received “the Power”—the life force of the universe that gave him supernatural abilities. These included being able to see into the future, walk without leaving tracks, and hold off the dawn. In a vision, he was told that no bullet would ever bring him down in battle, a prophecy that proved true.

Geronimo fought so savagely, so fiercely, that the Mexican troops began to call to Saint Jerome for deliverance from him. Thus, their cries for help became the name he was known by: Geronimo.

In addition to fighting the Mexicans, Geronimo found himself and his Chiracahua Apache tribe at odds with the U.S. Government. By the early 1870s, the federal government’s newly-instituted policy of placing the traditionally nomadic Apaches on reservations was the cause of regular uprisings. Geronimo fought for his peoples’ hereditary land for years.

In 1885, he led a group of more than 100 men, women and children in an escape from the reservation, to the mountains of Mexico. During this time, his band was pursued by more than 5,000 white soldiers, and over 500 Indian auxiliaries were employed to achieve Geronimo’s capture. It took over five months to track Geronimo to his camp in Mexico’s Sonora Mountains—over 1,645 miles away.

On March 27, 1886, exhausted and hopelessly outnumbered, Geronimo surrendered. His band consisted of only a few warriors, women and children. Also found was a young captive, a white boy, name Jimmy “Santiago” McKinn who had been kidnapped six months earlier. The boy had become so assimilated to the Apache way of life that he cried when he was forced to return to his parents.

As the group began the trek back to Fort Bowie, Arizona, Geronimo and some of the warriors, women and boys escaped once more, making their way back into the Sierra Madre.

On September 4, 1886, Geronimo surrendered for the last time to General Nelson A. Miles at Skeleton Canyon in southern Arizona. He was sent to Florida in a boxcar, a prisoner of war. It was May of 1887 before he was reunited with his family, and they were once again moved; this time, to Mount Vernon Barracks near Mobile, Alabama.

In 1894, Geronimo was again moved with other Apaches to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. He attempted to try and fit in, farming and joining the Dutch Reformed Church. He was expelled from the church for his penchant for gambling.

The federal government made many empty promises to Geronimo and his people, but they allowed him to keep the money he made from selling buttons from his clothing or posing for pictures at numerous fairs and exhibitions such as the Omaha Exposition in Omaha, NE (1898), the Pan American Exposition in Buffalo, NY (1901), and the St. Louis World’s Fair in St. Louis, MO (1904).

In 1905, Geronimo rode in President Theodore Roosevelt’s inaugural parade. It was also during this year that he told the story of his life to S. M. Barrett, who wrote “Geronimo: His Own Story”, which was published in 1906.

In 1909, Geronimo was riding home after drinking too much. He fell off of his horse and lay, wet and freezing, beside the road until he was discovered several hours later. Never having seen his beloved Arizona homeland again, he died of pneumonia on February 17, 1909.

Geronimo is buried at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in an Apache POW cemetery. There is a simple stone monument at his gravesite where people still bring icons and offerings and leave them. Baggies of sage, seashells, scraps of paper—homage to the greatest warrior who ever lived.

Geronimo was not a chief. He was not a medicine man. He was a leader of men—a fighter whose battle tactics are studied still in military institutions. In the quiet of the cemetery, his children, warriors, relatives and wives buried nearby, he is still a leader, respected and recognized all over the world.

Did you know: “Apache” is a word for “street thug” in France?
Did you know: There is a rumor that some of Geronimo’s warriors “disappeared” mysteriously from the boxcar as they were being transported to Florida?

Did you know: Signers of the Medicine Lodge Treaty were given burial rights in the main post cemetery at Fort Sill? (Quanah Parker and others are buried with white soldiers in the regular base cemetery.)

Did you know: The custom of paratroopers yelling, “Geronimo!” is attributed to Aubrey Ebenhart, a member of the U.S. Army’s test platoon at Ft. Benning, Georgia. He told his friends he would “yell Geronimo loud as hell when I go out that door tomorrow!” Which he did!

In my novel, Fire Eyes, Kaed Turner was abducted by the Apaches as a young boy, just as Jimmy McKinn was kidnapped by Geronimo’s band. Kaed and his younger siblings were traded to the Choctaw, where they were assimilated into the tribe.

This excerpt is a remembrance between Kaed and Chief Standing Bear, the man who raised him. I hope you enjoy it.

Cheryl

EXCERPT FROM FIRE EYES
Standing Bear dismounted and came forward to stand beside Kaed, and Kaed turned his full attention to the warrior, waiting for the older man to speak.

It was as it had been all those years ago, when Kaed had come to live with the Choctaw people. The Apache had killed his mother and father, then taken Kaed and his younger brother and sister into captivity. The Choctaws had bartered with the Apaches for the youngsters, so they’d been raised in the Choctaw way.
The healing bruises Kaed wore today were reminiscent of the ones he’d been marked with when he first met Standing Bear, close to twenty years earlier.

“Seems we’ve stood this way before, Chief.”

“Yes, Wolf. You were marked as you are today. But still strong enough to wear defiance in your eyes. Strong enough to stand, and fight.”

Kaed gave him a fleeting grin, remembering how, as a nine-year-old boy faced with being traded away, he had rammed his head into Standing Bear’s rock-hard belly, catching him off guard, nearly knocking him to the ground in front of the Apaches and Standing Bear’s own warriors.

Standing Bear smiled and put his hand to his stomach. “This recovered before my pride did.” He nodded at Kaed’s arm. “I hope it is not so with you, Wolf. You did all you could, yet I see you still hold some blame in your heart for yourself.”

Kaed had to admit it was true, and he didn’t understand it. When he went over it logically in his mind, as he had done a thousand times, he knew he wasn’t to blame, that he’d done everything he could have. But he’d never expected White Deer to do what she had done, and he understood the parallel Standing Bear was drawing. The chief had never expected the young boy Kaed had been to lower his head and run at him, either.

Standing Bear spoke in his native tongue. “Have you thought upon my words concerning Fire Eyes? Or will she go to one of my warriors?”

“She is my woman now,” Kaed said in the same language, “and will belong to no other man.”

Fire Eyes and all my other work is available here:
Cheryl's Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/author/cherylpierson

AMERICAN INDIAN CAPTIVES

2012-02-26T01:13:00.014-06:00

Guest Post By Elysa Hendricks

Elysa Hendricks,
Award Winning
Author

Growing up in the mid-west, aside from John Wayne and Clint Eastwood movies and TV westerns, I had little contact with the real West. My images were of tall, handsome, heroic cowboys fighting off savage Indians and outlaws, all the while never having to shave or bathe, while wearing white hats that never got dirty or fell off during a chase or gun battle. But despite my obviously misguided idea of what being a cowboy or a pioneer really was like, the American Old West fascinated me.

When I read Lucia St. Claire Robson's RIDE THE WIND and Larry McMurtry's LONESOME DOVE, my eyes were opened to the gritty reality of the Old West and the subject of Indian captives captured my imagination.

Cynthia Ann Parker and her
daughter, Prairie Flower or
Topsannah

Robson's book fictionalizes the true story of Cynthia Ann Parker, a nine-year old girl kidnapped by a Comanche war band, who massacred her family’s settlement. Cynthia Ann Parker, or Naduah, meaning "Keeps Warm With Us" was then adopted by the Comanche and lived with them for 24 years. She married Chief Peta Nocona and had three children with him.

Big Bend area of Texas,
one of the Comanche's habitat

At the age of 34, the Texas Rangers 'rescued' and returned her to her family. There she spent the remaining 10 years of her life unable to adjust to life in white society. On at least one occasion she tried to escape and return to the Comanche, but was again rescued and brought back to Texas.

Cynthia Ann's childhood home

Though she didn't speak of her life with the Comanche, she apparently couldn't understand her iconic status in society's eyes as being redeemed from the savages - who she considered her people. In 1870 she died of influenza. Her only surviving child, Quanah Parker, later became the last Comanche chief. His story is every bit as interesting as Cynthia's.

Chief Quannah Parker
in Comanche dress
And . . .

Chief Quanah Parker
dressed as a
white businessman

While researching my western romances I devoured everything I could find about the 'real' Old West, Cynthia Ann Parker and other accounts of Indian captives. Here of just a few of the books written about this fascinating and unfortunate woman:

WHERE THE BROKEN HEART STILL BEATS by Carolyn Meyer
THE CAPTURED: A TRUE STORY OF ABDUCTION BY THE INDIANS ON THE TEXAS FRONTIER by Scott Zesch
RIDE THE WIND by Lucia St Claire Robson
LIFE WITH THE COMANCHES: THE KIDNAPPING OF CYNTHIA ANN PARKER by Nancy Golden
RETURN: THE PARKER STORY by Jack K. Sheldon
COMANCHE MOON: A PICTURE NARRATIVE ABOUT CYNTHIA ANN PARKER by Jack Jackson

The subject of Indian abductions goes far beyond Cynthia Ann Parker.
THE CAPTURED: A TRUE STORY OF ABDUCTION BY THE INDIANS ON THE TEXAS FRONTIER by Scott Zesch
KIDNAPPED AND SOLD BY INDIANS -- TRUE STORY OF A 7-YEAR- OLD SETTLER CHILD (First-Hand Account Of Being Kidnapped By Indians) by Matthew Brayton
NINE YEARS AMONG THE INDIANS by Herman Lehmann

What I found most interesting about the first-hand accounts of those abducted and then adopted by Indians was how they bonded with their capturers and became Indian in their hearts. The younger they were at the time of abduction the less likely they were to ever adjust back into white society, but even those that were older, in their teens, often felt more affinity to their Indian families than their birth families. And those who were older, especially women, had a difficult time when they returned to their original homes. Many had married Indian men and given birth to children, which didn't set well with a society that often feared and hated Indians.

T.R. Fehrenbach in his book COMANCHES: A DESTRUCTION OF A PEOPLE talks about how the two societies - western European and American Indian had little chance of co-existing. Though neither side of the conflict was totally good or purely evil, their needs, wants and belief systems were too divergent to live side-by-side without clashing. One or the other had to adapt or be destroyed. History shows us the outcome in our American West, but the same outcome has been seen across the globe when two opposing cultures clash.

When I decided to set my romances in the Old West, I wanted to convey to the reader the harsh realities of the frontier, both for the pioneers and the cowboys, and for the Indians who were losing their way of life. But I also wanted to provide the reader with a strong romance and a satisfying happy ending. Not every pioneer ended up abducted, scalped or dead. Some settled down to raise families and build the communities that exist today.

Blurb for HER WILD TEXAS HEART:

In a lawless west Texas border town, a woman has two choices: death or dishonor. Doctor's apprentice and former Comanche slave, KC O'Connor finds a third--she buries her femininity and longing for love beneath a boyish disguise. But the arrival of an injured greenhorn shatters the shell around her hidden heart.
Excerpt from HER WILD TEXAS HEART:

CHAPTER TWO

Near a small creek, Red Buffalo stopped his horse. Four days and nights of hard riding brought his raiding party hundreds of miles from the site of their successful raid. Any who sought to pursue them had been left behind long ago. Swinging his leg over his horse's back he slid to the ground and led his sweat lathered animal to the water. They would make camp and rest here for a while.

Half-a-dozen warriors joined him at the creek. They drank in silence. Quiet, determined and intense, during the hard ride, they now looked to him, their leader. At his almost imperceptible nod, the air erupted with bloodcurdling howls and shrieks of delight. Red Buffalo grinned in satisfaction. They deserved to celebrate. They had done well.

The raid on the hated Tejanos had been almost too easy. He and his warriors swept through the unsuspecting Texan settlement like a sharp knife through flesh. In minutes, it ended. Tejano men lay dead and dying, their bodies broken and bloodied, arrows and lances piercing their hated, pale skin. Fire purged the land of their obscene dwellings. Acrid smoke filled the air, which echoed with the screams of women and children's cries of terror. Not one of his warriors bore even a scratch.

Red Buffalo allowed himself a small smile as he relished the memory of the Texans shrieking in pain and pleading for mercy. He hated the Texans. Someday he would drive them from Comanche land forever. He chose to ignore the fact his own mother came from that hated breed. Only his greenish-gray eyes and the striking red highlights in his shoulder length hair gave evidence of the white blood flowing through his veins. In all else, he was Eka kura, Red Buffalo, Comanche, son of, Tomooru Tosa nakaai, Winter Hawk.

Not joining in his men's celebration, Red Buffalo surveyed the spoils of their raid. Twenty fine ponies crowded the banks of the creek, herded by the youth brought on the raid for just that purpose. Goods of all kinds lay across the backs of his warrior's ponies, bolts of colored cloth, pots, rifles and jugs of firewater.

He frowned. Red Buffalo did not like the white man's poison; it made strong men weak and weak men foolish. But he knew, now that they were safe from pursuit, he could do little to prevent the warriors from drinking it.

Their captives crouched on the ground, where the warriors had dropped them. One man, two women and three children. Red Buffalo had limited the number his warriors took. With only himself, a boy and six warriors, more captives would have slowed them down too greatly. By keeping their number small, Red Buffalo led his warriors deep into country the Tejanos thought safe from Comanche attack. The illusion of safety made the Texans lax. They paid for their carelessness with their lives.

Even his father could not object to this small number of captives. Of late, Winter Hawk spoke openly of his desire for peace with the whites. In order to keep the soldiers from their camps, he said, they must not take captives. But like all warriors of the Comanche, Red Buffalo was free to make his own decisions. While Winter Hawk might promise the white emissaries he would not raid their settlements or steal their women and children, Red Buffalo was not bound by his father's word.

The male captive looked half-dead. A broken arrow shaft protruded from his left thigh and blood matted his graying hair. His eyes stared vacantly upward. Red Buffalo nudged the man. No flicker of awareness crossed his face. His death would provide little amusement, his mind already gone from his body. One of the women knelt next to him, crooning softly. Plump and gray, well past her prime, she held little interest for Red Buffalo. If she caused no trouble and survived his men's attention, the women of the tribe would decide her fate.

Red Buffalo looked briefly at the children, two boys and a girl child of less than two summers. A boy, about ten, glared defiantly at Red Buffalo. The younger one, about six, clung to the older boy's leg. As Red Buffalo drew closer, the older boy stood up and pushed the smaller boy behind him.
Good, the boy had courage. Now, if he had sense he might someday be a Comanche. Children were always welcome among the Comanche.

HER WILD TEXAS HEART is available for $3.99 from Amazon at

http://www.amazon.com/HER-WILD-TEXAS-HEART-ebook/dp/B007464OSM/ref=sr_1_9?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1330120250&sr=1-9

Also at Amazon for western historical fans:

THIS HEART FOR HIRE blurb:
A convent reared innocent and a gunslinger with no memory struggle to survive and find love while crossing the dangerous west Texas frontier.

Abandoned by his father and betrayed by his half-brother and fiancee on the eve of his wedding, JAKE GALLAGHER no longer believes in love. Though he longs to go home, his undercover work for the Texas Rangers keeps him in a lawless Texas border town. Even though it jeopardizes his mission he refuses to stand by and watch outlaws rape and murder a young woman. Getting shot and losing his memory wasn’t part of his plan.

While fleeing from her stepfather’s plans to steal their ranch, CHRISTINA GOODWIN witnesses her brother’s murder and is left in the hands of a merciless band of outlaws. Raised in a strict convent, Christina has little knowledge of men or the world, its dangers and temptations. Frightened and alone, she is forced to accept the help of the dark gunslinger who rescues her. Though drawn to Jake’s potent masculinity, she hesitates to trust him, fearing her stepfather has sent him to bring her back. Unsure of Jake’s motives for helping her, she struggles against him, determined to find a way to avenge her brother’s death and regain control of her ranch from her stepfather.
THIS HEART FOR HIRE is at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/THIS-HEART-FOR-HIRE-ebook/dp/B005VF01TY/ref=sr_1_8?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1330124023&sr=1-8

Learn more about Elysa and her other books at http://www.elysahendricks.com/

The Stagecoach

2012-02-24T08:28:00.004-06:00

The Stagecoach

Those stylish, elegant coaches of yesteryear are so nostalgic, romantic, cozy and quaint. Or perhaps it’s our imagination that makes them so appealing.

The term Stagecoach came about because of the ‘coaches’ that carried passengers along a route in ‘stages’. Stagecoaches could be anything from buckboard wagons to elaborate ‘coaches.’ As long as they were used for public transportation and ran a regularly scheduled route, they were considered stagecoaches. Depending on the route, the number of regular passengers, the weather, and the distance, the coaches would vary, as would the number of horses or mules. Four was the usual number, but six-team coaches were not uncommon, especially for the larger, ‘overland’ stages, and the smaller, shorter coaches and routes were usually pulled by two horses. The average speed was five to twelve miles and hour.

Despite close quarters, long, bumpy and dusty roads, and threats of Indian or outlaw attacks, stagecoaches flourished and were widely used, even after the railroads crossed the nation. The term stationwagon came about when long wagons boasting three wide bench seats came into service for the specific role of carrying passengers to and from railroad stations.

In most vehicles, passengers were provided an average of 15 inches each, and sat with their knees dovetailed with the traveler across from them, and depending on other cargo the stage was carrying, passengers often had to hold their luggage on their laps. Etiquette, and/or, passenger behavior was strictly enforced. Wells Fargo had this list of rules posted:

· Abstinence from liquor is requested, but if you must drink share the bottle. To do otherwise makes you appear selfish and unneighborly.

· If ladies are present, gentlemen are urged to forego smoking cigars and pipes as the odor of same is repugnant to the gentler sex. Chewing tobacco is permitted, but spit with the wind, not against it.

· Gentlemen must refrain from the use of rough language in the presence of ladies and children.

· Buffalo robes are provided for your comfort in cold weather. Hogging robes will not be tolerated and the offender will be made to ride with the driver.

· Don't snore loudly while sleeping or use your fellow passenger's shoulder for a pillow; he or she may not understand and friction may result.

· Firearms may be kept on your person for use in emergencies. Do not fire them for pleasure or shoot at wild animals as the sound riles the horses.

· In the event of runaway horses remain calm. Leaping from the coach in panic will leave you injured, at the mercy of the elements, hostile Indians and hungry coyotes.

· Forbidden topics of conversation are: stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings.

· Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It's a long walk back. A word to the wise is sufficient.

Fares varied, not only due to distance, but class as well.

First class meant you rode all the way.

Second class meant you had to walk at bad places along the road.

Third class meant you had to push the coach when needed, especially on hilly terrain.

Depending on the schedule, stagecoaches would travel all night, stopping only for fresh horses and quick meals. When an overnight stay was included, the coach often arrived around midnight, and left again by six the following morning. Passengers were encouraged to pack food provisions and they were also told not to grease their hair before traveling because dust would stick to it.

Stagecoaches came to an end around 1915, when motor buses took the place of the horse-drawn coaches.

I’ve ridden in a few ‘tourist’ stagecoaches, and the short rides were fun, but I must admit I prefer modern transportation options. However, my heroines—and heroes—do not have that option. Here’s the short clip from a story that will be released in November from Harlequin Historicals. (Title yet to be determined)

Wyoming Territory

November 1877

The bitter wind that had trampled upon the leather curtains covering the stage windows and snuck beneath the buffalo robe now piled on the hard seat could easily have stolen her breath away, but Constance Jennings’s first glimpse of her destination already had her lungs locked tight. Pinning her quivering bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced over her shoulder, half-hoping the other passenger—an aging pastor who’d conversed pleasantly during the last leg of her journey—would indicate this wasn’t their stop after all.

No such luck. Reverend Stillman smiled kindly as he waved a hand for her to climb down the steps.

The trip had been long and cold, and days of sitting left her legs stiff and her knees popping. As her dress boots hit the dirt street, tremors seized her toes, and then traveled, snaked their way all the way to her scalp until every hair follicle tingled.

Had she completely lost her senses back in New York?

A gust of unrelenting Wyoming wind caught on her head-dress. The covering had once been stylish, but was now as tired and worn as the rest of traveling suit. She grabbed the curled straw brim to keep the wind from stealing the hat, and gulped at the swelling in her throat.

Which one was he? Ashton Kramer—the man who’d ordered a bride.

www.laurirobinson.blogspot.com

BANKHEAD HIGHWAY, BROADWAY OF AMERICA

2012-02-22T18:09:00.001-06:00

By Caroline Clemmons

On this blog we talk about all the things that opened the West for settlement and expansion. I have a new method to add to those mentioned before -- the first intercontinental highway.

The American obsession with the automobile began shortly before the turn of the 20th century and mushroomed thereafter. In Texas where I live, the first auto excursion is widely believed to have been that run in October 1899 by Edward H. R. Green and George P. Dorris over a rutted dirt road between Terrell and Dallas. This is not a great distance, but I wouldn’t want to race it on a dirt road! By 1902, auto races were a featured attraction of the State Fair of Texas. In 1903 the first coast-to-coast auto excursion was run between San Francisco and New York City.

1905 Ford Model F

In 1905 the Ford Motor Company produced 1,599 autos; two years later it built 14,887. And Garland, Texas, was as much a victim of the auto fascination as any other population in America. In August 1911, the Garland News named at least 21 Garland (a small town near Dallas) men who were proud owners of new automobiles.

America’s roads were not prepared to accommodate the automobile. Most were rutted wagon trails at best, alternately muddy or dusty. Even before the advent of the automobile, bicycle enthusiasts as early as the 1880s had begun to campaign for road improvement. By the turn of the 20th century, automobile clubs began taking the lead in the so-called Good Roads Movement. Eventually state and local entities grew increasingly supportive of the improvement of rural roads in an effort to boost rural economies and to help stem the migration of the farm population to the cities.

Since I live in Texas, I first became aware of the portion of the Bankhead Highway that runs through my area. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I didn’t realize it was a nationwide highway until a man was featured on the news because he was documenting in photos all the remaining sites along the highway, one of which was in the town nearest me. I decided to look up the details.

In 1911 and 1912 the Texas legislature voted some $5 million in bonds for rural road improvement. Early in 1913 the state legislature passed a bill providing for counties and cities to issue their own road bonds. Soon thereafter Texas governor O. B. Colquitt proclaimed November 5 and 6, 1913, to be "Good Roads Days," acknowledging that the Good Roads Movement promised great progress for the state. Local authorities across the state complained that short of the proclamation, the state was not coming forth with much help in building better roads. Not everyone thought a program of road improvement was a good idea. A group of farmers insisted that it would primarily benefit the "automobilists" and bring about increases in property taxes and farm rents.

The Good Roads Movement was increasingly successful in gaining support. Groups were organized to lobby lawmakers and local leaders, holding road conventions and disseminating published materials on the economic benefits of better roads. In 1913 the first coast-to-coast improved route, the Lincoln Highway, was pieced together by a Good Roads organization successfully convincing counties and cities to improve linked existing routes with their jurisdictions. Because the cooperation of these independent authorities was in most cases purely voluntary and their funding inconsistent, the quality of the improvements and maintenance could be piecemeal and undependable.

The John H. Bankhead National Highway was one of the earliest American auto trails. It connects the nation's capital, Washington, D.C., and San Diego, California on the Pacific. The Bankhead Highway was an important transcontinental route, and its name still appears on many roads to this day.

The Bankhead Highway was named for Good Roads promoter John Hollis Bankhead. John Hollis Bankhead (1842-1920) was a Confederate war hero, an Alabama state representative, a state senator, a ten-term member of the U.S. House of Representatives, and finally a U.S. Senator. While still a U.S. Representative, he introduced legislation to improve roads and other public works projects. Eventually, with his support as head of the Senate Committee on Post Offices and Post Roads, the Congress passed the Federal Aid Road Act of 1916. Senator Bankhead died in office, and the transcontinental highway through the South that he envisioned was named in his honor. He is buried near the Bankhead Highway, in the Bankhead family plot, Oak Hill Cemetery, Jasper, Alabama. Other famous Bankheads in the plot include the Senator's sons, Senator John Hollis Bankhead II and Speaker of the House of Representatives William Brockman Bankhead, as well as his grandson Representative Walter Will Bankhead.

Talulah Bankhead

By the way, for any old enough to remember hearing of sultry actress Talulah Bankhead, she was the niece of John Hollis Bankhead.

Marker depicting
Bankhead Highway

Many early auto trails had multiple routes, but the Bankhead Highway had several. It can be a bit confusing, A long highway with a famous past remains hidden in the Lone Star State. Although it has changed names many times, it is remembered as the "Route 66 of the South." It was originally designated the Bankhead Highway, and carried travelers from Washington, DC to San Diego, California. After the Lincoln Highway, it was the second largest highway project undertaken in the early twentieth century.

Once nicknamed the "Broadway of America," it was the first true interstate highway in the United States. It is the main street of many cities and towns, and to this day retains its original name in some areas. More famous roadways such as Route 66 have come and gone, and have been replaced by modern interstates. Yet it is still possible to traverse most of the original route of the Bankhead Highway in Texas.

This coast-to-coast highway idea began through a group of citizens and politicians, known as the Good Roads Movement. Officials in the automotive industry also were active in the movement, lobbying for a means to make their products more usable. Due to the poor condition of roads in most rural areas, long-distance travel across the U.S. was difficult, if not impossible for most Americans. Trains were always reliable, but did not have routes to every location where people did business. As automobiles became more affordable, the need for better roads came to the forefront of public awareness. The Good Roads Movement was embraced by most, especially farmers, who needed reliable roads to transport their goods to market.

It is generally accepted that the economic benefits deriving from the Bankhead and other such highway projects during the 1930s provided for many a buffer against the hardships of the Great Depression.

The effort spearheaded by Senator John Hollis Bankhead of Alabama brought the highway into reality when his bill was approved by the Senate and House of Representatives, then signed into law by President Woodrow Wilson as the Federal Aid Road Act of 1916. Although slowed by the country's involvement in World War I, the project gained momentum and sections of the highway began to appear across the states. Hundreds of miles of roadway were built in the 1920's, and many people were rescued from devastating poverty during the Depression by working on the Bankhead Highway. In North Central Texa, bricks manufactured in Thurber were used to pave parts of the highway. In fact, portions of those brick paved roads still survive in some area.

On the Texas segment, going from east to west, travelers would pass through Texarkana, Mt. Vernon, Terrell, Dallas, Fort Worth, Mineral Wells, Abilene, Midland, and El Paso. Commerce developed at all points in between, thanks to easy access provided by the highway. Businesses sprang up overnight to cater to the needs of millions of people who passed through on their way to somewhere. By the 1940's along the Bankhead, every town's main street stretched from sea to sea. The Bankhead Highway sign was the black letters "BH" on a white background with wide yellow stripes across the sign’s top and bottom.

Capacity issues eventually doomed the famous highway. Two-lane roads were not designed to handle the increased traffic in postwar America of the 1940's and 50's. With passage of the Interstate Highway Act of 1956, older highways soon became less traveled. As traffic decreased, so did the commerce it brought to many towns across the country. Businesses closed, and people moved to more populated areas with greater opportunities for careers and success. Such is progress.

The Bankhead Highway lives on, at least in many parts of the South. Recent interest in travel and roadside nostalgia has partly revived some thoroughfares, such as the Dixie Highway and Route 66. People gather to reminisce about times when things didn't move quite so fast. Others gaze at transportation museum exhibits and remember things as they once were. For the Bankhead Highway, it is business as usual. Renamed Highway 80 then U.S. 180 in most areas of Texas, it is still a thriving and necessary part of life, still a "Broadway" for many Texas towns.

Thanks to
Joe Defazio, http://freepages.history.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~unclejoe/tx/bankhead.html,
http://www.garlandhistorical.org/bankhead_narrative.html and Wikipedia.

Caroline Clemmons writes contemporary, historical and time travel romance set primarily in Texas. Contact her at caroline@carolineclemmons.com or check her personal blog at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com/

What if We Don't Question?

2012-02-19T23:06:00.005-06:00

by Jeanmarie Hamilton

The other night I stayed up late reading a book about a southwestern archaeological excavation which took place in the 1920s. The book is fascinating to me and brings up some questions, the main one being, what if we don't question?

The professor in charge of the excavation studied the Indians of the southwest in the four corners states of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. Based on his studies and field work in those four states, he made conclusions which he said could prove wrong with more study.

That's an important point that I believe is valuable to remember. Conclusions about things could be proved wrong with more study.

One of his conclusions about the extent of pre-pueblo life in the southwest was that there was little evidence to show that habitations were abundant below the southern border of New Mexico. However, within the last two decades, important discoveries of pre-pueblo habitations were made in and around the El Paso, Texas area.

For example, Firecracker Pueblo was excavated before a highway could be built over it in the northeast part of the city, and a habitation given the name of Keystone was discovered in the west part of the city during excavations for building. Both areas are pre-pueblo. http://www.texasbeyondhistory.net/firecracker/index.html
http://www.keystoneheritagepark.org/clubportal/ClubStatic.cfm?clubID=409&pubmenuoptID=4030

Evidence for pre-pueblo habitations includes corrugated pottery ware. I've seen an area beside an arroyo north of Fabens, Texas, east of El Paso, where shards of corrugated pottery ware had been left in a large, weather-worn pile. I've read about the discovery of other small habitations found along the Rio Grande River near El Paso. Because the area around El Paso is a dry desert, sand blows in the springtime during wind storms, and over time the sand builds up high enough to cover ancient dwellings. Flash floods may also cover evidence during the heavy summer rains in the El Paso area.

A recent program on TV talked about fossil finds of crocodiles never before found that were unearthed in the desert of Africa. This is all new information about animals that lived millions of years ago.

Did you know that there were Dire Wolves in Texas thousands of years ago? A web site about Kincaid Cave in the hill country near San Antonio tells of the ancient people who lived there and the animals they sought protection from. They found shelter and a place to live in the cave. Dire Wolves, present at that time, had larger bodies and shorter legs, in proportion, than today's Timber Wolves. They also had larger heads and teeth, and were obviously very different looking than today's wolves. http://www.texasbeyondhistory.net/kincaid/

In my contemporary Wolves of West Texas series I write about two different shapes of werewolves. One family is made up of werewolves much like the description of the werewolf in France that was described over a hundred years ago. The other family in this series who live in central Texas in cattle country are werewolves who are shaped like present day wolves. I love to let my imagination think up fanciful animals and beings for the fiction I write. Why not?

Guardian of His Love is about Derek Wolfson and Kelly Wolford. It's out now at Siren BookStrand. This is the third story in the Wolves of West Texas series. It's pure fictional romance for readers over 18 years of age. You can find it listed beside my Claire Adele author name.

Jeanmarie Hamilton
Join my newsletter through the link at http://www.JeanmarieHamilton.com
Guardian of His Love, out now at Siren BookStrand

Erastus "Deaf" Smith--a Texas Hero

2012-02-18T07:06:00.001-06:00

By Celia Yeary

ERASTUS "DEAF" SMITH

Some called him Johnny-on-the-Spot.

Erastus Smith was born in Dutchess County, New York in 1787. In 1798, his family moved near Natchez, Mississippi. In 1821, at age 34, he moved on to Texas for health reasons. His health apparently recovered except for a partial loss of hearing, hence the nickname "Deaf" Smith, pronounced "Deef Smith."

PRESENT DAY
PRESIDIO SAN ANTONIO de BEXAR
A FORT ON THE BANKS OF THE SAN ANTONIO RIVER

In 1822, he married a Tejana, Guadalupe Ruiz Duran, a widow with three children. The couple also had four children together. Smith settled his family in Presidio San Antonio de Bexar where he became accepted as a member of the Tejano (Latino-Texan) community.

Smith, also known as "El Sordo," (the deaf man) appeared in many areas of Mexican Texas and was in most significant actions related to development of the region both under Mexico and during evolution of independence. At San Antonio de Bexar, he introduced a fine stock of Muley cattle from Louisiana to the Texas area, where the Longhorn breed was previously popular.

SAN JACINTO MONUMENT
IN HOUSTON, TEXAS
SITE OF THE LAST BATTLE
FOR INDEPENDENCE FROM
MEXICO, LED BY SAM HOUSTON

Erastus “Deaf” Smith, became an ace scout, soldier, spy, and hero of the Texas Revolution. He also commanded Sam Houston’s scouts at the Battle of San Jacinto. As a scout, he set up the Battle of Concepcion and the Grass Fight, and he brought the Widow Dickenson and her baby back to safety from the fallen Alamo. When Sam Houston wanted Vince’s Bridge destroyed, so that neither his Texans nor Santa Anna’s troops could escape the field of San Jacinto, he called on Deaf Smith. Smith also briefly captained a company of Texas Rangers after the War.

Erastus Smith died in November of 1837, when the Republic of Texas was barely a year old. Sadly, he lost his eyesight, too, before he died. Smith became a folk hero in Texas.

Deaf Smith County borders New Mexico in the far-flung Panhandle of Texas. The county is one of about fifty descendant counties from Bexar County in South Texas (San Antonio.)

SPECIAL NOTE:

Sunday, February 19, is Texas Statehood Day. On this day in 1846, the Lone Star Flag came down, and the government passed to the new state of Texas.

DEAF SMITH COUNTY CORN SALAD (from the County Fair)

In a saucepan, combine: ¾ cup vinegar, ¾ cup corn oil, ¾ cup sugar, 1 teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon pepper. Bring to a boil—set aside to cool.

Prepare: 1 cup chopped green pepper, 1 cup chopped celery, ½ cup chopped green onions and tops. Place in a mixing bowl.

Drain: one 16-ounce can shoepeg corn, one 8-ounce can LaSeur peas, one 2-ounce jar diced pimentos.

Lightly mix the chopped and the drained vegetables. Pour the vinegar and oil mixture over vegetables and mix. Refrigerate several hours. The salad stays crisp for days.

(Disclaimer: Recipe from “Tastes and Tales of Texas,” but the same recipe can be found in numerous other cookbooks, and written on 3x5 recipe cards in many kitchens.)

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com
http://www.celiayeary.com

Some Black Magic, Western-style~ Tanya Hanson

2012-02-16T08:22:00.000-06:00

By Tanya Hanson
Not long ago, my hubby and I recently took a fantastic city slicker wagon train trip around the Tetons. Just as we started planning the trip, I started writing the eight-book Hearts Crossing Ranch series where wagon train adventures play a big part. In fact, one of the eight Martin siblings is a chuck cook on her family’s adventures. The fifth book in the series, Soul Food, stars Kelley Martin and will be out in the spring.

Of course, Kelley cooks many outdoor meals for those city slickers in cast-iron Dutch ovens. Any discussion of this hearty kettle starts by mentioning the method of casting with iron in dry sand molds. The technique’s exact origin isn’t known, but it most probably dates from the Dark Ages in Western Europe, refined later in both England and the Netherlands. The term “Dutch oven” may have come from the Netherlands connection and the Dutch traders who peddled them.

The “bulge” style pot –in my head I envision a witch’s cauldron— likely came over with the Pilgrims, but the 3-legged “bake” or “camp” oven appeared in the early 1700’s. Paul Revere (yes, he of the famous 1775 Midnight Ride) is said to have adapted the oven lid’s flanged lip to hold coals on top while the pot rested on a campfire. However, the oven was versatile and could be used on the hearth and for roasting in a stove’s oven.

Lewis and Clark’s Corp of Discovery (1803-05) carried a “large-size Dutch oven” across their entire route to the Pacific Northwest and home again. No self-respecting covered wagon or cattle drive traveled without the Dutch oven, and every Gold Rush mining camp had several, needing at least one for their historic sourdough bread. Miners lucky enough to have a burro or pack mule invariably had a Dutch oven tied on top.

By the mid 1870’s, every American household had some sort of cast iron cooking item, Dutch oven, skillet, or pot. Around 1920, casting iron reached its pinnacle in quality and quantity, but the invention of the electric stove in the 1890’s had already started a decline in interest of the Dutch ovens. However, one great casting company, Lodge, began operations in 1896 and continues to this day.

In recent years, the mystique of Dutch oven “black pot” cooking has made a comeback, not because of need but because of a resurgence in the outdoors, in nostalgia, and in love of history. Most Dutch oven recipes can be revised for stove top, oven or slow cooker as well.

Today’s Dutch oven chef needs a lid lifter, heavy special gloves, wooden utensils, briquettes, and a Dutch oven of 5 to 22 inches in diameter. The 12-incher is the most popular. The well-sealed lid allows heat and pressure to build while preserving the moisture of the food. Although there are many directions (e.g. “above-to-underneath” and “checkerboard pattern” among them) for actual food production, the general rule for the cook is to use twice as many briquettes as the diameter of the lid. Briquette placement on the lid and under the pot is crucial, as is rotating the lid and pot 90 degrees every fifteen minutes. Altitude, sun and even wind play important roles, too.

The premier organization for Dutch oven cooking, the International Dutch Oven Society (http://www.idos.com/) began in the Rocky mountains and now has 48 chapters in 27 states and 2 Canadian provinces. Each spring IDOS holds the World Championship Dutch Oven Cook-off.

Any Dutch oven stories or recipes to share today?

Cooking on the Western Trail

2012-02-14T00:32:00.003-06:00

by Anna Kathryn Lanier

Happy Valentine’s Day! I thought about doing something in honor of the day, but decided against it. Most other bloggers are doing such blogs, but really, truly I just didn’t feel like doing research on the history of Valentine’s Day. So instead I found an article on cooking on the western trail in THE OLD WEST: THE PIONEERS, from Time-Life Books. One of the articles includes recipes, so here’s a blog on cooking on the western trail.

Though the pioneer women were used to cooking, doing so on an open flame was not something they knew how to do. Cooking on the trail was not easy and they learned by trial and error. Helen Carpenter, a new bride making her way west on her honeymoon, wrote: “Although there is not much to cook, the difficulty and inconvenience in doing it amounts to a great deal—so by the time one has squatted around the fire and cooked bread and bacon, and made several dozen trips to and from the wagon—washed the dishes….and gotten things ready for an early breakfast, some of the others already have their night caps on—at any rate it is time to go to bed.” (1) She also comments, “It is hurry scurry to get breakfast and put away things that necessarily had to be pulled out the last night…nooning is barely long enough to eat a cold bite—and at night all the cooking utensils and provisions are to be gotten about the camp fire, and cooking enough to last until the next night.” (2)

THE OLD WEST says that pioneers built campfires twice a day (in the morning and at night) using what fuel they could find: buffalo chips, sagebrush or weeds. “Bread, bacon and coffee were staples of their diet, augmented by any random harvest they could reap en route: fresh buffalo meat, rabbit or sage hen.” Eliza Ann McAuley writes “In cutting a way for the road, the boys find thickets of wild currants. There are several varieties, the black, the red and the white. The boys cut the bushes, some of them ten feet long and loaded with ripe currants, which we strip off and make into jelly, currant wine and vinegar, dried currants and currant pie.” (3)

THE OLD WEST tells us that in the early years of emigration, the pioneers could find and kill buffalo or antelope along the trail, but “a more dependable supply of fresh meat was a herd of cattle led behind the wagon.” And the milk provided by the milk cow was highly prized. Not only was there a supply of fresh milk, but butter could be churned during the day’s journey by hanging pails on the jolting wagon; by day’s end, the butter was ready for the freshly baked bread.

The pioneer cook had to be resourceful and ingenious when it came to cooking. She would have to improvise when supplies ran short, because no matter how well one packed the wagon, supplies did not always last as planned. For example, bacon if not protected from the heat of the plains would go bad. It was standard for bacon to be packed in a barrel of bran to insulate it. Eggs were similarly packed in corn meal to keep them from breaking, but also because they’d be used to make bread.

The women usually cooked breakfast and dinner. Lunch would have been ‘leftovers,’ often baked beans or stew with bread or biscuits from the night before. Below are a few recipes from common ‘trail’ foods. Thankfully, THE OLD WEST updated the recipes for us.

Soda Bread:

To make dough, mix 1 teaspoon of baking soda with 1 cup warm water, add 2¼ cups flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Knead well. The dough may be used at once or allowed to rise overnight in a warm place. In either case, flatten dough to a thickness of 1 inch. Place on a greased cookie sheet and bake in a 400° oven for 25 minutes.

Dried Apple Pie:

Soak 2 cups of dried apples in water overnight. Drain off water and mix apples with ½ cup sugar and 1 teaspoon each of allspice and cinnamon. Line an 8-inch pie pan with a crust, and add the apple mixture. Dot with 3 tablespoons butter and cover with a second pie crust. Make a few slashes in the top for ventilation and bake in a 350° oven for about 1 hour or until crust is golden brown.

And just for fun – Buffalo Jerky

Slice buffalo meat along the grain into strips 1/8-inch thick, ½-inch wide and 2 to 3 inches long. Hang them on a rack in a pan and bake at 200° until dry. To prepare outside, suspend them over a fire or drape them on bushes to dry in the sun.

Other references:

(1) WOMEN’S DIARES OF THE WESTWARD JOURNEY by Lillian Schlissel

(2) PLAINS WOMEN: Women in the American West by Paula Bartley and Cathy Loxton

(3) COVERED WAGON WOMEN: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, 1852 by Kenneth L. Holmes

Anna Kathryn Lanier
www.aklanier.com http://annakathrynlanier.blogspot.com/

Never let your memories be greater than your dreams. ~Doug Ivester

Valentine Cards by Paty Jager

2012-02-12T00:01:00.000-06:00

According to a website on Valentine history the first valentineswere either sung or verbalized in theMiddle Ages. In the 1400’s the first written Valentine was recorded and can befound in the British museum. It was written romantic sentiments to Charles,Duke of Orleans’s wife while he was detained in prison.

A booklet known as the “writer” came to America in the 1700’s.This was a booklet of poems and verses that could be copied onto fancy paper tomake valentines for a loved one. Some would contain return messages that the “sweetheart”or woman would return to the man.

Paper valentines became popular in the early 1800’s inEngland. This is when they weremanufactured in numbers and sold. Esther Howland, an artist and printer, began making American Valentines in 1850. A popular valentine in America in 1860 wasthe “ Daguerreotype” . This was a card with a tintype likeness in the centersurrounded by a wreath. During the Civil War, cards with flaps like tents werepopular with a soldier behind the flaps.

In the Victorian Era, when the postage to send a letter wasa penny, more valentines were sent by mail. They had previously been handdelivered.

I have a short flash fiction Valentine story at http://romancefromthegenre-istas.blogspot.com/I did the above research to write the 1500 word flash fiction short storytitled Heart of Gold.

www.patyjager.net

www.patyjager.blogspot.com

GHOSTS OF PALO DURO CANYON

2012-02-10T00:11:00.035-06:00

By Award-winning author, Terry Spear

www.facebook.com/terry.spear

Night Sky

Imagine camping out in the dark of night with the cold autumn air surrounding you as you attempt to doze off in an Army sleeping bag, where the night goes on forever, the black sky covered in sparkling stars as far as the eye can see. There are no artificial lights, no city, or campfires, or lights from campers, only what God created. And it’s vast and beautiful and awe-inspiring.

But the ground is covered in rocks. Every inch. And I was thinking rattlesnakes and scorpions seek warmth when it’s that cold out. A body in a sleeping bag seemed a nice place for the poisonous critters to curl up.

I’m cold natured and I am a light sleeper, so while all the other cadets in our West Texas A&M AROTC program were sleeping to be ready for a day of orienteering (finding points on a map using a compass) before we had to go to camp the next summer, I was awake. Pushing rocks out from under my sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable. Trying to get warm. Annoyed everyone else could sleep like a bunch of logs. I knew the next day I’d have a devil of a time orienteering if I didn’t get any sleep that night.

Some hours passed and I finally closed my eyes, attempting to force sleep. And then I heard them. Wild mustangs headed straight for us. They snorted, whinnying and neighing and stampeded, pounding the ground, headed in our direction.
I was terrified.

I knew that herd animals would run straight through something like our camp without diverting out of our way. When I was a kid, we slept on a boat while our friends slept on an island at a California lake and deer ran through their big tent. Screams and shouting and then laughter resounded. The deer had not run around the tent, but straight through it, collapsing it on top of our friends.

No one was injured then, but I figured horses were heavier, they sounded like tons of them, and so I tried to wake my sister sleeping next to me. She grumbled at me to go to sleep.

So I lay back down, buried in my blanket, listening to the horses growing nearer. But one thing that seemed in our favor, I didn’t FEEL the ground shake. So I assumed they had to be some distance off, even though they sounded so close. And then they veered off and faded into the distance. I still didn’t sleep, afraid they’d return, but they didn’t.

The next morning, I asked my cadre and fellow cadets if anyone heard the horses. Did they have wild mustangs in the area? One of the cadre said it was very likely, but no one had heard a thing. Not surprising since everyone was asleep.

Palo Duro Canyon
near Amarillo, Texas

Years later, I wanted to write an article about the wild mustangs of Palo Duro Canyon, and discovered there were no articles about them, but several accounts of people having heard the horses—they were ghosts of the past.

When the US Cavalry was trying to stop the Indians from fighting, several tribes had gathered in the Palo Duro Canyon to make a last stand. The only way the Army could stop them was to destroy the horses. An unmounted pony soldier couldn’t flee to fight another day. And so the Cavalry drove the horses off the cliffs. That’s what I heard that night. The horses, a whisper of the past.

Stagecoach Inn at Salado, Texas

I live in the heart of Texas now, though I lived in Amarillo back then, and I love the history of the west. I’m originally from California, so I also loved the stories of the Gold Rush and the settling of the west. But here, I’d visit a town called Salado. It’s a quaint town where they once had a stagecoach run. And every time I’d visit there with my mother, I would wonder what it would have been like in the 1870s.

Some of the buildings are haunted. What if the Stagecoach Inn had been? What if the heroine had a connection there? And she stayed in the same room after a harrowing divorce from her husband? And what if she woke up to a man in her bed, not her husband, and she’s not even in her own time?

Yep. That’s what happened in A GHOST OF A CHANCE AT LOVE. How can something so simple as taking a breather from the place she lives to a place she loves become so…complicated? But not only complicated. Dangerous.

My question to you is if you were stuck back in time, and the man was handsome, chivalrous, and was falling in love with you, would you choose to stay back in his time? What if you had no choice? But staying there wasn’t an option either? Poor Lisa, she’s in one pickle of a mess.

Thanks so much to Sweethearts of the West for having me here today!

"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality."

Award-winning author Terry Spear is the author of urban fantasy romances, medieval Highland romances, and a western historical time travel romance. She received Publishers Weekly's Best Book of the Year in 2008 for HEART OF THE WOLF. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry is a librarian by day. She lives in Crawford, Texas.

www.terryspear.com
www.myspace.com/terryspear
http://terry-spear.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/#!/TerrySpear

Buy link for A GHOST OF A CHANCE AT LOVE is http://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Chance-Love-ebook/dp/B005LHO9U4

WYATT EARP & JOSIE MARCUS: A FIFTY-YEAR WILD WEST AFFAIR

2012-02-08T04:00:00.012-06:00

WYATT EARP & JOSIE MARCUS: A FIFTY-YEAR WILD WEST AFFAIR

BY VIRGINIA CAMPBELL

When legendary lawman Wyatt Earp first met Josephine Marcus, she was engaged to Johnny Behan, who was also a lawman and Earp's political rival in Tombstone, Arizona. When Behan betrayed Josie with another woman, she ended their relationship and later became involved with Wyatt. The affair with Josie, whom Wyatt called "Sadie", ended his own common law marriage. His wife, Mattie, had struggled with opium addiction and later died of an overdose. Josie was an actress, singer, and dancer who sometimes entertained the crowd while Wyatt played cards in the famous Bird Cage Theatre, which opened its doors on December 25, 1881. For the next eight years those doors would never close, operating 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

The events of October, 1881 would forever change the lives of the Earps and those in their immediate circle. Wyatt was a local lawman at the time in Tombstone and his biggest challenge was the Clanton family, who ran a rustling empire under the protection of Johnny Behan. The tense conflicts between the Clantons and the Earps violently erupted at the OK Corral, where a deadly shootout occurred. In less than one minute, Frank and Tom McLowery along with Bill Clanton were killed and 3 of Earp's men -- Virgil and Morgan Earp and Doc Holliday were wounded. Following the shootout, Earp swore a vendetta after his brother Morgan was killed. Once the hunter of the lawless, Wyatt himself was now was on the wrong side of the law. Josie Marcus returned to her home area of San Francisco to wait for word from Wyatt.

In 1882, Wyatt and his "Sadie" were reunited. Wyatt and Josephine stayed together another 48 years until Wyatt's death in 1929. Josie died fifteen years later, and they are buried side by side at the Hills of Eternity Cemetery in Colma, California. During their married years, Wyatt and Josephine moved frequently around the American West, following gold, silver, and copper mining, until they settled in Southern California. There, they invested in real estate and racehorses, wrote Wyatt's autobiography, and drafted a screenplay based on his exploits. Wyatt served as a After Wyatt's death, Josephine contributed to published and film portrayals of Wyatt's life, helping to establish an enduring American legend. Her "fact or fiction" memoir, I Married Wyatt Earp , later became the basis for film and stage productions.

Wyatt Earp is someone who vividly illustrates the radical changes to industry and social mores in the America of the late 1800s and early 20th century. If you are interested in Western lore, his life is more amazing than any fictional law and order tale! After his well-documented career as a "peace-keeper" ended, Earp eventually moved to Hollywood, where he met several famous and "soon to be famous actors" on the sets of various movies. On the set of one movie, he met a young extra and prop man who would eventually become John Wayne. Wayne later stated that he based his image of the Western lawman on his conversations with Earp. In the early 1920s, Earp served as deputy sheriff in a mostly ceremonial position in San Bernardino County, California. His 80 year life-span covered amazing changes in industry and technology, social reform and entertainment.

The movie Tombstone, is a terrific film and features an amazing, revelatory performance by Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp. The stellar supporting cast includes Dana Delaney as Josie Marcus, Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday, Bill Paxton as Morgan Earp, and (the love of my life) Sam Elliott as Virgil Earp.

In addition to depicting the closeness of the Earp family, and the violent and turbulent times of the Old West, the film also highlights the romance between Wyatt and Josie, and the enduring friendship of Wyatt and Doc Holliday.

I WISH YOU ALL A VERY HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR OWN UNIQUE VALENTINE'S DAY STORIES. SINCE JOSIE WAS AN ACTRESS, DANCER, AND SINGER WHO CAPTURED WYATT'S HEART, I HOPE YOU WILL ENJOY THESE "ENTERTAINING" RECIPES!

"Love Me Tender" Chocolate Pudding Cake

1 two layer chocolate cake mix
3 oz. pkg. instant chocolate pudding mix
1/8 tsp. cinnamon
4 eggs
1 cup water
2 cups sour cream
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup milk chocolate chips

Spray a 4 quart crockpot with non-stick cooking spray and set aside. In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, pudding mix and cinnamon. In a medium bowl, beat the eggs with the water, then add the sour cream, oil, and vanilla. Beat until smooth. Add to the dry ingredients and beat well. Stir in the chocolate chips. Pour into crockpot. Cover slow cooker and cook on low for 6-8 hours, until top springs back when touched very lightly with finger. 8-10 servings. If desired, top each serving with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

"It's Just Impossible" Tropical Coconut Pie

4 large eggs
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup rum
2 tbsp. butter, softened
1 (15 oz.) can cream of coconut
1 (8 oz.) can crushed pineapple in juice, well drained
1 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cups baking mix (biscuit mix)
1 cup flaked coconut

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a deep dish 10 inch pie plate. In a large bowl, beat all ingredients together (except last cup of coconut) until well blended. Pour into greased pie plate. Sprinkle with remaining coconut. Bake until knife inserted in center comes out clean, 40-45 minutes.

"Orange You Special?" Chocolate Chip Cheesecake

2 (8 oz.) pkg. cream cheese, softened
2/3 c. sugar
3 T. orange liqueur (such as Cointreau or Grand Marnier)
2 eggs
1 c. mini semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided
1 ready-to-use chocolate cookie crumb pie crust

For Garnish:
Whipped cream
Chocolate sprinkles

Directions:

Mix cream cheese, sugar and orange liqueur at medium speed with electric mixer until well blended. Add eggs; mix until blended. Stir in 1/2 cup of the chips. Pour into crust. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 c. chips. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes or until center is almost set. Cool. Refrigerate three hours or overnight. Garnish with thick, sweet whipped cream topped by chocolate sprinkles.

"My Cherry Amour" Cocktails for Two

4 oz black cherry vodka
1/2 oz grenadine
dash of lemon juice
maraschino cherries for garnish

Pour liquid ingredients into a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake well. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. If desired, serve over ice in an old-fashioned drink glass. Garnish with maraschino cherries.

"You're The Cream In My Coffee" Java Dream

1 Part Coffee Liqueur, 1 Part Irish Cream Liqueur, 2 Parts Vodka, 2 Parts Whole Milk or Cream, ice cubes.

Method: Pour the Coffee Liqueur, Irish Cream Liqueur, and Vodka into a short drink glass half-filled with ice. Top with cream or whole milk. Stir and serve.

"Pizza My Heart" Appealing Appetizer

1 (8 ounce) package refrigerated crescent rolls
1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (1 ounce) package Ranch-style dressing mix
2 carrots, shredded
1/2 cup chopped red bell peppers
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
1/2 cup fresh broccoli, chopped
1/2 cup chopped green onions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Roll out crescent rolls onto a large non-stick baking sheet. Stretch and flatten to form a single rectangular shape on the baking sheet. Bake 11 to 13 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden brown. Allow to cool. Place cream cheese in a medium bowl. Mix cream cheese with 1/2 of the ranch dressing mix. Adjust the amount of dressing mix to taste. Spread the mixture over the cooled crust. Arrange carrots, red bell pepper, broccoli and green onions on top. Chill in the refrigerator approximately 1 hour. Cut into bite-size squares to serve.

"Fool For Your Love" Berry Delicious Treat

4 cups strawberries or 3 cups blackberries, blueberries, or raspberries
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. orange or berry liqueur
1 tsp. lemon juice
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Gently rinse berries. Hull strawberries if using. Set aside a few berries for garnish, if you like. In a medium bowl gently toss berries with sugar, liqueur, and lemon juice. Let sit for 20 min. Put berry mixture in a blender or food processor and whirl until smooth or simply use a potato masher to mash them a bit. Set aside. In a large bowl beat cream until soft peaks form. Gently fold berry mixture into cream until evenly distributed. Spoon into clear serving dishes (wine glasses work well), top with reserved berries for garnish, if you like, and serve immediately or keep chilled up to 1 hour.

"Quiche Me, My Darling" Savory Sweetheart Pie

1 small ripe tomato, sliced thin
1 (3 ounce) can real bacon bits
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 (9 inch) deep dish frozen pie crust
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup half-and-half cream

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Cover bottom of unthawed pie crust with tomato slices. In a medium bowl, mix the bacon, onions, and both cheeses. Pour this mixture over tomato slices in pie crust. Mix the eggs and half and half in a bowl. Pour the egg mixture over the cheese mixture. Bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) and bake for an additional 35 minutes, until top of quiche begins to turn brown.

"Love Bites" Steak Salad

2 sirloin steaks, cooked medium well, cooled and sliced in thin strips (cut across grain)
2 tomatoes, cut in wedges
1 green pepper, cut in strips
1 c. sliced celery
1/3 c. sliced green onion
1/3 c. sliced fresh mushrooms
4 c. mixed greens, such as Romaine, leaf lettuce, or fresh spinach leaves

Marinade:
1/2 c. teriyaki sauce
1/3 c. dry sherry
1/3 c. salad oil
3 tbsp. white vinegar
1/2 tsp. ground ginger

In a large bowl, combine steak, tomatoes, green pepper, celery, onion and mushrooms. In a screw top jar combine ingredients for marinade and shake well. Pour over beef mixture. Toss to coat well. Cover and refrigerate 2-3 hours. Drain, reserving marinade. To serve, place a handful of greens on each serving plate. Top with about one cup of steak mixture. Pass reserved marinade for dressing. 6 servings.

"Wild Thing" Cheese & Herb Monkey Bread

1 package (24 count) frozen dinner rolls, thawed
1/4 cup melted butter or margarine
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon each of dried Rosemary, Sage, Basil, Thyme
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder

Grease a fluted tube bundt pan. Combine cheese with herbs and garlic powder. Dip each piece of roll dough in melted butter and roll in cheese/herb mixture to coat. Place coated pieces of dough evenly in pan. Let rise until double in size. Bake in a preheated 350° oven for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown and top of bread sounds hollow when tapped. Remove from oven and pan to cool on wire rack.

"Love To Love You, Baby" Wicked Little Pasta Dinner

A very simple, sensual shrimp and pasta dish with real butter, parmesan cheese and garlic. The best pasta to use is spaghetti or linguine, so that you can twirl the long noodles in the buttery, garlicky cheese.

Guilty Pasta:

Boil one pound of spaghetti or linguine until "al dente" or almost done. Drain pasta well, return to pot and cover to keep warm. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven, melt together over low heat 1 stick of real butter and 1/2 cup of olive oil. Toss in one pound cleaned, peeled, deveined medium shrimp and four smashed, peeled, chopped garlic cloves (or sprinkle liberally with California-style garlic salt, which contains dried parsley). Cook just until shrimp is nicely pink and done, stirring occasionally. Add cooked pasta and combine until mixed well and pasta is coated with butter. Stir in two cups grated Parmesan cheese and mix well. If desired, add a touch of freshly grated black pepper. Serve immediately. Accompany pasta dish with a basic romaine, tomato, onion salad topped with a vinaigrette dressing, real bacon and chunky croutons. Add some hot, fresh Italian or French bread to wipe the plates! Serve with a very well-chilled white or blush wine. Later, much later, a dessert sampler tray with fruit, cheesecake, and lots of assorted wicked chocolates. Served with hot, rich coffee. Much, much later....eat the leftovers!!!

Isaac Charles Parker

2012-02-06T00:30:00.005-06:00

By Kathy Otten
When most historical western fans see the name Isaac Parker they immediately know him as Judge Parker, the Hanging Judge of Fort Smith, Arkansas. While on the bench Judge Parker was stern, inflexible and impartial. Off the bench he was a different man.

Born in Belmont County, Ohio on October 15, 1838, Isaac (Ike) Parker was educated in local schools and at 17, he decided to study law. He passed his bar exam in 1859 and moved to St. Joseph, MO to practice law. During this time he met a young Catholic girl, Mary O'Toole. They married on December 12, 1861.

Parker was considered to be a handsome man, over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes. He was about two hundred pounds with a straight back and square jaw. He spoke with a deep voice and an authoritative manner. He sported a tawny moustache and goatee.

He was elected city attorney and in 1868 he was made judge of the Twelfth Judical Circut of Missouri. Two years later he became a member of Congress from the sixth Missouri District.

During two terms he sponsored legislation that would have allowed women the right to vote and hold public office in the United States Territories. He assisted veterans in getting their pensions. He also served as a member of the House Committee on Indian Affairs. He sponsored measures to give economic aid to the Indians causing is collegues to name him, "The Indians' Best Friend."

In 1875, President Ulysses S. Grant appointed him as the federal judge for the Western District of Arkansas, with full jurisdiction over 74,000 miles of Indian Territory.

Despite his inexhaustible schedule in the courtroom, he was considered an excellent host. He served on the Board of Education, pushing to establish a school for black children. People found him approachable and he often offered advice when asked. He kept candy in his pockets and gave it to children on the street. To his wife and two sons, Charles and James, he was an affectionate and indulgent husband and father.

Ironically, Parker actually believed in the abolition of the death penalty, "...provided," he said, "that there is a certainty of punishment, whatever that punishment may be. In the uncertainty of punishment following a crime, lies the weakness of our halting justice."

Though few people knew, Parker suffered from diabetes and in 1896 Parker passed away from Bright's disease. On his deathbed he said, "I never hanged a man. It was the law."

The Four Sacred Peaks of the Dinetah

2012-02-04T00:39:00.001-06:00

by Amber Leigh Williams

The Navaho Reservation, better known as Navaho Nation,located in Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah is the largest Indian Reservation inthe United States. To the Navaho themselves, this homeland is called theDinetah and once encompassed much of the American West, from northeasternArizona to southwestern Colorado, southeastern Utah, and northwestern Mexico.Four sacred mountain peaks mark the Dinetah and the territory the Navaho peopleonce dominated. These peaks became entrenched in Navaho geography with one peakrepresenting one of the four cardinal directions – north, south, east, and west.The mountains also became entrenched in Navaho mythology and, to this day, areconsidered sacred. The Navaho believed that these four sacred mountains weremodeled after mountains of the Fourth World and built by First Man from thesoil of that world.

The mountain of the north, Mount Hesperus, is located in theLa Plata Mountains of Colorado. A dark, prominent peak, it is the highestsummit in the La Plata Mountains at 13,232 feet. Because it is said to be hometo the gemstone, jet, and is associated with the color black, it has also beencalled Obsidian Mountain. To the Navaho, it is Dibé Nitsaa, or “Big Mountain Sheep.”

The Sacred Mountain of the East, Mount Blanca, can be foundin San Luis Valley, Colorado, near Alamosa. It is the highest peak of the SierraBlanca Massif of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the eighth highest peak in theUnited States and the fourth highest in the Rocky Mountains. Like MountHesperus, it is a prominent peak that reaches up to 14,345 feet. Mount Blancais made up of pre-Cambrian granite, which is 1.8 billion years old. The Navahocall it Tsisnaasjini', or “Dawn orWhite Shell Mountain” because it is associated with the color white. The firstrecorded summit of Mount Blanca took place in 1874, but when the climbersreached the top they discovered a structure believed to be built by the Ute.

To the south of the Dinetah, you’ll find Mount Taylor, locatedin northwest New Mexico, the highest point of the San Mateo Mountains as wellas the Cibola National Forest. Mount Taylor crests far above the New Mexicandesert and is cloaked mostly in forest. It once provided timber for localpueblos and, though currently named for President Zachary Taylor, was known bythe Spanish as Cebolleta. However, tothe Navaho, it is Tsoodzil, “BlueBead” or “Turquoise Mountain” because of its blue hue and cone-like shape. Accordingto mythology, Black God, Turquoise Boy, and Turquoise Girl live on MountTaylor. A popular, religious site for Native American people, it is alsoworshipped by the Acoma, the Laguna, and the Zuni. Evidence shows that MountTaylor was once anywhere from 16,000 to 25,000 feet high, but due to volcaniceruptions from 3.3 to 1.5 million years ago similar to Mount Saint Helens, ithas dwindled down to a mere 11,305 feet and has been mined for its copiousamounts of uranium-vanadium. The mining of Mount Taylor slowed considerably in2008 when the Navaho, Acoma, Laguna, Zuni and Hopi people cried out in protest.Since, it has been added to the list of America’s Most Endangered Places and isprotected by the National Trust for Historic Preservation.

Finally, the westernboundary of the Dinetah is the San Francisco Peaks in the Coconino NationalForest near Flagstaff, Arizona. The highest summit of the San Francisco Peaksis Humphreys Peak at 12,633 feet, the tallest site in the state of Arizona. Itis popular for skiers due to the location of the Arizona Snowbowl on Humphreys’western slope, a subject of controversy amongst Native Americans andenvironmentalists. Like Mount Taylor, it was once an active volcano site – aneroded stratovolcano – and a religious site for various Native American tribesincluding the Navaho, the Havasupai, the Hopi, and the Zuni. It is said to contain abalone and is known to the Navahoas Doko'oosliid, or “Abalone ShellMountain.”

Though some have been tampered by controversy, these foursacred peaks were once the four points of the Navaho’s traditional homeland. Theymapped what the Navaho believed was the land the Creator placed their peopleon. To this day, they are part of the belief system of the Navaho people (and anumber of other Native American tribes), and create the harmony between natureand a higher power so central to the Navaho Nation. Their beauty and majestyhave been preserved as well as eroded by time, but the people still believe intheir mystical energy to this day.

Eilley Orrum - The Lady of the Mansion

2012-02-02T00:03:00.000-06:00

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

As a young girl, Allison "Eilley" Orrum realized she was destined for a life of success and riches. She knew it as she ran over the grassy moors and climbed the craggy ridges of her homeland in the Highlands of Scotland. Eilley had a rare gift: with the help of a glass sphere she called a peep-stone, she could see the future. Eilley, however, saw only a part of the things to come. Her famous crystal ball showed a vast fortune and a mansion. It did not reveal the personal grief she would encounter.

Born in Scotland in 1826, Eilley was a high-spirited young woman who was filled with ambition and a burning desire to achieve fame and fortune. Unfortunately, Scotland, in the 1800s had little to offer, so in order to escape, Eilley converted to Mormonism. She gave up her traditional Presbyterian faith and, with several hundred converts, sailed for America. The large group settled in the Mormon colony at Nauvoo, Illinois in 1843.

She married an elder of the church for the prestige, but bore him no children. They settled in Salt Lake City, where her marriage ended when her husband wanted to practice polygamy. Eilley secured a divorce and found employment at a trading store. While working there, a customer offered to sell a sphere of glass the size of a duck egg that he said was a crystal ball. Eilley immediately recognized the sphere as a peep-stone, similar to the one she had used in Scotland.

Peering into the mystical stone, she saw a vision of a green valley with a blue lake surrounded by large mountains. She knew this was the special place where her fame and fortune would be found. She married a farmer and they moved to a new colony of Mormons in the Carson Valley, Nevada. Instead of a sparkling lake, they found a sluggish creek and barren mountainous land. Disappointed, Eilley urged her easy-going husband to move on. Several days later they found her valley, which was exactly as she'd seen in her peep-stone with a beautiful lake and landscape. She envisioned a mansion with many rooms, gardens and flowing fountains. She also saw happy children. They marked off half the section of land and together built a cabin. The only thing missing was money and her husband's ambition to earn it.

Before winter set in, they left their homestead and moved to Gold Hill, a new town in Nevada that had just started to grow. She saw pieces of gold, miners, and wagons in her peep-stone. Eilley felt there was money to be made in Gold Hill, which at the time was a community of tents and saloons. They built a cabin and she started taking in boarders. The venture turned into a success until her husband was called back to Salt Lake City. He left immediately with their wagons and livestock. She stayed alone in a lawless town with only her peep-stone and herself to depend on. She was 32 years old...and childless.

She took in laundry as well as boarders. Her rule was that she would cook, wash, and care for the miners, but her bed was hers alone. She divorced her husband and the boarding house flourished, but she was not getting rich. One of the miners offered her his claim for an unpaid bill and Eilley accepted. The claim beside it belonged to Lemuel Sanford ”Sandy” Bowers, a young teamster who had recently arrived in Gold Hill. He asked her to share her life with him as well as her claim. He was 26, eight years younger than Eilley.

When they returned from their honeymoon, they were wealthy. The black streaks of sand Eilley had seen in her peep-stone were silver and together their claims made them two of the richest millionaires in Gold Hill. The couple, one illiterate and the other with illusions of grandeur, went on a European shopping trip to fill the mansion Eilley had built on the site of her old homestead in the Washoe Valley. On their way home the mother of a new infant died. They adopted the little girl and named her Margaret Persia.

After they returned home, Eilley stayed at the mansion and raised Margaret while Sandy returned to the mines. It was the happiest time of Eilley's life. She had everything she'd seen in the peep-stone. Unfortunately, her happiness didn't last. Her husband died of Silicosis, also called miner's disease. The Silver of the Comstock died out in 1867, and the business deals in which Sandy had been involved had been poorly handled. She tried to turn the mansion into a hotel. While she was expanding the mansion, she sent her daughter to Reno to live with friends. Margaret became ill and died. In 1875 Eilley lost the mansion by default and all the belongings were auctioned off.

Eilley was penniless. She started telling fortunes with the aid of her crystal ball and became known as the ”Washoe Seeress." Eventually the visions in her peep-stone vanished, and in 1903, at the age of 77, she died and was buried next to her husband and child overlooking her mansion.

Written by Anne Seagraves in the Women of the Sierra.

WHERE THE PAST MEETS THE PRESENT: LOG CABIN VILLAGE, FORT WORTH, TEXAS

2012-01-30T15:37:00.024-06:00

By Ashley Kath-Bilsky

"Home is the nicest word there is." ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

Like many little girls, I loved the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. In fact, the Little House books were my first introduction to historical literature, and instilled within me a curiosity and lifelong fascination for how people lived in the past.

I still gravitate toward historical fiction and non-fiction, both as a reader and writer. And whenever I get the chance, I love to visit places where I can actually see firsthand how people lived long ago. Since childhood, I have visited many historical sites. My travels have taken me from Revolutionary War battlefields in New England to a haunting windswept battlefield east of Inverness, Scotland called Culloden Moor.

From famous landmark American homes like Monticello and Mount Vernon in Virginia, to breathtaking castles in Scotland and England. I have gazed in wonder at intricate lime wood carvings by Grinling Gibbons at Hampton Court Palace (see below), and warmed my hands by a peat fire in a stone Crofters cottage in the western highlands.
But there is nothing that touches my heart quite as deeply as a simple, hand-hewn log cabin.

Don’t get me wrong, I love architecture and admire all the work and extraordinary talent that has contributed to buildings like Hampton Court Palace or the innovative genius of Thomas Jefferson in designing Monticello. But there is something about seeing a log cabin that has been preserved from the mid-1800s that I cannot help but admire. And one of my favorite places to visit (and learn about) log cabins is in Fort Worth, Texas.

Nestled in a beautiful wooded area off University Boulevard is a wonderful collection of log cabin homes which make up a Living History Museum called The Log Cabin Village. Although owned and operated by the City of Fort Worth since 1965, it was a group of residents in the 1950s who had the foresight to form the Pioneer Texas Heritage Committee and preserve some 19th century log cabins before they were lost forever.

An initial six buildings were acquired from the North Texas area and painstakingly relocated to the site in Fort Worth. They were not designed by famous British architects like Sir Christopher Wren (1632-1723) and John Nash (1752-1835). There were not skilled craftsmen employed and paid to do the labor. They were built by men often alone in the wilderness, like Charles Ingalls, who first cleared the land, then went about chopping down trees and cutting logs that were on average 1-2 feet longer than the desired length needed for the structure. The logs were then dragged or rolled to the building site.

THE BASICS

When you consider that the homes at Log Cabin Village were all constructed around the 1850s, you can readily understand how difficult it must have been to not only have the supplies you needed, but the time it took to construct your home – usually very quickly. One would think that chopping down enough trees and cutting logs was the most difficult part. But a great deal more went into building a cabin that would provide safety and shelter for your family.

Hewing the logs (converting a round log into a square timber), came next and could be quite time-consuming – especially for one man. A hewing axe or broadaxes was used. Basically, the axe had one side that was flat and the other side of the axe was beveled. [See picture below] Hewing the logs created a tighter fit, as well as a more polished finished with flat wall surfaces.

Once the smoothing or hewing was done, great care then had to be taken in notching the logs. Suffice to say that the weight of the cabin rested on its four corners, and the weight-bearing stability of those corners depended on how well corner notches were made. However, it was important that each log did not rest ‘flush’ against the other. They had to be separated from each other by a space of an inch or more called a chink. The next step was then to fill in that space with chinking, to protect against cold, wind, rain, and snow.

Mud, clay, lime, pieces of split wood, shingles, and stones were used as chinking. Red clay was often used in North Central Texas. Hilly areas also used small rock fragments which were prevalent. In addition, since limestone was available in most of North Central Texas, a lime plaster was applied as a protective coating over the chinking.

Due to inclement weather or the need to build a shelter as soon as possible, many log cabins did not have a traditional stone foundation. Roofing consisted of a ridgepole with split logs or wooden boards extending down to the top of the cabin walls. To protect against rot and leaking, everything from sod, bark, earth, clay, and even leather were used. However, the best thing to use were shingles, which usually had to be specially ordered or were perhaps available for purchase at a fort or a general store – if you were lucky enough to live near a town.

Seeing the American frontier craftsmanship that went into the building of the log cabins at The Log Cabin Village is fascinating, but you also cannot distance yourself from the fact that each cabin was someone’s home—a home where they lived, raised children, struggled to survive, and often died. Some of the people who lived in these homes were important men in the history of Texas, men like Isaac Parker.

Isaac Parker was a pioneer, soldier and lawmaker who served in Elisha Camp’s Company in 1836. He was also a member of Congress for the Republic of Texas from 1839-1845, a State senator, and a lifelong friend of Sam Houston. In fact, Parker County in Texas is named in his honor.

The Parker cabin was built around 1848, making it the oldest structure in Tarrant County. Its design is that of a double-log room construction connected by a covered breezeway (often called a dog trot). A large fireplace was located in each of the two log rooms.

PARKER CABIN

In addition to living in this two-room log cabin with his wife and children, Isaac brought his niece, Cynthia Ann Parker (and her infant daughter named Topsannah) here in 1860, after they were discovered by Texas Rangers. Unfortunately, Cynthia Ann did not want to be rescued.

For those who are not familiar with the story of Cynthia Ann Parker, she was captured during a Comanche attack in 1836 when she was 9 years old. Although beaten and mistreated as a slave, in time, she would become the beloved wife of Peta Nocona, a Comanche chief. The story of Cynthia Ann Parker is a tragic one. Having spent 24 years with the Comanche, she now considered them her people, and longed to be reunited with her husband, Peta Nocona, and their two sons, Pecos and Quanah Parker. When her baby daughter died of pneumonia, Cynthia Ann—giving up hope she would ever see her sons again—starved herself to death. However, her son, Quanah, would become the last great chief of the Comanche.

TOMPKINS CABIN
Built circa 1853, the Tompkins Cabin is a one-room log house with a loft. Its owner, John Baptist Tompkins was born in Virginia on 21 October 1820, and arrived in Texas with his wife, Sarah, in late 1857. Originally located in Parker County, the cabin was situated on fertile land, and Tompkins was a progressive farmer who used innovative crop rotation methods as well as experiments with various seeds. His primary crops were wheat, oats, and hay. And his apple, pear, and plum trees were believed to make up the finest fruit orchard in the area.

SHAW CABIN & GRIST MILL

Although not originally a grist mill, the Shaw Cabin is one of the few working grist mills in Texas today. I LOVE the fact you can visit this Grist Mill and purchase fresh, warm cornmeal just like the way it was milled in the 19th century.

The cabin itself was built around 1854, but the milling equipment (pictured below) dates back to the mid 1860s. The equipment came from a saw mill located in Moline, Texas, and had been in continuous use for over 70 years until it stopped working in 1930. In 1970, the City of Fort Worth purchased and installed it into the Shaw cabin.

As for the owner of this cabin, Thomas J. Shaw was originally from Tennessee. At age 19 in 1838, he made the first of many trips to the western frontier where he assisted troops in what is known as the “Trail of Tears”; the forced relocation of the Cherokee nation to the Oklahoma territory. He eventually returned to Tennessee.

But in 1851, a now married Shaw moved to Texas, first settling in Paris then moving to Fort Smith, Arkansas. When a group of families traveled through Fort Smith on their way to Texas in 1845, Shaw and his family joined them. The fifteen families arrived in Parker County in October, 1845. Due to heavy rains, they were forced to camp on the banks of the Clear Fork of the Trinity River. Eventually, they would cross the river and stake out the sight for their homestead. The Shaw Cabin was erected on this sight.

Shaw had great skills as a carpenter and house builder, and became quite well known for his log cabin building. Many inexperienced homesteaders sought his help. A prosperous farmer, Shaw served as Parker County Commissioner, Justice of the Peace, and a Notary Public. He also helped with the actual organization of Parker County and voted in its first election.

PICKARD CABIN

Built circa 1855, the Pickard Cabin is a one and a half story home. The second story has a loft which was used as the sleeping quarters for the Pickard children.
William Sidney Pickard, and his wife, Malissa Ellen Dickson, were originally from Tennessee. In October 1856, they began their journey to Texas. Accompanying them were William’s father’s family and slaves. Upon arriving in Parker County, William’s father purchased a 320-acre farm in Spring Creek. The family began improvements and started raising horses using the stock they brought with them from Tennessee. In 1863, after William Sidney Pickard returned from the Civil War, he purchased this cabin and lived here with his wife and eight children.

Another prominent citizen of Parker County, William S. Pickard served as County Commissioner and as President of the Parker County Pioneer Association in 1895. He died in his home on 15 January 1898.

THE LOG CABIN VILLAGE

"So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go.” ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder"

These are just a few of the log cabins that have been preserved at Log Cabin Village in Fort Worth. Among the others you will find here are the FOSTER cabin, one of the few surviving plantation style homes in Texas, and a one room, board-and-batten schoolhouse. Built in 1872, the MARINE SCHOOL features handmade benches, a teacher’s desk, and blackboards that were painted on the walls.

Remember, the Log Cabin Village is a Living History Museum where you can not only see how these homes from the 1800s were made, but walk inside and truly see how pioneers lived. A variety of period artifacts are on display. You can walk through the village on your own; each cabin has information posted about its history and a staff member in period costume is present to answer any questions you might have. Or, you can arrange to take a tour called "Meet the Pioneers", very popular with school children and scouting troops. Participants are divided into groups and then visit each cabin where their historical interpreter discusses Texas frontier history, as well as demonstrates various crafts from the 19th century. Demonstrations vary, but include weaving, candle-dipping, blacksmithing, and milling.

“The real things haven't changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.”
~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

I hope you enjoyed this post, and perhaps found it useful. What I love about history is that it really is a part of all of us—individually, as a community, and as a country. And that makes it all the more important to preserve it whenever we can. In closing, I have to send out a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Laura Ingalls Wilder, whose opened a door into the past for me with her book and made it live again. ~ AKB

For more information about the Log Cabin Village, visit their website at:
http://www.logcabinvillage.org/news-events.html

Resources:

Fort Worth’s Log Cabin Village – A History: Terry G. Jordan, Texas State Historical Association (1980)

Early Family Home - The Early Life Settler Series: Bobbie Kalman, Crabtree Publishing Company (1947)

KANE'S REDEMPTION IS RELEASED--by Cheryl Pierson

2012-01-28T01:00:00.002-06:00

Hey everyone, I have a new release out this week and wanted to tell you a little bit about it. It's a departure for me--and I broke several of my own rules to write it.

Rule #1 – I never write in first person.
Rule #2 – I never write from a child’s point of view.
Rule #3 – I always have romance somewhere in my stories.

Well…one out of three ain’t bad.

I threw Rule #1 out the window when I picked up my pen and started this book. I did write Kane’s Redemption in first person. It’s the first work of fiction I’ve ever written from this perspective, and after I wrote it, I knew there would be two more of these novellas to follow. There was no better way to tell this story of young Will Green and Jacobi Kane – and the secret that stands between them.

Will is a child when the story begins, but a young man by the conclusion. So, I guess you could say I broke my own “Rule #2” as well.

Growing up in the 1800’s on the prairie of the southwest would make an adult of you quickly; even quicker if you watched your entire family murdered in the space of five minutes. This story is not just about Will, though – it’s also about Jacobi Kane, who has some secrets of his own. Although he rescues Will, he wrestles with demons that can’t be fought alone – but how can Will help? In the end, who is the true rescuer – Will, or Jacobi Kane?

Romance? Well, there’s a bit of that. But it’s the romance that comes with new beginnings and the kiss of forgiveness. Come to think of it, the romance in Kane’s Redemption is different from anything else I’ve ever written, too.

This story came from somewhere deep; a place I didn’t know existed. It’s a gift I hope you will take as much pleasure in reading as I did in writing.

Look for Book 2 in the Kane trilogy, Kane’s Promise, in the fall of 2012.

Here's the blurb:Novella - A ten-year-old boy fights for his life when he is taken prisoner by a band of raiding Apache. Steeling himself for death, Will Green is shocked when a lone man walks into the Apache camp to rescue him several days later.

Driven by the secret he carries, Jacobi Kane has followed the Indians for days and needs to make his move to save the boy. With the odds stacked eight against one, his chances for success look pretty slim. But even if he's able to rescue the boy and they get out alive, what then?

EXCERPT from Chapter 1:Tonight would be my night to die. Red Eagle and his men had kept me alive to their own end, for the last several days. Now, they argued, and though I didn't speak Apache, it wasn't hard to tell what they meant. We had ridden across endless miles of desert, populated only by saguaro cactus and rattlesnakes for days. I wasn't sure how many. The men talked amongst themselves, their faces smeared with war paint. Garish and frightening, they had seemed to me from the moment they took me. Now, they seemed hideous, almost laughable.

The sun was setting on another day among endless time – six days; seven? I wasn't sure how long we'd ridden. On and on, it seemed as if we'd ride until we came to the end of the earth. But I knew the ocean surrounded the continent on three sides, and we were far from the cooling spray of ocean water my father had often spoken of.

I was in Hell, and I knew it. But not the why. Why was I even still alive?

Available for Kindle here at Amazon, and in print next week!
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/books/book-detail-page?ie=UTF8&bookASIN=B0072FW5TA&index=default

DO-SI-DO YOUR PARTNER!

2012-01-26T01:04:00.043-06:00

By Caroline Clemmons

When I was growing up in Lubbock, Texas, dancing in school was strictly forbidden. We could, however, learn "folk games" in physical education class. That was the only part of Phys Ed that I liked. I am soooo not a jock. Think shy, klutzy, asthmatic nerd.

After high school graduation, I became a student at Texas Tech. My first semester there, a guy asked me to the western dance held each Friday night, and I accepted. Woohoo! I didn’t think I knew how to dance western style, but I had this great skirt that would be perfect. (Yes, I was pretty shallow, but I was 17, so give me a break.) Imagine my surprise when the dances were the folk games I’d learned in public school!

According to the Mid Atlantic Challenge Association, the square dance is an American institution. It began in New England when the first settlers to New England (probably not counting the Puritans) and the immigrant groups that followed brought with them their various national dances: the schottische, the quadrille, the jigs and reels, and the minuet. I’m including one of my favorite videos below, in which Queen Elizabeth II is shown dancing what greatly resembles a square dance (but formal). That’s Prince Charles dancing with his grandmother, the Queen Mother. Thanks to Loretta Chase and Susan Holloway Scott for including the video on their blog, "Two Nerdy History Girls."

Lacking the organized recreation of today, hardworking New England pioneers felt a need for activity that provided recreation as well as social contact with neighbors. Settlers gathered in the community center, a barn, or wherever there was room on Saturday evening and enjoyed dancing their old-world favorites. Communities grew and people of different backgrounds intermingled, and so did their dances. As the repertoire increased, it became increasingly difficult for the average person to remember the various movements.

In almost any group there would be at least one extrovert with a knack for remembering the dance figures. Dancers let this person cue or prompt them in case they happened to forget what came next. In due course, the prompter (or caller) acquired a repertoire of patter that he could intersperse with the cues. Initially, each square consisting of four couples had its own caller who stood in the center of the four couples. Must have resulted in a lot of noise! With the introduction of better dance conditions, microphones, etc. only one caller was needed.

In the early 1930's, Henry Ford became interested in the revival of square dancing as a part of his early New England restoration project. Mr. Ford used to vacation at the Wayside Inn in Sudbury, Massachusetts. There he became interested in the dance program conducted by Benjamin Lovett. (I can’t help but wonder if he was an ancestor of Lyle Lovett.) The program included the gavotte, mazurkas, the schottische, the minuet, the Virginia reel, and other squares and rounds. Mr. Ford tried to hire Mr. Lovett, who declined, pointing out that he had a firm contract with the Inn. Ford simply bought the Inn and Mr. Lovett's contract and took Mr. Lovett back to Detroit with him. Isn’t money grand? At least...I think it would be.

In the Detroit area, Mr. Ford established a broad program for teaching squares and rounds, including radio broadcasts and programs for schools. He built a hall in Greenfield Village and named it Lovett Hall, and it is still in use. His efforts captured the interest of other individuals who then modernized the activity so that it would appeal to contemporary America while retaining its basic flavor. Square dancing groups began to form all over the country.

1945 Victor Keppler Photo

By 1948, square dancing had reached the level of a fad and there was some concern that interest would be short-lived. Not so.

Folk dancing also received a major boost in the 1920's when the New York City public schools, the first major school system to do so, made folk dancing a required activity. But Lloyd "Pappy" Shaw should received primary credit for square dancing's modern revival. Shaw was superintendent of the Cheyenne Mountain High School in Colorado during the 1930's. Shaw shared his enthusiasm with his students and offered summer classes for dancers, callers, and national folk dance leaders. Returning to their respective homes and communities, the square dance revival began. In 1938, Shaw organized a student demonstration team that performed exhibition dances in Los Angeles, Boston, New York and New Orleans.

Morris Dancers in England

According to many scholars, the English ancestor of our modern square dance was the great Morris dance. It was an exhibition dance done by trained teams of costumed Morris dancers wearing bells - six men (women did not participate) in two rows of three. Later on, in the 17th century, country dances became all the rage in England. At the same time, people did "rounds for as many as will", some of which resembled the choral dances often danced in the naves of English churches.

As shown below, basic steps ground the square dance, with fancier steps added as dancers gain expertise. Great way to exercise while having fun!

The French adopted and modified the English country dance and called in the Contredanse Anglais. They also produced the form of dance known as the Quadrille (a term which originally referred to a card game). Many people believe the Quadrille is the grand-daddy of our modern square dance. However, "Dull Sir John" and "Faine I Would" were square dances popular in England over 300 years ago. The French also developed the Contredanse Francais or Cotilion (later changed to Cotillion), a dance done in a square formation with eight dancers. The video is from Erika Joy Ordonez's Graduation/Birthday Cotillion at the Waikiki Beach Hotel, Waikiki, Hawaii on July 14, 2007. Love it, but all I can add is Erika's dad must be very wealthy! I wonder if Erika paid for all the dresses. $orry, I lost my train of thought for a moment.

As I mentioned, dancing masters came to this country with our forefathers and brought with them the dances of their homeland. One of the earliest records and one of few of these dances is contained in the works of John Playford, a musician and dancing master. His book, "The English Dancing Master - Plaine and Easy Rules for the Dancing of Country Dances, with Tunes to Each Dance" was published in seventeen editions between 1650 and 1728 and contained 918 dances.

Meanwhile, couple dancing was keeping pace. The French had a round dance called the branle, and there was the gavotte and the minuet. The most daring of all dances, the waltz (Sigh, I love to waltz!), created quite a stir when it was introduced, for it permitted the gentleman to hold his partner in close embrace as they moved about the floor. Not so shocking now, but scandalous at the time. Regency readers will recall that special permission had to be given musicians to play that dance at a ball. That dance position, which we now call closed dance position, was known for many years as the waltz position.

President Ronald Reagan made square dancing the National Folk Dance 1982-1983 and many states also have adopted it as the state dance. Here's square dancing the way it's supposed to look, performed by the Traveling Hoedowners dance group at Whirl & Twirl in Orlando FL. Paul Place is the caller. www.travelinghoedowners.com

Wherever you live, somewhere nearby square dance lessons are offered. Do you ever go square dancing?

By the way, the recipient of Lyn Horner's books, DARLING DRUID and DASHING DRUID from January 20-21 was Ruby. Thanks for commenting, Ruby.

Shoes made out of what?

2012-01-24T09:01:00.000-06:00

by Lauri Robinson

Wyoming is stuck in my mind lately—probably because my current WIP is set there—so I decided to share an interesting historical tidbit about Big Nose George and his Wyoming demise and what still remains of him there.

Last summer we spent the night in Rawlings, Wyoming. As we were exiting the interstate my husband told me about a car that used to be there when he lived in the state as a young child. It had two front ends and could drive in both directions. We both laughed as we headed down the main drag toward our hotel and there sat the car. (No, that’s not the tidbit I want to share.)

While in town, we wanted to visit the local museum to see the shoes made out of Big Nose George (yes, made out of) but to our disappointment, the museum hours didn’t coincide with our schedule unless we extended our vacation by a couple of days, which we couldn’t. So, though I didn’t see the shoes in person, here’s the story:

George Parrott (he had several aliases) was an outlaw, mainly a cattle rustler but participated in many other robberies, who met his demise after killing a Wyoming deputy and a railroad investigator. The lawmen had been pursing Big Nose George and his gang for train robbery. After a shootout in which the lawmen were killed, George and his gang made their way into Montana, and for whatever reason, in a saloon there they began bragging about killing the lawmen. George was apprehended and returned to Wyoming for a trial. Found guilty, he was sentenced to hang on April 2^nd. However, on March 22^nd he attempted to escape while being held in the Rawlings jail, and failed which led to an earlier death than scheduled. The jailer’s wife heard her husband calling for help when Big Nose George, (who’d managed to relieve himself of the heavy shackles on his legs with a pocket knife and a piece of sandstone) hit her husband over the head. She grabbed a gun and persuaded Big Nose George back into his cell. The jailer’s skull had been fractured, and while he lay healing, word spread of the attempted jail break. Over two-hundred local residents stormed the jail and proceeded to lynch Big Nose George from a telegraph pole that very day.

But that is only half the story….A local doctor wanted to study the brain of an outlaw, believing it would assist him in treating other patients. When Big Nose George’s brain revealed no out of the ordinary findings, the doctor then peeled the skin from George’s chest and thighs and had them made into a pair of shoes. The doctor, John Osborne, went on to become other things, but ultimately, the Governor of Wyoming. And wore those shoes at his inauguration. (For more information and pictures you can visit RoadsideAmerica.com)

I haven’t used any of this in a story, and don’t know if I will, but found it too amazing not to share.

I’d also like to share that my next book, Testing a Lawman’s Honor, will be released on February 1^st.

El Dorado, Kansas, 1881

Della Cramer has tried her hardest to ignore the way Deputy Spencer Monroe stirs her desire, believing he doesn't share her feelings. Little does she know that Spencer has been harboring years of regret for not preventing her marriage to a scoundrel, despite the searing kiss they shared.

When her long-lost husband's sudden death leaves Della's future uncertain, only Spencer can help her. But first, he will have to convince her to trust him and finally give free rein to her passion....

Short excerpt:

Her lips had gone dry, but Della didn’t dare lick them. Spencer might take it as a sign she wanted him to kiss her. And she did want that, more than she wanted to breathe, but kissing him wouldn’t solve anything.

His gaze continued to encompass her, as if he could see inside her head and read her deepest, most private secrets. Startled, terrified he might be able to do just that, Della ducked under his arm and didn’t stop until several feet separated them.

“Spencer,” she started. It was a moment before she could snatch on to a dwindling ounce of willpower. “I’ve just learned of my husband’s death, and the loss of my home, I-I—”

He cocked his head, and the gaze in his eyes was too charming. Too endearing. “I don’t have time to play games with you,” she whispered.

“Funny you should mention games, Della.” He took a step forward. “I think it’s time we both stop playing them.”

“Spencer.” She pressed a hand over her heart, fearing it might explode.

His hands, gentle and warm, and big and so precious her breath stalled, ran down her upper arms and then back up to settle on her shoulders, stirring up a delicious heat deep within. “You know what I’m talking about, Della.”

Guest: Darlene Franklin--Inspirational Historical Romance Author

2012-01-22T07:19:00.003-06:00

Welcome, Darlene Franklin! Readers, please leave a comment to be eligible for a hard copy of Darlene's newest release, "A Ranger's Trail." And now, here she is, to tell us all about herself and her writing--expecially her Texas novels.

Recently a reviewer called the Texas Trails series an “epic.” The description startled me, but the more I thought about it, the more it resonated. The six books of the series sweep through fifty years of Texas history (1846-1896), touching on major milestones of the period: immigration, settlement, Indian wars, range wars, cowboys, the Rangers, stagecoaches, the War Between the States, the discovery of oil.

But when Susan Page Davis (Captive Trail and Cowgirl Trail), Vickie McDonough (Long Trail Home and The End of the Trail) put together the proposal, we weren’t thinking “epic.” We were looking for a way to tie six books about Texas together and we decided on the tried-and-true family saga arrangement. Then we looked at historical events that interested us in the six decades from the 1840s to the 1890s. Before long we had the structure we needed for the series. The books stand alone, and we each wrote two titles in the series. My two entries, Lone Star Trail and A Ranger’s Trail, take place during the 1840s and 1870s respectively.

Our agent, Chip McGregor, suggested the idea and teamed the three of us together. Susan, Vickie and I have worked together before. I felt privileged to work with such great writers. Not only that, but we work well together. Not all teams do!

Why Texas? Because Texas sells! And more than that, all three of us enjoy writing stories set in the west.

Vickie is from Oklahoma, but both Susan and I grew up in Maine. Susan has never lived in the southwest, but her knowledge of horses, farms, guns, and all things western combined with her research make her a terrific western writer.

I not only grew up in Maine, my mother lived on the ocean for almost thirty years. I kept moving south and west for my education and other reasons until I reached Colorado. The purple mountain majesty of song tamed my heart the same way the roar of the ocean waves pounding the rocks outside my parents’ home did. I soon discovered how much I prefer the western way of life. It’s friendlier, slower, and so very American. After twenty years in Denver, I recently returned to Oklahoma for the best of all reasons: I wanted to be near my grandchildren.

Texas Trails begins on the Gulf Coast, in Victoria. That’s not quite on the coast; they arrive in Carlshafen/Indianola, a town that got blown away by a hurricane that shows up in A Ranger’s Trail. In Lone Star Trail, the Morgans have a thriving horse farm near Victoria. Texas has just joined the Union. Jud resents the tide of Germans arriving in Texas to claim free land promised to them in the hill country.

In A Ranger’s Trail, Jud’s son Buck is a Texas Ranger assigned to quiet a range war that’s taking place in Mason County, part of the German community in the hill country. Although we didn’t plan it that way, all our stories except one, I believe, take place on a more or less straight line from Ft. Worth to Victoria. Moody put together a map showing the locations of each story that appears in each of the books.

In preparation for writing the series, I took a trip down that line from Ft. Worth to Victoria. I also found a number of excellent books which gave me some of the nitty gritty details I like to include in my stories.

In A Ranger’s Trail, I included quotes from contemporary accounts of the Mason County War. I wanted my readers to understand that the skeleton of my story actually happened, that the ugly prejudices and violence did not spring from my imagination. It was part blood feud, part range war, a senseless waste of life that stemmed from racial tension between “Germans” and “Americans.” I fought hard (and succeeded, I believe) to make it a story of hope in the midst of a hopeless situation.

SHORT BLURB:

TEXAS TRAILS: Doubt meets hope and fear gives way to faith in the Morgan family.
A RANGER’S TRAIL: When Leta Denning’s husband is murdered at the beginning of the Mason County War, she wants one thing: revenge. Buck Morgan, a Texas Ranger called in to investigate, has ties to a German family involved in Denning’s death.

Buck’s ability to remain impartial and bring the murderer to justice has Leta anxious. As she struggles to keep her ranch afloat, Buck offers to help—all the while searching for the truth. A tentative trail emerges, one forged by respect and bound by vengeance and forgiveness.

FIRST PAGE:
“Found not guilty of any wrongdoing. Praise the Lord.” Derrick Denning lifted his cup of coffee in a mock salute to his wife, Leta. “As the Good Book says, ‘Thou hast maintained my right and my cause.’ Though I feel bad about the fines the other fellows have to pay.

The Denning family sat around the table enjoying a celebratory dinner in their cabin on the D-Bar-D Ranch. Young Ricky clapped his hands on the table, although he didn’t know what they were celebrating. Leta looked into her husband’s eyes over their son’s head and smiled. The baby inside her stirred, as if contently joining in on the joy.

“I’ll read up on that new law about transporting cattle over county lines before I go on any more cattle drives. Right and legal aren’t always the same thing, and we want to be sure we stick on the side of the law.”

“It’s not right, the other men getting fined.” Leta’s brother Andy stopped shoveling beans into his mouth long enough to grumble. “They didn’t do nothing wrong. The cattle belonged to Mr. Roberts and Mr. Thomas.”

When her husband was arrested for helping M.B. Thomas and Allen Roberts take their cattle to Llano County from Mason County, the ordeal filled her with anguish. Local German cattlemen had accused both Thomas and Roberts of stealing cattle. In the court case, six of the cowhands were found guilty and fined $25 a head. Yet the court dismissed Derrick’s case due to insufficient evidence.

The German cattlemen had grumbled at the verdict. Tensions between Anglos and Germans already ran high, since German settlers had opposed seceding from the Union during the War Between the States. Now Mason County was full of cattle ranchers who were angry that justice for cattle stealing—real and supposed—was not being fulfilled through the law. German settlers and people native to Mason County alike were troubled.
~*~*~*~
Buy Link: A Ranger's Trail on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/A-Rangers-Trail-ebook/dp/B006YYGUFK
Darlene's Blog:
http://darlenefranklinwrites.blogspot.com/

GUEST LYN HORNER SHARES HER LOVE OF TEXAS

2012-01-20T13:41:00.002-06:00

By Caroline Clemmons

Jeanmarie Hamilton had surgery this week, so please help me welcome Lyn Horner who is graciously allowing me to repost and earlier interview with her from my own blog. To show her appreciation for her readers, one lucky person who leaves a comment today will win downloads of both of Lyn's books!

Author Lyn Horner

Lyn, please tell us about growing up.

Lyn: I’m an only child. Born in San Francisco, I was raised in Minnesota, my mother’s home state. My father was a Texan and it’s from him that I inherited my love of the Old West. I’m married to my high school sweetheart. We have two grown children, six grandkids and a passel of cats.

Caroline: I love cats, but only have two. I notice that you also have a memoir titled SIX CATS IN MY KITCHEN. Would you like to give us a small peek at that book before we go on to DARLIN' DRUID?

Lyn: Thank you. I invite you to try my memoir, SIX CATS IN MY KITCHEN. Six special cats are the headline-grabbing stars, but I touch upon subjects such as grieving the loss of loved ones, living with a disability, and coping with major life changes.

Quoting reviewer Todd Fonseca, “Through her prose, Horner’s love of life, cats, and wonderfully engaging humor comes through in this high energy memoir. Reading Horner’s story is like chatting with a best friend over coffee on a Sunday afternoon – few things in life are better.”

Caroline: Your book sounds inviting. Who are your favorite authors and favorite genres?

Lyn: Diana Gabaldon is my favorite author. I adore her Outlander series. I also like Linda Howard and Iris Johansen. As you might guess, my favorite genres are historical romance (especially Scottish, Irish and western romance) and contemporary romantic suspense.

Caroline: We share a love of the same genres. Isn't Diana Gabaldon a lovely person as well as a great writer? How many books do you read a month? What are you reading now?

Lyn: I don’t read as much as I used to because I’m busy writing. Such a burden! Even so, I read five or six books a month. Right now I’m re-reading KINSMAN'S OATH by Susan Krinard. When I find books I like, I often read them again and again.

Lynn's Memoirs
and her 6 cats

Caroline: So do I, and each time I get something new from them. When you’re not writing, what’s your favorite way to relax and recharge? I know you love your cats, but do you have any hobbies?

Lyn: Let’s see, I love to read of course, and I love movies. Some of my favorites are the "Lord of The Rings" trilogy, "Avatar," "Gladiator," "Last of the Mohicans," and "Red River" (the original black and white version with John Wayne and Montgomery Clift.) Gardening is my only outdoor hobby.

Caroline: At our house we're very grateful for Netflix so we can watch our favorite movies and TV series. Describe yourself in three or four words.

Lyn: Determined, imaginative and somewhat reclusive.

Caroline: Would you like to share any guilty pleasures that feed your muse?

Lyn: Dark chocolate, Celtic music and steamy hot baths. Oh, and an occasional margarita.

Caroline: You and I have a great deal in common! How long have you been writing?

Lyn: I’ve always enjoyed writing, but from the time my folks gave me a rudimentary oil painting kit, I set my mind on becoming an artist. I got my bachelor of fine arts and worked as an illustrator and art instructor for several years. Then I had two children, we moved, forcing me to quit work, and I found myself isolated at home with two small kids. To save my sanity I began to write as a hobby. That was well over twenty years ago. The ups and downs since then could fill a book.

Caroline: Writing does have a lot of ups and downs that mirror life. Where do you prefer to write? Do you need quiet, music, solitude? PC or laptop?

Lyn: I work on a laptop. My favorite places to write are in my recliner or on our bed with books and research notes spread around me. If I’m writing a blog or answering interview questions I can do it with the TV on, music playing, or my husband talking to me. But if I’m working on a book, I need quiet. Solitude is best.

Caroline: Are you a plotter or a panzer?

Lyn: I’m a plotter. I use stickum notes to work out major plot points, then develop a loose outline. It undergoes changes as a book progresses, but having a plan keeps me on course toward my goal.

Caroline: Same here. What on earth did we do before Post-It notes? Do you use real events or persons in your stories or as an inspiration for stories?

Lyn: I am very often inspired by real events in my western historicals. For example, I use the Chicago Fire and our country’s first transcontinental railroad in DARLIN' DRUID. Most of my characters are purely fictitious, although I did include the real commander of Camp Douglas, Utah, as a peripheral character in DD.

Caroline: Tell us about your writing schedule. Do you set goals? Do you write daily?

Lyn: I set goals but don’t always meet them. I write nearly every day, starting by 6:30 or 7 a.m. First I check email, comment on some writing forums, and maybe write a blog. When all the “fun stuff” is done, I go to work on my current project. With interruptions for household chores, it’s more of the same until late evening, sometimes into the wee hours of morning.

Caroline: I'm so not a morning person and tend to be more creative late at night. What do you hope your writing brings to readers?

Lyn: Most of all, I hope to give readers a rollicking good adventure that draws them in and won’t let go of them until the very last word.

Caroline: What long-term plans do you have for your career?

Lyn: I will continue to write my stories and publish them as ebooks. If I’m lucky enough to build a loyal following of readers, I will be proud and grateful. Beyond that I’ll take one day at a time.

Caroline: Well said! Would you like to tell us what you’re working on now?

Also now available

Lyn: Sure. I’ve just finished writing book II in my Texas Druids series. Titled DASHING DRUID. This is the story of Tye Devlin and Lil Crawford, troubled souls who find both comfort and conflict in each other’s arms. Like his sister Jessie, the heroine of DARLIN' DRUID, Tye possesses a psychic gift inherited from Druid ancestors. He can experience other people’s feelings – he’s empathic in modern terms – an ability that may save those he loves or get him killed. Now I'm at work on book three in the series, DEAREST DRUID.

Caroline: What advice would you give to unpublished authors?

Lyn: Learn your craft, research settings and time periods carefully, and write the best book you can. Join a critique group and edit, edit, edit! Be persistent. Don’t let rejection letters stop you. Keep writing, keep submitting, and consider publishing your own eBooks. They are now outselling all forms of print books.

Caroline: Tell us about the first in this series. In any series, even if they're stand alone books, I like to begin with the first book.

Lyn: If psychics live among us, if they existed in ages past, is it possible such gifted beings also inhabited the American Old West? They do in my Texas Druids trilogy. Meet the Devlins, whose hidden talents lead them across prairies and mountains, into the land of cowboys and Indians, with consequences not even a Druid seer could predict.

Set in 1872, DARLIN’ DRUID is a blend of epic adventure, stormy romance and family strife, peppered by flashes of Druid magic. Jessie Devlin, daughter of Irish immigrants and survivor of the Great Chicago Fire, is descended from the “Old Ones,” her mother’s name for their ancient Druid ancestors. Gifted with visions of the future, Jessie dreams again and again of an unknown man who saves her from death. A prophetic vision convinces her the man is real and sends her west in search of him. But will her quest lead her to love or into a deadly trap?

Caroline: You've hooked me! I do believe in psychic abilities and several people in my family are psychics of one type or another.

Lyn: Here's the excerpt:

A woman’s shriek rent the air, interrupting his ruminations and jerking him to attention. The sound had come from inside the depot.

“What the devil?” he muttered. Cutting a path between startled travelers, he shoved open the door and stepped into the building. The stuffy interior reeked of tobacco and sweaty bodies. Finding a gap in the crowd, David caught sight of a red-faced young corporal. The trooper bobbed and weaved, arms raised to fend off blows being rained upon him by a woman in a brown poke bonnet. Her weapon was a heavy looking black reticule.

“Scoundrel! I’ll teach ye some manners, I will!” she vowed in a furious Irish brogue. Swinging wildly, she sent the corporal’s blue cap flying.

“Take it easy, lady!” he cried. “I didn’t mean no harm.”

Wondering what offense the man had committed, David shouldered his way through the crowd until he stood directly behind the woman. Slim and a head shorter than himself, she wore a calico gown, the same drab color as her bonnet. Some settler’s wife, he assumed. But where was her husband?

“No harm, indeed! Stand still, ye heathen, and take what’s comin’ to ye,” she ranted. As she spoke, the yellow-haired corporal spotted David’s uniform and threw him a desperate look.

Feeling duty-bound to step in, David cleared his throat loudly and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, but perhaps that’s enough. The corporal might be needed in one piece when he gets back to his post.” His remark drew laughter from several bystanders.

The woman snorted angrily. “Indeed? Well, I don’t give a fig whether the lout is in one piece or twenty!” So saying, she landed a solid whack on the corporal’s noggin that made him yelp.

“Get ’im, darlin’!” a man in the crowd shouted, egging her on.

Afraid the young soldier might retaliate, David reached out to grasp the woman’s arms, stopping her in mid-swing. “Ma’am, if you’ll just settle down . . . .”

“Let me go!” she shrilled, attempting to wrench free.

He should have complied with her demand, but some primitive instinct made him slip an arm around her and haul her back against him. A sweet scent of lilacs and woman washed over him, and he instantly grew aware of her feminine curves.

She gasped indignantly. “How dare ye? Bithiúnach! Muclach! Take your filthy hands off me.”

Glad he didn’t understand Irish, David cursed under his breath when she rammed her heel into his shin. It didn’t hurt much thanks to his leather boots; nor did the small fists pounding on his arms. But her frantic twisting sent the wrong signal to his male parts.

“Calm down, you little wildcat!” he growled. Releasing her, he stepped back before he humiliated himself.

Whirling around, the woman drew back her arm as if to slap him, only to freeze when their eyes met. A choked sound escaped her lips and the angry color drained from her cheeks. Seeing her sway, David grasped her shoulders to steady her. Her hands clutched his forearms as he returned her wide-eyed stare.

Her eyes were sapphire blue, so dazzling that he had trouble breaking their hold upon him. When he did, he noticed how young she looked – eighteen or twenty, he guessed – and what a beauty she was.

His gaze wandered over her smooth, creamy cheeks and dainty nose then lingered on her pink parted lips. Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he noted the dark auburn curls framing her brow. Her ugly bonnet hid the rest of her hair, but he bet it would look like silk when she let it down.

Then he noticed how rapidly her breasts rose and fell, and desire surged through him, swift and strong. He felt a loco urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Reluctantly dragging his gaze back to her sapphire eyes, he wondered what had come over her. A moment ago, she’d been mad as a hornet. Now she stared at him as if she were seeing a ghost.

Dazed by the sight of him, Jessie wondered vaguely if she was having one of her visions. Her gaze kept returning to his gray-green eyes. Crowned by dark brows with an eerily familiar slant, they matched those she’d so often seen in her dreams. Could this tall, uniformed stranger be the man she had left home to find? She hadn’t expected her quest to bear fruit so soon. And the longer she studied his sun-bronzed, square-jawed face, arrow-straight nose and unyielding mouth, the more she doubted he was the one.

Those rakish features were hard, not gentle, and his hauntingly familiar eyes did not caress her like the ones in her dreams. Instead, they devoured her, making her stomach flutter and her heart race. When he boldly stared at her breasts, they tingled as if he were actually touching them. Stunned by her reaction, she inhaled sharply, catching the scent of shaving soap and virile male. She wondered if he would kiss her.

Caroline: Intriguing excerpt to add to the blurb. I'm sure they've made readers want to read the book. Where can readers find DARLIN' DRUID?

Lyn:
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004ASNDES

Barnes and Noble: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/product.aspx?ean=2940012184290

Caroline: Anything else you’d like readers to know?

Lyn: See my vision of my book:

Caroline: How can readers learn more about you?

Lyn: My home page: http://texasdruids.com//

Blog site: http://texasdruids.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lyn-Horner/161787403863487

Thank you, Lyn, for sharing a new type of western historical with us today. Continued good luck with your writing career!

Thanks to you, readers, for stopping by.

James Lynch, "Crazy Water," and Mineral Wells, Texas

2012-01-18T06:46:00.001-06:00

LOCATION OF MINERAL WELLS, TEXAS

In 1877, James Lynch and his wife, Amanda, left the North Texas town of Denison, Texas with their nine children and fifty head of livestock. The Lynch’s were searching for a drier climate because their family had been in poor health. Both James, who was fifty, and Amanda suffered from rheumatism.

HILLS OF PALO PINTO COUNTY, MINERAL WELLS, TEXAS

As they traveled, news of Comanche attacks further west stopped their journey. On Christmas Eve, 1877, one of their oxen collapsed and died after crossing the Brazos River and lightning struck another. They decided to settle down where they were, in a pretty valley tucked in the hills of Palo Pinto County.

LYNCH CABINS AND WELL

Mr. Lynch purchase eighty acres of land and began to settle. From 1877 until the summer of 1880, the Lynch’s hauled water from the Brazos River to their land, some four miles away. That summer Mr. Johnny Adams happened upon the Lynch Ranch. Mr. Adams, a well driller, agreed to drill a well on the property for Mr. Lynch in exchange for a yoke of oxen.

JAMES ALVIN LYNCH

At first the Lynch’s were hesitant to drink the water, because it had a funny taste and they were afraid it might be poisoned. Hauling water four miles, though, was difficult, so they began sampling the water. Finding that it was not harmful, the Lynch’s began drinking the well water. An unexpected thing happened. Mr. and Mrs. Lynch’s rheumatism was cured, and Mr. Lynch, once frail and gaunt, began putting on weight. In fact, the entire family became healthier.

QUART OF WATER

News of the improvements in the health of the Lynch family spread fast. Neighbors began trying the water, and within a month strangers were coming to the Lynch Ranch inquiring about it. Mr. Lynch began selling the water for five cents a quart. The water grew in popularity very quickly, and by the end of the year 3,000 people at a time were camping on the Lynch property.

The town of Mineral Wells was laid out on the ranch in the fall of 1881, and Mr. Lynch became the town’s first mayor. People arrived by the hundreds, and by November it looked like a small army had moved in. A boom town had sprung up. Because of the enormous demand, Mr. Lynch and others began to dig more wells.

CRAZY WELL PAVILION

The water got its name of "Crazy Water" from an elderly lady who suffered from a form of dementia and sat by the well all day, asking people to draw her up a pail of water. The water apparently had some positive effects on the “crazy lady’s” illness, and soon others were lining up for the water. The well was named the “Crazy Well" and a pavilion was built at the site. Today, the Crazy Water Retirement Hotel sits on that spot on Main Street.

CRAZY WATER COMPANY-TODAY

The Crazy Water Company became the most well known of the Mineral Wells water companies. Today, visitors can find the Crazy Water Company a couple of blocks behind the Crazy Hotel.

CRAZY WATER CRYSTAL PLANT

The Crazy Water Crystal Plant was built in 1919. "Crazy" water was boiled down until only crystals remained. These crystals became an early version of "instant food" to be dissolved in water. The crystals were sold all over the world.

MINERAL WELL, TEXAS
TODAY

This is a recent photo of Mineral Wells, Texas today.

Please read these notes:

NOTE #1: A significant amount of lithium can be found in some of the town’s wells, indicating that the "Crazy Water" story may have significance. Lithium is used today to treat some mental illnesses.

NOTE #2: As a very young man, my daddy worked in the Crystal Plant. When he met Mother, I believe he was working there at the time. My mother, as a young girl, worked in the basement laundry of the famous Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells. They courted by going to dances held for young adults. My daddy always said of Mother: "Another fellow took her to the dance, but I took her home."

NOTE #3: I was born in Salesville, a small village eight miles north of Mineral Wells. I grew up in West Texas, but all through the years, we traveled back to Minerals Wells and Salesville to visit both sets of grandparents. I've known about the Crazy Hotel and the crazy water..and the Baker Hotel..my entire life.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com http://www.celiayeary.com
http://sweetheartsofthewest.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Celia-Yeary-Author/208687145867971

The Olivas Adobe..come back in time today! ~Tanya Hanson.

2012-01-16T11:02:00.000-06:00

The Olivas Adobe is a great way to “visit” Southern California’s Rancho Period first-hand. Not far from my home, this prime example of adobe (dried clay brick) architecture is unique with its two-story structure. Don Raymundo Olivas added an unusual second floor during the rancho’s hey-day in the late 1840’s, and the house has been restored to its original stature.

Don Raymundo was born poor in 1809 in the tiny pueblo that grew into today’s Los Angeles and joined the Mexican Army in California at 16. As a Lancer (cavalryman), he was assigned to the Presidio (fort) at Santa Barbara, about two hours north of L.A.

It was here in Santa Barbara that Raymundo met Teodora Lopez and married her in November 1832. In gratitude for his loyalty and service, Mexican Governor Juan B. Alvarado granted Raymundo and a friend 4,670 acres of land in today’s Ventura County. Raymundo began ranching this land while Teodora began bearing children. 21 total, eight girls and 13 boys.

When gold was discovered along the American River about four hundred miles north, Raymundo found his own "gold mine" and made a fortune supplying those Forty-Niner miners with beef as well as hides.

These were the golden years for the adobe, with its remodeling and additions and glorious parties. Raymundo’s family prospered until drought in the 1860’s destroyed the cattle empires. He survived by raising sheep.

His death in 1879 was the beginning of the end for the Olivas' fortune, and the adobe house was sold in 1899. Some of the ranchland has become a municipal golf course, some strawberry fields, some subdivisions. After passing through many owners, the adobe itself was purchased by Max Fleischmann, of the yeast empire, who restored the building in 1927. Upon his death, the adobe was given to the City of Ventura, and it opened as a museum in July, 1972. Docent-led tours are frequent.

We local folks enjoy the “Cowboys, Heroes and Outlaws: Passport to the American West” held every summer, with Western reenactors in full regalia as well as pioneer crafts for the kids.

In fact, many fourth-grade schoolchildren take field trips to the adobe for a hands-on two-hour program that brings to life the Rancho Period of California History.

And just last month, folks enjoyed the annual holiday candlelight tour that showcased the tradition of Las Posada, where Mary and Joseph seek room at the inn.

It’s a great place to visit. Ya’ll come on down, ya hear?

~Tanya
www.tanyahanson.com
www.petticoatsandpistols.com

My latest release, Right to Bragg, is available now at Amazon and White Rose Publishing.. It's Book Four in the Hearts Crossing Ranch series...I just turned in Book Eight and the feelings are bittersweet. I love that ranch and the Martin family. Book Three, Sanctuary, and my first-ever suspense story Faithful Danger are both up for CAPA Awards at The Romance Studio. Enjoyable start to a new year.

Savvy Sayin’s Two

2012-01-14T00:08:00.000-06:00

By Anna Kathryn Lanier

No matter how often I remind myself that my blog date is coming up, it seems I am always writing my blog the night (or day) it’s due. Sure enough, here it is, 11:30 p.m. on Friday, January 13^th and I’m just now writing my blog. So, it has to be something simple and not requiring a lot of research. I’ve gone to my shelf of ‘western’ books and found SAVVY SAYIN’S: True Wisdom from The Real West collected by Ken Alstad. (check out my Savvy Sayin’s here). The book includes woodcuts by Remington and Russell from the 1800’s. Sorry that I can include those in this list of sayin’s, which, by the way, don’t come with translations, which some of them need.

·         You can’t measure water with a sieve.
·         Some men can’t live without lonesome.
·         It’s a sure sign of bad luck to bet on the wrong horse.
·         The ignorant hold up trains n’ stages. The intelligent steal ‘em.
·         Teeth and memory weaken with age.
·         Careful is a naked man climbin’ a bobwire fence.
·         Some men never reach a marriageable age.
·         Saddle your horse before sassin’ the boss.
·         Advice is only handy before trouble comes.
·         Cowboys are paid $30 a month to outthink cows.
·         The west is good country for men and dogs, but mighty hard on women and oxen.
·         A full house divided wins no pot.
·         The west is famous for rare and wonderful sights. But the rarest of all is clean socks in a bunkhouse.
·         Love your enemies, but keep your gun oiled.
·         Secrets are better heard than kept.

Which one is your favorite? Do you have a sayin’ to share?

Anna Kathryn Lanier
www.aklanier.com annakathrynlanier.blogspot.com

Use Emotions you Know by Paty Jager

2012-01-12T00:01:00.000-06:00

I grew up in an area that until the 1980's depended on logging. So it was natural that one of my Halsey brothers would have an eye at the huge pines on their mountain.

Researching for Logger in Petticoats was fun and nostalgic. While the only connection my family had to logging were several years my dad worked in a lumber mill, our property ran up the side of a mountain and I loved riding my horse through the pine, fir, and tamarack on the mountain. The trees were tall, straight and some so wide at the base you needed several people to lock hands and reach around them. They were giant sentinels in the forest. The birds tweeting from the high branches, the wind rustling the needles and creaking the trees sounded loud in the muffled quiet of the forest floor. The scents of the forest; decaying leaves and needles, the tang of the pine and softer nuances of fir filled your nostrils and triggered a feeling of being one with the earth. Each type of tree had it's own distinguishing scent, bark, and needles.

I used my awe of the timber and infused it in the hero Hank Halsey. Then since the whole Halsey brother series had strong willed heroines, I came up with Kelda Nielsen. The only daughter of a Norwegian logger with three sons. They are all large, Kelda included. She's grown up learning the logging trade and excels. She loves being outside but as her mother has aged, Kelda must help out in the kitchen.

While Hank has sisters-in-law who have/had male occupations, he believes no woman should be in the woods and so the battle begins between the two as their attraction for one another also grows.

Here is the blurb for Logger in Petticoats thefifth book of the Halsey brother series.

Hank Halsey believeshe’s found the perfect logging crew—complete with cooks—until he discoversKelda Neilson would rather swing an axe than flip eggs. As he sets out to provewomen belong in the kitchen, he’s the one in danger of getting burned.

Strong and stubborn,Kelda Nielsen grew up falling trees and resents any man who believes she’s notcapable, until Hank. He treats her like a lady and has her questioning whatthat means.

As Kelda and Hank’sattraction builds, she hires a cook so she can sneak out and work in the woods.But will her deceit ruin her chance at love or will hardheaded Hank realizeit’s more than his love that puts a sparkle in Kelda’s eye?

Excerpt:

Kelda stood bythe door, a man’s black wool coat buttoned up to her neck and a wool scarfwrapped around her head. Her flushed cheeks shone in the lantern light. Hergaze met his solid and unflappable.

To appease Karl,Hank said as he pulled on his coat, “If Kelda isn’t back in here in fifteenminutes you can come looking for us.”

The door hadn’tfully closed when Dag’s voice cleared the threshold, “I don’t know what you’reworrying about. No man is going to think of Kelda in the way you’re talking.”

Kelda’sshoulders drooped proving she’d heard her brother’s comment. She walked aroundthe corner of the cookhouse to a fallen log at the backside of the building.Hank wanted to catch up to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She was afine woman. Any man would be dang luckyto have her for a wife. He stood in front of her as she sat on the log, herface pointed toward the men’s logging boots on her feet.

Hank crouched infront of Kelda, tipping her face up to read her emotions. “Your brother seesyou only as his sister. You’re a woman any man would be lucky to marry.”

Tears glistenedin her eyes. “I’m the size and body of a man. Men want a small delicatewoman.” She wiped at the tears and herhands clutched his. “Don’t make Far keep me out of the woods. It’s all I have to make me happy.”

Pleading in hereyes and voice sucker punched Hank. “Why would you want to work alongside menin the woods? Women belong in the home.”

“I don’t care towork inside. I love the outdoors and the labor of logging. Don’t keep me out ofthe woods. It’s the one thing I can do well.”

The strong gripof her fingers on his proved her strength. He had no doubt she was a skilledwoodsman…woman. He pried her fingersfrom his hands and held them between his palms. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allowyou in the woods. It isn’t proper for a woman to work like that. And what ifyou prove too weak to handle a job and someone else gets hurt?”

“Ooooo!” Herhands ripped from his grasp and rammed him in the chest. He started tippingbackwards and grabbed the first thing in reach—Kelda’s arms.

He fell backinto the snow dragging Kelda on top of him.

The surprise inher eyes quickly turned to interest as she gazed down into his face. Her bodysprawled across Hank, pressing him into the snow. Even with the heavy clothing, her curves wereevident as her relaxed body molded over his.

Hank pushed thescarf back from her face and stared into amazing eyes that glistened from themoonlight bouncing off the snow. Her gaze searched his.

The rise andfall of her chest quickened.

She licked herlips…

He held her headin his hands. Inch by inch, Hank drew her lips closer, wondering if the heatand passion he’d witnessed in her eyes would be in her kiss.

“Kelda!”

The male voicebroke through the insanity of his actions. Hank rolled, rose to his feet, andpulled Kelda up with him.

This book will be available at all ebook outlets after the 15th.

You can learn more about me and the other Halsey books at my blog; www.patyjager.blogspot.com website; http://www.patyjager.netor on Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/#!/paty.jagerand twitter; @patyjag.