Showing posts with label Amazon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amazon. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

WHERE WRITERS GET IDEAS

By Caroline Clemmons



Every author is asked a gazillion times where he/she gets ideas for all his/her stories. People who aren’t writers--ie, normal people--don’t have all these people in their head talking to them. No, writers (at least most of us) aren’t schizophrenics and don’t have disassociative disorder. We have muses.

Muse at work
Muses are wonderful. Yep, and those muses consist of characters who talk to us until we write their story to get them to shut up. Not that we EVER want them to stop talking! Just the loudest ones, the ones who demand their story now, which is why we translate their epic from our muse to the computer as fast as possible. If you’ve ever wondered why an author slips in stories between releases of a series, that may be one reason.

Yesterday, Lauri Robinson said in her excellent post that writers are always writing, even when we are doing totally unrelated tasks. At the same time, we are always acquiring new ideas. Everything we see or hear becomes a “what if” kernel for a story plot.

For instance, on Thursday my friend told me her son, who is working in another state while his wife and daughter remain here, was very ill and had been to the ER. All the time she was relating her son’s experience, the friend part of me deeply sympathized with her. The writer part of me, though, was thinking, "Hey, what a great story idea! This would make such a good book if the heroines were....”

Muses sprinkle
fairy dust ideas
Don’t think I’m callous. I really do sympathize not only with a mother worried about her son, but with the ailing son stuck many states away from home. Terrible situation, but that’s what makes a great story. While sympathizing with her, the situation ignites my muse.

Even when we stare off into the distance, we are writing. This is hard on family members, who sometimes may think we’re not paying attention to the conversation. (We’re probably not.) My husband once asked me what I was staring at each day when I looked at our hay meadow from the breakfast room window. The answer is nothing. It’s just a pleasant scene to observe while I’m thinking, but sometimes I see only what's in my head, not anything real. One of my favorite cartoon comics is an old Shoe strip which shows him with his feet on his messy desk while staring off into space for a couple of frames. He almost looks as if he could be dozing. His nephew comes by and says something to him. Shoe snaps, “Can’t you see I’m writing?”
Fortunately, my husband is a true Hero and realizes my blank stares or semi-doze
states equate working out plots.

Staring into space
can be writing
Author Meg Chittendon said, “Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.”

And we are simply incurable. There is no 12-Step Program for writers. That’s all right with me. There’s nothing I’d rather do than write. Although, I really enjoy having people read my books, especially if they have kind things to say.

One idea source I haven't experienced, but which many others have, is dreams. Some authors have entire books come to them in dreams. Others dream initial ideas. I just sleep. If I've been worrying because a scene doesn't feel right, then sometimes when I awake the next morning, the idea comes to me of what's needed to correct the scene. That's as much as I can claim.

Except for years in Southern California from ten months to age seven, I grew up in Texas. My husband and I live on a small acreage in rural North Central Texas. As early as I can remember, my father talked about his ancestors moving from Georgia to Texas in the 1800's. His stories fueled a love of history, especially Texas history. You can understand why each of my books is primarily set in Texas. In the event you are interested, and I hope you are, here are links to all my books, not just the romances.

Each is available from Amazon at .
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=caroline+clemmons&sprefix=Caroline+Clemmons
Those labeled with TWRP are also available from The Wild Rose Press at
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=638
My page at Smashwords is https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CarolineClemmons

ALMOST HOME - contemporary mystery Amazon, Smashwords
BE MY GUEST contemporary romance Amazon, Smashwords
BRAZOS BRIDE historical romance Book One, Men of Stone Mountain trilogy, Amazon
DIGGING FOR DEATH cozy mystery, book one of Heather Cameron series
Amazon
HAPPY IS THE BRIDE historical novella, Amazon, Smashwords
HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME contemporary romance TWRP
LONG WAY HOME historical novella, Amazon, Smashwords
OUT OF THE BLUE contemporary time travel romantic suspense TWRP
SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME historical novella TWRP
SNOWFIRES contemporary romance, Amazon, Smashwords
THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND historical romance, Book Two, Kincaids
Amazon, Smashwords
THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE historical romance, Book One, Kincaids
Amazon, Smashwords
THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE historical romance TWRP

Thanks for stopping by!
Me with cup of tea, and my cat Bailey
wanting to be petted

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

STETSON , THE BOSS OF THE PLAINS


By Gini Rifkin

Gini Rifkin, Author

          I was delighted when Caroline invited me to quest blog on Sweethearts of the West. Although I have published two Medievals and two Victorians, my first western novella, SPECIAL DELIVERY, was released in May, and I’m thrilled to be heading into cowboy country.

       Brushing up on history of the American West, I felt it was essential to study the Stetson phenomenon. I needed to know if geographically my hero would have access to purchasing one of these hats, and if they were common or even in existence in the time period I chose for my story. I’m a stickler for detail regardless of the era, spend hours researching, and hope the end result is a story that feels real and offers a painless subliminal learning experience.

Here’s what I discovered about……..

                                   THE HAT THAT WON THE WEST

A cowboy without his hat is
simply a man on a horse.

       The concept of a broad-brimmed hat with a high crown worn by a rider on horseback can be seen as far back as the Mongolian horsemen of the 13th century. A tall crown provided insulation, the wide brim, shade. In hot, sunny climates, hats evolved to have extremely wide brims, such as the sombrero of Mexico.

        Before John Batterson Stetson created the “The Boss of the Plains”, men who drove cattle and worked the range sported any number of hat styles. They generally wore whatever headgear was required at their previous profession so it wasn’t unusual to see them in a sailor hat, a beret, derbies, Civil War paraphernalia, and even top hats. None of these were very useful out on the prairie. And luckily this was soon to change and a legend was about to be born.  

A cowboy and his horse are partners


         John Batterson Stetson started his life in East Orange, New Jersey in 1830. His father, Stephen Stetson, was a successful hatter and taught his children the hatting trade. But having developed tuberculosis as a young man, a doctor advised John B. to move west and in 1859 he struck out for St. Joseph, Missouri.

      While there, he tried to join the Union Army in the early 1860’s but was rejected do to his poor health. Undefeated he worked as a bricklayer which went fairly well until the river flooded and washed his business away. At loose ends, he joined a group heading west to the gold fields of Colorado.

      This didn’t “pan out” but during his stay in the mountains, he fashioned a head covering from beaver hides. After a mule driver paid him a $5 gold piece for the hat right off his head, Mr. Stetson, being no fool, decided to refine, manufacture and sell this type of product.

       By 1865 he was back in Philadelphia working in the hat manufacturing trade. A year later the “Boss of the Plains” came into being, and after that, came the front creased Carlsbad, destined to become “the” cowboy style. The Stetson® hat has captured the essence of the west, has become an American icon, and is now an indelible part of western history.
                                                 
 The Stetson®

           The rugged individualism of the West was perfectly represented by a hat that could be shaped differently by each wearer—a punched-in crown, a bended brim, a braided leather band—all were different ways to make a Stetson® one’s own.

         By 1886, Stetson owned the world’s biggest hat factory. Situated in Philadelphia it employed nearly 4,000 workers. And by 1906, the factory was putting out about 2 million hats a year. John B. transformed hat making from a manual to a mechanized industry by introducing iron cutting and shaping machines, and by improving quality control. He was also among the first U.S. tycoons to offer benefits to reward workers for hard work. He dispensed free health care to employees and gave shares in his company to valued workers. As a philanthropist, he founded Stetson University in Deland, Florida, and built a Philadelphia hospital.

Stetson's Hat Factory

             Inside the cowboy hat is a memorial bow to past hatters, who developed brain damage from treating felt with toxic mercury (which gave rise to the expression "Mad as a Hatter"). The bow on the inside hatband at the rear of the hat resembles a Skull and crossbones. Early hatters used mercury in the making of their felt. Their bodies absorbed mercury, and after several years of making hats, the hatters developed violent and uncontrollable muscle twitching. The ignorance of the times caused people to attribute these strange gyrations to madness, not mercury.

Other Hat Types offered by Stetson


                    SINGING COWBOYS IN TEN GALLON HATS


         In the 19th century and first half of the 20th century, a hat was an indispensable item in every man’s wardrobe. Stetson focused on expensive, high-quality hats that represented both a real investment for the working cowboy and a statement of success for the city dweller.

       Early on, Stetson® hats became associated with legends of the West, including “Buffalo Bill” Cody, Calamity Jane, Will Rogers, and Annie Oakley. It is said that George Custer rode into the Battle of Little Big Horn wearing a Stetson®. Later on, Western movie cowboys were quick to adopt the Stetson®. Many were drawn to the largest most flamboyant styles available. Tom Mix, an early-20th century movie star, wore a ten gallon hat (my Mom rode in his car).

Tom Mix in a Ten Gallon Stetson

      Texans were known for their preference for the "Ten Gallon," model, possibly so named for its enormous crown which at least appeared to be able to hold ten gallons were it to be dipped into a stream and used as a pail. An early Stetson® advertising image, a cowboy dipping his hat into a stream to provide water for his horse, symbolized the Cowboy hat as an essential part of a stockman’s gear.

         According to Win Blevins' DICTIONARY OF THE AMERICAN WEST (p388), the term "ten-gallon" has nothing to do with the hat’s liquid capacity, but derives from the Spanish word galón (braid), ten indicating the number of braids used as a hat band.
 
A cowboy was seldom without his hat

         The first American law-enforcement agency to adopt Stetson’s western hat as part of their uniform was the Texas Rangers. In the Second Boer War, the flat brimmed Stetson® became the standard issue of the second Canadian Contingent, becoming recognized throughout the British Empire as a symbol of Canada. Canadian police, The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) Red Serge dress uniform includes a Stetson® with a flat brim.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police
adopted flat brimmed Stetsons®


     John B. created not only a hat but an image, a daydream inducing piece of clothing that has survived into the 21st century. A cowboy today might carry a GPS gizmo on his belt rather than an 1851 Colt Navy, but the hat is still the same. Tonight I'll be dreaming of Stetsons® and the men who wear them!

Don't know if this is a Stetson®,
don't care!

            My late husband Gary and I spent many years re-enacting the Mountain Man Era, attending rendezvous and making our own clothes accouterments, and foofaraws. It was a brilliant learning experience for my writer’s treasure trove of sights, sounds, smells, and just plain old tales of adventures.

Gary and Gini Rifkin

       For me, the road to publication has been long and arduous, yet well worth the tears and effort. My best advice, if I dare presume to give any, would be to rise out of the ashes of your rejection letters, and like the heroines in your books, don’t give up. And write not only what you know, but what you love. Never let age determine your dreams. My first romance was released one month before my 60th birthday.            
    Please visit www.ginirifkin.com and http://ginirifkin.blogspot.com                

SPECIAL DELIVERY only $1.99
At Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/Special-Delivery-Love-Letters-ebook/dp/B00801Q3RK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1339978207&sr=1-1&keywords=Gini+Rifkin

 and The Wild Rose Press
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=176_146&products_id=4838

and other online stores.



Clover City, Colorado—1888

      A mysterious letter and the drop-dead handsome town marshal, are the last things Mariah expects to find making rounds as a midwife.

      Mariah McAllister plans to be married before her next birthday. Too bad Marshal Virgil Kincaid barely knows she’s alive. Not one to give up easily, she’s determined to show him she has an abiding passion for more than her work.

     Virgil Kincaid loved a woman once—after she broke his heart, he spent three years in prison. Women can’t be trusted, no matter how good they look. He’s sworn off relationships in favor of Saturday night poker games. Life is simple—the way he wants it…until a stranger turns up dead in the road.

     Forced to work side by side with Mariah, Virgil begins to wonder if she might be his second chance at love. As they trade kisses and oh so much more, he’s willing to take the gamble. But when a killer threatens their once peaceful town, all bets are off.

SPECIAL DELIVERY Excerpt:
        Virgil Kincaid was a prime cut of man. Over six feet tall, he made Mariah’s five-foot seven height seem less gawky and awkward. And he was built for action, long and lean with broad shoulders—shoulders she hankered to hold onto—and with narrow hips—hips she could easily envision pressed up against her own.

      And then there were his eyes. Gray as the sky in winter, full of secrets, revealing nothing. Virgil had been the town Marshal for nearly three years, yet no one knew where he’d come from or how long he intended to stay. What would it take to light a fire in those eyes and put settling down in his thoughts?

       Her gaze drifted lower and latched onto the front of his Levi’s. A picture of what he might look like naked skittered across her mind and her cheeks grew hot at the imagining.

       “You done lookin?” he asked.

        Her gaze snapped up to meet his and the heat of humiliation replaced the lustful warmth.

        “Yes,” she babbled, “there doesn’t seem to be anything of interest here.”

        “Really?” he challenged, with a cocky grin and a raised brow.

         He stepped closer and stood so near she could smell the man scent of him as she tried to ratchet her breathing down to a more normal rate.

        “You’re a very unusual woman, Miss McAllister.”

        “Is that good or bad?” she dared to ask.

        “I’m not sure yet.”


Gini Rifkin lives and plays in Colorado where the moon rises over the prairie and the sun sets over the Rocky Mountains. When she's not reading or writing, she's caring for her Noah’s Ark of rescued animals. At present she has a chaotic but happy family of ducks, geese, goats, donkeys and cats. If you see her in a crowd she’ll probably be the one wearing a hat. It’s not quite a fetish but she's working on it.


Sunday, February 26, 2012

AMERICAN INDIAN CAPTIVES

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/

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

ONE MAGIC NIGHT from A 2011 SUMMER COLLECTION



Have any of you ever incorporated your family history into your writing? Do you like to read books that are based, however loosely, on factual happenings?

My mom was the oldest of eleven children. She knew everyone in our family and how they were related. Because she and my dad grew up together in a tiny little town in southeast Oklahoma (their high school had a graduating class of twelve), she also knew quite a lot about his side of the family as well.

But when I was younger, I was not interested in the stories she told me. It was only later, when I was grown and had children of my own, that I began to wonder and ask questions, and by that time, her memory had already begun to decline.

If you have ever read the book, The Education of Little Tree, (by Forrest Carter) or seen the HBO movie, this story might sound familiar. When Andrew Jackson decided that the Indians were to be assimilated into the white man’s world, he put lots of plans into action that would take years to snowball and evolve into what they eventually became—a truly shameful period in the US governmental policies and procedures. One of Jackson’s plans, besides Removal, that was carried through into subsequent presidencies, was the idea of assimilating Native American children in white homes to integrate them more completely. The Native American children were taken from their villages and given to willing white families (along with a tidy little government stipend for their troubles) to raise.

My great-great-great grandfather was one of these children. We don’t know his real name. It was changed when he was delivered to his new “family”, a Presbyterian minister and his wife. Their last name was Walls. So his name was changed to Walls, and he was given the first name, David. Forbidden to speak his language, he was forced to forget all the ways of his People, and dress in white man’s clothing, go to white school. But he was never going to be white, and his place in the world was divided so drastically that he could not fit in anywhere. Eventually, the Rev. Walls sent David to medical school in Missouri. When he returned to the small town where he’d been raised, he was a doctor who rode to his patients on horseback. Later, he married and had children, but it was not a happy union and his son, my great-great grandfather, became an alcoholic whose own children, in turn, left home as soon as they possibly could. My great grandmother, his daughter, married at 13. Her older sister left home one day and never returned. No one ever knew what became of her.

I’ve often thought of these children that were abducted by our cavalrymen, and taken away to their white “families”, forbidden everything familiar and forced to adopt everything new and different, even their speech and childhood games. Can you imagine it? To never be allowed to see your mother and father again. Siblings separated and “given” to different families, their heritage and connection with one another lost forever. How many tears must they have shed? And how lonely and separate they must have felt, how isolated, even into adulthood…so that most of them, I imagine, never were able to fit in anywhere in the world.

My story in the 2011 SUMMER COLLECTION, available through Victory Tales Press, is based loosely on what happened to my long-ago ancestor.

Dr. Shay Logan has just returned to Talihina, Indian Territory, from medical school in Missouri. Shay hopes to settle down and make a life for himself, but how? He doesn’t belong to either world, Anglo or Indian He's made the acquaintance of Katrina Whitworth at the July 4th town social, and the attraction is mutual from the very beginning. Shay begins to have hopes and dreams that may be out of the question…but Katrina seems to have stars in her eyes for him as well. Will she risk everything to be with him? Katrina makes a social blunder, and Shay follows her into the woods to apologize to her, but when they return, Katrina's drunken father humiliates her. To make matters worse, her former beau shows a side of himself she had not seen before. Can Katrina and Shay have a life together that they so badly want? Here’s an excerpt for you.

FROM ONE MAGIC NIGHT:
As his hand started its descent, Katrina turned away. But Shay’s arm shot out, grasping Whitworth’s hand and holding it immobile.

“You will not.”

Three words, quietly spoken, but with a heat that could have melted iron, a force that could have toppled mountains.

Katrina’s father’s face contorted, his teeth bared, finally, as he tried to jerk away. He didn’t utter a word. He stared up into Shay Logan’s eyes that promised retribution, as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he lunged once more, trying to pull free, but Shay still held him locked in a grip of steel. Only when he released that grip was Whitworth freed.

“You presume too much, Doctor Logan, unless you are assuming the care and responsibility of my daughter.”

“Papa! Oh, please!” Katrina felt herself dissolving into a puddle of less than nothing beneath stares of the townspeople of Talihina. What had started as an exciting, beautiful evening had become an embarrassing nightmare. It was torture to think that she was the cause of it all. How she wished she had stayed home with Jeremy as she’d first planned, before Mrs. Howard had volunteered to keep him company.

Now, Papa was saying these things that she knew he would regret later. It was always this way when he drank too much. These accusations had gone beyond the pale of anything he’d ever said before. But Shay Logan wouldn’t realize that. He wouldn’t know that Papa would be sorry tomorrow.

Evidently, there was one thing Shay did recognize, though. She saw the very slight flare of his nostrils as he drew in the scent of alcohol on her father’s breath, and in that instant, there was a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Whitworth,” he said in an even tone. “I will overlook your behavior toward me because of that, but not toward your daughter. She has done nothing, yet you would strike her, and cause her shame.”

“She’s my daughter,” Whitworth replied sullenly.

“But not your property, Whitworth. Never that. You owe her an apology.”

“No, Shay, really—” Katrina began, then as her father whirled to look at her, she broke off, realizing her mistake. ‘Shay,’ she had called him. As if she had known him forever. As if she was entitled to use his given name freely. As if she were his betrothed.

“‘Shay’ is it, daughter? Not, ‘Dr. Logan’? Shay.” He spit the words out bitterly. He drew himself up, looking Shay in the face. “I’ll not be apologizing to her—or to you. And I’ll expect nothing less than a wedding before this week’s end. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

Shay had lost any patience he might have harbored. “You understand me, Whitworth. You will not dictate to me, or to your daughter on such matters of the heart. As I say, the alcohol has got you saying things you’re going to regret, and—”

“Threatening me, are you? Threatening me?”

“Truman.” Jack Thompson stepped out of the crowd and smoothly came to stand beside Katrina. “Let’s put this…unfortunate incident…behind us, shall we?” He confidently tucked Katrina’s hand around his arm. “I can see that the church auxiliary ladies have almost got everything set up for this wonderful Independence Day meal—” he frowned at Mrs. Beal, nodding at the picnic tables behind her. She jumped, motioning the other ladies to resume the preparation.

He gave a sweeping glance around the group of onlookers. “I, for one, am ready to eat! How about you all?”

Katrina was swept along at his side as he walked toward the tables, speaking to acquaintances and friends, laughing and…and seething with tense anger the entire time. She could feel it in his body, with every step he took and the tightness of his grip as he covered her hand with his. Katrina glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shay, but the crowd blocked her view.

“Smile, my dear,” Jack gritted into her ear. “I’m hoping we can still salvage your virtue, no matter what happened, really, between you and the good doctor. If I see him near you again, I’ll kill him.”

BUY LINKS
Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66862
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/victorytalespress
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/VTPanthologies

Lulu:
http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/2011-summer-collection-anthology-sweetsensual/16048225
http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=55332464

Here's the link at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00564A820
I WILL BE GIVING AWAY COPIES OF A 2011 SUMMER COLLECTION TO TWO LUCKY COMMENTERS! JUST LEAVE ME A COMMENT WITH YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS AND I WILL DRAW WINNERS SOMETIME AFTER 8:00 TONIGHT!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

SEDUCTION, Now Available at Reduced Price


I’m happy to let everyone know that my debut novel, Seduction, is now on sale for Kindle at Amazon at $3.99.

In Seduction, business entrepreneur, Cole MacPherson, lives and works in a small town in the old west. This particular town is similar to towns described to me by my grandmother when I was growing up. Just as we enjoy staying in a nice hotel while traveling, people back in the late 1800’s enjoyed staying in beautifully appointed and gracious inns and hotels available in some towns.

Sometimes I like to center my stories around an incident from my family history, or historical events that influenced my family. In Seduction, the heroine’s back story is based on events in Texas following the Civil War. At that time, drifters banded together and raided farms and ranches for livestock and valuables that they sold or used for their own benefit.

Here’s the back cover blurb for Seduction:

They challenged the town and each other with their forbidden affair. Belinda Rose is two people. On stage, she’s a confident vocalist who entertains her audiences. Alone, she longs for a secure home and her own opera house where she can entertain or book others to perform. She carries with her the painful memories of her past, but won’t be denied her future. Can her love for a handsome businessman derail her plans?

Cole MacPherson has become a wealthy entrepreneur in spite of his loveless childhood. Believing he doesn’t know how to love, he seeks power instead. What a shock when a beautiful singer knocks him for a loop. Could he learn to love? Does he dare?

I hope you’ll enjoy reading Seduction as much as I enjoyed writing this story.

What’s the most interesting thing you’ve found out about the west? Where would you like to visit in the west?

Jeanmarie Hamilton
http://www.JeanmarieHamilton.com