Showing posts with label Night Angel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Night Angel. Show all posts

Friday, January 2, 2015

A Chance Encounter With James Bowie

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
In 1858 Xavier Eyma published a short story about encountering James Bowie while traveling the United States. Since the hero in my first published story, Night Angel, also carried this same knife, I found the encounter very interesting.
One day while traveling the U.S. Eyma found himself in a carriage with three people: a lady, her husband, and a third individual who was wrapped in a cloak and apparently sound asleep. Suddenly an enormous Kentuckian got into the coach. He was smoking a cigar and he cast a glance around him that seemed to say: "I am half hoss and half alligator, a true son of Kentucky, flower of the forests."
Then he puffed out thick clouds of smoke, without any regard for his fellow travelers, and especially for the young lady whom the smoke very evidently made sick. Thus the husband courteously asked the Kentuckian to stop smoking. The latter replied: "I have paid for my seat. I shall smoke as much as I please, and nobody in the world shall stop me."
After saying this, he rolled his eyes fiercely and looked around him with a provocative air as if daring anyone to counter reply.
Eyma hesitated a moment, wondering whether he should intervene, but realized he would have little chance against such an athletic adversary, and thought of the impotence of the law which offered no recourse against him.
It was then the traveler, who had been asleep, calmly unwrapped his cloak and sat up straight. He was a man of medium size, rather frail looking, buttoned from top to bottom. He fixed two piercing gray eyes on the Kentuckian and before pronouncing a single word, reached behind his neck and drew out a long knife, sharp as a razor. "Sir," he said to the Kentuckian, "my name is Colonel James Bowie well known, I believe, in Arkansas and Louisiana. If, within one minute you do not throw your cigar out of the window, I shall stick this knife into your belly just as true as I am going to die someday."
The strange expression in Colonel Bowie's glance was something magnetic and fascinating. The Kentuckian bore it for a few seconds and then he lowered his eyes, took the cigar from his mouth and threw it out of the window.
Colonel Bowie then restored his knife to its peculiar sheath between his shoulders, wrapped himself in his cloak, closed his eyes, went to sleep, and did not say another word during the whole trip.
Since that time, Colonel Bowie's weapon has acquired a sinister celebrity, and its use has become too frequent in the U.S. If on one occasion, that terrible knife performed the good deed of teaching manners to a coarse Kentuckian, it has since then created many mayors, aldermen, and judges. It has become the last argument in many elections in the U.S.A.
Written by Robert E. Pike, found in the May-June, 1955, True West magazine.
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Saturday, February 2, 2013

The Wild West Meets the Old South

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
Doc Holliday being in love with Melanie Wilkes from Gone With the Wind -- legend and literature come together.
When John Henry Holliday was a young man, he and his cousin Mattie Holliday were best of friends. During their teen years the friendship turned to a romance. Because they were first cousins, family members pressured them to end their involvement. Some folks say it was their tragic love affair that sent him West and her into a convent.
Doc and Mattie became close friends after Doc's father remarried just three months after his wife died. Doc was 14 at the time and gravitated toward his uncle, which would have given him more opportunities to see Cousin Mattie. Ten years after Doc left Georgia Mattie entered a convent and became Sister Mary Melanie. Mattie corresponded with Doc all of his life, but ultimately burned the letters exchanged by the two of them after his death.
Mattie's uncle was Margaret Mitchell's great grandfather. Years later, Mattie Holliday became a nun and took the name Sister Melanie. That was how she was known when Margaret Mitchell visited with her as an old woman at St. Joseph's Infirmary in Atlanta, Georgia. Mitchell is said to have asked her if she could name a character after her in the story she was writing, to which Sister Melanie replied, ''Just make her a good person."
Several years ago I was fortunate enough to take a tour through Margaret Mitchell's home in Atlanta. The docent pointed out two photos hanging on the wall -- one was Mattie and the other Doc. All of us tourists appeared surprised to hear of this love affair and how it had such a lasting effect on the two of them. Some have said that losing the love of his life might have contributed to his alcoholism.
For some reason I cannot understand, this story left an everlasting impression on me. How strange a man who became known as a fast gun of the west had loved a gentle lady who became a nun.
http://www.amazon.com/Paradise-Pines-Book-One-ebook/dp/B00909PON0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359675254&sr=1-1&keywords=paisley+kirkpatrick
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/paradise-pines-book-one-paisley-kirkpatrick/1112576086?ean=2940014889667
BLURB: Sassy Amalie Renard, a poker-playing saloon singer, shakes up Paradise Pines, a former gold-rush mountain community by turning the saloon’s bar into her stage. Her amazing voice stirs the passions of the hotel owner, a man who anonymously travels tunnels at night providing help to the downtrodden as the mysterious Night Angel. Declan Grainger agrees to subsidize the building of a music hall to fulfill Amalie's dream, but a bounty for her arrest could spoil his plans. Distrust and jealousy stir flames of malice and revenge threatening to destroy their town. Drawing from past experiences, Declan and Amalie turn to each other to find a way to save the community.
An ebook copy of Night Angel will be given to one visitor who comments. Please leave an email address.
Paradise Pines Series: Marriage Bargain will be released March 21, 2013
BLURB: The dusty trail of a wagon train leads west, but Darrah Benjamin finds it a pathway to love and forgiveness when an arranged marriage becomes much more than a convenience. Wagon scout Chase challenges her determination with his promise -- she’ll give him her heart and invite him to her bed before they arrive at their destination. Darrah will shape her own destiny and claim a woman’s spirit along the way. Charles Danforth, a scout known as Chase, leads a wagon train of emigrants west through plains plundered by murderers. As an undercover agent of President Polk, he has sworn to stop the massacres. Darrah's inadvertent comment gives him the clue he needs to achieve his assignment. His Sioux blood brother helps Chase end the killings, but almost ruins Chase’s chance of winning Darrah’s heart when he kidnaps her to demonstrate the depth of love Chase has for his wife.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Gold Discovered in 1849

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
The 1849 gold discovery sparked a mass hysteria as immigrants traveled from around the world to what soon would be known as the gold country of California. Digging for gold from early dawn until dusk was a backbreaking job, but the desire to find their fortune in gold drove these miners on. A miner had to find an ounce of gold a day to just break even. Most miners barely found enough for daily expenses.
The gold discovery wrought immense changes upon the land and its people. The peak production of placer gold occurred in 1853. Every year after that, more and more men were in California, but less gold was found. Thousands of disillusioned gold seekers returned home with little to show for their endeavors, glad to escape with their health.
After the boom, many miners -- broke and looking for wages -- headed to San Francisco. Some stayed in the towns that developed during the gold rush. I found this rebuilding of the lives and communities an exciting time in history. Some let disappointment send them into lives of drink and gambling. Others pulled together to rebuild their towns and start businesses, some of which still stand today. Placerville, known as both Dry Diggins and Hangtown during the heydays, still holds onto some of those grand houses, rock buildings, and tunnels zigzagging underneath the town.
Luckily for me, I have this history at my fingertips to inspire my stories. My first book, Paradise Pines Series: Night Angel will be released by Desert Breeze Publishing August 21st. It is a story of a hotel owner who anonymously helps the downtrodden citizens of his community by traveling through the tunnels at night to provide families with goods they need. A vibrant saloon-singing poker player arrives in town and stirs it out of its doldrums with her beautiful voice and colorful costumes.
EXCERPT:
The Scot's insensitive words snapped across her back. Amalie jerked her hands from his grasp and moved behind the chair. She barely controlled the urge to slap his face. "That's the second time you've taken my character to task, Mr. Grainger. Prostitute myself indeed."
Declan got to his feet. Disgust exuded from his powerful gaze. "Woman, you take yourself far too seriously. I did not call you a prostitute. I said--" He stepped back, stared at his feet a moment before speaking again. "You have my apologies. I meant no insult to your character. Buck Thatcher is a dangerous man and must be taken seriously. You and I both know he wanted more than a kiss for the gold nugget."
"I didn't need you to swoop in and protect me. I am not some inexperienced schoolgirl."
He threw up his hands. "My mistake."
He gave her the most pitiful, insincere look she'd ever seen.
"I should have remembered you explained all of this with eloquence outside the saloon tonight, but I couldn't concentrate on your well-chosen words with you barely contained in your black dress."
She caught the mischievous tilt to his lips. She also noticed where his gaze settled. At any other time she'd appreciate the attention, but not under these circumstances. She pulled the soft woolen blanket tighter across her breasts. He baited her, but she couldn't let his comment go. The deliciously handsome man was far too sure of himself and needed to be put in his place.
"Lily Fox doesn't need or want your advice on how to handle Buck Thatcher. She's dealt with worse than the cocksure gambler."
"Not in my presence, you haven't." He moved with slow, but determined steps toward her. "Surely you can find it in your generous heart to take pity on this most humble of men?" He placed his hand over his heart and tapped his fingers. "An uncontrollable desire to protect a woman just bursts outta me when I see her in harm's way."
When he flashed a wide grin, she relaxed her stance. "Oh, you are a charmer, aren't you?"
His low rumbling chuckle shot through her. If she was as smart as she proclaimed, she'd flee from the man's hotel this very night. He was a lot more dangerous than Buck Thatcher ever could be. She feared her defenses might not be strong enough to protect her heart from his more than abundant charm.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Paradise Pines Series: Night Angel

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
August 21, 2012, is a date I will hold in my memory as the day my life-long dream came true. It's the day my first book is published. After 22 years of never giving up on being published, Night Angel, the first of five stories in the Paradise Pines Series, will be released by Desert Breeze Publishing.
In this story set in the 1849 Gold Rush Era, a poker-playing saloon singer tangles with the mysterious Night Angel. She steals his heart the night he robs her the first time.
Sassy Amalie Renard, a poker-playing saloon singer, shakes up Paradise Pines, a former gold-rush mountain community by turning the saloon’s bar into her stage. Her amazing voice stirs the passions of the hotel owner, a man who anonymously travels tunnels at night providing help to the downtrodden as the mysterious Night Angel. Declan Grainger agrees to subsidize the building of a music hall to fulfill Amalie's dream, but a bounty for her arrest could spoil his plans. Distrust and jealousy stir flames of malice and revenge threatening to destroy their town. Drawing from past experiences, Declan and Amalie turn to each other to find a way to save the community.
EXCERPT:
Different colored bottles of whiskey and beer reflected in the mirrors along the wall behind the long wooden bar. Perfect. That's where she'd start her evening.
She slipped off her cape and handed it to Declan. His appreciative gasp brought a smile to her lips. Having men ogle her appearance was hardly new. She'd learned early to use her looks to her advantage. The way Declan's eyes heated with appreciation when he cast a glance at the deep cut of her décolletage reminded her how good it felt to be a woman.
"Now you'll see who I really am."
Declan grabbed her arm. "Don't let them forget you're a lady, Amalie."
She cast him a wicked smile. "The name's Lily Fox. Believe me, honey, Lily's no lady."
She approached a couple of gamblers and leaned over slightly to give them full effect of her daring dress. "Would you mind helping me, gents? I have need of your table for a moment."
The men jumped to their feet in unison, their cards forgotten. Amalie took the nearest man's outstretched palm, stepped onto a chair, over their cards, and up onto the long wooden plank bar.
"Good evening, boys." She strutted along the length of wood, avoiding whiskey glasses and kicking away eager hands. The saloon girl stopped caterwauling. The room went still. She had everyone's attention, just the way Lily liked it.
"Get down, young woman. This ain't no place for you to prance about," the barkeep snarled in outrage.
Ignoring the scowling face with the handlebar mustache, she kicked up her heels. Adding a dance step, she pranced back and forth the length of the makeshift stage. Lily reveled in the whistles and disregarded the uncouth remarks. She was in her element. "My name is Lily Fox, and I'm here to entertain you tonight."
With the flick of her hand, she caught the attention of the stunned piano player. "Play something quick and lively, will you, honey?" She glanced around the room of excited faces and turned on her brightest smile.
My husband and I are so lucky to live in this area where all the excitement happened during the gold rush. The town of Placerville, known as Old Hangtown in 1849, still has some of the same atmosphere of those days. Victorian houses, tunnels under the town, a gold mine, a bar displaying a 'man' hanging by the neck above its front door, amongst some of the old relics. Living in the area I love to write about gives me a chance to experience some of the wild west atmosphere.