Atlanta, RWA, Margaret Mitchell, oh my! ~Tanya Hanson

Okay, I made it home from RWA in Atlanta without melting. I’d been warned about the humidity, but it wasn’t so bad. Honest. And I even managed a bit of sightseeing. I mean, any self-respecting romance writer simply must visit the Margaret Mitchell House.

Actually it was in a small, first floor apartment inside this house where Margaret decided to “try writing a book” while healing up from a foot injury that kept her from her newspaper reporter job.

Hmmm. Try writing a book? The book of all fiction books? The first book I tried writing is, well, I think it’s stuffed in the attic somewhere. Those were the days when that dinosaur called “the typewriter” didn’t save or print anything. No matter, the tale is garbage. But Margaret’s typewriter can be worshipped today in the apartment. It might be a reasonable facsimile thereof, though. Nonetheless, the miracle machine produced her One and Only Book. Sheesh.

She wrote the last chapter first. When a publisher visited, wanting to see her work, she first refused. Then gathered up the manilla envelopes stuffed throughout the place, each one holding a chapter.

Talk about a pantser. Oh, a pantser who never got rejected. Sheesh some more.

Supposedly some parts of the book are autobiographical. A suitor with the initials C.H. did die in the war. (WWI)  She married one man while in love with another, hubby’s best friend. (No matter, it all worked out.) She didn’t have kids because, well, Scarlett didn’t think much of motherhood either. Remember her little unwanted Wade and Ella? I always thought SO MUCH of Rhett for liking those kids.

Of course I was unable to resist purchasing the massive hardback copy as a souvenir. I think it added six pounds to my luggage weight, but the airport didn’t say a thing.

Oh, the day I visited was a first-rate, hot Atlanta day. Therefore, I also purchased a MM bottle of water proudly wearing the taglline “I’ll Never be Thirsty Again.”

Good times.

All right, today you must answer this gut-wrenching question in order to get in a name draw for a PDF or Kindle copy of my latest release, Midnight Bride. Who’s your LEAST favorite character in GWTW? (If I’d said favorite, y’all would pick Melanie. I decided to kick things up a notch.) And please tell me why.

Now, about Midnight Bride. This is a couple who does give a damn about each other. Forced to marry or else lose the ranch they both think they own, Jed and Carrie fight off falling in love while she searches for her late granddaddy’s will. Hoping to prove her bridegroom is an imposter. And of course deep down, she doesn’t want any such thing...  

Sigh.

Excerpt

   He stood in the doorway, hatless just like he’d been in the mercantile. And just as breathtaking.  In one hand he held a bunch of Miss Mattie Price’s iceberg roses tied with a lavender bow.

     From the other hand hung a hatbox from Gosling’s Mercantile. The lilac shawl she had admired was draped over his forearm.

     Without a word, he walked over to her and laid the shawl gently across her shoulders. She had stopped breathing. His eyes locked with hers, and while she couldn’t read the message in his gaze, she found she couldn’t turn her own away. When he held the flowers to her determinedly, she had no choice but to take them.

     “Take off that mourning bonnet,” he told her in such a way that it didn’t seem like an order. While she did so, he opened the hatbox.

     Within a half minute, the beautiful purple chapeau she had fingered lovingly not fifteen minutes ago rested on her head. He tied the bow jauntily under her chin, then all but snapped his heels together as he stood in front of her. 

     “I’m Jed Jones,” he announced. “Your bridegroom.” 

     Carrie’s lips opened but no words came out. Not knowing what to say or what else to do, she untied the bonnet’s bow.  He never stopped looking at her. From the corner of her eye, she could see the older men in half-standing postures like they hoped to escape any second. However, she knew them well, knew they wouldn’t leave her all alone.

     Suddenly she found her voice, willing it not to tremble.      

     “My bridegroom? I beg your pardon. What on earth are you saying?” She turned toward the judge. “Is this about that ‘notorious’ authentic document?

     Judge Jacobson was nodding, somewhat defeated, while the sheriff pulled at his scrawny beard.

     When neither spoke, her supposed bridegroom took up the call.

     “It’s true, Miss Zacaria Smith. If you don’t marry me by midnight tonight, the Lazy J-Z will be deeded to the Mother of Mercy Orphanage outside San Antone.”

     Then he took her hand, placing his lips against the inside of her wrist.

http://tinyurl.com/m9p63sj      Amazon

http://tinyurl.com/k8knsw5       The Wild Rose Press

www.tanyahanson.com

Old West Towns

by Anna Kathryn Lanier

As usual for me…here it is the night before my post is due and I’m just now writing it. No matter how much I promise to get it done earlier, I don’t seem to do it. I guess I like deadlines.

So, with my deadline looming before me, I have decided to write about the Old West Town, using as a reference HOW THE WEST WAS WON – THE WILD WEST by Bruce Wexler.

The look and feel of the old west town is very familiar to us, thanks to Hollywood.  We can easily imagine the dusty streets, the wooden boardwalks, the hitching posts with their horses.  Wexler says that “thousands of Western towns sprang up in the region as frontier life developed.  They grew up at railheads, along cattle trails, near gold fields and silver mines and around military forts.”  And, sometimes, they closed down just as quickly – when the mines played out or the military moved on or the ranchers found other ways to get their cattle to market.

Yet, while they thrived, the towns were hustle and bustle places, usually each with all the same commerce.  Often the first place to open was the saloon, which generally served as a town meetinghouse, too.  Wexler tells us that Brown’s Hole, which opened in 1822 near the Wyoming-Colorado-Utah border “was the first drinking house that became known as a saloon. It catered to the region’s fur trappers.” Saloons were frequently disproportionate to the town’s population, with, for example, Livingston, Montana having at least 33 saloons for its population of 3,000.  In addition to serving whiskey, beer and other spirits, saloons also served up women, soiled doves, usually one for every one hundred men.

While the saloon was an important and prominent business in any Western town, the general store was equally important. Without the general store it would be nearly impossible for a town to get off the ground, Wexler writers.  “Depending on the location of the town, the store would stock farm supplies, mining equipment, or cowboy gear. They also carried basic foodstuffs and seeds to get the ‘sodbuster’ farmers started….” Because they were often a monopoly in the area, store owners were able to charge exorbitant prices, which in turn made them both rich and unpopular with townfolk.

Other businesses established in frontier towns included banks, hotels, restaurants, gunsmiths, liveries, blacksmiths and the local jail.  As wives, mothers and sisters moved into towns, the West became more civilized. Educated women came to teach in schools.  Doctors came to practice their skills. Ministers came to spread the Word of God. So, schools, hospitals and churches were built.

People came West.  Towns grew. Some stayed, some faded away into history. If you’d like to visit a real life Old West Town, check out this website.

What business do you think was most essential for a Western Town?

Anna Kathryn Lanier
Romance Author, A GIFT BEYOND ALL MEASURE

http://aklanier.com/

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

An Outlaw Meets a Grisly End

"Black Jack" Ketchum as a young man.
(Image: University of New Mexico)

“Can’t you hurry this up a bit? I hear they eat dinner in Hades at twelve sharp, and I don’t aim to be late.” —Black Jack Ketchum

Whether or not he aimed to be late, Thomas Edward “Black Jack” Ketchum missed the dinner bell by more than an hour on April 26, 1901. In fact, his original 9 a.m. appointment on the gallows was delayed by more than four hours while authorities tried to ensure Ketchum’s execution was both humane and permanent.

They got the permanent part right.

The youngest of five children, Ketchum was born in San Saba County, Texas, on Halloween 1863. His father, a prosperous farmer and rancher, died when Black Jack was five years old; his mother when he was ten. Because the family’s property went to the eldest son, Black Jack and his other brother, Sam, made their living cowboying in Texas. The work never suited either of them. By 1890, both had left the state.

By 1892, they were robbing trains.

Between 1892 and 1899 the Ketchum gang liberated payrolls and other large sums of cash from trains passing through the Four Corners region of the Southwest. Black Jack and Sam led a group of other young men, some of whom were frequent denizens of the infamous Hole in the Wall. All of them were described as well-mannered and well-dressed, riding good horses, and flashing plenty of money. In 1895 and 1896, the gang included Wild Bunch regulars Kid Curry and his brother Lonnie Curry, who reportedly departed after a dispute over the division of proceeds from a holdup.



(Image: Herzstein Memorial Museum,
Union County, New Mexico)

In 1897 alone, the Ketchums heisted more than $100,000: $42,000 from a Wells Fargo safe outside Langtry, Texas, in May and another $60,000 in gold and silver at Twin Mountain, New Mexico Territory, in September.

Two years later, in July 1899, Sam Ketchum partnered with Wild Bunch members Will Carver and William Ellsworth “Elza” Lay to rob the Twin Mountain train a second time. A posse chased the outlaws into Turkey Creek Canyon near Cimarron, New Mexico, where Sam was wounded in a shootout. He died of his wounds in the Santa Fe Territorial prison a few weeks later.

In August 1899, unaware of his older brother’s fate, Black Jack lost his right arm to a shotgun blast fired by the conductor of a train he attempted to rob alone. “The handsome train robber” didn’t resist when either a posse or a railroad crew (there’s a dispute) found him near the tracks the following morning.

At trial, Black Jack was sentenced to hang, but the date of the execution was delayed more than once by arguments about where final justice should take place, since several towns wanted the honor. Finally, reacting to a rumor that the old gang planned to break Black Jack out of jail, the hanging became the center of a carnival in Clayton, Union County, New Mexico. Despite an extended debate about the length and strength of the rope necessary for the deed, something went horribly wrong.



"Black Jack" Ketchum, center. (Image: National Archives)

Shortly after 1 p.m., the scaffold's trapdoor opened and Ketchum, 37, plunged through. He died immediately, decapitated by the fall.

Black Jack Ketchum bears the dubious distinction of being the only man sentenced to die in New Mexico for “felonious assault upon a railway train.” Apparently his botched execution set the residents of Union County back a mite, because Black Jack also was the only man ever hanged in Union County. Until serial murderer Eva Dugan suffered the same fate at the Pinal County, Arizona, prison in 1930, Black Jack Ketchum was the only person in the U.S. who literally lost his head to a hangman’s noose ordered by a court.



A journalist in real life, Kathleen Rice Adams also is an editor and ghostwriter of non-fiction books. A rabble-rousing Texan to the bone, she much prefers romancing fictional western antiheros one protagonist at a time.

GONE TO TEXAS

 

I'm so excited to be a permanent member of Sweethearts of the West, and to be affiliated with such a wonderfully talented group of authors. Thank you!

In relation to my previous post on family and their immigration to the Southwest and Texas, I bring you a post on the phrase, Gone To Texas, and a brief story on my family's beginnings in Texas.

 

 

Gone to Texas, often abbreviated GTT, was a phrase used by Americans immigrating to Texas in the mid-1800's. They moved to Texas for many reasons, often to escape debt incurred during the Panic of 1819, to start over again or to begin for the first time, to get land or to look for adventure as well as for new fortunes. Obtaining "land" seemed to be the driving force for most of those who came to Texas. People became so obsessed with the hopes promised and the romance of Texas that "Gone to Texas" or "G.T.T." was often written on the doors of abandoned houses or posted as a sign on fences.

After Davy Crockett was narrowly defeated for re-election in Tennessee, he famously said, 

 

My ancestor, Amon McCommas, was one so obsessed. He came to Peter's Colony in December 1844 from Virginia, stopping for repairs successively in Kentucky, Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri. Accompanying him in his journey was his wife, Mary, their grown children, James B., John (my g-g-grandfather and a soldier in the Mexican war), Elisha, William M., Amon, Jr., Stephen B. (died a soldier in the city of Mexico, December 24, 1847), Rosa, Armilda, and Mary E.

Also along for the adventure were Amon's two brothers, Stephen B. and John C., and a sister-in-law Mrs. Lavinia McCommas and her children. 

Circulars printed for distribution and posted in public places advertising the rich lands of the Red River and Trinity Colony in Texas lured many to this area of North Central Texas. One advertisement stated that the Peters Colony was “peculiarly adapted to the successful growth of cotton and tobacco,” and, “Indian corn, rye, barley, oats, sweet and Irish potatoes, peas, beans, melons, figs, garden vegetables and all the fruits.” Circulars further claimed that “the country abounds in wild game, such as buffalo, deer wild turkies, prairie hens, quails, and grey squirrels, and the forest with wild honey.” With advertisements such as this, it is easy to see why so many families decided to emigrate to Texas.

Every family settling in Texas during this period was to receive 640 acres of land and each single man 320 acres, provided they lived on and work the land for three years.

I'm in awe of so many families, not just my own, starting out with their meager belongings to travel hundreds, sometimes thousands, of miles to a complete unknown. When the McCommas' reached their destination, Peter's Colony, they set up camp on the banks of the Trinity River, where Elder Amon McCommas preached the first Sermon.
 

Amon settled, with his family, five miles northeast of where the city of Dallas now stands. At that time, Dallas contained only five or six families, settled along the banks of the river.  He was a Campbellite preacher (Deciples of Christ Minister) and he founded the Christian Church of Dallas in 1845 with twelve members. In 1846, Amon chaired the meeting that formed Dallas County and was later elected as the first Chief Justice of the Dallas County Commissioners Court. He was a farmer who owned the first "tread - mill "(grist mill powered by mules) in Dallas. He served as president of the first county fair, which later became the State Fair of Texas.

This is how the families of my Texas Code Series, the Bennings and McTiernans, came to be in Texas.  By the 1850’s, the Peters Land Company was reorganized under the name of the Texas Emigration and Land Company, which offered 320 acres to married men and 160 to single men, plus a "free cabin, seed, and musket balls.”







































Ian Benning and Dermot McTiernan came to Texas from Ireland in 1862, received their land, fought with Texas in the Civil War, then went back to Ireland, married and returned to Texas in 1875. These two novellas are works in progress that I hope to have ready in the next couple of months. Above are their covers that I'm excited to share.





In the meantime, my new release, CODE OF HONOR, Texas Code Series, Book One, is available for Kindle and print on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/muln4r9, and on http://createspace.com for print.





Find me on my website: http://carracopelin.com

Facebook: http://facebook/carracopelin

Twitter: http://twitter/CarraCopelin

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/mfynmj2

Thanks for stopping by today. Leave a comment and say howdy, I love hearing from y'all!

Carra

 

Guest Kat Flannery and Lakota Honor

Please welcome our guest!

While I was researching for LAKOTA HONOR I needed to know how a coal mine operated back in the 1800’s. I came across some pretty interesting stuff, and being an avid researcher with a love for any kind of history, I obtained more information than I needed. Here is what I learned.

The mines back in the 1800’s were not built like they are today. In fact most of the smaller mines back then didn’t have tunnels leading into the mine, but a shaft instead. The shaft was a hole blown into the mountain that went straight down. These were deep and dangerous pits that could be a challenge lowering men in and out of the mine. An ore bucket was crafted and used to haul men, equipment and coal in and out of the mine.  Large enough to carry more than one person, the bucket could conveniently carry two more miners if they stood on the rim and held onto the rope. With the hole in most shafts only a little wider than the ore bucket itself you could imagine how scary it would be riding down on one of them.

The picture with the miners in the bucket was taken in 1895 at the Hubert Mine in Nevadaville, Colorado

 

Bestselling Western Romance author, Kat Flannery takes you on an exciting journey with the release of her new Historical Paranormal Romance, Lakota Honor.

 

Fate has brought them together, but will a promise tear them apart?

In the small town of Willow Creek, Colorado, Nora Rushton spends most of her days locked up in her home with a father who resents her and fighting off unwanted marriage proposals from the wealthy Elwood Calhoun. Marked as a witch, Nora must hide her healing powers from those who wish to destroy all the witkowin—crazy women. What she doesn't know is that a bounty hunter is hot on her trail.

Lakota native Otakatay has an obligation to fulfill. He has been hired to kill the witkowin. In a time when race and difference are a threat and innocence holds no ground, courage, love and honor will bring Nora and Otakatay together as they fight for their freedom. Will the desire to fulfill his promise drive Otakatay to kill Nora? Or will the kindness he sees in her blue eyes push him to be the man he once was?

 

Reviews:

"Transport back to the old west with this paranormal historical, and its alpha hero, and a heroine hiding her secret talents."

—Shannon Donnelly, author of the Mackenzie Solomon Urban Fantasy series

"Ms. Flannery doesn’t shy away from writing gritty scenes or about unpleasant topics…That’s what good writing is all about—bringing out strong emotions in a reader."

—Peggy L. Henderson, bestselling author of the Yellowstone Romance Series

 "Those who relish the conflict of a heroic half-breed trapped between the white man's world and the Indian will fall in love with LAKOTA HONOR."

—Cindy Nord, author of No Greater Glory

 "LAKOTA HONOR weaves a fast paced and beautiful prose that lures you through every chapter and leaves you wanting more."

—Erika Knudsen, paranormal author of Monarchy of Blood

~~*~~*~~ 

Excerpt:
PROLOGUE
Colorado Mountains, 1880

 The blade slicing his throat made no sound, but the dead body hitting the ground did. With no time to stop, he hurried through the dark tunnel until he reached the ladder leading out of the shaft.

         He’d been two hundred feet below ground for ten days, with no food and little water. Weak and woozy, he stared up the ladder. He’d have to climb it and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wiped the bloody blade on his torn pants and placed it between his teeth. Scraped knuckles and unwashed hands gripped the wooden rung.

The earth swayed. He closed his eyes and forced the spinning in his head to cease. One thin bronzed leg lifted and came down wobbly. He waited until his leg stopped shaking before he climbed another rung. Each step caused pain, but was paired with determination. He made it to the top faster than he’d thought he would. The sky was black and the air was cool, but fresh. Thank goodness it was fresh.

 He took two long breaths before he emerged from the hole. The smell from below ground still lingered in his nostrils; unwashed bodies, feces and mangy rats. His stomach pitched. He tugged at the rope around his hands. There had been no time to chew the thick bands around his wrists when he’d planned his escape. It was better to run than crawl, and he chewed through the strips that bound his feet instead. There would be time to free his wrists later.

He pressed his body against the mountain and inched toward the shack. He frowned. A guard stood at the entrance to where they were. The blade from the knife pinched his lip, cutting the thin skin and he tasted blood. He needed to get in there. He needed to say goodbye. He needed to make a promise.

 The tower bell rang mercilessly. There was no time left. He pushed away from the rocky wall, dropped the knife from his mouth into his bound hands, aimed and threw it. The dagger dug into the man’s chest. He ran over, pulled the blade from the guard and quickly slid it across his throat. The guard bled out in seconds.

He tapped the barred window on the north side of the dilapidated shack. The time seemed to stretch. He glanced at the large house not fifty yards from where he stood. He would come back, and he would kill the bastard inside.

He tapped again, harder this time, and heard the weak steps of those like him shuffling from inside. The window slid open, and a small hand slipped out.

“Toksha ake—I shall see you again,” he whispered in Lakota.

The hand squeezed his once, twice and on the third time held tight before it let go and disappeared inside the room.

A tear slipped from his dark eyes, and his hand, still on the window sill, balled into a fist. He swallowed past the sob and felt the burn in his throat. His chest ached for what he was leaving behind. He would survive, and he would return.

Men shouted to his right, and he crouched down low. He took one last look around and fled into the cover of the forest.

~~*~~*~~

BIO:

Kat Flannery has loved writing ever since she was a girl. She is often seen jotting her ideas down in a little black book. When not writing, or researching, Kat enjoys snuggling on her couch with a hot chocolate and a great book.

Her first novel, CHASING CLOVERS became an Amazon’s bestseller in Historical and Western romance. This is Kat’s second book, and she is currently awaiting the release of her next, HAZARDOUS UNIONS in September 2013.

When not focusing on her creative passions, Kat is busy with her three boys and doting husband.

BuyLAKOTA HONOR here.
Kat’s website
Kat’s blog

THE TEXAS TWO-STEP AND DANCE HALLS

 www.ciaragold.com

We used to go dancing at the local country western dance hall quite frequently, but since they tore down the hall to make way for a Super Walmart, we haven’t been in a while. Regardless, dancing was something that we both did well and enjoyed, so - I thought I'd comment on the art of Texas two-stepping.

Okay, first of all for those of you that don't dance country, with the two-step, you step twice slow, then twice fast, so - 1, 2 slow, 1, 2, fast. A really good two-stepper doesn't lift his feet, but slides. So perhaps, slide, slide slow, slide, slide fast. That's much better than the bunny hopper. Oh yeah, the hopper is hard to follow. Hop, hop, slow, hop hop fast. I had to dance with a hopper once and yep, only once. My husband, on the other hand, is a great slider.

Now then, there's the hitcher. This is a very uncomfortable move for me because I'm a slider, but heck, I've seen some great hitchers. So what's a hitcher? So glad you asked. A hitcher moves like this: 1, 2, slow, hitch. He hitches his hip up and holds his toe to the ground for the count of the fast 1, 2. It's kind fun to watch them hitch that hip.

I found this entry from a long ago post made about 6 years ago and thought I’d share. Evidently we had a grand ole time;

“Last night we saw it all; hitchers, sliders, two-steppers (thems that don't slide) and hoppers. We also saw an unusual combination that made us both smile a lot. An older couple, older meaning about 20 years older than us, danced almost every dance. They were having a grand time, but he was dancing and trying to lead with a two-step, while she waltzed most of the night and dang if they didn't manage to make it all the way around the floor without tripping. I love to see older folks having fun and dancing. I picture myself in their shoes when I'm their age.”

No one is quite sure when the two-step came into being but it is speculated that he derived from a variety of dances. The most likely dances being the Foxtrot and the One Step. In the 1800s, couples would dance the “valse a deux temps”, which was a two-beat waltz. Some speculate that the two step comes from this two-beat waltz. Whatever the situation, in 1847, writer Henri Cellarius declared that this particular dance be called the two step. Since then, many variations of this dance have come into play.



Waylon Jennings

John Philip Sousa wrote the “Washington Post March” in 1891 and couples discovered this to be a great song to dance the two step to thus making the dance and the song grow in popularity. The advent of record albums and radio broadcastings of Country Western music made it easier for young couples to enjoy dancing. Dance Halls began to pop up in the late 1800s and gave young couples a fun “courting” activity. The term “honky tonk” first appeared in print in 1894 in the Daily Ardmoreite (Ardmore, Oklahoma) and referred to a bar that had a dance floor and a stage for musicians. “Taxi-dance” halls were places where men could pay a small fee to dance with a hostess.

One of the most famous dancehalls in Texas got its start in the 1880s and was rebuilt in the 1920s. By 1967, Luckenbach, Texas was almost a ghost town until it was put on the market and sold to John Russell “Hondo” Crouch and partners, Kathy Morgan and Guich Koock.   John turned the small town into the place where “everybody is somebody.” In 1977, after Hondo had died, Waylon Jennings gave us a song that put Luckenbach on the map; “Luckenbach, Texas (Backto the Basics of Love)”. Even now my toes are tapping to the beat even if it is a waltz beat and not a two step. Maybe I can talk hubby into some dancing this weekend.

Courting in the Old West

              We often hear conflicting stories on a woman’s desire to marry during the Victorian Era. Marriage was a woman’s only means of security, a home of her own, and children. So, with these privileges, came many hardships—being tied to the home, bearing and caring for five to seven children, endless household tasks, and in a sense, being a servant to her husband. Therefore, many women, though desirous of the joys of marriage, had ambivalent feelings regarding the establishment.

              Men, however, had a different outlook on the subject. They viewed marriage as a positive enterprise. Marriage meant sex, pampering, and maid service. For the man trying to ranch or farm, marriage meant someone to help him work the land as well as cook, care for the home, and any children born to them. Often the man was a widower and married just to provide his children with a mother. Love wasn’t a prerequisite. A couple was lucky if respect grew into affection.

             Though we realize the above was probably true for the majority of couples, there had to be exceptions. If not, how would writers be able to write those wonderful western historical love stories, the ones with strong, independent women and tough men who weren’t afraid to show their softer side? True, many women had cruel husbands who saw their wives as baby machines and servants, and often abused them. But I believe there were just as many men who adored their wives, who wanted a wife to work alongside them as an equal.

              So, how did men and women meet, get acquainted, fall in love, and marry on the frontier in the 1800s? Many met at church, church socials, weddings, corn husking bees, barn raisings, and other socials that usually involved food, music, and dancing. Courting in the old West usually took place at an older age for girls than it did back east. Women were usually in the early twenties when they married. Men married in the middle to late twenties.

               Public displays of affection, like kissing at corn husking bees, were more acceptable in the old West than in the east, especially during the earlier part of the century when women were in scarce supply. For dates, the couple took walks, took the buggy or wagon out for picnics, took horseback rides, hayrides, cuddled in the hayloft, and danced at socials.

             For men in areas with few women, there were subscriptions to heart-and-hand clubs. The men received newspapers with information about women they could correspond with. Often photographs were included. Over a period of correspondence, the man might convince the woman to join him in the West and marry. Other men found their spouses as picture brides. They might see the picture of a friend’s sister or cousin and invite them to join them in marriage.

              There was also the early custom of bundling, whereby the courting couple were each bundled into a blanket or sack tied at the neck and allowed to share the same bed. Often times a long board was placed down the center of the bed. This allowed the two to talk all night and some cuddling but no sexual intercourse. The custom was more common in the New England states though practiced some in the west.

              In 1849, Eliza Farnham encouraged women to travel to California to meet men and marry. Since only two women accompanied her, Eliza’s efforts weren’t considered successful. Later, Acer Mercer organized two different trips to take women to Washington to become brides to the men living there. Do you remember the 1968-1970 television show Here Comes The Brides? Three brothers risk their logging business to bring 100 women to Seattle to live for a year and hopefully become wives and remain to help settle the territory.

             One of my favorite musicals is Seven Brides for Seven

Brothers.  Adam, the oldest brother, reads The Rape of the Sabine Women, to his younger brothers inciting them to kidnap their brides from town. When researching the story, it's made clear that no actual rape took place. During the founding of Rome by Romulus, the Romans needed wives and tried to negotiate with the Sabines. When they made no progress, they abducted the women and promised the Sabines the women would live in honorable wedlock, share their property and have civil rights.

             History is loaded with stories to tempt our imaginations. Happy Writing!

Linda
www.lindalaroque.com
http://www.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.com