Buffalo Soldiers on the Texas Frontier

By Celia Yeary

Buffalo Soldiers  originally were members of the U.S. 10th Cavalry Regiment of the United States Army, formed on September 21, 1866 at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

"Buffalo Soldiers" was the name given by the Plains Indians to the four regiments of African-Americans and more particularly to the two cavalry regiments, that served on the frontier in the post-Civil War army. White officers commanded the black enlisted men, with the exception of one African American commander, Henry O. Flipper.

RE-ENACTMENT AT FORT DAVIS, TEXAS

 From 1866 to the early 1890s the buffalo soldiers served at a variety of posts in Texas, the Southwest and the Great Plains. They overcame prejudice from within the army and from the frontier communities they were stationed in, to compile an outstanding service record. Often  they performed routine garrison chores, patrolled the frontier, built roads, escorted mail parties, and handled a variety of difficult civil and military tasks.

They also distinguished themselves in action against the Cheyenne, Kiowa, Comanche, Apache, Sioux, and Arapaho Indians.

 In 1997, a movie made for TV titled "Buffalo Soldiers, starred  Danny Glover. The fact based story told about the all-black US Cavalry Troop H which protected the Western territories in post Civil War times. The story focuses on the troops' attempts to capture an Apache warrior named Vittorio who slaughters the settlers in New Mexico. The film examines the racial tensions that existed between the black soldiers and some of the white soldiers and the truths about the Indian invaders.

BOOK

At the end of the Civil War, thousands of black soldiers who had participated faced unemployment and homelessness. The most intriguing black who looked at the military as a source of income and security happened to be a woman. Cathay Williams , the future female Buffalo Soldier, decided it was much better than infrequent civilian unemployment. She said, "I wanted to make my own living and not be dependent on relations or friends."

Cathay Williams  caught a break when recruiting efforts concentrated on filling quotas with little regard for the recruit's capability and soldiering skills. The army surgeon might have examined Cathay superficially, or not at all. William Cathay, the new recruit, was declared "fit for duty", thus giving assurance of her place in history as the only documented female Buffalo Soldier, and as the only African-American woman who served in the U.S. army prior to the 1948 law allowing women to serve.

CATHAY WILLIAMS

Cathay became ill and left her regiment. When she learned she was being hunted for desertion, she simply donned dresses and changed her name back to Cathay Williams.

~*~*~*~

The Buffalo Soldiers had the lowest desertion rate in the army, though their army posts were often in the worst part the west. Official reports show these soldiers were frequently subjected to the harshest of discipline, racist officers, poor food, equipment, and shelter.

Regiments of Buffalo Soldiers fought in the country's wars until 1951 when the last African American unit was desegregated.

~*~*~*~Thank  you for visiting Sweethearts of the West.
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           

Bragging Rights...Tanya Hanson

One of my favorite Christmas songs has long been Amy Grant's "Grown up Christmas List." Well, I get weepy easily, but it's one of those songs that really starts the waterworks, especially during the holidays. Mostly because I have some really wing-nut relatives, I like to change a couple of words so that the lyrics can easily pertain to a family in need.

Do you remember me?

I sat upon your knee.

I wrote to you with childhood fantasies.

Well, I'm all grown up now

And still need help somehow.

I'm not a child

But my heart still can dream.

So here's my lifelong wish,

My grown-up Christmas list.

Not for myself

But for a family (world) in need:

(Chorus)

No more lives torn apart,

That fights (wars) will never start

And time would heal all hearts.

Everyone would  be (have) a friend

And right would always win,

And love would never end.

This is my grown-up Christmas list.

So....when I started my latest release Right to Bragg, the fourth book in my Hearts Crossing Ranch series, I knew from the one-paragraph synopsis on which I'd sold the story that the heroine Tiffany Vickers is a woman alone. Abandoned. Dealing with wing-nuts of her own and trying to find her way.  Cowboy Bragg Martin uses his own faith to help guide her…even as he struggles with guilt of his own. As  I plotted all the why’s and wherefore’s, the setting just called out that it needed to be Christmastime. The time of hope and healing, reunion and peace.

My latest, released 11/11/11!

I hope you enjoy Tiffany’s falling both in faith and love during a picture-perfect Christmas on that fictional little ranch, Hearts Crossing, where everybody loves to come home.

BLURB:

Disowned by her family, Tiffany Vickers faces a lonely Christmas and takes great comfort in the baby boy in her care. Her faith in tatters, she guards her heart against the baby's uncle, handsome cowboy Bragg Martin, a man with baggage of his own. While Bragg longs to open his heart and family to the lovely nanny, he doesn't understand her interest in his arch enemy. Saving a man's life and saving Tiffany's faith bring the couple together…and home to Hearts Crossing Ranch. 

EXCERPT:

     Tiffany got up for another cup of coffee, Matty’s eyes watching her every move.

     “He sure notices you,” Bragg remarked as the baby drained the bottle.

     “Yeah. We bonded right off. I’m so glad about it.” As she’d made a snap decision just then, she rushed on. “I left behind my precious nephew. I guess in my psyche somewhere I figured maybe nanny to Matty might help ease that hole in my heart.”  Gently she rubbed her hand over Matty’s head, the edge of her hand tugging at Bragg’s shirt and causing a funny havoc. Mostly though he listened to her pain.

     She sank back down into a kitchen chair, resting her cheek in her hand. “I was with Connor from the moment he was born. Paul and Diana wanted me there. Then things went haywire. It was my fault. You talk about forgiveness, but there isn’t any in this case. And I miss that little boy. Oh, I miss him so. I need him. His love was unconditional, you know. He’s three now. I can’t let him forget me.”

     Bragg’s heart tugged at the agony on her face, and Matty’s little hand flailed. Tiffany took it at once. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

     “I’ve been disowned, so, yeah, Bragg. It’s that bad.” 

www.tanyahanson.com

www.petticoatsandpistols.com

Bloomers: The Downfall Of Womanhood and All Things Feminine

by Anna Kathryn Lanier

In 1851, Amelia Bloomer, newspaper owner and advocate of women’s rights, including suffrage, temperance, education, and fashion, introduced Bloomers to America.  Though she did not invent the outfit, Elizabeth Smith Miller did that, Amelia’s wide-spread promotion of them linked her name to the “short dress that reached to the knees with frilled Turkish-style trousers gathered in ruffles at the ankles.”  Women from Maine to California welcomed the comfortable clothing.

Men, however, often found the clothing a threat to “femininity, motherhood and family.”

Chris Enss relays in her book “How The West was Worn” a journal entry by Colorado miner Arlo Howell on May 29, 1853.  “It’s a disgrace to see females dressed in trousers—an offense to the very fabric of civilization. I was witness to a display of ‘bloomers’ the other day. The young woman’s skirt was unusually short. It was an outrage!”

Newspaper reported on sightings of women wearing the outfits. From the Daily Alta California in September 1853: “In yet another sighting, the city was taken quite by surprise yesterday afternoon by observing a woman in the company with her male companion, crossing the lower side of the Plaza, dressed in a style a little beyond the Bloomer.  She was magnificently arrayed in a black satin skirt, very short, with flowing red satin trousers, a splendid yellow crepe shawl and a silk turban a la Turque.  She really looked magnificent and was followed by a large retinue of men and boys, who approved to be highly pleased with the style.”

In response to the controversy she caused, Amelia once wrote, “I stood amazed at the furor I had unwittingly caused.” But people certainly were interested in the new fashion. She remembered: “As soon as it became known that I was wearing the new dress, letters came pouring in upon me by the hundreds from women all over the country making inquiries about the dress and asking for patterns – showing how ready and anxious women were to throw off the burden of long, heavy skirts.”

Bloomers fell out of favor for a while, but with the invention of the bicycle, they made a comeback.  Reports of bicycling accidents caused by long skirts getting caught in the gears appeared often in the newspapers. In 1880 “The Girl’s Own Paper” advised that there must be no long skirts worn when using the tricycle dress. Women turned to the Bloomer instead.

Over the years, the design changed some. The short dress was replaced by a blouse and jacket, as seen above.  But the split skirt/trousers were here to stay and by the turn of the century they were quite the mode of fashion. 

Work Cited and Further reading:

http://www2.kenyon.edu/khistory/frontier/ameliabloomer.htm

http://www.fashion-era.com/rational_dress.htm

How The West was Worn: Bustles and Buckskins on the WildFrontier by Chris Enss

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

When Research Pays Off

  By Paty Jager

I received a very nice compliment on my book Improper Pinkerton. A reader asked me if I'd ever been to Virginia City. Montana.  I used the town in my book and she said I'd written it so well she figured I'd been there.

Well, I haven't. I wanted to go to Montana and do the research for Improper Pinkerton but it just wasn't good timing for a trip. Having her comment on how well I described an area I haven't seen made my toes tap and my heart sing. Like all historical writers I spend about as much time and effort into researching a project as I do writing it.

For this book I relied on Google Earth, maps, newspapers, books and a wonderful woman in the historical society of Montana.

The funny thing about the maps and Google Earth, when I searched the countryside around Helena, MT for a place to set a large ranch I found the perfect area, only once I contacted the person in the historical society and told her my findings, she tossed the idea out the window. What looked like wonderful grassland today was a swamp at the time of my book. It was after they built a dam that the land became usable.

I used Sanborn maps to "see" Helena in 1884 and through books on Helena's history I had photos and information about the city. When I'd zero in on a specific building, I contacted the historical society to learn more about it- the lighting, plumbing, set up. My contact there also gave me a list of the best books to use to "see" the town and outlying areas.

Having a reader tell me I depicted a place I've never been with accuracy, means I did my research.

Blurb for Improper Pinkerton

An impetuous Pinkerton agent is out to prove to a righteous US Marshal that she's the best "man" to complete the assignment and the only "woman" who can capture his heart.

Mae Simon is on her first assignment as a Pinkerton operative and determined nothing will stand in her way of accomplishing her task. When the simple assignment turns into a murder and kidnapping, she has to stop hiding behind her disguises and trust a man she’s betrayed.

U. S. Marshal Beck Harlan can’t afford to befriend anyone. Not with a vengeance seeking outlaw killing off his intimate acquaintances. Yet, he falls hard for the French prostitute he talks into being an informant, not realizing she is a Pinkerton operative after the same man.

Excerpt:

    Beck couldn’t believe his luck. The French girl stood at the top of the stairway. Sally had said she’d send the woman to him when she was available, but that was fast. He started forward, and she scampered down the stairs. He caught her from behind, sliding an arm around the curve of her waist, and hauled her back up to the room he’d just left.

    “Unhand me you buffoon!”

     He spun her and lowered his head, covering her mouth with his—just to keep her quiet. She stopped fighting. Her body went lax, and he molded her soft contours to his, drawing out the kiss. His heart hammered in his chest. Her arms entwined his neck. His hands roamed up and down her clothing. There were no restraining garments underneath. Only thin fabric between his skin and her round bottom. He reached around to the front and cupped her breast. She was a hand full.

     Her palms flattened against his chest, and she pushed out of his grasp. He let her go physically, but his mind was back kissing her.

    “Monsieur, you have not paid for that privilege!” Her golden brown eyes lacked the scolding of her words. He peered down at her moist lips and wanted to drag her back into his arms. He hadn’t needed a woman in some time, but this woman…lured him.

     She spun away and stepped toward the door. She couldn’t leave. They still had to talk. He stepped around her, blocking her exit. His arms crossed over his chest to avoid reaching out to her again. Staring down at the top of her head, he waited. She slowly lifted her chin and stared at him.

     “I must find Sally.” She raised her hands as though to push him aside, then dropped them to her hips when he didn’t budge.

     “I just need a few minutes of your time.”

      She held out a hand, palm up.

     “What?”

     “You, monsieur, wish my time. You will pay for it.” She wiggled her fingers.

     He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know what game this woman played. A moment ago she’d participated in a steaming kiss just as much as he had, and now she wanted paid for her time?

     “Now listen here, I’m not paying to talk to you.”

     “But, monsieur, you did more than talk when you,” her face blushed prettily, “dragged me into this room.”

     “I only did that to keep you from screaming.”

     “Screaming? I did not scream.” She cocked her head to one side as though sizing him up.

     “You were about to.”

     “Non. You took lee-ber-tees.”

     He ran a hand over his face. Was she about to scream or did he take liberties? Now, he wasn’t so sure he didn’t kiss her because he’d been thinking of it all night as she flirted with Lamont.

That was the cold water he needed. Knowing she’d been with Lamont moments before.

     “I need you to do me a favor.”

     There she went with the palm and waggling fingers, again.

     “I don’t need that kind of favor.” He pulled his badge out of his vest pocket. “I’m a U.S. Marshal.”

     Her eyes widened, and her full lips formed a perfect ‘O’ before she uttered in her breathy sigh, “But monsieur, surely I have done nothing wrong.”

     Her seductive voice and eyes feigning innocence played havoc with his control. He knew she flirted. He felt it in every inch of his body. And damn if he didn’t want to flirt back.

     “I’d say working in this place gives me grounds to suspect…” She stepped closer, pressing her body against his and igniting desires he’d held at bay the last three years.

     “S’il vous plait, do not take me to your jail. I would get cold and lonely there.” She ran her hands up his chest and looped them around his neck, stretching her body the full length of him.

     He wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her against him. His body responded to her unlike any other woman. He rested his forehead on hers and took a deep breath.

     Business. He had to keep this a business arrangement. For her sake. And his.

Paty Jager
www.patyjager.net
www.patyjager.blogspot.com

LINDA LAROQUE--Best selling author of Western Historical Romance

LINDA LAROQUE

I don’t know about other writers, but when writing a story, ideas pop up, and I find myself needing to research something. Such was the case when I wrote my newest time travel, A Marshal of Her Own, set in 1890s Prairie, Texas. Dessa Wade, an investigative reporter in her modern life, is given a typewriter by her soon-to-be husband Marshal Cole Jeffers. Imagine her thrill at having a means of putting her words to paper. The fountain pen had been invented, but wasn’t very reliable, and Dessa wasn’t adept at using a quill. Most of the ink found its way onto her fingers and paper. Her only alternative was a bulky pencil.

So today, I want to talk about the typewriter and the model Dessa received.

The idea of a typewriter first began not only as a way to communicate more quickly but also to aid the blind in communication. Yet, in the three articles I selected for this post, no mention of a typewriter aiding the blind was mentioned. For my post I'm focusing on the machine as a method of communication for journalists, writers, and work in the office.

The invention of the typewriter didn't receive international acclaim or attention like other inventions of the time such as the automobile or the telephone. One possible reason is that it was designed for work, not socializing.

The first patent for a typewriter like machine was issued in 1714 to Henry Mill of England. Unfortunately, no example of his work survives.

William Burt, of Detroit, Michigan patented his machine, called a typographer in 1829. It was designed with characters on a rotating frame. Burt's machine and others that followed were not successful as they were hard to use, cumbersome, and often took longer to produce a letter than if writing by hand.

Christopher Latham Sholes of Milwaukee, Wisconsin,  together with Carlos Gidden and Samuel Soule, patented the first useful typewriter. His patent was licensed to a well-known American gun maker and in 1874 the first commercial typewriter, the Remington Model 1, was placed on the market.

Thomas Alva Edison, using the Sholes model, built the first electric typewriter in 1872 but the machine didn't become widely used until the 1950s.

Many different types of typewriters were developed in the 1880s, but the one designed to resemble what we are familiar with today was the Underwood No. 1, invented by F. X. Wagner.

It was the first typewriter to strike the front of the planten and users could see what they were typing.

REMINGTON MODEL 2



My focus today is on the Remington Model 2 shown in the picture above. This is the model my heroine, Dessa Wade, received.  It was bulky and heavy.

If you look closely at the picture, you can see there is no shift key and you can only type in capitals. Shole is also famous for the QWERTY layout used today.

Like the Remington Model 1, the Model 2 continues the up-strike tradition. The keys hit the planten at the bottom so you cannot see what you're typing. Still, the Remington Model 2 is the first commercially successful typewriter. It wasn't until 1908 that Remington changed to the front strike planten with the Remington Model 10.

I learned to type on an old Underwood typewriter. Using one required strong fingers and I could pound out about 70 words per minute. Vintage typewriters are in style again, at least for writers who'd like to have one in their office for decoration.

References:
http://www.typewriter.be/remingtonstandard2.htm
http://typewriter.blogofstuff.com/typewriter108.html
http://www.ideafinder.com/history/inventions/typrwiter.htm

LINDA WILL GIVE AWAY AN EBOOK COPY

A Marshal of Her Own – Blurb and Excerpt
Blurb:

Despite rumors of “strange doings” at a cabin in Fredericksburg, investigative reporter Dessa Wade books the cottage from which lawyer, Charity Dawson, disappeared in 2008. Dessa is intent on solving the mystery. Instead, she is caught in the mystery that surrounds the cabin and finds herself in 1890 in a shootout between the Faraday Gang and a US Marshal.

Marshal Cole Jeffers doesn’t believe Miss Wade is a time traveler. He admits she’s innocent of being an outlaw, but thinks she knows more about the gang than she’s telling. When she’s kidnapped by Zeke Faraday, Cole is determined to rescue her. He’s longed for a woman of his own, and Dessa Wade just might be the one—if she’ll commit to the past.

Excerpt:

Dessa stood still and watched as they conversed. Something stank to high heaven about this entire situation. Why were the cops chasing robbers on horseback? It’s not like Fredericksburg was that isolated. She glanced at the captured men. The boy moaned, and she made a step to go over and help him. The Marshal spun, and the expression in his eye froze her in place.

 “He needs first aid.”

 “He’s fine. The Doc will tend to him when we get to the jail.”

“You could at least call 911 and let them patch him up for you.” She nodded to the man lying so still with his eyes closed. “Your other prisoner doesn’t look so good. He’s going to die on you if you don’t start CPR or get him some help.”

“Lady, no one is going to hear a yell from out here. Never heard of any 911 or CPR.” He propped the hand not holding the shotgun on his hip and threw her a disgusted look. “Are you blind? That man is dead, shot through the heart.”

Her head swam for a moment, and she struggled not to give in to the sensation and faint. She drew in deep gulps of air. “Well...well..., what about the coroner and the meat wagon, not to mention the CSI folks? If you don’t get them to record the scene, how are you going to cover your butt? The authorities might say you shot him in cold blood.”

He looked at her like she’d sprouted an extra head. “I don’t know what the hell you are talking about woman. No one will question my authority. I’m the law in this county. Now, be quiet, or I’m going to gag you.”

THE TYPEWRITER PIN LINDA WILL GIVE AWAY.
SEE BELOW.

 A Marshal of Her Own will be available on November 23, 2011 at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and other online book stores. It is the sequel to A Law of Her Own available at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon.com, and Barnes and Noble.com and other online book stores. I’m awaiting a release date for A Love of His Own, the third story in the Prairie, Texas series.

My release contest for A Marshal of Her Own begins today. I’ll be giving away this vintage typewriter pin. To enter the drawing, go to my webiste or blog and sign up for my newsletter. If you already receive it, email me at linda@lindalaroque.com
 with A Marshal of Her Own contest in the subject line.

Nameless in almost every western movie and novel, the Overland stage coach driver sat high on the box seat of his Concord coach and set his team racing across the country, up and down mountains. Day and night, he battled heat, cold, rain, bandits and Indians in his effort to get his passengers safely to their destinations--all for the sum of forty to seventy dollars a month, plus board.

These hardy and courageous men came from all kinds of backgrounds. They were known as reinsmen, whips, and Jehus. The name Jehu came from II Kings 9:20. “…and the driving is like the driving of Jehu… for he driveth furiously.” On a whole, they were shy, cheerful and polite men.

An excellent cross country time for a stage coach was 150 miles a day, or 6 miles an hour. The stage ran day and night with brief stops every 10-12 miles to change the horses or mules. These stations were known as ‘swing stations’ and in less than ten minutes the stage was underway again.
Each driver had a route of approximately fifty miles. At the beginning and end of his route was a station known as the ‘home station,’ (where passengers could also pay a dollar for a meal). From there another driver continued the route while the first stayed to rest up, until the return run when he would then retrace his route.

In a six horse team the distance from the tip of the leader’s nose to the rear wheels of the Concord coach was some 50 feet. From front to rear each pair of animals was referred to as leaders, swings, and wheelers. Off meant the right side, the near side was the left.

The driver sat with his hands in his lap. The reins for the leaders were held between the index and middle fingers; those for the swings, between the middle and third fingers; and the wheelers, between the third and little fingers. The driver would gather each line by drawing with the fingers and let the reins out by separating his fingers just enough for the ribbons to slide through.

The whip was grasped between the thumb and forefinger with the butt cupped against the heel of the thumb and the stock held parallel to the lines. It was used mainly to intimidate wheelers.

Made of hickory, about five feet long with an eleven or twelve foot buckskin lash, the driver’s whip was a very personal thing, and he would often have it engraved or embossed with silver or gold. They never let their whip out of their sight or loaned it to even their closest friends.
Drivers never wore gloves unless they were made out of silk or the finest buckskin, even in the bitter cold. They would risk frostbite rather than lose their ability to feel the reins.

Making a turn involved a combination of reining, slight braking, and voice. Driver’s preferred the teams to be hitched loosely so the horses could perform individually. A top driver could hold the wheelers steady while the leaders made the turn. The brake was not fully applied as it was better to keep the wheels rolling so they wouldn’t slide. Good coach horses knew their names and understood the driver’s tone of voice.

Drivers enjoyed showing off their skill and as they approached town, the might urge their team into a full gallop. Then as the neared the hotel, apply the brake and bring their team to stop right at the hotel steps.

Smith Flat House

A couple of weeks ago I started physical therapy on my knee. The doctor sent me to a therapist who has his office in the historical Smith Flat House which is located three miles east of Placerville, California. I was pleased to be able to visit this unique building again because I have used a part of it in my current WIP, Broken Promise. When we first moved to this former gold rush area, the upstairs in this building was used as a restaurant and the downstairs as a bar. That is where I saw the Blue Lead Goldmine tunnel, my first observance of a mine entry into the ground. The house was built over the entrance. I will never forget the smell of decay and the darkest black I have ever seen. The thought of miners entering into the earth at that point terrified me. You cannot imagine what it would be like unless you thought you might run into the devil’s hand reaching out for you.

Mile houses were established during the gold rush. They were places along the stage coach lines where travelers could stop to rest. Many of the mile houses that were on parts of the road that were privately owned also collected tolls.

Being on the Placerville wagon and stage road, Smith's Flat was the perfect location for a hotel and toll station. The Three Mile House, now known as the Smith Flat House, was built at this location in 1853. Built over the entrance of the Blue Lead Mine, the Smith Flat House originally consisted of a general store, post office, bedroom, dining room and dance floor, all situated downstairs, with more bedrooms above. There was also a barn that could stable 40 horses for the many teamsters and travelers that passed this way.

Just as the number of California emigrants passing through Smith's Flat began to decrease, silver was discovered near Virginia City in Nevada. Immediately the traffic reversed and the road became the most crowded road in the state as thousands of freight wagons carrying supplies and equipment passed by on their way over the Sierra Nevada to the mines. Because of this traffic, in 1863 a blacksmith's shop was added next to the Smith Flat House, followed in the 1890s by additional improvements to the building including a kitchen, pantry, laundry, more bedrooms and a saloon and card room.

When Sarah Lombardo turned eighteen in 1885, she married Nicola Fossati, the soul owner of the Smith Flat House at that time. She was expected to take over management of the house, including doing all of the work. It had two floors. Located on the first floor was the general store, saloon, card room, post office, and living quarters for the family. Upstairs there were 11 rooms for boarders and a large dance hall that was used as community center for political meetings, precinct voting, dancing, traveling shows, and auditorium for other large gatherings. At first Sarah was overwhelmed; however, she soon adjusted to supervising the business.

Also, since Sarah was expected to manage the post office and general store, she needed to learn bookkeeping. The agent for Sperry Flour Company offered to teach her and was amazed at how fast the young woman learned. When a young arrival from Italy, John Lagomarsino, needed help learning English and arithmetic, Sarah became his tutor. Lagomarsino was later instrumental in helping A.P. Giannini found the Bank of Italy, now known as the Bank of America.

During Sarah’s lifetime, it is doubtful that she ever left Smith’s Flat House, except for an occasional visit to Placerville. Yet she managed to reach out and touch the lives of many.