American Cowboy Chaps: Then and Now

By Charlotte Raby

CHARLOTTE RABY
Sitting on Laura Ingall's steps

 For everyone who loves western romances, no cowboy fantasy would be complete without envisioning (at least once) our heroic wrangler in full Wild West regalia, which, of course, always includes chaps.

 Many sources consider the historical beginning of chaps to have started with Mexican Vaqueros in the 1800’s, but really, they were used over thirty thousand years ago and evolved into what we consider them to be today.

A BREED APART by Charlotte Raby.
If you’re in the mood for a contemporary western romance full of rough and tumble wranglers, find my novel, A Breed Apart here:

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/A-Breed-Apart-ebook/dp/B004SIQUHC/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1325351788&sr=1-6
Kindle and other formats: https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=charlotte+raby  
Don't miss the excerpt toward the end of Charlotte's post. And please read her bio, too...you've got to see how much this talented woman does.
  

Nomadic peoples of the Upper Paleolithic era (30-50 thousand years ago) learned how to make and sew leather into clothing, as evidenced by their cave drawings, leather-scraping tools, and bone and thorn needles discovered in Spain.  These people most likely discovered animal skins on the forest floor which had been tanned naturally by tannins excreted from rotting vegetation. In 2010, archeologists found tangible evidence in the Swiss Alps: leather leggings created during the Neolithic period. They were 4200 years old, made from goat skin, and tanned with birch bark.  Prehistoric people gave us the concepts of making and sewing leather, as well as dyeing, bleaching, and decorating it.

NATIVE AMERICAN LEGGINGS

 Now fast forward to the 1500’s. The Plains and Eastern Native American tribes had been sewing and wearing leather clothing, including leggings, for quite some time. The leggings evolved from hides with forelegs tied at the ankle and hind legs either tied the waist or tucked into belts to fitted styles. They were cut and sewn, first with a front seam, then later with a side seam to aid horseback riding. In 1534, Louisiana was a French colony; Mountain men travelled extensively, interacting with many Native American tribes, and most likely took the idea of leather leggings and passed it along. Although Louisiana was ceded to Spain and Britain in 1762, the French continued to settle the land through the mid 1800’s.

 Enter the Mexican Vaqueros. They initially used thick hide as an apron tied to the saddle horn that covered the horse’s breast and rider’s legs. These were called Arma (weapon, armor). Eventually, Armitas were created, which tied around the leg, extending to just below the knee and covering only the exposed part of the leg.  Later, Armitas became like short trousers one would step into and pull up.  In the 1840’s these evolved into what we know of today as chaps and were called chaparreras and chaparajos (the j sounds like h).  The root of these words is chapa, meaning sheet; the word chapara follows, which means plate.

Although a strict Spanish pronunciation of chaps would give a hard ch sound, we can’t forget French influence on languages and cultures throughout the American West (and I would be interested in exploring chappen from 1275 Middle English and Dutch! But later.). The Spanish Chapara translates to plaque in French, which translates to plate in English. French and Spanish are closely related Romance Languages; therefore, French influence explains why in the American West, chaps is pronounced with a soft ch as in Charlemagne.  

The four styles of chaps from the 1800’s have changed very little since then: Below: Shotgun Chaps

Shotgun chaps, so named because the long tight fitting legs resemble shotgun barrels, were made to step into and were tight and often difficult to remove. Later, buckles and snaps were used, but today most come with a full length zipper along the outer leg. They were made from the leather of deer, elk, calf, goat, or wild animals. Today, they’re also made using nylon and ultra suede fabrics.

Bat Wing chaps (above) are long and tie around the thigh only. They have a wide flap of leather from the knee to the ankle that covers the rider’s boots and spurs and provides greater freedom of movement and ventilation in warmer climes.

Woolies (above) are made of hide with the hair on from buffalo, bear, and Angora goat, and were most often worn in the northern parts of the country, where cowboys needed protection from freezing rain, snow, and frigid temperatures.

Chinks (above) are short chaps, coming to below the knee. Fancy Chinks were worn by women in western shows in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.

In the western United States today, Shotgun chaps are worn for dressage and work; Bat Wings are seen in rodeos and western shows, but sometimes still used for work, and Chinks and still worn by working cowboys around the barn and on cattle drives, and by farriers.

Chaps were an important part of a cowboy’s tack, and most cowboys went through two to three sets a year. Today, approximately 50% of cattle drives are accomplished on horseback with the riders wearing chaps, and modern working cowboys wear them around the barn. Of course, all rodeo and show riders wear colorful, fancy chaps. Sewing patterns and various materials can be used by the home-sewer to make her own.  See the sources listed below to read more about chaps and see pictures of historical and modern chaps. 
~*~*~*~
BLURB:
Newly graduated veterinarian, Kira McGovern, must find a permanent job and residence within three months in order to adopt her orphaned infant niece. A cattle rancher offers her a win-or-lose opportunity, but his sexy, distracting son plans to make sure she fails.

EXCERPT:
"Kira!" At first he thought she hadn't heard, but a second later, she turned her head and made eye contact. Holt leaned over and stuck out his left arm. Kira nodded and braced herself. With one last look at the bull, she aimed her left arm for Holt's midsection and jumped. Holt grabbed her armpit, swinging her behind him.

The bull lowered his head to gore the horse, and Holt's mare kicked backwards, twisting its rear-end away from danger. Holt almost dropped Kira over the other side, but she seized the back of his collar, ripping it, and dug her nails into his gut. She righted herself, then wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing the breath out of him. He jabbed his heels into the mare, leaving the bull in a cloud of dust.

By this time, the men reached the area and took turns distracting the animal until the other riders took over and forced him back across the fallen fence. They made a hasty repair, as the bull grew bored and finally trotted away.

Holt slowed his mare to a walk to calm her. Hell, to calm himself and Kira, too. They were quite a distance from the trucks and work area. The horse's slower rhythm eased his heartbeat. After a few minutes, he stopped and pried Kira's hands from his stomach, which stung where she'd torn his skin. He swung his leg over the mare's head and slid to the ground. Dazed, she turned, her arms out, and Holt gently lowered her from the saddle.

He barely got her to the ground before her knees buckled. She fell forward into his arms and Holt kneeled with her, holding her between his legs, her head on his shoulder. She was trembling.

He stroked her hair. "You're okay now."

She looked up, and in her eyes, he saw a shattering emotion. She grabbed the silver ball under her shirt. The chain around her neck strained against her dirt-smudged skin, and all he could think of as they stared at each other was that she was more beautiful than any other creature alive.

"I could hear his breath," she choked out, haltingly. "I could see his nostrils spraying."

With each word, Holt felt and heard her terror increase. He squeezed her upper arms.

"I felt his feet pounding the ground...oh, God..." She sobbed and searched his eyes.

"Shh, you're safe, baby, you're safe." Before he could think, he pressed his lips to hers. She tensed a second, then kissed him back. Their kiss intensified as he emptied the desperation he'd felt in trying to save her onto her warm, soft lips. She opened to him, and he held her tightly as the kiss deepened.

Slowly, they parted, and looked into each other's eyes. Then, she leaned over his thigh and puked.

Holt really needed a cigarette.
~*~*~*~
BIO:
Charlotte was born and raised in Arizona, but didn’t realize how much the West was a part of her until she moved away. After earning her engineering degree in Cleveland, Ohio, she moved back to Arizona. She stayed a while but got the itch to explore again so then lived in Virginia, South Carolina, Wyoming, and finally settled (?) in Colorado, where she now lives with her husband, two teen daughters and a sweet dog. She plays the flute with the Denver Pops, is on the board and various committees for the Golden Concert Choirs, runs her own custom sewing and alterations business (charlottesthimble.com), and writes (charlotteraby.com).
~*~*~*~
LINKS:
http://www.all-about-leather.co.uk/history.htm
http://inventors.about.com/od/cstartinventions/a/clothing.htm
http://www.ehow.com/about_4598491_leather-sewing.html
http://books.google.com/books/about/Dress_Clothing_of_the_Plains_Indians.html?id=3RhgNZOTVGoC

     (Dress Clothing of the Plains Indians by Ronald P. Kock; University of OK press, 1977)

http://content.usatoday.com/communities/sciencefair/post/2010/06/leather-fashionable-in-prehistoric-times/1

      (“Leather Fashionable in Prehistoric Times” by Dan Vergano, June 8, 2010)
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWchaps.htm
www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/WWcowboys.htm
http://westernexplorers.us/FurTrade.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louisiana_Purchase
http://www.purecowboy.us/Shipley%20Rough-Out%20Chaps.htm
http://www.suitability.com/

Longhorns

All horns and no beef, the Texas Longhorn is as much a part of the mystique of the “Old West,” as the cowboy and his Colt Peacemaker.

Ancestors of the both the California and Texas Longhorns can be traced back to the marshes of Andalusia in Southern Spain and the wooded region of Extramadura in Western Spain.

These Andalusians were of the same lineage that produced the large black bulls of the Spanish and Latin-American bull rings.

They can be divided into three groups from the Andalusian areas; Retinta, a solid red, brown to tan colored animal; Black Andalusian, a solid black animal; and Berrenda, a white cow with black markings. The familiar high tail and narrow head of the Longhorn were also characteristic.

The people who lived in these regions sailed with Christopher Columbus on his second journey to the new world in 1493. These settlers brought with them these Andalusian cattle. They settled in the four island chain of the Antilles (Hispaniola, Jamaica, Cuba, and Puerto Rico). The cattle roamed freely and became semi-wild, giving birth to calves with a spotted or speckled color pattern, which is typical of untamed animals.

In 1519, many of the Antilles settlers left for Mexico in search of gold and other rumored treasure, bringing cattle with them.

In 1521, Don Gregorio de Villalobos was sent as viceroy to “New Spain” and brought a number of calves from Santo Domingo to the Pánuco River valley near what is today Tampico, Mexico. The stock raisers in Hispaniola, afraid they would lose their monopoly for the supply of horses and cattle to the Spanish settlements, instituted severe restrictions on the delivery of brood stock to Mexico.

In 1690 the first herd of 200 Spanish cattle were driven north into what is now Texas, for the missions Spain had established there. The cattle were rugged, sharp-horned animals that ran thick in the brush country of South Texas and into New Mexico and Arizona.

By the time the first Anglo-Saxon American settlers reached Texas, the woods were full of cattle. They were called Criollo, or “Cattle of the country”.

The Texas longhorn is generally thought to have been created as a cross between this criollo stock and the English cattle brought to Texas in 1820’s and 1830’s by these first settlers. The wild black cattle eventually mixed with these strains and the result was the hybrid breed known as the Texas Longhorn.

Though, some historians disagree. These Andalusian cattle were immune to a disease referred to as “Spanish Fever,” “Texas Fever,” or “Cattle Tick Fever.” This disease, spread by a tick that longhorns often carried, was often fatal in other cattle. Therefore it is unlikely that no more than minor inbreeding occurred as most settlers kept their cattle close, away from the wild longhorns.

The longhorn had long legs and a long, limber tail, and he came in just about every color of the rainbow, perhaps most often some hue of red, brown or yellow, but there were also brindles, “gruyas” (grullas, mouse-colored), duns, blacks, whites, creams and every possible combination. An animal splotched with different colors was called a paint, and one with a line stripe down his back, which the old Texans often called a lobo (wolf) stripe.

Hardy, aggressive and adaptable, the Texas Longhorns were well suited to harshness of the ranges of the southwestern United States.

Longhorn cattle have a strong survival instinct and can find food and shelter during times of rough weather. Longhorn calves are very tough and can stand up sooner after birth and other breeds.

Running wild for nearly two hundred years had made the longhorn tough and hardy enough to withstand blizzards, droughts, dust storms, attacks by other animals, and Indians. They did not require great amounts of water to survive. Their horns served for attack and defense. A strong sense of smell made it easy to for the cow to find her calf and she would ferociously defend this calf.

There was probably no meaner creature in Texas than a Longhorn bull. The slightest provocation would turn him into an aggressive and dangerous enemy. The bull’s horns usually measured over eight feet long. In addition, the sharpness of horns of any length, the speed and muscle power of the bull, and the ease with which he could be aroused and enraged, made him a dangerous and uncontrollable animal. When two bulls met, there was sure to be a fight, often to the death. And only a very well-armed cowboy had a chance against a Longhorn bull.

Regardless of their color, Longhorns could run like deer, swim like a seal, and fight like a mountain lion; and to help them they had the most fantastic horns ever to grace the head of any bovine. Though probably the average spread wasn’t more than 4-5 feet, there were many that went 6-7 feet. For the most part the horns arched forward more or less, but they might grow in any fashion, like the handlebars of a bicycle, or with curve on curve, or even one horn up and one down.

At about the age of four or five, when the Longhorn was considered to be getting its full growth, though they did keep putting on weight for years longer, little wrinkles would begin to grow up from the bases of the horns. The older the steer got, the more the wrinkles would show, giving rise the term “mossy horns,” meaning old-timers. A full-grown young steer would weigh 800-900 pounds, while a fat old mossy horn might go as high as 1500 or more.

When gold was discovered in California in 1848, and miners demanded beef, some of the first cattle drives on record took place, driving approximately 100,000 head of cattle west to California. After the Civil War, cattlemen of the Southwest discovered that you could drive a full-grown Texas Longhorn north and he’d put on weight grazing northern grass.

Eventually Shorthorn and Hereford stock were introduced to the Southwest to improve the beef quality, and Brahma cattle to produce animals more resistant to tick fever. The true Longhorn began to disappear. In 1920 funds were made available from Congress to save them. Forrest Service employees Will C. Barnes and John Hatton, armed with descriptions of the Longhorn “type”, inspected over 30,000 head of Texas cattle and assembled a herd of 20 cows, 3 bulls, 3 steers, and 4 calves. In 1927 the animals were shipped to the Wichita National Forest and Game Preserve.

These survivors became the foundation stock for a herd dedicated to preserving these great animals for posterity.





Sources:

Foster-Harris, William. The Look of the Old West, New York, Skyhorse Publishing Inc., 2007

Texas Longhorn Survivor of the Past-Bright Promise for the Future, by Dr. Stewart h Fowler, PhD
http://www.anisiokstate.edu/breeds/cattle/texaslonghorn/

Texas State Historical Association-A Digital Gateway to Texas History, The handbook of Texas Online, Longhorn Cattle
http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/at102

Texas Longhorns: A history of Longhorn Cattle
http://dfwnetmall.com/e-mag/longhorn.htm

Texas Longhorn Cattle-History of the Breed
http://www.rogerslonghorns.com/

California Association of Texas Longhorn Breeders, History of Longhorns in California, by Michael Casey
http://www.catl.com/histCA.html

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, History of the Texas Longhorns
http://www.fws.gov/southwest/refuges/oklahoma/wichitamountains/longhornhist.html

Photos Courtesy of Dickinson Cattle Co.

Finding Inspiration in Western Photographs....

By Amber Leigh Williams

The concept for my first western romance came around slowly and on somewhat on a whim, an idea that I never thought would come to fruition. For me, it took a while to come around to reading western romance. The first one I picked up was Nora Robert's Lawless, which to this day is the best historical western romance on my shelf. Through its pages, I fell in love with the untamed landscape of the West and the dangerous lifestyle of the cowboy hero. It intrigued me, both as a fan of western films and as a storyteller.

Surprisingly, the idea of writing a western romance novel didn't come to life until I found inspiration while thumbing through an issue of Vogue. Charlize Theron was on the cover. I remember this because she's my husband's favorite actress. On the cover, she was posing in front of a barn in chic western attire. In the article, it was revealed that Charlize grew up farming/ranching before going on to become one of Hollywood's A-listers and an Academy Award winner. The western-themed shoot took her back to her ranching roots in South Africa. Not only did the western spread capture my attention. Snippets of the article itself - especially the part where she reminisced about her ranching heritage and her wish to return to those roots later in life - made me take pen to paper and begin brainstorming the character of Stella Ridge, heroine of Blackest Heart.




The notes were rough, but I saw America's Sweetheart going through a life-changing ordeal and retreating to her family's ranch in order to find peace in the solitude of the West. I chose a serious car crash as a personal choice because when I was a young girl I discovered firsthand just how traumatizing a car accident could be. Stella's search for peace, serenity, and a true sense of self leads her back to her family, her old ranching life, and the man she is destined to love.

It would be several months before I saw another photo, this time on the web, that furthered the story  concept of Blackest Heart....

I don't know how it happened but from this one photo the character of Judd Black, the silent cowboy, came to be. At that moment, I knew for sure that I had to write this western romance. I had to give Stella and Judd their own journey of forgivness and healing as well as a satisfying HEA. Although I love each and every one of my heroes, I have to admit that so far no other hero I've written has lived up quite to Judd's standards. There's just something about that mysterious, silent cowboy that makes me want to reach out to him again and again and it all goes back to a single, random photograph.

To get a taste for the rodeo town of Wayback in which Blackest Heart takes place, I turned again to images to help me set the tone for the setting of the story. I have to say that researching rodeo cowboys isn't the worst part of my job ;) 

If not for these images, Blackest Heart never would have found a life of its own. I look back on that day in October 2007 I found inspiration through the lens of Mario Testino in Vogue with happiness and appreciation because I’m not quite sure where my writing journey would have led me without finding a true writing niche in western romance.

Blackest Heart is now available in ebook from The Wild Rose Press, Kindle, and Nook! Recently, it became available as an audio book from AudioLark! You can also find it in paperback in the western romance anthology, The Way Back Home!

To read more about Blackest Heart and its subsequent trilogy, visit the BOOKS page of my website and read the REVIEWS. Happy reading!

Georgetown Gazette

A 19th-Century Publisher by Paisley Kirkpatrick

The Mountain Democrat in Placerville, California, called her The Gazette's "editress," and the San Francisco Call described her as "gifted editor, writer and manager." She was Maude Hulbert Horn, a reporter for the Georgetown Gazette at fourteen and its publisher two years later at age sixteen.

Maude was born in 1873 and grew up with printer's ink in her veins. She was the daughter of Joseph Hulbert, who was also a publisher. In 1880 the family moved from Auburn, California, to Georgetown. Hulbert was impressed with the town's gold mining opportunities and the fact that it was a small bustling trade center with an air of permanence. The first Georgetown Gazette was published on April 9, 1880.

Once the newspaper was established, Hulbert started prospecting for gold, leaving the responsibility of the Gazette to his wife. During the next few years, the family increased, and Maude, the oldest of four children, had to assume a great deal of the Gazette's duties. The other children were not interested in the paper.

At the age of nine, Maude was taught to set type with a steel-type stick that was cut to fit the child's small hand, and, by the time Maude was fourteen, she was recognized as a reporter. She attended public school where she excelled in English literature. In 1891, at sixteen, her father named Maude editor of the Gazette. Her name, however, did not appear on the masthead for two years, and then she was titled manager instead of editor. Maude had to give up her plans of attending college, along with social activities, to maintain the family weekly newspaper.

The young woman was running the paper by 1895, with help only on press day and whenever Hulbert returned from the mines. Her desire to learn continued and Maude found the time to study French, Shakespeare, astronomy, and shorthand.

Her father moved to Oregon and left the newspaper in Maude's control. Two years after John C. 'Jack' Horn joined the Gazette, and the couple married. Horn was an experienced printer, and together their coverage gained the respect of Georgetown. It was Maude's policy not to print items that might cause embarrassment. Many times she would omit a birth notice so readers wouldn't know how long the woman had been married. When a local resident was involved in an indiscretion, it went unreported.

Maude was also a joiner and belonged to many organizations. They provided news and allowed her to socialize. She also belonged to many lodges.

After the 1906 San Francisco earthquake her husband and daughter moved to San Francisco to help out Jack's destitute brother. Maude worked herself into exhaustion, and it was common for her to faint at moments of stress. She wrote, as a stringer, for The Sacramento Bee and submitted material to the Mountain Democrat in Placerville and the Auburn Journal. She also sold home-grown cherries.

During World War I, she directed Red Cross public health and relief efforts, and, following the war, she attended a League of Nations meeting as an honorary delegate. In 1921 her husband died trying to rescue a woman in a fire. When her son graduated from college, and after forty years with the Gazette, she sold the Gazette's equipment and took a vacation in Hawaii. She was accepted into both the state and national societies of The Daughters of the American Revolution. She became one of the jurors in El Dorado County's first Superior Court trial. Three years later she was a part of the Grand Jury, and in 1930 Maude was appointed Justice of the Peace. She was the first woman in Georgetown to hold this position and served for three years.

Maude Horn died in 1935, unrecognized for her great contributions to publishing.

Information taken from Women of the Sierra, written by Anne Seagraves.

A Christmas scene from WISH FOR THE MOON

By-Celia Yeary

       Even though Christmas Day is over, many of us cling to the spirit of the season, savoring the wonderful feelings, the food, the fellowship, and the opening of gifts. I remembered a Christmas scene in my newest release, titled Wish for the Moon.

The year was 1902, and Annie McGinnis, the youngest child of the family, now at seventeen finds herself the lady of the house--the home she grew up in. The position is not one she wants, but Annie has a very strong sense of duty and responsibility, and in this case...taking care not only of the household chores, but seeing after her widowed father, Grover, and Old Blind Jarrel, a neighbor man they took in. Her brothers, Kyle and Clifford have married and moved away.

Max Landry, the man Annie fell in love with after saving him from the hangman's noose, has moved on, too...or so she thinks.

Christmas time nears, and Annie goes to town to sell her pecans, eggs, and jars of jelly. She hopes to earn enough money to buy a gift for her father and Jarrel. She also hopes she has enough to buy a bar a lavender soap for herself.

She finds a tiny cedar tree and uses it for a Christmas tree. She places it on the end of the kitchen table, decorated with strings of juniper berries and bows made of bits of colored cloth and old lace. On each side, she places a candle.
~*~*~*~
  EXCERPT:
On Christmas Day, Annie placed her offerings in front of the tree. She sat two candles, one on either side, and lit them.

“Jerral,” she said, “give me your hand, and you can see the tree.” She helped guide his hand, so he could feel each part, and the gifts underneath. Carefully, she guided his hand to feel the candlesticks, and waved his hand over the flames so he would know they burned.

After breakfast, Annie told Grover to stay at the table so he and Jerral could open their presents. Grover, though, took Jerral to the bedroom first, and when they returned, each held a gift, wrapped in white paper with red string.

Jerral loved his suspenders, and exclaimed over them, how he liked the thick, woven texture, and the feel of the smooth metal clasps. She helped fasten them to his pants and adjusted them to the right length on his bony shoulders. “Oh, you look so fine, Jerral. These were just made for you.” He asked if he could kiss Annie’s cheek, and she happily let him.

Grover said little about his new blue-striped shirt, but he held it in his lap and stroked the soft fabric for a long time.

Finally, he told her the other two gifts were for her—one from him and one from Jerral. Jerral gave her the only thing he had—his family Bible.

Jerral said, “I can’t read it, Annie, and I don’t have any kin. You’re as close to a daughter as I’ll ever have. I want you to have it.”

Annie cried and hugged him around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Oh, thank you, Jerral. I’ll treasure it and add it to my bookshelf where I have the other books. And guess what? I’ve baked you a vanilla-raisin meringue cream pie!”

Grover gave her a small box of chocolates from the drugstore. They were in a gold colored box with a fancy seal on the top. The label read, “Golden’s Chocolates, Made in Chicago.” Each one had a different center—vanilla fondue, strawberry and lemon creams, nuts, coconut, and caramel. Tears ran down her face. Never in her life had she received such a grand present.

“Thank you so much, Papa. I will savor each one, and the box will look so pretty on my dresser. If I ever get a necklace, I’ll keep it in the gold box.”

“Annie,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I just plumb forgot. Helen would have my hide if she knew I didn’t remember our baby’s birthday.”

Annie laughed and cried some more, and soon, all three choked up.

Christmas had come, after all.
  ~*~*~*~
  Blurb:

At the dawn of the Twentieth Century, sixteen-year-old Annie McGinnis wishes for a chance to see more of the world, since all she’s ever known is the family farm in North Texas. A mysterious visitor arrives who will change not only her life, but her family’s as well. To save Max Landry from a bogus charge, she follows him and the Texas Rangers back to the coal-mining town one county over where a murder occurred. The short journey sets Annie on a path of discovery—new horizons, an inner strength, and quite possibly…love.   
 
Buy Link on Amazon--print or Kindle ebook:
http://www.amazon.com/Wish-Moon-Celia-Yeary/dp/1466452382/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324864096&sr=1-8  

Buy Link on Willow Moon Publishing--ebook.

http://willowmoonpublishing.com/cosowiformoc.html   

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             

LIFE ON THE OKLAHOMA PRAIRIE

By Caroline Clemmons

My brother and I have been working on a family history book for our father's Johnson family. Although my brother and I are Texans, our father's and mother's family were Oklahoma pioneers. Daddy's family moved from Georgia to Texas and then to Oklahoma. Mom's family moved from Tennessee to Oklahoma. The following is part of an account by a member of our paternal step-grandmother's Garton line regarding their move from Hill County, Texas to Old Greer County (now Harmon County), Oklahoma in 1899. The entire account is too long to include here, but I hope you find this portion interesting. It's from an oral history recorded in 1978.

Dugout

"...We camped at Mr. Brim’s because he had water. There was an empty dugout nearby. We moved into it because it was so cold in the tent. We had a sheet-iron stove, but there wasn’t any wood. Willy had pneumonia. The gyp dust of the dugout turned out to be worse on him than the cold, and so we had to move back into the tent.

It didn’t take long for us to get initiated to the hazards of living on the prairie. Rain was our chief concern. Everyday we searched the skies for rain clouds. When we saw a rain cloud approaching, we always remembered what a settler’s wife had told Papa when we camped out on Turkey Creek. He had gone to try to buy food for the animals. He asked if it ever rained in Greer County. In a long drawn out tone she replied, "It don’t never rain in Greer County, but when it does, it don’t never stop."


Rolling sandstrom

About two or three weeks after we arrived in Martin, we experienced our first sandstorm. Murray and Papa were digging the dugout, and the rest of us were working around the tent. We had spread all the bedclothes outside on the grass so they could air the damp out. We saw the black cloud coming from the north. We thought it was a bad rain cloud. It hit with all the fury of a spring rainstorm, but it was only wind and dust. Mama struggled to get the bedclothes off the grass while we kids fought to keep the tent from falling. Even Willy, who still had pneumonia, was trying to help. But the tent collapsed in spite of all our efforts. After it was over, Papa and Murray came running to us. Papa said that he had never been so frightened—he had thought the world was coming to an end! Later we found our pillows a half-mile away hanging on a barbed wire fence.

After that experience, we watched the skies for rain, those ominous black clouds, and another cloud of a different color. This was a gray cloud that meant an approaching prairie fire. All of the settlers feared these fires. Everyone plowed his fields to make a fire guard; but if the wind was strong, nothing could stop the fires. We were never burned out, but we lived in fear that we might be.

Half-dugout House

Murray and Papa finally finished the new dugout. There we were—seven kids and Mama and Papa—and we didn’t own one dollar in cash. Mr. Brim helped Papa get groceries "on account" in Quanah. He had a fenced garden spot that he said we could use. Mr. Payne let us milk two of his cows.

Then we started breaking land with our horses and that old mule. We didn’t make any crop that first year, but we did get all of the land broken. The second year we planted maize and cotton. Papa would dig the holes and I would place the seeds in the holes. The maize was the old goose-necked variety that grew as high as a man’s head and then curved back toward the ground. We had to cut each head separately with a knife. It was difficult for us to reach. Our hands would get cut by the sharp blades of the leaves and, once in a while, by the knife.

We had to go to Quanah, Texas for everything. It had the closest railroad. Four or five families would sometimes get together and go over there because we had to ford the Red River. If the river was up, all of the horses would be hitched together in order to pull the wagons across one by one. We had to tie everything down in the wagons or we might see our supplies floating down the river. We would never know whether or not the river would be high. There might have been thunderstorms further west we knew nothing about.

It seemed like we were always in debt to that man at Quanah. I remember one of the first years when we made a good crop. Papa went to Quanah to pay off our bills. When he came home, he said, "Well, Susan, I didn’t tell you, but now I’ve paid it off I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. I mortgaged the mule last spring."

Mama was shocked. She fretted the remainder of the day. She said over and over, "Just think, if we hadn’t made this crop, we’d lost that mule, and then how would we have broken the land for next year’s crop?"

We made pretty good crops when we first came to Martin. The land was fresh and would grow anything if we could just get enough rain. Our biggest problem was getting water. We had to haul it from Quanah or catch it in rain barrels. When it rained, we filled every available container with water.

The year after Papa mortgaged the mule, he traded it for the price of digging a well. The man had to dig 115 feet before he hit water. We had to draw all our water—even for the stock. Whose job do you think that was? Talk about "the good old days!" If I didn’t think Mama or Papa were watching, I would drive the cattle away—they would drink too much.

Our next biggest worry was the damage caused by the open range policy. Before the Herd Law was passed, the cattle would eat our maize crop and trample our cotton. There weren’t any trees around for fence posts. All the lumber had to be freighted in from Quanah. Besides that, barbed wire cost money, and we were always short of money.

Willy got a job in Texas. That $10 a month he made sure helped us. One of most vivid memories relating to that open range policy was the day two bulls got into a fight on the top of our flat topped dugout. We were afraid to go outside because they might attack us, and we were afraid to stay inside because it sounded as if any second they could come crashing through the roof. Finally, they gave up and went away.

I was just nine years old when we moved from Hill County, Texas. Oh, how homesick I would get for all those beautiful trees I used to climb (I was the tomboy of the family) and the creeks I used to wade in. I missed our big house too. Everything got so dirty in the dugout. My brother-in-law Ed, who had said this country wouldn’t sprout black-eyed peas, brought my sister Attie to see us. They decided to homestead north of us. We were all together then, and I knew there wasn’t much hope of going back.

All of us children had to work in the fields planting and harvesting. In the winter we went to school. I loved school and secretly dreamed of going back to Texas to high school. My aunt offered to take my older sister Lucinda and send her to high school so that she could become a teacher. When my sister refused, I asked Mama if I could take her place, but she shrugged it off by saying that I was too young and should stay at home..."

Readers, don't look for Martin on the Oklahoma map. When the railroad passed the town in favor of Hollis, Martin Township died. Even Hollis' population has dwindled now that the railroad no longer goes there. There's a nice Black-Eyed Pea Festival the third weekend in August. Most of my family members have moved away.

And if you are wondering why--if Willy couldn't breathe in the dugout--his father and older brother built another one, it's the gypsum. Gypsum deposits run through some areas of Old Greer County, now Harmon County. Since the gypsum-filled dugout was on Mr. Brim's land, one can only guess that the family built their dugout in red sandy loam instead of gypsum. Or, maybe the Brim's had used limestone/gypsum wash to paint the inside of the dugout. I have no idea, but know that I prefer a brick home with a nice firm (cleanable) floor. 

Yes, although I love writing and reading about the Old West, I'm very thankful I live in modern times! I wonder what the future will bring? What will families in 120 years think of our lives?

Christmas Colors--By Lauri Robinson

Why red and green?

Fir trees, because of how they remained green during the winter solstice, were considered almost magical and therefore their green coloring came to signify everlasting life. Even before the birth of Jesus people created wreaths from the ‘evergreen’ trees and/or holly and hanged them upon their doors during the cold winter months for prosperity in the spring, and in ancient Rome people displayed wreaths on their doors to signify victory in battles. 

This tradition continued, or was ‘rolled’ into ‘Christmastime’ when the church chose to celebrate the birth of Christ on December 25^th. The color red was then added to represent the blood of Christ.

My father’s favorite color was red.  He was also a “Christmas Eve” shopper. I tried hard to get him to shop earlier, but finally had to concede it wasn’t going to happen. So no matter how many people I was expecting for dinner that night, I knew my Christmas Eve morning would be spent shopping with my dad for one particular present. A red dress for my mother. We deviated a bit over the years, a red skirt and jacket, or one year it was a red coat, but for the most part, it was always a red, somewhat fitted, dress. They were married for almost sixty years, and my mother always acted like that was the first red dress she’d ever received upon opening his package. 

When my father died in 2007, I told my sister I was going to buy a red dress for the funeral, and that tumbled throughout the family. At dad’s funeral all the girls, right down to my granddaughter, not yet six months old, were dressed in red and the men of the family wore red shirt or ties. That year, though I didn’t buy it on Christmas Eve morning (I’ll always keep that morning sacred by not shopping), I bought my mom a red blouse, not wanting to try and replace dad’s gifts, but to keep the tradition going. And did so every year until this one. Mom passed away in June. While shopping the other day I saw a blouse she would have loved, so I bought it, and will wear it tonight with honor as the family gathers.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  

And, I must take a moment to mention my next Harlequin Undone, Disobeying the Marshal goes on sale January 1, 2012.

Disobeying the Marshal

El Dorado, Kansas, 1881
   

Marshal Cord Donovan believed he was married to his badge—until one incredible night in Florie Rockford's bed changed everything. When Florie unexpectedly arrives in town with a desperate warning for his safety, Cord is determined to show her that their spark burns so hot that one night will never be enough.

But Florie has returned with more than just a warning—the consequence of their passion defies all the lawman's rules!

A short excerpt:

Florie lowered onto the couch and took a deep breath. It was too late to turn back. She was here. Glancing up was a mistake. The way he cast those caring eyes at her had her heart pounding and her insides growing warmer by the second. The uncanny way he made her feel was scandalous for sure, and she’d thought of little else since he’d left her house three months ago.

Could she tell him everything? Right now, gazing at him, it was hard to think. She begged her senses to remain, and settled her gaze on his shoulder, the exact spot she’d dug out the bullet. “How’s your wound?”

A deep frown formed between his hazel eyes. “Fine. What did you want to tell me?”

Twirling and twisting, her mind sought to pull up something besides the images she treasured. The ones of them alone, together. The ones she dreamed of reliving.

“Florie?” He knelt down in front of her.

He was so handsome—and honorable. The urgency she’d felt back at the farm zipped through her, settling real terror in her chest. “Those men you were chasing that day you were shot. It was the Winter gang, wasn’t it?”

“Were they at your house?” he asked. “Did they do this to you?”

Fear burned her throat as she whispered, “They’re after you, Cord. They’re going to kill you.”

His hand cupped her cheek. “The Winter brothers won’t hurt me.” His gaze never wavered. “Answer me. Did they do this to you?”

“They might already be in town, Cord, you have to leave, or…” She bit her lips. The desire to wrap her arms around him and hold on was so strong she trembled from head to toe. She’d put his life in danger, and now she had to save him. Had to. “I came—”