Sunday, July 13, 2014

Travel by Horse

By Kathleen Rice Adams

Horses are a staple of western fiction. When writing or reading about them, it’s helpful to understand common terms about the way they move. Whether or not an experienced horseman can see the animal, he or she can tell how fast the critter is moving by the distinctive sound of hooves striking the earth.

Walk
Walk
A walk is a four-beat gait, meaning three hooves remain on the ground while the fourth moves. The walk is a very comfortable gait for riders. It’s smooth, producing only a slight swaying motion. At a walk, riders have no trouble keeping their butts in the saddle.

Horses can walk all day, even under saddle, but they don’t move very far very fast. The average horse will cover three to four miles an hour at a walk; some move as slowly as two miles per hour.

Trot and jog
Technically, a jog is slower than a trot, but practically—at least in western riding—both gaits are referred to as jogging. Jogging is a two-beat gait in which diagonal pairs of legs move together: left rear with right front; right rear with left front.

Jog
Trotting primarily is associated with horse shows (during which judges want to see that a horse can move at variety of speeds on command) and harness racing. Racing trotters often cover as much ground as quickly as other horses gallop. Some harness races require horses to pace, in which the legs on each side move together while the legs on the other remain on the ground.

The jog is a horse’s natural working gait. If left to his own devices (and not escaping a threat), a horse will move at a jog when he wants to cover distance quickly. Horses can jog for a long time without tiring, but many riders can’t take the pace. With a few notable exceptions, a jog can be extremely jarring and puts enormous strain on the muscles in a rider’s legs, back, and abdomen. Working cowboys who spend a good deal of time in the saddle may move their horses at a jog, but pleasure riders generally try to avoid the gait if they value their butts, which slap the saddle with each step until the rider learns to “move with the horse.”

At a jog, horses cover an average of about eight miles an hour. So-called “gaited horses” like the Tennessee Walking Horse and the American Saddlebred don’t jog or trot. Instead, their natural middle gait, a “running walk,” can cover as many as fifteen miles in an hour. Because all four hooves move independently, a running walk is a comfortable gait for riders. Both breeds are primarily pleasure, not working, horses.

Lope
Lope or canter
Lope and canter are essentially the same gait, a three-beat movement in which three hooves are off the ground while a rear leg supports the horse’s weight. At a lope, horses can cover about ten to fifteen miles in an hour; some can reach speeds of up to twenty-seven miles per hour.

Note: Horses under western saddle lope. Canter is an English-riding term, possibly derived from Canterbury.

Gallop
The gallop, a four-beat gait, is the horsey equivalent of run and averages about thirty miles per hour. Horses bred for speed, like Thoroughbreds and racing Quarter Horses, can gallop as fast as fifty miles per hour.
Gallop

In the wild, horses gallop in order to escape a threat. Most horses can gallop for only a mile or two without risking serious injury or death. (Yes, some horses will run themselves to death at the urging of a rider.)

How far can a horse travel?
How far a horse can travel in a day depends on the horse’s condition, the availability of food and water, and the terrain he is asked to cover. At a combination of lope and walk, a young horse in optimal condition can travel fifty to sixty miles a day in good weather over flat terrain, as long as he is allowed to drink and graze every couple of hours. The faster a horse moves, the more often he will need to rest, eat, and drink.

Though it may seem counter-intuitive, the longer a horse moves fast, the shorter the distance it can cover in a day. Pony Express riders galloped about 10 miles (or about half an hour) before changing horses and usually covered 60-70 miles a day, but that was an exceptionally grueling pace for the rider. A good average pace is about 40 miles per day, which is the speed the U.S. Cavalry aimed for during the nineteenth century. Over uneven terrain or in bad weather, a horse and rider would do well to cover twenty miles per day. In the mountains, ten miles per day would be a good pace.

Many cowboys carried grain—usually corn or oats—in order to get more out of their horses. Grain provides increased carbohydrate-based energy. Sweet feed, which contains molasses, was not as common unless a horse was stabled. Horses love sweet feed, but it’s not good for them except as a treat.

Remember, too, that most working cowboys preferred—and still prefer—to ride geldings over mares or stallions. As a rule, geldings are much more tractable than either stallions (which can be a handful at best and a nightmare if a mare anywhere in the vicinity is in season) or mares (who naturally establish a pecking order within a herd and can be cranky). In the wild, a mare runs the herd; stallions are tolerated only for breeding and protection.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

HURRICANE!





Recently, I ventured into plotting my second western historical novella titled, Matelyn and the Texas Ranger. The story takes place in Texas around 1875. So while planning how I would put my heroine through h-e-double hockey sticks, I discovered something that I'd bet most Texans don't know. There was another devastating hurricane before the 1900 Galveston strike.

The name of the town was Indianola and it was a major Texas port. In 1853, it had been relocated to Matagorda Bay and Powderhorn Bayou to take advantage of deeper waters.The steamships of Morgan Lines could easily navigate these waters making them able to enter the bay through Pass Cavallo and sail to Indianola in a few hours.

The relocation, however, made the town more vulnerable to rising waters and storm surges from tropical storms and hurricanes. It also meant the road leading out of the town would've been submerged making it impossible for the residents to escape. They would've been forced to ride out the storm in their homes only a few feet above sea level.

The hurricane of September 1875 inflicted extensive damage and loss of life. Approximately 300 people were killed and nearly three-quarters of the town's buildings were destroyed. Unwilling to concede to the forces of nature, the locals only partially rebuilt the town. A mere eleven years later, in August of 1886, another hurricane wreaked havoc to this area of the Texas Coast and finally brought to an end this once prosperous frontier seaport. Below is what's left of Indianola today.



I guess you can tell how my heroine, Matelyn O'Donnell, arrived in Texas. Now she has to make her way to North Central Texas. Wish her luck.


My western historical romance novella I told you about last month, Katie and the Irish Texan, is now on Amazon. I hope you'll give it a read and let me know what you think.

Katie and the Irish Texan


  








As always, I appreciate you joining me today. Please leave a comment, if only to say hi. I love our talks!

Carra

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Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Spanish Female Ranchers in Historic Texas

By Celia Yeary


 In my first Western Historical, All My Hopes and Dreams, a female secondary character almost upstaged my heroine. I named her Starr Hidalgo. I dressed her in men’s pants that were too tight, a loose shirt, cowboy boots, and a gaucho hat that matched her black hair and eyes. She ran the adjoining ranch for her ailing parents, and she knew as much about cattle and horses as any man. Riding and ranching came natural to her, and any male in her vicinity gravitated toward her.
 The hero in this novel, Ricardo Romero, had a romantic history with this fiery woman, but had chosen a blond Anglo from the east to marry and bring home. Starr was not happy about this and disliked my heroine, Cynthia Harrington. She made her unhappiness known to both Ricado and Cynthia, but her anger had no effect on either of them.

Starr nagged at me, though, and since the release of that book, the character has returned to my mind on occassion. Readers made as many comments about Starr as they did Cynthia—and not always in a positive manner. You see, I had made Starr seem like the “bad girl.”
She wasn't bad--but she was very angry.
Since I believed Starr Hidalgo would be a good heroine in her own story, I researched Texas women ranchers.

The Spaniards first conquered the region in the 1500s and settled permanently in the 1700s.
Many married the Indian women of the Americas and the women became Mexican-Americans.
 But some Spaniards tried to keep the line pure and marry within the Spanish population.

Under Spanish law, women had community property rights. They owned, inherited, administered, bought, and sold property. 
Spain and Mexico made more than sixty land grants to women. In 1798, Rosa Marie Hinojosa de Balli owned one-third of the lower Rio Grande valley.

Imagine owning such an enormous amount of property. In 1770, the widow Marie Ana Cubelo owned 3000 head of cattle, the second largest herd in Bexar (San Antonio). Others held land and cattle as did these two more well known women.

After Texas won its independence from Mexico in 1836, most Mexican-American women maintained loyalties to Mexico. The process of land dispossession affected Tejano landed families in Goliad and Hidalgo counties after 1880. An attorney, Luz Escalera De Leon of Victoria, transacted twenty-five land sales, though most Texas Mexicans were not able to protect their land.   

Some of the women who managed to save their land for her family continued running cattle into the Twentieth Century. Some of these ranches still exist today.

I had hoped to write Starr Hidalgo’s story. She would own her family ranch after the death of both parents, and she’d find herself up against some force that might destroy her ranch. What would be that force? 
Whatever it was, you may be sure a strong man would appear who was capable of stealing Starr’s heart.
~~*~~
And recently, along came the new publishing house owned by Cheryl Pierson and Livia Washburn called Prairie Rose Publications. I read the requirements for one of the anthologies titled COWBOY CRAVINGS, and decided to write Starr's story to submit.
What man would be equal to Starr? Why, Conrad Taylor, of course, the foreman who plays a big secondary part in one of my recent releases Texas Dreamer.
Oh, I wanted a story for Conrad so much, when the idea struck! 

Starr and Conrad, the perfect pair, both handsome, both smart and good, and both wishing for someone to love.
Now, "Starr Bright" is one of four stories in the anthology Cowboy Cravings
 

Blurb:
Craving a cowboy on these hot summer nights? Here are four stories that are sure to turn up the heat! If you love tall, dark, and handsome cowboys with a touch of danger thrown in, and the ladies that show them they've met their match, Cowboy Cravings is a must-have. Fast guns, smooth action, and hot love sizzle in one delicious recipe for these spicy stories. The summer has never been hotter in the Old West than it is when you have to satisfy those COWBOY CRAVINGS!



EXCERPT from Starr Bright:
"Hola, mi amigo." Her voice was deep and throaty, just the sort that would make any red-blooded man grovel.

She pulled off her hat, dismounted, and hung her hat on the saddle horn. As she approached Conrad, she threw back her head and fluffed her long black glossy hair.

He didn't move. Good thing the fence was between them.

"Morning, Starr. What brings you out here so early in the morning?"

Smiling slightly, she said, "You."

Lord have mercy. He tried not to even blink.

"Yeah? What do I have that you want?"

Two could play this game.

She paused and smiled. "Water. I forgot mine."

She never forgot anything.

"Sure."

He leaned down and picked up the canteen, uncapped it, and handed it over the fence.

She tipped it up, leaned her head back, and took a good long slow drink. He couldn't have looked away if someone had leveled a pistol at his head.
~~*~~*~~
The authors and stories in this anthology are:
Cheryl Pierson-Hearts and Diamonds
Celia Yeary-Starr Bright
Kristy McCaffrey-Lily and Mesquite Joe
Kathleen Rice Adams-Making Peace

 

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Fort Davis - Protecting Early West Texas


 
I always thought it strange that my folks spent their honeymoon at the Davis Mountains in Texas, but then maybe not. We took our family on a road trip in 2005 that took us to that part of the world.
Troopers established a post in 1854 on the eastern side of the Davis Mountains. These men bravely defended this part of West Texas from Apache and Comanche attack. In 1861, confederate troops occupied this area until Union forces took over in the summer of 1862. The fort was abandoned soon after and gathered dust until 1867, when the U.S. Calvary returned and began construction on the various buildings that would secure Fort Davis a more permanent place in West Texas.
By 1869, most of the buildings necessary for fort life had been constructed. The men manning the fort saw to the safety of freighters, mail wagons, travelers and settlers from Apache and Comanche attack on the San Antonio-El Paso Road. Some of the more famous inhabitants of the fort were the Buffalo soldiers (the 24th and 25th U.S. Infantry and the 9th and 10th U.S. Cavalry which were all black regiments).
Life for a soldier wasn’t easy and they adhered to a strict routine. Reveille sounded at 5:30 AM and the day was spent grooming horses and training for battle. As their horses were a main part of Calvary life, stable call was announced twice a day. The day ended at 5:15 PM followed by supper at 6:00 PM. Not only was life inside the fort rather tedious a boring, but many troopers had to combat a language barrier with other troopers. Enlisted men and even troopers came from a variety of backgrounds. Many were immigrants who didn’t have full command of the English language. Some were criminals seeking a place to hide or serving time in the military instead of time in jail.
An enlisted man’s starting pay was $13 a month. Examples of commissary prices in 1885 included: flour at 7¢/lb, sardines at 25¢/lb, cigars at 3¢ and sugar at 25¢/lb.
Fort Davis continued as a military post until it was abandoned in 1891 having served its usefulness. The town of Fort Davis continued, though. In the 1880s, the town became an important ranching center. Jeff Davis County was established in 1887 with Fort Davis as the county seat. The town population suffered a blow once the fort was abandoned and businessmen tried various schemes to revitalize the area. One such dream was to make it a western movie center but the Great Depression saw an end to that plan. In 1946, the property was bought by David A. Simmons of Houston, former president of the American Bar Association.  His hope was to restore the fort and turn it into a resort for tourists. He died before seeing his dream bear fruit but in September, 1961, Fort Davis National Historic Site opened its doors for all to enjoy. 

Friday, July 4, 2014

An Imperfect Hero






The draw to every romance I read is always the hero of the story. He's the backbone that holds everything together, the knight in shining armor who rides in at the last moment to save the day and almost always, the hero is the stuff of dreams. Tall, strong, and willing to fight to the death for the woman he loves.

When I starting writing A Willow Creek Christmas, I was faced with a character who was so unlike any I'd ever written before. Noah Lloyd was flawed and didn't fit into my mold of the perfect hero. He left me a bit bewildered. I didn't know how to handle him, so I sat back, gave him free reign and let what happen, happen. He surprised me.

An ex-civil war soldier with more wounds than most. Scared not only physically, but soul deep. He was a man who had given up and lived his life as far from people as he could, but finding a half-starved woman and her two kids in a run down shack in the woods changed all that.

This month over on my Facebook page, I've been highlighting Holiday stories in a big Christmas in July event, which is what made me think of Noah. He's not the typical romance hero, but he's the only one that still comes back to me weekly. Its been over a year since I wrote his book and I still can't get him out of my head. His sacrifice for the heroine of the story was greater than most. He had to tear down the walls he'd put up and learn to trust his heart again.

Here's a small excerpt that was the first turning point between the two, the one that started chipping away at that hardened exterior he'd erected.


Excerpt


Annoyance fierce enough to scald his flesh washed over him and he looked back down at the brush Aaron was hiding under. His temper flared an instant later. "Get out from under there, Aaron. You've wasted enough of my time as it is." To his amazement, Aaron crawled out and stood, his head bowed. "Get back to the marshal's house. You've worried your mother enough for one day."

He followed the boy back, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Keri ran down the walkway when she spotted them, tears leaving wet trails down her cheeks. She grabbed Aaron when she reached him, fell to her knees there in the snow, and wrapped him in her arms and sobbed. Noah stopped at the gate, watching them. Would Keri stay with the Averys or would she try to leave at the first opportunity she had? They'd left the comfort of their home for reasons Keri had yet to tell him about so what was to stop her from doing so again?

She looked up at him, her eyes large and filled with tears, gratitude shining so bright the sight twisted inside Noah's chest. Idiotic thoughts filled his head a moment later. Thoughts of letting her stay with him until her brother could be found. He tried to chase the notion away by reminding himself he'd slept in a chair for a solid week, but the idea nagged at his conscience until he seriously thought about it.

It was a bad idea. The words whispered inside his head until a reason it wasn't chased the doubt away.  A reason he didn't want to think about, especially when Keri stood, her hands resting on Aaron's bony shoulders as she held his gaze and smiled. It was the tiniest curve at the corners of her mouth but the effect it had on him caused his entire body to jolt. The strain on her face melted away as she looked at him, her eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, locked with his own, and everything around him seemed to narrow down into a pinprick of light until nothing remained inside of it but her. This waif of a woman with eyes so soulful he felt as if he was drowning in them.

He blinked and looked away, trying to get his overactive imagination under control. The curve of her lips could barely even be called a smile, yet the effect was felt as if she bestowed him with one so blindingly brilliant he'd been dazzled by it. And maybe he had. Maybe the fact she could look at him without disgust or pity filling her eyes was enough. The fact she offered him that tiny smile to begin with. Whatever it was, Noah knew he'd been wrong about one thing. Keri Hilam wasn't the fool. It was him. A fool to even think of keeping her when every fiber of his being begged him to walk away, to forget she even existed. But the moment he looked back up and saw her captivating eyes still fixed on him, his heart gave one mighty thump in his chest hard enough to let him know he was still alive.

And for the first time since the war ended, he was actually glad he was.


This story is priced at .99¢ through the month of July and is available in eBook format at the following book stores.



A Willow Creek Christmas by Lily Graison 

Running from a life she no longer wanted…
Widowed with two young children, Keri Hilam is desperate to escape her abusive brother in law, going so far as sneaking away in the dead of night in hopes of finding a better life. She never regrets leaving, not even when they find themselves stranded, starving, and alone. Fate brings them to Willow Creek, Montana, where they’re rescued by an unlikely hero, an ex-confederate soldier who seems more monster than man.

Hiding from a past he can’t seem to forget…
The war leaves Noah Lloyd scarred and bitter. When the girl he left behind broke his heart, he turned his back on the life he used to know, and sought refuge in a dusty little town that afforded him the solitude he wanted. Finding a woman and her kids hunkered down in an abandoned line shack in the middle of a blizzard is the last thing he needs. They’re ragged, half starved and vulnerable, but he’s determined to leave the trio in the care of the town marshal.

Can a future together erase all the pain…
But the innocence of a child at Christmas breaks through Noah’s hard exterior and Keri’s tender care allows him to see that life may be worth living. All he has to do is let go of his past and let this unlikely family love him.

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If you'd like to join me and 30 of my author friends, head over to my Facebook page for my Christmas in July event. There's a new featured book and giveaway daily, also a chance to win a brand new Kindle Fire!

I hope I see you there.


About Lily Graison

USA TODAY  bestselling author Lily Graison writes historical western romances and dabbles in contemporary and paranormal romance. First published in 2005, Lily has written over a dozen romance novels that range from sweet to spicy.

She lives in Hickory, North Carolina with her husband, three high-strung Yorkies and more cats than she can count and is mother of two and grandmother of three. On occasion, she can be found at her sewing machine creating 1800’s period clothing or participating in civil war reenactments and area living history events. When not portraying a southern belle, you can find her at a nearby store feeding her obsession for all things resembling office supplies.

To see the dresses Lily has created, visit her Pinterest page.

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Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Reflections from the Old West: How to Enjoy a Dance

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
You often hear of the lone bandit, but you seldom hear of the lone cowboy. They usually traveled in pairs, especially the bronc busters. They'd often pool their finances so one of them could bet on a horse race or get in a poker game. If one had money, they both had money, and if one was broke you could bet your bottom dollar they were both flat.
Often you'd see a long, tall, gangling peeper and a sawed-off runt, as different mentally and morally as they were physically, team together. In the spring and summer they'd go from ranch to ranch breaking horses. When that kind of work was scarce or out of season, they'd either ride chuck line or hunt jobs with the roundups.
If an outfit needed only one man, nothing doin', both had to have jobs together or they'd travel on. If one got into trouble they were both into it up to their necks regardless of right or wrong. These old cowboys would pal up 'till death do us part' or until a girl 'throwed her loop' on one of 'em, and that was worse than death to the one that was left.
Such a pair of pals used to inhabit (or infest, as the case may be) our country down on the Rio Grande. Old Slim was about six-feet-two-inches and Shorty about five-feet in his socks (if he wore such things). Once in a great while they would attend a dance. Slim didn't dance and Shorty couldn't, for in just a short time he would become paralyzed on hooch and find a vacant chair against the wall and there he'd sit and quietly dangle his feet, keeping time to the music and humming a little tune.
On one occasion, Shorty got filled to the gills and located himself a comfortable seat in a corner of the hall and Slim coiled his six-feet-two on the floor alongside his pal. Both were enjoying the affair to the utmost in spite of the various and sundry fights that were being pulled off outside. It seemed that a big husky, the bully of the community, had gotten hold of some fighting whiskey and was matching one fight after another.
After whipping several on the outside and intimidating the balance of the crowd, he decided he'd kinda clean up any irresponsible persons on the inside. He was pretty well soused and also flushed with victory. He staggered up in front of Shorty and said, ''What in hell you patting your feet for? Pipe down or I'll twist your nose." Shorty didn't realize that he was being spoken to; besides, his vision was so impaired with booze he couldn't much see past his nose, so he didn't reply, just continued to pat his foot and hum his little tune.
That enraged the cock-of-the-walk more than if Shorty had replied, so he said, ''I'll twist your nose and drag you outta here, you little dried-up shrimp." When he reached out to make good his boast, old Slim shot that fist of his up like the strike of a rattler and connected on the point of the bully's chin. The bully lit into the middle of the floor flat on his back. Such things being common occurrences, the dancers just danced around him.
Slim coiled himself back in his corner and Shorty continued patting his hand humming his toodle-do and toodle-dum. When the bully came to, he got up and shook his head like a catfish in muddy water and walked up in front of Shorty with wonderment on his face and stared at him until he attracted Shorty's attention. Shorty said to him, ''G'wan now, big boy or I'll knock you down ag'in tweedle-de de twiddle dum--'' There was no further interruption of the festivities.
Written by George Phillips in True West Magazine June, 1962