Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Oh, the things we learn while researching....


This weekend as I started researching for a new book, I came across an amazing article that I just have to share.

To begin with, the story I’m researching for will be set in western Kansas, close to the Colorado border. I enjoy writing stories set in that area because I lived there for ten years while growing up. I loved when family and friends would come to visit us because it meant a trip to Dodge City to visit Boot Hill, Meade to see the Dalton Gang Hideout, or one of the many others historical sites. Many more wonderful memories were created years later, when my husband and I would take our children to Kansas on vacations and visit all those historical sites again.

The western Kansas area was a somewhat barren land, trees were sparse, but water and grazing land was plentiful, which made that part of the state ideal for live-stock. The coming of the railroads allowed for easy shipment to markets. Kansas flourished during the years cattle were driven north to the rail heads. Towns were formed around the cattle market and thrived. So did ranches, which will be the setting of the book I'm researching.

While looking for information about Kansas prior to the cattle drive days, I came across information about an Army post in the area I want to use for my story and an amazing tale. In September of 1874 a man and his wife, along with their seven children were traveling near the Kansas/Colorado border when they were attacked by a band of Cheyenne. The only survivors were the the four youngest children, all girls, and they were taken captive. Soldiers at the nearby fort heard about the massacre and began searching for the girls. Due to the harsh winter that settled upon the area that year, the two youngest girls, ages 5 and 7, were left on the plains of the Texas Panhandle by the Cheyenne. It was estimated they spent over six weeks, surviving on their own, before the two girls were found by soldiers. The other two girls were eventually found as well. They had been split up and were traveling with different bands. Due to the soldiers’ efforts and negotiations, the other two girls were released by the Cheyenne in February of 1875 and all four sisters were reunited shortly thereafter.

I just can’t imagine two young children, ages 5 and 7, surviving six weeks on the winter plains of the Texas Panhandle. They had to have been very intelligent and resourceful little girls.

Other than a possible mention, my story will not contain this tidbit of local history, but both The Moccassin Speaks by Arlene Jauken and Girl Captives of the Cheyenne by Grace Meredith were based upon the tragedy of these girls’ family if you’re interested.

The book that I’m researching for right now will be released by Harlequin in 2018. I’ll have three releases with them this year, the next one being The Cowboy’s Orphan Bride in April. Not so surprising, this book takes place during the cattle drive years and is set in Dodge City.

Reunited with the cowboy!

Long ago, orphans Bridgette Banks and Garth McCain made a promise to stay together. But it's been years since they were parted, and Bridgette's almost given up hope! So when Garth's cattle trail passes her town, she won't let him leave her behind again…

Sparks fly as they're reunited—especially when the cowboy catches Bridgette telling everyone she's his bride! Faced with a past he thought he'd lost forever, Garth realizes this impulsive beauty might be the future he never thought he deserved.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Traveling by Steamboat

By: Peggy Henderson

While doing some research for my current WIP, I came across this article I wrote for an earlier book in that particular series, and thought it would be fun to share here. My characters usually travel by horseback or on foot through the remote mountains of the Rockies, but for my book, Teton Splendor, I needed them to travel part-way via steamboat up the Ohio River. I never thought I'd have to revisit that again, but now that I'm working on another book in the series, I found myself revisiting this method of transportation.
                                                       

Before the railroads took over as the fastest way to travel west, steamboats were the premier  mode of transportation along the Mississippi River and its tributaries. In the 1820’s and 30’s, steamboats were mainly used to transport furs, lead, and army supplies to forts and encampments along the Mississippi. In the late 1840’s, settlers swarmed into the new Minnesota Territory, and for the first time, entire families could travel together. 


Early settlers, however, usually did not get to travel in luxury. Only the wealthy could afford the luxurious accommodations that were available on the finer steamboats. The average settler had few comforts. The poorer passengers slept on the freight decks, which also housed the boiler, fuel, and cargo. There was little or no protection from the elements for deck passengers, who would sleep on cargo crates or bales. They were allowed to cook their own meals using stoves provided by the captain. However, it was often too crowded to even prepare a simple meal.  Otherwise, they could eat with the crew if they paid the cook. 








Those who could afford the price could travel on the upper deck in private cabins. These passengers ate their meals in the state room, and were entertained in the grand salon. Some of the finer steamboats featured grand salons that ran the entire three hundred foot length of the boat, and were considered floating palaces, with heavy wood furniture, gilded ceilings, and mirrored walls. Dining experiences rivaled the best restaurants in New York at the time. Some boats had bands or musical entertainment, and even theater performances. 



 

Traveling by steamboat was not without danger, however. Deck passengers were in constant danger of boiler explosions, or being shoved overboard. Boiler explosions were common and often disastrous. Boats were often caught on sandbars or snags, and many times the passengers were asked to get off the boat to lighten the load. Captains didn’t always return for their passengers in those instances. And, of course, the river was teeming with thieves who loved to prey on unsuspecting passengers. 
Overall, steamboat travel was preferred to overland travel for its speed (up to eight miles per hour!) and comparative luxury, until the railroad’s influence in the 1860’s and 70’s.



Peggy L Henderson
Western Historical and Time Travel Romance
“Where Adventure Awaits and Love is Timeless”

Award-Winning and Best-Selling Author of:
Yellowstone Romance Series
Teton Romance Trilogy
Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series
Blemished Brides Western Historical Romance Series
Wilderness Brides Historical Romance Series
               




Peggy L Henderson is an award-winning, best-selling western historical and time travel romance author of the Yellowstone Romance Series, Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series, Teton Romance Trilogy, and the Blemished Brides and Wilderness Brides Western Historical Romance Series. When she’s not writing about Yellowstone, the Tetons, or the old west, she’s out hiking the trails, spending time with her family and pets, or catching up on much-needed sleep. She is happily married to her high school sweetheart. Along with her husband and two sons, she makes her home in Southern California.







Friday, January 20, 2017

The Posse is Coming!


Nowadays, a ‘posse’ usually signifies a group of friends or the followers of a celebrity or group such as a rock band. Of course, the word had a very different meaning in the Old West. Any western movie fan has seen a posse ride after outlaws, probably in many different movies.
Posse that killed outlaw Ned Christie posing with his body; Nov. 1892; public domain

But have you ever wondered where the word ‘posse’ came from and what it means? I looked it up online and learned the word’s first known use was in 1645 as a shortening of the medieval Latin legal term posse comitatus, meaning ‘power or authority of the county.’
Battle of Naseby, English Civil War; 17th century UK painting, artist unknown; public domain

In 17th century England, at the start of the English Civil War, all sides employed written edicts to persuade citizens to assemble. Two documents commonly used by those siding with Parliament were the "Militia Ordinance" and the older "Commissions of Array.” On the Royalist side in Cornwall, Parliament supporters were indicted by a grand jury as disturbers of the peace, and the posse comitatus was called out to expel them from the county.

In 1887 Britain, section 8 of the Sheriffs Act formalized the powers of sheriffs to enforce posse comitatus. Anyone who refused to answer the sheriff’s call for help in arresting a felon could be fined and imprisoned for a year. If unable to pay the fine, the person would be imprisoned for two years. Those English didn’t put up with slackers!

The British provisions for posse comitatus were repealed by the Criminal Law Act of 1967, but a  sheriff can still take ‘the power of the county’ if he needs to arrest resisters.
1922 posse captured murderers Manuel Martinaz & Placidio Silvas (back row center)
 after largest manhunt in history of the Southwest; public domain

In the US, while posses helped enforce law and order during frontier days, they could pose a threat, illustrated by the Lattimer Massacre of 1897. Nineteen unarmed striking coal miners at the Lattimer mine near Hazleton, Pennsylvania were shot and killed by a Luzerne County sheriff's posse. Many more were wounded. Such incidents ended the use of posses to contain civil unrest.

What made me investigate the origins and use of posses? Well, it so happens I am part of a posse of authors who have a collection of western historical romance short stories titled The Posse coming out in March. We’re planning a Facebook cover release party with giveaways on February 15. For updates, please like and follow the page: https://www.facebook.com/thepossebook.1


Fragment of The Posse cover

Here is an excerpt from my story, The Schoolmarm’s Hero.

What’s happening: It’s autumn 1880 in Colorado; Schoolmarm Matilda Schoenbrun has been kidnapped by a pair of outlaws. Marshal Trace Balfour leads a posse to rescue her.

Three days passed without sighting the outlaws. Their trail led into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, climbing over stony ridges, winding through creeks, and following low, rugged canyons. The rougher the route grew, the longer it took Trace to find their tracks. The process slowed the posse, causing his men to grow restless. They’d brought enough grub to last a week or more, but they hadn’t really expected the hunt for the fugitives to last that long. Worse yet, the excitement of the chase had worn off.

Ben Lambert fought for the Yanks in the Civil War. Strong as an ox, Saul Davis could flatten a man with his fist alone. Charlie Putnam wasn’t a big man, but he learned how to fight in his silver mining days. The other two men, Jim Curtis and Joe Wilkes were veterans of the frontier army. All five knew how to handle a gun and defend themselves, but not so their wives and children back in town. This was still a wild country. Trace knew the men wanted to get back home soon to protect their families and property.

The posse members’ discontent boiled over when he lost the outlaws’ trail. He’d followed their tracks down into a steep-sided, dry arroyo that split into a tangle of smaller outlets, barely wide enough in some places for a single man and horse to negotiate. After picking his way through three of these winding defiles without finding a sign of the fugitives’ trail, he backtracked to where the arroyo split. The grumble of muttered curses from the men grew loud.

“Marshal Balfour, this is pointless,” Ben Lambert said. “You’ll never find their trail in this maze. It’s time to face facts and turn back."

“Yeah, we might as well go home,” Charlie Putnam said. “It’s too late, anyhow. The schoolmarm is likely dead or wishing she was by now.”

Fury flared inside Trace. Charging his horse at Putnam, he caused the man’s mount to dance sideways. Charlie’s eyes widened in fear just before Trace landed a hard right on his jaw. The storekeeper cried out and nearly tumbled from his saddle.

“I won’t abide talk like that,” Trace growled.

He backed his horse to face the group, drawing a deep breath to calm down. “Whoever wants to turn around can leave now, but I’m going on. I’ll find Mattie or die trying.” He realized he’d revealed his feelings for her but didn’t care. The other men needed to know where he stood.

He surveyed the group, gazing into each man’s eyes. No one challenged his statement and none made a move to turn back. Putnam hung his head, rubbing his jaw. “I’m right sorry, Marshal. I oughtn’t to have said what I did. It was cold of me.”

Trace acknowledged his apology with a nod. Ordering them to wait where they sat, he set his hat and rode into another of the narrow offshoots of the arroyo. Lucky for Mattie, this one proved to be the right one. He spotted the outlaws’ tracks ascending a rock ledge from the depression. Backtracking once again, he was pleased to see every man sat where he’d left them.

“I picked up their trail,” he announced. “Let’s go.” Getting no argument, he led them out of the troublesome web of false trails onto a dry, rolling plateau, where the wind blew bunch grass nearly flat, threatening to whip off their hats.

The trail they followed angled northwest. He pondered if Mattie’s kidnappers had a destination in mind, or were they wandering where the wind took them.

Late that afternoon, dark clouds billowed in the west, with distant flares of lightning. As a stripling, Trace had punched cattle down along the Rio Grande, where he grew up. He carried vivid memories of another rider who got hit by lightning. It had killed both man and horse. He didn’t want to witness such a thing again.

“We need to find shelter fast,” he said, to which the others readily agreed. Rain pelted them by the time they found an abandoned sod house in the side of a low hill. A pole corral stood nearby which offered no protection for their horses, but at least, they would be there when the storm passed. The men hurried to unsaddle the animals before closing them in the coral. Trace and his men crowded into the dank, pitch-black soddy.

Saul Davis struck a match. It briefly illuminated a small patch of dirt walls and floor. A plank shelf hung crooked on the wall. A broken slat bunk without a mattress stood beneath the shelf. “Hell of a place to call home,” Saul commented in his deep, barrel-chested voice. He blew out his match as the flame neared his fingers and lit another.

“I lived in a hole in the ground like this one when a kid in Kansas,” Charlie Putnam said. “My Dad had set his mind to growing wheat and corn there. He promised to build us a fine big house one day.”

“Did he succeed?” Trace asked.

“Naw, the border troubles started and pretty soon he went off to fight for the Union. He never came back.” Changing the subject, Charlie said, “You know, there might be a lantern in here somewhere.” He lit his own match, poking around in the dark corners. Sure enough, he recovered a dented lantern. Although low on kerosene, it provided steady light until the storm blew away two hours later.

By then, night was upon them. Although Trace begrudged the time lost to the storm, he knew they must wait for daylight. Standing at the corral where the horses stood drowsing after being drenched, he leaned his arms on the top rail, staring into the starlit night, thinking of Mattie. Had her captors sought shelter or had they ridden into the teeth of the storm with her? The thought made him sick with rage and frustration.

Footsteps squished through the mud behind him. Turning, he made out Saul Davis’s bulky form approaching. The big man halted and leaned on the corral next to him.

“Nice night. The rain cooled things off a might,” he observed.

“A might.”

After a moment’s silence, Saul said, “Reckon you’re worryin’ about our pretty schoolmarm, eh?”

“Yeah.” Trace shifted his stance, uncomfortable with putting it into words.

“You think you can find a scrap of those buzzards’ trail after all the rain?”

“I don’t know.” Saul had put his finger on Trace’s worst worry. If the rain washed away the outlaws’ trail, he’d have no choice but to send his men home. As for himself, he would search every acre of Colorado and beyond if necessary, until he found Mattie.


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Wednesday, January 18, 2017

“John of the Mountains”, My Hero by Sarah J. McNeal



 John Muir

Many of you may already be acquainted with John Muir, or “John of the Mountains” as he later became known, the Scottish-American naturalist. As well as being an author of many books about nature and conservation, he also dedicated his life to the preservation of wilderness in the United States, particularly the vast western wildlife. He founded the conservation organization, the Sierra Club, a community of members who fight to preserve our wild lands and the creatures who live there.

John Muir was born in Dunbar, United Kingdom on April 21, 1838. His birthplace is a four-story stone house in Dunbar, East Lothian, Scotland. He was the third of eight children by Daniel Muir and Ann Gilrye. His earliest recollections were of taking short walks with his grandfather when he was three. John described his boyhood pursuits in his autobiography, which included fighting, either by re-enacting romantic battles from the Wars of Scottish Independence or just scrapping on the playground, and hunting for birds' nests. He became interested in natural history and the works of Scottish naturalist Alexander Wilson.
Although he spent the majority of his life in America, Muir never forgot his roots in Scotland. He held a strong connection with his birthplace and Scottish identity throughout his life. He greatly admired the works of Thomas Carlyle and poetry of Robert Burns; he was known to carry a collection of poems by Burns during his travels through the American wilderness. He also never lost his strong Scottish accent after many years living in America.

In 1866 Muir settled in Indianapolis to work in a wagon wheel factory. In early March 1867, an accident changed the course of his life: a tool he was using slipped and struck him in the eye. He was confined to a darkened room for six weeks, worried whether he would ever regain his sight. When he did, "he saw the world—and his purpose—in a new light". Muir later wrote, "This affliction has driven me to the sweet fields. God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons." From that point on, he determined to "be true to himself" and follow his dream of exploration and study of plants.

In September 1867, Muir undertook a walk of about 1,000 miles from Kentucky to Florida, which he recounted in his book A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf. When Muir arrived at Cedar Keys, he began working for Richard Hodgson at Hodgson's sawmill. However, three days after accepting to work for Hodgson, Muir almost died of a malarial sickness. (It seems every time he went to work for someone, something bad would happen to him. Just sayin’…) One evening in January 1868, Muir climbed onto the Hodgson house roof to watch the sunset. From the roof he saw a ship, the Island Belle, and learned it would soon be sailing for Cuba. Muir boarded the ship, and while in Havana, he spent his hours studying shells and flowers and visiting the botanical garden in the city. Afterwards, he sailed to New York and booked passage to California. Muir served as an officer in the United States Coast Survey, a uniformed government service agency.


John Muir at home with his wife and two daughters

Beginning in 1874, John wrote a series of articles entitled "Studies in the Sierra" that launched his successful career as a writer. He left the mountains and lived for a while in Oakland, California. From there he took many trips, including his first to Alaska in 1879, where he discovered Glacier Bay. In 1880, he married Louie Wanda Strentzel. They moved to Martinez, California where they raised their two daughters, Wanda and Helen. Settling down to some measure into domestic life, Muir went into partnership with his father-in-law and managed the family fruit ranch with great success.

Because of his activism, he managed to preserve the Yosemite Valley, Sequoia National Park and other wilderness areas. The Sierra Club, which he founded, is a prominent American conservation organization to this present day. Because of his activism, John has been admired and honored by many who have given his name to many natural places and establishments: The 211-mile (340 km) John Muir Trail, a hiking trail in the Sierra Nevada, Muir Woods National Monument, Muir Beach, John Muir College, Mount Muir, Camp Muir and Muir Glacier. In Scotland, the John Muir Way, a 130-mile-long route, was named in honor of him.

John Muir in his later years

In his later life, Muir devoted most of his time to the preservation of the Western forests. He petitioned the U.S. Congress for the National Park bill that was passed in 1890, which established Yosemite National Park. The spiritual quality and enthusiasm toward nature expressed in his writings inspired readers, including presidents and congressmen, to take action to help preserve large nature areas. He is today referred to as the "Father of the National Parks" and the National Park Service has produced a short documentary about his life.
John Muir has been considered "an inspiration to both Scots and Americans". Muir's biographer, Steven J. Holmes, believes that Muir has become "one of the patron saints of twentieth-century American environmental activity," both political and recreational. His writings are frequently discussed in books and journals, and he is often quoted by nature photographers such as Ansel Adams. Holmes said, "Muir has profoundly shaped the very categories through which Americans understand and envision their relationships with the natural world."



California's Commemorative Quarter

Muir was noted for being an ecological thinker, political spokesman, and religious prophet, whose writings became a personal guide into nature for countless individuals, making his name almost synonymous with the modern environmental community. 



Commemorative Postage Stamp 

According to author William Anderson, Muir exemplified "the archetype of our oneness with the earth", while biographer Donald Worster says he believed his mission was "...saving the American soul from total surrender to materialism." On April 21, 2013, the first ever John Muir Day was celebrated in Scotland, which marked the 175th anniversary of his birth, paying homage to the conservationist.



I think you can well imagine why I consider John Muir or “John of the Mountains” as a hero. He helped us understand we must take care of our planet and the creatures on it or we lose touch with our spirit.

A few of John Muir's inspirational books:

  




Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media: