Thursday, June 14, 2012

A Little About Me


By Anna Kathryn Lanier

Hello from the Great Smoky Mountains. No, I don’t live in this wonderful spot on Earth, but I am visiting it. As many of you may know, I am a big fan of Brenda Novak’s Auction for Diabetes Research. Well, last year, I won an auction for a week’s stay in Pigeon Forge, TN.  And this is the week I’m taking the vacation with one of daughters and two of my grandchildren.  So far, we are having a wonderful time.

In Cade's Cove - Great Smoky Mountains National Park


Right now, I live outside Houston, TX.  Having been an Air Force brat growing up and then moving around a bit after marrying I have lived in 8 states: Kansas, California, North Caroline, Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Louisiana, and West Virginia. I lived in Texas, New Mexico and Louisiana twice. I also lived on Guam and was an exchange student to Finland while in high school.  Unlike some people, I enjoy moving and traveling. I like meeting new people and seeing new places.

I have written or told stories as far back as I can remember. My first novel was written while I was still in high school and my first romance in my early twenties.  I sent a novel into Harlequin, who rejected it. I mean, who knew you needed an agent, a synopsis or even a query letter?

Since I was a mother by this time, I gave up writing for a few years to be a mother and wife.  In about 2002, I took up writing again and wrote two novels in 6 months. Then I took a creative writing class at the local junior college and learned I knew nothing about how to write, including formatting.  My teacher for that class told me to check out Romance Writers of America and I joined the organization, as well as a local Houston writer’s group, Bay Area Writer’s League.

I was first published in an anthology BAWL put out.  That short story was revamped a few years later as A COWBOY’S DREAM for The Wild Rose Press. But, I’m getting a little ahead of myself.



After working on several novels, I tried my hand at short stories and found I like writing them. I hooked up with one publisher where I had four stories published in various anthologies. Unfortunately, I had a problem with the way I was being treated by the co-publisher and decided to leave them.  At this point, I was still interested in writing Regency historicals, though none of my currently published works was of that time period.

Then a friend told me about The Wild Rose Press, who at that time was looking for Christmas stories set in the west.  I sat down and wrote a short story in four days and sent it in. THE PERFECT GIFT came out a few short months later and I was hooked on cowboys!  Since then, I’ve published three other stories with The Wild Rose Press, the other two being SALVATION BRIDE and A GIFT BEYOND MEASURE. The third is the already mentioned A COWBOY’S DREAM.

For the past year I have not done much writing. Life got in the way, but I do plan to take up my life-long passion again soon.  In the meantime, I am enjoying life with my husband of 25 years, my two daughters, Tiffany and Holly and my three grandchildren, Emma, Ethan, and Lacey. 



And I’ve decided to live by the saying: Never let your memories be greater than your dreams. ~Doug Ivester 

Find out more about me at:

Anna Kathryn Lanier

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Spirit Trilogy



The third book of my Spirit Trilogy, Spirit of the Sky released in May. The Spirit Trilogy is set among the Nez Perce Indians of NE Oregon in the 1700's and 1800’s. It required extensive research to make the lives of the Nez Perce as factual as possible and the events that happened to them at the time.

The paranormal or fantasy aspects of the stories stem from the three siblings who are Nez Perce spirits. They’re shape shifters who watch over the Wallowa band of Nimiipuu(Nez Perce) as animals but can also take the shape of their human counterparts and also shift into smoke and enter other people.

The siblings were made spirits and given the task to watch over the Lake Nimiipuu by the Creator after their father was greedy and thought only of himself, getting many warriors of a northern band of Nimiipuu who had blonde hair and blue eyes killed.

Himiin(Hee-meen) or Wolf prefers the white wolf form to watch over the people of his mountain. He tries the hardest to not be like their father and to always think of others. But because he has the shortest fuse and patience he cannot leave the mountain or he will turn to smoke.

Wewukiye(Way-woo-kee-ya) or Bull Elk prefers to travel about the area as a Bull Elk. He is impressive with his massive antlers and wide chest. But he is the happy-go-lucky jokester of the three and finds it humorous he is the legend told to children that if they misbehave the antlered creature of the lake will come out during the night and take them away. He lives in the lake and has on occasion been seen emerging from the lake which prompted the legend, which is a true legend.

Sa-qan(Saw-kawn) Bald Eagle is the younger sister of the other two. She was given the ability to fly great distances, converse with the Creator, and keep her brothers in line. While she isn’t as fearful of being like her father as Himiin, she takes her duty seriously and has her feathers ruffled many times over the ages but not nearly as badly as when her brothers fall in llove with mortals.

Each sibling finds a mate in their book and Sa-qan finds hers reluctantly as she follows the Lake Nimiipuu during their flight to freedom while being chased by the Army trying to force them onto a reservation.

Blurb for Spirit of the Sky
To save her from oppression, he must save her whole tribe. To give her his heart, he must desert his career…
When the US Army forces the Nimiipuu from their land, Sa-qan, the eagle spirit entrusted with watching over her tribe, steps in to save her mortal niece. Challenging the restrictions of the spirit world, Sa-qan assumes human form and finds an unexpected ally in a handsome cavalry officer.
Certain she is a captive, Lt. Wade Watts, a Civil War veteran, tries to help the blonde woman he finds sheltering a Nez Perce child. While her intelligent eyes reveal she understands his language, she refuses his help. But when Wade is wounded, it is the beautiful Sa-qan who tends him. Wade wishes to stop the killing—Sa-qan will do anything to save her people.
Can their differences save her tribe? Or will their love spell the end of the Nimiipuu?

Excerpt
     She smiled and his heart leapt into his throat. He thought her beautiful from the first moment he saw her standing in the river fiercely protecting the child, but watching her tense face relax and smile, he was smitten. A light and pleasing calm washed over him for the first time in a very long time. He could only bask in the moment briefly. They were enemies.
    “I am from the sky, and I watch over the Nimiipuu.” She nodded her head and flashed him with yet another smile. “You may call me Angel.”
    “Only if you call me Wade.”
     She nodded. “Let me check your wounds. You have moved around.”
     “Why are you taking such good care of me when your warriors left me for dead?”
     Her sunshine gaze peered straight into his eyes. “You saved my niece at the village and the wounded from the Bannock scout. You do not have the thirst to kill like the other soldiers.” She bowed her head and removed the blood encrusted bandage from his shoulder. “The Nimiipuu need you.”
     Her touch warmed his body, tingling the areas around his wounds. He glanced at her small, delicate hands hovering over his injuries. He shut his eyes, and then opened them. Her hands shimmered as if in a fog. His pain subsided, in fact, his body felt well rested.
     A soft lyrical chant rose from her lips as she continued to hover her hands over his wounds. Her eyes remained closed, her light lashes resting on her sun-kissed cheeks. He’d never seen a woman as beautiful as this. He had to learn her true origins and return her to her family.

Buy Link:

Sunday, June 10, 2012

DELORES
Please welcome our guest Delores Goodrick Beggs.

Girlhood With a Horse Named Snowball
by
Delores Goodrick Beggs
I was one of the first girls in our rolling Kansas farm area to wear blue jeans, and I took up wearing them all the time. My city woman mother despaired of me to the extent she purchased for me a pair of green jodhpurs, and informed me jodhpurs were considered acceptable wear for girls who rode horses. Sad to say I never liked jodhpurs and only wore them a few times. I can't count the number of pairs of blue jeans I wore out growing up.

Bicycles were big in those girlhood times and my siblings and I enjoyed the steep hills of the rural Wyandotte County our acreage was on. I never did get the hang of riding a bicycle down our country hills, but our horses were a different matter.  We often cantered up and down over the hilly road to our friends' houses two steep hills away.
ANOTHER WHITE HORSE DELORES OWNED
NAMED MOONRISE
Snowball was the horse I rode growing up, a snow white mare except for a brown-eared "cap" on the top of her head. I won my first horse show blue ribbon riding Snowball western.

Whatever I asked of her she would do, even pace smooth as a cushioned chair, although she was strictly a Western riding horse.

Snowball had a tendency to get herself into situations. One day I came home from school to find she'd fallen down our steep hillside and lay flat on the ground with her head in the edge of the culvert creek that ran through our acres. I ran down and sat in the creek, cradling her head out of the water a while before she could be coaxed back onto her feet and walked up the path to our barn, cleaned her up and stayed with her until my father could take over when he got home from his day job.

Another time Snowball somehow got through three barbed wire strands of fence and onto the neighbor's land - we figured it was a case of the grass looking greener over there. She fell through a narrow crevasse in their hillside down to the ground level, and was stuck. The local volunteer fire department spent a long time digging to widen the tight confines and tried without success to pull her out, three men manning the rope. When they gave up, Dad (we'd called him home from work) went up and stroked her head, spoke to her. Then he backed away, pulled the rope around his wrists and shoulders, hollered to her and then leaned into the rope and pulled her out of the crevasse by himself while the rescue team and I watched. My father grew up a farm boy, plowing gardens with a hand plow, and was a very strong man

I rode Snowball growing up, and in spite of her tendency to escapades, she lived to be a very old and pampered horse. She and the other horses we had fueled my mind for my books, of which the first, Breaking Point, Book One of my Place in the Heart series, came out May 11, 2012 from Desert Breeze Publishing, www.DesertBreezePublishing.com.

 Besides riding Snowball in parades and horse shows in my teen years I had a job driving a buggy pulled by a matched team of four black ponies in parades for a local eatery. The buggy carried a sign promoting the business. I was amazed to learn later the sum paid for driving in the parades was the amount a woman could rent a monthly apartment for back then; it wouldn't begin to go so far nowadays, but it sure helped our family out at the time.
DELORES WITH STAR, ONE OF THE
PONY RING PONIES,
AND HER FOAL, SHIEK
Also during my teen years we kids, with help also from a neighbor boy, ran the first Pony Ring in the Kansas City, Kansas area on weekends and holidays except in bad weather. Those were busy times. With no local competition our Pony Ring Ranch was a big family attraction. My father set us kids a great example when he made the effort to include every child that wanted to ride a pony. He walked the ring himself many times, holding in place a disabled child who beamed with a bright smile at his or her new accomplishment. Some of those special children returned regularly to ride and their families became friends of ours.

Of an early Sunday morning when my father was home from work, and if the Kansas weather was decent, then we would saddle up and ride, Dad on Snowball and me on Satin, a large donkey we had, and my brother and younger sister on other mounts.  We would sedately climb to the high pasture hill following Dad on a prancing Snowball. 

There's something tall about being atop your mount and your world, something free about charging your steed through the wind; we kids would race back down the hill, and wait. When Dad caught up with us on Snowball he would caution us not to tell our mother those consarned horses got away from us. Those delightful family Sunday rides were the glory days of my girlhood.
~*~*~

Blurb:
Mauranie Wells and her sister Tennyson are at odds. Mauranie is content with their Wells Double Bar ranch home and working on the progress of her fledgling horse business. Tennyson wants the town life social scene and pretty new gowns, not a dusty horse ranch. She spends as much time as possible in nearby Mescal Flats, and when she is home at the ranch, cowboys come to call on her.
Cowboy banker Stemson Arroyo Smith needs help. He rides into the Bar W on a day when the sisters are not speaking. He unknowingly escalates the tension by ignoring Tennyson to pull his horse up beside the corral where Mauranie is exercising a black colt.

~*~*~
EXCERPT

   "Good colt. I'm Stemson Arroyo Smith, by the way."
   Each crisp word shot a thrill of pleasure through her. Her eyes widened, and she smiled. He didn't drawl the way Tennyson's cowboy friends did. Cultured, she thought, and with a deep voice she could hear well.
   "He needs work, a lot of work."
    "A little at a time will do it. He's young yet."
   "The house is over there." She nodded in Tennyson’s direction, drinking in the wonderful experience of not having to tilt her head in order to hear him.
   Stemson made no move to leave.
   Mauranie ground her teeth and clenched her fists, staring at him. She glanced past him to where Tennyson stood pressed against the veranda rail, her body rigid again, a grimace on her face.
   "My sister sometimes keeps her suitors cooling their heels. I warn you, yours will be a long wait if you remain here. Tennyson’s hand-made boots have never seen the inside of a corral." Mauranie turned her back to   Stemson and clicked the colt into motion.
   "My business is with Mauranie Wells." His deep voice caused her to pause and turn back to better catch his words. "I daresay it’s you? Scott Ringer at the feed store in Mescal Flats told me your sister is a blonde. So you see, I am, after all, where I should be."
 
   Warmth started in the core of her being and spread to engulf her. At the same time, uncertainty struck her. Had she heard him right? This nice man had come to see her? She well knew how her poor hearing sometimes tripped her up. She tensed. She had to check if she'd heard him right. She drew Showman to a stop and led him to the pole fence where the stranger stood.
   "Me? What can I do to help you?" She scanned the crinkled corners of his silvered eyes, letting her gaze drop down smooth cheeks darkening with new afternoon shadow. Her tight muscles relaxed. She lifted her gaze and stared into the smile of those silvery-blue eyes.

**************
Place in the Heart: Book One, Breaking Point, was released May 11, 2012
Place in the Heart: Book Two, Substitute Lover, will release in December, 2012
BUY LINKS:
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-290/From-The-Heart-Book/Detail.bok


Thank you, Delores, for being such an excellent guest! I know readers will want to read this book--I know I do.
Celia Yeary
You can find Delores here:

Show Mo

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

How Real Do You Like Your Historicals?

By Kathy Otten


Main St. Goldfield, NE 1903

Much like writing dialogue,  grounding the reader in another time and place requires balance. I write historical westerns and while I don’t want to create a perfect ‘Gunsmoke’ kind of town for my stories, the actual reality of an old west town can sometimes be a bit too real for the fantasy I hold in my mind.

My own home town is a farm town and more than half Amish. While many people would think it quaint, when farmers start spreading manure on the fields, it stinks. Then with all the buggies in and out of town, it doesn’t take long for piles of horse manure to accumulate in front of the various hitching rails. In the summer, tiny black flies swarm over them.
Cimarron St. 1931

Imagine an old west town, where everyone rode horses and wagons were pulled by oxen. The streets must have been veritable cesspools of smelly muck. Aside from all the flies, mosquitoes were also attracted to the animals, and out west they often carried malaria, a disease of fever and chills commonly called the ague.

Goblin Gulch
After a rain the streets became a mass of yellow-brown ooze that could almost suck the boots off a man’s feet, and rats lived under the planks of the wooden sidewalks.
Slops and ashes were thrown into barrels outside and garbage piled up in alleys and behind buildings. When broken wagons, wheels and other implements cluttered the yards of farms and ranches, they were burned or carted off to a ‘dump,’ somewhere on the owner’s land.

The farm fresh milk sold in town, carried bacteria and tuberculosis.  Without proper refrigeration, butter turned rancid. Except for seasonal greens like dandelions and pig weed, fruits and vegetables were rare in the westerner’s diet and children suffered from vitamin deficiency, scurvy and scrofulous sores.  Bacon sizzling in a pan over an open fire most likely carried trichinosis as six percent of the pigs at that time had the disease.

Plagues of grasshoppers and Rocky Mountain locusts moved over the plains in black, humming clouds that were at times 150 miles wide, by 100 miles deep. They stopped trains, ate the bark off trees and could obliterate an entire harvest in a day. Electrical storms caused lightning balls to jump from the horns of cattle and tornadoes could destroy acres of crops.

Replica of miner's house Silver City
During winter, the windows were kept closed to keep from freezing, and instead people choked on the fumes from p oorly insulated and vented stoves. Long periods of time shut indoors, without contact from any neighbors intensified the loneliness so much that some people went insane.

I do wonder how anyone managed to survive. And as a reader, would you rather visit that time in history with rose-colored glasses or would rather we authors present our stories with the unvarnished reality of the time?

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Paradise Pines Series: Night Angel

By Paisley Kirkpatrick
August 21, 2012, is a date I will hold in my memory as the day my life-long dream came true. It's the day my first book is published. After 22 years of never giving up on being published, Night Angel, the first of five stories in the Paradise Pines Series, will be released by Desert Breeze Publishing.
In this story set in the 1849 Gold Rush Era, a poker-playing saloon singer tangles with the mysterious Night Angel. She steals his heart the night he robs her the first time.
Sassy Amalie Renard, a poker-playing saloon singer, shakes up Paradise Pines, a former gold-rush mountain community by turning the saloon’s bar into her stage. Her amazing voice stirs the passions of the hotel owner, a man who anonymously travels tunnels at night providing help to the downtrodden as the mysterious Night Angel. Declan Grainger agrees to subsidize the building of a music hall to fulfill Amalie's dream, but a bounty for her arrest could spoil his plans. Distrust and jealousy stir flames of malice and revenge threatening to destroy their town. Drawing from past experiences, Declan and Amalie turn to each other to find a way to save the community.
EXCERPT:
Different colored bottles of whiskey and beer reflected in the mirrors along the wall behind the long wooden bar. Perfect. That's where she'd start her evening.
She slipped off her cape and handed it to Declan. His appreciative gasp brought a smile to her lips. Having men ogle her appearance was hardly new. She'd learned early to use her looks to her advantage. The way Declan's eyes heated with appreciation when he cast a glance at the deep cut of her décolletage reminded her how good it felt to be a woman.
"Now you'll see who I really am."
Declan grabbed her arm. "Don't let them forget you're a lady, Amalie."
She cast him a wicked smile. "The name's Lily Fox. Believe me, honey, Lily's no lady."
She approached a couple of gamblers and leaned over slightly to give them full effect of her daring dress. "Would you mind helping me, gents? I have need of your table for a moment."
The men jumped to their feet in unison, their cards forgotten. Amalie took the nearest man's outstretched palm, stepped onto a chair, over their cards, and up onto the long wooden plank bar.
"Good evening, boys." She strutted along the length of wood, avoiding whiskey glasses and kicking away eager hands. The saloon girl stopped caterwauling. The room went still. She had everyone's attention, just the way Lily liked it.
"Get down, young woman. This ain't no place for you to prance about," the barkeep snarled in outrage.
Ignoring the scowling face with the handlebar mustache, she kicked up her heels. Adding a dance step, she pranced back and forth the length of the makeshift stage. Lily reveled in the whistles and disregarded the uncouth remarks. She was in her element. "My name is Lily Fox, and I'm here to entertain you tonight."
With the flick of her hand, she caught the attention of the stunned piano player. "Play something quick and lively, will you, honey?" She glanced around the room of excited faces and turned on her brightest smile.
My husband and I are so lucky to live in this area where all the excitement happened during the gold rush. The town of Placerville, known as Old Hangtown in 1849, still has some of the same atmosphere of those days. Victorian houses, tunnels under the town, a gold mine, a bar displaying a 'man' hanging by the neck above its front door, amongst some of the old relics. Living in the area I love to write about gives me a chance to experience some of the wild west atmosphere.

Monday, May 28, 2012

THE SADDEST TWENTY MILES

I know it's not western-y. But it's Memorial Day. Please take a minute to remember with me.

People say all small towns look the same. The old brick buildings guarding the streets

silently speak of the past, when they were new and full of life. The traffic light on Main Street measures the slow pace of life in increments of green, yellow and red. Most times, the Christmas decorations go up on the streetlights after Halloween and don’t come down until the first warm day of spring.

The flag at the courthouse is no odd sight; flags in small towns are common and patriotism runs high along with societal values. The speed limit is no more than 35, and everyone knows that. There’s no reason to rush, anyway.

My first clue that something was different about Madill that August day was the sign. On the very far northern edge of the “city” limits someone had placed a huge banner by the side of the two-lane highway. It stood unfurled between two wooden poles.

“A TRUE AMERICAN HERO,” the lettering read, and below that, “2ND LT. JOE CUNNINGHAM.” Red and blue magic marker starbursts filled the white void of the background around the letters, leaving no doubt that the banner had taken hours of loving, painstaking precision to create.

And the rockets’ red glare,
The bombs bursting in air…

The banner stood as the beginning of what was to be a somber twenty miles of driving for me that day. Only a few feet from where the banner had been placed, small roadside flags were planted in the parched Oklahoma soil. There had been no rain for weeks, and with our record-breaking number of triple-digit days, I could only imagine how hard it must have been to push those small, fragile twelve-inch sticks into the rock-hard ground at such measured intervals.


If you’ve ever lived in a small town, you know Saturday mornings are the liveliest, busiest times of the week. Not so on this Saturday morning. As I topped the hill and the main part of town came into view, my heart skipped a beat. I had never seen such a profusion of color. Red, white and blue—everywhere. Flags flew from every porch, every small business, every conceivable place visible…and that could only mean one very tragic thing.

Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there…


I slowed down to twenty-five as tears blurred my eyes. A car pulled out in front of me a little further down the road, and I looked to my right. The side road had been blocked off. There were at least two hundred motorcycles parked beside the First Baptist Church. The Patriot Guard Riders had come to pay their respects—and to be certain that everyone else did, too, should a certain crazy group of fanatics from Kansas decide to make an appearance.

Across from the motorcycles, a huge, beautiful American flag was unfurled, the field of blue lending its stars to heaven, the stripes perpendicular to the ground. In front of that flag stood perhaps fifty lawmen of every type, a mix from both sides of the Red River, Texans and Oklahomans.

The parking lots for the businesses in the immediate area were full to overflowing, even though none of those businesses were open. Signs filled the windows under where the flags flew:

“CLOSED. BACK AT 1:00 P.M. REST IN PEACE, JOE.”

I stopped at the light on Main Street. The courthouse flag was, of course, flying at half-mast. There were no other cars on the road. The one that had pulled out in front of me earlier had turned off a block back, at the first available parking place, a long, half-mile hike away from the church. I was driving through a ghost town.

The signboard at the Grab & Go read, “OBAMA MAY BE PRESIDENT, BUT GOD IS STILL IN CHARGE.” Any other time, I might have smiled, but not with that small picket of flags that still sporadically lined the road, reminding me of the terrible loss this town was reeling from.

Another hand-lettered sign by the road: “WE’LL MISS YOU, JOE. GO WITH GOD.”

And yet, another: “REST IN PEACE, JOE. WE WILL NEVER FORGET.”

I drove out of Madill, headed for Kingston, another small town, a few short miles away.

Small towns, close together, are usually rivals on the high school football field and in most other things, but when all is said and done, we remember that we are, all of us, citizens of the same wonderful country, and that’s what matters—more than who wins the game on Friday night, more than which town has the best point guard on the basketball court, and more than which quarterback has better chances with the big college scouts. As Americans, we all have equal ‘bragging rights’—we are Americans, and no other country pulls together as we do when the going gets tough.

I couldn’t think of anything, anywhere, any time being tougher than losing even one of our young men to war. A bright smile that would never be seen again, coming through his parents’ door; two arms that could never open to hug his best girl again; the echoing sound of emptiness forever where once his steps fell—an aching, empty hole in the lives of every person he ever knew that could never, never be filled.

My thoughts rolled over one another as I drove. I wondered about him, about his family—about what he’d left behind, and how the people he’d known would ever manage to survive without him in their lives forevermore.

I was on the fringes of Kingston when the roadside flags started up in earnest again—though they’d never completely stopped. But now, it looked as if someone had planted a beautiful garden of red, white, and blue flowers in the cracked, dry Oklahoma soil.
As Kingston came into view ahead, flags fluttered in the wind at every business. Some buildings had bunting on their storefronts.

It doesn’t take long to cover the few miles from one end of Kingston to the other. But with every inch of ground I traveled, there was no doubt that 2nd Lieutenant Joe Cunningham was remembered, respected, and revered.

As I drove out of town, yellow ribbons tied around several branches of a tree in someone’s yard caught my eye.

“HE IS HOME. REST IN PEACE.”

No small town rivalry, now. As Americans all, we share only a unified, joint loss of a shining star; the precious, irreplaceable light of someone’s life.

He was 27. He loved to hunt and fish. He had dreams of becoming a highway patrol officer and finishing his degree. He always wore a smile.

I will never drive that sad stretch of road again without remembering a man I never met. A hometown hero is gone forever, but he will never, never be forgotten.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

AMERICAN HERO AND WESTERN STAR, AUDIE MURPHY

By Caroline Clemmons


Audie Leon Murphy

Who better to honor this Memorial Weekend than Audie Murphy? Through LIFE magazine's July 16, 1945 issue ("Most Decorated Soldier"/cover photo), Audie Leon Murphy became one the most famous soldiers of World War II and widely regarded as the most decorated American soldier of the war. After the war he became a celebrated movie star for over two decades, appearing in 44 films. He later had success as a country music composer. And how appropriate that we honor him this weekend. In addition to be America’s Most Decorated Soldier, Audie Murphy died in a plane crash on Memorial Day Weekend, May 28, 1971.

Audie Murphy, one of the few
childhood photos available
Audie Leon Murphy was born to sharecroppers near the community of Kingston in Hunt County, Texas. His parents were of Irish descent, Emmett Berry Murphy (February 20, 1886–September 20, 1976), and his wife, Josie Bell (née Killian (1891–1941). He grew up on farms in Hunt County and has several memorials there. He was the sixth of twelve children, two of whom died before reaching adulthood.

In 1933, Emmett and Josie Murphy with their 5 children June, Audie, Richard, Gene, and Nadine moved to Celeste, Texas with the primary purpose of enrolling the children in school. They lived in an abandoned railroad boxcar on the southern end of the small community for several months before renting a rundown home in Celeste until 1937. The railroad car no longer exists.

While the family lived in Celeste, the two remaining Murphy children, Beatrice and Joseph, were born. It was here that Audie befriended the Cawthon family who played a prominent role in his life. In 1937, the Murphy family moved back into the abandoned railroad car for several weeks and then moved to a farm near Floyd, Texas located just west of Greenville. Audie finally moved out on his own in 1939 at the age of 15 after finding a job with Haney Lee, who had a farm nearby.

Audie with his Killian
grandparents in Farmersville TX
Audie spent a lot of time with his grandparents, Jefferson D. and Sarah Elizabeth Killian, at their home in Farmersville, Texas. In fact, the Killian was a place of refuge for the Murphy children when times were difficult during the years of the depression. At the height of the depression, around 1929 or 1930, Audie's oldest sister, Corrine, left the Murphy family and moved in with the grandparents to help relieve some of the financial stress burdening the Murphy family.

As the family moved from community to community over the years, they never strayed too far from the Killian home. Around 1933-36 (depending on the account), Emmett Murphy, who was known to disappear for weeks at a time while apparently seeking employment, finally vanished permanently. He had attempted to convince his wife and family to move with him to West Texas where he hoped to find work in the oil fields. Unconvinced that this was a wise move, Mrs. Murphy did not want to leave the area where her parents and lifelong friends lived.

Audie dropped out of Celeste school in the fifth grade to help support the family. He worked for one dollar per day, plowing and picking cotton on any farm that would hire him. Murphy became very skilled with a rifle, hunting small game like squirrels, rabbits, and birds to help feed the family.

Audie with a rabbit for dinner
One of his favorite hunting companions was neighbor Dial Henley. When Henley commented that Murphy never missed what he shot at, Murphy replied, "Well, Dial, if I don't hit what I shoot at, my family won't eat today." 

On May 23, 1941, his mother died. At the time of their mother's death, Audie was approximately 17 years old and was declared by the county to be old enough to take care of himself. The placement of his siblings in the Boles Childrens Home in nearby Quinlan was an event that Audie vowed to correct. On more than one occasion during the war, he told his buddies that he hoped to someday earn enough money to reunite what remained of his family.

As it turned out, Audie was able to keep his promise. He worked at a combination general store, garage and gas station in Greenville. Boarded out, he worked in a radio repair shop. Later that year, with the approval of his older, married sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Corinne Burns (usually referred to as "Corrine"), who was unable to help, Murphy placed his three youngest siblings in an orphanage to ensure their care. He reclaimed them after World War II.

He had long dreamed of joining the military. After the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Murphy tried to enlist in the military, but the services rejected him because he was underage. In June 1942, shortly after what he and his sister Corrine believed was his 17th birthday, Corrine adjusted his birth date so he appeared to be 18 and legally able to enlist. His war memoirs, TO HELL AND BACK, maintained this misinformation, leading to later confusion and contradictory statements about his year of birth.

Audie's mother holding
his brother Eugene
Murphy was small, only 5 ft 5 inch and 110 pounds, but he tried once again to enlist and was declined by both the Marines and Army paratroopers as too short and underweight. The Navy also turned him down for being underweight. The United States Army finally accepted him and he was inducted at (some reports say Dallas) Greenville, Texas and sent to Camp Wolters near Mineral Wells, Texas for basic training. During a session of close order drill, he passed out. His company commander tried to have him transferred to a cook and bakers' school but Murphy insisted on becoming a combat soldier, and after 13 weeks of basic training, he was sent to Fort Meade, Maryland for advanced infantry training.

Murphy was awarded 33 U.S. decorations and medals, five medals from France, and one from Belgium. He received every U.S. decoration for valor available to Army ground personnel at the time. He earned the Silver Star twice in three days, two Bronze Star Medals, three Purple Hearts, the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Medal of Honor.

After seeing the young hero's photo on the cover of the July 16 edition of Life Magazine and sensing star potential, actor James Cagney invited Murphy to Hollywood in September 1945. Despite Cagney's expectations, the next few years in California were difficult for Murphy. He became disillusioned by the lack of work, was frequently broke, and slept on the floor of a gymnasium owned by his friend Terry Hunt. He eventually received token acting parts in the 1948 films “Beyond Glory” and “Texas, Brooklyn and Heaven.” His third movie, “Bad Boy,” gave him his first leading role.

On set of "Red Badge
of Courage" 1951
He also starred in the 1951 adaptation of Stephen Crane's Civil War novel, “The Red Badge of Courage,” which earned critical success. Murphy expressed great discomfort in playing himself in “To Hell and Back.” In 1959, he starred in the western “No Name on the Bullet,” in which his performance was well-received despite being cast as the villain, a professional killer who managed to stay within the law.

After returning home from World War II, Murphy bought a house in Farmersville, Texas for his oldest sister Corrine, her husband Poland Burns, and their three children. His three youngest siblings, Nadine, Billie, and Joe, had been living in an orphanage since Murphy's mother's death, He intended that they would be able to live with Corrine and Poland. However, six children under one roof proved difficult for Corrine and Poland to parent, and Murphy took his siblings to live with him.

Despite a lot of post-war publicity, his acting career had not progressed and he had difficulty making a living. Buck, Murphy's oldest brother, and his wife agreed to take Nadine in, but Murphy could not find a home for Joe. He approached James "Skipper" Cherry, a Dallas theater owner who was involved with the Variety Clubs International Boy's Ranch, a 4,800 acres ranch near Copperas Cove, Texas. He arranged for Joe to live at the Boy's Ranch. Reportedly, Joe was very happy there and Murphy was able to frequently visit his brother as well as his friend Cherry. In a 1973 interview, Cherry recalled, "He was discouraged and somewhat despondent concerning his movie career."

Playing cowboys with sons on the set
Variety Clubs International was financing “Bad Boy,” a film to help promote the organization's work with troubled children. Cherry called Texas theater executive Paul Short, who was producing the film, to suggest that they consider giving Murphy a significant role in the movie. Murphy performed well in the screen test, but the president of Allied Artists did not want to cast someone in a major role with so little acting experience. Cherry, Short, and other Texas theater owners decided that they wanted Murphy to play the lead or would not finance the film. The producers agreed and Murphy's performance was well-received by Hollywood. As a result of the film, Universal Studios signed Murphy to a seven-year studio contract. After a few box-office hits at Universal, the studio bosses gave Murphy increased scope in choosing his roles.

On set of "To Hell And Back" he
shows son Terry a German helmet
Murphy's 1949 autobiography TO HELL AND BACK became a national bestseller. The book was ghostwritten by his friend, David "Spec" McClure, already a professional writer. Murphy modestly described some of his most heroic actions—without portraying himself as a hero. He did not mention any of the many decorations he received, but praised the skills, bravery, and dedication of the other members of his platoon. Murphy even attributed a song he had written to "Kerrigan".

Murphy portrayed himself in the 1955 film version of his book with the same title, “To Hell and Back.” Murphy was initially reluctant to star in the movie, fearing it would appear he was cashing in on his war experience. He suggested Tony Curtis for the role. Unlike in most Hollywood films, where the same soldiers serve throughout the movie, Murphy's comrades are killed or wounded as they were in real life. At the film's end, Murphy is the only member of his original unit remaining. At the ceremony where Murphy is awarded the Medal of Honor, the ghostly images of his dead friends are depicted. This insistence on reality has been attributed to Murphy and his desire to honor his fallen friends. Audie Murphy's oldest son, Terry, portrayed Audie's younger brother Joseph Preston "Joe" Murphy (at age four).

The film grossed almost $10 million during its initial theatrical release, and at the time became Universal Studios's biggest hit of the studio's 43-year history. The movie thought to have held the record as the company's highest-grossing motion picture until 1975, when it was surpassed by Steven Spielberg's “Jaws.”

Audie Murphy on the set of one of his westerns
In the 25 years he spent in Hollywood, Murphy made 44 feature films, 33 of them Westerns. He played outlaws Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and Bill Doolin. His films earned him close to $3 million in his 23 years as an actor. He also appeared in several television shows, including the lead in the short-lived 1961 NBC western detective series “Whispering Smith,” set in Denver, Colorado. For his contribution to the motion picture industry, Murphy has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1601 Vine Street.

In addition to acting, Murphy also became successful as a country music songwriter. He teamed up with musicians and composers including Guy Mitchell, Jimmy Bryant, Scott Turner, Coy Ziegler, Ray and Terri Eddlemon. Murphy's songs were recorded and released by well-known artists including Dean Martin, Eddy Arnold, Charley Pride, Jimmy Bryant, Porter Waggoner, Jerry Wallace, Roy Clark, and Harry Nilsson. His two biggest hits were "Shutters and Boards" and "When the Wind Blows in Chicago".
Family Photo

Murphy was reportedly plagued by insomnia, bouts of depression, and nightmares related to his numerous battles throughout his life. His first wife, Wanda Hendrix, often talked of his struggle with this condition, even claiming that he had held her at gunpoint once. For a time during the mid-1960s, he became dependent on doctor-prescribed sleeping pills called Placidyl. When he recognized that he had become addicted to the drug, he locked himself in a motel room where he took himself off the pills, going through withdrawal for a week.

Always an advocate of the needs of America's military veterans, Murphy eventually broke the taboo about publicly discussing war-related mental conditions. In an effort to draw attention to the problems of returning Korean and Vietnam War veterans, Murphy spoke out candidly about his own problems with PTSD, known then and during World War II as "battle fatigue". He called on the United States government to give increased consideration and study to the emotional impact that combat experiences have on veterans, and to extend health care benefits to address PTSD and other mental-health problems suffered by returning war veterans.

Murphy married actress Wanda Hendrix in 1949; they were divorced in 1951. He then married former airline stewardess Pamela Archer, by whom he had two children: Terrance Michael "Terry" Murphy (born 1952) and James Shannon "Skipper" Murphy (born 1954). They were named for two of his most respected friends, Terry Hunt and James "Skipper" Cherry, respectively. Murphy became a successful actor, rancher, and businessman, breeding and raising Quarter Horses. He owned ranches in Texas, Tucson, Arizona and Menifee, California.

Monument in his honor
Celeste, Texas
On May 28, 1971, Murphy was killed when the private plane in which he was a passenger crashed into Brush Mountain, near Catawba, Virginia, 20 miles west of Roanoke, Virginia in conditions of rain, clouds/fog and zero visibility. The pilot and four other passengers were also killed. In 1974, a large granite marker was erected near the crash site. On June 7, 1971, Murphy was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. A special flagstone walkway was later constructed to accommodate the large number of people who visit to pay their respects. It is the second most-visited grave site, after that of President John F. Kennedy.

The headstones of Medal of Honor recipients buried at Arlington National Cemetery are normally decorated in gold leaf. Murphy previously requested that his stone remain plain and inconspicuous, like that of an ordinary soldier. An unknown person maintains a small American flag next to his engraved Government-issue headstone, which reads as follows:

Audie L. Murphy, Texas. Major, Infantry, World War II. June 20, 1924 to May 28, 1971. Medal of Honor, DSC, SS & OLC, LM, BSM & OLC, PH & 2 OLC.

Statue in his honor stands in front of
The Audie Murphy/American Cotton Museum
Greenville, Hunt County, Texas
Murphy’s diverse honors are far too numerous to list here so I’ll mention only those in the county of his birth. From the mid-1990s through the present, an annual celebration of Murphy and other veterans in all branches of service has been held on the weekend closest to Murphy's birthday at the American Cotton Museum, renamed The Audie Murphy/American Cotton Museum (in Greenville, Texas), which houses a large collection of Murphy memorabilia and personal items. His statue stands in front of the museum. A monument in his honor stands in Celeste, the small town where he attended school for five years. Farmersville also claims Audie Murphy, since that is where his sister Corinne lived and the address on his draft information. Highway 69 from Greenville to Fannin County is the Audie Murphy Memorial Highway, and Highway 34 crosses the railroad tracks in Greenville on the Audie Murphy Memorial Overpass. Mark your calendar for the 13th annual Audie Murphy Day celebration in Farmersville, Texas with a Military flyover at 10 am followed by parade downtown and program under the Onion Shed.

As we remember those who have gone before us this weekend, let’s remember soldiers like Audie Leon Murphy and his comrades.



Thanks to Wikipedia, www.audiemurphy.com, and the Chambers of Commerce of Greenville, Celeste, and Farmersville, Texas.