A Bit of Father's Day Sentiment~Tanya Hanson

 Father’s Day has been around since 1910, when Sonora Smart Dodd arranged a celebration at a YMCA in Spokane, Washington. Her dad, a Civil War veteran, had been the single father of six. Hearing a Mother’s Day sermon in 1909, Sonora decided men should get the same honor. President Calvin Coolidge recommended the holiday in 1924 but stopped short of issuing a national proclamation.

But the celebration didn’t catch on readily, criticized by many as merely an excuse to replicate the commercial success of Mother’s Day. In 1957, Maine Senator Margaret Chase Smith accused Congress of ignoring half of our parents. President Lyndon Johnson passed the first presidential proclamation honoring fathers on the third Sunday in June (Sonora had initially wanted her father’s birthday, June 5) and finally, President Richard Nixon sighed the holiday into law in 1972.

As for me, sadly, I lost my dad in a car accident some 30 years ago, just a few months after my son was born. I like to think the angels part heavenly clouds once in a while so he can peek down and see how blessed I am.  Silly, but it gives me comfort. And among my greatest blessings is a hubby who’s a terrific dad and grampa. Therefore...

This poem is just too adorable not to share. Last year hubby printed it out and framed it for our son and son-in-law who have each given us a grandson

Enjoy Father’s Day! Oh, the photo isn’t anybody I know...(Dreamstime) but it so fits!    

                   

     A LITTLE FELLOW FOLLOWS ME

    A careful man I want to be,

    A little fellow follows me;

    I dare not to go astray                                            

    For fear he’ll go the self-same way, 

    I cannot once escape his eyes,

    Whatever he sees me do, he tries;

    Like me he says he’s going to be,

    The little chap who follows me.

    He thinks that I am good and fine,

    Believes in every word of mine;

    The base in me he must not see,

    The little chap who follows me.

    I must remember as I go

    Through summer’s sun and winter’s snow;

    I am building for the years to be

    That little chap who follows me.

www.tanyahanson.com

Pioneer Doctor of the West - Susan Anderson

by Anna Kathryn Lanier

Win a copy of my ebook SALVATION BRIDE. The heroine, Laura, is a medical doctor in 1873 Texas.  Just leave a comment to be eligible. I'll draw for a winner on or about June 20th.

Dr. Susan Anderson

1870-1960

The women of the west fascinate me.  The hardships they endured following either their men or their own hearts west are amazing.  They went and helped shape the west and the country as much, if not more, than the men.

Dr. Susan Anderson

One such woman was Dr. Susan Anderson, who practiced medicine in the mining towns of Colorado when women doctors were far and few between.

Susan Anderson, born in 1870, and her brother were both well-educated by their parents.  After her parents’ divorce, she moved with her father and brother to Kansas.  There she excelled in Morse code, but when she told her father she wanted to be a telegrapher, William told her to set her sights higher and become a physician.

After graduating high school in 1892, Susan followed her father and step-mother to Colorado.  In 1893 she enrolled into the University of Michigan’s medical school.  With the handful of other women in the school Susan attended the co-ed lectures, but the anatomy class was separated by the sexes.  The school did not think men and women should take this class together.

As Susan attended medical school, she also interned at the local hospital.  The hours were grueling and it was at the hospital that she contracted tuberculosis, a disease that plagued her the rest of her life.  After graduating in 1897, she turned down a position at the hospital and instead returned to Colorado to practice and to improve her health in the clean air.

Dr. Anderson with her father and brother

There were 55 other doctors in the area she settled, so she drew mostly female patients.  However, her proficiency in cleaning wounds and staving off infections—thus prevent amputations—grew her reputation as a good doctor.  The thriving practice and clean fresh air did improve her health, as did her engagement to marry a man she loved.

Tragedy struck twice, however, in a short amount of time.  First, her fiancée left her at the altar, breaking her heart.  Before she could pick up the pieces of her broken engagement, her beloved brother and best friend John died of influenza.  Dr. Anderson went into a deep depression and to help lift her spirits, she traveled Colorado.  Finally settling in Denver, she once again set up a practice, but with a glutton of physicians already in the area, the budding business floundered.  She then moved to Greeley and took a job as a nurse in the local hospital.

When a typhoid epidemic struck the area, she decided to leave for the good of her health and moved to Fraser, Co.  There, she decided to practice medicine again and opened shop. After proving herself a good doctor, her practice thrived.  “She mended bullet wounds, set broken limbs, and even removed abscessed teeth.”  She was so admired by the local loggers she treated that they built her a house.

Dr. Anderson became well-known throughout Colorado and the country.  Colorado General Hospital recognized her as an exceptional healer and Grand County, Co. appointed her as coroner.

As coroner, she held the commission of overseeing the blasting of a tunnel through the mountain accountable for any on-the-job deaths or injuries due to safety negligence.  When accidents did happen in the tunnel, she’d travel the six miles into the Moffat Tunnel to give first aid and retrieve dead bodies.

Dr. Anderson practiced for more than 50 years.  At age 88, she was hospitalized and lived the remainder of her life in Colorado General Hospital. After her death in 1960, she was buried near her brother in Cripple Creek, Colorado.

Reference:

THE DOCTOR WORE PETTICOATS by Chris Enss

Further reading:

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-drsusy.html

http://www.ellensplace.net/hcg_fac3.html

This article first appeared on Hearts Through History's blog Seduced by History on July 19. 2011

Anna Kathryn Lanier
Romance Author, A GIFT BEYOND ALL MEASURE

http://aklanier.com/

Never let your memories be greater than your dreams. ~Doug Ivester 

THE FIRST DUDE RANCH IN THE U.S.

By Guest, Kate Wyland

When my husband and I won a dude ranch vacation from the Brenda Novak Diabetes Auction we had no idea we would be staying at the oldest dude ranch in the US. And I never expected our trip would be the inspiration for my novel WYOMING ESCAPE.

The Eaton Brothers

Eaton Ranch in Wolf, Wyoming, is considered the original Western dude ranch. In 1879, the Eaton Brothers, Howard, Alden and Willis, moved from Pittsburgh to a cattle ranch near Medora, North Dakota. Soon many of their friends discovered the peace and beauty of their new home, came to visit, and ended up staying for long periods. One visitor finally suggested the brothers charge room and board so the guests could linger without guilt. The Eatons hoped that would discourage visitors, but just the opposite happened. They inadvertently created a new, profitable side business.

In 1904, looking for more scenic riding for their guests, the brothers moved their enterprise to northeastern Wyoming at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains. A few miles outside Sheridan, the 7000 acre ranch boasted wonderful rolling hills to ride and hike, wooded streams to fish in, and challenging trails into the mountains. While their main focus remained cattle, the success of their dude operation attracted the attention of other ranchers. Soon dude ranches began springing up all over the West.

“Roughing It With Comfort” was the theme from the earliest days as is demonstrated by this 1915 booklet advertising the ranch.

“ROUGHING IT WITH COMFORT” has been well applied to the conditions to be found at Eatons' Ranch in Wyoming; …let no one mistake the meaning of this message or read into it any thought of ultrafashionable hotel life set amidst the western hills and plains.

Eatons' Ranch is a real western ranch, open to visitors for a short period each year…

The Wyoming Ranch

In addition to riding, hiking and fishing, the ranch offered a variety of other activities, including tennis and baseball, as well as typical ranch work. It also was especially cognizant of the ladies and provided for their comfort. Their primary focus was (and still is) family activities. The kids had a great time and many stayed by themselves, supervised by the Eatons.

Howard Eaton also led multi-week horseback camping trips through Yellowstone and Glacier Parks and to the Custer Battlefield and Crow Indian Reservation. These expeditions for “lovers of vigorous outdoor life” featured camping in teepee shaped tents and covered twelve to twenty miles per day.

The charges in 1915 are fun to see. Visitors could stay a week with full riding privileges for only $30. If they wanted a tent, it was $25. The trips to Yellowstone and Glacier Point cost $125-$150.

Kate, a friend, and Kate's husband at Eaton Ranch

One hundred thirty-four years later, the Eaton family still welcomes guests to its ranch and, as in the early days, most people return year after year for a truly unique experience. Our week-long stay there was so delightful that I wanted keep its memory alive, so I used it as the inspiration for WYOMING ESCAPE. None of the characters or events is based on reality, but some of the scenery and attitudes are. If you’d like more information about the modern day Eaton Ranch go to:  http://eatonsranch.com/

If you’d like to see my take on a dude ranch, here’s an excerpt from WYOMING ESCAPE.

One dead body is frightening enough, but a second one, plus a dirty cop, sends Mikela Richards fleeing for her life. She finds a safe hiding place on a Wyoming Dude ranch, where she tries to discover if the murders are connected to the mysterious computer memory stick she found in her car. But her fragile feeling of safety is disturbed by a compelling Marine, home on leave.

Back from Afghanistan to heal both physically and emotionally, Shawn Saunders recognizes the type of fear in Mikela's eyes---it's one of the things he's come home to forget. In spite of their reservations, neither can resist the pull of their attraction.

Buy links: Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple, Smashwords

Mikela's eyes widened as they continued down the two-lane road heading toward a range of tall, tree-covered mountains. Where the heck were they going? She'd assumed the ranch was close to town. She hadn't counted on being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

She had a hard time concentrating on what the older woman was telling her, particularly after Harry turned onto a wide dirt road that paralleled the mountains. No structures of any kind intruded here, only fences with acres of green, open land on either side. Occasional rock formations and groups of trees were the tallest things in the area. It had been one thing to enjoy the scenery from the safety of the bus. It was quite another to contemplate living in all that nothingness.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. No wonder the previous cook had gotten drunk. How could anyone live in such an isolated place? And how safe would she be?

Harry finally slowed and pulled through a large gateway made of logs. A wrought iron sign on top proclaimed Triple H Ranch.

“Almost home now. Only two miles to the guest complex. What do you think?”

The dirt driveway paralleled a wooded stream on the right, while open, hilly pastures stretched on the other side. Again rocky areas were sprinkled throughout the grassy fields. Mikela managed to get her tongue working.

“It's beautiful, but so far away from everything.”

“True we’re a ways out, but we’ve got family living on the ranch. My son, Jeff, and his crew live in the big house, fairly close to the dude quarters. I’ve a cabin near him and my sister-in-law has a place down the side road. So we’re not that isolated.”

Not isolated? Mikela almost snorted. She'd been around most of the world—Europe, Asia, Africa. The only place she'd ever seen as lonely as this part of Wyoming was Australia. Not that she'd traveled in the Outback—her mother had no interest in anything outside a city and her dad had been occupied with business meetings. But she had seen it as they flew over.

Apparently unaware of her new cook’s reaction, Harry waved towards the fields. “We're mainly a working cattle ranch, which Jeff runs. The dude stuff is secondary. We keep things simple—few organized activities, no schedules beyond meal times and when the horses are available. You can hike, fish and swim here or golf nearby. Mostly, our guests ride in the hills and kick back.”

Kate Wyland, Author

Kate Wyland is a life-long horse nut who started riding at three years old. While she rode Western as a child, she later became enthralled with Dressage and Quadrille, a drill team type of dressage competition. She also loves trail riding and has taken week-long rides in Ireland, Monument Valley and Wyoming, as well as horse camped in the mountains of California. Kate has three semi-retired horses and can’t imagine life without them. A few years ago, she exchanged her tech writing hat for a fiction writing Stetson. Suspense, romance, horses and sometimes the paranormal are the themes she likes to explore in her books. And she delights in sharing her love of animals and country living.

Website:  http://katewyland.com/
Blog:  http://katewyland.com/blog/

Eaton Ranch photos:  Library of Congress, Eatons’ ranch, Wolf, Wyoming .(1915)

Celia Ann Blalock--Wyatt Earp's First Common Law Wife

By Celia Ann Yeary

Many articles have been written and several movies have been made about Wyatt Earp. Some know that Josephine Earp was his common law wife, and in their later years she strived to protect his reputation that he'd had with an earlier common law wife.

The "other common law wife," the first one, caught my attention when I learned she and I shared a name--Celia Ann. Also she and I were called "Celie," which is the old pronunciation of our name.
In addition, she had a sister named Sarah...and so do I.

How could I not be interested in her?



YOUNG CELIA ANN BLAYLOCK
"MATTIE"

However, we part company when talking about our professions. I was a high school teacher, and the other Celia Ann, more often called "Mattie," was a prostitute.

Celia Ann "Mattie" Blaylock was born in 1850 and lived only 38 years. She was born in Wisconsin and raised in Iowa, but she ran away from home at age 16 to escape stern parents and farm life.

She moved on to Kansas, where she became a prostitute in Dodge City. There, in l873, she met Wyatt Earp and soon became his romantic companion. During their early years together, Mattie continued to work as a prostitute.

By the time they moved to Tombstone, she had taken the name "Earp" to be recognized as his common law wife.

She suffered from severe headaches, perhaps what we know as migraines, and she used laudanum as a pain killer. Mattie soon became addicted to the opiate.

The worse her headaches and addiction became, the more Wyatt strayed. He began an affair with Josephine Marcus.

 

WYATT EARP

AS A YOUNG MAN

In 1882, after the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and after the assassination of Morgan Earp, Wyatt sent his brother Virgil, the Earp women, and Mattie with the body of Morgan home to Colton, California.

Warren and Wyatt Earp stayed behind to begin the Earp Vendetta Ride.

Imagine Mattie waiting in California for Wyatt's message to return to Tombstone. But a telegram never arrived.

Meanwhile, Wyatt became more involved with Josephine. They married sometime later.

"MATTIE EARP"

PROBABLY IN HER THIRTIES

Mattie, though, heartbroken and not knowing why Wyatt did not send for her, moved on to Globe, Arizona. She returned to prostitution and moved again to Pinal City, Arizona.

On July 3, 1888, after six years of waiting for Wyatt, she took a lethal dose of laudanum. Her death was ruled suicide. She was thirty-eight years old.

The name "Mattie" never appeared on any court records throughout her life. During one period, she was known as "Sally," which may have been phonetically mistaken for her Iowa accented "Celia," or "Celie."

Celia Ann Blaylock became one of many tragic figures during the Nineteenth Century in the Wild West. History has left us with countless personal stories.

 

 

Her story seem particularly lonely and sad.

She was laid to rest on a lonely hilltop one mile from Pinal,

which is now a ghost town.

 

 

~*~*~

Sources:
Legends of America:
  Historical Women Index
  Wyatt Earp-Frontier Lawman
WestWeb-Western Women in History

Wikipedia

Wikimedia Commons 

  

Brilliant Old West Lawyer - Temple Lea Houston

www.ciaragold.com

 

Two years ago, at a DAR (Daughters of American Republic) luncheon, I had the pleasure of listening to a very engaging speaker on the life of Temple Lea Houston. I’ve grown up hearing about the exploits of his father, Sam Houston. I even lived in Huntsville for a short time and spent many pleasant hours touring Sam Houston’s home, but I hadn’t ever given much thought to the man’s children.

Amazing since Temple Houston turned out to be such an important figure in Texas/Oklahoma history himself. He was the youngest of eight children and was the only one born during Sam Houston’s reign as the Governor of Texas. Unfortunately, he was orphaned at age 7 and was sent to live with an older sister in Georgetown, Texas. In all likelihood, he may have known my forefathers as they were prominent citizens of Georgetown themselves during this time.

But Temple was destined for great things and left home at 13 to join a cattle drive. Later, after working as a page for the US Senate in Washington, D. C., he developed a love for law and enrolled in TAMU in 1877 (100 years prior to my own enrollment in that same university). At age 21, he was the youngest to pass the bar and open his own law practice in the state of Texas.

While becoming a lawyer was indeed quite an accomplishment, it was his theatrics in the courtroom that earned him a memorable place in Texas and Oklahoma history. The man could deliver a speech that enthralled listeners, but he had no problem punctuating his points with extra drama. Once, to prove a point, he shot two Colt 45s filled with blanks at a stunned jury. The jury found the defendant guilty but because “they scattered and mingled with the crowd” when Houston shot off his colts, he was granted a mistrial. The next time around, the man was acquitted.

In 1894, Temple moved his family to Woodward in Oklahoma territory where he served as legal counsel for the railroad. A very skilled marksman, he got into a fight with the brother of outlaw, Al Jennings. He shot and killed the brother and was tried and acquitted for the man’s death on the grounds of self defense.   

His most famous defense was called the “soiled dove plea” in which he managed to have a prostitute released from charges of plying her trade after the jury deliberated only ten minutes. The speaker I saw acted out the speech with all the passion and elocution Temple Houston must have employed, and I could see why the jury would be so swayed.  

I wish I’d known about this colorful figure at the time I wrote Julia’s Golden Eagle.  His background would have provided a lot of ideas for drafting that scene. Not only does Jake have to go through a court trial for murder, but later, he discovers his own passion for the law and decides to attend law school.

Excerpt:

The prosecution had called all their witnesses. The judge declared a break for lunch, and Jake was escorted back to his cell. He hoped Bob could find Miss Julia Stanton before the trial commenced again. If not, he might face the end of a rope or worse, life imprisonment at the State Penitentiary in Huntsville.

He shuddered. He’d prefer a hangman’s noose to imprisonment again. Even after five years, the horrors of that Yankee hellhole still haunted him. He’d lie awake at night and wonder why God had spared his miserable life while all around him, men lay dying. Closing his eyes against the traumatic memories, he waited quietly for the trial to continue.

“You don’t seem too concerned about the trial.”

Jake opened one eye then the other. A man of medium height with flaming red hair leaned casually against the wall facing Jake’s cell. He gazed at Jake with an intensity that was almost frightening. His jeans were creased and worn where the tie down for a gun would have been. The sheriff must have confiscated his weapon.

“’Peers to me like you’re not doing so well at that trial. In fact, you’ll be lucky to get twenty years. My guess is a life sentence.”

Jake closed his eyes again; ignoring the taunts the man threw his way. Outwardly, he maintained a detached attitude. In truth, fear gnawed at his insides. He prayed to God in hopes God had not forgotten him. With an afternoon of testimony still left, Julia Stanton would come to his rescue. She had to.

And then there was his brother, Tabor. He had his lawyer send out several telegrams expecting at least one to find its way to his brother. These thoughts gave him a measure of hope, but realistically, he knew his days were numbered. A black curtain of despair blanketed his mood. A stay in prison would surely kill him as easily as the noose, only the death would be long and drawn out.

Movement caused Jake to snap his eyes open. “Enjoying the show, mister?”

The man, dressed all in black as if he were the grim reaper himself, sauntered closer to the bars. His visitor had the audacity to grin. “As a matter of fact, I am. Thanks.”

“I get the feeling, you didn’t come all the way over here to gloat. What do you want?” Jake asked, his emotions strangely under control.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Nolan, I want the same thing as you.”

“A million dollars and a sassy lady?”

“You’re not a very likeable fellow, are you? Never mind. I guess facing charges of murder when you aren’t guilty has left you slightly bitter and a tad resentful.”

Available for Kindle

That got Jake’s attention. He uncurled his body and sat up on the cot.

He kept his features carefully schooled. “All right, I’m listening. I’m your captive audience.”

“A real comedian. I can’t save you from this trial, but I want the real culprit. I want the real killer brought to justice. I need to know what you know and what you think you don’t know. I need you to recall even the slightest detail of that night. Try to remember trivial things.”

“What’s in it for me?” Jake leaned against the rough, stone wall.

              “A clear conscience when you meet your maker.”

Samuel Riley III - Chief Riley

I have a cousin who loves to search old records and is putting together a family tree for the Riley branch of the family. Our mothers were Rileys before they married. She's gathered a lot of interesting data. 

Our great-grandfather’s great-uncle, Samuel Riley III

Samuel Riley [III], a white man, b. circa 1747 in Prince George County, Maryland, d. May 13, 1819 in Blue Springs, Roane County, TN.

Samuel is referred to in several reliable sources including the "History of the Cherokee Indians" by Emmet Starr and "Cherokee by Blood" compiled by Jerry Wright Jordan, and other records including marriage records pertaining to the Cherokees in Tennessee and Oklahoma. He married 2 daughters of Chief Doublehead in the Eastern Cherokee Nation, namely the Long Hair Clan. The first being Gu-Lu-Sti-Yu, and the second being Ni-Go-Di-Ge-Yu producing a total of 18 children. Samuel lived with his two wives near South West Point on the Tennessee River in Roane County, TN.

Samuel, who fought in the Revolutionary War, was long time agent and interpreter for the Indians was known as "The White Trader from Maryland". He was also a blacksmith, producing many implements for the Cherokee and operated a ferry on the Tennessee River. Roan County courthouse contains records that Samuel also ran a saltpeter mine and a powder mill, likely in vicinity of Nickajack. Most probably these were leased directly from the Cherokees beings he had a deal directly with Chief Doublehead to use part of the land designated as reservation land by the government. In fact, partly because of his making property deals with the white man, Doublehead was assassinated by irate Indians.

Still, Samuel delivered goods to the Cherokees who removed to the 
Arkansas River in 1813. There are 2 recorded letters from Crow Town and Fort Deposite asking for corn. Crow Town stated there were 19 families with 95 people. Fort Deposite letter stated their corn crops were poor and the Intruders had ruined their corn range and the people and the cattle and hogs were in bad shape. The 2nd letter does appear to have Samuel Riley's signature and he requested a meeting with General Jackson. Note the significance of the letter; this eventual meeting with General Jackson in the summer of 1817 was the basis of all future reservations in the east and emigrations to the west. And Samuel Riley was there, assumed as an interpreter. In part, the letter stated that he had a load of corn if the Indians would accept it.

Register of persons who wish reservations under Treaty of 8 Jul 1817, cites Samuel Riley residence as "south side of Tennessee opposite to South West Point", and his Reserve was taken in Cherokee lands. In  1818, Samuel Riley was granted life reservation in accordance with above Treaty.

Local lore is of Chief Riley, and that he went to England as a Cherokee Interpreter. Riley Creek and Riley Creek Recreational Area on south side of TN River. Riley Indian Chief buried in what is now commonly called the Smalley Cemetery. Although he was not of Cherokee blood, there are several precedence of white-men who were considered to be at least "minor Chiefs" (actually "leader" would be a better title) of several of the Tribes." More likely, it is possible that some of his heirs embellished his title somewhat after his death. Descendants tend to do that.

Many thanks to my cousin, Anna Muriel Dyson, who condensed a multitude of information for easier reading. She noted that many discrepancies were found and finding the true (or as true as can be assumed) answer was difficult. One source stated Samuel Riley married three of Chief Doublehead's daughters rather than two.

If you have a chance to try to read the above letter you'll note that some words are hard to decipher. Others we can understand but they're not spelled as we're used to seeing them. Regardless, they got the message across.

I hope someone in your family is recording and compiling your family's history.  Your descendants will appreciate knowing about their forefathers.

Thanks for stopping by. Please leave a comment.

Linda
www.lindalaroque.com

Juanita -- First White Woman Lynched in California

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

On the fourth of July, 1851, Downieville celebrated the anniversary of the birth of our republic. Tents, cabins, and buildings were decorated with flags, and hundreds of miners were in town for the event. They consumed large amounts of alcohol and presented lively speeches from a large platform in the town square. One after another, the orators proclaimed the right of liberty for all and declared all men were free.

However, something went wrong in Downieville. The next day these same people participated in one of the most shocking crimes in California history -- they allowed a frenzied mob to hang a woman without the constitutional right to a fair trial. The speeches about equality and liberty for all obviously were not meant to include women, especially of the Mexican race. The victim was Juanita, and her name will be forever linked with the area's colorful past.

Juanita (no last name was ever recorded) was considered attractive, with long, lustrous dark hair; delicate features; and passionate black eyes. She was a graceful young woman from Sonora, Mexico, who was reputed to have been a saloon girl at one time. In Downieville, however, she was considered a better class woman than the camp followers. She lived with her lover in a small cabin, and, although many men sought her favors, Juanita was content with her man, Jose.

They were a happy couple. Jose was a quiet man who dealt cards at Craycrofts' Saloon. In contrast, Juanita was noted for her hot-blooded Latin temper and brightly colored skirts. She met Jose after work every night, and they would walk home together holding hands in the moonlight.

On the day of the crime, July 5th, the Independence Day celebration had continued into the early morning hours when several of the revelers staggered from the saloons. Some were in high spirits, singing and laughing; others were drunken vandals who sent down the streets breaking open the doors of houses. Jack Cannon was one of the latter. He was a large Scotsman who was popular with the men and considered to be a camp rowdy.

On this particular morning some say Cannon fell against the door of Jose and Juanita's cabin, knocking it from its hinges. When Juanita asked Cannon to leave her alone, he called her obscene names in Spanish and accused her of being a prostitute. Juanita swore back at him and he left.

After a few hours of sleep, Cannon returned to Juanita's cabin. Jose politely asked Cannon to have his door repaired. Cannon, who was suffering from a hangover, started once more to insult both Juanita and Jose. The argument became louder, and a crowd began forming. Juanita, upset by the insults and the audience's jeers, asked Cannon to be quiet and invited him into her house to talk. At this point, it is not clear what happened. Either the large man lunged at her, or her temper became too violent. She grabbed a Bowie knife, and small and slender though she was, she managed to plunge the knife into Cannon's chest, instantly killing him.

The stunned spectators, realizing their friend was dead, started yelling. "Lynch them!" In fear, Juanita and Jose ran to Craycroft's where they thought they would find protection. The angry mob surrounded the saloon, and the couple's defenders were forced to run for their own lives. There was no escape for Juanita. She was dragged to the main plaza and forced upon the same platform where the public speeches were heard the day before. Cannon's body, with its ugly wound, was placed nearby to inflame the crowd.

The scene was set for a mock trial. The crowd's mood became uglier as the trial continued. Juanita was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging within the hour and denied the solace of a priest. They took the trembling 22-year old woman to a nearby cabin to wait for her death. Alone I the cabin, it can be assumed she prayed for forgiveness and the courage to accept her fate.

A rope was hung from the top of ta bridge, beneath it a plant swung out over the river. Townspeople lined the streets to see the hanging. The air was hot, and empty whiskey barrels still lay on the ground from the night before.

Juanita was taken from her cabin, and with her head held high, she bravely faced the crowd. She took the noose in her own hands and placed it around her neck. They tied her arms, skirt, and feet together -- within seconds Juanita was dead. It will never be known if she was guilty or innocent. She was the first woman who was denied the right of a trial. She was buried next to Cannon, and the legend of her hanging lives on.

Photo of Downieville at present.

Women of the Sierra by Anne Seagraves