Tuesday, January 24, 2023

WHO CARES ABOUT WOMEN VOTING: Colorado in 1893 by Marisa Masterson

 Women in Wyoming already had the vote. The ladies in Colorado wanted their state to be the next to gain that right. 


They'd tried in 1890 and been disappointed. Men voted not to allow women that right. After all, it was a short step from granting them the right to vote and the ladies using it to outlaw alcohol. Many men saw women's suffrage and the Temperance Movement as hand in hand.


The defeat in 1890 was such a disappointment that many of the national suffrage organizations didn't come to Colorado in 1893 to help rally people to the cause. Truly, this was a grassroots effort with local chapters champaigning hard for the female vote.

In fact this is where my hero and heroine first meet, at a local suffrage rally in Sylvia's Secret.

Scooting to the middle of the row, Sylvia worked to slow her ragged breathing. As she lifted the netting, nervous fingers made sure her glasses were still in place. Not that she needed them. No, they were only a part of her disguise, as was the tight bun that pulled at the skin of her face to give her a pinched look.

Women on each side of her flashed welcoming smiles before returning their attention to the speaker. Needing to blend in, Sylvia did the same. She expected to hear about foreign missions. That was a common topic for ladies’ meetings.

The speaker’s voice rose as she raised one fist. “Tyranny does not belong in our democracy. Women are as much a part of ‘We the People’ as are men. Those first words that begin the Constitution guarantee that we are members of this democracy.”

Sylvia nearly gasped. She raised a hand to her lips and coughed to cover it. Oh, she’d done it now. She was surrounded by suffragettes! If her father had discovered her secret in China Alley, she’d planned to argue that at least she hadn’t joined the suffragist movement. He hated that more than he despised the Chinese.

At that moment, the speaker spoke that very word. Chinese. “So, we fight not simply for the right to make our own future, but also for the Chinese women’s rights.”

That was a new thought for Sylvia. Her father and aunt both ranted about the unnatural suffragettes. “The Good Book’s already told us where woman belongs. In the home, that’s where,” her aunt had growled out more than once.

Try as she might, Sylvia couldn’t remember a bible verse that said this. Each time Aunt Clarice made the statement, Sylvia’s father only nodded and growled out, “Want the man to raise the children, they do, so they can run the government.”

In the end, it was almost a non-issue, sadly. The vote turn out was low. This meant that there was an edge for those who truly cared and wanted to see their wives, mothers, and daughters gain their democatic right to vote. Because of the low turn out at the polls, Colorado became the second state to give women the vote.

Men and women outside a polling station in Colorado, 1893.

Here's how I celebrate that historical win in my novel:

“It passed! The referendum is law!”

Lydia Frasier waved a telegram in one hand and a newspaper in the other. She ran to the head table where her son sat with his wife. If it had been anyone else yelling like that, shocked murmurs might have started. This was Lydia, and the guests at her son’s wedding reception understood.

“Fifty-five percent, Ernie! Take a look!” She handed him the telegram.

He scanned the small paper with a growing grin. Raising his head, Ernest held up a hand. “May I have your attention. Sylvia and I thank you for coming out to celebrate with us. Seems we have more to be thankful for today. Women now have the right to, and I quote, ‘vote in the same manner in all respects as male persons are.’”

Lydia shouted, “It’s official.”

But why such a low turn out? If men really felt strongly about stopping women's suffrage, wouldn't they have come out to the polls? The answer is yes, they would have. By this point, people were apathetic toward the issue. They wouldn't vote for or against. Many seemed to no longer care. 


Colorado Governor Granting Women's Suffrage, 1893.

For further reading, I encourage you to go to https://www.historycolorado.org/story/womens-history/2019/11/07/road-vote. This Colorado source is excellent for retelling the history of suffrage in that state.


Sylvia makes up her mind to no longer be the "good daughter". Not when Chinese children couldn’t attend school. Besides, she's nearly thirty-years-old, already a spinster! She was old enough to make decisions.

Her secret teaching leads her into danger. That danger sends her running for safety. Dodging into a hall to escape her pursuer, she finds that safety at a suffragette meeting.

What an odd place to fall instantly in love! Who would expect to meet a handsome man in a women’s rally?

A quick marriage and threats to her new husband’s life make Sylvia realize that some secrets have to come out into the open.

If you enjoy sweet romance with a historical flavor, then sink into a chair and start reading Sylvia's Secret.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B6D4PQMF

Sunday, January 22, 2023

A Look at Two Early Colorado Towns

 Post by Doris McCraw aka Angela Raines

Photo property of the author

This post is a look at a couple of towns in Colorado that I'm fascinated with. As you can imagine, they have a history that drew me to them. 

In the case of Rico, Colorado, it was the town where Joe and Harriett Ward's daughter ran away to, lived, and died there. While the Ward story I've told in other posts and in a symposium paper, I didn't talk about their daughter. The accepted story is that she couldn't take the lifestyle her parents were living so ran away and then committed suicide. I feel there is more to this story, and hope to pursue a closer version of what really happened. 

Rico town hall - from Wikipedia

Rico was a mountain town a mining town located in the San Juan mountain range about 27 miles from Telluride, Colorado, and 30 miles from Durango, Colorado. Below are a couple of articles from the newspaper that was published in the early days of the town. I find it fascinating what they were interested in.


Rico Sun News



Rico Record Oct 18, 1883


Spar City is another town that has a boom/bust story and has lived on as a private reserve. It came into being during the heyday of silver mining but folded after silver was demonetized in 1893. It was located close to the town of Creede, Colorado. Around 1905 a group from Kansas bought the town and all that was in it as a place of their own to come to. 

Below is a short piece from their short-lived newspaper. Electricity was a source of interest back then.



Spar City Spark March 20, 1893

Until next time when I take a look at more of the Colorado towns, stay safe, stay happy, and stay creative.

Doris








Monday, January 16, 2023

Gathering Around the Frame - The Quilting Bee by Jo-Ann Roberts

 


If you've been reading my blogs here on Sweethearts of the West, you know of my great love of quilts and quilting. Besides writing sweet historical romance, the afternoons I've spent creating quilts are the most relaxing, enjoyable, and self-satisfying hours to unwind.

  
Here are two examples of my quilts.

I quilt purely for pleasure, most days by myself. It's only during my annual Quilt Week in Lancaster County that I get together with my quilting "sisters" for ten days of sewing, fun, and food! In our own way, we are keeping alive the traditions of a quilting bee...exchanging ideas, swapping fabric, and sharing ideas and patterns.


Photos from my 2022 Quilt Week in Lancaster County, PA

So, what is a quilting bee?

The exact origin of the word is hard to determine, as is the case with many old things. It is either one, or a combination, of these two things:

  • The name bee stems from a beehive where bees work together for a single purpose
  • Bee is a folk-derivative from the word been or bean, meaning something good or helpful

Both words indicate the communal, helping-each-other spirit of a quilting bee. This spirit is still present in the quilting bees today.



A quilting bee has been a social tradition that has existed since the 19th century. Then, this social event was popularized as a way for women, especially for settlers of the Great Plains, to gather around the showcase their talent while they talked and gossiped with each other. Sometimes, women and their families came from miles away just to attend a quilting bee. Many times, the goal of a quilting bee was mainly social, and beginners were welcomed along with the experienced. A fun example of this was when young women would gather to help a bride-to-be finish her quilts before she married. What joyous social events these would have been.



These gathering were typically held when the weather got warm in the spring and
summer.  If a house was too small to hold a quilting frame, the quilting would be held outside. Gathered around a simply constructed wooden frame, the quilt in

Mehama, Oregon, 1905

progress would be stretched between two boards. This would result in a taut, flat surface for the women to sew on. Each woman would quilt her own block on the quilt. This allowed for the entire community to be represented on one quilt. Equally important, the women enjoyed getting away from the house and all the interruptions and distractions that come from being at home.


Edgar Melville Ward, Quilting Party, 1892
Collection of the International Quilt Study Center & Museum

Once the day was over, it was ended with a feast. The feast usually included wither roasted chicken or turkey. Men were also invited to the feast and gave the women the opportunity to mix and mingle.

The entire night was filled with dances and songs. The event was well-celebrated in many communities as it marked the end of long hours of labor, love, and exquisite craftsmanship.


The Quilting Bee by Anna May Robertson Moses (Grandma Moses)

 A quilting bee has always been a place where quilters help each other. In the olden days by finishing a quilt together, and in modern days by learning techniques and give each other feedback and inspiration. And mostly a quilting bee is a place for friendship and support. 




A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…

Two years ago, Noelle Prentiss lost her husband to an outlaw's bullet. With two children to raise, a small farm to tend, and a job making quilts to sell at the mercantile, she's doing her best to keep her property and life intact...until a man claiming to be the new deputy rides into her life captivating her children with his dog, his smile, and his easy-going charm.

When Coleman West agrees to stop by the Widow Prentiss's home on his first day as a deputy in a small Kansas town, he has no way of knowing obeying the sheriff's order will change his life. Spurned by love years before, he became a lawman, dedicated to protect and serve. Yet, he has no idea the widow and her children would call to his heart in a way he never expected.

With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance?

Or could a stranger from the deputy's past threaten the man who captured her heart?

 



Thursday, January 12, 2023

FREE SHORT STORY -- HOUSTON McCLINTOCK

By Caroline Clemmons

Today I'm sharing a FREE short story with you titled HOUSTON McCLINTOCK.

 

Texan Houston McClintock encounters life altering misfortune in the Georgia forest. Perhaps Gentle Dove, the beautiful Cherokee healer, saves his life in more than one way.

 

HOUSTON McCLINTOCK

Prequel to THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE

And the McClintock Series

 

Northwest Georgia, 1858

Too weak to move, Houston McClintock’s eyes refused to open.

“You’re safe now.” A voice soft as velvet calmed him.

He fought to speak, but his dry throat and tongue declined his effort.

A damp cloth moistened his lips, then drops of water trickled into his mouth.

Someone bathed his face. Blessed coolness. Gently, the person cleared his eyes.

He forced open his eyes. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen leaned over him. Her bronze skin proclaimed her an Indian. Light from the window shot blue and copper highlights across her coal black hair. Kindness shone from her face. She appeared a few years younger than his age of twenty-five.

“Good morning, I am happy to see you are awake. My name is Gentle Dove, but friends call me Dovie.” Her smile illuminated her features. She braced his head and held a cup to his mouth.

Gratefully, he swallowed.

His gaze searched the room for clues. Planed log walls bore signs of expert craftsmanship. He lay in a brass bed covered by a brightly colored quilt. Dovie wore Anglo clothes.

Whirling memories recalled his frantic ride for the trees. Men shooting. Pain in his shoulder and head. The sensation of falling.

Had the robbers stolen his saddlebags? Money from the sale of family land in Tennessee? His favorite horse, Lightning?

He tried to rise, but fell back. “Where?”

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fret. You’re in the home of John Tall Trees in Georgia. You were badly injured and stripped when Papa found you.”

Was he buck naked? Houston slid his hands frantically under the covers. He exhaled relief when he realized he wore britches.

She smiled and her eyes twinkled mischievously, as if she understood his concern. “You’re taller than Papa, but he loaned you clothes. We didn’t risk opening your wounds to add a shirt.”

He glimpsed strips of fabric binding his shoulder and chest. “Bad?”

“I dug out the lead and pressed medicine into the wounds. We almost lost you. You bled a lot. Only a strong will could have survived.” She leaned forward to adjust the bandage at his forehead. Honeysuckle filled his senses and a cascade of lustrous ebony hair fell across his chest.

An older man appeared behind Dovie. “About time you woke up, young fella. I’m John Tall Trees.”

“Here...long?” The few words he’d spoken since he’d awakened exhausted him.

“Four days since I found you and tracks of three men. You were in a bad way and needed help immediately. My daughter is skilled in our medicines.”

“Don’t fear.” She checked his shoulder bandage and offered a wry smile. “I have also studied white man’s medicines.”

John gestured over his shoulder. “Big dun showed up. Figured he was your horse.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t lost Lightning. “Saddle… bags?”

The man shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Nothing. Horse appeared interested in the house so we guessed he was yours. Smart horse to track you here.”

Horror struck, his family’s money was in the saddlebags. They’d trusted him and he’d let them down. “Family...write…for me?”

“They will be worried. Tell me who.”

He gathered his strength, to speak the necessary words, “Father…Vincent McClintock...McClintock Falls…Texas.”

John Tall Trees nodded and repeated the spelling. “Your name?”

“Houston.”

“I’ll post a letter today.” He said the name and address once more.

Houston tried to nod, but the hammering in his head increased with the slightest movement.            He closed his eyes.

Dovie tucked the quilt around him. “Rest. When you wake, I’ll have warm soup for you.”

The next few days tested Houston’s self control as Dovie tended to his needs. Her gentle ways spoke to his heart. Her intellect intrigued him. Her wry sense of humor made him smile. And when their eyes met, he sensed she shared his interest.

He also enjoyed the Tall Trees’ down-to-earth values. Helping others. Peace. Unencumbered life. Why couldn’t everyone live this way?

His first day back on his feet, Dovie walked him as far as a chair. “Disgusting I’m so weak.”

Several days later, he walked to the front porch with Dovie supporting him with his arm draped over her shoulders. The sun heated his skin, but not as much as the woman beside him. He turned to face her, gazed into her mesmerizing dark eyes, and gave in to temptation.

“Dovie,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers. Meeting eager response, he molded her against him and deepened the kiss. Her low moan of pleasure sent his hands roaming over her back.

The sound of a deep cough broke them apart. Dovie’s father stood in the yard, arms crossed.

Dovie stared at the ground as if embarrassed.

Unashamed, Houston kept his arm around her waist.

“Looks like you’re feeling fine, young fella,” John Tall Trees said. “Daughter, are you all right?”

She raised her head. “Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” Eyeing Houston, the older man pointed an accusing finger. “Don’t you dare hurt Dovie.”

“I won’t, sir, I will treat her with the respect she deserves. You have my word.”

John nodded before he strolled into the house.

Over the following weeks, Houston kept his promise, but found it mighty hard whenever Dovie was in his arms. As their love grew, he determined to make her his wife.

Six weeks since he’d been attacked, Houston vowed he would never tire of seeing Dovie’s graceful movements. He’d dragged his feet about resuming his journey because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her.

“Let’s wed now, Dovie. Please, then you can come with me.”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “If your family says they will welcome me, I will marry you and live in Texas.” She turned and her gentle eyes held sadness as she regarded him. “I have met too many whites to believe you could be happy with me. Disapproval would kill your strong spirit.”

Anger spiraled through him. He had to admit she was right about many whites. “Your opinion is the only one that matters.”

She turned away. “You’ll care what your parents and brother think. If what you believe is true, you can return for me. If you don’t come back, I’ll carry you in my heart.” She fled to her room.

Disheartened, he stomped to the front porch.

John sat on the long bench against the wall.

Houston plopped beside him. “Hate to leave, but Dovie won’t marry me until I tell my family I love  her. Also, they trusted me and I should face them in person when I tell them how I was robbed of their money from the sale of Granpa’s farm.”

“You are an honorable man to feel as you do.”

“John, you haven’t said. Do you mind if your daughter and I wed?”

The older man glanced his way. “I like you, and you are a fine man. It’s my wish to see Dovie married with children.” Several minutes passed before John shrugged. “But who can say? Perhaps you will feel differently about us when you are surrounded by your own people.”

Sick of the same argument, Houston exhaled his frustration. “My love for Dovie is genuine. She and I belong together.”

Without speaking, John stared at the pasture where his horses grazed.

Frustrated, Houston stood and went inside.

The next morning, Houston saddled Lightning with tack loaned by John, and then led the gelding to the cabin steps.

“When I return, we’ll be wed, Dovie.” He embraced her, wishing to hold her forever.

She pulled away to look up at him. “I will keep my love for you in my heart.”

He captured her hand and pressed it over his heart. “My heart beats for you.”

He shook hands with John. “When I return, I will repay you for your kindness, but I can never  repay you for saving my life.”

“Travel safe, my son.”

Houston realized John Tall Trees harbored the same doubts as his daughter. He saw it in the older man’s eyes. Houston knew father and daughter believed they would never see him again. He’d prove them wrong.

“If I don’t return, Dovie, you’ll know I’m dead.”

***

Houston rode for over two weeks before he reached the Texas Hill Country town of McClintock Falls. When he turned into the long, tree-lined drive to his parents’ home, his heart lightened. Although John had written he’d been robbed, Houston dreaded telling them he’d lost the money, but looked forward to sharing his good news.

He shouted, “Hello the house.”

Papa and Mama came outside. Mama waited on the porch.

His father hurried to embrace him. “We’ve been watching for weeks. How are you, son? Any permanent damage from your injuries?”

“Naw, you know I’m too ornery to keep down.” Pleasure drove travel’s weariness from him. He handed Lightning’s reins to a stable hand and walked up the steps with his father.

His mother accepted his kiss and placed a hand on either side of his face. “Let me look at you and be certain those heathens didn’t hurt you. Glad that Indian wrote us, but no good comes of associating with their kind.”

Houston stepped back and frowned at his mother. “Mama, remember that white men robbed and almost killed me. John Tall Trees and his daughter literally saved my life.”

All his life Mama’s uppity ways had annoyed and sometimes embarrassed him. He’d never had them driven home so hard before. She was overly proud the town was named for Papa, but how did that make them better than anyone else?

His father slapped his back and pushed him gently forward. “Now, Zarelda, he just said the Indian family saved his life. I’d say that’s plenty good.”

“John Tall Trees found me in the woods near their home. Robbers had shot me, got the money from the land sale, stripped me bare, and left me for dead. I’d have died, but John took me to his home. His daughter nursed me back to health.” Houston wanted to say more, but decided to bide his time.

“We’ll miss that money, but your safety is all that really matters. I see you still have Lightning.” His father wouldn’t stop patting his back.

“The robbers stole him, but he showed up at the Tall Trees’ place minus his tack.

His mother’s skirts swished until she settled into her chair in the parlor. “Sit down and tell us about the trip. How were the folks in Tennessee?”

“Couple that bought Grandpa’s farm appeared nice. Folk were happy to see me and peppered me with questions about both of you. Sorry our kin’s letters for you were stolen. I can tell you who wrote, but not what their letters said.”

His father sat across from him. “Nice of that Tall Trees fella to send us word. We’d of been sick out of our minds otherwise.”

“John’s parents and other Cherokee friends escaped removal by hiding in the forest. His wife has passed on, but he and his daughter live in a large log home. He’s well respected and an educated man. Has near as many books as you do.”

“An Indian reading books? Hmph, getting above himself in my opinion. Doubt he actually read them, anyway. Probably stole them.” His mother turned up her nose.

Houston’s homecoming wasn’t going the way he’d imagined. An emptiness settled in Houston’s belly. Sadness sliced through his dreams. He’d had such hopes about the future. Admitting Dovie and John had been right hurt more than being shot had.

“Mama, the daughter, Dovie, is the local healer like Austin’s wife is here. Since they’re far from a doctor, local people of all races and incomes seek her skill.”

Vincent McClintock slapped his knee. “A healer? Now wasn’t that lucky for you?”

His longing for her had been almost unbearable. “She’s a remarkable woman in many ways.” Houston took a deep breath. “I’ve asked her to marry me.”

His father smiled and slapped his back. “Congratula—”

“You what?” Mama interrupted. She stared agape for seconds before she jumped to her feet and shouted, “Houston McClintock, I won’t have it.” She shook her finger at him as if he were a child. “You’ll marry a nice white girl and have white children. No Indian will ever set foot in this home, do you hear me?”

***

Dovie added another pebble to the thirty-three in the jar she’d set on the windowsill, one for each morning since Houston had been gone. When the jar was full, she’d know he wasn’t coming back. Her heart ached with missing him. She longed for his strong embrace, the smiles they’d shared. Now that she’d known his love, loneliness overwhelmed her.

Papa patted her shoulder. “You must keep busy, Dovie.

Deep inside she knew his family would not accept her. She belonged in the Georgia forest. Here she had a purpose. Helping people with her healing brought her pleasure. Without her, who would tend those who now sought her care?

I’m strong. I have a good life. I will survive alone.

Yet sunlight shining through the half-filled jar taunts me.

Truly I want Houston.

Dovie wiped tears from her face. The sound of horses trotting toward the cabin caught her attention. Did someone need her help? She rushed to the window and peered through the glass.

Houston rode into the yard leading three beautiful mares and a mule. Packs loaded the mule.

He’d returned to her! She flung open the door and ran to greet the man she loved with all her heart, her soulmate.

After dismounting, Houston grabbed her and spun in a circle.

Her father stepped from the barn, a wide grin splitting his face. “Hello,” he shouted. He hurried toward the couple. “I will take care of the animals.” He led them toward the barn.

Laughing, she searched Houston’s eyes. “I...I wasn’t certain you’d return. Our worlds are so different.”

“Your world is mine, my love.” He kissed her softly at first, and then ardently. “I’ve missed you every minute. I hope we can be married right away.”

She ran her palms over his powerful chest and wide shoulders, almost unsure he’d really returned. “I’m so glad you’re here. I feared you’d stay with your family.”

He caged her in his strong arms. “You’re my family.”

“Are we going to Texas?” She leaned back to watch his sky blue eyes.

Sadness briefly tinged his face, swiftly replaced by a wide smile. “My love, our home will be here with your father. Forever.”

Understanding flooded her. His family had rejected her, but he’d chosen her over them. How she loved this wonderful man. Her heart almost burst with happiness.

She caressed his strong jaw and smiled. “Forever is perfect.”

In case you haven't read the story of Houston and Dovie's son, Dallas, here's the cover and a link to the book on Amazon. Of course, it's in e-book, print, and is free in KU.

https://www.amazon.com/Texans-Irish-Bride-McClintocks-Book-ebook/dp/B008V1UG54/

Cover showing the heroine,
Cenora Rose

Stay safe and keep reading!

  

Sunday, January 8, 2023

A Few Woozy Words via Influenza A from Cora Leland Author

 Welcome! to Cora Leland's Late Night Woozy Words!

The first day of summer in the Andes 2023

I promised the doctor not to write too much, and since I want to get well right away I'd better cooperate.

Despite altitude sickness, then the flu, Rescuing Chrissie (Lakota 6) is up & running on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BPCNZ9KP



Things you might enjoy searching are these long-tailed keywords: The Overland Trail (1820-1869); Northern Arapaho and Cheyenne (1600-1878); Green Valley Rendezvous. (People do write saying they like to study these things.) 

And here's a good site for looking at ledger art. But do note that this isn't a museum but a commercial site. Click carefully if at all. Just read and look... that's what I do. https://prairieedge.com/native-american-ledger-art


Here's a ledger art drawing by the Oglala artist Black Road.  The decorations on the horse would have specific meanings.  For example, the horse that my heroine, Chrissie, wore were engagement decorations that the groom (Bear Wolf) gave to Chrissie.  In the author's words, these decorations included  blue and white leather braided into the pony's tail and designs hanging almost to the ground from Chrissie's saddle.


Black Road's highly decorated pony


Just another sun-drenched day in the mountains

I'd better plug in the heater and crawl to bed.  Best to you all, Cora Leland Author



 




Friday, December 30, 2022

Billy Owen, Surveyor and Eclipse Observer by Zina Abbott

 

I became interested in surveyor, William Octavius “Billy” Owen, when I learned that he viewed the 1878 total solar eclipse while on the summit of Medicine Bow Mountain. I started my books that included this particular eclipse with Mail Order Blythe, published in March 2021. I will be publishing Lauren, my fifth and final book with the eclipse connection, in January 2023.

Photographs of Billy Owen are available online, but are part of a protected collection. To see two of those photos, please CLICK HERE.

The parents of Billy Owen were originally from an area near Bristol, England. Before his birth, his father and other extended members of the family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). Prior to his birth, his parents and six-month-old sister, Eva, emigrated to the United States. It was in Utah Territory that Billy’s next older sister, Etta, was born in 1856. Billy, the family’s youngest child, was born in 1859. The mother never did join the same church as her husband, and soon decided to leave the Salt Lake Valley and return to England.

Laramie Depot

Billy Owen never saw a railroad until he was eight years old and the family arrived in Laramie, Wyoming Territory. Laramie was still a “Hell on Wheels” town, since the railroad reached Laramie in early May, five weeks before the Owens did.

It was there his mother learned the inheritance she counted on to pay their passages back to England had disappeared after the death of the family attorney. Going by the name of Sarah Montgomery, Billy’s mother rented some rooms in a hotel on what’s now First Street in Laramie, facing the tracks, and South A. Soon she opened a restaurant and store, just as she had in Idaho. Eva and Etta, by then 15 and 12 years old, helped their mother a great deal.

There were plenty of respectable people in town, but, according to the autobiography Billy wrote when he was sixty-two, there were also plenty of “bar room bums, thugs, garroters, holdups, thieves and murderers from railroad towns to the eastward, and the doings of this mob of criminals form a thrilling page in the history of Laramie.” In that environment, Billy roamed the streets playing pranks with his friends. He roamed the creeks fishing and the prairies hunting with the same friends. They hunted with an antiquated black-powder musket out of which they would shoot gravel and nails when they ran out of bullets.

In October, the vigilantes raided the homes of three men — Asa Moore, Con Wagner (or Wager, or Wagan) and Ed “Big Ned” Wilson, shot them full of bullets, and then hanged their bodies from the end of a log building downtown.  The same night, they told a number of other toughs to leave town immediately or face the same treatment. Next morning, Billy and his pals got a long look at the bodies. They recognized Moore by his big red flannel neckerchief.

Later the same day, Billy and his friend Phil Bath were in the street when they saw a group of men come out of a saloon, one carrying a coil of rope. In the middle of the bunch was a man known to all as “Long Steve” (aka Steve Young or Steve Long), who had terrorized the town and murdered several citizens. In spite of being warned to leave town, he remained. The vigilantes hanged him on a telegraph pole near the corner of what are now Grand Avenue and First Street, which was by the tracks. A big crowd had gathered, among them Phil and Billy, who watched from 20 feet away. Billy’s sister, Eva, watched from further back in the crowd. After these incidences, Laramie became a safer place to live.


In this picture of the crowd that gathered around the deceased “Long Steve,” the lone boy standing just left of the pole is Billy Owen.

Billy grew up to be a small man, reaching a height of only five feet tall. However, he made up for his size with fierce energy and ambition. He became Wyoming’s best-known surveyor. He loved the work, both the math and the walking.


In the summer of 1878, William O. “Billy” Owen was working with a surveying crew high in the Medicine Bow Mountains, about 36 miles west of Larame Territory. “Over that vast forest,” he later wrote, “the moon’s shadow was advancing with a speed and rush that almost took one’s breath.” This was the total solar eclipse of July 29, 1878.


“It was terrifying, appalling,” Owen’s account continues, “and yet possessed a majestic grandeur and fascination that only one who has seen it can appreciate.”

 

Billy Owen contracted with the precursor to the Federal Bureau of Land Management. From 1881 to 1891, he did over 100 BLM surveys, particularly in the Snake River Valley around Jackson Hole and western Wyoming. He surveyed and established the boundaries of Albany County, and did surveys in every other Wyoming county. 


 

In addition, he held posts as Albany County Surveyor, Laramie City Engineer, and US Examiner of Surveys for the Department of Interior until his retirement in 1914.  Active in Republican politics, he was elected Wyoming State Auditor in 1894 and served four years beginning in January 1895.  Lake Owen in the Medicine Bow Mountains, which is now a reservoir and part of the City of Cheyenne’s water supply system, is probably named for him.

In 1883, Billy was the first person to ride a bicycle through Yellowstone Park. He and a party of friends were the first people to climb the Grand Teton. Mount Owen, in the Tetons, is named for him.


Billy Owen at the summit of the Grand Teton in August 1924, when he was about 65 years old and made the climb with Paul Petzoldt as guide. The painted steel sign is the same one he and companions left there in 1898. American Heritage Center.

In 1888, Billy married Emma Wilson in Laramie. He and his wife never had children. She weighed 250 pounds and loved to bake him cakes. Billy’s great niece, Alice Downey Nelson, remembered him years later as a smart, fussy man with a short temper and a long, clear memory, who loved to tell stories.

Billy Owen and Emma moved to Los Angeles in 1910. He died in 1947 in Tucson, AZ.   A manuscript copy of his 1930s autobiography and Downey family papers (his sister Eva married Stephen W. Downey) are archived at the Laramie Plains Museum.

 


Lauren
is the book in which I actually include the scene involving Billy and the survey crew with which he worked. It is while searching for this survey crew that my hero, Jeb Carter, also views the eclipse. 

Lauren is currently on pre-order and will be released January 9, 2023. To find the book description and purchase link, please CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

Sources:

https://www.wyoachs.com/people/2017/12/20/billy-owen-laramie-pioneer-surveyor-and-mountain-climber

https://www.wyohistory.org/encyclopedia/kid-hell-wheels-laramie-railroad-arrived

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_O._Owen

https://www.wyohistory.org/encyclopedia/kid-hell-wheels-laramie-railroad-arrived