One of the best known text books in the history of the American school system is the McGuffey Reader.  Some estimates put the number of these books sold between 1836 and 1960 at over 120 million copies.  This places it in a category alongside Webster’s Dictionary and the Bible for number of copies printed.  Of course they have continued to sell to this day – at a rate of 30,00 copies a year every year since 1961.

The editor of these famed texts, William Holmes McGuffey, was born near Claysville, Pennsylvania in 1800, but grew up in Ohio.  The son of Scottish immigrants, McGuffey was raised in a household that fostered strong opinions on religious beliefs and the value of education.   These influences carried over into his adult life.  An interesting fact about W.H. McGuffey was that he had a remarkable memory and was known to memorize entire books of the bible.

At age 14, McGuffey became a roving teacher.  His first assignment had him in a one room schoolhouse with 48 students.  It wasn’t unusual for the young McGuffey to work 11 hour days, six days a week as he taught in a series of frontier schools in Kentucky and Ohio.  And in most of these schools, since few textbooks were available, the children brought their own books, primarily the Bible.

During this time, McGuffey also pursued his own education, eventually graduating from Washington College in 1826.  Shortly thereafter, he accepted a position as Professor of Languages at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio.  A year later, he married Harriet Spinning.

McGuffey soon acquired a reputation as a lecturer on biblical and moral topics.  When Truman and Smith, a small publishing firm in Cincinnati, became interested in creating a series of graded readers for primary level students, it was Harriet Beecher Stowe, a longtime friend of McGuffey, who recommended him for the assignment.  The year was 1836 and within a year of signing the contract McGuffey completed two of the four books in the commissioned series.  For his work he received $1,000.  The next year he completed two additional books.  The fifth and sixth books in the series were later completed by his brother Alexander in the 1840s.

McGuffey Readers contained stories, poems, speeches and essays.  They were among the first student texts in the nation designed to be progressively challenging with each volume.  The first Reader introduced the alphabet, employed the phonetic method of learning words and other basics.  Once a student had mastered those skills, the second Reader used vivid stories and placed an emphasis on understanding the meanings of sentences.  The third Reader, which was equivalent of a current 5th grade text, focused on the definitions of words.  The fourth Reader taught students advanced reading and comprehension skills.  Unlike previous texts which employed uninteresting lists and memorization, McGuffey threaded new vocabulary words within the context of literature, gradually introducing new words while repeating the old.

A hallmark of McGuffey’s Readers was their strong moral tone.  He believed spirituality and education were essential and intertwined in the fostering of a healthy society.  The works selected for inclusion in his Readers, besides teaching the basics of reading and grammar, were designed to teach principles of religion, morality and patriotism.   They also included themes on nature, games, manners and proper attitudes toward family, God, companions, authority figures, the less fortunate and animals.  In these works, right was always victorious and wrong was always punished.  The stories emphasized goodness, truth, honor and strength.  These books helped to frame nineteenth century America’s morals and values, tastes and character.

McGuffey also had strong beliefs on how teachers should conduct their classes.  He suggested that teachers read aloud to their students, he listed questions after each story to test comprehension and encouraged teachers to study the lessons as well.

Gradually, other texts began to replace the McGuffey Readers in the schoolroom.  The call for more rigorous grade distinctions, less emphasis on morality and spirituality, and a changing view of teaching methods speeded up the decline in their usage.  But they have never completely disappeared from the scene and are still in use today, especially in the home schooling environment.

McGuffey penned very few other works in subsequent years.  He advanced in his career in education, taking positions of  progressively greater responsibility, including college president, until he retired as Professor of Moral Philosophy at the University of Virginia.  McGuffey died in 1873, and is remembered as a great philanthropist and as a man who found success as an educator, lecturer and author.

Amy T

is the winner of

The Substitute Bride

by

Janet Dean.

I have your email address that was attached to the comment, Amy.

If you don’t hear from me soon, email me and

DEMAND YOUR BOOK at

mary @ maryconnealy.com

And thank you EVERYONE, for stopping by

Petticoats & Pistols

I’m delighted to be back as a guest at Petticoat and Pistols, a blog that’s chockfull of great information! I’ve found myself perusing previous posts, sharing a laugh or a nostalgic sigh as I filled up on historical tidbits.

I’m especially excited that in three days The Substitute Bride, Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical, will hit the shelves. It was a fun story to write—with a mail-order bride, disgruntled groom and a small, personality-filled town. Here’s a peek:

They Struck a Bargain for Marriage

Fleeing an arranged marriage, debutante Elizabeth Manning exchanges places with a mail-order bride bound for New Harmony, Iowa. Life on the frontier can’t be worse than forced wedlock to pay her father’s gambling debts. But Ted Logan’s rustic lifestyle and rambunctious children prove to be more of a challenge than Elizabeth expects. She doesn’t know how to be a mother or a wife. She doesn’t even know how to tell Ted the truth about her past—especially as her feelings for him grow. Little does she know, Ted’s hiding secrets of his own. When their pasts collide, there’s more than one heart at stake.

Why was Ted disgruntled? When he and Elizabeth are about to speak their vows, the bride suggests one teeny change—the name on the marriage license. J A clear sign trouble lies ahead for this couple.  

 Perhaps you know an interesting or funny incident that took place at a wedding ceremony. If so, please share.   

 As a homemaker and mother, Elizabeth Manning is definitely a “fish out of water.” Yet no matter how inept she is, she never gives up, even finds unique ways to handle the children and her new and very challenging life on the farm. I admire her spirit and fortitude—the same attributes that enabled women to survive the challenges of the West.      

 In my quest for information to write this story a friend suggested I read Hearts West: True Stories of Mail-Order Brides on the Frontier. The author Chris Enss relates fascinating stories of men and women who wed sight unseen. My husband and I dated for 2½ years. After we married, it didn’t take long to discover we still had things to learn about one another. All good, of course. LOL Can you imagine the surprises in store for these couples who may have only exchanged a few letters or perhaps a picture and often never met until their wedding day?

 Why did these women leave behind everything and everyone they knew to take the amazing step of marrying a stranger? Some were motivated by the fear of spinsterhood. Others had a desperate need of life’s necessities and hoped for a better life. In today’s world a high percentage of marriages are arranged, a norm for many cultures.

 In the Gold Rush era in America, men in the West needed wives. Men and women seeking a mate placed personal advertisements in newspapers, giving physical description, their financial situation and whom they sought. Throughout the 1870s, 1880s and 1890s a weekly newspaper, The Matrimonial News, printed in both San Francisco, California and Kansas City, Missouri, facilitated matchmaking.

 In Hearts West, I found the mail-order bride account of Eleanor Berry, a teacher from California, particularly interesting. Twenty-two and afraid she’d be a spinster, Eleanor responded to Louis Dreibelbis’ advertisement for a bride. Louis described himself as wealthy and average-looking. Their three month correspondence led to a marriage proposal. Eleanor resigned her teaching position and took a train then a six-horse stagecoach carrying twelve other passengers. The trip was uneventful trip—until four bandits held up the stagecoach. As they were about to use gunpowder to blow the door off a safe onboard, Eleanor protested the loss of the trunk holding her trousseau. When the leader hauled it down, Eleanor noted a jagged scar on the back of his hand. Reaching her destination, Eleanor prepared for the ceremony. Though her groom looked surprised when he saw her and Eleanor thought his voice sounded familiar, the two exchanged vows. As Eleanor signed the marriage license then passed the pen to Louis, she saw that same jagged scar. She screamed and ran upstairs. Louis rode off, wondering how his bride had recognized him as the thief. Eleanor returned home too embarrassed to admit what happened, but when the truth came out, she attempted suicide. The fast action of her guardian and local doctors saved her life. Two months after the robbery, sheriff’s deputies caught up with Louis. He testified against his fellow bandits, was released and given a one-way ticket to his hometown in Illinois, warned never to return to California. Hearts West makes fascinating reading and I recommend it to anyone interested in mail-order bride stories. Though I’m unsure how many marriages occurred, the accounts of those that did prove the outcome of these mail-order bride matches varied from wedded bliss to the misery Eleanor experienced.

 An interesting attempt at meeting the need for wives was devised by Asa Mercer. In 1864 and again in 1866 when men far outnumbered women in Washington Territory, Mercer tried to bring a shipload of marriageable women from the East to Seattle. Bachelors gave Mercer money to finance the trip and bring them back a bride. Delays and other complications hindered the success of Mercer’s plan. The number of the Mercer Maids, as they came to be called, willing and able to make the trip didn’t live up to the expectation of the waiting bachelors who’d paid for a bride, creating quite an uproar when the ship docked five months after it left New York’s harbor. The trip had cost more than Mercer had calculated so he couldn’t refund their money or live up to his promises. Though Mercer’s intentions were good, others intentionally swindled people who paid money for a mail-order mate that never materialized.

 But if not for those brave women who moved west to marry and make a home for their husbands and children—establishing families, as well as founding institutions like churches, schools and libraries, we might not have seen such flourishing civilization of the frontier.  

 Did any of your ancestors marry for convenience? If so, please share their stories.  

 Thanks for chatting at Petticoats and Pistols today. For a chance to win a copy of The Substitute Bride, please leave a comment.

 Visit Janet online at:

www.janetdean.net

www.janetdean.blogspot.com

www.seekerville.blogspot.com

Email her at:janet@janetdean.net

I love cowboy poetry. Just like my favorite western reads, cowboy poetry is often full of humor and vivid western imagery.  In honor of the approaching Valentine’s Day, I’m going to share a few of my favorites.

A love Poem

My horse is brown,
my dog’s name is Blue.
I feel so lucky to
have someone like you.

Your hair is like cornsilk
blowing in the breeze.
It’s softer than Blue’s
without all the fleas.

Cut from good cloth
like my best longjohns,
You pluck chickens all day
and still sing sweet songs.

I think I’m in love,

and I’m tickled pink.

We go together like, a skunk goes with stink

Gunnin’ for Cupid

By Charlie Sierra

I got my twelve-gauge primed up
With a double-ought buck load;
If Cupid wants to keep his hair,
He won’t come up MY road.

If that varmint comes around this year,
I’m gonna lay him low;
He won’t get no chance to nock
An arrow in his bow.

Ya guessed it- love has wounded me;
My heart’s shot fulla holes,
‘N’ one dang woman slapped
A runnin’ iron on my SOUL!

Them ladies throw a big wide loop
‘N’ rope me ever’ year;
But I’m gonna shoot their scout,
Afore they make this bull a STEER!

I think I’ll mount his cherub head
Right up above the door;
Or should I let him live,
‘N’ keep him ’round to do the chores?

Either way, I reckon
I’ll be doin’ men a favor;
They’ll break them chains of love at last,
‘N’ consider me their savior!

He’s comin’ now, ’cause I can hear
The sound of flappin’ feathers;
All right, Cupid, fill yer hand!
Time to slap some leather!

Aw dang, there’s someone with him!
That Cupid shore is shady;
How’d he know that I ain’t got
The heart to SHOOT A LADY?

For My Valentine

by Bruce Satta

When I’m countin’ blessin’s
You are always first.
You’re there with me in good times,
And right there for the worst.
You’ve stuck with me through thick and thin
Along life’s windin’ trail.
When I describe my love for you -
Well, words can only fail

For at that fateful moment
I first gazed into your eyes,
I felt my soul aflutter,
Like a thousand butterflies.
I felt my spirit soarin’
As high as any cloud,
And since we’ve been together,
I couldn’t be more proud.

We have our disagreements
As every couple will,
Yet, even when our nostrils flare
We love each other, still,
And when we fight and squabble,
You know I can’t stay mad:
Why, you’re the best darned saddle horse
A fella ever had.

Do you have any favorite poems?

If you liked these, here’s a few cowboy poetry sites:

Cowboy Poetry.com,  The Poet’s Corner, Cowboy Fun, Poetry Scriber

Thanks to everyone who stopped by Wildflower Junction today and left a comment. It was a pleasure to visit with you.

 I placed all of your names in my cowboy hat and drew out three:

Vickie McDonough

Julie Steele

Karyn Gerard

Please send your address to me at: SaintJohn@aol.com, and I’ll get your autographed book out to you!

And for the rest of you, I’m posting the recipe for the cake that’s in the picture with my critique group. A couple of you mentioned it, and it’s one of my favorites to make and serve. I got the recipe from a neighbor many years ago, and have made it regularly since. Enjoy!

The super easy recipe calls for a Bundt cake pan. I have a silicone Bundt pan now and LOVE it! You just stick it in the dishwater and when it’s dry, stuff it into a baggie and tuck it away. I also have silicone muffin pans. Best invention ever! No more rusted tin or scraped-up Teflon.

 Black Forest Cherry Cake

1 pkg (2 layer) chocolate cake mix (not pudding in the mix)

¼ cup olive or canola oil

3 eggs

2 cans (21 oz each) cherry pie filling

Preheat oven to 350.

Combine oil and eggs with a wire whisk. Add one can of cherry pie filling and beat with electric mixer until batter is smooth.

Pour into sprayed 12 cup Bundt pan and bake 45 minutes or until done. Cool in pan about 20-25 minutes, then invert onto rack to finish cooling. If you use a silicone pan, you can cool a little longer and the cake won’t stick, then invert directly onto cake plate.

Heat the other can of cherry pie filling and pour over the top and into the center of the cake. Slice and serve with whipped topping.

Hello Darlings,

You’ll be happy to know that one of our favorite guests is making a return.

Miss Janet Dean has saddled up and will ride into the Junction come Saturday.

Miss Janet will shed some light on mail order brides and matters of the heart. The dear lady will give you an interesting look at the desperate practice that many men and women on the frontier engaged in. Ah’m going to listen close because she might give me some ideas on how to rope me a cowboy. Hee-hee!

Also, while she’s here, Miss Janet will talk about her new book called THE SUBSTITUTE BRIDE. It pure-dee looks like a humdinger.

She intends to give away a signed copy to someone who leaves a comment.

Ah know you don’t want to miss the chance for that. Hitch up your britches and don’t lollygag around. Be here Saturday. We’ll be looking for you!

I am a writer who appreciates a good critique group or partner. I was in a critique group for a few years before I was published, and have been in one all the years since I’ve been published—and most of those years in a group that meets every single week. My group goes through stages. Stage of productivity, members moving away, and our process of screening a replacement.

Every January we each buy a datebook or planner and use it as a tool for the coming year. We share our goals and hold each other accountable. My friend *lizzie starr has a couple of great blogs on goal planning and using a calendar if that interests you. CLICK HERE and HERE

It’s serious business, this critique group thing. You don’t invite anyone who isn’t compatible. You have to respect the people who are going to offer comments on your work. For me it has nothing to do with published or unpublished; it has to do with work ethic, knowledge or willingness to learn, and enthusiasm. I especially love having a new person or a beginning writer in the group because of their energy.

And frankly another brain ain’t nothin’ to turn your nose up at. I love my other brains during the brainstorming process or when I’m stuck. Sure, I get the ideas on my own, I put the pieces together and make all the decisions, but I only have one brain and one life experience. Getting feedback from other writers who have different perspectives AND understand the process of story writing is invaluable to me.

I know some writers who don’t like anyone else meddling in their stories—some find it changes their story too much. I go into the process with elements I’ve chosen that I won’t budge on, so the possibility of taking my story a wrong direction isn’t a problem or a possibility. I’m flexible about everything else because new perspectives keep me fresh. If someone in my group makes a suggestion that isn’t considered, it’s not because it was a bad suggestion; it’s just because that idea didn’t work for that writer’s story. We all understand that. Nobody gets her nose out of joint.

Our noses are all in joint, thank you.

Last year my RWA chapter started a different critique as well. Once a month, one of the members, Teryl Oswald, hosts an evening critique session to which all chapter members are invited. The members break up into brainstorming and critiquing groups and spend the evening working on each other’s stories. I enjoy it because it’s a terrific way to work with a more diverse gathering, hear other people’s ideas and stories and get to know chapter members I otherwise wouldn’t have otherwise had the opportunity to know. It’s a great place for beginners to find help and instruction.

I got my author copies of my April Mother’s Day anthology, To Be a Mother. My story is called Montana Rose, and it involves a school teacher, an orphan, and a stubborn rancher. Today I’m offering autographed copies to three readers whose names I’ll draw from the comments. Since I won’t be blogging here again before Valentine’s Day, this will be my Valentine offering.

Smooches!

When my editor e-mailed me last weekend that “you need a breed” for the stolen horses in my novella for next year’s Lawmen and Outlaws Christmas anthology, I realized anew that a horsewoman I am not.

So I searched and snooped and came up with Morgans as well as lots of cool pictures. This historic American breed started up about the same time as the United States itself, when legendary stallion Figure was born in 1789 in southern New England. He is the origin of our country’s first breed of “light horse”.

Although Figure was not as big as colonial workhorses nor as tall and long-legged as race horses, he consistently outperformed both. He became widely known for his ability to pull stumps and logs for settlers, and was also used as a saddle and driving horse. As his reputation swelled,  he had fun, too, winning races and pulling contests, and was a favorite mount at militia parades. He even carried President James Monroe on a muster-day parade.

All Morgans today trace back to Figure, the “foundation sire.” Since Figure was at one time owned by a man named Justin Morgan, the horse later came to be identified by that name. Subsequently, the entire breed as well. “Justin Morgan” became famed for his prepotency –the passing on all of his distinctive looks, conformation, temperament and athleticism no matter if the mare breeding with him was a large draft horse or an elegant racing type.

The “prince of steeds” died at the age of 32 from a kick in his flank by another horse. His offspring and descendents didn’t disappoint. Blessed with ground-covering gaits, Morgans covered many miles day after day at a steady rate of speed. They were dependable and determined to get the job done, making them a favorite horse in all lines of work. Earning a reputation as “horses of all work,” they were the preferred teams for stagecoach lines, for fieldwork on farms, and for transportation to town by the 1820’s. In the 1840’s, the breed’s trotting ability made it a favorite for harness racing, and its strength found Morgans headed for the California goldfields.

Justin Morgan’s grandson, Black Hawk, and great grandson, Hale’s Green Mountain Morgan, dominated the sires by mid-century. Black Hawk, beloved for his speed and elegant style, sired a world champion trotter, and in the 1850’s, these two stallions charmed visitors to Midwestern state fairs and heightened the demand for Morgans in the west. They were taken to California as ranch horses and harness racers, and helped run the Pony Express.

Several units of cavalry in the Civil War were comprised of Morgans, including the Vermont Cavalry. U.S. General Philip Sheridan’s charger Winchester (a.k.a. Rienzi), a noble horse immortalized after the war, was a descendant of Black Hawk.

The only survivor of Custer’s regiment at the Battle of Little Bighorn was his Morgan-mustang, Comanche.

 Bred to be taller today, the Morgan’s deep body, lovely head, and straight-clean boned legs make still make it a hit from cowhands in Montana to show-rings and dressage. The Morgan is at home mounted by tourists on America’s trails and by-ways as well as mounted by police in the city. Its gentleness and soundness makes this horse beloved as a therapeutic riding horse for those with various disabilities. When you’re in Shelburne Vermont, you can visit the Morgan Museum.

How about you? Authors, what horses “ride” through your plots? Ever ridden a Morgan? Share your horse-tales today!

There were so many “firsts” in our country in the 1800’s. Some came about quietly and some to great fanfare. The one I’m going to talk about today didn’t get a lot of attention except in the Wyoming Territory twenty years before they achieved statehood.

Eliza Stewart was born in 1833 in Crawford County, Pennsylvania. She was the eldest of eight children. Her father was Scots Irish and when her mother died in childbirth, Eliza took on the role of raising her seven siblings. Dispite all of her responsibilities, Eliza continued to attend school. She was an excellent student. She graduated from the Washington Female Seminary as valedictorian. Upon graduation she began teaching school. Eight years later, she decided to go West. She arrived in Laramie, Wyoming just as the town was about to open its first public school. Seeing as how Eliza held such glowing credentials, they quickly hired the unmarried woman as their first teacher. The first classes began in February 1869.

(That same year Wyoming granted women the right to vote and hold office.)

But, Eliza didn’t stay single very much longer. She met Stephen Boyd and fell in love. In March 1870, a few months before they were married, Eliza, at the age of 36, received a summons to serve on the grand jury.

I couldn’t find any information about the kinds of cases they heard, but it is known that they were highly praised for their work. And more importantly, it opened the door for other women to do things that before were limited to men.

I’m sure Eliza was thrilled to have blazed the trail. That was quite an honor.

Here’s a sculpted bust of Eliza that’s on display in Laramie.

She didn’t stop there though. Two months after her marriage, Eliza helped organize the Wyoming Literary and Library Association. She was instrumental in establishing the first library in Laramie.

And in August 1873, she became the first woman to be nominated to run for the Territorial legislature. However, she withdrew her name from the ballot. I’m not sure that anyone knows the reason why. Eliza did remain interested in politics though and got involved in the Women’s Temperance movement a few years later. In fact, she served several terms as the organization’s secretary and traveled to the party’s national convention in Indiana in 1888.

Meanwhile, she and her husband opened a “notions” shop in downtown Laramie. They sold boots, shoes, sewing machines, and a variety of household goods.

Also, Eliza and Stephen had three children, one of whom died in infancy.

Eliza slipped on a patch of ice during the winter of 1912 and broke her hip. The pioneer who had lived such a vital interesting life died a week later at the age of 79.

Because of her and women like her, the frontier West became a more civilized, much better place. She reminds me of the strong heroines we like to portray in our books. And here, readers think we craft these characters from somewhere in our brains!

Does your family history have people who seem larger than life? Can you imagine them leaving their mark on the Old West?

A funny thing happened when I was browsing through “The West, An Illustrated History,” a new book I recently purchased from Barnes and Noble’s bargain shelf (this department is very dangerous for me). I was looking for some unique slice of western history I could blog about when I wandered upon General Henry Sibley and Col. Edward Canby.

I stopped and read with avid interest. These two gentlemen, after all, are responsible for my writing career.

Yep. Single handedly they turned me from a public relations practioner into a writer.

I had built a small public relations company after years as a journalist. I specialized in real estate and politics. A strange combination, you might think, unless you realize that many developers and Realtors have zoning issues at stake, and there’s a symbiotic relationship between local and state politicians and real estate interests.

And then I read a copy of “Military History,” a monthly magazine. I love history. I majored in journalism and minored in American History in college, and my particular interest had been the American Revolution and the Civil War, interests that continued through the years.  I’d read all the Bruce Catton books among many others on the “war of  brothers.”   One reason I picked up this particular issue of “Military History” was the featured article on the Battle of Glorieta Pass in New Mexico.

General Sibley, a Louisianan who was known to fight almost as hard as he drank – one soldier called him a walking keg of whiskey — was selected to fulfil the Confederate dream to stretch its new republic far beyond Texas, north to the Colorado goldfields and all the way west to California. He was tasked to lead 3,700 Texans to Santa Fe, take the Colorado gold fields (desperately needed by the cash-poor south) and then to California.

Ordered to stop him was Lt. Col. Edward Canby who had some 4,000 poorly trained Union volunteers. What interested me most, though, was not the battle but the relationship between the two men. The magazine article said they’d been roommates at West Point and that Sibley married Canby’s sister. But in “The West,” the author, Geoffrey Ward, said yes, they had been roommates, but that Canby had been Sibley’s “best man,” and had married Sibley’s wife’s first cousin. I’ve read other accounts that claimed similar but slightly different marital relationships.

Bells went off in my head. Loud bells. Persistent bells. I knew, of course, that many friends, roommates, even relatives had met on opposing sides of a battlefield. That sad fact was probably the source of my fascination with both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. Friends fighting friends and brothers fighting brothers for the sake of principles. There is no stronger conflict, both internal and external.

This was a powerful example of those conflicts and suddenly my mind started building scenarios. I must add here that I’d never read a paperback romance. I had loved Mary Stewart and Victoria Holt and Frank Yerby and Frank Slaughter. I had particularly enjoyed Elswyth Thane’s Williamsburg series (particularly “Yankee Stranger”) but I had never been exposed to “romances.” I didn’t even know they existed.

All I knew is I had to write this story. Although people had previously suggested I write a book, I’d always scoffed at the idea. I was a journalist. I knew “who, what, when, where and why.” Adjectives and adverbs had been trained out of me. But still . . .the idea wouldn’t go away.

My tale was on a much smaller scale than a great battle of thousands. My hero – a Yankee major – was sent to take command of a Union force detailed to stop a Rebel band intent on capturing a Colorado gold field. The two – the Yankee and the Confederate – had been roommates and best friends  at West Point. My heroine is the sister of the rebel commander. Having lost everyone else dear to her, she insisted on being with him and served as a nurse to his men. And so I had several conflicts. More than several. Between the two men, between the Yankee and my heroine, and her with her brother.

I wrote early in the morning and late at night, obsessed with the story and its conflicts.. I didn’t write for publication. I just wrote for me. I never even thought of sending it to a publisher. And like many new writers of fiction, I had great doubts about showing it to anyone. There was too much of me in that book. I would be revealing parts that I didn’t particularly want to share.

But then I  read about a “How to get published” course at Emory University and on a whim I decided to go.   Nothing to lose, right?   One of the speakers was from Georgia Romance Writers, and  all of a sudden I realized I was writing a romance. I joined the group, the manuscript won second place in a contest, and I started sending it out to publishers. I received really nice rejection letters, most of which said they were not buying civil war romances but would like to read something else. I immediately started writing a Revolutionary War book, completely unaware that it was as unwanted as the Civil War.

To make a long story short, the Revolutionary War book, “Swampfire,” sold, then the Civil War story, “Between the Thunder,” was pursued by two editors. I learned then never say never.    Write what you have to write.

All those feelings came rushing back when I read again the story of Glorieta Pass: the feverish writing, the pain of  rejection letters, the joy of a sale.

But back to the battle.  The Union forces defeated the rebels, and General Sibley headed back to Texas with what was left of his forces. Col. Canby followed at a distance but did not attack again. He was later accused by some in the  War Department of not attacking the remaining southern forces because of the relationship with Sibley.

My interest in the war continues in many of my westerns. The end of the Civil War sent hundreds of thousands former soldiers west. The rebels went because there was little left of their homes. The northerners went because they had been exposed to life outside of factories and small farms. Opportunity beckoned, especially with ever new discoveries of gold and silver.   But they all took emotional as well as physical scars with them and that, of course, make for great heroes.

So thank you, General Sibley and Col. Canby. I owe you both much.