My new book

The Husband Tree

releases January 1st.

I’ve already talked to someone who’s found it in a store and it’s no longer listed as a ‘pre-order’ on Amazon.

So it’s out there.

A cynical cowboy has to convince the toughest cowgirl you’ll ever meet he should join her family. . .and then convince himself.

 Here’s the beginning 

The Husband Tree

Belle Tanner pitched dirt right on Anthony’s handsome, worthless face.

 It was spitefulness that made her enjoy doing that. But she was sorely afraid Anthony Santoni’s square jaw and curly dark hair had tricked her into agreeing to marry him.

Which made her as big an idiot as Anthony.

Now he was dead and she was left to dig the grave. Why, oh why didn’t she just skip marrying him and save herself all this shoveling?

She probably should have wrapped him in a blanket, but blankets were hard to come by in Montana. . .unlike husbands.

She labored on with her filling, not bothering to look down again at the man who had shared her cabin and her bed for the last two years. She only hoped when she finished she didn’t forget where she’d buried Anthony’s no-account hide. She regretted not marking William’s and Gerald’s graves now for fear she’d dig in the same spot and uncover their bones. As she recalled, she’d planted William on the side nearest the house, thinking it had a nice view down the hill over their property. She wasn’t so sure about Gerald, but she’d most likely picked right, because she’d dug the hole and hadn’t hit bones. Unless critters had dug Gerald up and dragged him away.

Belle had to admit she didn’t dig one inch deeper than was absolutely necessary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Husband Tree is available now on Amazon. And I’ve had my first reported sighting in a bookstore, so it’s HERE!. I have my author’s copies now. So I can give one away! YAY!

I’ve been playing my Mannheim Steamroller CD constantly on my computer. I just love their version of Deck the Halls. It says Christmas to me. And, I just heard Amy Grant singing Breath of Heaven. So, so beautiful, sort of downbeat and haunting but I keep thinking about it after it stops playing. I just love it.

Listen: 

Breath of Heaven

For a chance to win a signed copy of The Husband Tree and, in the spirit of the season, tell me:

Your Favorite Christmas Song

And to buy The Husband Tree on Amazon

CLICK HERE

And Have a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS

http://maryconnealy.com/

It’s Christmas Time!  I’ve been thinking and thinking of what I could possibly blog today, since Christmas was not a celebrated holiday for Native Americans before the arrival of priests into the far West.  One of my most favorite Christmas memories is being told a story the night before Christmas in an attempt to get me to go to sleep.  It didn’t work very well (getting me to go to sleep).  But it is a wonderful memory.

And so to that end, I thought I’d regale you with a story:

This is the story of the girl who married a star.  It’s origin is Sioux — I don’t know if that’s Lakota or Dakota or Nakota.  All three are Sioux, just different dialects.  By the way this story comes to us from the book, Favorite North American Indian Legends, printed by Dover.  Before I start, I wanted to say that this story reminds me of a story from one of my books, Soaring Eagle’s Embrace, an older title that’s no longer in print.  That story was based on a similar legend, only the legend that Soaring Eagle’s Embrace was based on was the story of a young man who fell in love with a star.  Okay, here is the story.

Long ago, there were two sisters, one whose name was Earth and the other’s name was Water.  This was at a time when all people and animals were in close communication with each other and so the animals supplied the sisters with all their needs.

 One night the sky was clear and beautiful and both sisters looked up to the sky through their wigwam — comment, now we know that this was most likely the Dakota since they were living in Wigwams — anyway, they looked up through the hole in their wigwam and admired the beautiful stars.

Earth said to her sister that she’d had a dream about a handsome young man and that she thought he might be a star.  Water responded saying that she, too, had seen a man in her dreams who was a brave man.

The sisters chose stars that they thought might be these men that they had dreamed of.  Water chose the brightest star for her husband.  Earth chose a little star that twinkled.

Then they slept.  When they awoke, they were in the land of the Sky.  The stars were, indeed, people.  Now it happened that the man that water chose was an older warrior and that the man that Earth chose was a young, handsome man.  Both sisters married these men and they were very happy.

One day the sisters went out to dig turnips (a much favored food at this time in history).  Both of their husband warned them not to strike the ground too hard.  But Earth, in her haste to dig the turnips, struck the ground so hard that she fell through the sky to the ground. 

Earth was found and cared for by two older people who tried to help her.  But she was so upset about losing her husband that all she did is cry.  She could not even see her husband in the sky because he had blackened his face because he was now a widower.  Earth waited and waited for him to come to her, but he could not.  However, he did give her a most precious gift. 

That night when she went to sleep, she dreamed of a beautiful red star.  It had never been in the sky before.  She knew at once that it was her son.

When she awoke, she found a handsome boy by her side — her son.  Although Earth’s husband could not come to get her again, and though he loved his son deeply, he gave to his wife the only thing that he could — their son, Star Boy.  It was a gift from his heart.

‘Tis the season of giving.  I hope you have enjoyed this story.  I thought it was quite beautiful.

 Now one more thing before I end.  Don’t  forget that I am running a holiday contest.  All you have to do is leave a comment or email me personally.  And as always, the contest applies only to the greater US 50 states and to Canada — also void where prohibited.  

Remember, too, that Black Eagle is still on sale at bookstores everywhere.  Merry Christmas!

For the sake of this blog, I’m going use the term “cowboy” rather loosely.  That’s because one of my favorite Christmas songs is by a country artist who grew up in southern California.  He’s more likely to be seen at the beach on a surfboard than on a cattle ranch, but he looks great in a Stetson and that’s close enough for today.

I’ll tell you his name and where he ranks on my list of Cowboy Christmas songs in just a minute.  First, though, I want to say Merry Christmas to everyone reading this blog. By now, I hope you’re ready for the holidays (I’m not) and that you’re relaxing with cookies or apple cider. I’m not doing that, either.  Try as I might, I’m never early for Christmas but somehow I make it on time.  That’s one of the reasons I like Christmas music so much. You can listen to it while you’re driving, shopping, wrapping, baking, decorating, etc..

For fun, here are my Top Five Favorite Cowboy Christmas songs.

No. 5 “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” by Gene Autry

The song itself isn’t what gets me, though it has a great story behind it. As the legend goes, Gene Autry, singing cowboy extraordinaire, recorded it in one take as the “B” side to another song on an old-style 45. The song went on to be one of the all-time favorites of kids and adults alike.

 What charms me about Rudolph is the romance in the TV special.  Here it is written in what romance writers call a “pitch” for a book:  “A young reindeer with a flawed nose must prove himself to Santa and win the heart of Clarice, the young doe who’s stolen his heart.” 

My husband likes the action in the show. Will Yukon Cornelius save the day? What about the Bumble? Will everyone escape from the Island of the Lost Toys? It’s a glorious moment when Rudolph lights up the night with his nose so bright and Santa delivers his load of toys. Things get even better when he kisses Clarice!

 No. 4. “Little Drummer Boy” by Johnny Cash 

Whatever Johnny Cash sings, there’s something raw and meaningful in his voice.  I like his version of this song a lot, but my all-time favorite was quite different. My husband and I were in church on a Sunday in December. The morning worship began with a solo drummer  marching across the stage.  The young man playing his drum that day must have been military, because his bearing was impeccable and his expression never changed. The rat-a-tat-tat of the snare drum still echoes in my mind.

 No. 3. “Mary Did You Know” by Kathy Matthea

I’m counting Kathy as a cowgirl because this is one of my favorite Christmas songs. I heard it for the first time just a few years ago. There’s something awesome and humbling about the lyrics: “Mary did you know, your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?”  Christmas is a time of healing, love and great gifts. That’s why I love this song. 

No. 2.  “O Holy Night” by Gary Allan

Gary is the cowboy-surfer crooner I mentioned earlier. I love his version of “O Holy Night.”  It gives me goose bumps.  It also reminds me of another time I heard this song.  I was fourteen years old and had gone to Bel Air Presbyterian Church for Christmas Eve services with a friend. Robert Goulet and his then-wife Carol Lawrence were part of the worship team. She sang, “Let There Be Peace on Earth.”  Mr. Goulet did “O Holy Night. I tell you, the rafters shook with the power of his voice.  

And last . . . Drumroll please . . .

 No. 1:  “Christmas For Cowboys” as sung by John Denver.  

The song was written by Steve Weisberg in 1975 and it speaks for itself.   Here are the words:
Tall in the saddle, we spend Christmas Day, driving the cattle over snow
covered-plains.
All of the good gifts given today, ours is the sky and the wide open range.
Back in the cities they have different ways, football and eggnog and Christmas parades.
I’ll take my saddle, I’ll take the reins, It’s Christmas for cowboys wide-open
plains.

A campfire for warmth as we stop for the night, the stars overhead are
Christmas tree lights.
The wind sings a hymn as we bow down to pray, It’s Christmas for cowboys,
wide-open plains.

Tall in the saddle we spend Christmas Day, driving the cattle over
snow-covered plains.
All of the good gifts given today, ours is the sky and the wide open range.
It’s Christmas for cowboys, wide open plains.

May your Christmas be filled with good cheer, beautiful skies and wide open spaces.

So how do you plot a Mail Order Bride story?

Wanted: A single woman who is willing to walk away from the life she knows to travel across the country or even around the world and marry a stranger. She must be willing to bear his children and take care of their home, all while causing him to grow in his affection for her.
      The Mail Order Bride plotline is typically one in which a man living in a Western country, most commonly in the Western United States, marries a woman from a depressed or oppressed country or from the male-deprived East, sight unseen. Personal advertisements for matrimony served as the link between Mail Order Brides and the men who sent for them.
     In Hearts West: True Stories of Mail-Order Brides on the Frontier, author Chris Enss retells the stories of real women who responded to the ads of bachelors who had followed the call of land, gold, or the railway out West and found themselves in need of a wife. Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan is one of the most popular examples using the Mail Order Bride plotline in fiction. Papa lost his wife and placed an ad in the newspaper. Easterner Sarah Elizabeth Wheaton responded, setting her adventure in the West with the widower and his two children in motion. The classic tale began as a children’s novel and emerged as a popular Hallmark television movie.
     Yes, the Mail Order Bride plotline is most commonly seen in nonfiction recordings of history and in historical fiction, but don’t discount its usability for plotting a contemporary story. The 1993 movie, “Sleepless in Seattle,” offered a twist on the classic story template. A motherless boy desperate to help his father find a new wife called into a radio show and told his father’s story of loss and loneliness. Letters flooded his father’s mailbox opening the door to a compelling and heart-warming romance.
     My historical novel, Two Brides Too Many, had been in the marketplace less than a week when I received a note from a reader who said she loves Mail Order Bride stories, and that’s what drew her to my story about two sisters who placed ads in a Colorado newspaper. What pulls us as writers and readers toward such a scenario?
     Mail Order Brides represent a stalwart breed of women who exude courage, strength, and a sense of adventure. They are women seeking a new beginning, opportunities, and financial security.  
     You begin with a gutsy woman, young or old, who has a need to be married, but doesn’t have any promising prospects in her current circumstances. Connect her to a possible mate through a response to some sort of advertisement. Then have fun with “what if’s.”

     The fellow placing the ad or responding to an ad may end up being the one your heroine marries, but what if he isn’t? What if he isn’t who he purported to be? Or maybe it’s her who wears a façade. Why? And where does the misleading and misgivings take your characters?

In Two Brides Too Many, two of the Sinclair sisters from Portland, Maine arrive at the depot in Cripple Creek, Colorado expecting to meet their intendeds and neither of the men show up to greet them. One eventually marries the man with whom she’d corresponded, but her sister weds another man. What if it’s a third party who initiates the ad as did the son in “Sleepless in Seattle?”   
     Play with the clash of expectations and reality. And think up twists and turns at every intersection.
     Mona Hodgson is the author of Two Brides Too Many, her debut historical novel available exclusively at Walmart Stores until May 2010.         

  You can connect with Mona at

 www.monahodgson.com,

www.facebook.com/monahodgson, or

 www.twitter.com/monahodgson.
Click to Buy TWO BRIDES TOO MANY

 Margaret  Brownley

If you’re like me, you’ve probably had your full of Christmas cheer and gift wrappings about now, and are longing for a little bit of that “peace on earth” we keep hearing about.  

Still, no matter how hectic our lives might seem at the moment, nothing compares to  Christmas in the old west.  Instead of forging their way through crowded malls and reams of wrapping paper, early pioneers living in canvas homes, soddies and log cabins battled blizzards, bitter cold and driving winds. In 1849, Catherine Haun wrote in her diary that her family’s Christmas present was the rising of the Sacramento River that flooded the whole town.

Those of you planning to travel this holiday season might empathize with the passengers who spent the Christmas of 1870 on Kansas-Pacific trains stuck in snow.   Fortunately soldiers from a nearby fort provided fresh buffalo meat, which is a whole lot more than you get if you’re stuck at the airport.

We don’t generally associate fireworks with Christmas, but for some early settlers it was the only way to celebrate. In 1895, a riot broke out in Austin on Christmas Day when revelers shot off Roman candles. Animals stampeded, but law and order was soon restored.   Other parts of Texas didn’t have it so lucky.  The Fort Worth Gazette reported several incidences of people being shot and stabbed on Christmas Day over the use of Roman candles.  In some places, fire crackers were encouraged as this piece in a 1880s newspaper attests: “Firecrackers are in evidence creating the genuine Christmas atmosphere of gunpowder smoke.” 

While most pioneers decorated their Christmas trees with strung popcorn, berries and pictures from Arbuckle’s coffee, McCade Texas takes the prize for the most unusual ornaments.  On Christmas morning in 1883, three men were found hanging from a tree.  If that wasn’t festive enough, the shootout that followed provided “genuine atmosphere” a-plenty.  

What is Christmas without a feast?  Even the poorest of families managed to splurge a little.  Oysters were considered a luxury and one bride in Montana proudly served them to her guests on Christmas Day, unaware that the oysters had spoiled during transport. Her guests fared better than the man named Avery who, on Christmas day in 1850 set out to bag a deer for his dinner and was killed by Indians. 

Crime never takes a holiday and that was as true back then as it is now. On Christmas day in 1873, a group of Indians stole five army horses near the Concho River resulting in a shootout.  In 1877 Sam Bass robbed a Fort Worth stagecoach of $11.25, and in 1889 Butch Cassidy pulled his first bank holdup on Christmas Eve at a Telluride, Colorado bank.  That same year, Christmas day proved to be unlucky for a couple of cattle-rustling brothers who were tracked down and shot by the Texas Rangers. 

In the early days of the west, Christmas gifts were modest if not altogether non-existent.  Not so for Johnny Wesley Hardin who got an unexpected gift after he won a duel following a disputed card game.  The good citizens of Towash, Texas spread the word that he was the “fastest gun in the west,” which probably did wonders for his card game. He was also the meanest gun in the west, though he claimed he never killed anyone who didn’t need killing.

In case you were wondering, Christmas wasn’t all gunfire and fireworks. In 1881, Tombstone in Arizona Territory made news for having a “quiet” holiday.  Not to worry, they made up for it the following year.

Come to think of it, maybe those crowded malls aren’t so bad, after all, even without the “genuine Christmas atmosphere.” 

A Lady Like Sarah is available now.  He’s a preacher; she’s an outlaw.  Both are in need of a miracle.  Ride on over to my homestead and say howdy:

www.margaretbrownley.com

Hello Darlings,

Miss Mona Hodgson is the final guest for 2009.

The dear lady will arrive here Saturday to tell us about mail order brides. It’s a fascinating subject. Ah just wonder why there’s no mail order husbands? Hee-hee. If there were such a thing ah’d sure send off for one! Me and my feisty mule get awfully lonely.

But back to our guest….Miss Mona will give us a sneak peek inside her new book TWO BRIDES TOO MANY. It sounds like something to curl up with on a cold wintery day.

So shake your bustles and head over to the Junction on Saturday. Help us make Miss Mona welcome.

I  don’t know what it is about Christmas trees that I love, but I can’t get enough of them. The tree is the best part of Christmas decorating. To read a history of Christmas trees and see photos of my Victorian tree,

CLICK HERE for last year’s blog on the subject.

This year I’m simply going to take you on a stroll down memory lane. Well, we can’t remember back as far as these early photos, but we can sure imagine being there. That’s what we do after all: Put ourselves inn another place and sometimes another time and imagine what it would be like.

When I think about early trees, I think of stories like Laura Ingalls Wilder and the settlers who strung popcorn and berries and made paper chains to have something to out on the trees.

Some people had beautiful glass ornaments they brought to America from other countries, but the common folk usually made do with what they had around the house or what they could make with feathers and scraps of fabric and lace and flour and water paste.

It was once the custom to place the gifts on the tree, as seen in the photo on the right. Can’t see that being practical unless the gifts were mittens and handmade items. Today Guitar Hero would never fit on a tree, and the branches sure wouldn’t hold a portable DVD player.

I never had a fondness for tinsel. It was often charged with static and clung to clothes and hands and was forever on the carpet and tangled in the vacuum. But the kids loved it, so we often draped all the branches ever so carefully and watched it sparkle.

I inherited a few vintage cardboard and glitter houses that were my grandmother’s as well as a plastic Santa and sleigh. Plastic was a new invention when she bought the set! She had a whole village with bottle brush trees and cotton snow. I think I must have inherited my love of Christmas décor from her. I sure came by the collecting bug naturally too.

My grandmother had an aluminum tree with a color wheel. Can’t land one of those cheap any more. They are hard to find and expensive when you do find one.

So many times we think the things we use were recent inventions, but just look at the photo below with all the dolls and see one of the first artificial trees! And it’s lit with candles. What a fire hazard. There were also feather trees.

I’m holding my annual Great Christmas Tree Tour on my blog and have enjoyed all the trees readers and authors have shared. It’s always so much fun to see how differently people decorate.

Christmas trees are like snowflakes: No two are ever alike.

I want to take this opportunity to remind you that HER COLORADO MAN is in stores this month. I learned that the warehouses have plenty in stock, so if you don’t find a copy, ask for it at your local bookseller and they will order a copy for you.

I have my shopping finished and my Christmas tree is decorated. How about you?

As you all probably know by now, Filly Charlene Sands has decided to take a step back from regular blogging here at the Junction. She’ll still be doing our contests though, which tickles us to death.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, we twisted Miss Margaret Brownley’s arm and she has agreed to come on board.

Miss Margaret has written a passel of western romances–over twenty of them–so she knows her way around a hunky cowboy and his true love. Ah’m sure you’ll give her a real big Wildflower Junction welcome when she blogs for the first time on Friday, Dec. 18th.

Join the Fillies in showing Miss Margaret that we’re happy to have her in the corral.

Many of America’s present-day Christmas customs were in place by the mid 1800’s. Our trip to small New England towns lets me easily visualize sleighs full of carolers dashing through the snow singing their hearts out. But out West, the mountain man and lone cowboy had to make do all by their lonesome, in freezing weather and often a blizzard. Soldiers might gather together at the fort to roast venison and join in song. Farms and ranches were miles apart, so most caroling likely took place inside a cozy homestead with the family members. 

At our house, most of the caroling took place as lullabies when our kids were little. My son’s all-time favorite was The Twelve Days of Christmas. Each line, each verse, each refrain. He knew it all, so I couldn’t get away with skipping one single line. I was aware of the medieval images of the song itself, but I didn’t know until recently that the song has a sacred meaning. The odd gifts mentioned all have a “double life.” 

Although our local malls and radio stations are currently offering gimmicks each day for the “twelve days of Christmas” right now, prior to December 25, the twelve days traditionally start December 26, on St. Stephen’s Day, with celebration ending end on January 6, the feast if the Epiphany, or visit of the Magi. The custom began in England, starting with the lighting of the Yule log on Christmas Eve, which stayed burning until Twelfth Night, a time of great festivity. 

From 1558 to a Parliamentary decree in 1829, Roman Catholics in England were prohibited from public practices of their faith.

So the enoyable carol “The Twelve Days of Christmas” developed as a “catechism song” or teaching aid to help children learn the tenets of their faith. The song’s gifts are hidden meanings. First off, the “true love” isn’t an earthly suitor, but God Himself.

First Day: The partridge, known as a valiant bird willing to fight to the death to defend its young, represents Jesus, and the pear tree, the cross. 

Second Day: Two meanings here: Doves, required as sacrifice in Jewish Law and offered by Mary and Joseph when Jesus was 40 days old, symbolized either His later sacrifice…or the Old and New testaments. 

Third Day: The three French hens refer to the holy Trinity, to the three valuable gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh, brought by the wise man, and the virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity. 

Fourth Day: Four calling birds were reminders of the first four books of the New Testament, the four Gospels that proclaim Jesus’ life and teachings. 

Fifth Day: Five golden rings recall the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament, the Pentateuch. 

Sixth Day: Six geese a’laying symbolizes the six days of creation.  In many cultures, eggs stand for “new life.” It can also signify the six days of the working week, with Sunday reserved for worship. 

Seventh Day: The seven swimming swans stand both for the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit that help “ugly ducklings” grow into God’s children, or the seven sacraments. 

Eighth Day:  The eight maids a’milking show the nurturing of the Beatitudes written in Matthew 5. It can also refer to the eight people saved on Noah’s ark. 

Ninth Day: Nine ladies dancing represent the nine fruits of the Spirit mentioned in Galatians 5, love, joy, peace, patience kindness goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. 

Tenth Day: The ten lords a’leaping symbolize the Ten Commandments.   

Eleventh Day: The pipers piping signify the eleven faithful apostles. 

Twelfth Day: And last but not least, the twelve drummers marked the twelve points of belief in the Apostles Creed, and also represent the twelve tribes of Israel. 

Have you heard any of these double meanings before? I loved learning this and couldn’t resist passing it on. But even with the sacred theme today, I also can’t resist a re-write of this great song in Western terms. Wanna play? How about let’s start out with…a roadrunner in a piñon pine tree? Who wants to take on Day Two? (No symbolism required.) 

And to you and yours, best wishes for a blessed, safe, a meaningful Christmastide!

Ah put the names in a cowboy hat and shook ‘em up real good.

Durn it if one didn’t pop out!

The winner is………..Karen K.

Congratulations, Karen! Now, all you have left to do is choose which book you want and send Miz Phyliss your mailing particulars at phylissmiranda@aol.com  and she’ll  put the book on the next stage out.

Miz Phyliss thanks everyone for coming by to chat. She doesn’t know when she’s had a more enjoyable day.