I want to welcome my good friend Paisley Kirkpatrick to Wildflower Junction. Paisley is one of the first writers I met when starting on my quest for publication and has become a beloved friend and critique partner I’m thrilled to say her first western historical NIGHT ANGEL will be hitting bookstores this August, with many more to follow in her Paradise Pines western series. She’s graciously agreed to fill in for me today and tonight we will give away reader’s-choice of my e-books to one comment poster ~Stacey Kayne

My Mother gave me a great gift — five, three-inch binders full of the history of my family. Apparently I come from a group with a colorful past and have used some of their activities in my stories. She often spoke of the ranch at La Honda and I treasure some items that belonged to my grandfather while he lived there. When I first started blogging, I found this great story and love to share it with others.

The following accounting was obtained from Roscoe Wyatt, Oscar John and Walter Ray.  Oscar and Walter both remember the Younger brothers in person.  Wyatt was a conscientious historian.  Personal interviews included two of my family members:  Emma John Weeks and Percy Weeks.  Oscar John (87 at the time of the interview) worked on the Bandit Built Store.  He knew the Younger brothers from when they hid out on his La Honda ranch.  

Among the men hired to build John Sears’ store, referred to as the ‘Bandit-Built Store’ in 1877 were the Younger brothers from Forsyth, Kansas.   At that time no one in La Honda, CA, knew them as the Younger brothers, because they were posing as cousins to Oscar John and Walter Ray.  Jim Younger actually lived behind the Redwood City Court House for one year using the name of Joe Hardin.

Three Younger brothers and their sister

Cole, Jim, Bob and John Younger lived in Forsyth, Kansas on their father’s ranch in May, 1861, when the Civil War broke out.  Cole, the youngest son, joined the Confederate Army and became a colonel.  In November of that year, a short leave gave him a chance to visit his parents.  As he approached the ranch, he found the place engulfed in flames.  A band of Union troops and local Northern sympathizers reached the ranch before him and stole all of the stock before burning the grain, corn, and feed.  They also threw his youngest sister, who suffered from tuberculosis, out on the cold ground, causing her death.  When their father discovered what had happened and put up a fight, they hung him from a tree on the ranch.  This left their mother, oldest sister, Molly, and three younger brothers homeless.

Within hours Cole, along with a friend, organized local Southern sympathizers and within a few hours they started wiping out their enemies.  It’s reported that Cole alone killed one hundred men that he knew had something to do with his father’s and sister’s death.  By the end of the war, Cole had a price on his head for desertion, killing for revenge, and a long list of other charges.  He left his family in the care of his cousin, John Jarret’s parents.  He, John Jarret and a few friends left for California where they hoped to find sanctuary at his uncle’s ranch in San Jose, but ended up using a ranch in La Honda as their hideout.

Oscar John and his stepfather met the gang as they rode onto the ranch.  Oscar was ten years old at the time.  He recalls unsaddling ten horses.  Everyone but Cole Younger and John Jarret left the ranch.  They helped build the lakeside Ray ranch into a large two-story building.  Cole and John traveled back to Kansas in order to bring the rest of their family west.  They learned their mother had died and that Jim and Bob Younger had been accomplices to the James gang robberies.  Cole was convinced the Ray ranch was the best place for the remainder of his family until everything blew over.

They arrived back in La Honda August, 1876, when big changes were happening.   A new sawmill belonging to R.J. Weeks (my ancestor) opened and John Sears just started clearing an old bear pit site for his store and hotel.  At last luck was with the Younger family.  Oscar John talked John Sears into hiring his cousins from the east, no questions asked.  The three brothers and John Jarret went to work on the store.  Oscar John recalls seeing Cole shingling the roof of the store.  When the store was finished, the men returned to the Ray ranch to work the harvest.

John Jarret spent that season at the Ray ranch, one season in Redwood City and then went back east.  He returned the next year and started work on my family’s ranch.  While he was there, he married Molly Younger, thereby becoming Cole’s brother-in-law as well as cousin.

The James Brothers were planning to rob the Northfield Bank in Minnesota.  They couldn’t pull the job by themselves and no longer trusted their gang.  They sent a message to Cole by a man named Giles.  Since the Youngers knew Northfield, they expected them to participate in the robbery.  Frank and Jesse James sent a message stating that if the Youngers refused to come, they would have them exposed to the law.  Cole decided to participate to save his sister and brother-in-law.  He left a rare set of pearl handled pistols with Jarret at the Weeks Ranch.  He realized if he got caught with them, they’d be a dead giveaway as to his identity.

Cole Younger Gang

Cole had an agreement with Jesse James that this bank robbery would be their last appearance in the mid-west.  Jesse assured Cole that after this job, they would never have to worry about money again.   Unfortunately, the robbery went wrong.  During their escape Jim Younger was shot in the jaw.  Jesse wanted to kill Jim because it would hinder to their escape.  Cole absolutely refused.  So, while Jim lay bleeding in a wet creek bottom, the James brothers made a clean getaway.  The Younger brothers gave themselves up to the law to save Jim from bleeding to death.  Cole, Jim and Bob Younger were sentenced to serve terms in the Minnesota Penitentiary.

When John Jarret learned what had happened to his brothers-in-law, he happened to be working away from the Weeks ranch and only coming home on the weekends.   Giles showed up at the ranch with a forged note from Cole.  Molly wasn’t home so he gave the note to their housekeeper.  It was written to Molly and asked that she give Giles the two rare guns.  The note stated that Cole’s prison term was just about up and that he wanted to sell the guns so he could get a new start in life.  The housekeeper, remembering Giles from his first trip, thought he was on the level and handed over the guns.  Jarret, for some unknown reason, came home that night and found Giles there with the guns in his possession.  After he read the letter, he knew it was forged because Cole always wrote in of care of him, not Molly.  Giles confessed that he had a chance to sell the guns to an Illinois museum.

Jim Bartley, La Honda rancher and teamster, visited the Younger brothers at the Northfield, Minnesota Penitentiary.  He learned that an old sweetheart of Jim Younger visited him regularly.  She promised to marry him when he got out of prison.  Jim looked forward to that day, planning once more to start life anew.  However, the woman turned him down when he got out.  His heart was broken.  Having nothing to live for, he rented a room at a cheap boarding house and shot himself through the head.

Cole and Bob dropped into obscurity after serving their terms.

There was a lot of unjustified killing and bad deeds that happened during the Civil War. I know what the brothers did was not right, but maybe they thought it was the only way to get justice. I don’t know how I would have reacted if I’d come upon the slaughter of my family members. It was a rough time in our history. Do you think they overreacted or that maybe hunting down the killers was justified?

You might be a writer if……

You might be a writer if….You pick up a mastodon tooth and write a whole story in your head in 10 seconds.

You might be a writer if….you walk down a street in a historical village and imagine being pursued by killers and time traveling into the past.

You might be a writer if….a woman in a museum starts talking about laundry in the 1870s and you’re riveted.

You might be a writer if….you saw the end of the Sixth Sense coming.

You might be a writer if….your children’s baby books are covered with writing and have almost no pictures.

In Too Deep releases TODAY

You might be a writer if….you take a tour of Carlsbad Cavern and are mentally transported back in time to the first guy who ever saw the place. And thirty four years later, you still remember that moment of being transported so vividly you write a series of romance novels about it.

My one and only trip to Carlsbad Cavern was about 34 years ago. I didn’t write my first book for sixteen years. But when I did, I had a LOT of ideas, this was one of them. What would it have been like to be the first person to go into that cavern?

When we walked through Carlsbad there was a nice sturdy fence, roping off all the dangerous pits. There were lights everywhere and we could see the beauty and easily avoid the danger. But what if you’d gone in there with no idea what it was?

What if you’d seen bats fly up out of a hole in the ground and went to look for where they’d come from and found a deep, black hole? What if you were curious, as was Jim White, the first man on record as being in Carlsbad Cavern, and you got a long rope and lowered yourself down? There are bottomless pits…okay, they probably have a bottom eventually, but I suspect the bottom is way, way, way too far down to be anything but deadly.

It’s pitch black. There are beautiful things—stunningly beautiful stalactites and stalagmites. Water dripping, building those rock formations. You’d be drawn by the glimpses of beauty. Your only light is a lantern or a handmade torch or a candle. You’d be fascinated and, if you weren’t really careful, you’d be dead in no time.

When I walked through Carlsbad Cavern, long before I’d ever thought of writing a book, I was writing a book. And it stayed with me until finally it was time. I fictionalized the cavern because the true history of Carlsbad is so well known I couldn’t be faithful to it.

In Bookstores Now

Three little boys find a cavern on their remote Colorado ranch. Three boys close in age, all adventurous. All tough little guys without parents watching them very close. The brothers stick together. They imagined themselves as a team, three brothers against the world. And then disaster strikes. One of them is terribly hurt. Their parents can’t stand the strain of their boy’s devastating burns and his screaming nightmares that will not end.

Their family is torn apart.

Ethan blames himself and he can’t bear the pain of what he caused. He left home the minute he was old enough. Now he’s back after years of lonely wandering. And though he’s sworn to never go near that cavern again, he’s found that his life may depend on finding the courage to face that dark pit.

In Out of Control—Book One of The Kincaid Brides Series—I told Rafe’s story.

Coming in August

Now it’s time for Book Two, In Too Deep. Ethan Kincaid and Audra Gilliland. A marriage of convenience between two easy going people. They should have rubbed along happily together for years. Except unexpected passion surprises them both. And unexpected danger draws them both into that deadly, beautiful cave.

Coming in August is Seth’s story. Over the Edge, available for preorder now. The crazy man who turns out to have some crazy things in his past that are catching up to him.

To get your name in a drawing for a signed copy of In Too Deep, tell me the best vacation–or adventure–you’ve ever taken.

Or buy In Too Deep on Amazon

Find out more at :

http://www.maryconnealy.com

When I heard the name “Griswold” while watching Hell on Wheels, I was instantly intrigued. It’s a familiar word in our household due to Chevy Chase, aka the hapless Clark Griswold

Years ago, when I saw the pull-down attic stairs that ensnare him in Christmas Vacation, I yammered so much and so often about a similar set-up here at home that I finally wore Hubby down, and he put one in for me.

To make a long story short, our attic stairs AND the whole attic space now crammed with my stuff are now simply called “The Griswold” by all our family and friends.

 But in real life, the Griswold is a rare, valuable Civil War-era .36 caliber percussion revolver. Make that, War of Northern Aggression-era .36 caliber percussion revolver.

Here’s how it happened.

In 1835, Connecticut-born Samuel Griswold purchased land near Macon, Georgia and established a small township he named Griswoldville. Along with soap and candle manufacturing and employee housing, post office and church, he built a cotton gin factory.

New Orleans gun maker Arvin Gunnison relocated to Griswoldville after the Yankees took his home town. At the request of the Confederate Ordnance Department, he and Samuel Griswold teamed up to supply as many guns as possible to the army. Instead of cotton gins, Griswold’s factory began its stint as the manufacturer of guns remarkably similar to the Colt Navy 1851. At first blush, the Griswold was easily mistaken for the Colt. But the Colt was assembled with far superior materials and technology that were not available in the blockaded and far less industrialized South. (It is said that only 20,000 factories of any kind were located in the South compared to 120,000 in the north.)

The grips of the Griswold-Gunnison gun (love the alliteration!) were one piece of walnut. While the Colt’s frame and trigger guard was forged from case-hardened steel, the Griswold’s was solid brass, and not for beauty’s sake. The South simply didn’t have enough graded steel to use. Furthermore, the cylinders on most Griswold-Gunnison revolvers were cast from iron left in a bare metal state without any chemical treatment to prevent rust. So they rusted.

 In fact, many Griswolds had brass with a pinkish tinge. Copper had to be added to brass to make it go farther. When brass was not available, the Griswold, or “G & G” was made from iron or iron alloys.

Although not as top-notch as the Colt, the G and G’s were a decent-quality weapon, particularly when one realizes the shortage of materials and machinery to reproduce them. In their three-year history, about 3,600 of the revolvers were made. It is believed that the approximately two dozen black workers at the Griswoldville factory were not treated as slaves but received the same wage and treatment as other workers.

The Griswold was priced to sell for $40 in an era when $35-40 was a good monthly salary. In comparison, the Colt sold for about $14.

The G and G enterprise ended on November 22, 1864, under the smokin’ guns of General Tecumseh Sherman on his “March to the Sea.” The week prior, his troops had captured Atlanta and begun their slash-and-burn across the state of Georgia. In Griswoldville, the men of the Third Cavalry Division under Brigadier-General Judson Kilpatrick burned the gun factory and all other factories to the ground.

The rarity of the Griswold has the few remaining guns priced at auction well into the seven figures! (Now, if only I could find something of value in my own Griswold….)

For more Griswold info:

http://www.vincelewis.net/griswold.html

http://www.gunclassics.com/griswold.html

Click on my latest book cover to purchase:

Not being from Texas, I was hesitant to tackle this topic.  But I’ve always been a fan of  those tough, rangy cattle with their amazing horns, stretching as long as seven feet from tip to tip.  Longhorns are, and always will be, a symbol of the American West.

Their ancestry dates back to cattle brought to Mexico by the Spanish.  Some of these cattle went wild.  Over time they developed the resilience and survival skills that make Longhorns what they are today.  Early Texas settlers mixed the blood of these feral Mexican cattle with their own eastern cattle.  The result was a rugged, long-legged animal with spectacular horns and a coat that could be blue, yellow, brown, black, red or white, plain or speckled.   

But Longhorns are more than looks.  They have strong survival instincts and can find food and shelter in rough weather.  Longhorns can breed well into their teens or longer, and they’re known for easy calving.  A Longhorn cow will often go off on her own to have the calf in a safe place.  The calves can stand up sooner after birth than other breeds.

With their long legs and hard hoofs, Longhorns made ideal trail cattle.  After the civil war millions were driven to market.  They also stocked most of the new ranches on the Great Plains.    But times changed for the breed.  The “Big Die-up in the winter of 1886-87 and the spread of barbed wire fences brought an end to the open range.  Breeds like the white-faced Herefords put on weight faster and had fattier meat, providing needed tallow.  Ranchers crossed these breeds with Longhorns to produce hardier stock.  By the 1920s,  only a few small herds of Longhorns remained.

In 1927, Longhorns were saved from near extinction by the U.S. Forest service, who collected a small herd to breed in Oklahoma.  Other groups in Texas gathered small herds to keep in parks.  They were regarded as curiosities, but the stock’s longevity, disease resistance and low-fat, low-cholesterol meat revived the breed as beef stock—although many ranchers keep them purely as a link to Texas history.

Does anybody out there have experience with these amazing animals?  Any good stories?

There are no Longhorns in my March Western, THE LAWMAN’S VOW.  But you can get a sneak peek and an excerpt on my web site: http://www.elizabethlaneauthor.com. 

Watch for a giveaway next month.

I have a character in Out of Control, book #1 of my Kincaid Bride’s series, the youngest brother Seth, who spent time in Andersonville Prison during the Civil War.

So I’m just researching Andersonville to find for sure where it was and when it opened and closed. No sense having poor old Seth stuck in a prison that had been closed down for two years before he got captured, right? And this is all backstory. This is NOT important. We’re talking maybe two or three sentences in the whole book. But little details like this, for writers, become maddening and fascinating. All I needed was the where and when. I could’ve gotten that in two minutes on Wikipedia. So did I give it two minutes and get back to my manuscript?

No-o-o-o-o-o-o!

I ended up reading and reading and reading. It was horrible and engrossing. A real time sink for me, and yet I couldn’t tear myself away. I tell people that I hate research, but the REASON I hate it is because I get sucked in it, drawn deeper, lured down side trails, moving farther and farther from what I originally was hunting for. Such was Andersonville. And today I’m not even going to write about the prison, which could be ten posts on its own. The starvation, the brutality, awful.

No, what I found was a group called Mosby’s Raiders. I think I’d heard this term before. Mosby’s Raiders. But I didn’t connect it to Andersonville. If anything I’d have put the group in a category with Quantrill’s Raiders in Kansas who wreaked havoc after the war. Further research reveals a video game called Mosby’s Raiders and a singing group, so that’s maybe why I’ve heard of it.

Mosby's Headstone

Mosby’s Raiders was a group within the walls of Andersonville. They were thieves who attacked the other prisoners. Since everyone was starving it might be understandable that people would become savages in their fight for survival, but Mosby, who’s name was William “Mosby” Collins of the 144th New York was a thug.

He led a group of up to 700 men armed with clubs, slingshots, brass knuckles and homemade knives. And he wasn’t just surviving, he was getting rich.

But this STILL isn’t what I want to talk about today. Within Andersonville a group of men emerged who called themselves the Regulators, and they are the focus of today’s post. The Regulators were given police-like power by the head of Andersonville. They led a force of men who rounded up over 200 of these raiders and brought them to trial.

On July 11, 1864, six of the leading raiders were hanged, ending their control of the prison. So, six men are hanged, what of the other 194? And those are the ones they caught? There were rumors of up to 700 Raiders, remember?

After the executions the regulators, led by Key (this is the only name I could find for the leader of the regulators), knowing how many men were left that were loyal to the raiders, were in constant danger of assassination if they remained inside. The head of Andersonville found a way to protect them. He got them assigned as nurses and ward-masters in the hospital, which separated them from the general populations.

The accounts I read of the hanging were riveting. The prisoners loathed the men who were hanged. But it was also Yankee soldiers hanging other Yankee soldiers while the Confederate guards looked on. So much conflicting emotion was involved.

So this was my inspiration for my next book series. These Regulators. And remember this is all well after the war is over. But what if?………(Authors always use What If?) What if these men remained friends after the war? This would be a huge bond between them. These would be righteous men, men who would do what is right even when it was terribly hard. They would be used to having each other’s backs. They would trust each other completely.

http://www.maryconnealy.com

What is it about very good girls falling for very bad men? Does the man have some redeeming quality she can see right off?

In my “Lawmen and Outlaws” Christmas Anthology novella, Christmas for Ransom, available both in print and e-book, schoolmarm Eliza Willows  falls in love with an outlaw when the handsome stranger hires her to teach him to read. Of course she’s unaware he’s the bad guy who thieved her granny’s prized Morgan horses smack dab during Thanksgiving dinner. Even when Eliza finds out his true identity, her heart has already been stolen…and Canyon Jack Ransom’s grown a conscience. He vows to become respectable and does all the right things to stay in her heart.

Today I’ll be giving away a signed copy (U.S.A.) or an e-copy (international) after drawing a name from today’s commenters.

Well, today let’s look at a real life good girl who fell for a bad guy. Schoolteacher Anna Ralston, daughter of a wealthy Independence MO businessman, held a Bachelor of Arts degree in Science and Literature from Missouri State College. Truth is, she was one of its first female graduates.

“Annie” is the woman who snared Alexander Franklin James, aka Frank James, and eloped with him in July 1875.  When she pretended to visit her brother-in-law in Kansas City, Frank waited for her on the train, the elopement already arranged.

No one ever knew how or when the couple met. But it is known Frank wasn’t only a rough and tumble baddie. As a youth, he’d devoured the books in his father’s library and even as an outlaw, quoted Shakespeare at will. His father, a farmer and Baptist minister, co-founded the William Jewell College in Liberty, Missouri. So maybe it’s not all that surprising that Frank chose an educator who loved literature. And with him described by the Kansas City Times as a “notable knight of the road” and “dashing and daring,” perhaps it’s not surprising Annie fell for him.

Two days after her departure for Kansas City, her parents received a brief note from her that said, “Dear Mother: I am married and going West. Annie Reynolds”

Not recognizing the name Reynolds, they figured she’d run off with a gambler they’d heard about. Putting their sons on her trail, her parents eventually learned of Annie’s marriage to the outlaw. Her father advised the family to treat the matter philosophically. Nothing could be done now, he said, and the less said about it the better.

Annie and Frank had one son, Robert Franklin James, born February 6, 1878. Four years later, after brother Jesse’s murder, Frank gave himself up, wanting peace after being hunted for twenty-one years.

Found not guilty for two robberies/murders (the juries cited lack of evidence), Frank became respectable for the last thirty years of his life. He gave lecture tours with his old crony Cole Younger and worked for the telegraph before returning to the James Farm in Kearney, Missouri to give tours. He died an honorable man on February 18, 1915. Fearing his grave would be desecrated for souvenirs, he decreed his ashes would be kept hidden until he and Annie could be buried together.

Annie remained with her mother in law at the James farm for many years, After her death at age 91, she and Frank were buried next to each other at Hill Park Cemetery in Independence.

(Excerpt from Chapter Two,  Christmas for Ransom:

Pinching herself, Eliza lost interest in everything except seeing what the stranger looked like in the lantern light. Brawny stalwart men were nothing new in a railroad town or on the ranch, but she never minded a good view.

Her breath caught so hard her sore rib tweaked. He was magnificent. The big-brimmed hat and flowing duster reckoned him a wrangler of some sort coming in from the range. Although he needed a bath and truly looked the worse for wear, she didn’t mind one single bit. The scruffy cheeks, the long rag-taggle coat, even the scent of masculine sweat were far more her style than the slick-haired dandies and overdressed fops she’d met at Boston cotillions.

“This here’s Ransom,” the blacksmith said helpfully.

As the stranger moved closer, he removed his hat and tucked it under his arm with a polite half-nod. For a long luscious moment, eyes the color of manly liquor covered her with a mouth-watering gaze. Golden-brown hair touched the mountains of his shoulders like sunlight at dawn across the Guadalupe Mountains.

Air left her lungs. A slow burn started at the top of her spine, her flesh desperate for the days’ worth of roughness adorning cheekbones carved like crags and valleys. She had to hold her hand still to keep her fingers from caressing the deep etches of his face.

Eliza couldn’t move as she stared up at him, aching and eager.

Now, for a Christmas story about a real GOOD man, my latest release, Right to Bragg, is a short, sweet holiday read.

While on vacation recently, my husband and I spent a morning visiting the Arizona Cowboy Shooters Association in action. Every second Saturday, enthusiasts of period weapons, dedicated to preserving and promoting the sport of Cowboy Action Shooting gather together to talk history, weapons and shooting.

The Single Action Shooting Society–SASS–is for folks who “…share a common interest in preserving the history of the Old West and competitive shooting.”  [SASS website, www.sassnet.com.] There are clubs all in all fifty states, andCanada,New Zealand, Europe,Australia andSouth Africa, too.

Personally, spending a Saturday or two a month enjoying the sport of shooting sounds like a lot of fun. And every club member we met agreed. The day consists of target shooting with revolvers, a shotgun, and a lever-action rifle.

“Cowboy Action Shooting is a multi-faceted shooting sport in which contestants compete with firearms typical of those used in the taming of the Old West: single action revolvers, pistol caliber lever action rifles, and old time shotguns.” [www.sassnet.com]

Every member of the ACSA carried reproduction or original period firearms. There were Colt Peacemakers,Winchester1873s, Model No. 3 “Russians” (pictured to the left), Model 1873 repeating rifles, 1866 “Yellow Boys”… You name it, someone was probably carrying it.

We saw 1897 pump-action and 1887 lever-action shotguns–that one “Terminator” fans would recognize–and lots of double-barreled or side-by-side Coach guns.

There were stations set up on the range, with different targets, arrangements and distances. At one station, participants emptied both revolvers at steel gunslinger- shaped targets, or “steels,” then switched to their rifles and pinged off nine shots at five dinner-plate sized targets from 10 yards away. At the next station, the targets were 25 yards away. And at another, knocking down one “steel” tossed a clay target into the air. Bonus points were awarded for shattering it. There’s also a long-range rifle competition, but we didn’t get up early enough to observe that.

Another fun aspect of the sport is that every participant got to be someone else for a day. “One of the unique aspects of SASS approved Cowboy Action Shooting™ is the requirement placed on costuming. Each participant is required to adopt a shooting alias appropriate to a character or profession of the late 19th century, a Hollywoodwestern star, or an appropriate character from fiction. Their costume is then developed accordingly. Many event participants gain more enjoyment from the costuming aspect of our sport than from the shooting competition, itself. Regardless of a SASS member’s individual area of interest, SASS events provide regular opportunities for fellowship and fun with like-minded folks and families.” [www.sassnet.com]

For sheer fun while shooting, you’d be hard pressed to beat Cowboy Action Shooting. Unless it was mounted cowboy action shooting–but that’s for another post.

From a distance, you might think one cowboy looks pretty much like another, but on closer inspection, you’ll find that though their gear contains the same staples, a cowboy finds a way to make his equipment truly his own. From the type of horse he rides, to the tool work on his saddle, to the way he shapes the brim of his hat–a western man can tell you a lot about himself without ever opening his mouth.

One prime example of this is how the man wears his gun. In the 19th century, it was unheard of for a man to ride the range without a weapon within easy reach. Dangers abounded. Wild animals. Snakes.  Not to mention the trouble that originated on two legs from rustlers or Indian raiding parties. Some carried rifles in a scabbard attached to the saddle, but after the advent of the Colt Single Action Army revolver or Peacemaker in 1873, most cowboys carried a sidearm either instead of a rifle or in addition to it. It was always at hand, even if one’s horse was not.

But how a man chose to wear his Colt, well . . . that was a matter of style and expediency. The leather holster could be plain or decorated, usually natural or brown-colored leather, though sometimes black. Some men stamped their initials or their ranch’s brand into the leather. Holsters in the 1870s were open at the top and had a belt loop on the backside which slid over the cartridge belt. By the 1880s,  holsters tended to be made from a single piece of leather with a back that looped over the belt and provided slots to secure the front. The holster at the top of this post shows this later style with a double loop holster.

Gun belts usually ranged from 3-4 inches wide, and the number of catridge loops on them depended on the caliber of the revolver as well as the length of the belt. Most carried between 40-50 loops. Since ammunition came in boxes of 50, one box could generally fill the belt and the revolver, leaving one chamber empty for safety purposes.

Look at the two men pictured below. Both wear their guns on the right hip. However one man is left-handed. Notice the butt of the pistols. The man in black is wearing his in the usual fashion, with the handle pointing backward. In contrast, note how the man in white shirt sleeves has his handle pointing forward. This is called the “cross draw” position. While most preferred drawing their weapon from the same hip as the dominant hand, some found it easier to reach across their body to draw their weapon, hence the outward facing handle. In fact, if you look carefully at the picture above with the four cowboys together, you’ll notice the third man from the left wears his pistol in the cross draw position.

Despite what we see in the movies, a working cowboy rarely if ever wore more than one gun. If he did wear two, usually the second was simply to have on hand to save the time of reloading as a man would not be nearly as proficient a shooter with his non-dominant hand. And those holsters that tied down to a man’s thigh? Well, those were usually reserved for professional gunmen whether on the right or wrong side of the law. The tie served to anchor the holster so that no slip of the leather would impede a fast draw.

So do any of you have antique holsters or gun belts in your family treasure chest? The wearing of sidearms waned after the end of the 19th century. As populations grew, towns passed ordinances against carrying weapons. But some die hard cowboys never gave up on packing their Colt when riding the range.

Though, THE COWBOY’S PRIDE is a contemporary story, I thought we’d go back in time and see how babies were cared for in the 1800’s.  (AND trust me — you’ll be glad you had your babies in the modern world) but I did find some commonalties where parenting has come full circle.

THE CARE AND FEEDING

Affluent new mamas of the mid to late 19th century often used “wet nurses” to feed their babies.  In Europe and in the Victorian era, women rarely stayed at home and relied on servants, mammies and caregivers to breastfeed their children.  This practice was done much earlier in America though.  In the south and as early as the 1700’s, slaves spent a great deal of time raising children from wealthy families and that included nursing them.  If for some reason breastfeeding couldn’t be practiced, then the baby was given PAP, which is a combination of bread, water and sugar. When the child was old enough to eat solid foods, regular food cooked for the family was mashed up and spoon fed to the babies.   In 1867 a London scientist developed the first baby food. Baron Justus von Liebig introduced Soluble Food for Babies and it was available in America by 1869. 

The little tykes did not have it easy.  There were no modern conveniences and probably the worst of it was diaper-changing. 

MESSY ONES

In rural areas often babies were “toilet-trained” as early as possible.  But often times, this meant simply holding the baby over a chamber pot and allowing him to do his deed.  For the first few years of the baby’s life, they either went around bare-bottomed or wearing a skirt for this very reason.   If I was the mother, I’d say the sooner the better with the toilet training.  Ugh.   Poor babies – their little bottoms were never lotioned, oiled or pampered.  If they developed skin problems, they would be treated with a mixture of herbs.  Later on in the 1800’s if a baby wore a diaper, it was recommended that diapers be washed and not just hung out by the fire to dry as per prior practices.   Oh…a lovely thought!   Babies bottoms were simply wiped clean with a dry cloth and powdered with absorbent wood dust.  Then they were either re-diapered or left to run around naked for a while.  Baths were infrequent at best and it took doctors until the early 20th century to start recommending using soap and water to clean the baby’s bottom.  A “novel” idea.   The diaper “safety pin” was invented in 1849, which I think must have made life a little bit easier. 

COMING FULL CIRCLE

Though these practices seem uncivil and rough, many of our current baby care techniques have reverted to more natural techniques used centuries ago.   For instance, as nice as they might make the baby smell, the use of oils and lotions are not considered necessary in today’s world.   Too many babies develop skin rashes and sensitivities from the chemicals contained in those products.   So it’s okay not to butter up a baby’s bottom, but if you must, it’s now recommended that an all natural product be used on their skin.  Thankfully, we are in the “green” era and these all-natural, fragrance-free and chemical-free products are easily found on the store shelves.  It’s important to read the labels. 

Another practice that’s coming full circle is the use of fresh foods and baby grinders to mash up baby’s meal.  Often time, new parents like to know exactly what ingredients are in the food they serve to baby and they spend a great deal of time buying and preparing fresh healthy food for their children.  Something as simple as chicken stew, a little chicken, some fresh carrots and potatoes can make a hearty delicious meal for the baby.  No Cajun spices, please!!  Or you’ll find yourself holding that baby over the modern day chamber pot!

IF YOU LOVE BABIES

I hope you remember my new release coming to Eharlequin this November and all other outlets and bookstores in December. (It is available now for Pre-Order)   Little Meggie is a cutey-pie in a story of second-chances and heartfelt emotions.  Clayton Worth has a connection to this baby, but it’s not what you think. (And that’s all I’m saying!)  And there will be more about my Baby Connection coming soon!

In the meantime, my Kindle and Nook release, Smooth-Talking the Hometown Girl is available now for $.99! 

DRAWING

I’ll be offering a copy of my May release, Carrying the Rancher’s Heir or any one of my backlist books today, if you stop by with a comment about your parenting or babysitting days. 

What was the best and worst thing about caring for a baby?

For every famous or well-known person in the Old West you can find a hundred who were just as tough and resilient but who never got their name in the history books.

Idella Stephens Smyer was one such woman. I recently ran across her when I was reading about some of our local history.

Idella was born in 1871. Raised by her grandfather who reared her as a boy, she rode horses when she had to be strapped in the saddle. She took to horses like a duck to water and started breaking and training them. Sometimes she rode as a jockey in races.

She didn’t care much for schooling and only went a couple of months a year in the fall after they’d gotten the crops in.

At the age of 15 she married Henry Smyer in Decatur, TX in 1885. She and Henry moved to her 80 acre farm. Her grandfather gave her one heifer as a wedding present. That was the start of their herd. Each year they sold the steers but kept all the heifers.

The first of their 14 children, a daughter named Gertrude, came down with malaria. Idella took her everywhere to try to find a cure. Nothing seemed to work until Idella’s brother, Blue Stephens, came to visit. He worked for the huge XIT Ranch in the Panhandle. He persuaded Idella and Henry that the dry climate would cure Gertrude. So they packed up and headed west.

But passing through Jacksboro, Texas, Henry got a job hauling rock for a new hotel. He and Idella bought a tent and lived there three years. That’s where their second daughter whom Idella named John Willie came into the world. How fitting for a woman who lived life so large to saddle her daughter with a man’s name. I laugh every time I read this part and imagine a man asking John Willie to marry him.

Idella’s idea of raising children was to make them as tough as she could and able to take care of themselves in any situation.

By the time she finished with them, they rode wild horses like the wind, hunted wildcats, wolves, and antelopes. They camped out alone on the prairie and they feared nothing.

Neither did Idella. When her third baby was born she was all by herself. Like everything else in her life, she tackled the task and did what she had to do.

The Smyers made it to the Panhandle in 1892. They settled into an abandoned one room house here in Crosby County and took possession. With wood a scarcity, Idella gathered up an armful of cow chips and had a roaring fire going and within an hour was baking biscuits. (I didn’t know this but cow patties burn hotter than wood.)

Their cattle herd got bigger along with the size of their family. To make extra money, Henry took a job as a freighter. That left the ranch up to Idella to keep going. But she tackled it like everything else in her life-without batting an eyelash.

One day a raging wildfire threatened their house and herd of cattle. Idella gathered all the children who were old enough, gave them a bucket of water, and sent them out to help battle the blaze. They saved the house and only lost a few cattle. Another time when a blizzard swept across the prairie and caused her cattle to drift, Idella put her children into bed to stay warm and gave them strict instructions not to light a fire. Then she headed out to round up the cattle by herself. When she couldn’t get them to stay together so she could herd them into the corral, she managed to get them into a field of maize she was growing. Although the Smyers had meant to take the crop to market, it fed the cows and kept them together. Idella worked for hours in the frigid cold hauling warm water from the well to them. She knew cattle that had a full stomach and their thirst quenched would be content. She was right. She lost not one cow whereas her neighbor lost 250 of his herd. And when she finally dragged herself home to thaw out, she found her children up and dressed and a wonderful meal cooked.

(By the time their children married and left and the town of Lorenzo sprang up in their pasture, Idella and Henry sold off 1,000 head of cattle that all began with one lonely heifer.)

There were always horses to be broken and trained on the Smyers’ farm. In true Idella fashion, she let each child select a horse of their own. The only stipulation was that they break it themselves. And they always did.

Idella had both physical and mental strength. She could brand, rope, and bulldog. She could tail up a weak cow or dose a sick one. She could do anything with a horse and horses had a special place in her heart.

The woman who coupled a merry laugh and a great sense of humor always used her own brand of language-decent but strong. But there was a steely glint in her eye that promised she could hold her own against anyone.

Idella Stephens Smyer died on October 27, 1953 at the age of 83. (She outlived Henry by 14 years.) She had no complaints. She’d lived a full life and had done everything she ever wanted.

Do you have anyone in your family tree that bears a resemblance to Idella?

My mother comes to mind. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I’ve seen her roof a house; fix a car; wipe away tears; kill a chicken, pluck, and cook it; pick and hoe cotton and rear five children while she did it. There was nothing my mother couldn’t do. She was my hero and my friend.

It’s not too late to order from Amazon. Just click on the cover.

www.LindaBroday.com