Archive for the Wild West Research category.
Good Morning!
Going along with a similar message from my last post, I thought we might continue on in the same vein as we did a couple of weeks ago -- survival. With droughts in the south and midwest, flooding in our farmlands and northern states and with grain elevators gradually reduced to only about 3 months of food supply, it takes only a little foresight to see that we may be in for a long haul in the near future. To that end, I thought we might revisit some survival tactics. I'll be giving away, by the way, a book on survival tactics (well sort of survival tactics) -- LONG ARROW'S PRIDE to some lucky blogger. So be sure to come in and leave a message. (Note, this offer applies to the greater 50 States and to Canada only.)
In the old days, the Indians lived off the land and rarely starved. It wasn’t until reservation days that starvation became a real threat. Before that time, the Indians knew what plants to look for and where to look, what animals to kill, how to kill them for food, how to jerky the meat and how to survive and live off the land. In truth, before the last World War, most Americas were living on farms and so the Depression (I never call it the Great Depression, as I think of Great things as good things) — but the collaspe of the economy during the Depression – bad as it was, wasn’t as bad as it might be in our future because most people still lived on farms back then and knew how to grow their own food. So, as I used to learn in the Girl Scouts, let me ask you this. How prepared are you for a collapse if it were to come upon us?
Heaven forbid it ever happen. But as my mother used to say, “You prepare for the worst and enjoy those things you stored when it doesn’t happen.” So let’s go over a few things that might come in handy to have, just in case, okay?
1) Food — do you have a minimum of a 1 year supply for all members of your family on hand. These are storeable items like grains, dried fruits, canned organic veggies, nuts, baking soda, fish-liver oil, baking powder, and anything else that you can thing of to store — meat, etc. Get them for long storage — again that’s minimum 1 year supply for every member of your family and any member of your family that in a catastrophe might come home. : )
2) Medical supplies. You can’t have enough medical supplies. Bandages, bandaids, aspirin, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and any other medicine that you need. For me, because I don’t take drugs, this means a year’s supply minimum of vitamins and minerals, as well as any herbs needed for medical emergencies. And remember this is a 1 year supply for every member of your family — and those who might join you later on.
3) Seeds — organic seeds, if you please. The reason for heirloom, organic seeds is that the new Monsanto seeds and even the more common hybrid seeds don’t produce seeds for replanting — and keeping seeds from year to year is vital. Even is you live in the city, you can start a garden of some kind. My husband and I live in the city and instead of growing a lawn, we are now growing a garden. We are learning also that one needs to LEARN how to garden and how to keep out pests. So far squirrels and rabbits are benefitting from our new garden. : )
4)
An herb garden is pretty essential. From an herb garden you can obtain many medicinal plants — like Echinacea and Goldenseal, as well as Oregano, sage and other herbs. And again, even if you live on the city, you can probably start a garden on the roof or on a window seal. You might even be able to make friends with local farmers who might be able to help you through a tough time, but I would advise you to plant as much as you can for yourself and for your family.
5) Protection.
Now, while it might be fun to have these two men riding protection for you, probably it is a good idea to have a rifle or a gun of some kind as a form of self and family protection as well as protection of your food stores. Personally, I think our Founding Fathers were right in guaranteeing the natural God-given right to bear arms. Every creature will try to defend itself against any who seek to kill it. For people, this means guns and other means to protect yourself. After all, criminals and vandals are criminals and vandals because they can't obey the law -- therefore, they will always find a way to get guns. My huband and I belong to Frontsight, a shooting organization that teaches you not only self-protection and makes sure that you know how to place a good shot, but teaches you when to make that shot and when not to. But not only is protection important in emergencies — to protect the lives of your family and yourself — guns are important in keeping pests like rabbits and squirrels away from your garden — guns can also bring in fresh game in case of a food shortage. If you don’t like guns and will absolutely not have one in your household, then I would advise you to learn self-defense — hand-to-hand — and to learn to use a bow and arrow for hunting.
Okay, let’s see. What have I left out? There’s something that’s important that I’m not thinking of here.
Oh, yes, a subject that is dear to the pocketbook:
6) Some sort of cash. Now what do I mean by cash? Some say silver or gold with lead to protect that silver or gold. : ) Some say to invest in the Euro — just in case the dollar falls. I will say right here and right now that this is not an area that I know much about. And if there is some kind of castastrophe — heaven forbid — or martial law — double heaven forbid — what might people use as money? Barter? Gold? Silver? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that you might want to have something on hand to barter with.
Well, now that’s all I can think of right now. You might be able to think of other things that one might to do be prepared. In the old days — the days of my grandparents, all families had either a full year’s supply of food on hand and/or a victory garden. When I was growing up, almost all of my neighbors had gardens of one kind or another — chicken coops, etc.
How about you? Can you think of something I’ve forgotten here in order to be prepared for any sort of economical or other kind of emergency? Do you remember the victory gardens? Families with supplies of food on hand, just in case? Or were you a Girl Scout and taught to always be prepared?
I’m not wishing for this — I hope a cause for this never happens — but just in case…
And don’t forget, I'll be giving away a free copy of LONE ARROW'S PRIDE to some lucky blogger. This applies, by the way to the great 50 States and Canada only.
So come on in and let’s talk about survival.
Published at July 22nd, 2011 in category
guns 
A Gunfighter's Rules to Live By
-
Bring a gun. Two is even better
-
Stand with the sun at your back
-
Shoot first and don’t miss
-
There's no such thing as fair play
-
In a gunfight take your time in a hurry
-
If you're not shooting you better be loading
Okay, I admit it; where guns are concerned I’m a chicken. So when my son announced he signed me up for a shooting class I didn’t exactly jump with joy. “Come on, Ma,” he beseeched when I balked. “I told them you write westerns and they agreed to bring their Old West collection.”
Well, shoot!
The first challenge was finding the place. It’s hidden somewhere in a canyon in the San Fernando Valley at the end of a very long dirt road. Upon my arrival I was introduced to Bodie aka Willy Clark. Dressed in authentic cowboy gear he looked like a character right out of a Louis L’Amour book. He didn’t just know weapons he knew the west. Bodie likes to put history in context. “Hollywood did us no favor,” he explained. “While cowboys were shooting up Tombstone, Bell was talking on the telephone.”
Bodie and I discussed a tricky scene I’m working on and he gave me some terrific ideas. The other workshop attendees—all men by the way—got in the act. I wonder what they’d say if they knew they were helping plot a romance novel?
Bodie ran down the safety rules and taught us how to load a weapon with black gunpowder cartridges. What you need to know about gunpowder is that is smells like sulphur and makes a lot of smoke.
Contrary to popular belief poor shooting was the norm in the Old West and it’s easy to see that gunpowder smoke was partly to blame. A gun battle between cowboys and Indians would have created quite a smokescreen. Some lawmen fared no better in shooting skills than did your average cowpoke. A self-generated reputation--the deadlier the better-- saved many a lawman from dying in the street. No one was better at exaggerating than Bill Hickok, who described an ambush of three farmers as a shoot-out with nine desperados.
Few gunslingers carried a notched weapon, probably because they didn't want to embarrass themselves. Of course, this didn't keep Bat Masterson from running a successful business selling "genuine" notched guns during his retirement.
The Real Gun that Won the West
Hint, hint, it was not the Peacemaker. Cody insists it was the 12-gauge double-barrel shotgun (also called a scattergun). The double barrel means it has two triggers. The shotgun was the most prevalent weapon in the U.S. and every rancher, farmer, wagon train emigrant and cavalryman had one. The shotgun was easy to use and the perfect weapon for everything from shooting game to fighting off Indians.
The scattering effect of buckshot had its good and bad side. Buckshot spreads eight inches for every twenty-five feet. In layman’s terms that means that unless you are close to your target you’ll probably miss. But it was precisely this spreading effect that made it the weapon of choice for lawmen wishing to control unruly crowds.
A Kick like a Mule
The first time I pulled a shotgun trigger I near fell over backward. That kick would make any mule proud. The hands you see behind me belong to my son, ready to catch me on my second round. I learned the hard way to hold the butt against my shoulder—hard!
After “mastering” the shotgun I moved on to the Colt Peacemaker. The Colt was popular with lawmen and outlaws alike. Loading a Colt was more involved than loading a shotgun. To keep a round from discharging a loaded chamber by accident you load only "five beans in the wheel" by loading one, missing one and loading the rest. If you’re heading for a gunfight be sure to load all six beans. If by chance you’re chased by outlaws while on your horse, hold your gun and reins in your left hand and load with your right.
The thing you need to know about the peacemaker is that the barrel tends to move upward after you fire. That's why Bat Masterson said to aim for the belt buckle and hit 'em in the chest. Bat was credited with shooting thirty-one men though in reality he shot only one. This proves that shooting at belt buckles isn't as easy as you might think.
I came away from my lesson without any notches on my belt, but taking a cue from my fisherman husband I can now talk about the target that got away.
How about you? Any notches on your belt? The best story--true or false--wins a book!
A Vision of Lucy (A Rocky Creek Romance)
Before I get started with my post, I just wanted to share how excited I am to be the newest filly in the corral here at the Junction! I've been an active follower for several years, and I know how talented and fun this group of ladies is. I couldn't be more pleased to find myself in their company on a regular basis.
Now, back to the livery . . . take a close look at the picture below. Can you guess what's missing?
Women. You'll find nary a one. That's because the livery stable was a man's domain. Females flocked to dry good stores, dress shops, milliners, and drug emporiums but avoided the masculine hub known as the livery. Why? Mostly because of the smell. And the likelihood of stepping in something no lady would want clinging to the sole of her shoe or staining the hem of her skirt.
For a man, however, this was the western version of an English gentleman's club. A masculine sanctuary, a place to pass the time discussing crops or swapping stories by the potbellied stove. So what if the air was a bit gamey? A little manure never hurt anyone. The only nags were out back in the corral, and they didn't seem to mind if a fella was of a mind to spit his tobacco juice on the floor or wipe his nose on his sleeve.
But the livery was more than a gathering place for men who wanted to escape their womenfolk for a time. It was a place of business. The liveryman kept prime horseflesh on hand for harness or riding, maintained a respectable selection of carriages and wagons for rent, pitched hay, tallied accounts, and even dealt with colicky critters when the need arose. Travelers stopped by to board their mounts or rent a saddle horse for the day. Young swains coughed up hard-earned coin to impress their gals with romantic country drives in a rented rig. The livery supplied an essential service to the townsfolk.
As I researched livery stables for my debut novel, I came across a fabulous find in one of our local library's genealogical collections—a transcribed log book from a livery in Bonham, Texas dating back to 1885. Not only did I learn what prices were charged, I also gained insight into the types of services offered. Here is a sampling:
- Horse rental per day - $0.50
- Horse and buggy rental - $1.00
- Carriage and team - $2.00
- Carriage and driver - $4.00
- Buggy to depot - $1.00
- Horse to pasture - $0.50
- Feed - $0.25
- Bucket of oats - $0.50
- Stall rental - $1.50
- Stall plus hay - $2.50
- One month board on horse - $10.00
- Currying horse - $0.10
- Saddling horse - $0.25
- Repairs on carriage - $0.50 to $1.50 or higher depending on extent of repair needed
- Fee for lost horse blanket - $0.75 for regular blanket, $2.00 for double blanket
In addition to accepting cash for payment, this log book also chronicled a variety of barter offerings. Customers were known to pay in corn or cords of wood. One fellow who had accrued a rather large debt paid with a big black sow.
If a man had no goods to offer, he might pay in services like hauling hay in from area farms, working the nightshift at the stable, working as a carriage driver, or painting the livery.
Yet as the 19th century faded into the 20th, and the horse no longer held sway as the primary mode of transportation, what happened to all these livery stables? Did they simply fade away into the yore of yesteryear? Some may have. But many enterprising livery owners adapted successfully to the times and converted their stables and wagon yards into garages for the newfangled horseless carriages that dominated the streets.
So the next time you take you car to the shop, try to picture the mechanic with a handlebar mustache, hat, and boots. Who knows, maybe one of his great-great-grandfathers owned your town livery.
The Loretto Chapel
and The Miraculous Staircase
The Loretto Chapel in Sante Fe, New Mexico was commissioned by Archbishop Jean-Baptiste Lamy
and designed by French architect Antoine Mouly with the help of his son, Projectus,
who were said to have modeled it on the historic Sainte-Chapelle in Paris.
Since the elder Mouly was infirm and going blind at this time,
actual construction of the chapel fell to Mouly’s son Projectus, who did a fine construction job until he himself died.
It is here that the so-called "legend of the miraculous staircase" begins.
When Projectus died, the chapel construction went on until it was discovered that no way had been included in the building plans to access the choir loft.
There was no space for a staircase in the small church.
Legend says that to find a solution to the problem, the Sisters of the Chapel made a novena to St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters.
A novena is a prayer repeated on nine successive days, asking to obtain special graces.
On the ninth and final day of prayer, a man appeared at the Chapel with a donkey and a toolbox looking for work.
He told the nuns he would build them a staircase but that he needed total privacy and locked himself in the chapel for three months.
He used a small number of primitive tools including a square, a saw and some warm water
and constructed a spiral staircase entirely of non-native wood.
The Miraculous Staircase ascends twenty feet,
making two complete revolutions up to the choir loft without the use of nails or apparent center support.
It has been surmised that the central spiral of the staircase is narrow enough to serve as a central beam—
and the physics of this are most likely true but this was an incredibly difficult construction method for the times.
There was no attachment unto any wall or pole in the original stairway,
although in 1887 -- 10 years after it was built -- a railing was added and the outer spiral was fastened to an adjacent pillar.
Then, on the day the mysterious carpenter finished, before he could be paid, he walked into the dessert and was never heard from again.
His identity unknown.
The legend grew that the builder was St. Joseph, the carpenter father of Jesus.
The staircase has 33 steps, the age in years of Jesus when he was crucified.
The miraculous staircase still stands today and the Loretto Chapel is visited by tourists and used for weddings and other special events to this day.
Click on the cover of Deep Trouble to buy on Amazon
http://www.maryconnealy.com/
It was a simple device –nothing more than small sharp-cut loops of metal strung between twisted strands of wire. And yet, apart from the telegraph and the railroad, no invention played a bigger role in changing the landscape of the American West. Indian tribes, who detested it, called it the devil’s rope. Most folks called it by its common name – barbed wire.
Before 1870, America’s Great Plains were sparsely settled with little concern for boundaries. After the Civil War, things changed. Ranchers moving out onto the plains needed to fence their property against encroaching settlers. The railroads needed to keep livestock off their tracks, and farmers needed to keep stray cattle from trampling their crops. Wood and stone fences were expensive and impractical over long distances. Thorny hedges took time to grow and didn’t do well under the dry conditions of the west. Fencing with plain wire strung between posts had been tried, but cattle could simply lean against the fences and push them over.
The first U.S. patent for barbed wire was issued in 1867 to Lucien B. Smith, who is regarded as the inventor. Joseph F. Glidden received a patent for the modern invention in 1874. The photo shows a length of Glidden’s original hand-made wire. He called his invention “The Winner” because it beat out competition from other inventors for the patent.
By the late 1870’s many companies were making and successfully selling the new wire. Barbed wire fences required nothing more than wire, fence posts, and devices such as staples to hold the wire in place. They were simple to build and fast to erect. Large areas of land could be fenced in a relatively short time. And the painful barbs kept animals from pushing on the fences.
Not everyone was happy about barbed wire. While slow moving animals like cattle and sheep were rarely harmed by the fences, a horse racing into the sharp wire could be cruelly injured. Native American tribes hated the wire because it interfered with their hunting and migrations. But nobody hated barbed wire more than the stock growers who depended on open range for their vast herds. One major source of conflict was the “Big Die Up” incident in the 1880’s. Cattle tended to migrate south in the winter, away from the northern blizzards. In the terrible winter of 1885 thousands of animals died because they couldn’t find a way around the fences. Later other cattlemen, especially in Texas, began cutting fences to allow cattle to pass through. Conflict erupted, with vigilantes joining in, causing chaos and death. The fence cutting wars ended with the passage of laws that made cutting fences a felony. Finally, barbed wire put an end to one of the most dramatic periods in American history – the great cattle drives of the late 1800’s.
I have my own memories of barbed wire. As a child growing up in a small farming community, I was snagged, jabbed, scratched and caught more times than I can remember, sneaking through fences to play. Do you have any barbed wire memories?
Who doesn’t love it when a town or a family is revisited in a sequel? It’s like seeing old friends again or coming home for a stay. It’s always fun to set up a character in a previous book, and then give them their own story. Readers who enjoyed
The Preacher’s Wife and asked about a sequel will be happy to know Elisabeth Hart’s story has finally been told in
Marrying the Preacher’s Daughter.
Elisabeth’s family moved west to Colorado from back east, and along the way her mother was drowned. Elisabeth had issues getting used to the idea that her father snapped himself up a new wife in Nebraska before they ever reached their destination. But before the end of that story, Josie and Elisabeth came to an understanding , and are close friends when this book begins.
Elisabeth wants a man just like her father. Someone wise and upstanding, a man who lives by God’s Word and is an example to the community. She has high ideals and lofty expectations.
Enter Gabe Taggart, bounty hunter. Now Elisabeth doesn’t know he’s a bounty hunter when she meets him. He’s keeping that under his cowboy hat. But she does know he’s dangerous, because he’s lying shot in their family home after a gunfight—a gunfight she instigated—but she won’t admit to that. Her father is perturbed with her and insists it’s her job to take care of the man, since she got him shot up in the first place, so like the obedient daughter she is, she’s waiting on the irritating man hand and foot. Her charity and good will are soon spread pretty thin however.
Gabe only cares about keeping his secret and creating a home for the sister he placed in a boarding school. She has graduated and wants to come set up house with her big brother. Irene arrives sooner than expected, and she sure isn’t the quiet, studious little girl he remembers. She’s a full-blown suffragette, with contacts in important circles. Between his outrageous sister and his feisty caregiver, his future is not living up to his peaceful expectations. Worse yet—the two become fast friends. What’s a man to do?
This story is filled with gunfire, kisses, and a few good laughs. But it’s also a poignant look into healing for the grieving process and an example of how God responds to faith. I hope you will find a copy and let me know what you think.
I’m giving away autographed copies to TWO PEOPLE who click through to my trailer on YouTube, LIKE it and
leave a comment here to tell me they did so. The traffic should generate interest for the book.
CLICK HERE FOR TRAILER ON YOUTUBE
Thank you for visiting today!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
READ CHAPTER ONE
Marrying the Preacher's Daughter
by Cheryl St.John
Colorado June, 1876
"Toss your guns down now!" a male voice shouted. "Hands in the air."
Elisabeth Hart couldn't see past the layers of netting on a woman's hat in front of her, but sounds of alarm rippled through the passengers who sat in the forward rows. The interior of the railcar was sweltering beneath the midday sun, and she blotted her eyes and forehead with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. What should have been a routine stop along the tracks to take on water had become life-threatening.
Thuds sounded as firearms hit the aisle. A man in a battered hat and wearing a faded bandanna over the lower half of his face came into view. Eyes darting from person to person, he snatched up the guns.
Another masked bandit appeared in the wake of the first. Sweat drenched the front of his dusty shirt. "Turn over all your cash and jewelry. Ladies' bags, too, and none of you gets shot."
Two more thieves held open gunnysacks and gathered the looted items.
Fear prickled at Elisabeth, but a maelstrom of rebellious anger made her tremble. How dreadful of these men to point guns and make demands. Every fiber of her being objected to their lack of concern for the safety of the passengers and the downright thievery.
She turned to the tall, quiet man who'd been sitting beside her on the aisle side of the bench seat since they'd left Morning Creek, noting the way his hat brim shaded piercing green eyes. He watched the gunman with intense concentration, but made no move to stop what was happening. "Aren't you going to do something?" she whispered.
The man cast her a glare that would have scorched a lesser woman. One eyebrow rose and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
"They're going to rob us," she insisted. "You still have your gun. I saw it inside your jacket when you leaned to lower the window earlier."
He focused on the man wielding the revolver, but spoke to her. "Can you count, lady? Just give 'em what they want so nobody gets hurt."
"But—"
Pausing beside them, the masked robber pointed his gun directly at her seat partner's chest. The man gave Elisabeth a pointed glare and calmly raised his hands in the air before looking up.
"Right in here," the robber said.
The seated man handed him a coin purse and tossed several silver dollars and his pocket watch into the bag.
The barrel of the gun swung to Elisabeth. "Lady?"
Elisabeth's temper and sensibilities flared, but fear kept her silent. Her heart beat so frantically, she thought her chest might burst. She wanted to refuse, but didn't want anyone to get hurt. Begrudgingly, she forfeited her black velvet chatelaine pocket with the silver handle and removed the gold bracelet she'd received for her last birthday, dropping both into the burlap sack.
The robber pointed at her neck. "You got a chain under there."
She clapped her hand protectively over the plain gold ring that rested on a chain beneath her damp and wrinkled cotton shirtwaist. "This was my mother's!"
"Just give it to him," the green-eyed stranger cajoled in his maddeningly calm manner.
"Now just wait," Elisabeth argued with a glare. "You don't understand. This was my mother's wedding ring."
The stranger gave her a quelling look that singed her eyelashes. Passengers called out their displeasure and shouted for her to give up her jewelry same as they had.
The ring was all she had of her mother. Since she'd drowned, Elisabeth had worn it every day…and tried to fill the woman's shoes. The wedding band symbolized Elisabeth's childhood and her sacrifices. Parting with it would break her heart…but she didn't want to be the cause of anyone getting shot. What would her father have to say in this situation?
She closed her eyes. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. Her true treasures were in heaven. The ring wasn't as important as the lives at stake.
The robber leaned down close as if he meant to take the ring from her neck. She raised her hand to her throat to prevent him from touching her. She could do this on her own. He grabbed Elisabeth's collar and yanked so hard that she jerked forward and the top button popped off.
In that same second, a grim click sounded. The bandit paused dead still.
Elisabeth stared into his shining dark eyes, and the moment stretched into infinity. She could hear her blood pulsing through her veins, her breath panting from between her dry lips. Was this the day she was going to die and meet her Maker?
"Take your hands off the lady, or you're dead." From beside her, the stranger's low-timbered voice was calm, but laced with lethal intent. The hair on Elisabeth's neck stood up.
No one else was privy to the robber's predicament. The green-eyed man's gun was still concealed between the two men, the business end jammed up against the robber's belly. Elisabeth dared a glance and saw the stranger's other hand clamped over the man's wrist, keeping that revolver pointed toward the floor and protectively away from her.
What could only have been seconds, but seemed like an hour, passed with their ragged breaths loud and the tick of a pocket watch encroaching on her consciousness.
"We ain't got all day, Hank!" one of the other thieves shouted.
The robber leaning over her attempted to move, and pandemonium broke loose. A shot rang out and Elisabeth's rescuer grunted in pain. The robber tugged at Elisabeth's collar, and the man beside her fired his gun.
The stench of gunpowder stung her nose. Men shouted. Women screamed. Elisabeth watched the events unfold in a haze of fear and disbelief.
The man who'd threatened Elisabeth crumpled, slumping sideways over the back of a seat. A horrifying crimson blotch spread across his shirtfront. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out.
The stranger leaped from his seat with his arm outstretched. "Get down!" he bellowed. A rapid succession of shots nearly deafened her. She cupped her hands over her ears, belatedly realizing he'd been ordering her to get down. Praying for safety for the other passengers, she folded herself onto the floor and knelt with her heart pounding. The shock of seeing that man shot and bleeding stole her breath.
Minutes passed with her thoughts in chaos. Would she see her family again? If the stranger protecting her had been shot, maybe other people were being killed or injured, and all because she'd delayed. She'd been going to give him the ring.
An eerie silence followed in the wake of the previous pandemonium, and it took a few minutes to comprehend what that could mean.
The sound of hesitant footsteps and voices told her the battle was over. She opened eyes she hadn't realized were squeezed shut, unfolded her body and peered over the seat in front of her.
One of the male passengers had picked up the gunny-sacks and now doled possessions back to their owners. In numb silence, she accepted her monogrammed velvet pocket and gold bracelet from his outstretched hand while her mind struggled to comprehend what was going on around her. A conductor and several other railroad men stepped over prone bodies on the floor. The sight made her stomach lurch. Elisabeth could only stare in numb disbelief.
One of the uniformed men made his way to the stranger who was seated on a bench with his back against the side of the railcar, his hand pressed to his ribs. "Find something for bandages!"
Spurred out of her frozen state of shock, Elisabeth straightened and stepped into the aisle. She raised her hem and, holding it in her teeth, tore a wide strip from her petticoat. "Here."
Others provided handkerchiefs and scarves, and the conductor handed over the wad of material for the fellow to press against the wound. "Sit tight," he said. "We'll get you to the doctor in Jackson Springs quick as we can."
Several men dragged the robbers' bodies to the back of the car, the dead men's boot heels painting shiny streaks of blood on the wooden floor. Her stomach roiled and she thought she might be sick.
"Are you all right?"
She swung her gaze to those green eyes, now dark with pain. "Y-yes, I'm fine."
Had he killed all of those men? He made a halfhearted attempt to sit a little straighter, but grimaced and stayed where he was.
He'd probably saved her life. Without a doubt he'd saved her from losing her precious ring. She perched on the edge of the seat beside his leg, and reached to replace his hand with hers, pressing the cloth against his cream-colored shirt, where it was soaked with blood that flowed from his side. "I'm Elisabeth Hart."
"Gabe Taggart," he replied.
"That was a very brave thing you did."
His expression slid into a scowl. "Didn't have much choice after the stupid thing you did."
Taken aback, she was at a loss for words. Before that horrible man had reached for her, she'd been prepared to hand over the ring. Now she felt foolish for ever hesitating.
Steam hissed and the train jerked into motion, picking up speed along the tracks. The stranger winced at the jerking movement. The woman who'd been sitting behind them made her way along the aisle in the rocking car. "Thank you for rescuing us," she said to Gabe.
Casting a disapproving scowl at Elisabeth, she returned to her seat. Elisabeth glanced at a few of the other occupants of the railcar and noted an assortment of scathing looks directed toward her. None of them understood the value she placed on the ring or the reason for her delay. She hadn't meant to endanger anyone.
Silently, she prayed for his life, asking God to forgive her for putting him at risk because of her selfish attachment to an earthly treasure. Out of habit, she reached into the jacket pocket of her traveling suit and rubbed a smooth flat stone between her fingers. The keepsake was one of several she'd picked up during her family's perilous journey to Colorado. The stones reminded her of the sacrifice and dedication that had brought them to a new state and a new life.
The train rocked and turned a bend. Several other passengers expressed their thanks to Gabe as the train neared its destination. When at last they reached Jackson Springs, the tale spread to the baggage men and the families waiting on the platform. Several men carefully loaded Gabe Taggart into the bed of a wagon and drove him away.
Grateful this particular chapter of her life was over and that Taggart would be getting medical attention now, Elisabeth released a pent-up breath and joined the others disembarking.
"Thank the Lord, you're safe."
Elisabeth turned with relief and embraced her stepmother, their bodies separated by the girth of Josie's growing belly beneath her pretty green day dress.
"What happened to that man?" her six-year-old half brother Phillip asked. He had shiny black hair like their father's and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
"He prevented robbers from stealing our things," Elisabeth answered, trying to keep panic and guilt from her voice.
"Lis-bet, Lis-bet!" Peter and John, the three-year-old twins, jumped up and down waiting for her to greet them.
She picked up Peter first, kissing his cheek and ruffling his curly reddish hair. After setting him down, she reached for John. He kissed her cheek, leaving a suspiciously peppermint stickiness on her skin.
Josie turned and motioned forward a slender dark-haired young woman that Elisabeth had assumed was waiting for another passenger. "This is Kalli Tyler. She's my new helper. Your father thought I needed someone full-time, and I didn't argue. She's a godsend, truly. You two are going to get along well."
"I've heard all about you," Kalli said with a friendly dimpled smile. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She kept her voice steady, but her in-sides quivered in the aftermath of that drama. She collected herself to study the other young woman.
As her father's assistant, the notary public and a tutor, Elisabeth did have her hands full. It was wise of Father and Josie to hire additional help. At seventeen and sixteen, her sisters, Abigail and Anna, were busy with school, studies and social activities, and their bustling household did need extra assistance to keep things running smoothly.
"I brought a wagon and Gilbert," Josie told her. "You had bags, and I'm not up to the walk."
"Of course," Elisabeth answered. "Phillip, help me find my bags, please."
She turned toward the pile where luggage was being stacked just as two men carried one of the robbers from the train on a stretcher. He'd been shot in the chest and his vest was drenched with dark glistening blood. The man was quite plainly dead.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you're blog hopping today, I'm at Seekerville http://seekerville.blogspot.com/ and
I'm the Spotlight Author at Love Western Romances this month! http://www.lovewesternromances.com/
A Bowie knife is a style of fixed-blade knife first popularized by Colonel James "Jim" Bowie in the early 19th Century.
Much like the owner with whom this blade is synonymous, the “Bowie” knife is shrouded in myths, legends and questionable facts. Even the experts are still arguing over what is truth and what is legend.
Let’s start with what the experts know: A blacksmith named James Black from Washington, Arkansas, was well-known for his guardless “coffin” knife, meaning the handle is shaped like a coffin and there is no guard to keep the wielders hand from slipping onto the blade.
From here, the truth gets a little murky.
One version of the creation of the famous knife is that Rezin Bowie commissioned the knife from blacksmith Jesse Cleft of Avoyelles Parrish, Louisiana.
Another has Jim’s brother, John, claiming the knife was made by a blacksmith named Snowden.
The favored version of the story is that Jim Bowie went to Black in 1830 with a wooden mock-up of the knife he wanted. Black made that knife and another one with several improvements. When Bowie returned for his knife, Black offered him his choice. Bowie took the improved model.
“It was said that a Bowie had to be sharp enough to use as a razor, heavy enough to use as a hatchet, long enough to use as a sword and broad enough to use as a paddle.”
The historical Bowie knife had a blade of at least 6 inches in length, some reaching 12 inches or more, with a relatively broad blade that was an inch and a half to two inches wide. Bowie knives often had an upper guard that bent forward at an angle (called an S-guard) intended to catch an opponent's blade or provide protection to the owner's hand.
The moniker “Bowie Knife” seems to have grown from the account of an attempted murder of Bowie. In Mississippi in 1827, in what became known as the “Sandbar Duel,” Jim Bowie was attacked by three men on the orders of a local sheriff that Bowie had vocally refused to back for re-election. Bowie, using the knife, survived; his attackers did not. Yes, I know this happened before Bowie bought the knife from Black. But keep in mind the historical “Bowie knife” was not a single design, but was a series of knives improved several times by Jim Bowie over the years.
James Black became famous on his own merits; he was and is considered one of the best blade-makers of that time period. Black's knives were copied by cutlers in Sheffield, England, and sold in America as the "Ar
kansas Toothpick."
“The term Arkansas toothpick became synonymous with “bowie knife” for most of the population [of the United States]. Sheffield cutlers thought the addition of this term in particular added value to the knives they made to sell in the United States...”
http://www.historicarkansas.org/collections/knives.aspx?id=54
Black's knives were known to be exceedingly tough, yet flexible, and his technique has not been duplicated. Black kept his technique secret and did all of his work behind a leather curtain. Many claim that Black rediscovered the secret of producing true Damascus steel. [An interesting process, but I’m going to let you research that one on your own. If you want to see some beautiful knives, go to
http://www.mountainhollow.net/bowieknives2.htm]
The Bowie knife became the most famous blade in the states, perhaps in the world, following The Alamo. But, as is the way of most things, by the end of the Civil War, the knife gave way to the bayonet, rifle and revolvers for self-defense.
Hollywood launched something of a revival of the knife’s popularity when, in the 1950s, Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie were featured in books and movies.
Here’s some of the links I discovered, if you want to learn more:
http://www.historicarkansas.org/knife_gallery/
http://www.historicarkansas.org/collections/knives.aspx?id=153
http://www.historicarkansas.org/jamesblackrevisited/
I thought it’d be fun to look at some of the rules that a traveler would have to abide by when riding on a stagecoach in the old west. I’ve planned on writing a blog about this for a while, but knew I had to do research ... which ended up easier than I thought.
Finding a ton of resources, to my surprise, I discovered all of it referred back to one main piece of information put out by the famous stagecoach line,
Wells Fargo. I’m not correcting terminology, including misspellings and punctuation, in order to preserve history.
WELLS FARGO RULES FOR RIDING THE STAGECOACH
Adherence to the Following Rules Will Insure a Pleasant Trip for All
- Abstinence from liquor is requested, but if you must drink, share the bottle. To do otherwise makes you appear selfish and unneighborly.
- If ladies are present, gentlemen are urged to forego smoking cigars and pipes as the odor of same is repugnant to the Gentle Sex. Chewing tobacco is permitted, but spit WITH the wind, not against it.
- Gentlemen must refrain from the use of rough language in the presence of ladies and children.
- Buffalo robes are provided for your comfort during cold weather. Hogging robes will not be tolerated and the offender will be made to ride with the driver.
- Don't snore loudly while sleeping or use your fellow passenger's shoulder for a pillow; he or she may not understand and friction may result.
- Firearms may be kept on your person for use in emergencies. Do not fire them for pleasure or shoot at wild animals as the sound riles the horses.
- In the event of runaway horses, remain calm. Leaping from the coach in panic will leave you injured, at the mercy of the elements, hostile Indians and hungry wolves.
- Forbidden topics of discussion are stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings.
- Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It's a long walk back. A word to the wise is sufficient.
My second surprise was to learn that the main piece of research I use the most on stagecoach etiquette can be attributed to the Omaha Herald 1877, so I’d love to share that with you, too.
- The best seat inside a stagecoach is the one next to the driver. You will have to ride with back to the horses, which with some people produces an illness not unlike seasickness, but in a long journey this will wear off, and you will get more rest with less than half the bumps and jars than on any other seat.. [When anyone] who traveled thousands of miles on coaches offers, through sympathy, to exchange his back or middle seat with you, don't do it.
- Bathe your feet before starting in cold weather and wear loose overshoes and gloves two or three sizes too large.
- When the driver asks you to get off and walk, do it without grumbling. He will not request it unless absolutely necessary.
- If a team runs away, sit still and take your chances; if you jump, nine times out of ten you will be hurt.
- In very cold weather abstain entirely from liquor while on the road; a man will freeze twice as quick while under its influence.
- Don't growl at food at stations; stage companies generally provide the best they can get.
- Don't keep the stage waiting; many a virtuous man has lost his character by so doing.
- Don't smoke a strong pipe inside especially early in the morning; spit on the leeward side of the coach.
- If you have anything to take in a bottle, pass it around; a man who drinks by himself in such a case is lost to all human feeling.
- Provide stimulants before starting; ranch whiskey is not always nectar.
- Be sure and take two heavy blankets with you; you will need them.
- Don't swear, nor lop over onto your neighbor when sleeping.
- Don't ask how far it is to the next station until you get there.
- Take small change to pay expenses.
- Never attempt to fire a gun or pistol while on the road; it may frighten the team and the careless handling and cocking of the weapon makes nervous people nervous.
- Don't discuss politics or religion, nor point out places on the road where horrible murders have been committed, if delicate women are among the passengers.
- Don't linger too long at the pewter washbasin at the station.
- Don't grease your hair before starting or dust will stick there in sufficient quantities to make a respectable "tater" patch.
- Tie a silk handkerchief around your neck to keep out dust and prevent sunburns..
- Don't imagine for a moment you are going on a picnic; expect annoyance, discomfort and some hardships.
What are some of your favorite rules? I really like: “If you have anything to take in a bottle, pass it around; a man who drinks by himself in such a case is lost to all human feeling.” So, tell me yours.
Fellow Filly, Linda Broday and I visited Fort Concho in San Angelo, Texas, over this last weekend. Here are some of the Buffalo Soldiers with a Wells Fargo Stagecoach!
Being born and raised in Texas, there’s just so much I take for granted, so I thought I’d share with you all a few Texisums and some laws that you might be interested to know about when you do come to the bigger than life state of Texas.
“You all” is both singular and plural.
“Y’all come back, you hear.” A Texan isn’t particularly expecting an answer and we’re inviting you or you and all of your friends back. Thus it can be singular or plural.
“All you all” is definitely plural. It means each and every one of you, while “you all’s” can be singular possessive or plural possessive. But “all you all’s” is definitely plural possessive.
Mosey: Means both “to move quickly” and “to move slowly”. A 2,000 pound Brahma bull moseys pretty dern slow, while a cowboy moseying toward a honky tonk for a cold beer would mosey rather quickly.
Fixin’ is an interesting word, not unlike “you all”. It can be a verb, adverb or a noun, depending on how it’s being used. Here’s a quote from the dictionary. “Regional Note: “Fixin’ to” ranks with y’all as one of the best known markers of Southern dialect, although it seems to be making its way into the informal speech and writing of non-Southerners.” Here in Texas you’ll hear us say something like, “I’m fixin’ to leave for the grocery store to get the fixin’s to fix dinner with.”
A couple of things only a true Texan would know. The difference between a hissie fit and a conniption fit and the general direction of cattywumpus.
Here are a few Texas laws that are still on the books.
Temple: Cattle thieves may be hanged on the spot. No one may ride a horse and buggy through the town square, but they can ride their horse in the saloon.
Austin: Wire cutters cannot be carried in your pocket.
San Antonio: It is illegal for both sexes to flirt or respond to flirtation using the eyes and/or hands. It is also illegal to urinate on the Alamo.
Texarkana: Owners of horses may not ride them at night without tail lights.
It is illegal to shoot a buffalo from the second story of a hotel.
It’s illegal to milk another’s cow.
In Kingsville, there is a law against two pigs having sex on the city’s airport property. Why just the city’s airport property? Don’t ask me!
Up here in the Panhandle it’s against the law to throw confetti, rubber balls, feather dusters, whips or quirts and explosive firecrackers of any kind. Also, it’s illegal to dust any public building with a feather duster.
Lubbock: It is illegal to drive within an arm’s length of alcohol, including alcohol in someone else’s blood stream. This is where “Don’t Mess With Texas” comes in loud and clear!
In El Paso, churches, hotels, halls of assembly, stores, markets, banking rooms, railroad depots, and saloons are required to provide spittoons “of a kind and number to efficiently contain expectorations into them.”
In other parts of Texas you can’t land an airplane on the beach, throw trash from an airplane, or inhale fumes from model glue, not to mention you must obtain permission from the director of parks and recreation before getting drunk in any city park.
Texas is a common law state, so you can be legally married by publicly introducing a person as your husband or wife three times. So my advice to you, be careful what you say when you have your snoot full in a Texas honky tonk.
Port Arthur: Obnoxious odors may not be emitted while in an elevator.
Some of these laws have been changed or strengthened, especially involving drinking and driving, while some like having wire cutters in your pocket or shooting buffalo from a second floor window of a hotel remains in full force and effect. So every time I look at the new Marriott being built, I wonder if they’ll add that law to the notice they put on the inside of your hotel room? I might just have to call them and find out.
But the best law of all: A cowman cannot tuck his pants into one boot unless he owns ten or more head of cattle. I have no idea what the purpose of this law might have been. Do you?
Are there any old laws that are unique to your part of the country that you’d like to share with us today?
Since I’m on a mission to complete a manuscript this month, before I head out on an actual vacation, my writing time is stretched a little thin. So I’m going to open
my blog up to you today.
If you could go anywhere on a research vacation--or on any vacation--where would you go? No limits, no budget. Anywhere.
I have a bucket list of sorts, place I really want to go, and, while Australia, New Zealand and Fiji are all on there, it isn’t a list of exotic locales. I’ve been to Russia, back when it was still the Soviet Union; and to England, France, Austria, Germany, Canada, Mexico, Honduras, Grand Cayman, St. Thomas, The British Virgin Islands… Can you tell my dh and I love to travel?
The places on my list right now are mostly research trips I’d like to take in order to give life to some of the story ideas that are floating around in the gray matter of my min
d. For instance:
> The Buffalo Bill Historical Center & Cody Firearms Museum, Cody, Wyoming
> The National Rifle Association’s National Firearms Museum, Fairfax, Virginia
> The eastern-most spot in Newfoundland, Canada [that's it, in the picture on the left]
> Maine - the whole state
> Bainbridge Island, Washington - or maybe Neah Bay, since it’s the westernmost point in Washington State
> Alaska
> Idaho
I could keep going, but you get the idea. How about you?
I’ll give away one copy each of
Touch of Texas and
Touched by Love--all you have to do is leave a comment.
Happy Dreaming!
In the old days, the Indians lived off the land and rarely starved. It wasn’t until reservation days that starvation became a real threat. Before that time, the Indians knew what plants to look for and where to look, what animals to kill, how to kill them for food, how to jerky the meat and how to survive and live off the land. In truth, before the last World War, most Americas were living on farms and so the Depression (I never call it the Great Depression, as I think of Great things as good things) — but the collaspe of the economy during the Depression – bad as it was, wasn’t as bad as it might be in our future because most people still lived on farms back then and knew how to grow their own food. So, as I used to learn in the Girl Scouts, let me ask you this. How prepared are you for a collapse if it were to come upon us?
Heaven forbid it ever happen. But as my mother used to say, “You prepare for the worst and enjoy those things you stored when it doesn’t happen.” So let’s go over a few things that might come in handy to have, just in case, okay?
1) Food — do you have a minimum of a 1 year supply for all members of your family on hand. These are storeable items like grains, dried fruits, canned organic veggies, nuts, baking soda, fish-liver oil, baking powder, and anything else that you can thing of to store — meat, etc. Get them for long storage — again that’s minimum 1 year supply for every member of your family and any member of your family that in a catastrophe might come home. : )
2) Medical supplies. You can’t have enough medical supplies. Bandages, bandaids, aspirin, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and any other medicine that you need. For me, because I don’t take drugs, this means a year’s supply minimum of vitamins and minerals, as well as any herbs needed for medical emergencies. And remember this is a 1 year supply for every member of your family — and those who might join you later on.
3) Seeds — organic seeds, if you please. The reason for heirloom, organic seeds is that the new Monsanto seeds and even the more common hybrid seeds don’t produce seeds for replanting — and keeping seeds from year to year is vital. Even is you live in the city, you can start a garden of some kind. My husband and I live in the city and instead of growing a lawn, we are now growing a garden. We are learning also that one needs to LEARN how to garden and how to keep out pests. So far squirrels and rabbits are benefitting from our new garden. : )
4) 
An herb garden is pretty essential. From an herb garden you can obtain many medicinal plants — like Echinacea and Goldenseal, as well as Oregano, sage and other herbs. And again, even if you live on the city, you can probably start a garden on the roof or on a window seal. You might even be able to make friends with local farmers who might be able to help you through a tough time, but I would advise you to plant as much as you can for yourself and for your family.
5) Protection.
Now, while it might be fun to have these two men riding protection for you, probably it is a good idea to have a rifle or a gun of some kind as a form of self and family protection as well as protection of your food stores. Personally, I think our Founding Fathers were right in guaranteeing the natural God-given right to bear arms. Every creature will try to defend itself against any who seek to kill it. For people, this means guns and other means to protect yourself. After all, criminals and vandals are criminals and vandals because they can't obey the law -- therefore, they will always find a way to get guns. My huband and I belong to Frontsight, a shooting organization that teaches you not only self-protection and makes sure that you know how to place a good shot, but teaches you when to make that shot and when not to. But not only is protection important in emergencies — to protect the lives of your family and yourself — guns are important in keeping pests like rabbits and squirrels away from your garden — guns can also bring in fresh game in case of a food shortage. If you don’t like guns and will absolutely not have one in your household, then I would advise you to learn self-defense — hand-to-hand — and to learn to use a bow and arrow for hunting.
Okay, let’s see. What have I left out? There’s something that’s important that I’m not thinking of here.
Oh, yes, a subject that is dear to the pocketbook:
