Winchester (U.S.) Model 1866 Lever Action Rifle (repeater/ breech-loading/ black powder/ cartridge ammunition)

Last time we discussed the Winchester 1873 Repeating Rifle. Today, I want to introduce the precursor to that rifle – the Winchester 1866 Repeating Rifle, aka The Yellow Boy.

The Yellow Boy got its name because of the shiny brass frame. The design improvements over the original Henry repeating rifle ensured the Yellow Boy’s success. In 1866, Nelson King, an engineer with Winchester Repeating Arms, patented a spring load gate for ease of loading cartridges into the side of a spring-fed, closed-end tube attached under the barrel. The tube held fifteen bullets. Add the one in the chamber and you could pull the trigger sixteen times before reloading.

The 1866 Yellowboy lever-action rifle was a marked improvement over the Henry rifle. It was the first true cowboy lever-action rifle, and the first rifle widely carried in a cowboy-style saddle scabbard.

Both the “Henry and Winchester Model 1866 “Yellow Boy” rifles found a ready market on the western frontier. The Indians referred to these arms as “many shots,” and “spirit gun,” which showed a measure of awe and respect for the products of the New Haven-based company. Many warriors were able to obtain these arms for themselves, and more than twenty of them were used against George A. Custer’s 7th Cavalry and their single-shot Springfield carbines at the Little Bighorn in June, 1876. Winchester repeaters also found favor with miners, homesteaders, ranchers, lawmen, and highwaymen.” http://www.nramuseum.com/the-museum/the-galleries/the-american-west/case-42-the-guns-that-won-the-west-colt-winchester/winchester-model-1866-lever-action-rifle.aspx

Winchester produced the Yellow Boy as a musket, a carbine (shorter barrel, often around 19”) and a rifle with a barrel up to 24 ¼”.

Some 150,000 Yellow Boys were produced from 1867 to 1892-93. The carbine version of the 1866 Yellowboy was a hit worldwide. Chief Sitting Bull had one; the forces of Benito Juarez used the rifles in Mexico; the Turkish Army used the new Winchester Yellowboy against the Russians; and settlers in the U.S. bought thousands for frontier use. Based on its popularity and performance, the “Yellow Boy” earned the title of “the gun that won the west.”

The Yellow Boy’s popularity with Native Americans as well as the general shooting public continued its production well after the introduction of the more powerful Model 1873 Winchester began.

The Yellow Boy is still popular in Hollywood. The Yellow Boy appeared in many of the Spaghetti Westerns, and, more recently, TomChaney (Josh Brolin) carried one in the new release of True Grit.

Winchester chambered it for the .44 Henry Flat round, or a flat nosed bullet. Though it didn’t have a lot of power for a rifle, the Henry Flat had already been proven in combat.  The Flat was a rimfire cartridge, which means the hammer strikes the rim of the cartridge, not the center. It wasn’t until near the end of production–when the 1876 Centennial Rifle was being produced–that Winchester developed a .44 center-fire cartridge for the 1866 rifle.

Here’s a tidbit that might come in useful in your plot – No dust covers were used on the 1866.  This did permit dust and other debris to enter the action, which meant misfiring or not firing at all–which can put the shooter in a real tight spot.

Next time — the gun that started it all: The Henry Repeating Rifle.

My next book, releasing May 1…which isn’t THAT far away, is called Deep Trouble.

Deep Trouble begins at a cliff dwelling site which is a somewhat fictionalized Mesa Verde and travels into the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

Researching this book was really interesting. I’ll talk more about The Grand Canyon next month, today I’ll tell you a few things I learned about Mesa Verde. Mesa Verde is located near the Four Corners region of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah. The Anasazi inhabited Mesa Verde anywhere between 550 to 1300 AD.

The first record of Mesa Verde came around 1760 when Spanish explorers from California traveled through the region. Mesa Verde means Green Table and the area had a lot of lush grass for such a dry region. The explorers saw the green and named it Mesa Verde but they didn’t get close enough to see the cliff dwellings. No one would notice the cliff dwellings for another hundred years.

The existence of the cave dwellings was recorded in 1873 by John Moss, a prospector. Others had seen the cliff dwellings but Moss is the one who got the word out. He acted as guide to a photographer in 1875 and the world suddenly knew about Mesa Verde.

Two cowboys also reported the existance of the ruins in 1888. Tracking wandering cattle through a snowstorm on top of the mesa, they stopped on the edge of a steep canyon. Through the snow they could see the faint outline of the walls and towers of what looked like a huge palace of stone on the far side of the canyon. 

Excited about their discovery, they made a makeshift ladder and climbed down to the deserted cliff city, exploring its ghostly network of deserted rooms, where they found such artifacts as tools and pottery. Their condition was so good that some of the items were still usable. They named the dwelling Cliff Palace, and archaeologists later determined that no one had stood in the rooms explored by the cowboys for nearly six centuries

In 1891 Gustaf Nordenskiöld, a trained mineralogist, introduced scientific methods to artifact collection, recorded locations, photographed extensively, diagrammed sites, and correlated what he observed with existing archaeological literature.

His did great work documenting the site, but then he tried to pack up as many artifacts as he could from the cliff dwellings with plans to take them back to Norway. When his plans were found out he was nearly hanged and had to abandon the area, but he wrote a book about Mesa Verde called The Cliff Dwellers of the Mesa Verde. This book put Mesa Verde on the map and unleashed a tremendous interest in the odd place. But, because there was no one protecting the cliff dwellings treasure hunters began systematically stripping the place for souvenirs. They even knocked down some of the walls to let light into the cave dwellings so they could see better to work. The site was finally named a national park in 1906.

These pictures are of several different cliff dwelling sites, including one in Africa. I used them just to show you the different ways ancient people found to make their homes in difficult areas. The one on the lower left is particularly cool and it was a site like this that ultimately was my inspiration for the beginning of the book, because we start off with my heroine being abandoned in one of the high caves when her traveling companions, whom she hired to help her search for the Seven Cities of Gold, were NOT impressed with this first city. No gold here. So they stole her map to the next city, which will lead them to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, left her in the high up cave to die and ran off. Along comes our hero who finds a woman stuck up high where he can’t reach. No ladder because the outlaws shot the one they used to get up there to smithereens.

A scene from the hero and heroine’s first meeting. Gabe Lasley, who first appeared in Cowboy Christmas, hears screaming and shots and rides to the rescue. When he gets to the place all the shooting was coming from he finds….a spooky, long abandoned city carved into stone.

Deep Trouble

Gabe got to the top of the narrow arroyo and pulled his horse to a dead stop.

He was looking at something he couldn’t believe.

A mountain carved up into— homes?

Shaking his head he looked closer, trying to make the structure in front of his eyes something created by nature. But it wasn’t. These were man made. The lowest levels had structure to them. Rock work that formed walls. There were depressions in the rocks above the structures. Cave openings, multiple levels of them. He counted four layers, one above the other, of what had to be dwellings of some kind.

And now abandoned.

Gabe had never heard of this. He was just passing through the area now, but he’d ridden with the cavalry in Texas and the Southwest for years. How could this have gone undiscovered? And who had found it now and died?

Fascinated, Gabe walked his horse into this lost valley, then swung down and tied the gelding to one of a thousand mesquite bushes. The wind whistled through the hills and canyons. It was the only sound and that moaning wind told him no one else was here. Those tracks cut in the dust were the only sign that humans had passed through here in ages. Seven horses in, seven out. Judging by the tracks, he’d say two pack horses, maybe three. So five people had come in here. How many had ridden out?

He tried to remember exactly where that sound had come from and it wasn’t hard to figure it out. He could see where people had stood, horses, supplies. A camp had been set up here and had only been torn down a few minutes ago. A chill sliced up his spine in the Arizona heat as he realized he’d barely missed whoever left this place. The folks doing all the shooting.

But who had done the screaming?

He stared at the wonder before him and studied the sign and terrain with no idea what to do next. There was nothing. No one.

The place was eerie, as if who ever had lived here before still watched, testing those who came. He heard wind whistling like a specter calling to him from those unnatural caves high overhead.

Where had the people gone who had done such work, created such a home? Who would work this hard then leave? Had they died? Had they abandoned all their labor? Had they been killed? And if so where were those that had done the killing?

His eyes went up four levels of stone homes. Gabe felt a quick chill of fear. No human hand created this. And yet what were the other possibilities? He was left with the sense that it was ancient and utterly empty of life.

“Help me.”

He jumped, drew his gun and whirled around toward where the riders had left. Heart slamming, he looked left and right. Blinked and gasped for air and saw. . .

. . .no one.

There was no one anywhere. Could the place be haunted? He didn’t believe in such things but—

That cry echoed and bounced until Gabe was surrounded.

“Help me, please.”

This time it was stronger and even with the echo, Gabe whirled back and looked up and up and up. A woman.

Gabe almost screamed.

Her face was soaked in blood, one arm flung over the edge of the cliff as she lay on her belly, looked down.

He probably would have screamed if he hadn’t choked on spit when he drew in an involuntary breath. While he coughed he fought to get a grip on his nerves.

Spooks and haints were something he’d heard of plenty growing up in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Tennessee. Lots of superstition in those mountains. But his ma raised them Christian and wasn’t given to such nonsense.

Still—

“I’m trapped. They left me.” Her voice was weak but it carried on the quiet of the canyon. This was no ghost. Except could ghosts fly? Because that’s the only way Gabe could see that she got up there.

The coughing ended and, with a whoosh of relief, his head cleared and he knew there was a woman up there. A real woman. A living, human being, definitely in terrible distress.

She was so high overhead, her face streaked in bright red blood. Dark hair spilling down over the edge of the cliff. He had no notion of what she looked like, only her voice and long hair told him she was female.

“Ma’am?” Gabe had no idea what to say or do.

“Help me, please.” Each word shook as if she gathered every ounce of her energy to keep talking. “Help me get down.”

“I’ll help you.” His voice didn’t exactly work. He tried again, loud enough she could hear him. “I’ll help you.”

“Promise you won’t leave me.” She sounded on the verge of pure panic.

Gabe couldn’t say he blamed her. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Her voice broke, and he heard a muffled sob. “I need you to get me down.”

“How?”

It wasn’t fair to ask a trapped bleeding woman how to save herself.

“I don’t know.”

Not fair at all.

http://www.maryconnealy.com

Several different weapons, both rifles and handguns, have been dubbed “the gun that won the west.” Like the Colt 1873 Peacemaker, a .45 caliber six-shot revolver; the Winchester Model 1866 “Yellowboy” lever-action repeating rifle, so named for its shiny brass frame; or today’s focus, the Winchester Model 1873 lever-action repeating rifle.

Some believe the Winchester Model 1873 is widely known as ‘the gun that won the west’ purely because there were so many made. With a production run of more than 720,000 in 50+ years, anyone who wanted one could buy one. And that meant a lot of these rifles went west with those brave enough to pack up and head off into parts unknown.

The steel-framed Model 1873 was made as a musket = a 30” round barrel (smooth bore, not rifled). According to Winchester, there were only around 500 of these produced.

…as a carbine = a 20” barrel, loaded with 14 cartridges; often had a saddle ring attached for easy accessibility and to keep it on the horse.

…and as a rifle = 24” octagonal barrel, with the insides “rifled” or grooved in a way that spun the bullet as it exited the barrel, giving it greater distance and much improved accuracy; loaded with self-contained black powder cartridges that were pushed into the receiver on the right side of the rifle and stored in a magazine that paralleled the barrel.

THANKS TO WWW.RAREWINCHESTERS.COM FOR THE PICS!

Though the 1873 couldn’t handle the more powerful cartridges used by the single-shot rifles of the time, I’m thinking 14 shots before reloading versus one made it worth the trade-off.

Originally chambered for the .44-40 cartridge (a .44 caliber bullet, propelled by 40 grains of black powder), the Model 1873 was later produced in .38-40 and .32-20, all of which were popular handgun cartridges of the day. This was important–if your handgun and your rifle used different size ammunition, you had to carry two sizes and you ran the risk of not having enough of what you needed; but if your belt guns and your saddle gun all used the same cartridge, you just dug into the saddle bag and started stuffing in bullets. That could help get your hero out of a really tight spot.

However, if you’re going to have your hero–or heroine or villain–carry two weapons that share ammunition, remember that the original Model 1873 was not made to use the.45 caliber Colt cartridge used in the very popular Colt “Peacemaker.”

But that doesn’t mean a Colt and a Winchester never shared ammunition. The popularity of the Winchester in .44-40 caliber had Colt manufacturing a version of the Single Action Army “Peacemaker” revolver that could use the Winchester’s ammunition. This insured the success of the Winchester rifle.

“Most Texas Rangers and every old West cowboy worth his salt carried 1873 rifles. Chappo, the son of Apache war chief Geronimo, packed an 1873. And Buffalo Bill carried an 1873 lever-action rifle along with a pair of .44-40 Colts in 1876 when he worked as an Army scout.” http://www.uberti.com/firearms/1873_rifle_and_carbine.php

If you’d like to see a reproduction in action, check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RUsZ5U9xYw  

Pay close attention to the difference in the amount of smoke produced between the first cartridges, which use modern smokeless powder, and the second set, which are loaded with a black powder substitute that is more like the black powder used in the 1800s. The smoke was always a factor with the weapons of the period. Every shot left a cloud that gave away the position of the shooter.

Finally, I have to share this really excellent list, the FIREAMS GLOSSARY from the Buffalo Bill Cody Museum in Cody, WY.  http://www.bbhc.org/firearms/research/

In 1847, Colonel Samuel Walker, Army commander and a Texas Ranger in John C. Hays’ company, approached Sam Colt to make a new, stronger, more powerful revolver. Colt took the order–but had no factory. He turned to Eli Whitney, Jr., son of the famous inventor of the cotton gin, who had a factory in Connecticut where the order was completed and shipped by mid-1847.

Named the “Walker” for the Colonel, this single action, six shot, black powder revolver was 15 ½” long and weighed–are you ready–4 pounds, 8 ounces! Unloaded! Add the lead balls, wadding, etc. and you’re close to 5 pounds. That’s as much as one of those big bottles of wine. Try gripping that and holding it steady at arms length.

Can you even imagine shooting that thing, let alone hauling a couple of them around all the time? Though Hollywood shows the Colt Walker as a belt gun, the Texas Rangers and the mounted troops under Walker’s command during the Mexican-American War, and on the Texas frontier, carried the Colt Walker in saddle holsters.

Just to give you a visual, in the pic on the right, Josey Wales holds a Colt Walker in his left hand and a Colt 1860 Army in his right.

In the picture on the left, character Augustus McCrae of Lonesome Dove, is holstering his Colt Walker. See how long it is compared to Robert Duvall’s torso?

[Both of these pictures are from The Internet Movie Firearms Database, www.imfdb.org. It's a great site!]

With an effective range of 100 yards, the 1867 Walker could be loaded with as much powder as some muskets, making it the most powerful revolver of its day. In fact, it was more powerful than most modern pistols. The black powder Walker Colt is regarded by some experts as the most powerful commercially manufactured repeating handgun from 1847 until the introduction of the .357 Magnum in 1935.

“It proved to be a revolver of such size, weight, and heft that Colt was reputed to have said, “It would take a Texan to shoot it.” Walker wrote in 1847 that the gun was “as effective as a common rifle at 100 yards and superior to a musket even at 200.” Far more powerful than the earlier Patersons, this gun quickly became legendary. For those who could afford it, the Walker Colt was a symbol of strength, authority and great financial means.

“Total production of the original Walker was about 1,100, a thousand of which were ordered by the U.S. Ordnance Department. The Walker was the first revolver ever purchased by the Army, and soldiers’ inexperience with a revolver resulted in a lot of “burst cylinders,” meaning all six chambers fired at the same time.”  [http://americanhistory.si.edu/militaryhistory/collection/object.asp?ID=820]

The Colt Walker was quickly followed by the Colt Dragoon series of revolvers, which only improved on a very good thing.

Oliver Winchester bought the remains of the Volcanic Repeating Arms Company, started the New Haven Arms Company, reorganized it as the Winchester Repeating Arms Company in 1866, and manufactured some of the most famous firearms ever created. Today we’re going to look at one of their most revered rifles: The 1876 Winchester Centennial Repeating Rifle.

Introduced at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition of 1876 and named to commemorate our nation’s one hundredth anniversary of independence, Winchester’s lever-action rifle was the largest and among the most powerful repeaters on the frontier. 

The Centennial was one of the first lever-action weapons to use larger caliber, center-fire ammunition. In the same way that “rim-fire” meant the hammer struck the rim of the projectile, center-fire means the hammer strikes the center of the bullet when the trigger is pulled. In this case, larger means .45-75 to .50-90 caliber bullets.

The Centennial Repeater was 48½” long with a 28” barrel, and weighed in at 9 to 9½ pounds! And loading it with shells adds at least another pound. A gallon of milk weighs only 8.6 pounds–try holding that out in front of you and keeping it steady enough to hit what you’re aiming at!

The bullets go into the magazine through a spring-loaded feeder on the right side of the rifle. Fully loaded, the 1876 Repeater held 12 total cartridges–11 in the magazine and one in the chamber. All you had to do was stuff the bullets into the feeder, rack the lever and pull the trigger.

Confederate soldiers who faced a Repeater in battle referred to it as that “rifle you load on Sunday and fire all week.”

This sturdy, reliable rifle was favored by good guys and bad guys alike. There were many of them at the Battle of Little Big Horn (most in the hands of the Native Americans), and they were common among those who traveled and settled out west. The Model 1876 was carried by ranchers and cowboys, Texas Rangers and the Canadian North West Mounted Police. President Theodore Roosevelt (right) owned and used one; even notorious outlaws such as Johnny Ringo (left) and Tom Horn relied on this rifle during the late 1800s.

Hollywood loved the 1876 Centennial Repeater, too. Tom Selleck carried one as Rafe Covington in Crossfire Trail (TNT, 2001) and as Monte Walsh in Monte Walsh (2002). Virginia Madsen used the 1876 Centennial when she saved the day–and her man– also in Crossfire Trail. It made an appearance Steve McQueen’s hands when he played Tom Horn in the 1980 movie of the same name. And characters Johnny Ringo and Sherm McMasters used it in Tombstone (1993).

Just for comparison, the pic at the right, from the final gunbattle in TNT’s Crossfire Trail, shows an 1876 Centennial in the back, an 1866 “Yellow Boy” or “Golden Boy” (because of the polished brass receiver) in the middle and a Winchester 1873 in the front.

The 1876 Centennial Rifle was the king of its day. Manufacturing was discontinued in 1898 after Winchester produced nearly 64,000 of this amazing lever-action rifle.

I’m not a sickly person. In fact, during my years teaching school, it was often more trouble to miss school than gut it out. And I get flu shots religiously every fall. 

Nonetheless, I came down with two nasty cold/viruses during the flu season of 2009-2010 and needed medical care for a horrific cough and ear infection that had me deaf in one ear. Scary! Some of the doctor’s advice was no-brainer: rest, liquids, and salt water nasal spray. Therefore, Dr. Quinn fanatic that I am, I wondered how folks fared during cold season in days of yore.

 Some remedies from our homesteadin’ ancestors still prevail: Breathing steam. Cooking up a pot of savory chicken soup, and mixing up Hot Toddies. (not necessarily together LOL). However, the old “feed a cold starve a fever” has definitely lost favor. Light exercise, fresh air, and good nourishment have proved to be essential to a quick return to health. 

Peeking through stuff for this post, I found a number of homemade cough remedies: 

        ** 2-3 drops of kerosene on a teaspoon of sugar.  

        ** Equal parts of oil of peppermint, friars balsam and tincture of red lavender. Also served drop by drop on a teaspoon of sugar.

       **  Syrup made from wild cherry bark, mullein leaf, slippery Elm powder, coltsfoot leaf, lobelia leaf, pleurisy root, elecampane root, and licorice root.

      **  Syrup made from honey, lemon and glycerin. 

For sore throats, homesteaders and city dwellers like usually dosed with teas made from sassafras or black currants, and the always popular and effective lemon and honey. A gargle of sage and alum mixed in a glass of water supposedly helped as well.

Elecampagne root

 Cold and canker sores could be eased with tea made from the berries of wild rose bushes, or a daub of potash. 

The concoction of one clove of garlic mixed in a cup of warm  milk was said to lessen the duration of the cold. Interestingly, today’s doctors know that an active compound in garlic, allicin, is an expectorant. 

Another everyday kitchen ingredient, the onion, served importantly as well. The housewife would slice an onion and put in the sickroom. Supposedly the contamination was drawn into the onion so no one else got sick. 

Furthermore, a few drops of onion juice into an infected ear was said to clear up the miserable condition in just two or three applications! (OK, not even on my worst ear day would I have tried this.)

In 1918, the following flu ointment was developed by druggist, J.D. Higgenbotham during the flu epidemic of 1918.

2 large jars white Vaseline
2 oz. turpentine
1/4 oz. menthol crystals
2 cakes of camphor gum
1/3 oz. oil of peppermint
1/4 oz. eucalyptus
1/4 oz. oil of wintergreen

The ingredients were melted and mixed well over low heat and store in covered jars.

 However, when all’s said and done, the most formidable routine therapy was the mustard plaster. I’d come across it once or twice in the books I read as a child, and the word “plaster” freaked me out.

This was apparently a very powerful treatment: To prepare, dry mustard, flour, and lukewarm water were made into a paste. The plaster was then spread on a piece of muslin big enough to cover the chest, then covered with another piece of muslin over the top, placed on the chest with tape. The chest needed to be checked in a few minutes for signs of allergic reaction or blistering. The plaster was removed after about a half hour.

One old wive’s tale suggests using the white of an egg instead of water to prevent the blistering of the skin, and that’s shown on the “recipe” above.

While I’m sure many of the above herbal treatments are still affective today, Sunday’s Parade magazine had a list of old-time cold remedies not recommended to try at home LOL. I think I’d rather cough, sneeze, and burn up than Eat snakeskin, Stuff garlic gloves up my nose, or Rub my feet with tallow and turpentine and Hold them against a wood stove.  Yikes!

Stay healthy out there!

?

Okay, I admit it. I’m a sucker for brochures, booklets, diaries, etc. when I’m traveling. That’s why I like to drive. The trunk is always way, way lower on my return trip.

This, unfortunately, remained true even after I discovered the internet where so much information is at my fingertips. There’s still nothing like glancing through all my shelves when it’s time to blog. I always find such neat little tidbits that might well escape me when I’m searching a particular subject on the internet.

This time, my eyes rested on a booklet, “Central City, the Richest Square Mile on Earth and the History of Gilpin Count” by Darlene Leslie, Keller Rankin-Sunter and Deborah Wightman.

Or course, the title caught my interest first. I knew immediately it had to do with gold mining, which is one of my favorite subjects. I think it’s the gambling blood in me but also because it was so responsible for the growth of the west. I’ve always been fascinated that the gold rush not only lured gold seekers from throughout the United Sates but also hopefuls from throughout Europe and Asia. A dozen languages were often spoken in mining camps. Talk about your melting pot.

The “Richest Square Mile on Earth” has details I’d not read before or didn’t recall.   I remember exactly when I bought it. I was to attend a RWA board meeting in Denver and had decided to go several days early and drive up to one of the old gold towns. I wasn’t deterred by what turned out to be a driving snow storm and had a marvelous time.  As for the book, it  must have been the few paragraphs that attracted my attention to this particular publication. “In May of 1859, the Little Kingdom of Gilpin (County)” was born as the cradle of Colorado history and the cultural and economic center of the west.” It covers Black Hawk, Central City, Navadaville, Rollinsville and Russell Gulch.

Annual production of precious metals grew rapidly after gold was found and in 1870 it was estimated at $1 million dollars. By 1880 it rose to more than $2 million annually, by 1890 to $3 million and by the early 1900s production topped out at more than $4 million dollars annually.

That doesn’t seem so much today. But look at the wages of that day. But first, this admonition from the time. “Coloradoans, as a class, are working people, always busy. It is no place for drones. There is always work of some kind for those who honestly seek it. Make a name for honesty, sobriety and reliability, and you can soon attain any position and salary that your abilities will warrant. If you are not such a person, stay away from Colorado, and let your friends, if you have any, support you in idleness.”

After that pithy warning from the past, the authors list the wages paid in 1881: Railroad laborers, $1.50 – 2.25 per day; blacksmiths and roofers, $2.00 – 3.00 per day; coal miners, $.75 to $1 per ton; clerks, $1 to 5 per day by ability; sawmill men, $1.50 – 3.50 per month with board; harness makers, $2.00- 2.25 a day; dining room girls, $20-30 per month & board (cooks and girls for private families are in great demand); Laundresses, $20 – 30 a month; farm boys, $10 to 15 per month.

Another admonition is at the end of the list: “Above all things, don’t come to Colorado unless you are determined to make a good honest record. Keep away from the gambling houses, bar-rooms and bagnios and you are all right. Visit them and you are lost, maybe, with your ‘boots on.’”

Prices for goods were in line in the salaries. Overalls were $.75 each while drawers went for $.50 and fine white shirts for $1.25. A “tonsorialist” (barber) charged $.75 for a shave and haircut. A lecture on Darwinian Theory was $1.00.

To protect the honest citizens of a mining community, a Miners’ Court was formed and developed a “criminal code.” The first section of the code declared that anyone convicted of willful murder, “shall be hung by the neck until he is dead.” The second section proclaimed that any person guilty of manslaughter, or homicide, shall be punished as a jury directed.

The third section said any person “shooting or threatening to shoot another, using or threatening to use any deadly weapons, except in self defense, shall be fined a sum not less than fifty nor more than five hundred dollars, and receive, in addition, as many stripes on his bare back as a jury of six men may direct, and be banished from the district.”

There were more sections, but you get the idea. Justice was sure and harsh. The local newspapers often reported it as such. “Load up your shotguns. There have been three attempted robberies,” according to the Daily Register.

Also reported by the Register, “Tramps are becoming numerous. A little cold lead would do them good.”

And how could you have an old mining town without ghosts? Gilpin County has a number of them, including the spirit of a Buddhist monk who inhabits a house originally built as a Buddhist Temple. The current owners of the house say he resides in a corner behind a large mirror and, when he appears, has a pleasant smile. The same house is also inhabited by the ghost of a young girl who was killed by accident in the same house. Her mother and father were arguing in the front yard. Her mother was holding a cast iron frying hand and threw it at her husband. It went through the French windows are struck the child in the head. The theory is that the monk stays behind to look after her. Or it could be that, since the Buddhist temple was used for years as a parlour house, the monk is there to protect some lost souls.

These are the kind of details that a writer relishes, that puts authenticity in the story she, or he, tells. It’s why I keep returning to those wonderful little booklets, to the diaries you can only find only in the towns they celebrate. The internet is a wonderful tool, but nothing can really replace all those treasures that weighed down my trunk.

Romance novels are all about suspending belief and creating characters (especially men) who look, act, smell, move, react and think the way we wished real men did.  This is particularly true in the bedroom-or as is so often depicted in Western romances-on the back of a horse.

Seriously?

I don’t want to burst any bubbles, but that just can’t happen, not unless the characters were circus folk.  And even then, it would require a catatonically calm horse, a man so gifted at multi-tasking (is there such a thing?) that he can simultaneously hold the reins, maintain his balance on a moving horse, and enjoy a carnal interlude with a woman, who-let’s be honest here–would have to be as limber as a gymnast, tough enough to rise above (so to speak) belt buckles, holstered pistols and that nasty saddle horn, and not suffer motion sickness when facing backwards.  It could happen, I suppose.  But wouldn’t their heads crash together with every stride the horse took?

But you won’t find those unpleasant realities in a romance.  Or any of the other improbable, disgusting, shocking, and unmentionable things that TRULY did happen in the Old West.  Such as…

…that whole hygiene thing.  Let’s face it.  Real cowboys didn’t roam the range with a trunk of clean clothes, laundry detergent, shaving gel, a loofah, or (dare I say it?) toilet paper (which they called personal papers).  And what “personal papers” they might have were not quilted or scented or stamped with pretty flowers.  They were rough, scratchy, barely processed sheets of paper with splinters.  Ewe.

And you know that old saying about what bears do in the woods?  Well, cowboys not only did that, but they also relieved themselves onto their campfires (hopefully not while they were cooking).  They even had an expression for it-”Pissing out the fire and calling in the dogs.”  I know.  Disgusting.  And yet even today-and I’m not kidding here-men will happily do this when the opportunity presents itself.  I swear.  Supposedly, they do it to douse the flames so an errant spark won’t start a forest fire.  Maybe.  But I suspect they also like the sound it makes, and pride themselves on doing something no right-thinking woman would even attempt.  But I could be wrong.

And as long as we’re talking about disgusting things that are too realistic to be included in a Western Romance, what about tobacco?   Sure, sometimes cowboys fed it to their horses as a cure for worms, but mostly they chewed the stuff.  Which requires spitting.  Which is why it’s rarely mentioned, because really, how sexy can a hero be with a bulging cheek and a mouthful of brown spit?  I’m starting to make myself sick, so we’ll move on to actual smoking, which created its own set of problems in the Old West.  With no ashtrays handy, a fellow didn’t dare flick a lit match or hot cigarillo into the tender-dry brush.  So what did he do with the butt?  He put it out in his palm…AFTER dampening that palm with…you guessed it…spit.

But don’t expect to see that happen in a western romance.  Why?  Because we western romance authors have class.  And even though we might know what REALLY happened in the Old West, we also know how to dance that thin line between fantasy and reality.  That’s what we do, and we’re good at it.

But just for research purposes, what would a hero have to do to cross the line?  What is too gritty, and what is OK?

I’m giving away an autographed copy of my new book CHASING THE SUN (the third book in the Blood Rose Trilogy) to two lucky people who drop by and leave a comment.

Visit my website at www.KakiWarner.com

On a vast open plain a few miles south of Ponca City, Oklahoma, lies the burial ground of one of the greatest ranching empires of the West—the Miller brothers’ 101 Ranch.

None of the former 101 Ranch estate remains today. All of the buildings were destroyed and the land subdivided and sold after the Miller Brothers’ final bankruptcy. This photo shows the 101 Ranch as it existed with ranchhouse, corrals, and out-buildings.

Established in 1893 by Colonel George Washington Miller, a former Confederate soldier, and his wife Molly, the 101 became known as the “Largest Diversified Farm and Ranch in America.”  It was nicknamed the “White House.”

 Not only was the 101 one of the largest working ranches west of the Mississippi, it was even more famous for its Wild West shows.  These displays of horsemanship, roping, and daring “rescues” transitioned from local shows to the national level in 1907 when the 101 Wild West Show performed at the Jamestown Exposition in Virginia.  In 1908, the tour circuit began in earnest.

The Miller Brothers 101 Ranch Wild West Show wagons.

Pawnee Bill and Zack Miller on horseback in Oklahoma.

The Miller brothers, Joseph, George Jr., and Zack, had permitted some of their cowboys to perform at a local fair, and from this, their own Wild West show grew to become known worldwide.

It was essentially a Wild West show, complete with cattle, buffaloes, cowboys and Indians.  It included an all-around crowd pleaser—the attack on the stagecoach.  But it also contained elements of the circus with sideshows, and “freaks” such as the Bearded Lady.  In the heyday of its popularity, the Millers’ 101 Wild West Show netted them over one million dollars per year!

The idea of formalizing the performing cowboys into a Wild West show came from the Millers’ longtime friend and neighbor, Major Gordon W. Lillie—also known as Pawnee Bill.  Pawnee Bill eventually combined his own Wild West show with Buffalo Bill Cody’s.  The 101 Wild West Show, however, remained solitary, boasting stars such as black bulldogger Bill Pickett, Bee Ho Gray, early movie star Tom Mix, Mexican Joe, and eventually, Buffalo Bill Cody as well.

The Miller brothers were latecomers to the Wild West show circuit, causing them to suffer financially with the advent of movies.  Even so, their show became the largest in the nation by the 1920’s, requiring more than 100 train cars to travel from town to town.

By 1916, the two younger Miller brothers, George Jr. and Zack, gave up trying to work with their temperamental oldest brother, Joe.  It was during this time period that Joe hired an aging Buffalo Bill Cody to star in a WWI recruitment show:  The Pageant of Preparedness.  Cody quit the show due to illness, and died within a year.  Still, Joe tried to keep the show going, but was unsuccessful.  He offered it for sale to the American Circus Corporation in 1927.  They were uninterested, suffering from financial distress as well.  On October 21, 1927, a neighbor found Joe Miller dead in the ranch garage of carbon monoxide poisoning.  Several months later, his brother, George Jr., was killed in a car accident.  In 1932, Zack Miller was forced to file for bankruptcy.  The U.S. Government seized what remained of the show’s assets and bought 8,000 acres of the 101 Ranch.  Zack Miller died in 1952 of cancer.

Today, what remains of the once-glorious three-story stucco 101 Ranch headquarters is rubble.  Over ten years ago, efforts began to turn the site into a roadside park. 

Bill Pickett, the inventor of bulldogging, or steer wrestling, is buried there.  On the same mound where Bill Pickett lies is a memorial to the Ponca chief, White Eagle, who led his people to a nearby reservation during the 1870’s from their holdings along the Nebraska-Dakota border.

 The stone monument was built as an Indian trail marker where signals and messages could be left by different friendly tribes who passed by.  These tribes generally understood the signals, and could tell which way the other travelers were going.  Gradually, settlers took away the stones for building purposes.  Because Colonel George Miller and White Eagle were lifetime friends, and Joe Miller was adopted into the tribe, the renovation of the trail marker had significance to the 101 Ranch for many reasons.

 The 101 Ranch was a bridge between these old, lost days of the early West, when Colonel George Miller started the venture as a settler after the States’ War, and the modern times of change.  The 101 Ranch was the headquarters for the show business contingent of cowboys and other western performers of the early 1900’s.  Will Rogers was a frequent visitor, as well as presidents and celebrities from around the world.  Some of the first western movies were filmed on the 101 Ranch. 

Though there isn’t much left of the actual building, the 101 Ranch exceeded the expectations for a “cattle ranch.”  Indeed, it was a virtual palace on the Oklahoma plains; a place where dreams were lived.

 In my historical western novel, Fire Eyes, Kaed Turner talks with his friend and mentor, Tom Sellers, about giving up law enforcement and settling down to ranching.  At first, Tom sees it as an unattainable dream; but as the conversation progresses, the possibilities look better.  Here’s what happens!

 FIRE EYES:

Tom smiled. “Glad you’ve got somebody good—deep down—like you are, Kaed. Ain’t too many men who’d take on another man’s child, love her like you do your Lexi.”

Kaed put his hand against the rough wood of the tree and straightened out his arm, stretching his muscles.

Tom drew deeply on his pipe, and Kaed waited. He’d known Tom so long that he recognized the older man was going to broach a subject with him that he normally would have avoided. Finally, Tom said, “I told Harv he needed to find someone. Settle down again. Grow corn and make babies. Think I might’ve offended him. But after seein’ him with little Lexi, it hit me that he seemed content. For the first time in a long while.”

It had struck Kaed, as well. Harv rarely smiled. But when he’d played with Lexi, it seemed that grin of his was permanently fixed on his face.

“Seems that way for you, too, boy.” Tom wouldn’t look at him. “Seems like you found what you’ve been looking for. Don’t let marshalin’ ruin it for you, Kaed. I’ve stayed with it too long. Me and Harv and Jack, we’ve been damn lucky to get this old without gettin’ killed either in the War, or doin’ this job.”

“Tom? Sounds like you’ve got some regrets.”

Tom nodded. “You made me realize somethin’, Marshal Turner, and now I don’t know whether to thank you or cuss you. When I saw the way that woman looked at you, the way that baby’s eyes lit up, it made me know I shoulda give this all up years ago and found myself somebody. Taken the advice I gave Harv. Planted my seed in the cornfield and in my woman’s belly, and maybe I’d’a been happier, too.”

“It’s not too late.” Kaed’s voice was low and rough. The doubt he’d had at starting his own family again was suddenly erased by the older man’s words. Nothing would bring his first family back. But he had a second chance now, and he was a helluva lot younger than Tom Sellers. He’d had it twice, and Tom had never had it at all. Never felt the love flow through a woman, through her touch, her look, and into his own body, completing him. Never looked into the eyes of a child who worshipped him. He wouldn’t have missed that for anything the first time. Or the second. Tom turned slowly to look at Kaed, the leaves of the elm tree patterning the filtering moonlight across his face. “You think that cause you’re young, Kaed. Twenty-nine ain’t forty-three.”

“Forty-three ain’t dead, Tom. There’s plenty of women out there. Plenty of land. Room to spread out. What’re you grinnin’ at?”

Tom laughed aloud. “Got any particular woman in mind?” Quickly, he added, “Now, remember, Kaed. She’s gotta be young enough to give me a baby, but not so young she’s a baby herself. Gotta be easy on the eye, and I want her to look at me like your Jessica looks at you. And by the way, have you got any idea where a fella could get a piece of good land for raisin’ cattle, with a little patch for farmin’?”

Kaed’s lips twitched. Tom was dreaming, but only half dreaming. The serious half had taken root in his heart and mind. Kaed knew before too much longer, that part would eat away at the lightheartedness until it took over completely, becoming a bold, unshakeable dream that he would do his utmost to accomplish. Now that Tom had envisioned what his life could be, Kaed knew it would fall to him to help make it a reality.

“Let’s end this business with Fallon. After that, we’ll find the land and the cattle.”

“Don’t mean nothin’ without the woman, Kaed. You oughtta know that.”

“I do.” Kaed smiled, his thoughts straying to Miss Amelia Bailey, the not-so-young-but-young-enough school teacher in Fort Smith, who always seemed to trip over her words when Tom Sellers came around. Just the right age. And very easy on the eye. “Stick with me, old man. I may even help you find a decent woman to settle down with.”

To order FIRE EYES:

http://thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=534&zenid=559cec992e1a9f21828c206cc4d35d47

When I was writing my first historical, KNIGHT ON THE TEXAS PLAINS, I had to research juries in the Old West. My heroine was accused of murdering her first husband. Jessie ran from the law and was sheltered by Duel McClain, my hero. They subsequently married and set about raising a child Duel had won in a poker game. As with most stories dealing with a character who runs Jessie was tracked down (by Duel’s brother no less) and taken back for trial. That’s when I knew I had to find out more about juries and the legal system.

Jury members were either handpicked by the judge (which sometimes led to grossly unfair disadvantages for the defendant if the judge had an ax to grind) or names were drawn from a hat.

Sometimes they chose six and sometimes twelve jurors. Only white males were chosen. No women or other nationalities were allowed to serve.

Fact: In 1970 the Supreme Court of the U.S. ruled that a jury panel of six did not violate the accused Sixth Amendment Rights and the defendant’s guilty verdict was upheld as Constitutional. I did not know this. I’d always thought a jury was comprised of twelve people.

Another thing that really struck me was learning about Jury Nullification (the process whereby a jury in a criminal case nullifies a law by acquitting a defendant regardless of the weight of evidence against him or her.) In other words, nullification often happens when the jury believes some social issue is larger than the case itself. That’s happened pretty frequently.

Take the case of John Peter Zenger in 1733. Zenger was an editor and publisher of a New York newspaper. He printed another man’s article criticizing William Cosby, the Governor of New York. Zenger was arrested and tried for seditious libel. Although he was guilty of printing the anonymous article in the newspaper according to the law at the time, the jury came back with a not guilty verdict effectively nullifying the law. Zenger’s attorney, Andrew Hamilton, established the precedent that a statement, even if defamatory, is not libel if it can be proven, thus affirming freedom of the press in America.

That’s what happens to Jessie in Knight on the Texas Plains. The jury knew she was guilty of murdering her first husband but realized that she was justified in doing so and that she was protecting her own life. There wasn’t a law at the time against a man beating his wife but there should’ve been and her knew it.

Another fact: It wasn’t until 1968 that Congress passed the Jury Selection and Service Act. It reformed the selection process, mandating that a pool of jury names be selected from registered voters and that the names be randomly selected. I can’t believe it took that long. That’s astounding to me.

And lastly….In 1870 the first woman juror, Eliza Stewart of Laramie, Wyoming was chosen.

Do you know of any well-known jury cases? While I didn’t agree with it then or now, O.J. Simpson’s not guilty verdict for the murder of Nicole Simpson comes to mind.

Leave a comment to get your name in the pot for a copy of KNIGHT ON THE TEXAS PLAINS.