RED HAWK’S WOMAN — Another Excerpt

bannerGood Morning, Afternoon or Evening!

With the release of RED HAWK’S WOMAN in Tradepaper, I feel it only right to give away a free copy of the Tradepaper copy of the book, which is a $16.00 value.  But a word about this give-away, please.

The give-away is for US residents of the greater 48 States only and you must be 18 to enter into the drawing.  Names are drawn at random and is a matter of pure luck.  All you have to do to enter the contest is leave a comment.  The give-away is also void where prohibited.

Another detail I need to go over before we get into the blog today, is please check back tomorrow, Wednesday evening, to see if you are the winner.  If you are the winner, but don’t contact me, then I cannot get the book to you.  I know that some blog sites will contact you if you are the winner, but in this particular give-away, you must check back tomorrow (Wednesday eve), where I will announce the winner and leave instructions on the blog on how to contact me so that I can get the book to you.  If you have any questions, please feel free to say it in your comment, or contact me personally through email.

That said, two weeks ago, my blog was an excerpt from the book, RED HAWK’S WOMAN, and today, I’m going to post another excerpt of the book.  Hope you enjoy!

RedHawksWoman72lgRED HAWK’S WOMAN, an excerpt

By

Karen Kay

 

He wanted to laugh at her, for she looked so stubborn and yet so forlorn. Indeed, at this moment, he thought she resembled a rabbit, staring up into the eyes of a wolf. Unfortunately for him, he was that wolf.

“You are frightened,” he told her, “especially after what happened a few nights ago. And because you do not understand why I am here, asking you these questions, you fear for your safety, even with me. I only hope you will give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

“I hope so too.” She rose to her knees. “Now if you will excuse me, I must get back to my hotel. The others will wonder about me.”

When she made to get to her feet, he did not stop her. Instead, he gave her one quick nod, which appeared to keep her from leaving, at least for the moment.

“Thank you for combing my hair.” She smiled as if to ease the tension between them. “I could all too easily become accustomed to such things.”

That smile was his undoing. Was she some sort of enchantress that she could ensnare him with an action so simple?

He wanted to get lost in that grin, to bask in it. Moreover he longed to spend more time with her, wanted the rest of the world to go away when he was with her. He swallowed hard. “You are most beautiful when you smile.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but even she seemed at a loss for words, and her lips, now parted, looked inviting.

He cleared his throat, started to say something, but had second thoughts.

She mumbled, “I never forgot you.”

“Nor I, you. I waited for you that day.”

“And I came back to that pool day after day,” she confessed. “You never returned.”

“I was gone from that country by then.”

“Gone? But I thought you lived there.”

What could he say that she might understand? Certainly not the truth.

Not knowing what to tell her and what not to, he simply gazed at her. At length, however, he uttered, “I, too, have my secrets. Perhaps tomorrow evening we will unburden ourselves.”

“Perhaps.”

“I would touch you, if you would let me.”

Shyly, her gaze locked on to his. “Would you? How?”

What was she suggesting? He closed his eyes briefly. Swamped by a craving to know every little thing about her, he tried to speak. Nothing happened.

For lack of knowing what else to do, he brought his hand to her cheek, smoothing the backs of his fingers down toward her neck. With the action, desire, hot and urgent, raced through him. Her skin was soft, delicate, fragrant with femininity. He swallowed. “It’s not enough.”

“What?”

“I thought a simple touch would be plenty—that it would last me…several days. I was wrong. It’s not enough.”

She shut her eyes then slowly drew in toward him. Her lips parted, she swallowed and she whispered, “Then how else would you touch me? That is, if you could?”

Did she, too, want more? The thought sent him quietly out of his mind. “Perhaps I might stroke you like this.” Bending, he brought his cheek to hers. “Or maybe like this,” he mumbled, as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Haiya, he needed to feel her flesh against his.

But it was not to be. It could never be.

He should let her go. He would let her go.

And then from out of nowhere came her words. “Do you kiss?”

“Of course I kiss.” Hardly able to believe he was having this conversation with her, he tried to gulp down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

She murmured, “You might try it and see.”

He lowered his head; she lifted hers. Gently, his lips sought the silky texture of her mouth, and he thought that pleasure might surely burst within him.

Everything about her was right—the way her lips fit against his, the clean taste of her breath. He hungered to know more of her.

She groaned. The sound excited him, and in reaction to it, he thought he might explode.

He nipped at her lips once, again, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, teasing her, testing her. How much of this could he take before he demanded more?

She leaned in toward him, and he caught her, pulling her closer yet. But he didn’t continue his foray of her. Instead he brought her body in as near as he possibly could—given the fullness of her swimming attire—and hugged her. “I have dreamed of doing this from the moment I first saw you.”

It was her turn to gasp, as though she couldn’t quite breathe in sufficient oxygen. “Now or back then?”

“Both. But neither has been a good time for us. Back then we were too young, and now we have secrets from one another.”

He set her away from him, but he couldn’t let her go completely, and the backs of his fingers came up to smooth over her cheek. Downward he caressed, toward her neck.

He knew what he should do, what he should suggest. He only hoped he had the courage to do it, to say it.

Do not be lured by matters of the flesh.

White Claw’s words echoed in Red Hawk’s mind. But was this a simple matter of the flesh? Red Hawk argued with himself. Or was this more?

Deep within himself, he knew the answer, as surely as he knew his heart. After a few moments, he gulped down air and summoned his nerve. “We should marry.”

RED HAWK’S WOMAN by Karen Kay

karenkay.jpg

Enduring Westerns

Two exciting things happened this weekend that I just have to share!

I just returned from the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference that was held this year in Dallas, Texas. It was a whirlwind of workshops, being updated on the publishing industry, re-connecting with writer friends and meeting new ones. Fresh new faces and voices are making their way onto the scene which is always exciting.

The first evening a genre dinner is held, where authors are encouraged to dress the part of one of their characters. It is a fun ice-breaker and conversation starter. This is a picture of me in a Victorian shop-keepers garb–a character from my new Western coming out in December. (Familiar Stranger in Clear Springs) Perhaps the hat is a bit too fancy with the netting…I’m beginning to think I have very little fashion sense (and my current hairstyle does not lend itself to the 1800s!)  The woman beside me writes Biblical fiction and so is dressed in B.C. style. Barbara & Kathryn in historical garb

My agent, Mary Sue Seymour, asked me to participate on a panel. At first I balked…the books I have had published are historical western romance–not Christian fiction–and because of that I didn’t think anyone would want to hear what I had to say. I felt like the odd-man out. The topic was what to do when your manuscript is rejected. Although a few authors have the first manuscript they submit accepted for publication, that is not the norm. I came the “normal” route, and had a few pearls of wisdom that I could pass on to new writers. A lot of it has to do with persistence and continuing to refine the craft of writing. It is always a comfort to hear the “war stories” of bigger writers…J.K.Rowling and John Grisham…and know that their first manuscripts were also rejected a number of times.Panel with Seymour Agnecy sibs & Mary Sue Seymour

Karen Witemeyer, my Petticoats and Pistols filly-sister, also gave a wonderfully, informative workshop. I barely recognized her. (She’s letting her hair grow.)

But this is a Western Blog–and so let me get to the real point of this post. I was happy to learn that Westerns are as big as ever in this crazy publishing business! Readers love them, publishers want them, and the writers who enjoy writing them have a wonderful future! How is that for good news! There is just something about the American West, the cowboy, and wide-open spaces that calls to people. In an industry where things come and go (remember Chick Lit?), Westerns are here to stay. Yee-haw!

And the second wonderful thing that happened? I just received the book cover for my December release from my editor! The book is available for pre-order at Amazon already! I’m so excited to share it with you…

Familiar Stranger in Clear Springs

 

What is it about westerns that keeps you coming back for more?

 

 

 

Cindy Nord Has a Winner!

WITH OPEN ARMSThank you, Miss Cindy! Now we know what some of those women were doing for fun. 🙂

Winner of her e-book copy of WITH OPEN ARMS is……..

VALARIE

Woo-Hoo! I’m dancin’ up a storm for you, Valarie. Miss Cindy will contact you about claiming your prize.

 

BIG…SPECIAL…WINNER ANNOUNCEMENT

Fire and Ice cover
Fire and Ice

Everyone was so FUN yesterday. It really was one of the best blogging days of my life.

Thank you for all the kind words and enthusiasm for the release and the giveaway for

FIRE AND ICE

Because I’m sort of buzzed with all your kindness and also excited for the release of Fire and Ice

I have decided that, instead of ONE WINNER…

I’m picking FIVE

They are–

Linda Groth … Kimberly Rouleau … Rebecca Dewey … Becky Hriv …&… Jackie Morris

I will email each of you to get your mailing address and SERIOUSLY I was tempted to give away about TWENTY (okay 75!!!)

Such a great bunch of readers. THANK YOU ALL.

ARCHERY: VICTORIAN STYLE by Cindy Nord

Cindy Nord - Professional Image

 

I absolutely adore the Victorian years…indeed, those golden decades when Queen Victoria sat her throne. And as we know, what the good queen mandated across the big pond, so obeyed the middle and upper class of America.

Archery1_LaBelleAssemblee_1831

During this era, participating in genteel pastimes allowed a well-heeled lady freedom from the humdrum of her everyday life of reading, playing the piano, or passementarie needlework. Any opportunity to appreciate the great outdoors would most certainly be well accepted. From croquet to tennis to horseback riding, these informal, yet socially-appropriate, affairs helped to bring excitement to her life. Yet, no task delivered as much enjoyment as did the recreation called archery.

 

When the Queen of England proclaimed her love of this hobby, deeming it worthy of a lady’s attention, her vanguard of devoted followers took heart. Archery caught on like wildfire, blazing across nineteenth-century womankind to become the first organized, competitive sport for females. But ladies never lost sight of their femininity. In fact, at the Grand National Archery meeting in Norwich, England, in 1866, the first prize was a magnificent Spitalfields Silk shawl — a coveted item, to be sure! By 1880, archery clubs for the genteel in America could be found coast-to-coast, but only the wealthiest women could afford the equipment needed to join.

Archery2_ScientificAmerican_1894

 

A lady’s bow weighed 40 pounds at full draw and arrows were 30-inches long. Soon archery became the sport, which could even be enjoyed upon a whim as it did not require the changing of dress that accompanied the activities of croquet or tennis. In fact, the lady’s archer outfit simply consisted of her dress for the day. A small quiver containing extra arrows draped one shoulder. Across the archer’s other shoulder draped a “scoring kit,” of sorts. Inside this and usually made of silk was an ivory, acorn-shaped container that held beeswax to keep her gloved fingers from sliding off the bowstring, an ivory pencil, and a small, circular disc containing paper to keep score. Also tucked inside was an extra bowstring and several gold tokens. With every archery match won, the champion would receive a coin from each of her opponents. Archery3_HarpersWeekly_1881

 

Collecting these coveted tokens became the quest of every lady archer. The afternoon event was usually followed by a gala dinner and an evening of a grand and glorious ball. The wealthiest even built their own lodges to host said celebrations. So the next time we wonder what activities the affluent ladies of the Victorian era did to pass the time, now we know exactly which one they preferred.

Cindy will gift one ebook of With Open Arms to one blogger today!! 

 

 Archery4_HarpersWeekly_1878

 

 

 

Author bio:

Historical romance writer Cindy Nord is the author of No Greater Glory, a number-one Civil War romance at Amazon for more than a year and book one in her four-book The Cutteridge Family series. With Open Arms, book two in the series, debuted in August 2014. Cindy also contributed to the non-fiction anthology Scribbling Women and the Real-Life Romance Heroes Who Love Them. A blend of history and romance, her love stories meld both genres around action and emotionally driven characters.NoGreaterGlory (1)

 

Website:  www.cindynord.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/cindy.nord.9

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/cnord2

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/cnord2/

 

GetAttachment with open armsWith Open Arms (http://amzn.com/B00KT23WO0)

A war-weary ex-soldier. An untamable hellion. Love doesn’t stand a chance in hell…

Hardened in childhood by the death of her parents, then left to run the family’s southwestern territory ranch when her brother rode off to fight for the Union years before, Callie Cutteridge hides her heartbreak behind a mask of self-sufficiency. Breaking horses for the army proves she’s neither delicate nor helpless. When a former cavalry officer shows up claiming to own her brother’s half of the Arizona ranch, she steels herself to resist the handsome stranger’s intention to govern even one single aspect of her life. After all, loving means losing…to her it always has.

For months, Jackson Neale has looked forward to putting the bloodstained battlefields back east behind him. Callie isn’t the agreeable angel her brother led him to believe, but he’s damned well not the useless rake this foul-mouthed hellion thinks he is, either. His quest for calm stability contradicts sharply with her need for control, yet still their heartstrings tangle. But how can these mistrusting partners transform their fiery passion into a happily-ever-after when all Callie knows how to do is fight…and all Jackson wants is peace?

 

 Image credits:

Archery1_LaBelleAssemblee_1831.jpg: Illustration from La Belle Assemblee, 1831

Archery2_ScientificAmerican_1894.jpg: “Meeting of the Toxophilite Society.” Scientific American, 1894

Archery3_HarpersWeekly_1881.jpg: “The Archery Tournament, Prospect Park, Brooklyn.” Harper’s Weekly, July 23, 1881

Archery4_HarpersWeekly_1878.jpg: “Archery Practice on Staten Island.” Harper’s Weekly, 1878

 

FIRST EVER IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE GIVEAWAY OF FIRE & ICE

Fire and Ice cover
 Fire & Ice releasing Oct. 1-Click te

A hard weight crushed her to the floor.

In the dark, she clawed for the rifle she’d laid beside her on the floor with what limited motion she had and found nothing. Her rifle was gone. She was mixed up. Had she rolled away from it?

“Get off!” Striking at whoever had her, she got one good punch in, then found her arms pinned. She wrestled, shoved, fought, shouted. Nothing gained her any ground.

She felt a tug at her clothes. For a second she froze. Was this a nightmare? She was swept back to the war. To memories that haunted her. A nightmare that she’d barely survived. There was another tug, then another. Shaking her head she tried to force herself to wake up, hoping desperately she was dreaming.

The tugging stopped. She heard a sound, part gasp, part grunt. It was the first she’d heard from this man and it wiped away any hope she had that she was sleeping.

A hand slid down her side following her from under her arm to her waist to her hip—in then out down the hourglass curve. With a yelp, not unlike a dog with a pinched tail, the man rolled off her.

“You’re a woman!” Gage Coulter’s voice cut through the horror that had frozen her. He moved so fast you’d’ve thought he was laying on a bed of rusty nails.

Bailey scrambled for her gun.

He leapt to his feet. “You can quit looking. I’ve got it.” His arm swooped up, her rifle silhouetted in the darkness, held high over his head.

Miss Bailey Wilde.” The disgust in his voice almost shook the cabin walls. “Now why didn’t I know you’d be a woman? I’ve seen your sister Shannon running around in britches. I’ve heard your pa go on and on about his son Jimmy—the way a man might talk if he only had one boy.”

Bailey suddenly realized she was free. She clawed at her holster.

“I got your six-shooter, too.” Gage lifted his other hand. “And don’t bother searching for the knife up your sleeve nor the ones in your boot or your belt.” He bend to the floor and scooped up every weapon she had. The tugs she’d felt. Not a man assaulting her. A man disarming her.

Mary ConnealyHonestly…that was annoying, but better than what she’d feared.

He tossed the knives on her kitchen table along with her guns, the clatter shook her into action. She lurched to her feet and ran for the nearest deadly object.

Coulter moved fast for a big man.

~~~~~~~~~

LEAVE A COMMENT TO GET YOUR NAME IN THE DRAWING FOR A COPY OF FIRE & ICE!!!

Rita Award Finalist Mary Connealy writes romantic comedy with cowboys. She has been a finalist for a Christy Award and Inspirational Readers Choice Awards and a two time winner of the Carol Award.

Mary has over three quarters of a million books in print. She is the author of 41 books, including Fire and Ice, book #3 of the Wild at Heart series, Kincaid Brides series, Trouble in Texas Series, also; Lassoed in Texas, Montana Marriages, and Sophie’s Daughters series and many other books. She lives on a ranch in eastern Nebraska with her very own romantic cowboy hero.

http://www.maryconnealy.com

http://www.maryconnealy.com/newsletter.html My Newsletter

And I’m on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/maryconnealy

And Twitter: http://twitter.com/maryconnealy

 

Cindy Nord Rides For the Junction!

WITH OPEN ARMSMiss Cindy Nord is riding hard and will arrive on Friday, September 18!

This historical romance author loves research and uncovers golden nuggets all the time.

Women archers in America in the 1800s?

Miss Cindy will tell us about that. Very interesting.

Bless my soul, she toting an e-copy of a book to give away too!

Come and help us welcome her. We’ll save you a seat!

The Fake Ghost Who Started a Real Religion

Kathleen Rice Adams header

Once upon a time in a farmhouse in Hydesville, New York, there lived two sisters who loved to scare family and friends with their vivid imaginations. One day in late March 1848, the girls told a neighbor about spooky happenings in their bedroom. Eager to disprove the girls’ claims that the ghost of a murdered traveling salesman inhabited their home — a tale with which they’d already terrified their mother — the neighbor accompanied fourteen-year-old Maggie Fox and her eleven-year-old sister Kate into their bedroom … where the neighbor, too, was dutifully terrified by the apparently sentient wall-rapping in response to the girls’ questions.

The old fox cottageThus began a religion known as Modern Spiritualism, which is still practiced today.

After having their worst fears seemingly confirmed, the Fox family abandoned the farmhouse, sending Maggie and Kate to live with their older sister, Leah Fox Fish, in Rochester, New York. That may not have been the wisest decision. Rochester was a hotbed of religious activity. Mormonism and the movement that later became Seventh Day Adventism both saw their genesis in the Rochester area.

Upon hearing the tale of the murdered salesman and the unearthly sounds, a group of Rochester residents examined the Fox homestead and found strands of hair and bits of bone in the basement. At a subsequent community meeting, the girls were put to the test: Could they communicate with the dead in Rochester, too?

fox-sisters
The Fox sisters: Left to right: Leah (1814–90), Kate (1838–92), and Maggie (1836–93)

The girls proved they could by summoning raps on the floor. In addition, Leah seemed to communicate with one community leader’s deceased daughter. All three Foxes were escorted into a private room after the demonstration, where they disrobed and were examined for any hints of duplicity. None were found.

Word of the sisters’ uncommon abilities reached Andrew Jackson Davis, later to become known as “John the Baptist of Modern Spiritualism.” Davis claimed to have received a Divine message on the very day the Fox sisters first channeled spirits on the family farm. In response to the dreary Calvinist teachings of the day, people could not wait to adopt a new spiritualism that taught each individual was the master of his own salvation. The spirits of those who had passed on were there to guide them to their ultimate fate, as they, in turn, would guide those who came after them.

The Fox Sisters embarked on a tour of New England and the Midwest, demonstrating their abilities to notables including newspaperman Horace Greeley, author James Fennimore Cooper, and abolitionist William Cullen Bryant. Many accused the girls of perpetrating a hoax, but a growing number of people, convinced by the knocking and apparent communication with dead relatives, embraced the Spiritualist movement.

In 1857, Maggie married explorer Elisha Kent Kane, a man thirteen years her senior who, though he reportedly loved her to distraction, insisted she was a fraud. He died an untimely death shortly after the wedding. Maggie began drinking heavily and abandoned Spiritualism to honor his memory. Kate married a devout Spiritualist leader and continued to develop her skills as a medium, including the use of blank cards upon which messages from the Beyond seemed to appear magically. Among the hazy apparitions she allegedly summoned was Benjamin Franklin’s.

tablelev
The Fox sisters demonstrate their ability to levitate a table (1850).

By the end of the Civil War, more than two million believers had converted to Spiritualism; by 1880, adherents grew to more than eight million.

In 1888, Maggie received $1,500 to tell her story in front of a large audience at the New York Academy of Music. By then doing her best to live a life of sobriety, Maggie confessed to the hoax that started the mass hysteria.

“My sister Katie and myself were very young children when this horrible deception began,” the New York World reported. “At night when we went to bed, we used to tie an apple on a string and move the string up and down, causing the apple to bump on the floor, or we would drop the apple on the floor, making a strange noise every time it would rebound.”

The sisters soon discovered they could manipulate their knuckles, toes, and other joints to make a variety of unusual sounds. Maggie demonstrated by removing her shoe, placing her foot on a small stool, and producing “rapping” noises

“A great many people when they hear the rapping imagine at once that the spirits are touching them,” Maggie said. “It is a very common delusion. Some very wealthy people came to see me some years ago when I lived in Forty-second Street, and I did some rappings for them. I made the spirit rap on the chair and one of the ladies cried out: ‘I feel the spirit tapping me on the shoulder.’ Of course that was pure imagination.”

Spiritualists quickly split on the matter, one camp saying Maggie was a true medium who had been consumed by spirits intent on deceiving humanity, and the other claiming she had sold out her religion because, as a poor widow, she needed the money.

Fox1
The Fox sisters conduct a seance in New York (ca. 1855)

Leah, a popular medium in New York City, disowned her younger sister. Kate hit the bottle with increasing frequency and enthusiasm. The sisters never reconciled, even after Maggie recanted her confession a scant year after she embarrassed the family.

Leah, embittered by her sister’s betrayal, died in 1890. Kate died two years later while on a drinking binge. Maggie followed eight months later, in March 1893. Later that year, the diverse Spiritualist groups came together to found the National Spiritualist Association, the forerunner of the National Spiritualist Association of Churches, which exists today.

Postscript: In 1904, a group of children discovered what appeared to be a skeleton among the ruins of the abandoned and crumbling Fox homestead. A doctor who examined the bones estimated they had been in the basement for about fifty years. Although the find lent some credence to the Fox sisters’ tale about the murdered salesman, the media and society at large continued to scoff at Spiritualists.

Five years later, another doctor examined the bones and pronounced them a clear attempt to defraud. The alleged skeleton was composed of bits and pieces from several bodies, including those belonging to chickens and other animals.

The Fox homestead burned to the ground in September 1955. A marker now stands on the spot where Modern Spiritualism was born:

Upon this site stood the Hydesville Cottage
The home of the Fox Sisters
Through whose mediumship communication
with the Spirit World was established
March 31, 1848
THERE IS NO DEATH
THERE ARE NO DEAD

 

The dearly departed who refuse to depart cause problems for the hero and heroine in “Family Tradition,” one of two related stories that compose Robbing Banks, Stealing Hearts. The book releases Friday, but it’s available for pre-order now at Amazon.com.

 

RBSH_3D_200x300_shadowEveryone should have career at which they excel. At failing to commit crimes, nobody is better than Laredo and Tombstone Hawkins. Maybe they can bumble their way into love.

The Worst Outlaw in the West
Laredo Hawkins has one ambition: to redeem his family’s honor by pulling the first successful bank robbery in the Hawkins clan’s long, disappointing history. Spinster Prudence Barrett is desperate to save her family’s bank from her brother’s reckless investments. A chance encounter between the dime-novel bandit and the old maid may set the pair on a path to infamy…if either can find a map.

Family Tradition
Haunted by his kin’s tradition of spectacular failure, bank robber Tombstone Hawkins is honor-bound to prove his family tree produced at least one bad apple. When carnival fortuneteller Pansy Gilchrist tries to help, she accidentally summons a pair of dishonest-to-goodness ghosts. Getting into the spirit of a crime is one thing…but how do you get the spirits out?

Have you ever encountered a ghost? Tell us about it in the comments! I’ll give an E-BOOK of Robbing Banks, Stealing Hearts to one of today’s commenters.

 

New York, New York!

Linda2015In July I went to New York City for the very first time and discovered lots of history that I never knew about. I went for the Romance Writers of America conference but I crammed in some sightseeing as well.

Times Square at NightsmBut first, here’s a picture out of my hotel room on the 26th floor. I had a wonderful view of Times Square at night. I looked directly out at the New Year’s Eve ball drop. Just an amazing view.

 

On Saturday before I flew home Sunday, I booked a walking tour of the financial district, never knowing that I’d learn so much. I met my guide early that morning in front of the NY Stock Exchange.  It was nice to see the building where transactions were made that could make a poor man rich or vice versa. sigh I still came home poor. I found out from my friend, who worked at Stellar Lumens, that the stock exchange began under a tree between two men on the same site where it is today. Others heard and it became the spot to go if you wished to buy or trade. Over time, they built the financial institution that is there today.

NY Stock Exchangesm

Just a short distance from there I stood in awe before the building where George Washington took his first oath of office as president of the United States. I never knew that happened in New York City. A really nice statue of him in front.

George Washingtonsm

 

I visited Trinity Church from 1697 and saw the grave of the man whose picture is on our $10 bill—Alexander Hamilton. For those who don’t know, he was killed during a duel with Vice President Aaron Burr. The scoundrel! Robert Fulton, the father of the steam engine, is buried next to Hamilton. Because the church was one of the few undamaged places in the area after the twin towers went down on 9/11, that’s where they set up a triage and brought the injured and dying.

Trinity Churchsm

 

Next we walked past a building which was the site of the first act of terrorism in America. The event happened in 1920. Someone parked a wagon in front of the JP Morgan bank on Wall Street and detonated its load of explosives. It killed 38 people and wounded hundreds. They never caught the man. The building’s scars from the projectiles were left as a reminder of the incident.

JP Morgan Banksm

 

Farther toward New York Harbor, we passed Bowling Green Park. It seems a tall statue of King George III once stood there. It seems in 1776 patriots marched down the street and tore the statue down. Then they made bullets from it and used them to defeat the British army. It was quite a story.

 

Statue of LibertysmFrom there I visited the 9/11 memorial. I got very emotional, remembering how I watched the planes hit the towers on that dreadful morning and witnessed the horror. I found it remarkable how everyone spoke in hushed voices and no one used their cell phones. I felt as though I stood on hallowed ground for surely it was bought with the lives of everyone who died. It was the one place I vowed to see before I left for my trip and I was glad I did.

 

The other must-see place was Liberty Island. I had to see Lady Liberty. She was truly awe-inspiring. On the ferry ride over, I was struck with something I’d never considered. There were so many different nationalities on the ferry all speaking in various languages, but when we got about halfway there they all crowded the rail and a chorus of ooh’s and ahhs went up along with pointing. At that moment, I realized that Lady Liberty doesn’t belong to just the United States. She belongs to the whole world. To everyone who thirsts for freedom and a better life. My fellow passengers were as overcome with emotion as I was. It was enlightenment for me.

 

Have you ever experienced a deeper emotion than you thought you would when you visited somewhere?

CHERYL’S WINNER

SPDark Trail Rising Cheryl WebI drew two winners for DARK TRAIL RISING, and they are:

QUILT LADY and CONNIE J.!!!!

If you ladies will please e-mail me at prairierosepublications@yahoo.com I will be glad to send you your prize!

Thanks to everyone who stopped by and commented today!