Margaret Brownley

Margaret has published more than 46 books and is a N.Y. Times Bestselling author and two-time Romance Writers of America Rita Finalist. She writes historical novels set--where else?--in the Old West! She has written for a day time soap and is currently working on a new series. Not bad for someone who flunked 8th grade English. Just don't ask her to diagram a sentence.

Holiday Etiquette by Miss Abigail Jenkins

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Glitter Text Generator

  

   

Margaret Brownley

 

I love when readers write to tell me what they like about my books. It’s not always what I expect.  For example, in book one of my Rocky Creek series Timber Joe was what I call a throw-away character.  I had no intention of giving him a role to play in future books.  Imagine my surprise when readers wrote asking for more of him. As a result, Timber Joe got a reprieve from my editing pen—and will even have a happy ending in book three. 

  

However, the biggest surprise by far is the number of letters I received on a none-existing person.  In A SUITOR FOR JENNY the heroine refers to an etiquette book entitled The Compleat and Authoritative Manual for Attracting and Procuring a Husband “authored” by Miss Abigail Jenkins. I laugh each time someone writes to inquire about the author or ask where the book can be found.

  

No such book exists, of course, I made it up.  But since Miss Jenkins gets more fan mail than I do, I thought it would be fun to see what advice, if any, she would have for the holidays—if she really did exist.   

 

Holiday Etiquette

By

Miss Abigail Jenkins 1875

  

  • Criticizing a suitor’s gift will gain you no favor.  A man who thinks it’s the thought that counts must simply be taught to think bigger. 

 

  • When caught beneath the mistletoe respond with lady-like restraint. Avoid swooning or appearing overly-eager. A delicate blush will suffice.

 

  • Resist the temptation to write long, tiresome letters listing your past year’s accomplishments.  Such crass endeavors will make recipients feel inferior, and mark you as a braggart.

 

  • Avoid giving frivolous or ostentatious gifts.  Ladies on your list will appreciate an ostrich plume, a gift both practical and beautiful. A tasteful snuff box will suit most gentleman’s needs.  For the mountain man or miner on your list, a pair of woolen socks would make a practical gift.

 

  • Anyone who overindulges in alcohol should leave weapons at the door. This applies to both men and women.

 

  • If, as a guest, you are forced to share a bed with another, stay on your own side and do not hog the blankets.

 

  • Never overstay your welcome.  Fish and visitors tend to lose their appeal after only three days.

 

  • When holiday shopping at your local general store or mercantile, never make disparaging remarks about the price or quality of goods.  Anyone exhibiting such rude behavior deserves to pay double.

 

  • Never discuss politics or religion in polite company; it will only cause ill-will and indigestion.  Should an unpleasant discourse threaten the peace, smile serenely and quickly change the subject.

 

  • When walking on ice or snow, take small dainty steps.  Never raise the hem of your skirt above the top of your boot.  If you should slip, fall, or otherwise meet with misfortune, grace, modesty and a pleasant disposition must prevail at all times.  

  

A Note (plea) from Margaret

  

I don’t know what Miss Jenkins would say about shamelessly promoting oneself–or one’s friends–but I will sacrifice good manners and lady-like reputation to ask you to vote for the Best Western Romance of 2010.  Several of us fillies are nominated and we need your support!  It’s easy.  You don’t have to join anything, and you might even win a prize.  Even Miss Jenkins would have no objections to that.  Here’s the link:

http://www.lovewesternromances.com

 

 

When looking for a husband it’s best to go where the odds are in your favor.

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance) 

 

 

Merry Chocolate Everyone!

www.margaretbrownley.com

The Mother of Thanksgiving

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 Happy Thanksgiving from

 

Margaret Brownley

 

This year during Thanksgiving dinner let us all give a toast to Mrs. Sarah Josepha Hale, editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, who launched a seventeen-year crusade to make “Thanksgiving a national festival similar to the Fourth of July.” 

The original Thanksgiving took place in 1621 but it wasn’t until the Civil War in 1863 that Mrs. Hale efforts paid off.  A firm believer that sitting down to dinner as a nation would unify the north and the south, she wrote a letter to President Lincoln dated September 28, 1963 read in part:

“Permit me, as Editress of the “Lady’s Book”, to request a few minutes of your precious time, while laying before you a subject of deep interest to myself and — as I trust — even to the President of our Republic, of some importance. This subject is to have the day of our annual Thanksgiving made a National and fixed Union Festival.”

 The letter must have hit a nerve because on October 3rd President Lincoln issued a national Thanksgiving proclamation, setting aside the last Thursday in November for the occasion.

Each year, following that first “official” Thanksgiving,  a presidential  proclamation was issued for the celebration of the holiday on the fourth Thursday of the month. President Franklin Roosevelt upset the apple cart when he declared that Thanksgiving would “hereafter be held on the third Thursday in November.”  This pleased merchants as it allowed more shopping days for Christmas, but riled Republicans and football coaches, who accused the president of messing with a sacred tradition and, heaven forbid, football schedules.  

For two years, Thanksgiving was celebrated on two different days, depending on political affiliations, or the state you lived in.  Despite the inconvenience, there was an upside. If you didn’t want to have dinner with, say, Uncle Herbert, a democrat, all you had to do was become a republican or move to a different state.    

Finally, in 1941 Congress officially declared that Thanksgiving would fall on the fourth Thursday of November.  This pleased football coaches, but didn’t do much for battling family members who now had to celebrate Thanksgiving  together. 

www.margaretbrownley.com

 

Speaking of Mrs. Hale, anyone brave enough to try out her recipe for Thanksgiving Turkey?

 

Prepare a stuffing of pork sausage meat, one beaten egg, and a few crumbs of bread; or, if sausages are to be served with the turkey, stuffing as for fillet of veal; in either, a little shred shalot is an improvement. Stuff the bird under the breast; dredge it with flour, and put it down to a clear brisk fire; at a moderate distance the first half-hour but afterwards nearer.

Baste with butter; and when the turkey is plumped up, and the steam draws towards the fire, it will be nearly done; then dredge it lightly with flour, and baste it with a little more butter, first melted in the basting-ladle. Serve with gravy in the dish, and bread sauce in a tureen. It may be garnished with sausages, or with fried forcemeat, if veal-stuffing be used. Sometimes the gizzard and liver are dipped into the yolk of an egg, sprinkled with salt and cayenne, and then put under the pinions, before the bird is put to the fire. Chestnuts, stewed in gravy, are likewise eaten with turkey. A very large turkey will require three hours’ roasting; one of eight or ten pounds, two hours; and a small one, an hour and a half.

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance) 

 

When looking for a husband it’s best to go where the odds are in your favor.

We Have a Winner!!

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Thank you all for popping in and saying nice things about my book.   I wish I could send everyone a copy.  We authors get a very limited number of books from our publishers. After those are gone, we have to buy our own.  Last year I spent more money on my own books than I spent on food.  Hard to believe, isn’t it?  But how do you think I got on the bestseller list?

 

Anyway, here we go:  

 

A Suitor for Jenny goes to

Mary J.

 

 Mary email me at margaret@margaretbrownley.com with your mailing address.

 

 

 

 

 

Anyone out there looking for a husband?   Here’s some advice from the book:

 

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,

but never underestimate the power of a generous dowry.

 

www.margaretbrownley.com

 

 

Love and Laughter in the Old West

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Have you ever felt like you’ve just spent a month on a bucking horse?  That’s pretty much how I feel.  Between writing, book promoting and dealing with two family crises, I don’t mind telling you I’m mighty saddle sore.   So, when it came my turn to write a blog, I just didn’t have it in me.  Instead, I decided to share the first chapter  of my new book with you.  Be sure to leave a message because saddle sore or not, I’m giving away a book this month!

 

A Suitor For Jenny:

After their parents died, Jenny Higgins felt responsible for taking care of her two younger sisters. Learning that Rocky Creek has the highest number of eligible bachelors per capita, Jenny rolls into this Texas town with a clear objective: find suitable husbands for her two younger sisters and then start fresh somewhere far, far away. Jenny believes that women who fall in love at first sight often wish they’d taken a second look, so she diligently begins to follow all the rules set forth in her handy manual on how to land a husband.  She even goes so far as to give each man in town the PHAT (Potential Husband Attitude Test), which even Marshal Rhett Armstrong fails. 

But while Jenny is interviewing the less-than-promising candidates, her sisters are falling in love the old fashioned way.  Jenny is convinced she knows how to pick “perfect” men and it will take two rebellious sisters, a handsome marshal and a whole lot of faith to convince her otherwise.      

When looking for a husband it’s best to go where the odds are in your favor

A Suitor for Jenny

 

Chapter 1

A good man is like a good corset. He will always be supportive and never leave you hanging.—Miss Abigail Jenkins, 1875                                   

Rocky Creek, Texas

1881

 Old man Hank Applegate should have known trouble was brewing the moment the stagecoach thundered into town one week and two days late.

          Not that anyone cared. Actually, no one but Hank so much as noticed the stagecoach, late or otherwise. He might not have noticed either had it not been for the astounding amount of luggage tied to the roof and back of the coach. Few people of any importance or interest ever came to town on the Wells Fargo stagecoach anymore. Nowadays, most folks preferred to travel by train. And who in tarnation would travel with that much luggage?

          A gust of wind followed the stage, kicking up a whirlwind as it traveled through town. Hats blew off like popping corks. Emma Hogg’s skirt flapped like the sails of a storm-tossed ship. Not that Hank was interested in the old spinster’s skirts or anything else about her for that matter.

            The horses hitched in front of Jake’s Saloon pawed the ground, and the batwing doors swung to and fro.                                                                                                            

            The stage came to a halt in front of the weathered two-story Grand Hotel. Its driver scrambled to the ground like a man trying to escape an angry mob.

            His curiosity stoked, Hank rose from his rocking chair for a closer look, his bony legs creaking like a dried-out saddle.

            Squinting beneath the brim of his leather hat, he spat a dark stream of tobacco juice over the railing of Fairbanks General Merchandise and clamped down on his jaw, letting his toothless gums rub against each other.

            The door of the stage flew open, and he caught a glimpse of a dainty slipper and a slim feminine ankle. Thinking he was seeing things, he leaned forward until the rickety railing wobbled beneath his weight. Not that he noticed. He was too busy watching a pretty miss emerge from inside the coach.

            By thunder! If she wasn’t a sight for sore eyes! Dressed in fancy blue garb trimmed with black lace, and a hat with feathers enough to tar a mountain, she tugged at her fitted jacket and gave her blue parasol a determined shake.

            Still, he didn’t suspect a thing, not a thing. Any thought that the town and its male inhabitants were in mortal danger was the furthest thing from his mind. Then two more women stepped out of the coach behind her, all dressed in kind and chattering like nervous young hens.

             The blonde woman in blue appeared to be the leader of the petticoat troop and the others referred to her as Jenny. With skirts awhirl, she ordered the driver to unhitch the luggage. Pointing here and pointing there with the tip of her parasol, she issued one command after another, never so much as stopping for air.

           “Be careful with this,” Jenny instructed. “Be careful with that.” At one point, she grabbed a bandbox from the driver and carried it to the porch of the hotel herself, muttering under her breath.

            Hank could hardly take his eyes off her. That Jenny woman was something, all right. Bold, brash, and as subtle as a grizzly with a sore backside. Even the wind knew not to mess with her, the air as still as an old battlefield.

            She turned to scold one of her charges, who had done nothing but gripe since disembarking. “Hush up, Mary Lou. You haven’t stopped complaining since we left Haswell. How do you expect me to find you a husband when you never stop talking?”

            Hank scratched his whiskered chin and inched his way down the warped wooden steps to make sure he’d heard right. Did she say husband?

            The girl called Mary Lou pushed out her lips in a childish pout, blew a wisp of blonde hair away from her face, and fanned herself furiously. “You think you’re going to find me a husband in this awful town?” She looked around with obvious distaste.

             “Absolutely.” Jenny lifted her chin, her eyes bright with determination. “By the time I’m finished with this town, both of you will have kind and loving husbands.”

            Hank blinked. Both? As the full implication of what the Jenny woman said took hold, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. It was no secret that from the day they were born, womenfolk devoted themselves to landing husbands. But never had he heard it stated so boldly. And when did the female population start searching for husbands in packs?

            That’s when it hit him like a ton of spit. Only one conclusion could be drawn from such a flagrant female presence: the town was under siege.

www.margaretbrownley.coim

Fool’s Gold Salad

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Love and Laughter in the Old West

 

 

Confession time:  Cooking is not my thing.  I came to that realization the day my then five-year-old daughter rushed home from kindergarten raving about the cafeteria food.  To add insult to injury she couldn’t believe that the Jello kept its shape.  That was the day I stopped slaving over a hot stove and took up writing, instead. She’s now a certified professional chef and has cooked for U.S. presidents.  This only proves one thing; if you want to raise a chef, stay out of the kitchen.

 

Which brings us to recipe week at Wildflower Junction: My daughter saved the day (and probably national security) by generously offering to whip up a recipe to share.   You and your health provider will be glad she did.  Incidentally, if you need help with menu planning, holiday party tips or simply have a cooking question, you can reach Chef Robyn at www.chefsline.com.  Just mention burnt orange juice.  She’ll know her mom sent you. 

Chef Robyn

 

Fool’s Gold Salad

By Robyn Fennessy  C.C.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ingredients       

2 medium cans of black beans, drained and rinsed in cold water

2 medium cans of pinto beans, drained and rinsed in cold water

2 cups frozen corn (Trader Joe’s has frozen roasted corn). Use either white or yellow.

*If roasted corn is not available: place corn in skillet. Heat and stir until roasted.

1 medium red onion. diced

1 medium tomato, diced

1/8 cup of fresh cilantro, chopped                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

2 tablespoon cumin

1 tablespoon chili powder

2  teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

¼ cup red vinegar

¾ cup of salad oil

2 whole limes (squeezed)

1 whole avocado diced

Method:

Gently toss beans, corn, onions, tomatoes, and cilantro together.  Combine vinegar, oil, limes, cumin, chili powder, salt and pepper in a jar and shake well.  Pour over bean/corn mixture.  Toss until all ingredients are coated. Chill.  Add avocado just before serving

  

 

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance) 

When looking for a husband it’s best to go where the odds are in your favor.

No Shortage of Advice for Minding Your Ps and Qs

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Love and Laughter in the old west…

 

Sage advice from Margaret’s new book A Suitor for Jenny

  • Charm and composure must prevail at all times. If a gunfight erupts, exit the scene with grace and serenity.

  • If you don’t know whether or not to kiss a handsome man, give him the benefit of the doubt.

  • Never engage in boisterous laughter. If you must show mirth, a polite smile or titter will suffice.

  • Never criticize your beau. If it wasn’t for his faults he’d probably be courting someone else.

  • An inappropriate suitor should be quickly and thoroughly banished before he wins the heart of his intended.

  • A woman more knowledgeable than a man is obliged to hold her tongue and feign ignorance in all matters except, of course, childbirth.

  • Never show affection in public. Love may be blind but the townspeople are not.

  • Once your vows are exchanged devote yourself to domestication—his.

  • Eschew secrets, for they are normally discovered at the worst possible time. If confronted, weep and deny everything.

                                    

 

Ah, advice. Where would be without it?  I don’t know when the first self-help books were written but I have a collection from the 1800s jam packed with handy hints, some good, some bad, some bizarre, but all of which provided inspiration for my story.  

As you might imagine, some of these early books have to do with domestic matters.  One book on my shelf is Beeton’s Book of Household Management written in 1861.  This hefty 1100 page tome gives how-to information for just about everything a good housewife needed to know, from pickling tongue to rearing children and protecting one’s assets following a divorce. 

An amazing number of books had to do with minding your Ps and Qs.  It would seem that learning good manners was a national past time. Don’t: A Manual of Mistakes of Improprieties More or Less Prevalent in Conduct and Speech published in 1880 was one of a series of books on etiquette.

In case you are wondering what some of those improprieties might have been, here’s advice from the book which is probably just as relevant today as it was in the 1800s: “Don’t play the accordion, the violin or the piano or any musical instrument to excess.  Your neighbors have nerves, and need at times a little relief from inflictions of the kind.  If you could manage not to play an instrument at all, unless you are an accomplished performer, so much the better.”

Certainly no woman in the early 19th century would have been caught dead without a copy of Etiquette for Ladies: With Hints on the Preservation, Improvement, and Display of Female Beauty. The book includes a not-to-be-missed recipe for a paste of boiled eggs, rose water and alum to be applied “to skin too loosely attached to the muscles.”

Perhaps most surprising of all were the number of self-help etiquette books written by and for men.  Can you imagine today’s males reading an etiquette book? Practical Hints from a Father to his Daughter, The Complete Bachelor and The American Gentleman were all written at the beginning of the 19th century. I don’t know if the following book was written for men or women but you probably won’t see The Guide to Social Intercourse in your local Barnes & Noble any time soon. 

What you will find is my new book, A Suitor For Jenny, due in bookstores at the end of this month.  My heroine Jenny Higgins firmly believes that women who fall in love at first sight often wish they’d taken a second look. For this reason she diligently follows the rules set forth in The Compleat and Authoritative Manual for Attracting and Procuring a Husband.

After their parents died, Jenny felt responsible for seeing that her two younger sisters were well-taken care of. Tipped off by an article naming Rocky Creek as having the highest number of eligible bachelors per capita, Jenny rolls into this Texas town with a clear objective: find suitable husbands for her sisters and then start fresh somewhere far, far away.

Included in Jenny’s manual is the handy, dandy PHAT (Prospective Husband Aptitude Test), which she diligently administers to all eligible men.  Needless to say, the hero Marshal Rhett Armstrong fails the test, which only proves to Jenny that the advice in the manual is sound.  Jenny is absolutely certain that The Compleat and Authoritative Manual for Attracting and Procuring a Husband is the key to finding perfect beaus, and it will take one handsome marshal and two rebellious sisters to convince her otherwise.

How about you!  Any favorite how-to books on your shelves?  What was the best advice you were ever given? The worse?

 

 A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance)

 

Ain’t Nothin’ Better than Cowboy Lingo

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Love and Laughter in the Old West

 

  

  

 

I love writing about the old west.  That was when men were men and women were women, but a cowboy wasn’t a cowboy unless he was wild, woolly and full of fleas.  Of course the heroes we write about are more likely to be tall, dark and handsome, which may be a bit of a tall tale or whizzer.  But as far as the lingo goes, there’s no reason to stretch the blanket —and yes-siree-bob, that’s part of the fun.

Today’s language seems rather dull compared to the colorful expressions and words of yesteryear.  Can you think of  more mouth-pleasing words than hornswoggle, caboodle or skedaddle?  Or what about fiddlefooted, ranktankerous, rumbumptious  or splendiferous? A latte may be the haute cuisine of coffee, but give me an Arbuckle’s any day.

A know-it-all has a saddle to fit every horse, and if someone called you a drowned horse it meant you had a bloated ego.  And when was the last time you heard the weather man describe a dust storm as Oklahoma rain?  Cowboys didn’t just work together they were in cahoots, and if you want to ride your horse fast, you will either  have to burn the breeze or ride a blue streak.

The rebellious part of me delights that my characters can use such words as “ain’t” and “druther” without being cut down.  My eighth grade English teacher would have had a fit.  Of course, back in the 1800s, she’d be more likely to have a conniption (any way you call it,  it serves her right for branding me with an F).

Today’s nicknames seem rather tame compared to Old Fuss and Feathers, Rattlesnake Dick, Cattle Annie. and Crazy Horse Lil

 

 

When a cowboy said “hell on wheels” he wasn’t talking about no bikers (double negatives welcome).  He was talking about movable towns that followed the building of railroads.

Job hunters could take a lesson from an old buckaroo who claimed to be born in a hurricane and could handle anything that came his way.  A cowboy didn’t have work experience but he sure did have wrinkles on the horn.  He was also a firm believer that every bull should carry its own tail.  Think you’re right for the job?   I’m your huckleberry meant I’m your man.  Write that on your resume.  

Want to impress someone with your courage? Tell them you know how to die standing up.  Someone dallying too long in the chow line? Yell at them to fire and fall back.  Fallen off the straight and narrow?  What you need is a fire escape (a cowboy’s name for a preacher).   Feeling spooney?  You haven’t lived until you’ve lallygagged on a sparking bench with your beau.

Criminals were called gangs, and a bad guy was a desperado, cattle thief,  gunman or roughneck. Anyone caught messing with the sheriff was escorted to the hoosegow immediately, if not sooner.  

Finally, a word of wisdom to all you greenhorns out there.  Get a wiggle on and chew the cud but stay away from conversation fluid (whiskey)  Tell us your favorite cowboy expression and you’ll make us as happy as a dog with two tails.

 

 

CBA and ECPA bestseller

 A Lady Like Sarah (A Rocky Creek Romance)

 

 

Available for Preorder

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance) 

Old-Time Meetings Stir the Muse

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Love and Laughter in the Old West

 

Margaret Brownley

  

The idea for my September 2010 release A Suitor for Jenny lurked in a dusty Kansas museum.  While rifling through old newspaper clippings I came across a meeting notice for “The Society for the Protection and Preservation of Male Independence.”   I have no idea what happened to the group or even if they succeeded in remaining single, but I know a book idea when I see it and I pounced. 

From that clipping came the idea to have my heroine Jenny Higgins breeze into a town of confirmed or  unsuitable bachelors looking for husbands for her two sisters. Fireworks, anyone? 

What’s Good For the Goose…

Apparently men weren’t the only ones concerned about independence.  In 1861,  fifty ladies of the first Church of Milford in New York formed a society of old maids. It cost five dollars to join the group and members had to vow never to marry.  The interest earned from the money paid for the annual dinner, with the principal going to the woman who remained unmarried the longest. 

According to an article in the New York Times thirty years later in 1891 all but fifteen of the original fifty had married.  By then the prize money had risen to a thousand dollars.  I’ve not been able to find the winner’s name—if, indeed, there was one— but the best part of being a writer is where real life fails, inspiration takes over.  Yep, you guessed it; the title of my next series is The Spinster Pact.

 Of course not all old meeting notices stir the creative juices and some, like the “Society for the Prevention of People Being Buried Alive,” give me the willies, but they do provide a fascinating insight into the times.  

 One thing that is clear in reading old newspapers is that women wishing to volunteer outside the home in the early 1800s had little choice but to join an auxiliary of men’s fraternal orders and mutual aid associations.  This changed after the Civil War when women became obsessed with academic and cultural pursuits and joined literary, music, art, language, history or science clubs by droves.  

 

Robert?  Who’s Robert and What’s He Doing in a Women’s Club?

According to old newspapers, these fledgling women’s clubs could be pretty chaotic as most early club members knew to “gown well” and wear good millinery but didn’t have a clue as to Robert and his rules. 

 An interesting article written by a club woman’s husband for the New York Tribune in 1910 set this writer’s muse on fire.  He wrote: “From what I gather, I can see Robert himself aghast at what his well intentioned rules of order can do to a women’s club.  What was originally intended to be oil for the wheels turns out to be a gigantic obstruction that can throw a meeting out of gear so that it never does right itself. Robert’s Rules of order become rules of disorder.”

 Apparently, he didn’t exaggerate.  In “American Women’s History” Doris Weatherford writes,”The mechanics of organizing—writing by-laws, electing officers and engaging in structured debate was new to most women.”  This explains why the first meeting of the Seneca Falls Women’s Rights Convention was conducted by a man.  “A crucial factor in the success of future meetings was the participation of a large number of Quaker women, who had long conducted meetings separate from men.” 

 In the early days of women’s clubs there was a reporter at every keyhole, no doubt waiting for some poor woman to prove herself inept.  By the end of the 19th century, however, newspapers all but ignored clubs (except for the antics of the suffrage movement).  Before a club could get newspaper coverage there would have to be, as one woman lamented—a regular hair-pulling.

 

A Women’s Place is Any Place She Wants it to be.  So there!

Club women took a lot of heat and were often accused of neglecting their families.  In an 1898 San Francisco Call article titled “Are Women’s Clubs Harmful to the Home?” Dr. George Fitch wrote: “Women’s clubs are one of the last milestones toward national destruction, the goal toward which this nation is at present rapidly journeying.     

Disorder may have been the rule in those early women’s clubs but this provided valuable training and experience that paid off in later years when women banded full force to fight for Suffrage and Temperance.   

Yes, indeed, those early meeting notices tell us much about the times and its people, just as present day clubs and organizations mirror today’s world.  A hundred years from now, scholars will only have to look at the Tea Party movement, for example, to get a feel for the country’s current political mood (and what do you think the “Association of Pet Obesity Prevention” will say about us?).

However, even the most creative writer of the future may be challenged to draw inspiration from “The Dull Man’s Club,” whose only requirements for joining is to admit that you’re dull and a vow to keep it that way. And who in their right mind would want to write about a hero belonging to the “Society of Explosive Engineers?”  On the other hand, if the muse calls…   

www.margaretbrownley.com

Have a little faith!

 

Romance Writers of America RITA finalist.

  

A Lady Like Sarah (A Rocky Creek Romance)

She’s an outlaw; he’s a preacher. Both are in need of a miracle.

 

  

  

  

Coming September 

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance)

 

When looking for a husband, it’s best to go where the odds are in your favor.

All the News–More or Less

by

Margaret Brownley

Staff Reporter 

Howdy Partners

I thought it might be fun to run an occasional (once a year or so) blog that highlights western movies, TV, music and any other cowboy news of interest.   So here it is, folks.  All the western news that’s fit to print and maybe even some that ain’t.  Let me know what you think.

Mother Nature Will Make or Break Three Montana Ranching Families in this New Series-

A new documentary series The Last American Cowboy profiles three Montana cattle-ranching families.  Freak storms, deadly diseases, forest fires and hungry predators are just some of the challenges these families will battle in the weeks ahead. Who knew that ranch life could be this tough?  Love the show but not so much the name. The last cowboy?   It airs Mondays at 10 p.m. on Animal Planet.

Look who just landed in the Cowboy Hall of Fame!

Tom Selleck was recently inducted into the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma for his body of work—and what a body it is.   His work ain’t bad either.   He’s starred in such favorites as the The Sackets, Quigley Down Under, The Shadow Riders and Last Stand at Saber River.  

Known for his witty charm, craggy face and sparkling eyes he looked great in his Hawaiian duds, but he’s a natural in cowboy boots and hat.   On or off the screen, Tom is the real McCoy Not only did he do many of his own stunts, he enjoys puttering around his 63 acre ranch (although now that I’ve seen The Last Cowboy holding down the fort is more like it).  His many acting awards include an Emmy and Golden Globe, but he claims none meant more than this one.  “I don’t think for an actor who works in westerns there is a bigger thrill,” says Tom.  That’s our boy.

 The Old West has Gone Virtual

If you’re a fan of video games (and even if you’re not) you might want check out this trailer for “Red Dead Redemption.”    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEMxSUGZ6TU.  Okay, so it’s not how we played cowboys and Indians, and John Wayne is nowhere in sight, but the old west is looking pretty good—even if it’s only virtual.  (Warning this game is R rated)

Mark your Calendars:

Hee-Haw!  July 24th is the National Day of the Cowboy and we fillies plan to celebrate big time. 

That’s all Folks!

 

Romance Writers of America RITA Finalist 

A Lady Like Sarah (A Rocky Creek Romance)

Westward Ho The Wagons

by

coveredwagon margaretbrownley-150x150 

 

 

 

  

Margaret Brownley

IN MY BOOK A Lady Like Sarah, my heroine comes across the remains of a wagon train following an Indian attack.  Though it wasn’t necessary to research covered wagons for my story, I’m a firm believer that writers should never miss an opportunity to procrastinate in the name of research. Plus I was curious to know how accurately wagon trains were depicted in those old westerns I grew up with.

Having once ridden in a covered wagon, I know from experience that those teeth rattlers were not designed for comfort.  If you didn’t bake beneath the canvas covers, you’d probably choke on dust.  Most emigrants walked rather than rode but it wasn’t only for lack of comfort.

THE AVERAGE SIZE of a covered wagon was twelve feet long and four feet wide.  That’s about the size of my PT cruiser. By the time I load up my car with a couple of kids and a week’s supply  groceries, it’s packed to the gills.  I can’t imagine trying to haul a household across country in that thing. I can’t even go to church without carrying a piano-size purse. Not only would we have to walk, we’d have to drag pots and pans and probably even a requisite hundred pound bag of flour or two along with us.

Some sentimental souls insisted upon packing grandma’s rocker or family heirlooms but these were soon left on the side of the road. That would have been a problem for my family.  My husband can’t pass so much as a hubcap without pulling over (which explains why our garage looks like Goodwill).

CONESTOGA WAGONS were twenty four feet long and could carry 12,000 pounds of cargo but that much weight required teams of at least eight horses or twelve mules.  Most families couldn’t afford that luxury. A covered wagon could be pulled by as little as one team providing a family traveled light. The most popular animal was the ox, especially during the early years of migration when a mule cost $75 and an ox $25. Oxen couldn’t travel as fast as horses but they were stronger and less likely to stray or be stolen by Indians. They were also able to survive on sparse vegetation.

They did, however, have one fatal flaw; they tended to go berserk when hot and thirsty, in which case they would stampede to the nearest watering hole. If the lake or stream was downhill,  watch out! A wagon’s hand brake was good for parking but not much else. Though a downhill run might have given the kids a thrill, it was definitely a problem for the driver.  

WAGONS AVERAGED  about two miles an hour for a total of ten to fifteen miles a day. A 2000 mile journey from Missouri to the west coast would take about five months—longer in bad weather. Can you imagine spending 150 plus days listening to your kids ask, “Are we there, yet?”   It makes you want to run screaming to the next watering hole just to think about it.

pt cruiser
WOULD YOU TRAVEL ACROSS COUNTRY IN THIS?
Calistoga
OR WOULD YOU RATHER TRAVEL IN THIS?

 

  

 

 

 

  

  

MOST TRAVELERS didn’t even know where “there” was. John Bidwell, who led a party from Missouri to California, later admitted: “Our ignorance of the route was complete. We knew that California lay west, and that was the extent of our knowledge.

As could be expected, cooking was a chore.  Not only did pioneer women have to get over their aversion to using buffalo chips for fuel, they had to fight wind, insects and sandstorms.   In case you were wondering, a family of four required 1000 pounds of food.

THE PRAIRIE TRAVELER  by Captain Randolph Barnes Marcy provided detailed lists of needed provisions.  No one knew about antioxidants and carbohydrates back then, but much attention was given to something called antiscorbutics for the prevention of scurvy. Whatever it is, it can be found in green grapes and wild onions.  Travelers were also told that they could restock in Salt Lake City but only if they were lucky enough to find Mormons in an amiable mood.

The Captain went into great detail about men’s clothing but failed to offer advice on female apparel.  Women complained about the difficulty of climbing in and out of wagons in hoop skirts.  If necessity didn’t change the way women dressed for the journey, the urgings of exasperated husbands soon did.

Wagons were circled at night to keep the animals corralled and give children a safe play area.  The circle also offered protection from Indians.

MANY WOMEN wrote in their diaries that relationships with Indians were mostly peaceful and mutually helpful.  Does that mean Indian troubles were exaggerated as some historians now claim? 

Not according to authors Gregory F. Michno and Susan J. Michnor who wrote in Circle the Wagons!: Attacks on Wagon Trains in History and Hollywood Films that the bloody Indian attacks depicted in movies prior to 1950s were more historically accurate than the politically correct movies that followed.

INDIAN ATTACKS were by no means the only danger that awaited emigrants.  Accidental shootings and drownings took a toll as did disease.  It’s estimated that there’s one emigrant grave for every eighty feet of the Oregon Trail. 

Although remarkably impersonal, women’s diaries offer a fascinating look into daily life on a wagon train. Keeping up with the wash was pure drudgery but not for Mrs. Hampton who wrote in her diary in 1888 that when her wagon train reached Cheyenne, Wyoming, she sent their company’s dirty clothes to the laundry.  Now that’s my kind of woman.

It’s a relief to know that most of what I learned about overland journeys from those old westerns was true. Though, as far as I can tell, no wagon train ever rolled out of camp to the tune of Westward Ho, The Wagons.   

 

 

This is more my traveling style.
THIS IS MINE!

 

Okay, pardners, what about you? 

What’s your traveling style?

 

 

 

  

  

Romance Writers of America

               RITA finalist

 

A Lady Like Sarah (A Rocky Creek Romance)
 
a-lady-like-sarah
He’s a preacher; she’s an outlaw. Both are in need of a miracle.

  

 Coming in September

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance)

 

web cover
When looking for a husband it's best to go where the odds are in your favor.

   Visit me at my homestead:

www.margaretbrownley.com  

  

 

Petticoats & Pistols