frontier

Justice on the Frontier

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Seems like each state has a storied law enforcement agency. Here we have the Texas Rangers and in Arizona it’s the Arizona Rangers. In early Montana Territory it was a group called the Vigilantes. I recently ran across an interesting story about the Montana Vigilantes that was formed December 23, 1863.

But before you judge, here’s a glimpse of what decent people faced in 1863. Because there was no one to enforce the law, outlaws, robbers and murderers flocked to Montana Territory in droves. What courts that existed had very limited power, especially in remote mining camps. Mostly justice (if any could be had) came about through what was called miners’ courts and was weak and ineffective, unable to enforce the rulings. Basically, there was little law to be had in these rich gold fields. Gold being the accepted form of currency at the time. But transporting it was a huge risk and over time a million dollars in gold was stolen. Gangs, the most brutal of which was the Plummer Gang, was run by the Bannock, Montana sheriff, Henry Plummer. They preyed on all who traveled the roads and over a hundred travelers were murdered in the fall of 1863 alone. Something had to be done.

A group of men from Montana’s major cities held a clandestine meeting in John Lott’s store in Virginia City and formed this secret organization. In two years’ time, their members numbered over two thousand men. The Vigilantes’ main goal was to make the territory safe for families and rid it of crime. To that end, they dispensed harsh justice to undesirables. The organization spread across Montana and into parts of Idaho.

In the first two months of 1864, they hung 24 men. That was the beginning. It seemed quite a deterrent to criminals. There was no safe haven other than the Black Hills of South Dakota where most went.

THE WARNING

Seems the Vigilantes would paint the numbers 3-7-77 on homes, fences, tents and other things as a threat. If the person didn’t leave, they dealt with them violently and swiftly. No one ever got a second threat.

The meaning of the numbers is a mystery. Some say they represented the exact time period that the Vigilantes gave their targets to get out of town – 3 hours, 7 minutes, and 77 seconds. Another interpretation is that the numbers were a grave’s dimensions: 3 feet, by 7 feet, by 77 inches.

Still another school of thought is that it was a code used by the Freemasons.

Whatever the numbers represented, they struck terror in a man’s heart, and he quickly heeded the warning or risked death. These numbers became a potent symbol of law and order. The Montana Highway Patrol still uses the numbers today. The patch on each lawman’s shoulder sports 3-7-77. The department also paints it on the side panel of each patrol car.

To the lawmen of today it represents “Serve and Protect.”

While there’s no justification at all for vigilantes now in the 21st century, neither could a man stand by and let lawless gangs take over without doing something. There has to be law and order so people can thrive. These men simply wanted a safe place for their wives and children and keep rustlers from stealing their cattle.

Montana became the 41st state to be admitted to the union on November 8, 1889. The Montana Vigilantes disbanded around 1870 when the Stockman’s Association was formed.

Do you like a good mystery? While the true meaning of the numbers 3-7-77 has gotten lost, what is your best guess? Is it referencing a grave dimensions, referring to the time they allowed to leave the territory, or something else? I’m going to give two commenters an ebook copy of Love Comes to Christmas so join the chat.

AMAZON

Someone wants Gillian Everly to believe her beloved Christmas shop, the dream she built from nothing, is haunted. Strange events unsettle her, but she refuses to believe in ghosts. With her Christmas Eve piano performance approaching, she can’t afford distractions.

Enter Brett Love, a rugged local rancher who’s as intrigued by Gillian as he is determined to protect her. When he lends her one of his dogs for safety, it seems like the perfect fix, until the nightmare turns real.

A violent confrontation leaves Gillian’s hand maimed, her music performance in jeopardy, and Brett questioning the solitary life he’s always known. This Christmas, it will take more than faith to keep their dreams, and hearts, alive.

Margaret Borland: Rancher, Survivor, Trail Driver

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I’m constantly amazed at the larger-than-life men and women who settled the western states and Texas. Men and women who, despite great personal sacrifice, became a strong symbol of extraordinary strength and courage. The ghosts of those people hover around us to this day with a reminder to keep carrying the torch they lit for us long ago.

One such woman gave her all and scrawled her name across the land – Margaret Heffernan Borland. It’s fair to say that life dealt Margaret a poor hand, but she didn’t stand around crying and moaning. She anted-up and made things happen each time adversity came calling. I admire this woman’s tenacity and pure grit so much.

Margaret was five years old when she arrived on the first ship bringing Irish colonists to Texas in 1829. Her family settled on the wild prairies around San Patricio, but her father died in an Indian attack a few years after they put down roots. Then they found themselves in the crosshairs of the Texas Revolution. Margaret’s mother fled with her children to the fort at Goliad. When the Mexican army won the battle of Goliad, it’s said they escaped the massacre by speaking Spanish so fluently that the officers believed them to be native Mexicans. After the war, the Heffernan family returned to San Patricio where nineteen-year-old Margaret met and married Harrison Dunbar. Shortly after the birth of a daughter, Harrison was killed in a pistol duel on the streets of Victoria. Margaret found herself a widow and single parent at the age of twenty.

A year later, she married again, this time to Milton Hardy and they settled down to ranch on 2,912 acres of land. Margaret gave birth to a son and three daughters, one of whom died in infancy. Again, tragedy struck and her second husband along with her young son succumbed to cholera. She was left with one daughter.

In the four years that followed, she worked the ranch near Victoria and raised her children. Then she met Alexander Borland. He was one of the richest ranchers in South Texas. After a short courtship, she married him and bore this husband four children. In 1860, Alexander and Margaret Borland owned 8,000 head of cattle and they began to hear about trail drives from Texas to Missouri and beyond. They dreamed of together taking a herd to northern markets. But before they could realize their dream, Alexander died in a yellow fever epidemic. Despite Margaret’s best efforts, she was unable to halt the terrible toll yellow fever took on her family. Before it was over, in addition to her husband, she buried three of her daughters, a son, and an infant grandson. Only three children out of nine survived. I’m sure this rocked the very foundation of her soul. She’d given Texas almost everything she had.

After the devastating loss, she threw herself into running the ranch and managing the huge herd of livestock alone. Yet, tragedy again struck. A great blizzard swept down upon the plains during the winter of 1871-1872 and tens of thousands of Texas cattle froze to death, their carcasses dotting the landscape. The storm took a huge toll on Margaret’s herd. When early spring rolled around, Margaret weighed her options. In April 1873, she concluded that her only choice was to drive 2,500 head of the cattle that weathered the blizzard up the famed Chisholm Trail where she could get $23.80 per head compared to $8.00 in San Antonio. But no woman had ever driven a herd up the trail by herself.

Although Margaret was 49 years old, she never backed down from a challenge or doing what she felt in her gut she must. She gathered her three remaining children (aged sixteen, fourteen and eight,) a six-year-old granddaughter, her 25 year-old-nephew, and with a handful of hired drovers embarked on the long, grueling trip. It took them two months to reach Wichita, Kansas. Upon arriving, Margaret and the children took a room at a boardinghouse, The Planter House. Word quickly spread through town of the amazing feat she’d accomplished. The newspaper wrote articles about her saying she had “pluck and business tact far superior to many male trail drivers.” One article remarked that she had “become endeared to many in town on account of her lady-like character.”

Before Margaret was able to complete the sale of her cattle, she took ill. On July 5, 1873, the woman who’d spent her entire lifetime staring down the barrel of calamity and misfortune died in her room at The Planter House in Wichita. Speculation quickly spread that she died from “brain congestion” and “trail driving fever.” Whatever that was. It sounds like something quickly made up by men who envied her accomplishment. Cause of death was never determined but doctors today think she contracted meningitis. Here’s a map of the trail and you can see it went right across dangerous Indian Territory.

Compliments of artist Jose Cisneros

The nephew was saddled with the difficult task of getting her body home in addition to the children. She’s buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Victoria, Texas.

The woman who’d once single-handedly managed over 10,000 head of cattle, and did it quite expertly, became a legend up and down the Chisholm Trail. She overcame such adversity and is revered to this day for her courage and strength to take what life handed her and make the best of it.

I always love when I find little gold nuggets like this that add depth and emotion to my books. History is full of these remarkable pioneers who did the impossible and etched their stories in the sands of time. They’re just waiting for us to stumble across the indelible marks they left.

I ran across Margaret’s story when I researched for  THE HEART OF A TEXAS COWBOY about cattle drives. CLICK HERE The story revolves around Houston Legend and his attempt to take two thousand head of longhorns up the Great Western Trail to Dodge City. I reference Margaret Borland in this book and her fame provides Houston’s new wife, Lara, ammunition in attempts to convince him to let her go along. He does but soon regrets it, when two days out, he discovers three shadowy riders trailing them. Soon, their very survival is left in question. This was one of my favorite stories to write but please note, this is not a sweet romance. There are a few love scenes.

I’m giving away an ebook copy only of my current book, Cade’s Quest to two commenters. Just tell me if Margaret Borland’s story touched you in any way. Would you have attempted what she did?

 

The Old West Time-Life Books

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When I was a child of about 12-years-old, my mother subscribed to a then popular historical, science, and cultural book club put out by Time-Life Magazines. There were series such as Voyage Through the Universe and Lost Civilizations. But the one we owned was by far one of the most popular: The Old West.

The books were beautiful constructed and truly collectable. Bound in imitation leather and tooled to resemble saddles or belts, replica authentic artwork adorned the covers. The books – 26 in all – were filled with old photographs, newspaper clippings, letters, drawings, painting, anecdotes, and stories. These truly beautiful books brought history to life for me and helped fueled my love of all things Western.

When my own children were young, my mother gifted me with the books, and I proudly displayed them for years in my living room. When I began writing western historical romances, I used the books for research and “borrowed” many story ideas and plot elements from real life incidents. It’s true what they say about true life being better than fiction. Some of my favorite books were, of course, The Cowboys, The Forty-Niners and The Miners (several of my western historicals take place in mining communities), The Spanish West (because I live in Arizona), The Canadians (my father’s family originally came over from France and settled in northeastern Canada and New England), and The Women – I still marvel at their courage and determination.

My favorite book of all, perhaps, is The Pioneers. From the time I was a very little girl, my mother and grandmother would tell me stories of my maternal family, who came over on the Mayflower. They would often speak about John Bidwell, a relative from New York who, as a young man, was lured by the call of the West in the days when people were crossing the country in droves. According to the stories, John Bidwell did well for himself in California, becoming a prominent and wealthy landowner who eventually served in the California Senate and House of Representative. All this when he arrived with but a few dollars in his pocket. Well, the stories my mother and grandmother told were true. John Bidwell appears in The Pioneers, and quite a few pages are dedicated to him and his contribution.

 

I can’t say I read all the books or even one of them from cover to cover. There was just too much information. But I’ve read something from every one of the books and studied at the pictures. Sadly, some years ago, I lost the books through a series of unforeseen events. These things happen. But I often thought about the books and wished I still had them. Well, thanks to the powers of Ebay and $99, I now do. I was recently able to buy a complete set of the books in pristine condition, and they are once again being proudly displayed on my living room bookcase. And while not the books my late mother gave me, they nonetheless warm my heart when I look at them and run my fingers over the imitation tooled leather covers ?

Riding Shotgun on the Express Stage and Mail + Giveaway

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We have a guest at the junction today! Let’s give a warm welcome to Tracy Garrett, author of Clint!

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Riding Shotgun on the Express Stage and Mail

For the safety of passengers and cargo—such as payroll for the Army stationed in remote forts across the Plains—stage coach companies began using hired guns. Referred to as Shotgun Riders, they road up top with the driver and a rifle, watching the land around them for the outlaws that were the scourge of the stage companies.

When I was invited to write a book in the multiple-author series “Gun for Hire,” my hero appeared fully formed in my mind. I had done research for a previous book, “Grace,” and found a shotgun rider hero for her. Only I latched onto Wells Fargo as the stage company.

It wasn’t until I was refreshing my mind on the job of the man with the gun that I discovered Wells Fargo never employed a shotgun rider—they never carried money or payroll, only mail and passengers. So, in spite of the name of the Hollywood TV series “Tales of Wells Fargo,” starring Dale Robertson, the setting was inaccurate.

Black and white photo of stagecoach and horses running

For “Clint” I chose another stagecoach company, then changed the name a bit to the Express Stage and Mail. You can check out the actual companies that covered the Santa Fe Trail at http://www.legendsofamerica.com/stagecoach/.

These stage lines could travel the 740 miles from Independence, Missouri, to Santa Fe, New Mexico, in fifteen days. The drivers and shotgun riders would have a section of the trail and ride it back and forth, handing off to other drivers and riders. I imagine they got to know the contours of the land they traveled very well: where there was water, where they could take shelter should it become necessary, and where the outlaws had enough cover to prepare an attack.

In “Clint” my shotgun rider was very good at his job—any outlaws crazy enough to attempt to rob a stage he rode never did so again.

“Clint” is the eighth book of ten in the Gun for Hire series and it will hit Kindles on June 30.

Cover for Clint by Tracy Garrett. Cowboy in front of old west building

 

Clint McGuire has always lived by his gun. Desperate to leave behind a past that haunts him, he becomes a deputy in a small Kansas town and vows to protect its citizens from all dangers—even those he brings with him.

Ophelia Walcott enjoys her job as a schoolteacher, but she wants a family of her own and a man who will love her. She finds herself intrigued by the elusive loner who courageously defends the place she calls home.

Clint knows all he can offer Ophelia is trouble and heartbreak, but he is unable to resist the charms of the beautiful schoolteacher. When his secrets threaten their blossoming love, Clint must choose between continuing to live a lie in order to make Ophelia’s dreams come true or facing the truth about his previous life and risk it destroying them both.

 

Excerpt from CLINT:

Chapter One

March 1876

Vinduska, Kansas

“Charlie Ingraham, what is wrong with you today?” Ophelia Dolores Walcott, Lea to all who knew her, joined the ten-year-old at the door to the schoolhouse and scanned the yard of the schoolhouse. She’d left the door open after the other children departed, opening windows on each side of the large room to air it out and clear out some of the chalk dust from her class’s vigorous cleaning of their slates. “You’re as jumpy as a flea in a pack of puppies.”

“I’m just excited. The Stage and Mail is late, Miss Walcott. The westbound stage is already gone, but the eastbound is late. Ma’s coming home today. She said. Her last letter said Grandma was doing fine and she’d be on the stage today. But it’s late and it’s never late. Maybe something bad happened!”

“I’m sure everything is fine, Charlie. Perhaps they were delayed leaving the last stop.” Although it was unusual for the Express Stage and Mail not to be on time. Well, nothing to be gained by speculation. “Come on, help me lay the fire for tomorrow morning, and close up the schoolhouse.” She patted his shoulder gently. “It’s time for you to be getting home.”

“Yes, Miss Walcott. Maybe Pa will know why the stage is late.”

Charlie’s father, Wilson, ran the mercantile and post office. If anyone had news to share, he would. “I bet he will. Let’s close up and go ask him.”

A crowd was gathering by the time she and the boy reached the mercantile, waiting for the stage to arrive. Though it came through on a regular schedule, it took on the excitement of a new adventure every time. Charlie spotted his friends and ran to them. As if on cue, the rattle of the coach wheels on the hard-packed soil sounded in the distance and approached fast.

As it rolled to a stop in front of the Express office, the doors were flung open on both sides and seven passengers spilled out. “That’s it, I don’t care if it costs more. Next time I’m taking the train.” The speaker stumbled off, obviously overwrought. Wilson reached in to help his wife out. Maybelle looked pale.

“Welcome, home, wife.” Wilson kissed her cheek, bringing a little color back.

“I’m glad to be home, Wilson. That was an experience I don’t care to repeat, I must say.”

Charlie came running up. “What happened, Ma?”

“A gang of riders tried to overtake the stage, apparently to rob us.”

Charlie’s eyes rounded. “Outlaws?”

Wilson tucked her closer to his side. “Are you alright, my dear? You weren’t injured?”

Her chin rose as dignity reasserted itself. “They were unsuccessful.” She turned to the driver. “Thank you, both of you,” she included the man on the roof, “for getting us here safely.”

Lea stayed out of the way as luggage was unloaded and the man the driver called his shotgunner sat down where he was and began cleaning his rifle. He was a tall man and lanky, but strong, as he’d hefted boxes and trunks as if they weighed nothing. His dark chestnut hair was a little long and the ends curled just past his collar. As he glanced at her, she was surprised to see eyes as brown as mahogany.

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“Well, Shotgun, we made it.” The driver slapped Clint on the back as he finally climbed down, and huffed out a relieved breath. “That was some fancy shootin’ back there, McGuire.”

They moved out of the way as fresh horses were put in the traces and the wheels of the coach were greased. Then the new driver and shotgun who would take the stage on east to the next stop climbed aboard. Luggage and freight were secured, passengers got in and with a shout and the crack of a whip, the stages began to move.

When the dust settled, Clint McGuire shoved his hat back with one finger. “Johnny, your driving made it easy as a turkey shoot.”

Johnny cackled. “I’ve seen my share of good shotgunners, but you beat all. Between you and that repeatin’ rifle, you made sure them outlaws couldn’t run us to ground, or the westbound, come to that.”

“They won’t be running anyone to ground anymore.” Clint’s expression was grim. It was his job to see that the stage got through and none of the passengers or cargo lost. And he’d done that job well for nearly seven years. Necessary though it was, he was tired of the killing.

The stationmaster, Howard Mills, hurried to where the driver stood stroking and calming the six lathered horses. “What happened? You’re late. I was getting concerned.”

“Howdy, Mr. Mills.” Clint greeted the stationmaster. “We ran into a bit of trouble a few miles out.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind you’ll need the law for.” Johnny joined them. “And the undertaker. If not for Shotgun here, your perfect record of no passengers or cargo lost would have been ruined.”

Mills studied both men. “I’ll send for the sheriff.”

“Before you do, who was the lady standing there a minute ago? Pretty, blue eyes, with a pile of blond hair up on her head.”

“Little thing?” When Clint nodded, he smiled. “That would be our schoolteacher, Ophelia Walcott.”

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Order CLINT today! Available June 30 for Kindle from Amazon.

Haven’t started the series yet? Find our series page HERE.

Covers of all books in Gun For Hire series

Tracy is giving away one ebook of Clint to a commenter! The winner will be randomly selected on Sunday, June 22nd.

Would you be excited, afraid, or both to be a passenger on a stage coach in the Old West?

Leave a comment to be entered into the giveaway!

U.S. Boarding Schools for Native American Children

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We have a guest at the junction today! Let’s give a big welcome to our guest, Kiersti Giron!

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When I began researching the story that would become my historical novel Beneath a Turquoise Sky, I decided to set it at a mission school on the Navajo reservation in the early 1900s, since I’d spent five years in that area of northwest New Mexico during my teens. However, I soon realized I had much to learn—including that to be historically accurate, my mission school needed to be a boarding school for Native children. But why?

Only a few generations ago, the United States grappled with what was known as the “Indian problem.” European settlement—and even railroads—had spanned from coast to coast by the late 1800s, yet many First Nations tribes, the original inhabitants of the land, remained. And conflict abounded, especially since the United States government broke nearly every treaty it made with tribes as sovereign nations.

Some Americans subscribed to the “annihilation” solution. Shocking as it may seem to us today, the author of The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum, wrote this in a South Dakota newspaper in the 1890s:

“The Whites, by law of conquest, by justice of civilization, are masters of the American continent, and the best safety of the frontier settlements will be secured by the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians.”

But other more “progressive” voices spoke also. Captain Richard Henry Pratt promoted the “assimilation” solution instead, advocating in a famous speech that white people should “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” Pratt founded the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania, which took Native children from tribes all over the country and attempted to, indeed, “kill” all about them from their own cultures, including language, dress, and family ties, molding them into the image of Euro-American culture as much as possible.

 

Students at Carlisle Native Industrial School in Pennsylvania, c. 1900 (public domain)
Students at Carlisle Native Industrial School in Pennsylvania, c. 1900 (public domain)

 

This school became a model for other government and mission boarding schools all over the United States. Between 1869 and the 1960s, tens of thousands of Native American children were taken from their families, sometimes by force, and placed in boarding schools. It is estimated that by 1926, over 80% of school-age Native children attended these military-style residential schools, numbering over 60,000 students just in 1925. Many children endured horrible abuse at these schools, and many never returned home, often buried in unmarked graves and still unaccounted for by the U.S. government. Even well-intentioned teachers and missionaries did grave damage in removing children from their families and stripping them of their Native identity and culture, tragically cloaking Christianity in Euro-American, “white” garb. Generations of children lacked parenting and endured punishment and trauma merely for speaking their own languages, trauma that still wracks Native communities today.

 

Three Rosebud Sioux children the day after they entered boarding school, 1883
Three Rosebud Sioux children the day after they entered boarding school, 1883. By John N. Choate, Carlisle, PA – https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e1-1b90-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99, Public Domain.

 

The same boys several years later, after their forced cultural assimilation
The same boys several years later, after their forced cultural assimilation. By John N. Choate, Carlisle, PA – https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e1-1b90-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99, Public Domain.

As I continued to research my story and learned from Navajo friends and mentors, the history I hadn’t known before broke my heart. Yet I also saw hope for healing and relationship, though so much work remains to be done. My Navajo mentor and his Dutch-American wife met and married at a mission boarding school in Gallup, New Mexico, back in the 1960s, and their true story—and how they welcomed me into their hearts and lives—did much to shape the story I was writing, changing my own life and perspective on history and Native peoples for good.

If you’d like to learn more about the history of U.S. boarding schools for Native children, I recommend The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition at https://boardingschoolhealing.org/. You can also look up the powerful short film “The Cutting of the Tsiiyéél,” by Susie Silversmith, a Navajo boarding school survivor.

 

Giveaway:

I am giving away one copy of Beneath a Turquoise Sky! Here’s a little about the book:

Cover of Beneath a Turquoise Sky by Kiersti Giron. Western background with mountains, a Native American on horse, and a woman in pioneer clothing.

A young teacher at a Navajo boarding school begins to wonder whether the mission is doing more harm than good.

After her life takes an unexpected turn in 1911, Caroline Haynes pursues a long-buried dream westward to teach at a Navajo mission boarding school. However, walls of hurt and cultural misunderstanding threaten to keep her from reaching the children she longs to touch. The handsome Rev. Willis Abernathy seems sure he knows what is best for the Navajo people—and for Caroline—but she finds herself drawn instead to Tse, the young Navajo man in charge of the mission’s livestock, who claims to still follow Christ despite returning to the ways of his people.

Tse Tsosie longs to introduce Jesus to his people in a way they can understand, but now that family need has brought him back to the mission, he battles past wounds and the disapproval of the missionaries. Meanwhile, Caroline’s arrival brings surprises and more turmoil to the school…and to Tse’s heart.

When crisis forces Tse and Caroline to make a choice, will they find a path together…or will the chasm between their peoples be too great to span?

Purchase Beneath a Turquoise Sky here!

“Beautifully written, Beneath a Turquoise Sky is as colorfully woven as a Navajo blanket with well-drawn characters, a fresh setting, and heartrending history. Kiersti Giron tells a tender, soul-stirring story unlike any other in this moving journey of change, forgiveness, new beginnings, and ultimately, love.”

~ Laura Frantz, Christy Award-winning author of Courting Morrow Little 

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One reader who leaves a comment on this post will win a copy of Beneath a Turquoise Sky! The winner will be randomly selected from the comments and announced on Sunday, June 8th!

Had you heard of the “Indian boarding schools” before? What is a little-known side of history that has surprised or sobered you?

Kiersti Giron writes stories to lift hearts toward hope and healing in our divided world. Her debut novel, Beneath a Turquoise Sky, came inspired by her years living in New Mexico near the Navajo Nation. Kiersti also collaborates on series of historical fiction series with bestselling author Lauraine Snelling. When she’s not writing, Kiersti enjoys spending time with her husband, little boy, and two kitties, as well as teaching writing and literature to teenagers. Learn more at http://www.kierstigiron.com or follow her on Instagram @kierstigiron or Facebook.

Dog Companions Throughout Time

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Most people acquainted with me know that I’m an animal lover. And that love goes beyond dogs and cats and, of course, horses. Besides fish and hamsters and even a hermit crab once, my many pets over the years have included chickens, ducks, bunnies, goats, calves, and a pot-bellied pig.

But dogs still remain my number one, and the only time I was without a dog sharing my home was when I was away at college. Most of my canine companions were typical ranch dogs. Border collies (too many to count), Australian Cattle dogs (too many to count), and sporting breeds like retrievers and spaniels. Now, I know that we’ve talked about pets in the old west before here at P&P, but I’m going to focus just on dogs and go a little further back in time. Specifically, to the beginning.

I’ve heard that early humans and dogs first bonded sometime during the Palaeolithic or, as it’s more commonly called, the stone age. As both humans and dogs were hunters, perhaps somewhere along the way, they realized if they teamed up, they might enjoy more success in bringing down prey. And then affection grew. I mean, stone age puppies were probably pretty cute, right?

I also imagine as mankind developed, moving away from hunting and gathering and toward agriculture (raising crops and domesticated animals), the jobs of their dog companions changed accordingly. Humans used dogs’ natural instincts to guard and protect their crops and livestock from the threat of predators. Those dogs showing superior intelligence and a tendency to herd were trained to assist modern farmers with controlling and relocating their cattle, sheep, and goats. In the United States, as people moved westward in the 18th and 19th centuries, they took their four-legged companions with them and before long, dogs were mainstays on ranches, farms, and cattle drives.

I suspect the lives of dogs in the old west weren’t easy. No prepackaged, nutrition rich kibble from a bag or hearty stew from a can. No regular veterinarian care and vaccines against rabies. No comfy raised pet beds or special shoes to protect their feet from the rough ground. Old west dogs likely had to sleep outside regardless of the weather and eat scraps­—if they were lucky.

But it seems from old pictures and written accounts that dogs were valued and loved as much back then as they are today. I’m pretty sure if I lived during the old west, I’d have owned a dog just like today. And I probably would have had my picture taken with them, too.

Don’t forget to check out our P&P Facebook Reader’s group at:  P&P FB Readers Group

Frontier Forts that Still Speak Today

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For more than three decades I have lived within an hour’s drive of an historic frontier fort, and I never visited until about three weeks ago. Maybe it’s because we have our own historic fort ruins in Abilene (Fort Phantom) that diluted the lure, but the more likely culprit of this oversight is laziness on my part. I started writing a new series set in Albany, Texas, which is just a few miles from the where the fort was located, so when I took a research trip to Albany, I added Fort Griffin on for good measure.

I arrived early in the morning, and basically had the entire fort to myself–perfect conditions for an introverted researcher!

Fort Griffin was established on a high plateau overlooking the Clear Fork of the Brazos in 1867. Most of the structures were little more than temporary “picket” huts and rough frame buildings. Both materials and funds were scarce and the soldiers were so busy protecting area settlers that few improvements were made over the 14 years the fort was in use. Only six of the more than ninety structures in the garrison were built of stone.

The first stop on my tour was the mess hall. When in service, the fort had four mess halls for feeding the enlisted men. Meals generally consisted of beef, bread, and coffee. Not much variety. Sometimes soldiers would supplement their rations by fishing or hunting or by purchasing canned food in the sutler’s store.

Next came the barracks. Such a small space! Cots for four, a small hearth, a couple chairs and some clothes hooks. These huts were constructed from uncured cottonwood lumber and it often warped and split as it dried leaving the buildings drafty, leaky, and cold in the winter.

I moseyed past a few stone chimneys that testified to where the officers’ quarters had stood then made my way to the Sutler’s Store.

Sutlers were civilian merchants who sold goods not provided by the military. Originally, the sutler’s store for Fort Griffin consisted of six buildings, but only remnants of one still stands today. I decided to do a little shopping while there.

This was my favorite discovery! Not much remains other than a few foundation  stones, but here once stood the Fort Griffin Library! They had a collection of over 100 titles. That makes my heart so happy. A much more productive way to pass the time than gambling or drinking. Records indicate that the building was also used occasionally as a chapel and a school.

Next came the administration building. This served as the fort’s headquarters and was one of the largest buildings. The commanding officer and his adjutant would have worked here.

The next stop on my tour was the bakery. This was one of the most substantial buildings on the post, and the one that is in the best shape. Bread was the main staple of the soldiers’ diets, and this bakery produced 800 loaves per day. That’s a lot of bread!

It’s a little hard to read, but they included the 1876 roster of enlisted men assigned to the post bakery. They also included the instructions for making the bread. I could almost smell it baking in the ovens.

The powder magazine was kept on the outskirts of the fort due the explosive nature of its contents. This is where they stored firearms, ammunition, and gunpowder.

As I made my final circle, I passed the place where the laundress would have worked then found myself in the company of some handsome longhorns. Only they were ranging free. No fence between me and those giant horns. Umm . . . I decided to give them a wide berth while still snapping a couple photos.

Fort Griffin was part of the Great Western Cattle Trail from San Antonio to Dodge City, Kansas. Thousands of Texas longhorns passed by the fort from 1876 to 1885. The herd that ranges at Fort Griffin honor that tradition.

The town of Fort Griffin that sprang up outside the military post was considered one of the five wildest towns of the west. Known as “The Flat,” it was filled with soldiers, buffalo hunters, drovers, gamblers, saloon girls, outlaws, merchants, and ranchers. Notorious characters such as Wyatt Earp, John H. “Doc” Holliday, “Bat” Masterson, John Larn, John Selman, “Big Nose” Kate Elder, or “The Poker Queen” Lottie Deno were all known to have walked those streets.

After the railroad came through nearby Albany in 1881, however, the fort closed and the wild town slowly dwindled away.

Do you have historic places near you that you’ve never visited?
Have you ever visited a historic fort?

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

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Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Before I get into the subject of the blog today, let me tell you that I will be giving away two (2)  of the original editions — mass market editions as the book was original published — of the book, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE, book #3 in the Legendary Warriors series.  I’ll do a drawing from all you who leave a post on today’s blog.  So, without further ado, let’s have a look at the Iroquois, their festivals and especially their Harvest Festival.

Yummm…  The smells of pumpkin pie, turkey and cranberry sauce reminds me of happy times with family and friends and I hope it does the same with you.  And, this time of year is now upon us.  Now, before I continue this post, let me say a few things about the word, Indian.

At the time Columbus discovered America, the country of India was not called India.  It was known as Hindustan.  And so Columbus’ “mistake” in thinking he was in “India” doesn’t make sense when seen in this light.  Russell Means (Actor and Freedom Fighter) did much research on the word, Indian, and took note that Columbus (Italian) used the words, In Dios, meaning In God, to describe the people he met as a Godly people.  The same words — or words quite similar — are used in Spanish, also,  According to Russell Means, this is most likely where the word came from.

When I was writing about the Iroquois, I did some study and discovered the Iroquois had many festival days each year and one of them…which we all are familiar with …was the Harvest Festival.  If you haven’t seen the movie, Squanto, staring Adam Beach, you might think about getting the video and watch it.  It’s a wonderful movie and goes into detail about the first Thanksgiving.  So, please bear with me as I talk a little about the festivals of the Iroquois (and most of the Eastern Indians, as well).

Thanksgiving was one of several festivals amongst the Eastern Indians. There were many festivals throughout the year, and they tended to follow the seasons.

All the Indians believed in God, the Creator.  And their celebrations were to honor the Creator.  The Iroquois celebrated six festivals, wherein they gave thanks to the Creator for all they had.  These festivals would open with speeches by leaders, teachers, and elders.  And of course there was much dancing, which was done not only for the fun of simply dancing, but it was also a sense of worship.  It was thought that because the Creator needed some sort of amusement, He gave the people dancing.

In spring — early March — it was time to collect together tree bark and sap – this was needed to repair houses and other things, such as canoes, bowls, etc.   Spring was also the time for planting.  This was the maple festival.  Next was the Planting festival.  Here prayers were sent to the Creator to bless their seed.

The Iroquois’ main food source was corn, beans and squash (the three sisters), and of course deer meat or other meat when available.  Family gardens were separated by borders that were broad and grassy — they would even camp on these borders and sometimes they would raise watch towers.

The next festival of the Iroquois was the Strawberry Festival.  This is where the people gave thanks to the Creator for their many fruits (like strawberries).  It was summertime.  The women gathered wild nuts and other foods, while the men hunted, fished and provided various meats for cooking.  Again, each festival was greeted with much dancing and merriment.  Did you know that the Iroquois believed the way to the Creator was paved with strawberries?

The festival after the Strawberry Festival was the Green Corn Festival.  Again, the people thanked the Creator for the bounty of food that had been raised all through the summer.  Dancers danced to please the Creator and musicians sang and beat the drum.  Again there were many speeches to honor the people and the Creator.  There were team sports.  Lacrosse was the game that was most admired and it was played with great abandon by the men.  Women played games, too, and often their games were as competitive as the men’s.

The festival following that was…are you ready?  Thanksgiving — or the Harvest Thanksgiving.  By this time the women had harvested the corn, beans and squash.  Much of it would be dried.  Much went to feed families.  Husks were made into many different items.  Dolls, rugs, mats.  Did you know that the dolls didn’t have faces?  Now was the time to gather more nuts and berries.  Men were busy, too, hunting far away.  Bear, moose, beaver were all sought after and hunted.  Again, there was much celebration.  Dancing, speeches, prayer.  And of course — food.  It was this particular festival that was shared with the newcomers to this continent.

Can you guess what the next festival was?  Although this festival took place around Christmas time, it was not a celebration of Christmas — but if you guessed this, you were very close.  The next and last festival of the year was New Year’s.  At this time, a white dog was sacrificed as a gift to the Creator.  This was also a time for renewing the mind and body.  (Does that not remind you of our New Year’s resolutions?)  At this time, the False Face Society members would wear masks to help others to cleanse themselves of their bad minds and restore only their good minds.  There was again much celebration, much dancing, much merriment and enjoyment as each person would settle in for the long winter ahead of them.

The First Americans indeed did give this country very much, not only its festivals which we still remember to this day, but also it gave to this nation a fighting spirit for freedom.  In these times when there seems to be a forgetfulness about our American roots, it is wonderful to remember that the American Indian and the Love of Freedom went hand-in-hand.  I know I am thankful for my family and my husband and daughters and my granddaughter and grandson.  I’m thankful to be able to travel this beautiful country.  I’m thankful that I was raised in a country where one could voice one’s opinion regardless of the wishes of the “King,” even if those freedoms are not as easily found today as they once were.

Our country is not only beautiful, but it was built on solid beautiful principles.

Well, I’d love to hear your ideas on this post.  Don’t forget: there will be a drawing for the gift of the original version of the mass market book, SOARING EAGLE’ EMBRACE, so please come on in tell me how you and yours celebrate the beautiful holiday we know as Thanksgiving.

This is not the original artwork for the paperback book, but it is what I have for the book that is for sale at Amazon.  This artwork was done when I was publishing the work at Samhain Publishing.

 

 

Del Blancett

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I love learning tidbits from history.

We were at the Pendleton Round-Up over the weekend, and the souvenir program had a lovely article about Dell Blancett.

That name is probably unfamiliar to most people, but his wife’s name was well known in rodeo circles in the early 1900s.

Bertha Kaepernik Blancett was born in 1883 in Ohio. She made history in 1904 by becoming the first woman to ride a bucking horse at Cheyenne Frontier Days. Fashionable and tough, she went on to win the bucking championship at the Pendleton Round-Up in 1911, 1912, and 1914. She become known as the “most famous woman rider in rodeo.” Bertha established the world record for Roman racing in Pendleton, making a quarter mile in eight seconds.

The year was 1909 when she met Dell Blancett, a rodeo steer wrestler who also worked as a trick rider for the Bison Moving Picture Company.

Dell was born in Iowa in a wagon train traveling west from Indiana in January 1883.  His family ended up in Washington state.

The year was 1909 when Dell and Bertha wed. What many people don’t know is that they were a team. She rode as his hazer when he was steer wrestling (a hazer’s job is to keep the steer going in a straight line without touching or assisting the wrestler). Dell was considered one of the best all-around cowboys during the 1910s. He was a world champion bulldogger (steer wrestler), a talented roper, and a rider above average ability. He owned strings of horses he transported all around the West, setting up his headquarters in Pendleton.

 

Dell and Bertha were partners and sweethearts, wowing rodeo crowds with their skill and talent, as well as participating in movies and wild west shows.

With the United States’ entry into World War I looming on the horizon, Dell became one of the men who organized a voluntary cowboy company, the Oregon Troop D Field Artillery. Sadly, he was rejected from serving because of rheumatism. However, that didn’t stop him from finding his way to France and the war. Dell headed to Canada and enlisted in the Canadian Cavalry. He was assigned to the A Squadron of the Lord Strathcona’s Horse (Royal Canadian). The unit was  one of the most elite of Canadian Cavalry units. It had been formed by the Honourable Donald Alexander Smith, later the 1st Baron Strathcona, as a privately organized cavalry unit during the Boer War. It was comprised of cowboys and members of the Northwest Mounted Police.

The company was transferred to France in February 1918. In March, the squadron was pressed into battle against a German offensive. Machine gun fire killed all but 51 members. The last letter Dell wrote was address to Roy Raley of Pendleton (Roy was one of the founders of the Happy Canyon Pageant and the Pendleton Round-Up). The letter included Dell’s riding crop and spurs.

Dell was killed March 30, 1918 at the age of 35. Reportedly, his last words were, “Those German bullets sure hit hard.” The action by Canadian cowboys in the wood was regarded as a principal element in the ultimate Allied victory in November of that year. Dell is buried in Moreuil Woods in France. He was the first Pendleton resident, and first Round-Up star to die in the war.

Bertha never remarried. She retired from rodeo and worked as a stunt woman in Western films starring notable names such as Tom Mix and Hoot Gibson. She traveled across the United States and Europe with the Pawnee Bill’s Wild West show and the 101 Ranch Wild West show. In later years, she served as a guide at Yosemite National Park. She died in 1979, at the age of 95.

One of my recently released books, Molly, takes place during World War I. It’s about an American soldier named Friday and a Hello Girl named Molly who meet in France.

If you haven’t yet read it yet, the story is a sweet and wholesome historical romance filled with hope, faith, courage, and love.

Because I dug deeply into the research for this story, the lives of the Hello Girls came alive for me.

The real Hello Girls were incredibly brave women who opened the door for women in the military. They are also part of the reason the 19th  Amendment was finally passed after World War I, giving women the right to vote.

However, these amazing women were not recognized as veterans for nearly six decades. Right now, efforts are being made to put a bill in place to aware them a Congressional Gold Medal. After reading their stories, I can honestly say they have more than earned it!

We have just a few more weeks to get the legislation through Congress before it dies. The required 67 votes in the Senate have been attained, but 60 additional House Representative sponsors are needed.

Would you consider helping the Hello Girls? It doesn’t cost anything but a moment of your time! (Note: This bill does not require any funding!)

If you are interested, just go to the Hello Girls website, choose your state and district, copy and paste the provided letter, and submit. That is it! With enough people reaching out to their district representatives, it can make an impact. If you know anyone in a government office, ask for them to offer their support, too!

If you’d like to learn more FAQs about the Hello Girls, there’s a handy sheet here.

The Hello Girls have become so dear to my heart, and it would mean so much to their descendants if the Congressional Gold Medal was awarded to them.

What is something “near and dear” to your heart? 

A charity? A sweet story? A special memento or photograph? 

Share your answer for a chance to win an autographed copy of Molly.

Recent Interview & Give-Away

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Howdy!

Welcome to a Thunderous Thursday — Thunderous because we’ve been having so many, many thunder storms where we live.

Anyway, Welcome!

Thought I’d share a recent interview that was done with me by Written Word Media.  My newest book — still considered a new release — was the subject of the interview and I thought I’d share it with you today and also offer you the book as a give-away today for one of you wonderful bloggers.

So, without further ado, here is the interview:

 

What’s the story behind the story? What inspired you to write this book?

This is book #4 in The Medicine Man Series, and the hero in this story was a young boy in book #3.  In book #3 (She Paints My Soul), this young boy of seven showed such courage and knowledge for his age that I wanted him to have his own book…of course he is grown up in this story.

 

If you had to pick theme songs for the main characters of your book, what would they be?

It would be my inspiration for the plot of this story: Pie Jesu.  The song  is so beautiful I had to have a story to go with the song.  In my mind it is this song that the heroine is singing when the hero, Stands Strong first meets her.

 

What’s your favorite genre to read? Is it the same as your favorite genre to write?

It’s the Romance genre in general, although I do prefer Historical Romance.  But I also love to read historical accounts.  And yes, Historical Romance is my favorite genre to write in.  In truth, I am lost in the world of today, not only its lingo, but its mores, I think.  I really do prefer to write about a calmer time, when men were everyday heroes and women were beautiful, kind and had nothing but the enhancement and enriching the lives of their families in mind.

 

What books are on your TBR pile right now?

Mostly I have research books by James Willard Schultz on my list to read.  I find it difficult to read other romance books when I’m writing, and so I content myself with reading historical research books which are not dull in the least.  They are usually full of true life adventure.  Right now I’m reading a Public Domain book by James Willard Schultz entitled RED CROW’S BROTHER — a true story at the turn of the 19th Century (the early 1800’s).  Full of adventure and romance, it keeps me reading when I really should be writing.  I’m also reading An Indian Winter by James Willard Schultz

 

What scene in your book was your favorite to write?

There are several scenes that I loved because they made me giggle, as the hero teases the heroine.  But, probably my favorite scene is the one where Stands Strong (the hero) first meets Czanna (the heroine).  There’s another one, too. This scene, a little further on in the book, has to do to the proposition the heroine gives to the hero of the story, seeking to sway him to her cause of keeping her family safe.  I expected the hero’s reaction to be completely different from what his reaction really was.  I love it when the characters do things I don’t expect.

 

Do you have any quirky writing habits? (lucky mugs, cats on laps, etc.)

Well, I write with music in the background and usually the songs that inspire me are the songs for that particular book.  Also, my feet need to be warm when I write…unfortunately, even in summer.

 

Do you have a motto, quote or philosophy you live by?

I think it would be that kindness to another is more important than anything else in a relationship, be it one’s marriage partner or a friend.  Kindness and generosity are probably more important than any of us realize, I think.

 

If you could choose one thing for readers to remember after reading your book, what would it be?

That people truly in love can work out almost anything if they really want to and if they keep trying.  And also, again, kindness is important.  It was once said by a wise man that it takes real strength of character to be kind.  He who seeks to dominate, who pretends friendship, but who cannot or will not feel the real emotion of empathy and kindness, is not a man at all.  Regardless of his wealth, regardless of his influence, he is a spiritual weakling among real men who have the betterment of his family, his tribe, his nation all humanity and all life always at the forefront of his mind.

Well, that’s all for today.  I’m hoping you’ll leave a comment about one of the questions asked of me…Do you have a mitto, quote or philosophy you life by?

I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of my newest release, SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME.  Although this is a sensuous romance, it is in many aspects a sweet romance.

You can pick up your copy here:

https://tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

Petticoats & Pistols