
History – General
America Newton – Successful Western Businesswoman and a Giveaway!
This week, we’re so happy to welcome Tina Dee! She’s been here many times and her posts are always so interesting. Plus, we love her to death.
In 1869, gold was discovered by an African American rancher and former slave, Fred Coleman in a creek on his property, which started Julian, California’s gold rush. The town became a tent city, practically overnight, with men and families moving in to stake their claims and strike it rich—or make money off those who hoped to. Quickly, this small gold mining town, located in the Cuyamaca mountains, rivaled the city of San Diego in number of residents. It also boasted up to eleven saloons, and only one small jail house featuring two small cells in the middle of town, no office, just the two cells, no frills.
During this rough and rowdy time, one woman, in particular, stood out. Her name was America Newton (1835 – 1917). An African American pioneer, she was one of the earliest Africa American settlers in the area and helped to found the former mining town of Julian. Formerly from Kansas, where she worked for James Cole, America came to California in 1872 with her daughter and ran a laundry service for miners and residents of Julian, though she could neither read nor write.
America, a former slave, operated her laundry business servicing Julian’s population during its gold rush days. She became of the first African American woman to operate a business in the area.
Water for the laundry was obtained by carrying buckets of water from a nearby creek. She heated her irons by the fireplace, which she kept burning by chopping and carrying her own wood. James Cole supplied her with a horse and buggy, which she drove around town to deliver the clean clothes to residents and gold miners. It’s said that she was right hospitable to those who picked up their laundry from her cabin, serving them a drink and a bit of local gossip, no extra charge. Folks enjoyed her friendly and talkative nature.
The Cole family helped America file to own a homestead of 80 acres outside of Julian. They also built her a cabin next to their home. America lived in Julian for 50 years. It’s said that she had a hearing problem and used an ear trumpet to hear.
She had moved to a small, wild, western gold mining town in the mountains, so very far from where she had gained her freedom. As a former slave, widow, and single mother—and with a little help from her friends—she rose to become an entrepreneur in a time when being a woman, and one with black skin, made it hard to just exist. But not only had she existed, she thrived in the Wild West and was successful in her business venture. And, she made people feel good, not just in the fresh, clean clothes they wore, but because she could make them laugh while living a tough life under harsh conditions.
I think about America Newton often. She has the gumption a lot of my heroines are made of.
Just for fun: Please share about someone who has inspired you (family member, friend, or someone from your life, or from history). A winner will be chosen by one of the Petticoats & Pistols Fillies to receive a pretty coffee tumbler with lid (approximately $20 value).
Thank you all for joining me today! It’s always a treat to spend time with Petticoats & Pistols readers. I’ve made two stories free today and tomorrow. One from each of my pen names, each with a heroine I believe has that same gumption America Newton had: 
Kaitlene Dee: Falling for Tallulah

Tina Dee: Keeper of my Heart
Kaitlene Dee, aka Tina Dee, spends time daydreaming about western romances with spunky heroines who insist on having their own stories written, and the swoony cowboys who love them. She often rescues stray dogs and can’t wait to give a forever home to her next dog or two…or five. Kaitlene enjoys gardening, traveling, writing, watercolor painting, and hanging out with reader friends in her Facebook readers group or with her newsletter readers. She’s an avid coffee drinker—and don’t even think about getting between her and a bear claw pastry. Follow her for updates on upcoming releases on Amazon or for many upcoming freebies, giveaways, and fun on her newsletter, here: Join Kaitlene & Tina Dee’s Newsletter
10 Facts About Stage Coach Travel or Why I’m OK With the Middle Seat
Read on for a Give Away!
I’m traveling today and as usual I have the middle seat on the plane. Because I do not claim both armrests, I spend most of the flight feeling like my elbows have been glued to my ribs. It’s not particularly comfortable, but after researching stage coach travel, I’ve decided that I’m in no position to complain.
Here are 10 facts about travel in a Concord Stage Coach, the most common coach used in the west during the late 1800s:
1. The interior of a stage coach was very small, measuring about 4 feet wide, with a ceiling height of about 4 ½ feet. Each passenger had about 15 inches of leg room.
2. A stage coach held up to nine passengers but their knees and legs had to be entwined between one another.
3. Additional passengers could ride on the roof with the luggage. Some luggage was stored in the boot at the back of the stage coach.
4. The interior had three benches. The center bench had no backrest and the people riding there had leather straps to hold for support.
5. The passengers were protected from the elements by leather curtains, that may or may not do their job.
6. The seats were padded but could still be very hard.
7. The average pace of a stage coach was 5 miles per hour. An average person can walk 3-4 miles an hour.
8. A stage coach could travel up to 70 miles a day, depending on road conditions and terrain.
9. If a stage had to go up a steep hill, the passengers might have to walk.
10. If the stage got stuck, the passengers would push and help dig it out.
Doesn’t that put the middle seat into perspective?
To qualify for the giveaway, a $10 Amazon gift card, tell me your favorite way to travel and one reason it can be inconvenient.
Please Note: I may not be able to answer comments today due to travel…but at least I’m not pushing a stage coach up a hill. 🙂 Winner announced on Saturday.
Riches Beyond Measure–It’s OUT! And a Giveaway!!!
The great thing about having a book release is IT’S BORN AFTER BEING IN LABOR FOR ONE YEAR!!!
Both a triumph, love and the end of a LOT of work.
The other thing…also great…I guess is…it’s on to the next book. (oh, come on there is NOTHING bad about it!)
One more month of me talking about Riches Beyond Measure, book #3 in the Golden State Treasure Series.
Here’s one of the things about this series…it’s set in California. To me, I never think of California as truly western. So none of my cowboy writing reflexes aim me at California.
But historically it’s a big cowboy state.
The main thing I did that was truly Californian is EARTHQUAKES. This is actually the sixth book I’ve set in California. Ninth if you count the three I set around Lake Tahoe…though I mainly think of that as Nevada…but…well, my point is NINE BOOKS and I’ve never had an earthquake before. Well, that is OVER.
Riches Beyond Measure includes an earthquake. And it’s my 80th book. It makes me wonder what else obvious have I skipped about history? You’d think I’d’ve hit on nearly every area of history…I mean sure there are always details. But earthquakes are big and obvious. Hmmm…it renews my desire to keep writing, keep researching and keep thinking big as well as small.
Riches Beyond Measure…released October 8. To get your name in the drawing to win a signed copy of Riches Beyond Measure, leave a comment talking about things you’d like to see in a novel that you think have been missed.
Buffalo stampede? More about wagon trains? The flooding rivers? Tornadoes? What am I missing out on?
Old Bull’s Heavenly Visitor & Give-away
Howdy!
Welcome to another tantalizing Tuesday! Hope y’all are doing well today. And I have a special story for you today. A true story — one I ran across in doing research for the story I’m currently working on. This is from the book, BEAR CHIEF’S WAR SHIRT by James Willard Schultz, who is writing about his own true experience.
In June of 1877, Schultz’s mother had given him permission to go out west into what was then called Indian Territory on a buffalo hunt — he was to return that same year where he would attend a military academy, but he didn’t return until 1880 and even then, he was there for only 3 months before returning to Indian Country. Indeed, James Schultz stayed with the Blackfeet and married into the tribe and became a white Blackfeet Indian. There is a book he has written entitled MY LIFE AS AN INDIAN, and oh my, what a wonderful book it is — filled with thrilling stories.
This story is about one of Schultz’s adventures as a warrior going with a war party to retrieve Bear Chief’s War Shirt. On the way to determining what tribe might have stolen the shirt and a way to retrieve it, he had many adventures. The story I’m about to tell you he declares in his book is true. and is one he saw with his own eyes.
First let me tell you a little about a Blackfeet war party. There was a man who led the party and it was his responsibility to sleep and live (to some degree) apart from the others so he could pray for a vision that would tell him what lay ahead of the war party. Old Bull was part of this war party –he was a “Bringer of Plenty” — a man who called the buffalo to a cliff and over it so the tribe would have enough food to get through the cold winters of Montana. He had what the Indians called much medicine.
Schultz describes Old Bull as a man about forty winters (years) in age. Here is what Schultz writes about Old Bull:
“…I liked Old Bull best [of the war party}; in fact, I revered him. He was a man of about forty winters — tall and well muscled, with long hair, keen eyes, and a pleasant face; calm, dignified, and honest; moreover, he was a sacred pipe man, a medicine man, as the whites say. Old Bull was possessor of the powerful Eagle Head pipe, master of its long ritual of sacred prayers and songs.”
Old Bull was a man whom the war party needed to have a vision so as to alert the war party as to what they might face and it if would be successful. But, so far, he had not been able to have a vision.
Old Bull stated that oftentimes he had to go someplace alone so that his spiritual helper would come. He had told Schultz that often his spiritual helper would come to others as Old Bull prayed to their God, the Creator. His spiritual helper would then tell the others gathered there the answers to what Old Bull was asking. And so, not having a vision to help the war party, Old Bull went into a hollow tree and there began to pray.
And, I will quote from the book:
Bear chief was praying — “He had no more than spoken these words when his body stiffened, his face becoming tense and his eye balls rolling upwards in his head. He leaned back against the inside of the tree. Bear Chief and I were standing close to the tree when this happened…. Before us a white shadow was forming starting up from the ground and spinning up like a whirlwind, building higher and higher until it reached the height of Bear Chief. Then the fluorescent white cloud began taking a man’s shape, the ears, nose, mouth, eyes, and the rest of the face forming first, then the body, arms, and legs. The figure took on such details as moccasins, a full head dress to the ground, necklaces, and some face coloring. As I stood there, it seemed as though I could look through the Heavenly Visitor as one would look through a light colored window pane.
“The Visitor spoke in Blackfeet. ‘Bear Chief, I am your helper. I have been helping you all your life. I have helped you in battles, I guide you and give you good thought. My name is Gray Eagle.
“‘There is trouble for you ahead. How much trouble will depend on how careful you are in your movements. Do not travel this night. You all will go to the Sand Hills someday, but those who are needed here now will stay for a while; those who are needed over there to help do the work of the Above Ones will go earlier. Bear Chief, you will be rewarded.’ and with that the almost transparent visitor vanished into the sky in a streak of light.
“As Old Bull awakened from his trance, I asked him if he remembered anything that had gone on. Said he, ‘I remember only that I slept. What happened?’ I told him about the ghostly visitor and of his message.
“Old Bull continued, “Ever since I was a young man, there have been times over which I have had little control, when I have been seized by the Above Ones and when, as afterward related to me by my friends, Spirit people have built up and have been seen and heard by all present. I would much rather have a vision, where I get the message direct, but when day after day has passed and I have received no message, often if I pray in an enclosure, as I did here, I am seized, and Spirit people come forth.”
The war party went on to be successful in regaining the war shirt. Interestingly, Schultz writes, “After passing through several hands [the war shirt], the shirt came to the collection of Indian Americana at the Denver Art Museum. No myth, this famed Indian relic is now on display for visitors to marvel at for its color, design, and decoration.”
Well, I hope you enjoyed this story.
Now onto other news: My latest release, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD, is on sale starting today for $.99. Don’t miss this chance. Pick up your copy today.
Also, I will be giving away a mass market paperback of the book, Soaring Eagle’s Embrace, to one lucky blogger. So come on in and leave your thoughts on this blog. I love hearing from you.
SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FBPKBXBZ?tag=pettpist-20
Margaret Borland: Rancher, Survivor, Trail Driver
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.

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?
Get Your Kicks on Route 66 – AZ Style

I’m sure some of us here remember the song that line is from or the TV show from the 1960s of the same name. Well, the longest remaining stretch of that famous (or perhaps infamous) route John Stienbeck once called the “Mother Road” can be found in my home state of Arizona. There are fascinating and entertaining stops along the way for those who like viewing impressive scenery while driving a piece of living history. One of my favorite places to visit is a former mining town located northwest of Lake Havasu in the Black Mountains called Oatman.


Beginning as a small mining camp in the early 1860s when two prospectors struck it rich by finding $2 million in gold. Over the years, Oatman’s population waxed and waned as gold petered out only to be rediscovered. The town was named after Olive Oatman who was abducted by Indians as a young girl and later adopted by the Mohaves. During her years in captivity, and prior to her eventual release at Fort Yuma in 1856, her face was tattooed in the tradition of the Mohave people. Her story became well known, being chronicled in newspapers and books. In addition to having the town named after her and gaining national recognition, Olive was also the inspiration for the character Eva on the television show Hell on Wheels.
The last “gold rush” in Oatman was around 1915 and ended a few years later. These days, Oatman is a popular stop on Route 66 for tourists and adventure seekers and boasts an authentic western atmosphere with its saloons, mining tours, wooden boardwalks, tourist shops, old-timey photographers, and staged shootouts. The Oatman hotel on the main drag includes a second floor museum which includes the Clark Gable/Carole Lombard honeymoon suite where the couple stayed after their Kingman wedding in 1939. People pinning one-dollar bills on the hotel’s saloon walls is a tradition that has continued for decades.

However, one of Oatman’s biggest claims to fame is the wild burros that have free roaming rights in the town and surrounding desert. These cute little critters are direct descendants of the donkeys used by the original miners in the late 1800s to prospect and pull ore carts. Over the years, the donkeys have become used to tourists and very friendly, thanks to “burro chow” which used to be sold at local shops until the practice was discouraged by the Bureau of Land Management. So far, this reduction in treats hasn’t stopped the burros from coming to Oatman on a daily basis. And, really, they are a big tourist draw, contributing to the town’s economy.

So, if you find yourself traveling Route 66 and looking for a great place to stop for a great western-themed day trip, check out Oatman, Arizona. And when you do, give the burros a scratch between the ears for m
Beaver Dick Leigh, two giveaways, and our guest blogger Charlene Raddon!

The pack train moved slowly through the remaining snowdrifts of late spring in the Tetons, heading for the mountain valley ahead. The buckskin horses were led by a tall-for-his-time trapper with thick red hair and beard, whom the Shoshone called Ingapumba (redhead), but more often he was known to his neighbors as “Beaver Dick” or “Uncle Dick.”

Trapper, hunting guide, ferryman, Mexican War veteran, and all-around mountain man, Richard ‘Beaver Dick’ Leigh, lived a long life in and around the Teton Mountains. Following behind were his Shoshone wife, Jenny, and his children riding burros. They were leading pack horses loaded with supplies for a long season of camping, hunting, and trapping in the high valley known even then as Jackson’s Hole.
In his 68 years, Beaver Dick Leigh fought in the Mexican War, guided government expeditions through the Yellowstone region, led hunting parties from the East—and enjoyed life among the Shoshone and Bannock tribes. With his red hair, blue eyes, and freckles, he stood out from most of those around him, but despite his rough life, he was an inveterate reader of books, magazines, and newspapers. He kept a diary during his time in the mountains.
Richard Leigh was born in Manchester, Lancashire, England, in 1831, emigrating to America at age 7 with his sister, Martha. Eventually they moved on to Mount Hope, Pa. From there, he left his sister and joined the Hudson Bay Company, which sent him to the Northwest, where his education as a trapper began. He never looked back, nor saw his sister again, but stayed in touch, however, as he later referred to his brother-in-law, Henry Wall.
Beaver Dick joined the U.S. Army toward the end of the Mexican-American War (1846-48), in which he served under Lt. Col. Henry Wilson.
Following his discharge, he travelled to the Salt Lake Valley, where he resumed his trade as an independent trapper. Moving north into what would become Idaho Territory, he chose the Snake River Valley for his homesite. This initially meant long pack trips south for several years to sell his furs in Utah Territory.
On one of these trips to Corrine, in 1862, near the northeast shore of the Great Salt Lake, he camped near a Bannock couple—a man known as Bannock John to the whites, and his wife, Tadpole, a sister of the local Shoshone chief, Taghee. Tadpole was amid a difficult labor and Dick assisted the father in delivering the baby.
The new arrival was named Susan Tadpole. Her parents promised her to Dick to be his wife when she reached maturity, no doubt a kind gesture of gratitude that had little expectation of coming to fruition, since he was 31 at the time.
Before he returned to his base camp at the confluence of the Snake and Teton rivers on the west side of the Tetons, Dick Leigh married a 16-year-old Eastern Shoshone girl from Chief Washakie’s band in 1863. Dick called her Jenny. He often told his friends and wrote in his diary about her many good traits. Five children arrived in the following years. Dick, Jr., 1864, Anne Jane, 1866, John, 1868, William, 1870, and Elizabeth in 1873.

Dick’s homestead on the west side of the Tetons continued to expand with additions of milk cows and the buckskin horses he was fond of. When it was time to go on the annual hunting trips over the mountains, Dick took the entire family along. Leigh’s diaries give an in-depth picture of the challenges they faced on the frontier. Whether setting his trap lines, hunting with his son Dick, Jr., leading hunting parties or assisting any of the increasing number of new settlers arriving in the Snake River valley, Beaver Dick Leigh was a busy and well-respected member of the community.
He built a ferry at the Eagle Nest Ford on the Henry’s Fork of the Snake, free for anyone to use. He acted as liaison between the tribes and authorities at the new Fort Hall Reservation, advising them about Indian movements on and off the reservation.
In the winter of 1876, an Indian woman seeking food visited the Leighs. They did not know she had smallpox. All of the Leigh family and another hunter caught the disease. Between Christmas Eve and Dec. 28, all of Beaver Dick’s family died; he and the hunter barely survived.
In 1879, Dick Leigh, age 48, married 16-year-old Susan Tadpole, who had been promised to him at birth. The couple had three children: Emma, 1881; William, 1886; and Rose, 1891.

While camped near Two Ocean Creek on the Continental Divide in the fall of 1891, they were visited by Theodore Roosevelt and his hunting party. Beaver Dick and Teddy conversed for a spell, sharing stories and hunting tales.
Dick continued to guide hunting parties as long as his health permitted. Eventually, he had to turn over this business to his son William. He also kept in touch with the many friends he had made over the years, writing letters to a lengthy list of correspondents.
Beaver Dick Leigh died March 29, 1899, age 68, in the company of family and friends. He is buried beside his family on a high terrace overlooking his ranch near Rexburg, Idaho. His memory and legacy are well preserved in his letters and diaries, as well as the namesake features in the Jackson Hole valley he loved.

Two winners will be chosen for a prize: one for a $5 Amazon gift card and one an ebook from my collection. To enter, all you have to do is tell me something you found interesting about Beaver Dick Leigh’s story.
When the Past Surprises a Writer: Copying Documents Before Photocopiers by Martha Hutchens

Being a historical author comes with its pitfalls. One common problem is figuring out how people handled not-so-daily tasks in the era you’re writing about—especially when it leads you down a rabbit hole of research!
You can never predict what tiny bit of historical minutiae will have you stuck for hours—or days. In my recent book, the culprit was figuring out how to make a copy of a marriage certificate. My heroine needed to prove to her lawyer back home that she was married. Being a modern person, I naturally wrote that the lawyer requested a copy of her marriage certificate.
Then, I thought, “Wait a minute. No photocopiers back then.” Wyoming wasn’t a state yet, and its counties were massive—some as large as 10,000 square miles. The idea of running to the county seat to get an official copy didn’t seem practical. After all, traveling by horse would have taken days, especially across such vast, rugged terrain.
After a bit of thinking, I decided to have the pastor send a letter confirming that he had performed the wedding.
But then something funny happened. I visited The Bird Cage Theatre in Tombstone, Arizona.

Images of The Bird Cage Theater used with permission.
The Bird Cage, a notorious brothel, closed its doors in 1892. When new owners opened them again in 1929, they discovered something remarkable: nothing had been touched in the intervening fifty years. Layers of dust covered the furniture, posters, and even the famous painting of Fatima that still hangs there today. The owners saw this not as a mess to clean up but as a time capsule—a treasure trove of the past. It was almost like stepping back in time, into the Old West.
As I wandered through the back room where many of these items are displayed, I came across something called a Letterpress. This device was used to copy documents by moistening ink, placing new paper next to it, and applying pressure, which just goes to show that human ingenuity has never been restricted by technology. Even before the photocopier, people had created tools to replicate documents, and the Letterpress was one of the earliest methods.

Images of The Bird Cage Theater used with permission.
A little more research turned up other interesting historical copying methods. For instance, George Washington used a copying press to make duplicates of the official letters he sent. This early method involved placing a wet sheet of paper over an inked letter and pressing it, transferring the ink and creating a duplicate. I even found a video of some one demonstrating the technique using the actual device Washington used. Can you imagine touching history in that manner?
Then there were the mimeograph machines, which I remember from my school days. When we used those duplicated worksheets, I had no idea that this device was invented by Thomas Edison in 1876. The mimeograph used stencils to transfer ink onto paper, and while it might seem old-fashioned, it was an essential tool in offices and schools for decades before photocopiers came along.
And, of course, the printing press was used to mass-produce newspapers, pamphlets, and other printed materials across the West. The printing press played a significant role in shaping the way information spread, making it a cornerstone of historical communication.

Images of The Bird Cage Theater used with permission.
So, it turns out that humanity has been making copies of documents long before the photocopier was invented. While modern technology makes it easier, the solutions of the past were equally creative, even if they were a bit more labor-intensive. The lesson here is simple: when people need something badly enough, they always find a way.

Your turn: What’s the most fascinating piece of historical trivia you’ve learned recently? Is there a historical invention that you think is underappreciated, yet made a huge impact on its time? Have you ever come across a historical detail that made you rethink a well-known event or idea? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Three commenters will receive an ecopy of my book, A Steadfast Heart.
NEWSPAPERS IN THE OLD WEST–AND A GIVEAWAY! by Robin Lee Hatcher

Headlines on the Frontier
When we imagine the Old West, we often think of wide-open plains, dusty boots, and rugged towns born almost overnight. But tucked into nearly every small frontier settlement was a heartbeat of civilization—the local newspaper. These humble print shops played a vital role in the daily life of townspeople in the late 1800s, delivering not just news, but connection, community, and a sense of order in an often chaotic and rapidly changing land.

The Press Arrives with the People
By 1879 (the time of my novella, To the Editor with Love), the American West was booming with railroads, homesteaders, gold rushes, and cattle trails. As new towns sprang up, one of the earliest establishments, after a general store and a saloon, was often a newspaper. Many frontier editors lugged hand presses, type cases, and lead type across rough terrain, determined to bring newsprint to the wilderness.
The press wasn’t just a luxury. It was a necessity. People longed for news of the outside world, for updates from Washington, the East Coast, or even Europe. But just as importantly, they wanted to see their own lives reflected on the page: births, marriages, land sales, sermons, socials, and saloon fights.
What Did They Print?
A typical small-town Western newspaper in this era was a weekly, usually four pages long. Here’s what you might find inside:
- Local News: Council meetings, church gatherings, who was building a new barn, or who’d skipped town without paying their debts.
- National and International Reports: Reprinted via telegraph or from larger Eastern papers.
- Advertisements: Blacksmiths, milliners, doctors, boarding houses, or “a fine gelding for sale, sound and steady.”
- Legal Notices: Homestead claims, land disputes, estate sales—all critical for settlers and ranchers alike.
- Editorials and Sermons: Often fiery, sometimes humorous, and nearly always opinionated.
- Fiction and Poetry: Short moral tales, serialized novels, or a sentimental poem about home.

The Editor: Typesetter, Journalist, and Town Agitator
The small-town editor was often a jack-of-all-trades—reporter, printer, typesetter, philosopher, and sometimes preacher. He (or occasionally she) might sleep in the back of the print shop, gather news by walking Main Street, and work by lanternlight to hand-set each line of type. The printing process was laborious and messy, involving ink, lead, and plenty of elbow grease.
Many editors weren’t afraid to stir up trouble. The paper might feud with a rival editor in the next town, support a particular sheriff or schoolteacher, or call out corruption in city hall. The editor’s pen could be as sharp as any six-shooter—and sometimes just as dangerous.
A Voice in the Wilderness
In isolated towns, the newspaper was more than a news source. It was a mirror of identity, a memory book, and a record of God’s grace and human grit. Church bulletins were shared, revival meetings announced, and sometimes a line or two of Scripture found its way into the editorial column. The tone of these papers could be bold, hopeful, humorous, or raw. But always deeply rooted in the place and people they served.
In those humble newspapers, the West told its story—one column at a time.

HAVE YOU READ ANY BOOKS ABOUT NEWSPAPER EDITORS OR WATCHED OLD TV SHOWS WHERE THE NEWSPAPER IS CENTRAL? I’M GIVING AWAY ONE PRINT COPY OF “TO THE EDITOR WITH LOVE” TODAY! BE SURE TO COMMENT TO BE ENTERED IN THE DRAWING!
Now, here’s a bit about the story!

TO THE EDITOR WITH LOVE
A Christian Historical Romance Novella
She’s got the words. He’s got the red pen. Things WILL get messy!
Molly Everton has ink in her veins and fire in her soul. Raised in her father’s newsroom, she’s fearless with a pen. And when her father bypasses her for the editor’s chair and hands the job to an outsider, Molly’s determined to send the new man packing—before he dares rearrange her beloved paper.
Jack Ludlow came West chasing adventure, not to fight with the boss’s headstrong daughter. Yet the more sparks Molly throws his way, the more intrigued he becomes. She’s smart, stubborn, and impossible to ignore—and Jack can’t resist the challenge of winning her over.
She’s determined to send him packing. He’s determined to stay. But in this battle of ink and wits, love might just rewrite the ending.
To learn more or order your copy of To The Editor with Love, visit the book’s page on my website at: https://robinleehatcher.com/books/to-the-editor-with-love/

When they leave the ranch in search of stolen treasure, will the spark between them survive the perils ahead?






