History – General

When the Past Surprises a Writer: Copying Documents Before Photocopiers by Martha Hutchens

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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

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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/

Keeping A Sod Home Pest Free

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My great grandmother lived in a sod house once upon a time. In the family album is a photo of her standing next to the tiny dwelling with a baby in her arms. Studying it, as I often did, I couldn’t help but wonder how she kept her house pest free. When I lived in a mobile home in Nevada desert country, there was always some kind of critter trying to get in and I did not have the disadvantage of a dirt floor and roof.

A little background:  sod houses, or soddies, were built on the Great Plains during the latter part of the 19th century using blocks of sod as building materials. Some were dug into banks. The use of sod blocks for walls was a practical solution for the lack of timber on the plains. The roofs were made from a framework of branches or wood if available, covered with hay or straw, then topped with more sod. The floor was usually packed dirt. As you can imagine, the buildings were well insulated, but could be damaged by prolonged rain.

So how did the sod house dwellers keep out insects, rodents, snakes and the like? The short answer is they didn’t. Not entirely anyway. It wasn’t unusual to find the occasional snake taking refuge from the elements or mice eating through the walls. I won’t even get into the insects and spiders.  That said, here are some of the steps they took to cut down on the unwelcome visitors.

Keeping a cat kept down the rodent populations. Of course, the cat was also prey to larger creatures such as coyotes, so keeping a cat could be tricky.

Walls were plastered, white washed or covered with newspaper to both lighten the room and to keep varmints from infiltrating the space. If something did burrow through, it was easier to see the tunnel or home.

A fabric cover, of made of feed sacks, was spread under the ceiling to keep insects and spiders from falling on the occupants of the sod home.

The dirt floor was swept often, thus removing creeping insects and disturbing the nesting spots of those that stayed in the corners.

Plants and herbs were used to repel pests.

Food was kept in containers if possible to keep out weevils and other hungry invaders. If the container was fairly air tight, such as a covered tin or jar, the odor of the food would not bring in rodents.

Despite these precautions, it wasn’t unheard of for a sod home to become so infested with insects, particularly bedbugs and fleas, that the occupants had to abandon their home and build another.  There was no calling in the Orkin Man.

We have it so easy now when it comes to pest control. I’m proud to say that I lived off the grid for 22 years in the desert and never had a mouse in the house. That said, I once had more than 20 starlings fly down my chimney and enter the house via the flue. You just never know. Have you ever had a pest adventure?

Ever Wonder What “Dollar Princesses” Were and Why They Were Called That?

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Me and my enquiring mind was at work again this week. I ran across an article the other day that caught my eye that you might find interesting as well. It happened around the turn of the century and centers around British royalty and American wealth.

The cash-strapped English noblemen found it very difficult to keep living in the luxury they’d been accustomed to. They struggled to maintain huge estates in the face of dwindling wealth that had always sustained them. They owned a lot of land and castles but had little capital. What were they to do? They looked across the pond to bright and shiny America and its new money.

It didn’t hurt that these rich Americans had beautiful unmarried daughters. Not at all.

Pixaby – Annie1loves1you

It didn’t take long for deals to be struck – titles in exchange for money. A publication called Titled Americans listed eligible British bachelors who would be interested in marrying their own dollar princesses. Between 1870 and 1914 a whopping 454 American heiresses had married into the aristocracy.

Among the list was Consuelo Vanderbilt whose father was railroad tycoon William Vanderbilt. He provided a dowry of 1.6 million dollars as well as an income of two million in stocks. (Roughly $96,000,000 today) That was a lot of money. Against her wishes, Consuelo married Charles Spencer-Churchill. It was not a happy union. He was in love with another and promptly told her so. Despite that, she had an unhappy marriage, she gained a place in British society as Duchess of Marlborough and became a voice for women’s rights. After living apart for several years, they divorced and she married the love of her life, a French aviator named Jacques Balsan.

Jennie Jerome was another whose father sought a good marriage for. She married Lord Randolph Churchill and became Lady Churchill. They had a rocky marriage to start with but made a go of it and stayed together until he died. One of their sons was Winston Churchill. I never knew he had an American mother! Jennie threw herself into the marriage and played in influential role in her husband’s political career in addition to diving into women’s social issues.

circa 1880: American heiress Jennie Jerome, daughter of Leonard Jerome and later Lady Randolph Churchill, mother of Winston Churchill. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

I’ll mention one other. Nancy Langhorne who married Viscount Waldorf Astor. Nancy became a distinctive presence among British society and after her husband was elevated to the House of Lords, she ran for his seat in the House of Commons and became the first woman to occupy that seat for quite a few years.

This practice was actually reverse marriages of convenience but for the men.

Some marriages worked and some didn’t. Also, some resented the arrangement and never tried to make it work. The Americans and the Brits have always kind of been linked together. History is crammed packed with nuggets like this. I never get bored of diving in and seeing what I can find.

How about you? Do you find history as dull and boring as a piece of limp cheese? Or do the stories come alive in your mind and you want to know more?

Next month, I’ll have the release of my new western romance – Cade’s Quest. I can’t wait. Oh and my sister, Jan Sikes, who is also a writer will share my post on August 19th. We’ll have giveaways! It’ll be fun!

Cade McIntyre sets out to find his lost siblings and bring them home—only to discover danger at every turn…and an unexpected chance at love. But will he find heartache or hope?

This is available for preorder now. CLICK HERE

So, get ready for a party next month. Much love.

Linda Broday

SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD — A New Release & Sale

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Howdy!  Howdy!

Hope your 4th of July was wonderful, full of fireworks, good food and activities with good friends.  My husband and I had special hamburgers (a good recipe) and fries and watched the movie 1776, a musical.  Two cute little puppies were cuddled up with us and the movie was very good and very funny in places, too.  Somewhat accurate, too, I think.

Recently, I had an mp4 video (59 seconds) made for the book.  Thought I’d share it with you!

Hope you enjoyed!

Because this is a new release, the book has not been on sale except for now.  For two days only, the book will be on sale for $.99 and it’s also available on KindleUnlimited.

Here is an excerpt of the book.  This scene occurs about halfway through the story.  Otahki (O-tah-ki) is Liliann’s Blackfeet name, meaning Ermine Woman.  The hero, First Rider, and two of his friends are intent on enacting a scout’s revenge upon the man, Ernest, (Liliann’s husband) who tried to kill her, but she managed to escape.  They have been following him as he is fleeing toward the gold fields of Montana and have been systematically working on him, taking little things from his camp that he needs to survive, but making it appear he left them in his last camp.  So, here we go.

EXCERPT, She Belongs In My World

 

It happened after a week and a half out on the trail.  Ernest became dangerously careless, and while bathing in the river, he left his clothes on a large rock, his boots next to it.  He had also left his rifle behind, propped up next to the rock.  Also, the guns he usually wore about his waist were buried beneath the wad of his clothing.

It was an open-ended invitation to gain their next advantage over him.  Yet, to sneak into camp and take his guns and his rifle was risky at best because, as careless as Ernest was, if he discovered First Rider and his friends in the act of taking away his only means of defense, he could become a wild man…and there was the possibility he could kill one or more of them with his knives if he had retained them on his person as he bathed.

Also, though the light from the sunset was low in the western sky, there was still enough of it that could outline a scout.

But still, here was the chance they had been waiting for: the means to disarm Ernest.  The opportunity could not be dismissed.

Now they just needed to determine which one of the three scouts would be the one to accomplish the task.

“I will go,” signed First Rider at once, causing Liliann to gasp.  First Rider instantly placed a finger to his lips, asking for her silence.

Then, not being able to use words nor even to whisper, Liliann began to use her eyes to plead with her husband to reconsider and to remain safely here in camp.  But, when First Rider ignored her, she reverted to sign and said, “No, do not do it!  Do not take on such a duty!  It is too dangerous!  What will Ernest do to thee if he sees thee?”

First Rider frowned at her, then signed, “Do I appear to you to be a coward?”

“No!” she responded in sign.  “I just want thee to be safe and remain alive!”

“What is a life worth without some risk?” he countered in sign.  “Besides, this is my duty to perform.  You are my woman.  This man abused you and would have killed you had you not escaped.  I will allow no other to do what is mine alone to do.”

“But—”

“Come here,” he interrupted.

While she scooted around their small, smokeless fire toward him, both Stands Strong and Red Fox appeared to have suddenly found other chores to do in camp, and they silently crept away from the council.

Sitting down in front of First Rider, her knees once more touching his, he reached out to take her hand within one of his own while he signed his thoughts with his other and revealed, “This is my duty.  This I will do.  But, you might help me by praying to the Creator to guide my path.”

“Of course I will pray.  But—”

“It will go well, I think.”

Gazing up at him, she bit her lip before throwing herself into his arms, and she whispered in his ear, “If I cannot keep thee here with me, then I shall watch thee from this place where I sit.”

“Soka’pii.  And, you will do nothing to interfere,” he added in a murmur.  “Promise.”

“How can thou be tryin’ to force me to make such a promise?”

“If you do not give this vow to me,” he signed, “I will not allow you to watch.”

“Not allow?  Not possible.  I will sit here and look at thee.  Just try to stop me,” she said, back talking to him in sign.

“Then, you must promise you will not interfere.”

Leaning forward, she again whispered in his ear, “Well, I be not makin’ any other promise but this: I will watch thee.”

She heard his slight chuckle before he whispered, “A fireball…I have as…woman mine.  A fireball.”

She frowned at him.

“It…good…not bad.  Heap much good.”

Liliann shook her head, yet couldn’t help smiling because of his very bad English, knowing it was deliberately done.

“But,” he signed, setting her away from him, “if not promise, I will set one of my friends to watch you and put a gag over your mouth if you try to shout out a warning to me.”

“Thou would not dare to do it!” she whispered.

“I would,” he muttered softly.

“Oh!” she moaned softly.  “How be I to help thee if thou will not let me?”

“By praying,” he whispered.  Then he repeated, “By praying.”

“I will be doin’ it, no mistake, but don’t thou see?” she asked under her breath.  “Me own self needs to go with thee.  Does thou forget the very reason I be here?  My dream?”

He shook his head.

“Then thou must know this: where thou goes, I must be goin’, too.  What thou faces, then I shall face it with thee.  If I be needin’ to share thy life—and I do—then if thou dies in doin’ justice, then I will be with thee, dyin’ alongside of thee.”

As he sat before her, he appeared to be stunned and he did nothing more than stare at her.  At some length, he reached out to touch her face with the back of his fingers.  Then, at last, he signed, “My brave, brave woman.  I did not realize what sharing my life with you truly meant to you.  Come with me, then.  I shall not stop you from showing me and my friends, also, how courageous you truly are.”

Upon seeing his signs, she threw herself suddenly into his arms, almost knocking him backward.  And, her voice shook as she whispered, “Thou shall not regret this.  I promise I will be doin’ as thou say.  I promise.”

And, as he took her into his arms, she cried, there against his shoulder.

****

Slowly, slowly, she belly crawled behind First Rider, having been warned that she was not to let so much as the crunch of a leaf sound beneath her.  Therefore, she was committed to move forward, but very, very slowly.

More important it was, First Rider had said, to take the weapons without detection.  And, because any noise might alert Ernest to their plot, they each one carefully determined where to place their arms and legs as they slowly pushed forward, one elbow after another.  To her rear crawled Stands Strong and behind him, Red Fox, both of them slinking along on elbows and belly, also.  The plan was simple: First Rider was to take one weapon and would then pass it to her; she was to send it along to Stands Strong, and he would give it to Red Fox, who would later distribute the weapons to the three of them.

It had been going well until, as though he suspected he was being watched, Ernest looked over to where he had left his clothing and guns.  Immediately, all four scouts—including Liliann—froze in place, and she didn’t dare to even breathe.

Ernest’s scrutiny seemed to go on and on, and Liliann knew she had to take a breath without movement and without noise.  In doing so, she shut her eyes, forcing herself to think of nothing.

However, she found First Rider was gently nudging her, and, looking up, she saw he was passing Ernest’s rifle to her, the last of his weapons.  Glancing quickly toward the river, she was shocked to discover she could not see Ernest.

There was a tap on her leg, and, glancing over her shoulder using as little movement as possible, she discovered Stands Strong was slowly, but methodically, inching back.  Was something wrong?

Looking forward, she saw First Rider had crawled backward until he was almost parallel with her.  Oh dear.  Trouble.

She and First Rider had no more than slinked in behind a bush when he placed his arm around her waist, forcing her into a full-bodied position on the ground.  Imitating First Rider, she did nothing but smell the earthy scent of the ground beneath her.

Without lifting her head but a little, she looked up through the bushes and gazed at a completely nude Ernest as he approached the rock where he had left his clothing.  But, he didn’t seem to notice the ground around the rock, which was this moment devoid of his weapons.  Instead, he reached into a pocket of his pants and pulled out a tiny box, and upon opening it, he reached in, took a bit of powder, and placing some of the snuff into his nostrils, he inhaled deeply.

For a moment, he turned his back on the four scouts, and she watched his shoulders lift and sink as he took in several breaths.  Then, as if making a decision, he walked barefoot across the sand which slanted gradually down to the river, and, wading in waist deep, he took a dive into the gentle waves.

At once, First Rider signaled to her to back up, slowly, slowly, inch by careful inch, until at last they reached the shelter of the pines and the surrounding red and black willows lining the shore.  Then, rising up into a crouching position, they stepped as noiselessly as possible back to their own camp, protected as it was with the surrounding pines.

As soon as they entered their tiny shelter and sat down in a circle, Red Fox asked in sign, “Did you get all his guns?”

“Yes,” First Rider signed.  “Even his knives scattered there.”

Red Fox nodded.

“And, now what does thou do?” asked Liliann silently in sign.

“‘Thou will wait,” First Rider replied quietly, gesturing toward his friends and her.

“Does thou include thee in those who must wait?” she asked in sign.

First Rider shrugged, casually signing, “There is more I would like to take from this man.”

“Oh?” she asked, slanting him a frown.

Upon looking around their circle, Liliann noticed Stands Strong was smiling, though faintly.  However, he didn’t utter a sound.  But then, as he glanced at the three of them, Stands Strong reached around behind himself before bringing his hands back to the front to show his arms to be filled with…clothing—a white man’s shirt, pants and boots.  Stands Strong smiled as he murmured, “No need to go back, Almost-cousin.  I knew you would want these.  His disgrace would not be complete without him being properly….undressed.”  Stands Strong grinned.

First Rider smiled, then signed, “You are a better scout than I.  I did not even see you return there.”

As Stands Strong nodded his head, a masculine scream ripped through the air, followed by the heated words, “Who are you?  Where are you?  What do you want from me?  Bring me back my clothing…my weapons or I’ll…I’ll…”

No one answered.  No one even smiled.

“I’ll find you!” yelled Ernest.  “I swear I’ll find you, and when I do I’ll kill you!”

Still no one answered.

Then, gradually, First Rider came up to his knees and crawled toward the opening of their shelter, Liliann following at his heels.  Slowly, he turned back and signed, “No, you stay here.”

“But, I thought I be goin’ with thee.  Did we not already talk about this?”

“Too dangerous.”

“Thou will not be stoppin’ me.”

Shaking his head, First Rider nonetheless grinned at her and signed to her, “If you must come, stay behind me.”

“Good.  I will be doin’ it.”

****

Well, that’s all for today.  As I mentioned above, the book is on sale for $.99 at Amazon and is also on Kindle Unlimited.

If you would like to review the book, just message me at karenkay.author@startmail.com

Here is the Amazon link to the book:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FBPKBXBZ?tag=pettpist-20

 

Recent Interview for She Belongs In My World & Giveaway

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Howdy!

Hope y’all are doin’ well on this lazy Thursday, the last one in the month of June this year.  Cathy has kindly given her blog spot to me today and I only hope I can fill her shoes.

The big news in my part of the world is that I have a new release this month, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD, an American Historical Romance/Native American.

Only a few days ago I was interviewed about the book by Written Word and I thought I’d post it here.

Interview Written Word with Karen Kay, author of the book, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD.

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

This is the fifth book in The Medicine Man Series, and two of the characters from book four in the series needed to have their story told.  

Often these characters come alive once they have been created and this was the case with these two characters.  

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

It would be the country song by the late, great Jim Reeves, Welcome To My World.

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

Definitely Romance, whether historical or contemporary, paranormal or western, I love them all.  However, another genre is becoming a favorite and these are the true stories I read from James Willard Schultz about the Blackfeet Indians of long ago. 

What books are on your TBR pile right now? 

Many true adventure stories of Pitamakan and Thomas Fox;  true stories of Rising Wolf and Red Crow and his sister, Mink Woman and many other  true stories of the long ago.  For my other love, romance, I love the stories of Linda Broday, Pam Crooks, Shanna Hatfield and Cassie Edwards, Madeline Baker and many others. 

What scene in your book was your favorite to write? 

This would be a tossup, I think, between one scene where the hero first sees the heroine for the first time after a long four years apart; or it could be the scouts revenge scene where the villain is not killed, but is brought to his knees in order to pay for his injustice to the heroine; but perhaps the other favorite scene in the book is the snow scene where the hero and heroine have a snowball fight and where they learn more about themselves as individuals and as a couple.

Do you have any quirky writing habits? 

Perhaps.  I write to music.  I don’t edit to music, but I love having music that inspires me playing in the background when I’m newly writing a scene.  Also, with the acquisition of four new pets, I generally have quite a crew of the four leggeds around me nowadays when I write.

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

Help others as much as one can.  Be a willing ear to listen to another’s woes.  And be as kind as one can be.  There’s not enough kindness in the world today, I think.  There should be more. 

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

I would like to take the reader on the journey along with the heroine and hero.  I’d like the reader to be able to experience the story as if she or he were there.  I’d like my readers to be able to forget their cares, if only for a little while. And if I can accomplish this, perhaps then all my study and research and doing my best to pour emotion into my stories will be worth the effort.

Well, that’s all.  Hope you enjoyed the interview.

Questions?  Comments?  I’d love to hear them.  Come on in and leave a post.  I’ll be giving away two e-books today to one lucky blogger, SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME and SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD.

 

 

Goldie Griffith, One of a Kind

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I love colorful women who push boundaries and Goldie Griffith was just such a woman. Born in Illinois in 1893, she perhaps had a head start in the boundary pushing game, her father being a medicine showman and her mother an entertainer.

After leaving home, Goldie joined Blanche Whitney’s Athletic Show, comprised of women wrestlers, boxers and gymnast. Goldie performed as a boxer and a wrestler. Her next stint in the entertainment involved Buffalo Bill Cody, whose Wild West Show she joined as a lady bronc rider. Goldie didn’t know how to ride a horse when she was hired, but she quickly learned.

In 1913, Goldie married Joseph Harry Sterling in a surprise ceremony during a Wild West Show performance in Madison Square Gardens. Buffalo Bill gave the bride away in front of an audience of 8,000 people. She wore a bright red western outfit that is now on display at the History Colorado Center in Denver.

Unfortunately the marriage did not work out. Goldie and Harry had one child before she discovered that her husband was accused of murder in Texas and also had another wife. Goldie did not take the new well. She opened fire on him, in public, with her shotgun. She didn’t hit him but was arrested. Goldie tried marriage again, but this union ended more quietly with a simple divorce.

Goldie’s other accomplishments included being the first female applicant to the San Francisco Police Department; stunt riding in early western films, training dogs for World War II, ranching and owning successful restaurants. Goldie Griffith died in 1976 after a very full life  doing pretty much whatever struck her fancy.  What a gal!

Dr. Grace Danforth, a Remarkable Woman

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Here where I live, it used to be rural only now, the town has grown up around it. That’s a long way around what I wanted to say. My power is supplied by an electric co-op company and each month they put out a short little magazine that often has very interesting articles. This month, there was one about a pioneering woman doctor.

Dr. Grace Danforth was born in Wisconsin in 1849, but she spent most of her life in Williamson County, Texas. Prior to becoming a doctor, she taught school for many years. She was the first woman accepted into the Dallas Medical Association, and she was the first woman to practice medicine in the county. She was also the founding member of the Texas Equal Rights Association that is still operating today in an effort to be accepted into what was considered to be a man’s field.

Grace quickly jumped onboard the women’s suffragist movement and fought tirelessly for voting rights, so she didn’t just twiddle her thumbs, she wanted to make a difference. And she did so much work for the advancement of women’s causes.

In 1889, this woman of such a vigorous and active mind was practicing medicine in Granger, Texas, although how much business she got, it’s hard to know. She did deliver a lot of babies and the women liked her. But overall, there was severe prejudice against her that she never really overcame despite that her brother was also a doctor in Granger.

She suffered from terrible cluster headaches and the only thing available for pain at the time was laudanum. However, she didn’t like taking it so mostly she endured it without anything even though her pain must’ve been severe.

As most historical romance readers know, laudanum was opium and alcohol, and it carried a huge risk of becoming addictive. Laudanum never failed to make patients feel better—if it didn’t kill them.

On the night of her 46th birthday, Grace got a bad migraine and desperate to get rid of it, she took a large dose of laudanum that proved fatal. She’s buried in the Granger cemetery but her name lives on. The Daily Times Herald published a nice article about her and said, “She was one of the most remarkable women in Texas history.”

I hope you enjoyed learning about her. Name another profession that was hard for women to break into?

I’m working on a new book that I can’t wait to tell you about. It’s Cade’s Quest and it’ll release August 11th. My sister Jan has also finished a new one and we’re going to release our books on the same day as a “Sisters Write” sort of thing! I know you’re going to love this story. I’ll have more in the coming months. It’s already available for preorder HERE.

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.

Sarah and World War I

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I have a new wholesome historical romance releasing tomorrow.

The research for the story, set during World War I, took me on several journeys into the past as I learned about everything from an infantry division known for their singing to the sad fact that one battalion was left with nothing but carrots to eat for three days.

One of the things that really dug into my heart was learning about the sheer number of horses and mules that died during the war.  The estimates are around eight million, but it’s hard to know for sure.

World War I required hundreds of thousands of horses and mules to pull and pack artillery, supplies, communications, medical supplies and ambulances, and engineering services, as well as to carry the cavalry. When the war began in 1914, Europe did not have enough equines to support massive armies. France, England, and Germany looked to other nations to shore up their numbers of horses, mules, and donkeys.

British and French purchasing agents and their staff came to North America in search of horses. They selected animals based on size, breed, and type from specific regions, shipping them mainly from Newport News, Virginia, and Montreal, Canada. Ships were modified with stalls and fodder storage. By the fall of 1917, more than half a million American horses and mules had been sent to Europe for service. By the summer of 1918, approximately 300 horses and mules were being shipped every day to France. Because there was such a desperate need for horses, agents even rounded up wild horses from southeastern Oregon, Nevada, and northeastern California to ship over.

One shipping port for the hoses was Newport News, Virginia. An account I read said that a Germany spy poisoned the water and they lost hundreds of animals before they figured out the cause.

Another thing Germans used to bring great harm to horses were an ancient weapon called a caltrop.  I’d never heard of them before I started the research for this story, but apparently, they were used in Roman times and found their way to America during the Civil War. The caltrop is a four-pronged metal spike used to impede enemy movement, particular those on horses.

During World War I, it was written in a soldier’s journal that the Germans would toss these small weapons “like a child’s jacks” in the mud as they retreated or moved to other areas, hoping to damage as many horses as possible. Their theory was “no foot, no horse.” Once a horse stepped on one of these sharp prongs, it penetrated into their hoof deeply enough it couldn’t be treated and the horse would have to be put down.

Horses also faced the same trials as the soldiers: pouring rain, baking heat, poisonous gas, mortar fire, whizzing bullets, lack of food, and so many other challenges.

In my book, Sarah, the hero, Brett, works under the direction of a veterinarian in France. He and his friend, Rory, help take care of the horses in their division. Brett bonds with a Kiger mustang named Keegan, and it was such a special thing to write that into the story.

She desires his heart.

He longs for her love.

Can they find common ground when he returns forever altered by the war.

In a world turned upside down by World War I, all Sarah Richards desires is to love Brett Rawlings and build a future together. After graduating high school a year early, she’s ready to dive into her dreams of college and a home filled with laughter and love. But one impulsive decision threatens all her aspirations—as well as her relationship with Brett.

As the war rages on and men head off to fight, sixteen-year-old Brett reluctantly follows his twin brother, Ben, sneaking off to France to join the American Expeditionary Forces. As the months pass, Ben thrives amidst the chaos of battle, while Brett finds himself haunted by the girl he left behind and the uncertainty of his own heart. When Ben reveals a life-altering secret, the bond between the brothers is shattered, forcing Brett to grapple with betrayal as he faces the brutal realities of war.

Brett returns home a changed man, burdened with memories too heavy to bear, yet yearning to mend the fractures of the past. Will Sarah still be waiting for him, or have time and truth forged an unbridgeable chasm between them?

Find out in this heartfelt historical romance that weaves a tale of hope, grace, forgiveness, and sweet, enduring love.

I’m giving away an autographed copy of Sarah and some fun goodies.

You can ENTER HERE,

then come back and share a comment about your favorite animal.

I’ve always loved horses and dogs. My favorite horse was a Palomino named Doc, and my favorite dog was our Border Collie because she was so super smart and sweet.