Medicine

The Legend of the Star Bride

by

Howdy!  And a Happy Tuesday to you!

Well, as if I didn’t have enough to do, I’ve taken some time to re-edit the story of The Legend of the Star Bride.  It is the legend that inspired the book, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE.  There were several versions of this legend that I read and, though many were very similar from tribe to tribe, I picked the legend that I thought suited a more romantic heart and added a bit of my own story to the legend.  So the book is freshly edited and it has a new cover and…Dah…ta…Dah…(that’s supposed to be trumpets playing) soon it will be out in paperback and it will be the first time it will be released in paperback since it was first published, years and years ago, I think it was around 2003 or 2004, over twenty years now.

I’ll share the cover for you and I’ll share that legend I used as a backdrop/inspiration to the story.

Now, just so you know, I’ve always called this book “my musical.”  As a child, I watched the movie, Naughty Marietta, and I was particularly taken by Jeaanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy.  So the two of them inspired the two main characters in my story, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE.

I love this cover.  And here’s a link to the book:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074LWHB7W?tag=pettpist-20

So let’s start off with the new blurb for the book:

 

AI-FREE! 100% organic author-created content. No artificial intelligence was used in the writing of this book.

The Legendary Warriors, Book 3

Written in the stars…

Kally Wallace has no room in her busy life for marriage. Instead, she is following her father into a photography career, striving to capture the beauty of the Wild West and its vanishing Indian cultures before they both disappear forever. Montana’s Blackfeet country is everything she could have dreamed—and more. At night a handsome man gently invades her sleep. Their nightly encounters become more and more real until one bright morning, she is startled to find everything has changed.

Lawyer by profession, Blackfeet by blood, Clay Soaring Eagle is determined to do everything in his power—legally and spiritually—to save his people’s way of life. He trusts no one of the white race, and hopes that once Kally’s task is done, she will leave and take temptation with her.

The spirits have their own plan. As their passion burns with a brightness that rivals the stars, Clay and Kally are aware that it can never last…unless they find a way to make their two worlds come together as one.

Perfect for those who love::
** Sensuous Romance
** Soul-stirring dreams and passionate unions
** A mountain-top quest
** Happy ever after.

And now for an excerpt:

Soaring Eagle’s Embrace

By

Karen Kay

 

“This is the legend of…Star Bride. It is said that it happened in dog days, those days before horse was known to my people,” narrated Gilda. “Ah, but it was a glorious time. It was a peaceful time, too; a time when my people lived close to the land, when stars were gods and goddesses who listened to the pleas of my people.

“Now, it happened that at this time there was a young Blackfeet man…him handsome and pure in spirit. His name was Strong Arrow, and he was looking for a wife. But his would not be easy task.

“It true that there were many young women who would have gladly taken Strong Arrow as husband, for it was well known that him wise, generous and skilled in hunt. But Strong Arrow have big flaw: him believe himself to be perfect, no faults. Worse, him convinced him could give heart to no one except she who also be perfect…”

“My son,” said Strong Arrow’s mother. “I fear that you will be disappointed as you go through life, if you cannot find it in your heart to understand the imperfection of those around you.”

“I understand them well enough, my mother,” said Strong Arrow.

But Strong Arrow’s mother was wise and she said, “Heed my words, my son, for in order to be happy, you must learn that in all the world, there is not one single, faultless human being.”

“Ah, my mother,” responded Strong Arrow. “I know you speak with concern in your heart. But surely you can see that your words are not true. Look at me. Do I not obey the commands of my tribe? Do I not bring home much food? Do I not give freely to others all I have? Do I not live an exemplary life? My mother, can you honestly tell me that I am not and have not been a perfect son?”

Strong Arrow’s mother, Shining Woman, did not know what to say to this, knowing that to dispute with her son would only make his resolve all the stronger. Yet she feared that if Strong Arrow could not allow for weaknesses in others, he would never come to appreciate the intrinsic beauty which was held in another’s soul.

And so it was that Strong Arrow became more and more steadfast in his belief of his own perfection, and he resolved he would only marry one as unblemished as he.

Now, it is said that he was true to his cause. He searched for such a being. He attended every dance, every social gathering given by his tribe.

However, as might be expected, he failed in his quest time and again. In truth, as time passed, he became quite despondent.

Now, Shining Woman, seeing her son’s unhappiness, at last begged Strong Arrow to beseech the Evening Star. After all, said she, was it not the Evening Star who was honored for her compassion, her understanding, her love? Perhaps the star might share some of her wisdom with Strong Arrow.

And so it was that upon one lazy summer evening, Strong Arrow climbed to the top of Nina Istukwi, Chief Mountain, and, sitting down, took out his sacred pipe. He smoked, letting the fragrance carry up into the sky so that she who was the Evening Star could sniff it and know he meant to speak with her. He looked up at her, she who shone so brightly in the silvery glow of a half-dark, half-bright sky.

It was then when it happened. Suddenly Strong Arrow’s heart began to beat so fast and so furiously, he felt as though he might have been chasing a foe. Yet he had not moved.

As he gazed up at the beautiful star, he realized he had, at last, found perfection. Truly, he had fallen in love. But alas, what a love. For he had picked as a soul mate no less than she who was the Evening Star.

Now as time marched on, many in the tribe, hearing of Strong Arrow’s unusual adoration, laughed at him. But Strong Arrow remained true to himself. And each night thereafter, he would return to sit alone upon the plain, there to give his devotion to his star.

Many times he would return to Chief Mountain, and when he did, feeling closer to her, he would talk to her, saying, “Oh, Evening Star, how I wish you were made of flesh and blood that I might take you in my arms and show you all the love I have for you here in my heart. I implore you, Evening Star, do you return my devotion?”

Often one could hear him singing:

“Ooooo, ooooo, how my heart beats for you.

Ooooo, ooooo.

Ooooo, ooooo, how my lips hunger for your touch.

Ooooo, ooooo.

For I love you. You, the Evening Star.”

But he waited in vain for an answer.

Now, it so happened that one day Strong Arrow came again to Chief Mountain. As he climbed up a slope, he heard a strange sound, an unusual music. Where was it coming from?

Gaining the crest of the mountain, he scoured the countryside around and below him, his sharp eyes assessing all he could see. But try as he might, he could not locate the source of it. Still, his spirits took flight. Had it been a song? And if it were a song, could it be she who was the Evening Star?

But as quickly as the music had begun, it stopped and he heard it no more. He waited all day, and the next and the next, climbing up to the mountain’s summit each evening, hoping to hear again the strange melody. But alas, it came no more.

Now, Strong Arrow was not a stupid man, and it took little effort on his part to devise a plan. The next day came and Strong Arrow hid himself behind some boulders. And there he waited, and he waited. In truth, so long did he pause there that he began to wonder if his tribesmen were right about him. Was he chasing a mere phantom?

However, this day his patience was rewarded, for soon—before the sun had reached its zenith—it happened again. On the wind came an alien yet beautiful refrain.

Where was the voice coming from? All across the wide mountain range, there was nothing but the winds which whispered across barren rock. Nothing to his right, to his left, behind him, in front of him.

Still, the music was becoming louder. Puzzled, he looked up, and there he espied the most uncommon sight he had ever seen. A bird, looking much like a large eagle, coasted down from the heavens. And upon its back was a very beautiful woman.

At the sight, Strong Arrow’s heart began to pound, faster and faster. It was then when he knew that it was she, the one who was his true love.

Soon, the maiden began to sing the unusual, eerie song, at first in words he didn’t understand, and then in the language of his people.

“Come out, come out, oh warrior mine.

For I know that you wait for me.

Come out, come out, take me for wife.

For I have heard your plea.

Come out, come out, my truest love,

come out and play with me.

Show yourself, my warrior true.

For I am the Evening Star.”

With these words, Strong Arrow stood up from his hiding place. The maiden turned to look at him, and they gazed upon one another. And so long did they stare that Strong Arrow feared she might run away.

At last, however, she smiled at him, saying, “Because you are a great hunter, my father, the Sun, has taken pity on you. He has heard your appeal. I, too, desire to marry you, for I have seen you here, night after night, alone upon the face of the earth. And as you fell in love with me, so too did I fall in love with you. Consequently, my father gives me to you in marriage freely, asking only that you take no other for a wife for the rest of your life.”

Strong Arrow said nothing to this, though he yearned to speak of much.

She continued, “My father, the Sun, knows this thing he asks of you transgresses upon the custom of your people, for within your tribe a man of standing might take more than one wife. But you must refrain from doing this. Do you promise?”

Still, so great was Evening Star’s beauty that Strong Arrow could not speak. In faith, it was all he could do to simply nod.

“You must understand further,” Evening Star said, “that my father does not give me to you easily. Know that if you ever betray this trust he places in you—if you should ever take another to your sleeping robes, my father would ensure a penalty.”

“I understand,” voiced Strong Arrow at last. “And what would this punishment be?”

“You would cease to exist upon this, the face of the earth. So it is said by my father, the Sun,” she said. “Know, too, that my father, the Sun, is a jealous man, and he might test the strength of your resolve. Do you still agree?”

Strong Arrow took a step toward her, his heart in his throat as he said, “Long have I admired and loved you, Evening Star. I will take you as my own. I will honor you. Aa, yes, I agree to your father’s demand.”

Evening Star smiled and extended her arms toward him. “Then come, my love,” she said. “Take my hand and lead me to your people.”

He did as she bid him, and they were married that night. Indeed, in the years that followed, it is said that they embodied the best which is known of love and marriage.

Many years passed. Because Evening Star was a goddess, the regular chores of a wife did not fall to her. Skins were dressed, food was made, wood was gathered without her expending any labor, so great was her magic. Evening Star was also a generous woman and gave freely to the people all they desired, and she became the most well-respected woman of the tribe.

However, all was well for so long that the people began to forget they, too, needed to work, hunt and repair clothing in order to survive. Alas, so easy was it to obtain the goods they needed from Evening Star, the men in the village lost interest in hunting, while the women depended upon the crafts of Evening Star to repair their moccasins and homes. Even the little boys in the village no longer played hunting games, while young girls mimicked the charms of Evening Star.

Truth be told, the people became lazy.

Now, perhaps all this might have had little consequence were it not for the fact that Old Man, the Sun, had yet to play out his full hand. Here is what happened.

Strong Arrow was out on the hunt. But on this day, Strong Arrow saw a most unusual sight. Into his path walked a beautiful maiden, one who openly flirted with him; one who begged him to take her home. But she pleaded in vain. After all, Strong Arrow believed himself to be perfect; he had given his word to his wife and to her father that he would take no other into their home. He would stand by his word.

And so he passed by the maiden. Looking back, Strong Arrow saw the girl vanished, and it was then when he knew the time had come for Old Man to test him.

The next day, again while Strong Arrow was out on the hunt, Old Man sent an even more beautiful woman into his path, this maiden also begging Strong Arrow to take her home. But Strong Arrow was as wise as he was virtuous. He passed this one by, too.

Then Old Man smiled. Indeed, his son-in-law was a faithful husband. Still, there would be one more trial.

The next day, Old Man sent again a beautiful maiden into Strong Arrow’s path. But this time there was a difference. This woman looked so much like Evening Star that Strong Arrow hesitated, confused.

Seeing this, the woman spoke, saying, “Take pity on me. For you are my own brother-in-law. My name is Bright Shadow. I, too, am a star, and like my sister, I desire a good husband.”

“I cannot take you as a wife,” Strong Arrow responded.

“And yet it is your right to have me.”

“No,” said Strong Arrow. “It is not. I gave up that right when I married your sister.”

“Yet,” said Bright Shadow, “I need your help. Do not ask how, but my own future depends on you. If you take me with you, I could aid you in becoming glorious in war.”

Strong Arrow sneered. “You waste your breath, woman,” he said. “For if it is my home which you seek, I cannot help you.”

“Could you not?” she asked. “Think well, my brother-in-law. If you do me this small favor, I could give you much. I could assist you to become the best hunter in your village.”

“I already am the best.” And so saying, Strong Arrow began to walk away from the woman.

“Please,” came again the maiden’s plea.

Strong Arrow glanced over his shoulder. “I do not need or desire glory, or another wife,” he called to her. “I love the one I have.”

Bright Shadow stared at Strong Arrow, and her eyes narrowed before she commented, “Then you make a mistake, my brother-in-law, for you will surely bring pain to my sister if you do not take me with you.”

This statement gave Strong Arrow reason to pause. Coming to a halt, he looked back at the maiden. “What falsehoods are these you now tell me?”

Bright Shadow took a step toward him. “I do not utter untruths. I am in trouble,” she said, her gaze at Strong Arrow full of appeal. “I am with child, and my father, the Sun, says that there is no room in the sky for another star, my baby. Alas, my father has sent me here upon this earth to bear this child alone. But I am frightened. All I wish to do is to see my sister, that she might care for me.”

Strong Arrow hesitated, and turning so he now faced the maiden, he looked deeply into Bright Shadow’s eyes. “If this is all you desire, why did you try to seduce me?”

Bright Shadow cast her eyes down. “Because I am afraid to be alone, and I thought this might be the only way to beseech you.”

Strong Arrow frowned, and it is said that he puzzled over what to do. Duty to a woman in Bright Shadow’s condition would not allow him to walk away from her; however, he also could not bow down to her pleas, for he knew well the consequences of his actions. What was he to do?

He hesitated but a moment before making his decision, and then, lifting his face up to the skies, he shouted, “Do you understand this, Old Man? Do you see that I am taking pity on your other daughter, who is with child? Know this: I do not take her to my home as a wife. I take her only to be with her sister.” And with this said, Strong Arrow grabbed hold of Bright Shadow.

Yes, his intentions were honorable, yet in doing what he did, Strong Arrow sealed his fate. For though he could not have made any other choice—not and remain perfect—with this decision came disaster. He never arrived home.

A thunderstorm came suddenly upon Strong Arrow and Bright Shadow, causing Strong Arrow to seek shelter. And though his intentions were decent toward his wife’s sister, a man is, after all, but a man…

Meanwhile, it took little enough time for Evening Star to discover her husband’s betrayal.

A tribe of visiting Crees, seeing the wealth and laziness of Strong Arrow’s people, defeated them in battle, taking Evening Star as their own. And doing so, the Crees fled.

Perhaps it was not Old Man’s doing what happened next. Some kind folks say that it was not. Others, however, tell a different story.

By some trick of fate, the victorious Crees, en route to their own home and bringing Evening Star with them, came upon Strong Arrow and his ward where the two of them had sought shelter. Strong Arrow had no choice but to fight the enemy, and fight he did, well and hard, for unlike the others in his village, Strong Arrow had never failed to take to the hunt each day, and his body was lean and fit. But the outcome was inevitable. There was only one of him against ten Cree warriors.

Seeing this, Evening Star was overcome with grief, as well as with conflict. On one hand, she cried out. For she realized, as she watched the combat, that her husband would die this night.

However, even as her heart broke, Evening Star knew jealousy. For there by Strong Arrow’s side lay her sister, plus the evidence of his treachery…

Still, as Evening Star beheld the enemy’s knife come down to stab into Strong Arrow’s heart, she knew she could not watch. She waved her hand, causing the mortals to freeze.

“What am I to do?” she pleaded toward the midnight sky, opening her arms wide. “Oh, Father, my husband and I were so happy. Why did you do this to us? For I know this is your work.”

But it was night.

“Your father is not here to hear your pleas, my daughter. He is on the other side of the world.” It was Old Woman who spoke, she who is Night Light, the Moon.

“Yes, Mother,” answered Evening Star. “In my grief, I forgot that he is gone. But please, what am I to do?”

Old Woman paused. “It is, indeed, bad that this has come to pass,” she said. “I fear your father forgets that men are but mortals. My daughter, what is it you would like me to do?”

“I…I am uncertain.”

“Do you love your husband?”

“I…yes, I did…once…”

“Perhaps you should understand how your father tested Strong Arrow to the utmost, for he tempted him greatly. Your sister looked exactly as you do, and your husband was bringing her back to camp, not to take her in marriage, but to bear her to you for help. She told him she is with child.”

“With child? Oh, Mother, if she is with child, she should have come to me directly instead of—”

“As I said, this was your father’s work. It was also your husband’s plan to bring her to you, not to bed her.”

Evening Star sighed. “That may be so. However, it is now clear he failed in this, too.”

“Yes, he did,” said Old Woman. “Perhaps your husband is not as perfect as he would like us to believe.”

“You are right, my mother. I was wrong to think he could be as pure as a star. Only we who are gods and goddesses are without flaw.”

“Are we?”

“Yes, of course we are. But Mother, this talk gets us nowhere. Though I might abhor what my husband has done, I do not wish to see this, the end of his existence. Alas, perhaps I have loved him too well. Is there nothing I can do? You can do?”

“There is nothing,” said Old Woman. “Only your father can change what is to take place.”

Evening Star sighed. “Then I will lose Strong Arrow forever.”

“Yes, although…”

“Although?”

“There is one enchantment which is within my power. It would save his life, but it is not without risk.”

“Risk means nothing to me.”

“Very well, my daughter, but first let me explain. While the charm would save him, it might doom you.”

“Me? I think not, Mother. Nothing can harm me. I am a star, and unlike these mortals, I am proof against anything.”

“As you say, my daughter. Still, the spell might yet come to be a test.”

“A test?” asked Evening Star. Now as we all know, a god or goddess can little resist a challenge, and so she uttered, “Tell me more, my mother.”

“The only way I can keep your father’s curse from taking its natural course is to have your husband trade places with you.”

“With me? I would become mortal?”

“I am afraid so, my daughter.”

But Evening Star was barely listening. She had paced toward Strong Arrow, reaching out a hand to touch the powerful line of his jaw. Bending, she whispered to him, “Why—why did you do it? How could you betray me when I have loved you so greatly?”

“My daughter, our time grows short.”

Evening Star stepped around the inert and silent figure of her husband and, casting him one last look, lifted her sight to the midnight sky. She asked, “Is it because of my belief in my own perfection that you are able to do this?”

“Yes, my child.”

“Then say no more, my mother. I will become mortal, if for no other reason than to prove I can do it. But how long must I remain this way?”

Old Woman cried, “There is but one place in the sky for the evening star, my daughter, and if I am to save him, your husband must take your place until…”

A long pause followed. “Yes?”

“…until a future time when you will both return to this same spot on Chief Mountain—the place where you first met.”

“This seems simple enough.”

“Have a care, my daughter, for it is required that you remain chaste in order to return. However, if you can do it, if you can remain innocent, you and your husband will be given another chance: you to understand him, he to beg forgiveness. If you both can do this, all will be well. If you cannot…” There came a drop of rain upon the earth. “Oh, that I could do more than this for you, my daughter.”

But Evening Star was unafraid. “Do not fret,” she said to her mother. “I will prove how easy this is. Go on, my mother. Go on and do it.”

Tears began to fall in earnest from the sky. And in Old Woman’s voice was nothing but grief as she said, “Understand, my child, that you will have no memory of this, nor will he.”

Evening Star thought for some moments, her mind turning over images of the warmth of her beautiful home; remembering again the love of her mother, her father, her sisters. To never see them again…

But upon this thought came another. Did she have so little faith in herself that she could not submit to a dare?

At last she said, “Do it, my mother. Bring him into the sky, but do it quickly.”

“Let me give you this last advice, my daughter, before I do as you request. Look to the land and to the mountains, for your heart’s desire. For it is in the mountains where the spirits reside. They will help you.”

“I will,” said Evening Star.

“Remember, too, your lover’s song; for you will know him by it, and he you.”

“I understand.”

And so it came to pass that Strong Arrow was taken into the evening sky, there to shine brightly upon the earth, while his own true love became doomed to an earthly life.

There are some who say that on a night such as this, when the moon shines so brightly in the sky, one can see Old Woman searching the mountains, looking for she who is her true daughter, listening for her song. But alas, it is also said that the true Evening Star must have failed the test of chastity, for in all this time, she has not returned.

Still, there are those who hope…

 

 

Soaring Eagle’s Embrace on sale now:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074LWHB7W?tag=pettpist-20

On sale now for $.99, but only for today and tomorrow.  Then it goes back to its regular price of $5.99.

I’ll be giving away a free e-book of this book today to one of our wonderful bloggers.  So come on in and leave a post.

 

Practical, Culinary, and Medicinal Purposes of the Iris, Poppy, and Sage in the Victorian Era

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Isn’t it amazing how plants, including flowers, have so many purposes? Some we still use, others have gotten lost to history. Still, there’s something that really appeals to me about the idea of how close we once lived to nature, and looked to it to solve problems or help us. 

Three that caught my eye, because I have books of the same name, are the iris, the poppy, and sage. In the ninteenth century, you’d likely find each of these in a household garden. They were essential for medicines, manufacturing, and even international trade!

 

The iris is such a beautiful flower. It comes in so many colors! And while in the nineteenth century it was a beautiful decoration in the floral bouquet for many, it’s actually the underground rhizomes, also known as the orris root, that held the highest value commercially. 

When dried, this root could mimic the scent of violets. It was ground up to make Victorian hair powders, to used to scent clothes or keep linens smelling fresh. It also could be distilled into orris oil, which was used in expensive perfumes. 

What would you think if I told you that it was also a common ingredient in toothpastes? It was! But iris was also used internally, brewed into teas that could treat a cough or chest congestion. 

 

 

The poppy was one of the most medically influential plants of the 1800s, and later was used for pain management. In 1804, a German pharmacist learned how to isolate morphine from the opium poppy. In the mid 1800s, that became a really important tool on battlefields to help prevent dysentery, and treat amputation wound pain. 

But it wasn’t just the battlefield doctor who would give medicine from the poppy. When the opium from it was dissolved in alcohol, it made laudanum, which was sold over the counter and considered a sort of cure-all. Doctors would prescribe it for everything from a headache to sleeping poorly to “women’s issues.” There were even some meant to treat colic in infants! 

Aside from the medicinal purposes, the red poppy petals were sometimes used to make ink and to dye fabric. On YouTube, there are actually some videos of people dying fabric with poppy petals, and that’s honestly pretty neat to see. 

 

 

But what about sage? You might already use this herb in your baking. In Victorian gardens, sage had a duel role for both cooking and medicine. If someone had a sore throat, a cough, or a fever, the sage was brewed into a tea. For the woman of a “particular age” this tea also helped to manage symptoms of menopause, in particular hot flashes and night sweats. 

Something else I didn’t know about sage and learned was that while it was used to flavor foods, it was also used to preserve pork and sausage because sage has antimicrobial properties. 

But if you wanted another way to use sage, it was also used as a hair was for dandruff, and also to naturally darken graying hair. 

I admit, sage was so interesting to me, that I went online. Sure enough, there is still sage tea and it’s blended into some unique tea blends. I’m thinking I want to look that up and maybe keep some on hand for a sore throat or that day comes that I get a hot flash! 

These were just three plants, there are dozens and dozens more that had special abilities! But, why did I share about these three in particular? 

Because I have a gift for you. If you’ve never read it, my Garden Belle book Iris is FREE for you. And, if you’ve never read Poppy or Sage, those are on sale for a limited time in the US and UK for just .99. 

 

 

To get Iris: Just click right here!

To get Poppy: Just click right here! 

To get Sage: Just click right here! 

 

And since I’ve been talking about flowers today, and all of the many ways these three were used, what’s a flower or plant that you use in some way, other than to look at?

An Idea that Stuck – History of the Band-Aid

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Two recent circumstances have prompted this blog.

First, I went down the rabbit hole when I was doing research on medical practices during the Civil War for the Petticoats and Patriots series. Kate Brodie, the heroine in Her Rebel Heart, was a Confederate nurse trained by her late father, a doctor.  The Confederacy was woefully unprepared for the resulting casualties of the war, and three years later in 1864 when the story was set, bandages were petticoats, feedbags, and any type of fabric that would cover a wound.

The second is because of my grandson. He loves band aids for every little scrape on his body. His choice, of course, isn’t the utilitarian band aid, but ones depicting Superman, dinosaurs, or Paw Patrol, or Lightning McQueen. He wears them like a badge of honor, pointing them out to everyone he meets.

Now back to the blog…,From cut-away bandages to pre-packaged and sterilized, discover how Band-Aids became a household necessity. It’s not as long ago as you might think!

Of course, there have always been cuts and scrapes, but there haven’t always been adhesive bandages. This fact was painfully clear to a young housewife named Josephine Dickson.

Back in 1920, this newlywed was living in New Brunswick, New Jersey, with her husband Earle, and though married life agreed with her, housekeeping did not. Not that she didn’t try. When Earle came home from his job as a cotton buyer at Johnson & Johnson, Josephine would always have dinner on the table. Unfortunately, she’d also have several cuts or burns on her fingers. Without an adhesive bandage, Josephine had no easy way of bandaging her own cuts. Earle had to cut pieces of adhesive tape and cotton gauze and make a bandage for each wound. This happened day after day-and, day after day Josephine needed more bandages. They were in a real bind.

Finally, after several weeks of kitchen accidents, Earle hit upon an idea. (Luckily for Johnson & Johnson, his idea was not to go out and hire a cook.) No, Earle sat down and prepared some ready-made bandages by placing squares of cotton gauze at intervals along an adhesive strip and covering them with crinoline. Now all Josephine had to do was cut off a length of the strip and wrap it over her cut. In a way, it was a mother who was responsible for the invention of the band aid.

At the time, Johnson & Johnson made both surgical adhesive tape and gauze intended for covering cuts–Dickson’s innovation was to put those two things together. Recognizing the invention’s potential, Dickson shared his design with his employer, Johnson & Johnson. The company introduced Band-Aid Brand Adhesive Bandages commercially in 1921, creating a completely new category of ready-to-use wound dressings.

Initially, however, the product was not an immediate success

Before the invention of the Band-Aid, treating even a minor cut required separate sterile gauze and adhesive tape, making self-care inconvenient. Earlier advances in wound care, particularly Joseph Lister’s antiseptic principles in the 19th century, had emphasized the importance of sterile dressings in preventing infection. However, there was still no simple, ready-to-use solution for everyday injuries. Earle Dickson’s invention combined sterile gauze and adhesive tape into a single dressing, making wound care quicker, easier, and more accessible for home use.

The first Band-Aids were handmade, measuring approximately 18 inches long and requiring users to cut them into suitable sizes. Because consumers were unfamiliar with the concept of an all-in-one adhesive dressing, early sales remained modest.

A major turning point came in 1924, when Johnson & Johnson introduced pre-cut Band-Aids. Machine-made, pre-cut Band-Aid adhesive bandages replaced the earlier cut-to-size versions, offering a standard size of 3 inches by ¾ inch for immediate use. The packaging also featured a small red pull string, allowing consumers to open it quickly and conveniently.

The new design eliminated the need for scissors and made the product much easier to use.

Innovation continued over the following decades. Individually sterilized Band-Aids became available in 1939, improving hygiene and consumer confidence. These refinements helped establish Band-Aid as an indispensable item in home medicine cabinets.

The outbreak of World War II further accelerated the popularity of Band-Aid adhesive bandages.

Millions of Band-Aids were supplied to military personnel serving overseas. Soldiers became accustomed to using the convenient dressings for minor injuries and many continued relying on them after returning home. Wartime distribution significantly expanded public awareness and cemented Band-Aid’s place in first-aid kits around the world.

Rather than remaining unchanged, Band-Aid continued to evolve with advances in wound care. Over the years, the brand introduced waterproof bandages, flexible fabric designs, stronger adhesives, specialized bandages for fingers and knuckles, and products designed for sensitive skin. Its history still came with a few big milestones including the introduction of machine-made band-aids in 1924, the sale of sterilized band-aids in 1939, and the replacement of regular tape with vinyl tape in 1958, all of which were marketed as the latest in at-home medical care.

 

The long-time slogan of Band-Aid, especially since it began marketing to children and parents in the mid-1950s, is “I am stuck on Band-Aid brand ’cause Band-Aids stuck on me!” and indicates a family-friendly value that Johnson & Johnson is known for. (Admit it…Can’t you just hear that jingle in your head!!)In 1951, Band-Aids introduced the first decorative band-aids which featured the cartoon character Mickey Mouse in the hope they’d appeal to children. These ongoing innovations have allowed the brand to remain relevant for more than a century.

Not every medical breakthrough starts with years of research. Sometimes, it begins with a simple act of care. Earle Dickson wasn’t trying to change the world, he was just looking for an easier way to help his wife treat her frequent kitchen injuries. His solution went on to change first aid for generations.

More than 100 years after its invention, the Band-Aid remains one of the most recognizable examples of how practical design, continuous innovation, and compassionate problem-solving can improve everyday healthcare for millions of people.

 

 

 

 

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North and South. Yankee and Rebel. Union and Confederate.
In the midst of the Civil War, can two hearts come together?
When the tide of war sweeps south and the Union Army invades and destroys the Georgia cotton mill where Kate Brodie is a nurse, not only is her livelihood destroyed but she’s branded a traitor and shipped northward with the other workers. Only the unlikely attention of a Yankee major makes the trip tolerable.

Union major, Griffin Fletcher loathes the part of his job that requires him to destroy homes, towns, and livelihoods of innocent civilians. But he’s sworn to uphold the Union at all costs. Yet, he vows to protect these women he’s been ordered to transport to Marietta. Especially the one whose fiery determination, proud stance, and soft heart draws him closer.

Determined to remain in the South, Kate makes a daring leap of faith to nurse wounded Yankee soldiers, never expecting Major Fletcher to be one of her patients. Along with his healing, they each faced the fears and prejudices that had brought them together.
With survival so tenuous, can faith help them find love in the midst of so much tragedy?

*******GIVEAWAY*******

To win an e-book copy of Her Rebel Heart, share a memory of a childhood incident when you needed a band-aid, or two!

Lauralyn Keller Is Inspired By the Spirit of the West!

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When Petticoats & Pistols invited me to guest post, I laughed a little. My novel doesn’t take place beneath the big skies of Texas or Wyoming—it unfolds among the ridges and hollers of Appalachian Tennessee. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Appalachian and Western communities have more in common than we often think.

What is it we love about Western novels? The rural setting. Frontier life. Strong family and community ties. Traditional values. Characters overcoming hardships. And yeah, the cowboys are pretty cool.

The Appalachians may not be the American West, but both places share a common spirit—a spirit of independence, resilience, and community. Maybe that’s what we love about Western stories in the first place. It’s not necessarily the landscape. It’s the people.

That’s what my books are about. My other series is Western. This series is Appalachian. The locations are different, but the spirit is the same.

In my upcoming novel, The Teacher’s Mending Heart, both main characters face struggles that require grit and determination to see them through. Bethany Astor, a nurse who served overseas during World War I, moves to the Tennessee town of Laurel Ridge at the request of the Red Cross to serve a community torn apart by the war and other tragedies. While she wants to heal others, her own heart is in need of healing. Her fiancé was killed in the war and she closed herself to love. She just didn’t count on Dylan Harper, the town schoolteacher haunted by a terrible accident that took a student’s life and left him with a limp. He’s a bit of a golden retriever in contrast to Bethany’s level-headed calm. Her skill as a masseuse pulls them closer together and allow them to form a friendship.

Resilience is the characteristic that both characters demonstrate most. Both have something to lose if they give in to their feelings. For Bethany, it’s saying goodbye to her fiancé and the life she dreamt they’d have. Dylan has to let go of his feelings of unworthiness and open his heart.

They can’t do it alone, and that’s where the community comes in. The town is fighting for its survival, just as Bethany and Dylan are fighting their own battles. Friends offer support and love, sometimes tough love. The town council, of which Dylan is a part, works tirelessly to save Laurel Ridge. While shops are closing and people are moving away, the council knows Laurel Ridge can be saved. They do all they can to make sure their beloved town survives, all while loving their neighbors and relying on God’s help to get them through.

Maybe that’s why I don’t think you need a cowboy—or even a pistol—to write a story with the spirit of the West. When I first laughed at the invitation from Petticoats & Pistols, I was thinking about geography. Tennessee isn’t Montana. Appalachia isn’t the frontier West. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the heart of these stories isn’t about where they happen. It’s about the people who refuse to give up, the communities that rally around them, and the hope they find in one another. And that’s something we can all relate to—Western or otherwise.

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Giveaway

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1963212819?tag=pettpist-20

I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of The Teacher’s Mending Heart to someone who comments on this post. Sound off below, and let me know your thoughts—what is it you love about the spirit of the West? Do you think that spirit applies to other stories?

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Thanks for reading! God bless.

Lauralyn

The Unsung Heroes of the Frontier–and a Giveaway

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The Unsung Heroes of the Frontier by Jill Dewhurst

Thank you for inviting me to be your guest!  Though now a historical Christian fiction author, my first profession was an RN in cardiac critical care.  Because of my nursing experience, medical subplots tend to find their way into my manuscripts.  Researching physician education in the United States during the westward has been enlightening.  When my husband studied to be a cardiologist, he invested fourteen years of post-secondary training between medical school, internship, residency, and fellowship. 

In 1820, however, only four medical schools had been established in the US:  Harvard, Columbia, Dartmouth, and the University of Pennsylvania. 

All four are located on the northern Atlantic Coast, and most graduates never strayed far from these medical centers.  Those in the frontier who truly had an aptitude for healing and helping the hurting usually had neither the resources for the arduous and expensive journey east nor the connections to be accepted into one of the four prestigious medical schools. 

Photo Credit: By J.R. Penniman – Harvard University, Francis A. Countway Library of Medicine, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10300112

In lieu of formal academic training (only two years of classes, by the way!), prospective frontier doctors would apprentice under a practicing physician, both observing and assisting, all while immersing themselves in copious amounts of reading.  By necessity, their scope of practice was much broader than the academically trained doctors in the East, for they were often the only medical practitioners in their region.  These doctors would treat everyday ailments, as well as pulling teeth, delivering babies, setting broken bones, performing surgery, administering various herbal and mineral remedies, and sometimes caring for livestock and other veterinary patients.

These doctors were the unsung heroes of the frontier, for they would be on-call day and night, ready to travel several miles if necessary.  They willingly put themselves at risk during epidemics of cholera and influenza, tending the sick when no cure had yet been found.  By necessity, much of their apothecary treatments were made from herbs, roots, and bark native to their region with the knowledge of the collection and administration gleaned from the experience of the Native Americans in their area.

One example of a plant-based medicine frequently found in historical fiction is willow bark tea, a treatment for fevers and minor pain for over 4,000 years (first recorded use was during the Sumerian civilization, then later in Mesopotamia, China, and Ancient Greece).  In 1853, the isolated active compound was discovered to be acetylsalicylic acid, and the Bayer Company purchased the patent and mass produced it.  When you read of a patient receiving willow bark tea, think Aspirin.

In my Rugged Cross Ranch series, the Harvard-trained doctor in Prairie Hills invites one of the brothers on the ranch with an aptitude for medicine to train under him.  Watching Luke grow from an eager learner of veterinary medicine into a physician and surgeon made my author’s heart swell with pride.  Luke’s compassion does not dim his fortitude to make the right decision even when it is the hard decision.  He is intelligent and well-read with steady hands and neat stitches.  He has great skill in determining a patient’s diagnosis—well, unless that patient is his wife.  Then he is rendered utterly clueless.  (Referencing a humorous moment in Heidi’s Faith)

Meet Luke Hamilton in Julie’s Joy, the first book in my Rugged Cross Ranch series. 

Many of the homeopathic remedies we have today have their roots (pun intended) in generations of well-tried tradition.  The medical side of me is pleased that many of the most common remedies are now being included in well-constructed medical studies.  One of my personal go-to natural medicines is a blend of elderberry, echinacea, zinc, and Vitamin C to boost immunity during cold and flu season.  

Julie’s Joy

WHEN JULIE’S TENACIOUS JOY IS TESTED BY LIFE-SHATTERING TRAGEDY, HER INTENSE SORROW MIGHT LEAD HER TO UNEXPECTED LOVE.

Julie Peterson had been born into a family of faith and privilege, but when her dad decided to move his family West to homestead near his sister’s ranch in northeastern Oklahoma, disaster struck, leaving Julie a nine-year-old orphan.  Rescued and cared for by a migrating Kiowa village until her uncle found her years later, Julie has learned to find joy even when navigating the inherent challenges as a blind woman destined to remain unmarried.

Buck Matthews, the second oldest brother on the ranch, has given up dreams of a family, knowing no woman would accept his heritage.  When Julie arrives on the ranch, their friendship reveals they have a great deal in common.  Would Julie be willing to accept his love?

When tragedy overwhelms Julie, will sorrow extinguish her joy forever or will her faith in her loving Father lead to hope?  Follow God’s sovereign hand through this story of faith, family, and redeeming love and be inspired to trust the One who loves us all unconditionally.

Julie’s Joy on Amazon

What is one of your favorite natural remedies?  Was it recommended by a friend or passed down through your family?  Be sure to chime in!  I’d love to meet you! You’ll be entered in a drawing for an autographed copy of Julie’s Joy and a $10 Amazon gift card to one winner.

About Jill:

Jill Dewhurst’s is a Selah Award Bronze Medalist, Christian Author Award Winner, Will Rogers Medallion Award Gold Medal Winner, and bestselling author of historical Christian fiction, Jill Dewhurst writes novels that seamlessly weave a page-turning story with the truth of God’s unconditional love. With her varied experience as an RN, a musician, and a homeschool mom, Jill creatively weaves a part of herself into each story.  When not writing, she enjoys playing her flute and thanking God for the hubby who lassoed her heart for keeps. Publishing her Rugged Cross Ranch series has been a dream come true.  http://www.jilldewhurst.com 

Hear a Little About Early Hearing Aids

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I’ve had a big change in my life recently—one that took me a bit by surprise. I got hearing aids. Let me start out by saying I’m WAY TOO YOUNG to need hearing aids. But here we are, right? Truth be told, I had noticed some difficulty hearing things this past year. It became really apparent when I went to a conference and struggled to hear the speakers. So, not long after that off to the ENT doctor I went and got tested. I don’t like the word “profound” but that’s what he used when describing the level of my hearing loss. Sigh.

I decided to be optimistic about this change, and I’m glad I did. I actually love my new hearing aids. I have a good friend who talks very soft, and I used to miss about a third of what she said. No more. I hear every word! And who knew my favorite pair of shoes squeaked when I walk? Or that the neighbor’s dog barks all day (okay, maybe this isn’t a good thing). I told my husband, I can now hear the sun shine and grass grow.

This got me wondering a little about how people throughout history dealt with hearing loss. I mean, these devices I’m currently wearing are so technologically advanced, I think they could transmit a message into outer space while tracking a bald eagle in the Colorado Rockies (only slight exaggeration – ha, ha). So, I did a little research.

The first recorded use of hearing aids, which may date back as far as Egyptian times, were called ear trumpets. They were pretty much what you’d imagine them to be—a horned shaped object, small on one end and large on the other. Most were constructed of wood, hollowed out animal horns, and in later years, brass. During the old west, hollowed out buffalo horns were often used. These ear trumpets didn’t work all that well, amplifying sounds only directly in front of the user and then to a small degree. They functioned best when someone spoke directly into the ear trumpet at close range.

The interesting part, however, was how clever ear trumpets became in their design. No one likes admitting to having a hearing loss, so inventors created some pretty cool ways to make hearing aids less conspicuous and a true fashion statement. They hid the devices in wardrobe accessories like ladies’ fans and headpieces and men’s canes­. In the home, hearing aids could be hidden in vases. King John IV of Portugal had a throne designed for him with ornately carved lion heads on the arms. The lions’ open mouths transmitted sound to the back of the throne and into the king’s ear via a speaking tube.

In 1898, the first electric hearing aid, called an Akouphone, was invented. As you can imagine, it was huge and bulky and not very portable. But then in the early 1900s, carbon hearing aids came into being, using similar technology to early microphones and telephones. While they amplified sound, they weren’t all that effective. In the 1920s, vacuum hearing aids came along, an advancement that allowed the size to be greatly reduced. One of the biggest jumps came after WWII with the invention of transistors–which reduced the size of hearing aids even more. For a while, there were even hearing aids built into eyeglasses, though these were awkward to wear and didn’t last long.

In the early 1960s, some smart person came up with the first behind the ear hearing aids – a style still in use today by 70% of people who wear hearing aids. But everything changed around 1995 with fully digital versions hit the market. Rather than simply amplifying sound, the user could now differentiate between low, mid, and high frequencies and adjust the hearing aid to their surrounding.

Interesting, huh? You know what I like best about my new hearing aids, besides the improvement to my hearing? They are connected to my phone, and I can listen to audio books without earbuds or headphones. Now that’s cool 🙂

 

 

Fever and Ague in the West (Plus, a giveaway!)

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While researching what kind of disease might wipe out an entire town, sending the gunslingers of Red Ridge in a reluctant truce with the new town doctor one didn’t really trust, I was reminded of fever and ague. 

I was just a little girl when I first read about fever and ague, and it was in a Little House on the Prairie book. Perhaps you remember the story? The entire family came down with an illness. First, intense chills, and then a fever and body aches.

Pa Ingalls thought it came from night air. Others thought it was the watermelons growing nearby. No one realized that fever and ague was actually malaria, and came from mosquitoes.

Fever and ague was a common but also debilitating illness in the 1800s, particularly in the United States. In the 1830s in Oregon, two Native American tribes, the Kalapuya of the Willamette Valley and the Chinookan people along the Columbia River were nearly wiped out, losing an estimated 80-95% of their peoples. One estimate I saw said they went from 14,000 lives to just over 1,000. Can you imagine? There wouldn’t have been any family spared the devastation of loss. 

Chinook people in a canoe on the Columbia River. Library of Congress

While today, we understand fever and ague to be malaria, in the early 1800s that wasn’t known. There was speculation about how it started but one thing was certain. It was deadly once it struck. 

The only effective treatment (other than time and luck) was quinine, which came from the bark of the South American Cinchona tree. It was scarce, expensive, and ground up, but it was also incredibly bitter. However, it saved many lives. 

Science Museum Group. Quinine sulphate bottle. A664060 Science Museum Group Collection Online. Accessed 3 November 2025. https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co189273/quinine-sulphate-bottle.%5B/caption%5D

 

It was sobering to write parts of The Doctor. When it comes to medicines and doctors and the fears of what might happen, I sometimes have trouble because it’s rather close to home. Many of you know that I have a child with a chronic illness and a suppressed immune system, and we spend a lot of time in the children’s hospital. Just recently, because his body, even after three months of antibiotics, can’t fight off a skin infection, he had to have a surgery to remove it, in hopes that it will finally respond to the medicine, and avoid the placement of a PICC line in him. Though it’s been scary and hard and there’s been so, so much stress, I can’t help but feel grateful that today, we have tools and knowledge and medicines to help. Back in the 1800s, so many towns didn’t have doctors, and they didn’t have medicines. When something like fever and ague raced through a town, there was little more than false hope that could be given, if there wasn’t a way to treat it. That’s something that the doctor in this book has to grapple with, and I pray none of us ever do. 

Thankfully, this is fiction, where HEAs exist, but tears still might pop up.

If you’d like a chance to read The Doctor, it releases later this month in ebook, paperback, and large print. 

Today, one of you is going to win an ebook from this series. You can choose if you’d like book 1, book 2, book 3, or…if you’ve already read those, if you’d like me to send you book 4 when it releases. (I promise, I won’t forget!) 

You can click right here, to see the books to choose from. 

To have a chance at winning, just tell me: Based on this blurb, how do you think the doctor will get the medicine he needs to treat the town?

Nora Madison returns to Red Ridge seeking a decision about her future, but when her overprotective brother tries to tell her what she can and can’t do, Nora resists; especially as a spark ignites between her and the enigmatic physician. Something is drawing her closer, and she’d like to find out what it is.

Dr. Aiden Rycroft’s plan is simple: practice medicine in a town far from his troubles, ignore the town’s drama (especially the possessive gunslinger), and leave when his contract ends. Yet, the more Billy Madison tries to keep him away from his intriguing sister, Nora, the more their paths seem destined to cross.

When a mysterious illness sweeps through the town, Aiden and Billy find their paths intertwined in a reluctant truce. The stakes become deeply personal when Nora falls victim to the very illness Aiden’s been unable to get medicine for. Now, any hope for their future faces its ultimate test as Aiden fights not only to save her life but also to prove his own worth, to himself and to the woman who sees beyond his guarded exterior.

Old Bull’s Heavenly Visitor & Give-away

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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

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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?

 

New Interview From Coffee Time Romance & e-book giveaway

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Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Hope your summer is going great!

Well, I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Coffee Time Romance, the subject being the writing of my newest series about the Medicine Man.

Hope you’ll love the interview and hope you’ll leave a comment and let me know your thoughts on this new series of writing about the American Indian Medicine Man.  And, I will be giving away a free e-book to one of the bloggers — your choice.

To the left here is a Kiowa Medicine Man with his wife and child.  I love this photo.  This is a handsome young man and his wife is very pretty.  She’s also wearing long, braid holders.  They might be beaded; it’s hard to tell.  Or they might be made of cloth.  He looks to be wearing a cotton shirt  and a cloth breechcloth.  But he is wearing what looks to be hide moccasins and perhaps she is, also.  She also has a very pretty trade blanket around her waist.  When the buffalo were slaughtered and no longer roamed the Great Western Plains, cloth often became the material of choice which they would get from the trading posts and this was commonly used for their clothing.  Their baby looks to be wearing a homemade dress of cloth.  The medicine man is also holding rattles and a stick with quite a few feathers attached.  I do not know the significance of this stick, if there is any.  Anyway, this is what I see from their picture.  And now for the interview.

 

Welcome. Today I’m talking with Karen Kay, and her books revolve around the American Indian culture. What an interesting theme. Tell us why you wanted to write about this.

Well, historically, the American Indians have pretty much had a bad rap.  I can say this now having mounds of historical documents in my library of their own writings and/or stories they told to friends that they had personally been a part of, and those friends wrote those stories down.  History in movies, in texts and other means of communication has been pretty much written by the victors and, until more recently, lies about them and their ideas of government, culture, freedom, the spiritual nature of man, the institution of marriage, of honor, of truth and the willingness to come to the aid of a friend has been hidden or simply not taught.  And it is this culture which is unparalleled in many ways than any other society I have studied.  Later, after I had started writing about the American Indians, I found out through a neighbor and a family tree (now lost) that I had Choctaw heritage that was hidden from me.  This alone has given me a reason to try in my own humble way to write it the way I have found it to be.

How is your approach different?

I’m not sure my work is entirely different from others who write in this genre.  The only thing I try to add is to make (though I write in fiction) many of the happenings in my books based on or inspired by real people who lived through some of the events I write about.

In order to write about the American Indian Culture, you have to be knowledgeable. Where do you do your research?

Well, almost all of my research is done from reading historical accounts of true happenings told by the person who lived them.  The writings of James Willard Schultz; Charles Eastman; Walter McClintrock; Jeffrey Prather; Frank B. Linderman; Frederick E. Hoxie; William Tomkins, George Catlin and many, many others.  I have many, many books on the fur trade, the steamboats, the bull trains, the railroads, etc.  And that’s just in the West.  I have a whole other assortment of books on the Eastern Indian Iroquois Confederation.

Tell us a little about your sources — the people you’ve met, and how you contacted them.

When I first started writing these stories — all those years ago in 1994 — I was determined to learn as much as I could about what I was writing about and to write entertainment, it’s true, but to be as accurate as I could about the actual history of the American Indians.  Besides books, I visited all the reservations in Montana and many of the reservations in South Dakota.  I’ve been to reservations in Arizona and New Mexico.  My husband and I have visited every reservation in Montana personally and have gone to pow-wows and we were instrumental in bringing a literacy project to the Blackfeet reservation in Montana that was open and was helping people with literacy for about five years.  I have two almost-sisters on the Blackfeet reservation to this day.  And, in 2007, I was adopted into the Blackfeet reservation.

You’ve written several books in your Medicine Man series. Tell us about the role of the medicine man in American Indian culture. Who were they?

Well, this is a subject I am still learning about, to tell you the truth.  I had wanted to write about the medicine men for a while, but didn’t because I simply didn’t know enough about them.  And, it’s a subject that doesn’t have a lot of information about who they were or what they did because these men did not necessarily tell others their secrets.  But slowly, reading a lot of stories about them, I’ve come to know more about them through stories their children have told (Blackfeet), through Frank B. Linderman’s book Pretty Shield, Medicine Woman of the Crows (Crow), Jeffrey Prather’s book, INITIATION Boys are Born. Men are Trained (Apache), Thomas E. Malls book, Fools Crow (Lakota) and of course, Black Elk Speaks (Lakota) by John G. Neihardt.  There are many more.

One thing I have learned is that the medicine man’s path was not an easy path to follow.  There was a code of honor and a code of ethics they adhered to if they wished to be successful.  And one the of biggest things I discovered is that the medicine man was very aware that he was doing the Creator’s work and his life consisted of prayer every day.  The Creator or God was the one who was doing the healing through the medicine man.  These medicine men were very aware of this and believed that the spirit of the Creator, alone, healed.  He was a part of everything they did to help their people to heal.

There were/are those who use what might be called black magic to do deeds contrary to the Creator, but these men were not usually known as medicine men — often they were known as witches or a shaman and they were as different from a medicine man as day is to night.

I go into this in more detail in my book, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD.  I do try to share what I have learned with my readers.

What did they do to help people get well?

All medicine men and medicine women knew how to use herbs, teas, muds, the bark of trees and their leaves and other plants found in nature to heal.  But, they had their own way of healing that was theirs alone.  They used the rhythm of drums, a special song, dances, putting hands on the body of a person to discover their ailment to help heal.  But, their main way to ensure the person they were asked to help was through prayer and the prayer was usually done in a very certain way.

A medicine man is a fascinating — and highly interesting — person. What started you on this quest to know more?

That came to me in an entirely American Indian fashion — through a dream, really.  I used to talk a bit about this, but no longer do — having now the knowledge that one should not share the dream with anyone else except with a medicine man.

Are there still medicine men (or women) around today?

Yes, there are, although from the book, Fools Crow by Thomas E. Malls, I’ve learned that some medicine men in the present might not fully follow the path of honor that was so essential in the olden days and these men, according to Fools Crow, can tend to be not as successful as they might otherwise be.  But yes, there are definitely medicine men who still follow this difficult path and who are dearly loved by their people.

What was the greatest challenge writing this series?

I think it would be learning about who these men and women truly were.  It’s hard to discover who they were and what they accomplished and some of the things they used to heal when there is really not a lot written about them.  But, over time I’ve learned enough to at least show what they could accomplish and a little of how they did what they did.  And, again, the importance of the Creator or God was paramount in all they did to help another.

What in your opinion makes good chemistry between your leading characters?

In my stories, the one culture and its ideas and ideals are pitted against the other, and their cultural ideals rarely match one with the other.  It is the love and admiration they each have for one another, despite very real problems and differences they deeply hold, that cause them to be determined to be together despite what is going on around them and despite sometimes, even the characters, themselves.

Now a little about you, Karen Kay. What inspired you to become a writer?

It was during a very rough time in my life when my children were quite little (toddlers) that I began to really read a lot of romance.  Those books became friends.  Because I was raised in a household of music when I was young, I was used to being inspired by the aesthetics of music.  And during this tough time in my life, when I really needed some aesthetics in my life, books and writing became my outlet and to this day, my characters become my friends.

How long have you been writing?

My first book was published in 1994 by AVON BOOKS.  But I was writing this and that for about thirteen years before actually becoming published.  When I discovered historical romance, I was thrilled and my very first historical romance, LAKOTA SURRENDER, was bought and published by AVON BOOKS.

Are you a disciplined writer with a strict schedule?

Mostly, I am.  But, with four adopted new pets and helping out with grandchildren and all kinds of chores I have to do at home, my schedule has been disrupted and I am trying my best to get to a schedule that works for me now.  But, mostly I am a disciplined writer.

What inspires you?

Gosh, a lot.  I get inspired by the people around me, by my readers, by the research books I read and by happy every afters.  My heroines are based usually upon people I know and the same could be said about the heroes.  But, the main hero who inspires me is my husband.

Any other works in progress?

Yes.  I’m at work on book #6 in the Medicine Man series.  The working title for the book right now is IF SHE WERE MINE.  I’m also writing a Young Adult series under the pen name of Genny Cothern and I’m at work on book #3 in the Untamed Frontier series.  These Young Adult stories are novellas and they are a short, and I hope are easy to read, too.  They are sweet historical romances of adventure and young love.

Do you have any final words you’d like to share with your readers or anything else you want to tell us about your books?

I love hearing from readers.  Usually these emails I get from my readers are a bright spot in my day and so I would like to encourage readers to email me.  My email address is:  karenkay.author@startmail.com

Thank you, Karen Kay. And best of luck with your Medicine Man series.

Petticoats & Pistols