Once upon a time I was a miner. Not for long, but long enough. I worked pretty deep, on the 6700 and 6900 levels of the Star Mine in Burke, Idaho. The level numbers indicate how far below the surface we were, so 6700 means that we were 6700 feet under the surface.
I drove a muck train with my partner Billy. We would drive the train back into the drift (commonly called a tunnel, but a tunnel has an entry and exit point while a drift just “drifts” back into the rock with no exit), stop under a chute containing rock that the miners working far above us had mined, open the chute, load the cars and then drive back to the station, which is the main area of each underground level. There we would dump the cars, each of which contain about a ton of ore, into a bigger chute, which collected ore during the day that would be carried to the surface in muck skips on the graveyard shift.
This is a motorman on the job. Imagine me in that yellow coat.
When we hauled ore (trammed muck) one of us drove the motor or engine, and the other rode on the back of the last car. A train usually had four. Each day we got a list of which chutes to pull and how many loads to haul from each by the shift boss and that was our work for the day. If we got done early, we were supposed to “maintain” the ditches next to the tracks, as in shovel them out. We usually tried not to get done too quickly. On the other hand, sometimes we didn’t get done at all because the train would jump the tracks and we would spend a lot of time jacking that darn thing back on, which was no easy feat when the motor weighed 5 tons and Billy and I combined weighed close to 250 lbs. We learned a lot of on-the-job physics.
So how did we communicate in the dark? With lights and clangs. The lights were most important. When you wear a light on your head all day, there are etiquette rules, such as never look directly at someone and blind them. You always directed the light to the side of the person’s face. The light was used for signals. To have someone move away from you, you nodded your head up and down, meaning go back. When you wanted someone to come your way, you circled your light. When you wanted someone to stop you shook your head back and forth. If you wanted them to stop fast, you shook your head really fast. Many was the time when I was helping my dad hook up the horse trailer and forgetting I was not in the mine, I would shake my head when I wanted him to stop. Head shaking never worked the same as it did underground.
My dad, my grandpa and me on the motor in 1963.
And then there is the clangs, which were handier when positioning the cars under the chutes. When the guy riding the back car had the position they wanted, they would hit the edge of the car one time. If the motorman didn’t manage to stop in the right place, more signals would follow. Three clangs meant move forward. Two clangs meant move back. One meant stop. Clangs were quicker than lights for signals.
I enjoyed my time underground, but I was raised in mining. To answer the question that I get a lot, no I never minded being that deep in the earth. I much prefer it to being high in the air. Oh, but I hate heights.
Hope you are having a terrific summer! Did any of you go on vacation this last August? If so, where did you go? And most of all, did you have fun?
Well, to start off September, I thought I’d tell you a bit about the American Indian style of jewelry, Plains style specifically. All tribes were different, and this included hair styles, jewelry, moccasins, clothing and many other things that, if one knew how, could identify the tribe.
But let’s go a little deeper into Jewelry, what was used and how it was worn. To the left here is a young man who can be identified by his style of hair, as well as his clothing and jewelry. He is Blackfeet, I believe, and probably the picture was taken in the 1850’s or 1860’s. His hair with his bangs cut and pulled straight up could be either Blackfeet or Crow. But the style of his rifle case and the capote (his “blanket coat”) he is wearing looks very Blackfeet. He wouldn’t be part of a southern tribe because there would be no need for the capote in the south.
It looks to me as if he is wearing ermine fur as earrings — the fur of the ermine was white in the winter and the fur could be used for jewelry or could ornament anything, including headdresses. He is also wearing the bow clips with large beads attached and they are hung from each side of his face. His necklace is beaded with the beads (most likely the color blue) used as a choker and a looping necklace of white and various colored beads. It also looks to me as if the necklace has another loop to it, barely seen because of the capote he is wearing.
His moccasins look to be made from a substantial material, probably buckskin, which might identify him again, as Blackfeet. His friend is dressed in the classic kind of outfit worn by traders during this time period.
The gentleman to the right is definitely Blackfeet, and is Chief Old Person, circa the late 1890’s or early 1900’s. He is an ancestor of Chief Earl Old Person, who was chief of the tribe for very many years…and also who was very beloved by his tribe. In this picture, his headdress identifies him at once as Blackfeet because the top part of the headdress stands almost straight up, which was the style of the Blackfeet headdress. He wears many ermine furs, which hang down from his headdress. He is also wearing what looks like a brass armband and has a tomahawk in his hand. Note, also his white clothing, which is usually made from a buffalo hide and tanned until it is soft and white.
Glass beads were a trade item and were used to make earrings, necklaces and decorations on clothing, including dresses, leggings, moccasins, robes, bags, cradle boards and adorned many other things. Bead work could be identified by tribe and by color schemes. Before there were glass beads (imported from Europe), porcupine quills were used (soaked in the mouth until they were soft) and then used to ornament much of their clothing.and other items. Men and women might wear shells as necklaces and earrings. Men might wear horns, antlers, claws…a grizzly’s claws worn around the neck denoted a man of distinction. Chokers could be made from otter skin and beads and another items highly valued.
Here to the left are a couple of Blackfeet girls. Interestingly, these girls are not wearing as much jewelry as the men. Could it be that the Blackfeet men wore more jewelry in attempt to attract a woman? In the world of eagles, hawks and many other birds, the male of the species is often more colorful than the female, partly as a way of protecting the female as Nature has planned, but also, most likely to attract a lovely female’s attention.
Did you know that female prairie chickens sat in a circle around males in the middle who were dancing and strutting, showing off their stuff?
But, in this picture to the right, what we see is the traditional American Indian style braids, with a part in the middle. The shells that are ornamenting the dress on the girl on our right appears to be elk teeth. Notice they are both wearing a belt and at this time period (perhaps the late 1890’s), they are both wearing trade-cloth dresses and what looks to be wide leather belts. In the background is a beautifully painted tepee. Men painted these tepees, by the way.
Well, I hope you have enjoyed this quick look into traditional style of jewelry and clothes and the beautiful bead work and ornamentation.
And now for the give-away: I will be giving away a pair of American Indian hoop earrings to one of the bloggers today. They are beautifully beaded with orange, yellow, green, blue, red and white seed beads. There are three hoops that make up the earrings and the size of each earring is about 2 inches wide and long. They are for pierced ears only.
Please see our Guidelines for giveaways. All you have to do to enter into the drawing is leave a post here on the blog.
Am hoping you enjoyed this quick look at the beauty of the American Indian jewelry and clothing.
On sale right now are two of my stories:
She Steals My Breath
Currently on sale for $.99.
And
The Adventures Of Good Eagle and Miss Starling
by Genny Cothern — my pen name for this new Young Adult Series.
I’m sure some of us here remember the song that line is from or the TV show from the 1960s of the same name. Well, the longest remaining stretch of that famous (or perhaps infamous) route John Stienbeck once called the “Mother Road” can be found in my home state of Arizona. There are fascinating and entertaining stops along the way for those who like viewing impressive scenery while driving a piece of living history. One of my favorite places to visit is a former mining town located northwest of Lake Havasu in the Black Mountains called Oatman.
Beginning as a small mining camp in the early 1860s when two prospectors struck it rich by finding $2 million in gold. Over the years, Oatman’s population waxed and waned as gold petered out only to be rediscovered. The town was named after Olive Oatman who was abducted by Indians as a young girl and later adopted by the Mohaves. During her years in captivity, and prior to her eventual release at Fort Yuma in 1856, her face was tattooed in the tradition of the Mohave people. Her story became well known, being chronicled in newspapers and books. In addition to having the town named after her and gaining national recognition, Olive was also the inspiration for the character Eva on the television show Hell on Wheels.
The last “gold rush” in Oatman was around 1915 and ended a few years later. These days, Oatman is a popular stop on Route 66 for tourists and adventure seekers and boasts an authentic western atmosphere with its saloons, mining tours, wooden boardwalks, tourist shops, old-timey photographers, and staged shootouts. The Oatman hotel on the main drag includes a second floor museum which includes the Clark Gable/Carole Lombard honeymoon suite where the couple stayed after their Kingman wedding in 1939. People pinning one-dollar bills on the hotel’s saloon walls is a tradition that has continued for decades.
However, one of Oatman’s biggest claims to fame is the wild burros that have free roaming rights in the town and surrounding desert. These cute little critters are direct descendants of the donkeys used by the original miners in the late 1800s to prospect and pull ore carts. Over the years, the donkeys have become used to tourists and very friendly, thanks to “burro chow” which used to be sold at local shops until the practice was discouraged by the Bureau of Land Management. So far, this reduction in treats hasn’t stopped the burros from coming to Oatman on a daily basis. And, really, they are a big tourist draw, contributing to the town’s economy.
So, if you find yourself traveling Route 66 and looking for a great place to stop for a great western-themed day trip, check out Oatman, Arizona. And when you do, give the burros a scratch between the ears for m
Jan and I in the little photo taken in the early 1950s. I was probably 6 and she was 3.
Hi everyone, I’m so excited to share my little sister, Jan Sikes, with you today. That’s right, I have a sister who writes. She first wrote a four-book series about her life with country singer, Rick Sikes, and now she has just finished her second fictional series. The opportunity arose and we released our new books together — A Bold Bargain and Cade’s Quest. To the left is a recent picture of us.
But a little about our background. We grew up in a very poor neighborhood of a town in New Mexico that sits on the Texas state line. Few opportunities were available but that didn’t stop us from dreaming of doing amazing things. We had no TV to entertain us, so we turned to books. We were both very avid readers, and each Saturday would find us at the local library where we’d check out the maximum number then rush home to read. Books were our life and still are.
As Jan says, “In elementary school, I checked the Grimm’s Book of Fairy Tales out of the library so many times they had to create a new card for it. That’s a true story. I loved getting lost in the world of ‘what if’ and fantasy as it was so vastly different from my reality. As a child, I lived in my head, often not paying attention to what was going on around me, so that book fed the part of me that longed for something magical. Another book I remember reading multiple times when I was a bit older was The Grapes of Wrath. I related to it so much because our parents lived through that difficult time in history, so there was a personal connection.”
Throughout our lives, we’ve always been each other’s best friend. We talk books and writing almost every Sunday and we critique each other’s work. I love and respect her so much. She’s a great one to bounce ideas off of or get me unstuck when I write myself into a corner.
I was writing and publishing long before Jan did, but I’m just amazed at how far she’s come since her first book in 2013. At times, I think she knows more than I do and I’m really so proud of her.
Fast forward to now and our co-launch.
A Bold Bargain is Book 3 of The Bargainer Series. What if a bargain struck has the power to change a young man’s direction? Jack Blaine has had a rocky start in life and suffered at the hands of his moonshiner father. However, he yearns for a higher education and learning a skill that will give him the life he dreams of. By chance, he happens upon an elderly woman in need and strikes a bargain with her. The greatest acts of kindness are the ones that demand the most from us—and every decision can unlock destiny’s doors. This takes place in 1950 and is classified as historical literary fiction.
In Cade’s Quest, Cade McIntyre vows to find and bring home his five siblings after the town split them all up and sent them to the four winds. The search leads him on a different path and he discovers a Comanche woman needing a place to hide out. As they share a dugout, Cade finds himself falling for her and unable to walk away. A powerful enemy is hunting them both. With danger closing in and the past refusing to stay buried, their chance at love may be as fleeting as dust in the wind. This is Book 1 of the McIntyre series and is a sweet romance.
Both released August 11, 2025.
Here’s our question to you. Have you ever made a bargain (large or small) with someone? Maybe you’ve bargained with God. I sure have. If so, we’d like to hear it. Or if you have a sister, are you close like Jan and me? We’re doing a giveaway. One commenter will get A Bold Bargain (ebook) and two others will get Cade’s Quest (winner’s choice of ebook or print.)
When I was a child of about 12-years-old, my mother subscribed to a then popular historical, science, and cultural book club put out by Time-Life Magazines. There were series such as Voyage Through the Universe and Lost Civilizations. But the one we owned was by far one of the most popular: The Old West.
The books were beautiful constructed and truly collectable. Bound in imitation leather and tooled to resemble saddles or belts, replica authentic artwork adorned the covers. The books – 26 in all – were filled with old photographs, newspaper clippings, letters, drawings, painting, anecdotes, and stories. These truly beautiful books brought history to life for me and helped fueled my love of all things Western.
When my own children were young, my mother gifted me with the books, and I proudly displayed them for years in my living room. When I began writing western historical romances, I used the books for research and “borrowed” many story ideas and plot elements from real life incidents. It’s true what they say about true life being better than fiction. Some of my favorite books were, of course, The Cowboys, The Forty-Niners and The Miners (several of my western historicals take place in mining communities), The Spanish West (because I live in Arizona), The Canadians (my father’s family originally came over from France and settled in northeastern Canada and New England), and The Women – I still marvel at their courage and determination.
My favorite book of all, perhaps, is The Pioneers. From the time I was a very little girl, my mother and grandmother would tell me stories of my maternal family, who came over on the Mayflower. They would often speak about John Bidwell, a relative from New York who, as a young man, was lured by the call of the West in the days when people were crossing the country in droves. According to the stories, John Bidwell did well for himself in California, becoming a prominent and wealthy landowner who eventually served in the California Senate and House of Representative. All this when he arrived with but a few dollars in his pocket. Well, the stories my mother and grandmother told were true. John Bidwell appears in The Pioneers, and quite a few pages are dedicated to him and his contribution.
I can’t say I read all the books or even one of them from cover to cover. There was just too much information. But I’ve read something from every one of the books and studied at the pictures. Sadly, some years ago, I lost the books through a series of unforeseen events. These things happen. But I often thought about the books and wished I still had them. Well, thanks to the powers of Ebay and $99, I now do. I was recently able to buy a complete set of the books in pristine condition, and they are once again being proudly displayed on my living room bookcase. And while not the books my late mother gave me, they nonetheless warm my heart when I look at them and run my fingers over the imitation tooled leather covers ?
Every year around the first of April I start getting the itch to grow things. I start my tomatoes and peppers (if I haven’t already–sometimes I’m impatient). I note the dates that the local greenhouses will open for sales, usually May Day or Mother’s Day and start planning how many plants I need for the various beds. I honestly intend to keep a record each year, but I never do. I guess I like the adventure of winging it.
May came and my mom and I went to Costco and bought their most excellent petunias–20 for her, 50 for me. We also visited the local greenhouses and purchased pot filling flowers such as snap dragons, pansies, zinnias and cosmos. My indoor flower storage area was getting full. Like, really full. The temperatures were unseasonably warm at night, the days in the 70s, approaching 80. And then, to really light a fire under me, my mother did a terrible thing–she planted! I told my husband that I was going to plant the very next day. I checked the weather. There was a 50% chance of rain and the low temperature was in the high 30s.
Guess what? Temperatures unexpectedly plummeted an on May 14th, I woke up to this:
View of my house from the chicken yard where my girls told me they’d prefer to stay indoors.Rocket saying that this is disrupting his breakfast.My Aussie Posse glad to be in the cab.
I did not plant my petunias. My mother spent the morning tarping her planters and putting sprinklers in her garden. (She managed to save everything.)
The snow only lasted a day, but the cold hovered, and it’s only been during the past week that I’ve dared to set plants out. The sad thing is that it’s happened before, but I was so certain it wouldn’t happen this year. Not with temperatures in the 70- 80 range. But, my plants are out now and looking gorgeous. Now I just have to hope that we don’t get the June blizzard.
My question to you, for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card, have you ever had unexpected weather disrupt your plans?
Just about everyone on the planet has heard of John Steinbeck, the author of Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, and Of Mice and Men. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1962 which laid to rest any doubts about his abilities. He based his books on events and characters of the time and readers snapped up new works.
But did you know his dog Toby ate the manuscript Of Mice and Men? Toby destroyed the only copy Steinbeck had, all that work of finding the right words to fill the pages gone. If only Steinbeck had a computer and thumb drives back then!!
The dog got swatted with the flyswatter and Steinbeck started over. Back then, a writer had to type everything or write in longhand. I’m not sure, but I think he had a typewriter.
Some writers might’ve thrown in the towel but not him. After writing his agent in May 1936, to inform him of the setback, he started over in new surroundings and inspiration flowed. He finished the book and submitted it a mere three months later in August. He didn’t have a lot of faith that the book would amount to anything. He called it mediocre. However, the book released in Feb. 1937 and was a wild success.
After that, he wrote While Travels With Charley and it gave the ailing author one last bestseller. So everything worked out.
I can relate to this. True story. I was writing a contracted book, The Cowboy Who Came Calling, and had completed the first half. I came home from work to find my husband had deleted the book from my computer. He’d been getting rid of files that were no longer needed and happened to get my story.
A huge lump formed in the pit of my stomach. All that work vanished, every single word, and I was writing under deadline like Steinbeck.
To give you an idea of the total devastation, I’d been losing vision and my doctor warned he might not be able to stop it. So this story was about a woman losing her sight after getting kicked in the head by an animal and I had become the character. I put myself in Glory Day’s shoes and wrote what I was experiencing. It was taking a lot out of me emotionally to say the least.
But, you know, when I began writing the book again, inspiration grew by leaps and bounds. The story turned out far better than it was to start with. I don’t know what it is that kicks in but it’s just amazing. My editor loved the story and it went on to win the National Readers Choice Award.
Sidenote: My neurologist did save most of my vision. And from then on, I saved everything in multiple places and on various devices. I did forgive my husband. He didn’t do it maliciously and felt so badly. He really went all out in showing his remorse.
I’ve recently published my 50th book with my newest western called Creek so that was a good lesson learned. I never lost anything else.
Have you ever lost something, doesn’t have to be on the computer, that held value for you? I’m giving away two copies of Creek so leave a comment.
For more fun and information, check out our Petticoats &Pistols Reader Group on Face Book HERE.
Howdy! Welcome to another terrific Tuesday! Hope y’all are doing well!
Have just released a new Young Adult, Novella #2 in the Untamed Frontier Series. The title of the book is To Tame a Wild Horse. It’s written under one of my pen names, Genny Cothern.
First let me tell you a little about the series and then the story of book #2. The series is about two teenagers from completely different cultures, Good Eagle and Miss Starling. When they first meet, he is eighteen and she is sixteen and they spark off of one another from the start. But gradually, they become friends, though it’s a long, hard road.
Book #2 takes place about a year later and together they herd the horses for the Fort (where Starling’s uncle is the Factor), they hunt for the fort and they roam the prairies when they can. They’ve become good friends. And so, with this in mind, this is the back blurb for the book:
TO TAME A WILD HORSE
Montana, 1848
Can Friends Ever Fall In Love?
I have only been at Fort Lewis for a year, but my friendship with Good Eagle has blossomed and has brought me a kind of happiness like nothing I have ever known. Daily I ride over the prairies and mountains with Good Eagle, and, I’ve now learned to herd horses, to hunt wild game and to aim at a target and bring it down. But, when a grizzly threatens both Good Eagle and me, and, when Good Eagle commands me to hide from it while he faces the grizzly alone, I refuse. Desert my best friend? Never.
But, after we rescue some stolen horses, I begin to believe my friendship with Good Eagle might have been love from the very start.
This is not good. Not only has Good Eagle given my Uncle Jed a promise to treat me like an almost-sister, we share nothing in common except our friendship. Nothing. And, when I slyly bring up the subject of love, Good Eagle reminds me of his vow to my uncle.
And yet, when we track and bring down the wild, black stallion we are seeking, Good Eagle gives me an unexpected gift.
Is falling in love really impossible, or are we merely too young to know our own hearts?
This fictional story is inspired by the true adventures of Thomas Fox and Pitamakan, as written by James Willard Schultz from Thomas Fox’s handwritten legacy — and from Thomas relating the adventures of he and Pitamakan, while sitting around an evening’s cozy fire.
Pitamakan went on to become a great chief, but a quick search doesn’t pull up many results about him because Pitamakan means Running Eagle in Blackfeet and there was another Running Eagle, a girl warrior, and most accounts I’ve been able to find about Pitamakan are about the girl warrior, who, by the way had many adventures, as well, as told by her lifetime friend, Ap’ah, who was born on the same day as she.
Must admit I love telling these stories about friendship and honor, and about two people from completely opposing cultures who somehow manage to become friends. And, I love learning about a history I had no knowledge of prior to doing this research.
Now, I’ll be giving away this new story to four (4) bloggers today. So come on in and leave a comment. And, May your week be filled with happiness and love!
I am Margaret Tanner, an award winning, bestselling, Australian author with nearly two hundred books published on Amazon. I now concentrate on writing sweet Western Historical Romance, although in the past I used to write Contemporary and Australian Historical Romance.
I like to think my stories will tug at your heartstrings and evoke strong emotions.
My heroes hide behind a rough exterior. They are tough men who are prepared to face danger and overwhelming odds for the women they love. My heroines are brave, resourceful women willing to endure hardship and danger in an untamed land, if it means they can win their heart’s desire.
I have had many jobs over the years including being an Army Reservist, an Army Major’s secretary and a Medical Audio typist. My most memorable job, for all the wrong reasons, was as a postal delivery person. Surprisingly, I am scared of dogs, and I have to say I was accosted many times by dogs who were/or were not, intent on doing me harm.
I sadly lost my husband at the end of Covid. I have three grown-up sons, and two lovely granddaughters.
Outside of my family and friends, writing is my passion.
FRONTIER LIFE – AMERICA AND AUSTRALIA
Life on the American and Australian frontiers have a strikingly similar history, so it was fairly easy for me to make the transition from writing Australian to American western historical stories.
For example, take the Australian Act of Selection.
America: The original Homestead Act was signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln on May 20th, 1862. It gave applicants freehold title to up to 160 acres of undeveloped federal land west of the Mississippi River. The law required only three steps from the applicant – filing an application, improving the land, then filing for a deed of title.
Anyone who had never taken up arms against the U.S. government, including freed slaves, could file a claim on the provisions that they were over the age of twenty-one and had lived on the land for five years.
The Homestead Act’s lenient terms proved to be ill-fated for many settlers. Claimants didn’t have to own farming implements or even to have had any farming experience. The allocated tracts of land may have been adequate in humid regions but were not large enough to support plains settlers where lack of water reduced yields.
Speculators often gained control of homestead land by hiring phony claimants or buying up abandoned farms.
Homesteaders could often build a log cabin in a matter of days, using only an axe and auger. No nails were required for the task.
The first step in construction was to build a stone or rock foundation, to keep the logs off the ground and prevent rot. Once the foundation was laid, settlers would cut down trees and square off the logs. These logs were then “notched” in the top and bottom of each end then stacked to form walls. The notched logs fitted snugly together at the corners of the cabin and held the walls in place. After the logs were stacked, gaps remained in the walls. Settlers had to jam sticks and wood chips into the gaps, then they filled in the remaining gaps with cement made from earth, sand, and water.
Fireplaces were built of stone and often had stick-and-mud chimneys.
Most cabins had dirt or gravel floors, which had to be raked daily to preserve their evenness.
Rustic log cabins in a fall setting located at Grayson State Park in Virginia.
Australia: The 1860 Land Act allowed free selection of crown land. This included land already occupied by the squatters, (wealthy landowners) who had managed to circumvent the law for years and keep land that they did not legally own.
The Act allowed selectors access to the squatters’ land, and they could purchase between 40 and 320 acres of crown land, but after that, the authorities left them to fend for themselves. Not an easy task against the wealthy, often ruthless squatters who were incensed at what they thought was theft of their land.
The Act of Selection was intended to encourage closer settlement, based on intensive agriculture. Selectors often came into conflict with squatters, who already occupied land and were prepared to fight to keep it.
The bitterness ran deep for many years, sometimes erupting into violence.
The first permanent homesteads on the Australian frontier were constructed using posts and split timber slabs. The posts were set into the ground, about three feet apart, according to the desired layout. Slabs of timber were then dropped into the slots. A sapling or similar, straight piece of timber ran across the top of the posts, which allowed them to be tied together so they could support the roof.
Sunset above Craigs Hut, built as the the set for Man from Snowy River movie in the Victorian Alps, Australia
Clay was often plugged in between the joins and splits of the cladding to stop droughts. The internal walls were sometimes plastered with clay and straw, lined with hessian/calico, whitewashed or simply left as split timber.
Roofs were pitched using saplings straight from the bush and often clad with bark. Early settlers learnt from the aborigines that large sheets of bark could be cut and peeled off a variety of trees and used as sheets to clad the roof.
Sebastian thought he was irredeemable. Will Carly’s love set him free?
Bounty hunter Sebastian Callum is ambushed and seriously wounded by the McSweeney gang.
He finds his way to Carly’s house and she and her young son give him sanctuary. But danger is an ever-present threat. And why does the littler boy think Sebastian is Jesus?
While nursing him back to health, Carly gives Sebastian her heart, even though he thinks he is an unworthy recipient. Will he accept this special gift from her?
If so, how far will a woman from his past go to keep them apart?
Readers can contact me via my FB author group. I would love to see you there. Or private message me on FB.
To find out more about my books please check out my Amazon link.
GIVEAWAY
One reader who leaves a comment, will win a $5 Amazon Gift Card. Have you ever been inside a log cabin? What do you think would be the biggest challenge of making a home on the frontier?
I’ve owned horses most of my life, from the time I was a preteen until a few years ago (we won’t mention how many decades there are in between). The very first horse I called my own was a bay gelding named Mac. That was it. Just Mac. He wasn’t particularly beautiful, but he was gentle and well-behaved. By the time I turned fourteen, I was ready for a more advanced horse, and we acquired Torno – short for Tornado. Now, he was a beauty. A striking black, high-stepping Saddlebred who sailed over fences. In college, I switched from English riding to Western and Baldy was my horse of choice. She was pie-bald mare with an entirely white face and pale blue eyes.
In all three cases, my horse came with an established name, and it seemed to fit them and their characteristics. Not that I would have changed it. As a youngster, I once read in book that changing a horse’s name was bad luck, and I believed it. Over the years, my husband and I came to own many dozens of horses and mules—some of them with silly or just plain awful names. Still, I wouldn’t change them. Instead, I’d come up with a tolerable, if not cute, nickname. A few of the more memorable ones were a pony named Tinkle and an older white swayback called Dumpy. I couldn’t bring myself to call them by those terrible monikers, so I dubbed them Tinker Bell and Dimples. I figured the nicknames were close enough to not rain any bad luck down on us.
I was also tasked with the job of naming the many babies we had and any nameless horse or mule that came to us. One of my favorites was a baby mule that we had after several years of trying and much money invested. The moment I saw him at a few hours old, I pronounced him Dollar, which made perfect sense. Eighteen months later, his full sister Penny was born. I mean, seriously, what else could I call her? A dun mare we fostered produced a handsome male foal that looked just like her, so I called him Son of a Dun, Sonny for short.
Not all the names I picked were humorous, although I admit I often leaned that way. Neither were all the names clever and original. We had our share of classics like Lady and Fancy and Patches. I named my favorite horse of all time Tiger because he was born in the year of the tiger. What mattered most is that somehow the names all came to fit the horse or mule.
Oh, and this doesn’t take into account all the names of fictional horses and bulls and even dogs that I had to come up with for books. I once had a fierce bucking bull called Orange Crush and most recently a diminutive mule I gave the name of Short Stack.
Just for fun, tell me, what would you name this silly fellow? Who knows? I just might use him and your suggestion in a future book ?
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Once upon a time I was a miner. Not for long, but long enough. I worked pretty deep, on the 6700 and 6900 levels of the Star Mine in Burke, Idaho. The level numbers indicate how far below the surface we were, so 6700 means that we were 6700 feet under the surface.
Howdy!
