Western Women

The Woman on the Ledge ~ by Pam Crooks

by

 

When we think of heroes of the Old West, we often picture someone on horseback, wearing a badge, or standing tall with a rifle in hand.

But sometimes a hero wears a long skirt, climbs through a window in the middle of a hurricane, and reaches into raging floodwater to save strangers.

The Great Storm of 1900

For those who have never been to Galveston, Texas, (I haven’t!) it’s located on a long, skinny-looking island on the southernmost edge of Texas with Galveston Bay on one side and the Gulf of America on the other. It’s pretty and scenic, and lots of cruise ships sail from there.  But the island is notoriously only a few feet above sea level, which makes it very prone to disasters.

Especially more so in 1900.

The Hurricane

On September 8, 1900, a devastating hurricane struck Galveston. Known today as the Great Storm of 1900, it remains one of the deadliest natural disasters in American history. Thousands perished as wind and water swept across the island, destroying homes, businesses, churches, and families in a matter of hours. The Galveston Historical Foundation notes that at least 6,000 people died, many by drowning or beneath collapsing debris. But because records were incomplete and entire families vanished, other sources estimate the death toll was even higher at 8,000 or even 12,000.  Yikes!

At the time, Galveston was a thriving island city—wealthy, busy, and important as a port. When the hurricane came ashore, storm tides of roughly 8 to 15 feet swept across the island. NOAA describes winds over 130 mph and a 15-foot storm surge.  Another yikes!

But as often happens, in the aftermath of unspeakable tragedy, stories of courage rise up like cream from fresh milk.

The Schoolteacher

One story remains today, 126 years later. Some say the story is legend. Others claim it’s real. But for the story to linger so long, with so many details to make it believable, I’d like to think this heroine deserves her place in the history books.

The story goes that a young schoolteacher took shelter inside the Hutchings, Sealy & Company Bank building on the Strand. The building was built in the 1890s and was one of the structures that survived the 1900 storm. It’s still in existence today.

As the storm surge rose—some accounts say as high as seventeen feet—the schoolteacher found herself above a city enveloped in darkness. I’d love to know how she got there, or if she was alone, but from the third floor, she climbed through a window and balanced on a narrow ledge. (You can see the ledges in the picture.) Then, instead of staying safely inside, she reached down toward the raging waters and pulled people from the water, one by one, and dragged them into the building.

Can you imagine the terror she might have felt? The roar of wind, the crash of debris, the screams of those being swept past? The darkness. The rain. The knowledge that one wrong move could send her into the flood, too?

Or maybe she didn’t feel any terror at all. Maybe she was so driven to help that her heroics took over and banished all fear from her head.

Some stories say she cared for survivors for several days afterward before dying of fever. Others say her name was lost to history, though later tellings call her Sara. Or Sarah. Because her identity is uncertain, we may never know whether her story is true.

I find that part frustrating. Of all the people she helped, and for several days after, no one thought to ask her name? Maybe at the time, names weren’t important, but “Sarah” does seem consistent, even though her last name has been lost forever.  And how sad that her family might never have known how heroic she was. Or how many lives she’d saved. Maybe her family all perished, and that makes the whole thing even more sad.

But I guess, writing about her in this blog, and reading it, is another way we can honor her, right?

Have you heard about Sarah, the schoolteacher, and her legend?

What kind of hero would you be? Quiet and unassuming? Or would you be okay doing interviews in front of TV cameras and on social media?  🙂 

If you had been in that bank building during the storm, do you think you would have had the courage to reach out and help?

Have you or someone close to you ever done anything heroic?

Have you ever been in a hurricane?

IF SHE WERE MINE — New Historical Coming Soon

by

Howdy!

Happy Tuesday!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Yes, I have a new historical romance coming soon.  This is book #6 in the Medicine Man Series.  It’s still in editing at the moment, but I heard from my editor today and she says she is almost done with the edits.  When this happens, it means about 2-3 weeks for me to do the edits and to get them thoroughly proofed and then getting it published, which can take a few days as well.  And, so I thought I’d put out a call for anyone who would like an ARC (Advance Reading Copy) of the book,  These ARC’s are sent out most usually to readers would like to do reviews.  It’s not necessary to do a review, of course, but this is most usually the reason an ARC is sent.

If you would like to have an Advanced Copy of the new Historical when it is released (or perhaps a little before), please let me know in the comments.

So, that said, I thought I’d give you an except of the new book.  We’ll start with the blurb and then an excerpt from the very beginning of the story (the Prologue).

If She Were Mine

by

Karen Kay

 

A star-crossed love, treachery, and desire that will not be denied.

Briella Feher is in love, but not with her fiancé. Her father has exiled her from the sweeping plains of Montana to New York City “for her own safety,” commanding her to marry within her heritage and class. Raised in Indian Territory, Briella was shaped as much by the Pikuni—Blackfeet—people as by her aristocratic Hungarian family. Viewed as a cowgirl, Briella doesn’t fit in with society. Perhaps it’s the guns she wears strapped to her evening gowns. Her heart has always belonged to Red Fox, the Pikuni medicine man who taught her to survive on the prairie, the man who was her teacher, her first love. When James Maximillian III proposes—with the condition that he keep his mistress—Briella accepts, seeing his proposal as her only path back to Montana and to Red Fox.

Two years apart have not cooled the fire between Briella and Red Fox, yet his honor won’t allow him to claim this woman who is promised to another. With the escalation of the Indian/Cavalry wars, Red Fox believes distance is the only way to protect the woman he loves. Then a vision reveals a devastating truth: Briella’s fiancé is hiding a lie that could shatter every vow. It’s now up to Red Fox to find the truth.

Time is running out, however, and forces are aligned against them. Can Red Fox find the proof and expose the treachery in time to alter the ending of their Romeo and Juliet romance, or will he lose Briella forever in a romance destined for tragedy?

PROLOGUE

Northwest Indian Country

Territory of the Blackfeet

The Month When Geese Come (May) 1871

Máóhkataatoyi, Red Fox watched as Pokaa’aakíí (Poka’aki), Child Woman, or as the white’s called her, Briella Fehér, raised her hand and shouted, “Watch me take down this buffalo calf with one shot!”

“Saa! Wait! Do not shoot! There are—”

BLAST!

It was too late! The damage was done. Hadn’t Poka’aki seen the buffalo herd hidden in the shallow, plain-like valley below?

And now the buffalo, having heard the shot, would assume hunters were close-by; it would cause them to stampede. But, perhaps their direction might be to run along the valley rather than to climb the hill and…

As Red Fox heard the unmistakable thunder of hundreds or perhaps thousands of the buffalo’s hooves coming closer and closer to him, he knew the stark reality of what this was: a stampede on its way—toward him and Poka’aki.

There is, perhaps, nothing more terrifying to the heart of a man than the sound of snapping wood, the whooshing of shrubs and bushes, as well as the quaking and ratting of the ground beneath one as the tremendous force and speed of a stampeding herd of buffalo was on the run.

Even now the air carried the dirt and rocks kicked high into the air by those buffalos’ hooves. With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew the herd would be here before Poka’aki had time to get out of the way, and, if she didn’t move fast enough, they would trample her to death.

“Get out of here!” he shouted and waved at her. “Quick! Leave here! Go! Fast!”

But he knew his words were useless. All sound was blocked except the thunder of the stampede.

In a time quicker than it takes to think it, Red Fox knew that George, who was Poka’aki’s brother as well as his own almost-brother, was too far away to come to Briella’s rescue. George had left their hunting party early in the morning, his intention being to return to the tribe and report this enormous herd of buffalo to the chiefs, letting them decide if they would call a tribal hunt of the buffalo or secure a buffalo caller to send the herd, one and all, over the cliff of the pisskan, the buffalo jump.

Inwardly, he cringed. Because of his and Poki’aki’s actions here today, the stampede would interfere with the tribe’s ability to obtain enough food for winter storage, if only because a stampeding herd of buffalo could run through the day and into the night, taking the vast supply of food completely out of Blackfoot territory.

This was why, when a large mass of buffalo had been spotted, the chiefs banned all hunting until the tribe’s men could, as a single body, hunt the game.

On this very day, the chiefs had sent both himself and George—two scouts—out from the camp to look for buffalo. No one in the tribe yet knew this large herd was even here. And yet, it would soon be gone.

The thunderous, ground shaking roar of the stampede caused all further thought to cease. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Red Fox caught sight of the black, horned creatures coming into sight and directly at him. Just then, his horse reared as a wave of the black, hairy beasts encompassed him and his mount, and pushed him and his pony in alongside of them.

With a quick action, Red Fox brought his pony under control. There was no running from them now, and, within the batting of an eye, Red Fox and his mount were caught up in the stampede…but he was on the other side of the herd from Poka’aki.

Because the sharp-horned cows enveloped him and crowded in on every side him, his pony was forced to keep time with the stampede; Red Fox spared a glance behind him to see blackened masses of the animals to the rear of him, seeming as though they were without end. There was to be no retreat from them.

Once more, he looked toward Poka’aki, seeing she was caught up within the herd, as was he. He had to save her—but how?

He was on the complete opposite side of the solid mass of charging buffalo. He knew well that even the best of horses could not last for long within a fleeing herd of these animals; the buffalo’s lungs were large and strong and the muscles in their legs were sturdy, allowing them to run both day and night without ever stopping.

But, not so a horse. Even the best buffalo horse could not long keep up with a running buffalo herd; instead, a good pony was trained to take his master toward a buffalo, allowing the man to grab quick shot and then to retreat, carrying himself and his rider to the side of the terrorized animals.

Glancing at Poka’aki on his left and across a field of the terror-stricken and plunging buffalo, he took stock of her horse…a three-year-old mare not trained to a buffalo run. Her horse wouldn’t last longer than a breath. Worse, Red Fox could see she had lost control of the reins, causing her to cling to the pony’s mane, the reins being dragged behind, which could be stepped on by a buffalo…

All Indian hunters know that the only way to remain alive in a buffalo stampede is to gradually guide one’s horse to the edge of the stampede and then leave the massive push of the herd. But without reins? How was she to guide her horse?

With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew Poka’aki ‘s chances of surviving the stampede were all but impossible.

But, she must survive! She must! She, the girl he had loved for so many years!

He had to get to her! Her horse would soon become tired and would be overrun by the sharp hooves of the buffalo pushing in on her from behind, trampling them both into the ground.

His one chance to save her was to guide his horse toward hers and then lead them both to the side. And, this he would do; this he must do.

In a moment out of time, he devised a plan. He knew that the buffalo do not see well; they follow the leading cow in front of them, creating little paths within the stampede.

Poka’aki was slightly ahead of him, and he counted three rows of the buffalo between himself and Poka’aki. All he had to do was to kill the buffalo on his left and take its place in the path behind the cow ahead. Over and over he would do this until her pony was on his left. Reaching down to pull his rifle from its case, he found the container empty.

Empty? Without a gun to clear each pathway to his left, how was he to get to her? Quickly, he reached behind him, his hand lingering for a moment over his bow and arrows. With the gun having taken the place of the bow and arrow for most Pikuni men, the quiver with bow and arrows was seldom worn anymore. However, today he had placed both upon his back, thinking to kill an animal quietly with the bow and arrow rather than announce where he was by the boom of a gun.

Pulling the bow from its quiver, as well as many arrows, he placed all but one arrow into his mouth, and, holding them with his teeth, he fitted the first arrow to his bow. He took aim.

Whish! The arrow went down well below the ribs, straight to the heart of the buffalo. The animal made only one more jump before it went down. With his knees, Rex Fox guided his pony into the downed buffalo’s place. He did the same with the next buffalo, taking its place.

Only one more row of the bulls and cows and he would be next to her. But, her horse was now plunging about madly, making it difficult for Poka’aki to stay her seat.

But, what was this? What was wrong with her saddle?

How could it have come loose? And yet, with another plunge, her saddle flew back onto the rear of her pony. Worse, she had lost her grip on the animal’s mane and was desperately holding onto the horses neck. All it would take was one more jump, and Poka’aki would fall from her horse and be trampled.

His heart stopped for a moment. But, he was only one pathway and a jump away from her horse. Quickly taking aim with another arrow, he shot at the buffalo closest to him right behind the ribs to the heart of the beast, and, as the buffalo went down, Red Fox and his pony took its place. Then, by whacking his bow on his horse’s flanks, he came to be even with Poka’aki. She was falling off her horse!

Reaching out to his left, he caught her by the waist and pulled her up onto his own mount, laying her crosswise in front of him.

Because the sharp horns of the buffalo were closing in around him again, he didn’t have a moment to set her up straight. Indeed, he knew his horse, with its double load could not long keep pace with the frightened buffalo, especially since Red Fox sensed his pony was winded. However, using his bow, he kept the animal in step with the buffalo, despite his pony fighting for breath. Then, taking up his bow again, he positioned another arrow to his bow, took aim and felled the buffalo to his left.

He did the same with his remaining arrow, and then all his arrows were gone. All he could do now was to force his horse into the remaining two rows of buffalo to his left, one at a time. Saying a prayer beneath his breath, he forced his pony into the next pathway of buffalo.

Only one more row of the stampeding herd remained, but his pony was clever and worked his way to the side again and into the pathway to the left. And then Red Fox steered his pony to the left again.

Free! At last, we are free!

Red Fox turned his mount again to the left, putting some distance between Poka’aki, himself and his pony from the stampeding buffalo. He reined his horse to a stop beneath a quivering pine. Jumping to the ground, Red Fox pulled Poka’aki off the pony, and when she would have collapsed in his arms, he held onto her tightly, pulling her closely against him.

He could feel her sobs at his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her, saying in a low voice, “It is over. We are alive. We survive.”

She was crying and in between gasps, she whispered, “I would be dead now if not for you.”

He didn’t know what to answer in response, and so he said only, “Come, you can sit beneath this tree and recover your breath while I go to find your bother. We must report what we have found to our chiefs.”

“No! Do not let me go! I beg you, do not let me go!”

With her face against his shoulder and she standing so closely in his arms, all of his energy suddenly focused on her instead of their narrow escape from death. Indeed, all of his bent-up emotions and the joy of his success was centered upon her and only upon her. And for a moment, he thought he had not only escaped death this day, but he might have found the white man’s heaven, as well.

How long was it now that he had loved Poka’aki? All those years ago, when her brother, George, had asked him to tutor her in the ways of the plains, who could have predicted he would fall in love with the girl? Certainly, he hadn’t foreseen it.

But, he had, indeed, surrendered his heart to her. However, she was younger than he by seven winters. And so, he had waited for her to grow up before turning his mind toward the idea of approaching her father with many horses and asking for her hand in marriage.

And so, in all these years, he had held himself back from declaring himself to her. He knew she liked him well enough, but so beautiful was she, he was a little afraid of her: fearful, he was, of her possible rejection of him. Or worse, she might agree to marry him simply because they were friends.

Even now, breathing in the sweet, yet fragrant scent of her, he remained silent, doing little more than savoring the moment.

Leaning her head back a little, she looked up into his eyes and, in a whisper, declared, “I am to blame for this. I almost killed you and me, too. And I…and I… I love you, Red Fox. I do not wish to leave this world without you knowing how I feel about you. Indeed, I think I have loved you since the day you first came here to tutor me, although I didn’t know it then. Since I have known you, I have been of the opinion of you being the handsomest of men; you, with your black hair, always so neatly braided and your dark, mysterious eyes. Always, you have appeared before me dressed in your best buckskin clothing and, when there have been times you have had to take off your shirt, I…I…have wondered what it might feel like if you were to hold me, to press your lips against mine.

“But, you are older than I and much taller, too, and I have had to wait to grow up a little. But, I have always looked upon you with the idea in mind that one day you will come to love me. And, if I were to have been the cause of your death here today, I do not believe I would ever be able to forgive myself, not even in the hereafter.”

She loves me? All this time she has loved me? She has even desired my embrace?

This couldn’t be real. He swallowed hard, gulping.

“Do you not feel it, too?” Poka’aki asked, her voice breathless. “I have seen the looks you have given me sometimes in the evenings when we sit around the fire. Please tell me. I am not making this up, am I? It is not all one-sided, is it? Do you love me, too?”

Red Fox shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then, slowly he bent his head to hers and touched his lips to hers. At their touch, every sense within him awoke to the splendor of her and his heart began beating as fast as it had been only moments ago when they had been swallowed up within the buffalo stampede.

Raising his head only slightly and inhaling deeply, he looked up into the heavens before bringing his lips down to hers yet again, and he kissed her once more, but deeply this time. His tongue opened her mouth to his persuasion, and thereupon, he proceeded to love her with his kisses, one after another, as though he were a hungry man and she were the only sweet thing that could satisfy him.

She kissed him back and as she did so, the world around him seemed to come alive. Indeed, the sun, shining down upon his shoulders, felt warmer. The wind seemed to join in with the sun in a kindlier fashion as it whirled around them, sharing its cooler temperature with them. Truly, it felt to him as though the life force of the earth and all of His creatures were as happy as he.

Bringing his head down toward hers, he touched his lips to hers yet again.

Áa! Magic! It was as though they had been waiting longer than mere years for this one, precious moment to declare themselves to one another.

How splendid it would be to make her his wife this day.  If he were to do so, it would put to rest the very real possibility of her father denying her to him.

After all, it was her brother, George, who had included him as a tutor for her all those years ago…not her parents. In truth, it was with a critical eye her parents, József and Mária Fehér, had watched him teach her to shoot, to ride, to track and hunt game as well as any man. Added to this, for the past month, Poka’aki’s elder brother, Frederic,—who lived in a faraway, eastern part of the Americas—was now temporarily in residence here in Pikuni country. And, though Frederic had brought with him his wife and their child for the visit, Frederic held himself and his immediate family aloof from all things Pikuni.

Niitá’p, indeed, since Frederic’s arrival, Red Fox had noted a change within her father’s behavior toward all things Pikuni, too.

Needing to breathe, Red Fox broke off the kiss, listening to his…and her strained breath. Then, a little huskily, and with a silent air of doubt in her voice, she asked, “You do love me, don’t you?”

So enamored was he with her, his voice was shaking when he answered, “Of course I do. For many years I have loved you. And, if I loved you a little less than I do, I would make you my wife now under the eye of the Creator, thus letting the world around us be joyful along with us or condemn us.”

“Oh, yes. Please.  I am ready to become your woman, your wife,” she whispered.

Once again, he shut his eyes as the throes of passion came over him. He was more than ready to cause them to marry. Did he dare?

Saa, no, he silently answered his own question; a good man would approach her father and ask for her hand in marriage. Besides, he did not wish to disrupt her family and his. After all, her other brother, George, was married to Red Fox’s sister.

Inwardly sighing, he realized it was true.

He swallowed, hard, bringing control over his impulses. No, this had to be done in the right way; it was his place to approach her father, bringing with him as many horses as he could gather together from his herd, since this was the traditional Pikuni way of asking for a woman to be his.

Moving his forehead down to hers, he said, “We will go to your father’s house tonight with many horses and I will ask your father to give you to me as my woman for all my life.”

She swooned in toward him, and said, “I will help you herd your horses my darling, handsome tutor. I am certain my father will say yes. After all, he speaks very highly of you and how you have patiently taught me how to survive on these plains.”

Red Fox, however, had his doubts about this. All he said, though, was, “Come with me as I go to the chiefs and report what has happened here. Then, together we will take all I can quickly find of my pony herd, excepting this animal who carried me to you this day. We will then ride to your father’s home and I will ask him to accept the horses I give him as he, likewise, gives you to me.”

“Yes,” she said, placing her arms around his neck and bringing his head down to hers once more. “Imagine. Soon I will be your wife.”

Laughing, she brought her lips up to his in a sweet, yet stirring kiss.

Ending the caress, Red Fox said, “Come, let us find your brother quickly and tell him our happy news. Then, we can all go to the chiefs and report what we have found concerning the buffalo herd. And, after we have made our report to our chiefs, we will seek out your father.”

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes. Let us hurry!”

IF SHE WERE MINE, coming soon!

 

 

Seasoned Women in the West

by

I don’t write historical western romance, I write contemporary romance. But, I was curious about women’s roles in the Old West, particularly seasoned women, and how that compares to women’s roles on ranches and cattle spreads today.

Googling gave me lots of information about older women in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. So did watching a lot of westerns on TV. If old westerns from the fifties and sixties are to be believed, seasoned women in places like Virginia City, Montana, and Denver and San Francisco ran the brothels and dance halls and saloons. Most with feather in their dyed red hair, a quick wit, and an iron hand.

Yet, some well-done films show us women who were resilient, tough and who endured great hardships. Have you ever seen Frank Capra’s 1951 film Westward the Women about a wagon train of women heading West to find husbands? The older women in that movie, Hope Emerson and Renata Vanni, were the glue that held that group of women together. In The Unforgiven, Lillian Gish (at 66) is stellar in the role of a mother who defends her family and her ranch. Helen Mirren in 1923 is a rock the Duttons depend upon and who fights fiercely for her family’s Montana ranch.

The women who came West on wagon trains and helped their husbands/fathers start ranches were the real tough ones though. They might have been living city life before, but once they landed in places like Montana and Wyoming and Colorado, they learned how to build a soddy—a house made of thick layers of prairie sod, how to plough and plant the dry land of the prairies, how to climb the rocky foothills to hunt down a stray calf or sheep, and how to hunt for food. They set snares, fished the rushing rivers and creeks, and even went after wildcats and bears. They plowed and planted so they would have the most basic subsistence foods. Life was hard and very often short with doctors being in short supply, winters hard, and illness and injuries frequently fatal.

Contemporary Western women of all ages fight just as fiercely and work just as hard as their nineteenth-century counterparts, although with a bit more assistance from modern technology. Wells are drilled now with machinery instead of dug by hand, fences are electrified, but they still have to be repaired, tractors beat hand plows all to heck, and 4-wheel-drivetrucks and Gators make getting around the vast acres much easier and faster. Cows still need hay, and calves still need to be birthed but computers make ranch organization much easier. Access to modern medicine, ambulances, and hospitals make live spans much longer; and although most ranch women grow big gardens even today, grocery stores make produce and dairy more readily available.

Today’s ranch women have different challenges than their nineteenth-century sisters, but the goal is the same—to make a success of the family farms and cattle spreads. When I write my contemporary heroines, I try hard to show spunky, tough ladies who can rope a cow, wrangle a herd of horses, and help birth a calf. But they’re also smart, fun, flirty women who can handle the ranch books, dance with skirts a swirlin’, and charm a cowboy right to his knees.

Where the Horses Slept: Life Inside an 1890s Livery Stable

by

Hello everyone, Winnie Griggs here. The heroine of my upcoming release, Ryland’s Promise, has an unusual occupation, at least for a female – she owns and operates a livery stable. So I thought I’d chat a little bit about that today.

When most folks picture the Old West, they think of cattle drives, dusty trails, and cowboys tipping their hats. But tucked into nearly every town—big or small—was a place just as essential to daily life: the livery stable.

These often-overlooked businesses were the heartbeat of a community’s transportation – for both people and cargo. Whether you were arriving in town, heading to church, or needing a rig for a supply run, the livery stable was where your journey started (and your horse got a break). They housed not just animals, but wagons, buggies, and the occasional bit of gossip, too.

And for the most part, they were run by men.

But not always.

Women Behind the Stalls?

Livery work was hard, dirty, and demanding—dawn to dark and then some. So when a woman stepped into that world, she had to be hardy, able, and commanding.

Occasionally, women inherited stables after the death of a father or husband. Others simply stepped into the role out of necessity. Either way, they had to earn respect in a world that didn’t expect—or always accept—a female behind the reins.

She’d need to:

  • Know horses better than most men
  • Manage equine boarders, livery staff, and finances
  • Maintain equipment and keep the books
  • And hold her chin up when folks questioned her place in the trade

It wasn’t for the faint of heart—but the right woman could not only survive, she could thrive.

Meet Josie Wylie

In my upcoming release, Ryland’s Promise, Josephine Wylie is one such woman. Practical, sharp, and steady as a trusted trail horse, she runs her family’s livery stable with grit and quiet pride. She’s spent years putting her family’s needs ahead of her own—until Ryland Everhart comes to town, passing through, determined to reach a friend in need, and with a way of unsettling her careful world.

Josie doesn’t go looking for romance—but sometimes, love comes calling, ready or not.

Livery Life by the Numbers

Want a peek into what life was really like behind those big barn doors? Here’s what you might find at a typical small-town Texas livery around 1892:

The Going Rate

  • Boarding a horse overnight: 25¢ to 50¢
  • Weekly boarding: $2–$3
  • Renting a saddle horse: 75¢ to $1.50/day
  • Buggy & horse combo: $1–$2/day
  • Buckboard or surrey rental: $2–$3/day
  • Extra feed or grooming care: 10¢–15¢

Rates could jump during holidays, fairs, or political rallies—when horses (and tempers) were in short supply.

Around the Clock
Most liveries were staffed 24/7. The owner or a hired stable hand usually slept in a tack room or up in the hayloft, ready to tend horses or meet late-night travelers arriving by stage or rail.

Where Did They Keep It All?

  • Horses were stalled inside the main barn, but overflow or short-term boarders were often kept in outdoor pens or corrals nearby.
  • Mules and draft teams might be housed separately or tied off outside under a lean-to.
  • Wagons, buggies, and buckboards were stored in sheds or under awnings, protected from the elements but easy to access.
  • Most stables had lofts for hay storage—and a place to sleep if you were the unlucky one on night duty.

Horse Sales, Too
Yes—many liveries bought and sold horses, either from their own stock or on consignment for locals. A trusted livery owner was often the town’s go-to for finding a sound riding horse or trading in a tired one.

And Let’s Be Honest…
Livery stables weren’t exactly fragrant. The scent of hay mixed with manure, horse sweat, and oil from the buggy wheels. But they were also places of quiet routine, skillful care, and—if you knew where to look—unexpected stories waiting to unfold.

What do you think? Did any of the above information surprise you? If so, what and why?

Or have you ever had a job—or read about one—that felt unusual for the time period or for the person doing it? Whether it’s a female blacksmith in a novel or your own unexpected career path, I’d love to hear about it!

Drop your thoughts in the comments and you’ll be automatically entered in a drawing for your choice of any of my backlist books.

RYLAND’S  PROMISE

A promise fulfilled. A heart awakened. A Christmas he’ll never forget.

When Texas rancher turned Philadelphia lawyer Ryland Everhart returns to Texas, he’s too late. Belle, the childhood friend he’d come to see, has passed away—leaving behind a young daughter and one final request. Though Ry was delayed by unexpected violence and never heard her ask it aloud, she named him guardian… and he’s determined to honor that trust.

Josephine Wylie has always put her family first, even if it means shelving her own hopes. She’s sure Ry is the perfect match—for her sister. Putting him in the role of head of the family, she believes, will finally free her to live out her dreams. But as Christmas draws near and Ry settles into their lives, Josie begins to see something more than obligation in his eyes—and something far more dangerous in her own heart.

Guided by the weight of a promise and the quiet pull of unexpected affection, Ry must decide whether doing right by Belle’s daughter means walking away—or daring to stay and claim a future he never imagined.

(NOTE: This book was previously published under the title The Christmas Journey)

Preorder Link

Welcome Guest KyLee Woodley

by

Inspiring Women of the West

Hi, everyone. I’m KyLee Woodley, and I’m delighted to join you here at Petticoats & Pistols to talk about my love for strong, western women.

When people read the tag line for my book—A holdup gone wrong, a reluctant outlaw, and the captive she’s sworn to guard—they often pause after the last clause and say something along the lines of, “Wait the outlaw is a woman?” To which I respond, “Yep.”

The female bandit element sets book one apart in the Outlaw Hearts series because western lovers find the outlaw motif thrilling; throw in the fact that she is a woman, and you have the start of a compelling character. But what drives a female bandit who is still smart, ladylike, and brave? Let’s look at the historical women who helped to inspire Lorraine Durand—the heroine of The Bandit’s Redemption.


“God intended women to be outside as well as men, and they do not know what they are missing when they stay cooped up in the house.” – Annie Oakley

Annie Oakley (1860–1926) was born in a log cabin in Darke County, Ohio, and grew up in poverty. She honed her shooting skills by hunting game to feed her family. When she was still in her teens, a local hotel owner invited her to compete in a sharpshooting contest against professional marksman Frank E. Butler, whom she later married. They joined Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show in the 1880s. Annie, known as “Little Miss Sure Shot,” was famous for her sharpshooting and trick performances, including shooting coins in the air, rifle spinning, breaking glass balls midair, and performing blindfolded shots.

Like Annie, Lorraine is a performer. Having spent part of her childhood with a Romani band outside Paris, where she learned acrobatics and equestrian skills, she used these abilities to make her way in America. Her expertise and moral compass landed her the job of robbing a gold shipment. At the beginning of the book, her gang of outlaws overtakes a wagon full of gold guarded by the hero. Lorraine, riding horseback, stands in the saddle and vaults herself into the wagon, knocking the driver and guard unconscious before one of the gang members can shoot them.


“I name you Calamity Jane, the heroine of the plains.” ~ Captain Egan

The next female heroine of the West that inspired Lorraine is Martha “Calamity” Jane (1856–1903). Since first reading about her, I have felt a deep sense of sadness on her behalf—mainly because she had to survive from such a young age and died alone. Still, her life told through the lens of a dime novel was impressive. Calamity Jane was bold, strong, intimidating, and ruthless. Orphaned at a young age, she had to rely on her skills to survive. Jane worked in men’s clothes when necessary and was even a scout for George Armstrong Custer.

Lorraine too lost both her parents and had to survive on her own. She relied on her skills, as did Calamity Jane. Lorraine also wore men’s clothes when the job called for it, but she enjoyed the tug of skirts about her waist and the support of a proper corset. Lorraine first appears in the book wearing a Stetson cowboy hat, britches, chaps, and boots, but when the gang of outlaws must travel by train, she changes into a sky blue summer dress, complete with a bustle, ruffles, French lace, soft cotton undersleeves, and a forward-tilting hat adorned with feathers and ribbon. She is a character that blends the ruggedness of the frontier with the grace and elegance of a lady.

 

In a small way Miss Pearl Hart (1871 – 1955) inspired Lorraine Durand’s character because of this simple quote from the Cosmopolitan when they said Hart was “just the opposite of what would be expected of a woman stage robber,” though, “when angry or determined, hard lines show about her eyes and mouth.” Lorraine is attractive and of a modest stature. She is generally quiet and melancholic, and unlike Calamity Jane, does not come across as intimidating.

However, when provoked, she can be quite formidable as Jesse seems to realize in the quote below.

Lorraine drew her Colt, the solid handle a comfort in her palm. She twirled it, took aim at the log just behind his head, then holstered it. “Just remember this—I may be the smallest, but I am the fastest.”

“And the meanest. Likely the best aim and the smartest too. All the more reason not to ask you for assistance.” He held her gaze, eyes veiled beneath thick lashes. “That, and the fact that you are a lady.”

 

Finally, Etta Place was a beautiful, young outlaw who ran with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’s gang, known as the Wild Bunch. She had a romantic relationship with Sundance (and possibly Butch). Her origins and death remain shrouded in mystery, making her a figure ultimately lost to history. Some reports claim she sought the Sundance Kid’s death certificate in Chile years after he escaped, later residing in San Francisco. Others believe she married boxing promoter Tex Rickard. Another theory suggests she returned to teaching after Butch and Sundance left the US.

Lorraine too mirrors Etta Place because she lives a private life, sometimes using aliases when needed and is intelligent and attractive. Like Etta, she is a private person. Etta tried to stay out of the limelight, so to speak, as does Lorraine so much so that when her face ends up on a wanted poster (spoiler alert), she takes measures to change her appearance and avoid capture.

I hope you enjoyed these simple comparisons between Lorraine Durand and these truly unique historical women. If you enjoy a historical western romance with thrilling adventure, The Bandit’s Redemption is a must-read. This is a story about a female outlaw with a dangerous past and a disgruntled heir suffering recent tragedy. In a treacherous journey across the Idaho Territory, they will have to trust each other to find the freedom they seek.

Giveaway!

KyLee is giving away one print copy of The Bandit’s Redemption to someone who leave a comment.

Who are some unconventional women you admire?

A holdup gone wrong, a reluctant outlaw, and the captive she’s sworn to guard.

Life in the American West hasn’t been easy for French refugee Lorraine Durand. She has precious few connections and longs to return to her native land. So when the man who rescued her from a Parisian uprising following the Franco-Prussian War persuades her to help him with a deadly holdup, she reluctantly agrees. Despite his promises otherwise, the gang kidnaps a man, forcing Lorraine to grapple with the fallout of her choices even as she is drawn to the captive she’s meant to guard.

Jesse Alexander must survive. If not for himself, then for the troubled sister he left behind in Los Angeles. At the mercy of his captors, he carefully works to earn Lorraine’s trust, hoping he can easily subdue her when the time comes. But as they navigate the treacherous wilderness and he searches for his opportunity to escape, he realizes there may be more to her than he first believed.

With danger lurking at every turn, they must decide whether to trust each other enough to plan a combined escape or risk falling prey to the gang’s devious schemes.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books | Kobo

 

KyLee Woodley is a cheery romantic who loves to write about bygone days and heartwarming romance with a pinch of adventure. She teaches at Baylor University’s lab school in Texas where she lives with her husband of 18 years and their three teenage children. She is a writer for Wild Heart Books and is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency. On weekends, KyLee cohosts and produces the Historical Bookworm Show—a steadily growing author interview podcast for history lovers and readers of historical fiction.

In her spare time, she cares for a rescue mutt—Lucky—a feisty feline named Hazel, and two adorable Boston Terrier puppies. She listens to Cricket Country and K-Love radio, reads classic books with her children, and watches Marvel movies with her husband, who might resemble Superman.

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest

A Wild West Train Robbery in Oregon

by

When I was researching historical details to incorporate into Luna, my sweet romance that releases July 2, I happened across an article about a train robbery that took place in July 1914.

The timing was perfect for my story set during the summer of 1914.  And how exciting to have my hero and heroine on a train that was getting robbed!  It’s referred to as one of the last Wild West train robberies, and one of the last that had a six-shooter involved in the shoot-out. It was such a newsworthy event, newspapers all over the region carried the story of the robbers who picked the wrong train.

Clarence Stoner

Clarence Stoner was a cousin to two of the West’s notorious outlaws, Hugh and Charles Whitney, and a member of Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch gang in Wyoming.

Albert Meadors
Charles Manning

In the summer of 1914, he was in Oregon, running around with a gambler named Charles Manning and an outlaw sheepman from Kentucky named Albert Meadors.

The three of them hatched a plan to rob Train No. 5, an Oregon & Washington Railway Navigation Co. passenger train. In real life, the robbery happened in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t figure out a reason to put my characters on the train then, so I took a bit of creative license with the timeline and made it the afternoon.

The would-be robbers received word the train would be carrying a big payroll in the express car. The point where they planned to rob the train was a bit of genius. They chose a remote spot between Kamela and Meacham, at the summit of the Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon. The train would slow down there to check its brakes, and that’s when they planned to rob the train.

When the train neared the summit and slowed to check the brakes, out came the guns, and the outlaws set their plans in motion. They collected all the train crew members, starting at the back of the train. One of the porters was shining shoes when he was forced to leave his post at gunpoint, and reportedly carried the shoe in his hand all the way to the baggage car where the outlaws would keep the crew. As they moved through the train, Manning pulled the emergency stop, and the train came to rest a few dozen yards past the crest of the summit, nose down on a 2.5 percent winding downhill grade with the airbrakes locked (for those who are train aficionados – yes, that was a very bad thing!).

Stoner went forward to get the engineer and fireman, bringing them back to the locked baggage car. Manning approached the express car and demanded entry. The clerk opened the door, and Manning soon learned there was no money inside. The outlaws were robbing the wrong train.

Instead of cutting their losses and disappearing, they decided to rob the passengers. Stoner was left to guard the train crew at the baggage car while Manning and Meadors started going through the passenger cars, stealing money and jewelry.

It just so happened that one of the passengers was Morrow County Deputy Sheriff George McDuffy. He watched as the robbers made their way toward him, waiting until they were distracted, then pulled his single-action six-shooter.

Who shot first varies, depending on which account of the event you read, but Manning shot McDuffy in the chest and the bullet hit his pencil case, which likely saved his life. Reportedly, McDuffy shot Manning through the heart, and the second shot hit close to the first. A third shot to the head ended the outlaw’s life. McDuffy’s shots, though, filled the car with smoke and made it hard to see.

Meadors escaped and was reportedly heard yelling at Stoner to run.

The outlaws had purchased a getaway car. It isn’t clear if the car was stolen, they couldn’t find it, or the getaway driver took off, but when Meadors and Stoner got back to where the car was supposed to be, it was gone, and they were left to escape on foot. They were caught walking along the railroad tracks twenty miles from the scene of the crime.

Thankfully, the brakes held until the train could get underway, otherwise the entire load of passengers and crew may have died in a train crash that day.

As for the two outlaws, Stoner reformed himself when he got out of prison and lived a fairly normal life, purchasing a farm in Idaho and leaving his career in crime behind him. Meaders was just getting started on a life of crime. After the train robbery, he was in and out of prison for any number of crimes including burglary, bootlegging, and even manslaughter.

Deputy Sheriff McDuffy was hailed as a hero and was able to return to his home after spending time recovering at the hospital in Pendleton. You can read about the robbery in an article on Offbeat Oregon, or old newspaper articles.

And you can read about Hunter and Luna, my hero and heroine, and their experiences during the robbery in Luna, coming July 2!

She’s searching for peace and grace

He’s ready to step into his next big adventure

Haunted by memories of the fateful day that changed her life, Luna Campanelli seeks a fresh start in Pendleton, Oregon. Life in the wild western town is nothing like she imagined, although the rugged beauty of the area soothes her troubled spirit. An unlikely friendship with one of the area ranch hands lifts her hopes, until she discovers the cowboy isn’t who he’s led her to believe.

Hunter Douglas didn’t intend to hide his identity from the woman he met on the train, but when she assumed he was his sister’s hired hand, he didn’t correct her. He never anticipated forming such a deep connection to her, especially when thoughts of her continue to infiltrate his carefully made plans. As a recent college graduate with an inheritance he intends to use to start his own ranch in Pendleton, Hunter must decide if he is willing to open his heart and include Luna in his future.

Will they embrace the unexpected love that has blossomed between them, or let fear tear them apart?

This sweet and wholesome romance is a story of love, healing, and the power of hope in a delightful western setting. Join Luna and Hunter on their journey as they discover what it truly means to love unconditionally.

What would you do if you found yourself in the midst of a train robbery? 

Share your answer for a chance to win a mystery prize! 

 

Fun Facts about Western Women by Carmen Peone

by

Being a Western woman means different things to different women. However, there are principles we all live by.  

But let’s begin by defining a Western Woman.  

She is: 

  • A woman who loves the West. 
  • A woman who lives the lifestyle: writer, poet, artist, horsewoman, working ranch woman, musician, singer, rodeo cowgirl, etc.  
  • A wife. 
  • A mother. 
  • A single woman.  
  • Entrepreneur within the Western lifestyle: agriculture, ranching, horse trainer, veterinarian, etc.    

And we all have our favorite quirks and sayings. Some of them include: 

  • The ranch is hard work from sunup to sundown, and love’s work is always near.  
  • Be quick to mend fences.  
  • You can’t keep trouble from visitin’, but you don’t have to offer it a seat at the table. 
  • If a man thinks a woman who can wrestle steers, ride broncs, and rope the wind is too much for him, he’s darn tootin’ right.  
  • A Western woman stands up for what’s right, even if she stands alone.  
  • Catch your own horse, don’t let anybody else do it for you.  

You can find these gritty traits in Rita Runninghorse, the heroine of my latest Contemporary Western Romance, Broken Bondage.  

She’s tough, tender, a fighter, a horsewoman, a rancher, a daughter, a fiancée, and a sister. She’s also on the run from her abusive fiancé.  

He’s nothing but trouble, and she’s had enough.  

More about Broken Bondage 

A Road Trip to Redemption

Rita Runninghorse is about to marry the wrong guy. She has to get away from him. Now. She flees to a guest ranch in Eastern Washington State that offers a safe haven for women in need only to find the owner on a month-long speaking tour.

Robert Elliot has one thing on his mind: bronc riding. The Indian National Finals Rodeo is within reach, and he’s not about to let anything ruin his chances of going pro. Not even the woman he finds asleep in the stall of their rankest horse.?

When Rita’s fiancé discovers where she’s hiding out, she takes Robert’s offer to go with him on the road and prays her fiancé gives up the hunt. Saddled together, Rita and Robert must rely on each other as they go on the road to keep her alive. 

Grab your copy here!  

Giveaway

Leave a comment about a trait you admire in western women for a chance to win a copy of Broken Bondage. 

Winner can select either e-book or a signed print copy (US only for print).

About Carmen 

Carmen Peone is an award-winning author of Young Adult and Inspirational Western Romantic Suspense and lives with her husband in Northeast Washington and on the Colville Confederated Indian Reservation. With the love of history and the Western woman’s lifestyle, she weaves threads of healing, hope, and horses that lead to happily ever after. 

Connect with Carmen 

Website and Blog|Facebook|Twitter|Instagram
Pinterest|BookBub|Goodreads 

Sign up for her newsletter and receive her novella, Gentling the Cowboy, for free.
Click here: https://bit.ly/3WyltBG 

Petticoats & Pistols