Women in History

Eliza Barchus – The Oregon Artist

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Since it is Women in History Month, I thought I’d share about a woman who is no longer well-known, but her career added beauty to the world around her.

Eliza Barchus was an artist who eventually became known as “The Oregon Artist.”

Born in 1857 in Salt Lake City, Utah, Eliza didn’t recall much about her father, other than that he died when she was young. When she was seventeen, she wed John Lansing. The couple had two children, one of whom died in infancy, before the marriage “failed” and they divorced. Eliza then wed John Barchus and the couple moved to Portland with her daughter Isabel in 1880. They had a daughter who died at birth, then a son, Harold, and another daughter, Agnes.

With an admiration for Western landscapes, Eliza began taking art lessons in 1884 from Will S. Parrott, who was known at the time as the “foremost artist” of  Portland.” Eliza sold her first painting of Mount Rainier for $1  a year later.

In 1887 she won a gold medal at the Portland Mechanics Fair Art Exhibition for a painting of Mount Hood.

In 1890, a large oil painting she’d made of Mount Hood was displayed in New York City at the National Academy of Design and was considered quite an honor. It was also that year that several of her paintings were displayed at the Portland Hotel at the cigar and souvenir concession area. Her husband, who suffered from ill health, went south in the winter and persuaded an art emporium in Los Angeles to sell her paintings as well.

To supplement the family income, Eliza began to barter paintings for work by carpenters, plumbers, and other tradesmen as well as professional services from a dentist and physician. Eliza also sold her paintings, but to create additional income she sold modestly priced color postcards and illustrated brochures with reproductions of her work. Those marketing techniques helped immensely when her husband passed in 1899 and Eliza became the sole supporter of her family.

She produced thousands of paintings in what was referred to as an “assembly line” style  of working on several canvases at once, doing similar parts on each canvas, that kept a roof over their heads, but was sometimes criticized. She advertised her paintings in catalogs and developed a good business through the mail.

In 1901, Eliza exhibited several paintings at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. Four years later, she won a gold medal at the Lewis & Clark Centennial Exposition in Portland for a collection of her Pacific coast landscapes.

Through the 1920s, Eliza traveled the Western United States, painting everything from the Cascade Range volcanoes to the Columbia Gorge, Yellowstone Falls, Yosemite National Park, San Francisco Bay, and hundreds of other locations.

She worked primarily with oils through the 1930s. Her career ended in 1935 when arthritis and failing eyesight made it impossible for her to continue painting. She lived to the age of 102. Eleanor Roosevelt marked Eliza’s 100th birthday in her syndicated column. Eliza had a long career, sustained by her business intelligence and her talent and skill.

After her death, the Oregon Legislative Assembly declared her “The Oregon Artist.” Today, examples of her work may be found in art collections in Portland and around the country.

Do you have a favorite artist?

What do you love most about their artwork?

To stay up on our latest releases and have some fun, too, join our Facebook Reader Group HERE!

 

Babies, Babies, & More Babies ~ By Pam Crooks

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It’s Women’s History Month!

Every year, by presidential proclamation, March is designated Women’s History Month in which the entire month is set aside to honor women’s contributions in American history.

Here on this blog, we’ve featured many women throughout the west who have made a name for themselves in some way. Calamity Jane, Belle Starr, Annie Oakley, Stagecoach Mary… the list goes on and on.

But I recently came across a different woman who wasn’t from the west. In fact, she was from the south–Georgia, to be exact–but she certainly made plenty of contributions in her life to make her worthy of honor and notoriety during Women’s History Month.

Mary Francis Hill Coley was an African-American woman born in 1900 in rural Baker County, Georgia. She learned midwifery at a young age through an apprenticeship instead of attending formal medical school. By her early adulthood, she’d gained enough hands-on experience to achieve the reputation of being one of the most trusted and compassionate midwives serving the communities around Albany, earning the loving name of “Miss Mary.”

“Every baby is a little bit of heaven sent down to earth.”

As most of us with children probably already know, babies don’t decide to be born conveniently during the daytime. Many a husband came knocking on Mary’s door in the middle of the night, frantic that his wife had gone into labor and needed help. Mary kept her medical bag ready on her nightstand. With bag in hand, she’d put on her coat and head out, oftentimes walking long distances down dark country roads if transportation wasn’t available.

“The baby is not the only patient.”

But she did more than just deliver babies. She also:

• provided prenatal guidance, including strongly advising regular doctor visits for crucial examinations at her clinic
• helped families prepare for delivery by offering them a box of linens, baby clothes, and reading materials
• assisted mothers during long home labors, checking them carefully under sanitary conditions
• cared for both mother and newborn for several hours afterward, giving advice, aiding in breastfeeding, and after care.

You’re probably wondering if she had children of her own. She sure did. In 1930, she married Ashley Coley, a carpenter, and they went on to have ten children together. Then, for reasons not revealed, he up and left her to raise those ten kids by herself.

Can you imagine?

But she endured, thanks to her successful midwifery and practical nursing career. While serving her community, she was still able to support her large family as well as buy her own home, a car, a telephone, supplies for emergencies, and even hire an assistant to help with births and visits.

In the early 1950s, the Georgia Department of Public Health wanted to create a documentary film about safe childbirth practices to educate midwives. The result was “All My Babies: A Midwife’s Own Story” (1953), directed by George C. Stoney. Mary Coley was chosen as the central figure – not actors – and the film was used for years to train midwives across the United States and internationally. It was the first time the general public was able to view a real birth on screen, and today the film is considered one of the most important public-health documentaries ever made.

I watched the black-and-white film on YouTube. Mary is very loving, soft-spoken, and efficient as she cares for two separate mothers ready to give birth as well as postpartum. Her knowledge of the importance of sanitation was clear in her work, whether it was washing her hands, boiling her instruments, using freshly-laundered linens or sanitized cloths to clean both mother and baby.

By the time she died in 1966, according to her grandson, she had raised eleven children and delivered 3,700 babies, many of them documented on a large bulletin board in her clinic.

She’s certainly deserving to be honored during Women’s History Month, don’t you think?

If you’ve ever given birth, did you use a midwife at home? A doula? Or did you prefer a hospital setting?  Was there someone with you that you couldn’t have done without?

To stay up on our latest releases and have some fun, too, join our Facebook Reader Group HERE!

 

The Cattleman’s Sweetheart by Sherry Shindelar–and a giveaway

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Mary Ann (Molly) Dyer met Charles Goodnight in 1864 at Fort Belknap, Texas. The Civil War, in its last year, had taken a toll on the Texas frontier. Charles, a former scout and ex-Texas Ranger, was part of the Frontier Regiment, a Texas militia assigned to protecting the frontier from Indian attacks. On his way to becoming one of the founders of the Texas cattle drives, Charles kept a herd of cattle on the side within riding distance of the fort.

The petite school teacher caught the eye of the rough and tumble soldier/scout/cattleman.

Molly wasn’t born to the hard life of the frontier. However, in 1854, a pledge her father made to Sam Houston led to her leaving the tranquil, civilized life of a prominent lawyer’s daughter in Tennessee and immigrating to Texas with her family. Settlers were just beginning to trickle into the lands surrounding Fort Belknap in the mid 1850’s, and Comanche raids were a constant threat.

Molly’s parents died a few years later, and she was left to support her three youngest brothers. She could have packed up and headed home to Tennessee. Instead, she stuck to the frontier and became a school teacher. As the Civil War ripped the nation apart, the Texas frontier rolled back a hundred miles in some places due to Indian raids. Fort Belknap hovered at the edge of what remained.

Molly was a smart, gutsy woman with a heart for others. Her strength and courage were as enduring as the prairie sun. Charles was a fighter, and a natural born frontiersman, who didn’t know the word “quit.” The spark of attraction between them that sprang to life in 1864 flourished into an acquaintance and courtship that endured Charles’s months or even year-long cattle drives as he mapped out the Goodnight-Loving Trail and started making a name for himself and worked to build an empire.

By 1868 and 1869, Molly was teaching in Weatherford, Texas, the supply hub for Charles’s cattle drives. She’d had enough of the extended courtship. This was the man she wanted to spend her life with, and he needed to make a decision. Eventually, she told him he needed to propose or be done courting. He married the love of his life in July 1870.

The refined school teacher traveled west with the rancher to the rough country near Pueblo, Colorado. They settled down on Charles’s ranch, but eventually, they found their true home in the Palo Duro Canyon, a 800 foot deep, ten to twenty mile wide canyon that stretched for one hundred and twenty miles. Together, they eventually managed over a million acres and more than a 100,000 cattle.

Molly and Charles’s love endured long stretches of time apart, with cattle drives keeping him away for several seasons at a time. With only one female neighbor in the vast area of the canyon, Molly befriended the cowboys at the ranch and the occasional Indian that traveled through.

Sherry Shindelar Website

 

She would often go six months or a year without seeing anyone while the men were away on cattle drives. The beautiful walls of Palo Duro, colored like red Spanish skirts, must have felt like the end of the earth at times. But Molly thrived. She ran the ranch in her husband’s absence and was a friend to all in need, including the buffalo.

 

 

 

 

 

Her heart ached for the baby bison orphaned by the wholesale slaughter of the herds from the late 1860’s through the 1880’s. She rescued and cared for the calves, bottle-feeding them when needed. Her efforts helped save the southern buffalo from extinction.

 

Throughout the Goodnight’s fifty-six year marriage, Charles was a man who enjoyed the thrill of adventure and the unknown, willing to take great risks, gaining and losing land and wealth in the process. Molly was his foundation, the North Star of his compass.1 For his sake, she endured the loneliness of an entire canyon, but instead of being defeated, she thrived in his world and made a name for herself alongside his. She was described as a bubbly person, full of energy and heart. The spark of attraction ignited in 1864 between the school teacher and the cattleman blazed into an enduring flame that neither distance, time, hardship, or differences could snuff out. After her death, Charles “lost himself,” because he’d lost the keeper of his heart.

The epitaph inscribed on Molly’s gravestone reads, “One who spent her life in the service of others.”

Charles Goodnight makes a cameo appearance in the third book of my Lone Star Redemption series, Texas Reclaimed. Goodnight’s wild bronc ride in the story is a real event, but the real love in my story sparks between Ben McKenzie and Cora Scott.

To win a copy of Texas Reclaimed, leave an answer to this question in the comments below: If you were Molly Goodnight, would you have stayed behind on the ranch all of those months alone, or you would you have insisted on going with your husband on the cattle drives? Why?

 

  1. Botkin, Jane Little. “I Accepted a Challenge: Researching and Writing Mary Ann Goodnight’s Story.” com/2024/03/i-accepted-a-challenge-researching-and-writing-mary-ann-goodnights-story/. 11 March 202

 Originally from Tennessee, Sherry loves to take her readers into the past. A romantic at heart, she is an avid student of the Civil War and the Old West. When she isn’t busy writing, she is an English professor, working to pass on her love of writing to her students. Sherry is a multi-award-winning writer. She currently resides in Minnesota with her husband of forty-one years. She has three grown children and three grandchildren. Sherry is currently writing the fourth book in her Lone Star Redemption series. The series is set on the Texas frontier in the 1860’s and features some of her favorite tropes: enemies to lovers, captive narrative, Native Americans, scarred heroes, and feisty heroines.

Texas Reclaimed

Can love blossom between a woman haunted by her family’s past and a man with a war-scarred heart?

Cora Scott is determined to hold onto her family’s Texas ranch and provide a stable home for her young half brother, Charlie, despite the mounting challenges of post-Civil War frontier life. But when a scheming creditor threatens to seize their land, she must accept help from Ben McKenzie, a former Yankee soldier sent by her late brother. Though Ben’s generosity and strength draw her, the man’s private struggle she stumbles upon—too reminiscent of her father’s alcoholism—makes her question whether she can trust her heart to him.

Ben McKenzie arrives in Texas intent on fulfilling his promise to his dying friend to protect Cora and Charlie. While using his inheritance to save their ranch, he battles not only the loss of their cattle but also his dependency on laudanum—a medicine that turned into a curse after his imprisonment at Andersonville. As his feelings for Cora deepen, he must choose between his promise to his father to take over their Philadelphia newspaper and his growing dream of a life with Cora in Texas.

Come in and let’s chat.

Goldie Griffith, One of a Kind

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

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

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

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

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

Dr. Grace Danforth, a Remarkable Woman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Molly and the Hello Girls

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My latest release, a wholesome historical romance set in World War I, just released July 11.

Molly is the story of an American Expeditionary Forces Signal Corps switchboard operator (also known as a Hello Girl) and a soldier who is tough yet tender.

When I was researching information for Sadie’s story,  the first WWI book I wrote, I discovered a little information about the Hello Girls who served during World War I.

I thought it would be an incredible thing for Molly, Sadie’s sister, to become one of the Hello Girls. When I dove into the research for this book, I learned so much about these amazing women! They were intelligent, impressive, and inspiring. Although it took them sixty years to be recognized by the Army in which they served, they are credited with opening the door to women serving in the U.S. Army.

In April 1917, America declared war on Germany and joined World War I. Soon after,  General John J. Pershing was tasked with leading the American Expeditionary Forces (which would become the US Army) and went to France to begin the arduous task of preparing for the arrival of American soldiers. He had an overwhelming task ahead of him and soon realized a better telephone system was needed, as well as highly trained operators. In America at that time, most switchboard operators were women.

For the most part, men operating the switchboards lacked the patience, courteousness, and the dexterity to connect calls at a rapid pace. If someone called in yelling orders in their ear, they were just as inclined to hang up as transfer the call. The French operators didn’t always understand English and often lacked the sense of urgency for the call. Calls were delayed, or not placed at all. The need for American women to operate the switchboards for the Army became quite clear.

Advertisements were placed in newspapers across the country in late 1917 and early 1918 asking for women who were fluent in both French and English and could understand French spoken on a telephone line, since the switchboards were connected to the French government as well as the American military in France. The call to “serve your country” as telephone operators was answered by 7,600 women. Although there were age requirements, some of the girls fudged a bit, afraid they’d be turned down. More than 400 women were trained, and 223 were sent to France, becoming the first women to directly contribute to combat operations in American history.

 

Hello Girls

They were the first women in the Army.

When the first unit arrived in France in March 1918, under the leadership of Chief Operator Grace Banker (who was an amazing individual), it was taking an average of sixty seconds for a call to be placed.

Grace Banker

Under the leadership of Grace, the average call placement time dropped to ten seconds. By the end of the war, the Hello Girls had connected over twenty-six million calls.

The girls didn’t all go at once. There were seven units, but the Armistice was signed before the girls in the seventh group could leave New York. The sixth unit arrived in October. I chose to make Molly part of the fourth unit because of their arrival time in France in July. It worked so well with my story’s timeline.

The girls were required to purchase their own uniforms, which was an expensive endeavor. In today’s money, the uniforms would have cost around $5,000-$6,000. The uniforms made them a functioning unit, and helped in their integration.

The Hello Girls were given orders to wear their uniforms at all times, to not socialize with civilians or privates, and to not keep journals or diaries (thank goodness some of them, like Grace Banker, broke the rules and recorded details so important to history!).

Some of the girls served in cities where they had pleasant accommodations and a Y.W.C.A. hostess to keep an eye on them. Other girls were in quaint villages, several of them sharing a house or room. Then there were the girls who ended up in tar paper shacks lined with newspaper and discarded maps to keep out the weather.

Grace Banker and a handful of operators were on the front lines. At one point, their barracks caught fire, and the women went on with their duties while soldiers rescued their belongings. Grace later found her toothbrush in a shoe.

More than thirty of the women received individual commendations, and Grace Banker was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.

The girls wrote about the importance of their duty. How one transferred call could save a life, or an entire battalion.

The AEF honored the Signal Corps girls with a special memento booklet for Christmas 1918. They also took up a collection to purchase gifts for them.

When the war ended, the work of the Signal Corps women was still needed. Slowly, over the months of 1919, they began to return home. The last girls left France in 1920.

Their return home was not what they expected. Despite serving under commissioned officers, wearing military discs of identification (the World War I equivalent of dog tags), wearing rank insignia on the sleeves of their uniforms with Army buttons, swearing the Army Oath, being subject to courts-martial—after all that, the Hello Girls were informed they were “civilian contractors” instead of soldiers. The Army attorneys argued the women recruited to the Signal Corps were civilian employees “engaged under contract,” although none of the girls signed a contract. They were treated, for all intents and purposes, like they were part of the Army while they served, then ignored by the military when they returned. Because the Army refused to acknowledge them as soldiers, they were not eligible for bonuses, insurance, medical care, military burials, or any of the things the military afforded the men who served in World War I.

Merle Egan was a telephone operator from Helena, Montana, who arrived in France with the fifth unit. She returned home and immediately submitted a claim for the sixty-dollar bonus granted to members of the AEF, only to be denied and told she was a civilian, not part of the Army.

The next sixty years, Merle, and some of the other women, fought a battle for the Army to recognize their service as soldiers. More than fifty bills granting veteran status to the Hello Girls were introduced in Congress, but none passed. Finally, with help from different veterans’ groups and the National Organization for Women, along with a Seattle attorney who took an interest in Merle’s efforts, the Hello Girls received veteran status when Jimmy Carter signed the legislation on November 23, 1977.

It would take until 1979 before the official discharge papers were presented. By then, only eighteen of the women were still alive, but Merle was one of them. She died in 1986 as a veteran of the U.S. Army.

After researching these incredible women and reading their stories, I can’t begin to express how truly magnificent they were. They served with dignity, grace, determination, bravery, and professionalism, and they inspired the next generation of women who would serve in World War II.

 There was even a touching, beautiful poem written about them entitled “To the Telephone Girl” written by Frances A. Johnson. I hope you’ll take a moment to read it.

Right now, you can support a Congressional Gold Medal for the Hello Girls, America’s First Women Soldiers. You’ll find all the details at this website with links to each state. It doesn’t cost a penny to add your support, and only takes a few minutes.

 

Inspired by the Hello Girls, America’s first women soldiers who helped win World War I.

She longs to make a difference. He yearns to claim her heart.

After years of managing the Pendleton telephone office, Molly Thorsen answers the call for women to serve as telephone operators during World War I. Upon her arrival in France, she navigates the challenges of working near the front lines and battles the prejudices and skepticism of the men around her. Determined to prove her worth and skill, Molly faces adversity head-on while unexpectedly falling in love with a charming soldier.

Friday Fitzpatrick may not have been eager to engage in combat, but when he is drafted into the American Expeditionary Forces, he embraces the role of a soldier with unwavering determination. While fighting to survive the harrowing battlefield experiences, he clings to his sanity by dreaming about the captivating Hello Girl who has captured his heart. Though his opportunities to see her are limited, she serves as a beacon of hope in the midst of his darkest days.

Through their shared experiences and the trials they endure, Molly and Friday find comfort and encouragement in each other’s company, forging a connection that defies the chaos of a world in conflict. As the war draws to a close and they return home, will civilian life bring them together or pull them apart?

Find out in this sweet and wholesome historical romance filled with hope, faith, courage, and love.

To celebrate the release of the book, I’m giving away a fun prize pack that includes autographed copies of Sadie and Molly, swag, and this wonderful children’s book about Grace Banker and the Hello Girls.

To enter, pop over to THIS FORM.

I’m also going to give away a digital copy of Molly to one lucky winner today!

To enter, share the name of one woman in history you admire in the comments.

Donaldina Cameron – Chinese Women Crusader & Activist by Pam Crooks

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While writing my historical western romance, BROKEN BLOSSOMS, I relied heavily on my research with the U. S. Customs Service and their tireless fight against the never-ending smuggling of opium by the Chinese into our country. While immersed in my study, I learned that opium wasn’t the only vice smuggled in. Young, desperate Chinese women were, too, brought over to live the horrors of enslavement in San Francisco’s Chinatown brothels.

A brief mention of a woman who had dedicated her life to rescuing these women was a young missionary by the name of Donaldina Cameron. While grieving over a broken engagement, Donaldina quit her studies to be a teacher and found herself in a career of an entirely different sort, that of doing missionary work at the Mission House, a safe place for young Chinese women run by the Presbyterian Church.

Initially, she taught the girls sewing and helped run the House, but after the manager died, Donaldina took over. Supremely devoted to the protection and nurturing of the Asian women, she kept them on a strict schedule and taught them household skills, Christian prayers and beliefs, how to interact socially in society, and so on. A fierce guardian, she fought the courts against frivolous charges to keep them out of jail and free of prostitution and the physical abuse that came with it, even going so far as to physically rescue them from brothels herself.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the practice of allowing women to do missionary work was growing and deeply appreciated. Donaldina herself accepted the Chinese culture, allowing the women their accustomed foods and decorations, yet enforcing a balance of Anglo-American customs, too, such as wearing a white dress when marrying instead of the traditional red worn by the Chinese. A somewhat amazing accomplishment since wearing white was customary at Chinese funerals, not weddings!

Donaldina never married or had children of her own. Ironically, after living in San Francisco’s Chinatown for forty years, she never learned the Chinese language. She died in 1968 at the age of 98 years. Before her death, her beloved Mission House’s name was changed to the Donaldina Cameron House, and she is credited with saving more 3,000 Chinese women from horrific enslavement.

Here’s an excerpt in BROKEN BLOSSOMS taken from my research with the U. S. Customs Service and the realistic depiction of the arrival of the Chinese into the San Francisco harbor at the time.

A horde of Chinese men, mostly in their twenties, trod next down the gangway. All of them were dressed in clean blue cotton blouses and baggy trousers. Their foreheads were shaved, and their glossy black hair was braided with silk into long queues. Carleigh recognized them as coolies, or laborers, who would work in any one of a variety of low-paying industries. They carried long bamboo poles across their shoulders. Baskets attached at each end contained their meager possessions.

A dozen or so Chinese girls followed. Though they wore tunics and trousers like other Chinese women, theirs were obviously of poorer quality; their cheeks and lips were painted a gaudy red. On their heads, they wore checked cotton handkerchiefs, the chevron of prostitution.

Ignorant of morals and the contracts they signed in China, they would service their masters in a slavery more horrible than any human being should endure. After an indelicate search by the officers, their purchasers delivered them into the charge of sallow old hags, dressed in black and carrying rings of keys at their waists.

Carleigh’s heart ached for how these girls would live. Would they ever know the warm intimacy a man’s love could give them? Would their lives always be so hopeless?

99¢ for this blog only! (Returning to full price this weekend!)

AMAZON

 

If you could dedicate your life in service to one thing, what would it be?

 

The Women Who Ran the Range and a Giveaway!

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Howdy, y’all! Heather Blanton here. I’ve got a new box set out this week from my Burning Dress Ranch series. The Burning Dress is a ranch run by women for women. Some would think that’s a tall tale. A woman can’t run a ranch.

If you think that, you’ve never met Kittie Wilkins, Margaret Borland, or Ellen Watson, to name a few ranching pioneers.

From the late 1880s and into the 20th Century, Kittie Wilkins was quite literally the Horse Queen of Idaho. At one point she had a herd of over 10,000 fine animals. And fine was the name of her game. Kittie’s horses were spectacular.

 

Her father was a horse trader. She picked up the skill from him and ran with it. She had an uncanny eye for horse flesh, a strong work ethic, a quick mind, and–probably most importantly–the respect of her ranch hands. Kittie is credited with negotiating the largest horse trade in US history. In one deal, she sold 8000 horses to England for use in the Boer War. She was also a darling of the press because of her business acumen and feminine ways.

 

In 1873, Margaret Borland owned a good-sized spread in Texas, but cattle in Texas weren’t worth much. About $8 a head. Up the road in Kansas, though, beef was bringing $23 a head! Margaret, not being a dummy, defied convention and organized her own cattle drive. What’s more, she also served as the trail boss! But she arrived at this situation more out of necessity than desire.

Widowed three times, she had to step up repeatedly if she wanted to keep her ranch running and her children fed. Each tragic death solidified in her the fortitude to fight on, as well as offered the opportunity for her to learn the cattle business. Surviving these trials by fire, Margaret became the only female rancher to run a cattle drive up the Chisholm trail.

And then there’s Ellen Watson, a young woman who took advantage of the Wyoming Homestead Act and procured 160 acres for herself in 1887. With Jim Averell, most likely her secret husband, she filed for squatter’s rights on land adjacent to his and continued expanding her herd. Jim ran a restaurant and general store, but Ellen tended to the ranch with the help of a few reliable hands.

Ellen was becoming a successful rancher when she ran afoul of neighboring cattle baron Albert Bothwell. Bothwell coveted Ellen’s land and eventually, his greed led to her death. Ellen and Jim were lynched by Bothwell in July of 1889. To protect the wealthy cattlemen involved in the murders, the press dubbed Ellen “Cattle Kate” and declared her a cattle thief and prostitute.

They might have taken her ranch, her life, and her reputation, but they didn’t take away her accomplishments as a fine rancher.

Women like these inspired Burning Dress Ranch. Everything the women do in my stories, from wrangling cattle to shoeing horses to bending iron on an anvil is real, true history. Just like my historical heroes, my fictional heroines come away with a new vocation, a bright future, and their happily ever after!

So, what do you think? Are women every bit the rancher a man can be? Maybe with different expectations and parameters? Is the idea believable?

 

The Burning Dress Ranch Box Set of all five books is available now, but for your chance to win it, leave a comment and tell me what you think about these feisty, determined women.

I’m giving my box set away to 5 lucky commenters!

You can find the box set on Amazon

Laura Bullion ~ The Rose of the Wild Bunch

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Laura Bullion mug shot

The year of Laura Bullion’s birth in Knickerbocker, Texas is unknown. She gave several dates ranging from 1873 to 1887 during her lifetime, and researchers have been unable to pin down the exact date.

Knickerbocker, Texas was a haven for outlaws at the time, and her parents, Henry Bullion and Freda Byler, were known criminals. Laura was raised by her maternal grandparents, possibly is an attempt to keep her out of trouble, but that didn’t work out. She met many outlaws through her parents, including train robber Will Carver, who was married to her aunt, and her future lover Ben Kilpatrick, both of whom became members of the Wild Bunch.

Laura eventually ran away to San Antonio, where she found work in a saloon and used the name Della Rose. It was while working at this establishment, frequented by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, that she reestablished relationships with William Carver, who was now a widower, and the Ben Kilpatrick.

Ben Kilpatrick

When Kilpatrick joined the Wild Bunch in 1898, Laura went with him, becoming a working member of the gang. Laura helped in several train robberies, dressed as a man or boy. After the robberies, she helped fence the stolen items and help resupply the camp. No one suspected that the “young man” who’d taken part in the robbery was also the woman purchasing supplies and horses. Eventually the members of the Wild Bunch gave her a new moniker–the Thorny Rose of the Wild Bunch. She was truly one of the gang.

After a train robbery in Montana in 1901 (in which Laura was possibly disguised as a boy), she and Kilpatrick fled east. In November of that year, Pinkerton agents caught up to them. They arrested Kilpatrick, who refused to talk, so they went to his hotel room, where they found Laura heading out the door with a suitcase full of banknotes easily traceable to the train robbery. She and Kilpatrick were arrested and tried separately. Kilpatrick got 15 years in prison; Laura got 5. She was released after serving 3 1/2 years in 1905. Kilpatrick kept in contact with Laura by letter, and was released from prison in 1911. He was arrested shortly thereafter and extradited to Texas to face murder charges. The charges were dropped, but he was killed in a train robbery a year later.

The Wild Bunch. Front row, left to right: Harry Longabaugh, the Sundance Kid; Ben Kilpatrick, the Tall Texan; Robert Leroy Parker, Butch Cassidy. Back row: Will Carver and Harvey Logan, Kid Curry.

Laura disappeared after her release from prison, but resurfaced in Memphis, Tennessee in 1918. She worked as a seamstress and drapery maker. In the 1940s she became an interior designer. Laura Bullion died in 1961 of heart disease. She was the last surviving member of the Wild Bunch–and just think of how many people she sewed for who had no idea that she once robbed trains for a living!

 

Anne Bronte: A Writer Ahead of Her Time

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Early women writers had to fight for their place in the literary world and that’s how it was for Anne Brontë who published under a male pseudonym.

No one can dispute that Anne Brontë (1820-1849) was a writer ahead of her time, even though she wasn’t as well-known as her sisters – Charlotte and Emily. She was born the last of seven children of Patrick and Maria Brontë. Her mother, Maria, died of tuberculosis when Anne was only one year old. Their first two children also died at age eleven with the same disease. Patrick encouraged his children’s imaginations and urged them to stretch their minds so it was no surprise that they all became poets, writers, and Branwell, his only son, a painter. Creativity ran high in all the children due to the early exposure to a multitude of literature pieces.

Charlotte, Emily, and Anne all attended Miss Wooler’s school in Roe Head, England then worked as governesses once they graduated. But all of them wrote poetry as a regular escape from work.

Anne Bronte sketched by her sister Charlotte in pencil. Permission granted by Wikipedia.

After much struggle of finding a publisher, Anne released her first book, Agnes Grey in 1847, the same year Charlotte’s Jane Eyre and Emily’s Wuthering Heights made an appearance. But they were all published under male pseudonyms until 1850 after the deaths of Anne and Emily. Finally, Charlotte revealed their true identities.

Anne’s second book The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was published a year before her death and the subject matter of it as well as her first book made people uncomfortable. She shined a light on martial abuse, alcoholism, opium addiction, infidelity, class inequality, and the right of a woman to choose her own life. No one spoke of these things, they simply endured them. Her sisters Charlotte and Emily glossed over these subjects and tended to romanticize such issues of the day.

Anne died at twenty-nine years of age with two published books to her name and a body of poetry. Charlotte lived to age thirty-nine, the longest of all seven children. They all died of tuberculosis and it’s sad that their father outlived them all.

Of the sisters, Anne wanted to write the truth no matter how painful or that no one wanted to hear it. She felt she owed it to herself to expose the problems of the times and be truthful. That simply wasn’t done in her day. Literary scholars proclaimed her far ahead of her time and celebrate her books.

Here is what she wrote just days before her death: I have no horror of death: if I thought it inevitable I think I could quietly resign myself to the prospect … But I wish it would please God to spare me not only for Papa’s and Charlotte’s sakes, but because I long to do some good in the world before I leave it. I have many schemes in my head for future practise—humble and limited indeed—but still I should not like them all to come to nothing, and myself to have lived to so little purpose. But God’s will be done.

If you had lived back then, do you think you’d have read her books? I think I would’ve been curious. I loved Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights by her sisters.