Give-away

Homesteads. Grandmothers, and a Give Away

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My latest book, Cowboy Meets Cowgirl  features a homestead house on the family ranch, which the heroine wants to renovate. The house in the story has four-rooms—a kitchen, living room, bedroom and a bathroom that was added on in the 1940s. Most homestead houses, however, were not that grand.

This is a photo of my great grandmother, Lillie Belle Howland, in front of her homestead house with two of her children. She had thirteen children total, ten of whom lived, and I’m sure that several of them were born in this house. She told my mother stories about giving birth alone, which boggles my modern mind, but I’m certain that she had many homestead “sisters” who were equally amazing.

The Homestead Act of 1862 created a means by which hardworking people, men or women, could claim 160 acres of land. The settler had to be over 21 years of age, settle on the land, improve the land (farm) and then file for the deed after five years of residency. That was where the rub came in. Residency. In order for that to happen, at least one of the settlers had to be physically present on the land. In my great-grandmother’s case, she stayed while my great-grandfather worked in mines far away from the homestead to provide the money needed to keep the farm running. I do not know who did the actual farming, but I imagine that my great grandfather came back to the homestead to handle the farming chores, then headed back to wherever he was working. Meanwhile, Lillie Belle raised children and did the hard work involved in building a household in the middle of nowhere.

I’m happy to say that Grandma Lillie lived to be 103 years old and had several great-great-grandchildren, including my daughter. She was a devout Christian Scientist, sweet, unassuming and humble. Upon meeting her, one would never dream that she’d held down the homestead singlehandedly in the middle of a prairie.

When I wrote about my “fancy” homestead house with three rooms, I thought a lot about Grandma Lillie. She will always be one of my greatest inspirations.

My question, for a $10 Amazon gift certificate, is who in your family has inspired you?

Welcome Kimberley Woodhouse!

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Hey, y’all! I’m super excited to be with you today. Not only is this one of my favorite blogs, but two of my favorite people are here – Karen Witemeyer and Mary Connealy. (Waving at you two!)

Today, I’d love to share an excerpt from A Mark of Grace, book three in my Secrets of the Canyon series from Bethany House Publishers. My readers have been begging for Ruth’s story and it’s finally here.

A little background: Ruth Anniston has been a Harvey Girl for a long time. Since the El Tovar opened on the rim of the Grand Canyon in 1905, she’s been the head waitress there. But a tragic and horrifying accident with a mountain lion (which took place near the end of A Gem of Truth – book two), has left her injured. But not just physically. Every aspect of her world—professional, physical, emotional, spiritual—has been upended and she’s struggling. Big time.

The series has been so much fun to write. The Grand Canyon, the historic El Tovar, the Harvey Girls, and the still-untamed-remote-West. I hope you enjoy this little snippet from the Prologue of A Mark of Grace. (And don’t forget to check out the giveaway details below.)

 

1907

Thirteen years later

El Tovar Hotel, Grand Canyon

“You’re such a pretty young lady, Ruth. Don’t sell yourself

short.”

Pretty young lady. As the memories of the past washed over her, Ruth couldn’t believe how many years had rolled by since that day.

But now look at her. No longer did she have a pretty face. No longer was she young and eligible. Had she let her stubborn pride get in the way? Was she destined to be alone forever?

At this moment, the mirror across the room was the worst villain she could ever imagine.

The more Ruth thought about it, the more she wanted to throw something at it and make it shatter into pieces. But she wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that.

Because she was a Harvey Girl.

The head waitress.

In control at all times.

An example to all the girls under her. Mother hen. Mentor. Friend.

She couldn’t allow herself to lose all command of her faculties just because her world would never be the same again. This had been her dream.

Even though she now faced the nightmare before her.

Ruth gingerly patted the bandage on her cheek. Lord, give me strength to handle whatever comes. She’d repeated the prayer too many times to count as she waited for the doctor to arrive.

She wasn’t a vain woman. At least she hadn’t been before a mountain lion mauled her face. Had she? Now she spent an agonizing amount of time consumed with her appearance and how it affected her future.

She was thirty-two—almost thirty-three. A veritable spinster. If she couldn’t work, what was she to do? Where could

she go? Working as a Harvey Girl had been her entire adult

life. It had brought her so much satisfaction. Hopefully, she’d brought God glory through it all. And even when she was younger and struggled when all the other girls were getting married and settling down, the Lord had given her peace.

Now she was the head waitress at the crown jewel of the Harvey Empire—an accomplishment she’d worked hard to obtain. It was all she’d ever wanted after donning her first black-and-white uniform. And after a year on the job, it had been easy to think she still had plenty of time for God to bring the right man into her life. She’d been completely content.

Being a Harvey Girl was the perfect job for her. More to the point, it was the only job she knew. What if she couldn’t do it anymore? Harvey Girls made people feel comfortable. They were trained to be efficient. Pleasant. And spotless.

Without blemish, as the Bible verse went. Her soul might be spotless before the Lord, but people were far less forgiving than He. And she was no longer without blemish . . .

Mr. Owens had bent the stringent Harvey rules for Emma Grace in her time of need. Surely he would do the same for her. Only, Emma Grace could still do her job. Ruth couldn’t.

Not to the Harvey standard. Her leg would take a long time to heal. And she’d probably always walk with a limp. But that wouldn’t be as visible as her face. She closed her eyes.

What would she look like?

Reaching up with her right hand, she covered the bandaged area of her face. And for a moment, she looked normal again.

Lord, give me strength to handle whatever comes.

Against the doctor’s orders, Ruth began to peel back the edge of the bandage. She stepped close to the mirror, hoping the damage was far less than she feared…

I’m going to give away three paperback copies of A Mark of Grace to three wonderful readers. All you have to do is comment with answers to these questions: Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? If so, what was your favorite spot? If not, is it on your bucket list?

Until next time, keep on reading!

Kimberley

Home with the Rodeo Dad and a Give Away!

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I am  happy to announce the first book of my sweet romance trilogy The Cowgirls of Larkspur Valley has been released. Some books are fun to write and this was one of them. Home With the Rodeo Dad includes a lot of my favorite tropes–a protective single dad who happens to be a rodeo rider; a tight community; a family of rambunctious siblings (the heroine’s family); horses; and a baby.

Here’s a the opening scene:

“Easy, Button. We’re almost there.”

Troy Mackay glanced in the rearview mirror of his Ford F-250 as his six-month-old daughter’s warning cry became a full-fledged howl. His shoulders tightened in response, but he didn’t panic like he would have only a few months ago.

Livia hit a particularly high note just as the headlights shone over a mailbox with a crooked flag, at which point he was supposed to turn left, according to the directions his new landlord had given him.

“Just another mile, kiddo.”

Livia hiccupped, sucked in a breath and then howled again. Troy winced as he fought with himself to keep from stopping the truck right there.

An eternity later, which showed as four minutes on the dashboard clock, he rolled to a stop in front of a dark house and turned off the ignition. Livia went quiet, as if sensing that a big change was taking place.

It was.

Troy Mackay, former career rodeo rider was now Troy Mackay, single dad and full-time farrier. Or he would be full time as soon as he hung out his shingle and got Livia enrolled in the local daycare center.

Troy opened the rear door of the truck and unlatched the baby carrier. He was debating about whether to leave Livia strapped in or take her out and hold her when the porch light came on behind him.

He whirled toward the light, wondering if a place this old had motion sensors, then he saw movement in the reflected light on the windows. There was someone in the house. Quickly, he relatched the baby carrier, closed the door and stood protectively in front of the truck. This house was supposed to be empty, so what was he facing?

A squatter taking refuge, maybe?

Livia let out a howl that shattered the stillness of the night.

Get in the truck and drive. Come back in the morning.

The need to protect his daughter was paramount, and Troy was about to do just that, even though he had no place to go. Then the front door opened, and a young woman stepped out, hugging her long sweater around her body.

“Hi,” he called in the friendliest voice he could manage. “Maybe I’m at the wrong place. I’m looking for Littlegate Farm.”

“Why?” The woman pulled her sweater more tightly around her, and her chin lifted as she spoke.

Troy shifted his weight, perplexed by the woman’s tone. “Because I rented it.”

Her back stiffened. “I don’t think so.”

He frowned. “I have a contract.”

“No.”

“You want to see it?” he asked.

“No need. It’s not valid.”

Troy cocked his head stubbornly. “How so?”

“I own Littlegate Farm, and I promise you that I haven’t rented it to anyone.”

Me again. I hope you enjoyed the excerpt.  I’ll be giving away three digital copies of this sweet romance. If you’d like to enter, simply leave a comment telling me your favorite kind of romance trope, such as working together to overcome the odds, enemies to lovers, single dad, grumpy hero-feisty heroine, mistaken identity, etc. I’m looking forward to hearing what you like.

Best,

Jeannie

Welcome Jodi Thomas!

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Hang on everyone, it’s almost fall.

That’s when the year begins if you’re a student or a teacher.  For me it’s been 12 years of public school, 6 years of college, 19 years of teaching and 14 years of being Writer-in-Residence at West Texas at A&M.

I’ve eaten more cafeteria meals than I’ve cooked!

So, my year starts in the fall. That’s when I set my goals, even my writing goals. Some years when I wrote my goals, I could have just written “Ditto.”

But some years there are surprises. Maybe a seed I planted years ago begins to grow. Or sometimes a goal falls apart leaving room for new surprises in my life.

I always laugh and say, ” Sometimes God winks.”

I have found 2022 has been one of those years.

In April my SUNDAY AT THE SUNFLOWER INN came out fast and with great reviews. Then out of nowhere I was named to the Texas Literary Hall of Fame.

ME!  What an honor. I was so excited I wanted to go back to all my teachers and show them the letter announcing my award.

What a total surprise–God winked!

Another surprise this year is the book coming out the end of August.  THE WISHING QUILT.  Three years ago I was talking to Patience Griffin at the Houston International Quilt Show and I was reading Lori Wilde’s new book.

I thought it might be fun to do a book together, Lori, Patience and me.  And, three years later it happened.

As you know I love quilts, especially this one from my mother Sally Faye Kirkland Price. I have it hanging in my quilt room at home.

I would love to give away a copy of THE WISHING QUILT to three readers. Leave a comment for a chance to win. Do you quilt or have a family member who does? What are your favorite quilt patterns? Or if you don’t quilt, share one of your own “God winks” moments in the comments.

It’s almost September so I better get to work on my goals.

Happy New Year,

Jodi

Sharing Western Wisdom and a Give Away!

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Hey everyone! Glad to see you here!

I do love a colorful saying, especially one that makes me think, and today I wanted to share a few of my favorite bits of western wisdom:

*Letting the cat out of the bag is a whole lot easier that putting it back inside.

*When you get to where you’re going, the first thing to do is to take care of the horse you rode in on.

*If you think you’re a person of influence, try ordering someone else’s dog around.

*Wear a hat with a brim wide enough to shed sun and rain, fan a campfire, dip water, and whip a fighting cow in the face.

*Going to bed mad is no fun, but it’s better than fighting all night.

*Two can live as cheaply as one, if one doesn’t eat.

*The shallower the stream, the louder the babble.

*Life is simpler when you plow around the stumps.

*An ounce of doing is worth a pound of talk.

*Don’t lick a frozen pump handle.

And now it’s your turn. To qualify for the drawing for a $15 Amazon gift card, pass along one of  your favorite sayings. If you don’t have a saying to share, then comment on which of sayings I’ve shared speaks to you. I’m looking forward to reading your comments.

Winner will be announced on Saturday.

Guest Author Caryl McAdoo and a Give Away

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Hello, Petticoats & Pistols readers! I’m Caryl McAdoo, hybrid (traditional and independently published) author of several Christian genres, and I am so glad to be here with you today!

I grew up in Dallas, Texas and only remember going to Fort Worth one time as a child when my parents took me to their zoo.

I always thought of it as a wild town and not nearly as cultured and refined as Big D! “Where the West begins!” they say of Cowtown, and I believed them!

It wasn’t until my early forties that I visited the city again on an invitation from a writer friend and his wife for dinner and an evening at the Stockyards. I had a wonderful time and was quite amazed with the Fort Worth I never knew! I’ve been back many times since.

The photo is me and a friend on her birthday outing with Bass Hall, our destination, in the background.

So, when I started writing book three in my historical Cross Timbers Mystery series, COERCION at The Cow Palace, I decided to set the story in a notorious half acre in 1870’s Fort Worth history! I loved the research!

The famous Chisholm Trail went right through ”Cowtown”! Its dust and beef weary cowboys would gallop into town shooting their pistols and even riding their horses right into the saloons! A red-light, gambling district sprang up that indulged the cowpokes’ vices.

The area became quite famous for its lawlessness, giving Hell’s Half Acre its memorable name and less-than-angelic reputation. That’s right where I set The Cow Palace, COERCION’s setting for the murder that needed to be solved.

In researching, I also discovered two things that kept the town from flourishing as Dallas had. The first was a faraway bank failure!

In 1872, the Texas & Pacific Railroad had laid track through Dallas—bringing prosperity and growth—and about six miles west of the city to Eagle’s Ford. The company stopped only twenty-four miles from Fort Worth before disaster struck.

Bankers to the U.S. government, Jay Cooke & Company, failed up in New York causing an international panic. Cooke was also major financial backers for the railroads. The bank’s collapse devasted Fort Worth’s future! Almost overnight, the population dwindled from four thousand to less than a thousand.

One former resident reported to a Dallas paper that Fort Worth was so deserted, he witnessed a black panther sleeping in the street. This gave Fort Worth a new nickname, Panther City or Pantherville.

The other factor was a terrible winter in the same year.

So, the city “Where the West Begins” got set back and became known as a wilder, less cultural place than its nearby sister-city Dallas

Excerpt from COERCION:
The youngest woman definitely knew Fort Worth better than either Charity or Vivian, from Dallas County. She filled in a lot of Cow Town’s history she’d learned along the way. Arriving at the new dress shop, the boardwalks were practically empty.

Where were all its customers?

“Well, my goodness, it’s like a ghost town or something.” Vivian stepped out of the carriage first. Virgil offered his hand to help her down. “Where are all the people?”

“There used to be a lot more, but so many left last winter.”

“I know it was a bad one, but why would so many leave?” Charity was last out of the carriage. “Thank you, Virgil. I’m certain you do not want to come into the shop with us, so you may either wait at the door or sit with Gilbert.”

“Yes, Miss Charity.” He hurried ahead and held the shop door for the ladies.

“The weather was only a part of it. You know they just had an orgy of building once everyone heard the railroad was coming.”

Charity glanced at Vivian. The young woman had an odd way of saying things.

“Then in August—or was it September?—anyway, some bank up in the Northeast went under. Supposedly, they’d invested in railroads pretty heavily. In no time, a lot more banks and railroads failed.”

“What a shame.”

“You know the tracks stopped in Eagle Ford and never made it here. Businesses all over town were closing right and left.”

“That’s too bad. Now that you mention it, a lot of new folks came to Delaware Creek last fall.” Vivian turned to face Charity. “The Banks and the Gregorys are from Fort Worth. Oh, and the Winslows, too. They had a gun repair shop here that closed.”

“I’ve met them and the Banks, but don’t think I know the Gregorys yet. You’ll have to introduce me. Do they come to the barn dances?”

“I think they have.”

“Well, that’s a shame some bank up in the North would have such a terrible impact on the city. Morgan has mentioned how the train not coming on into Fort Worth hurt its growth.”

“Oh, it was truly devasting. So many lost their homes, too.”

“How is it you’re aware of all that, Yolanda?”

“Oh, you know, Miss Viv. I hear things from some of the city’s big men of finance who frequent the Palace.”

COERCION at The Cow Palace debuted January 12th, so is now available at Amazon and subscribers to Kindle Unlimited may read it for free—all of my titles (except a few published by New York houses) are in that great readers’ program! I hope you’ll enjoy it and the Texas history I’ve included in the story!

I pray all the great authors and readers at Petticoats & Pistols have a BLESSED and wonderful New Year! May God shower you all in His high favor!

GIVEWAWAY: I would love to offer an eBook of DUPLICITY at The Lowell House, book one in the Cross Timbers Mystery series! Just answer this question to be entered! Have you ever visited Fort Worth, Texas or had an inkling to?

 

BIO: Award-winning, Christian author Caryl McAdoo prays her story brings God glory. Of her best-selling novels, readers love her historical Christian romance family sagas most, but she also writes Christian contemporary romance, mysteries, Biblical fiction, and also for young adults and mid-grade booklovers. The large majority of reviewers award her stories five-stars and praise Caryl’s characters, counting them family or very close friends. The prolific writer loves singing the new songs God gives her almost as much as penning tales—hear a few at YouTube! Married to Ron over fifty years, she shares four children and twenty-one grandsugars. The McAdoos live in the woods south of Clarksville, seat of Red River County in far Northeast Texas, waiting expectantly for God to open the next door.

LINKS:
Amazon – https://www.bookbub.com/authors/caryl-mcadoo?follow=true

Website: http://www.CarylMcAdoo.com

Newsletter: http://carylmcadoo.com/sign-up-to-the-caryler/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_1hQx6UZbWi3OYwmKKxh6Q

(Hear Caryl sing her New Songs!)

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CarylMcAdoo.author

Readers’ Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Carylers

 

Jeannie Watt has a Winner!

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I so enjoyed reading your responses to my question about what you want for Christmas. Thanks, everyone for stopping by and sharing.

And now, the winner is…

RITA WRAY

Congratulations, Rita! Please contact me at jeanniewrites @ gmail .com (no spaces) and I’ll arrange for your Amazon gift card.

Thanks again, everyone!

The Cowboy’s Christmas and a Give Away!

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I’m happy to announce that I have a new release coming out on November 4. The Cowboy’s Christmas is now available for pre-order, so let me tell you a little about the story.

My heroine, Savannah Dunn, lost her husband close to Christmas two years ago and no longer celebrates the holidays. That changes when she becomes temporary guardian for her four-year-old twin nieces while her sister is deployed overseas. With kids in the house, she has to celebrate Christmas, but she’s going to do the bare minimum. After all, the girls are only four.  They should be happy with an artificial tree and presents. Right?

The hero, Quinn Harding, has different ideas about Christmas. He might have grown up moving from ranch to ranch with his vagabond mom, but they always had a big Christmas. Now that he’s working on the Dunn Ranch, he makes it a mission to help Savannah learn to enjoy Christmas again.

Here’s an excerpt, which takes place after Quinn convinces Savannah to help him find a real Christmas tree:

“Fir or pine?” he asked.

“You’re in charge of the tree project,” she said.

“Fir.” He started through the snow to one of the trees he’d pointed out from horseback when they’d moved the cows, punching tracks in the snow that Savannah attempted to follow, even though his stride was longer than hers. It was an awkward business that left her winded, but she enjoyed the challenge. It’d been a long time since she’d simply had fun doing simple stuff—like following tracks spaced too far apart.

“This one looks good,” Savannah said when she finally reached the tree Quinn was studying with a critical eye.

“Maybe, if you put that side to the wall.” He pointed to a sparse area at the back.

“Isn’t that the charm of the home-grown tree? Imperfections?”

“Right.” He pulled the roll of flagging tape out of his pocket and tied a long pink strip to the tree. “We can take it off later if we find better ones.”

“How long is this operation going to take?”

“Hours.”

He spoke so seriously that she believed him. “That long?”

“This is serious stuff.”

His expression was serious—except for the light of amusement in his gray-green eyes. She shook her head, refusing to let herself smile back, then turned to scout for another tree. A better tree.

She headed uphill, making her own tracks, which was only marginally more difficult than following Quinn’s, stopping in front of a stand of three intergrown firs.

Nope.

She hiked on. Behind her she could hear Quinn moving in a different direction, his boots punching through the snow. She didn’t look back because the perfect tree lay ahead, maybe twenty yards—uphill, of course. She battled her way up the slope, only to find that the perfect tree was missing a section of branches on the back side. She didn’t have enough walls to hide that much empty space.

Quinn gave a whistle and she turned to find him beckoning her down to where he stood near a twisted pine. Not the tree of her dreams, but…okay. Quinn was running the show.

She half walked, half stumbled through the snow toward him. She was winded and her hands were cold, but there was a certain exhilaration to being outside, doing something other than chores or gardening or even sitting under a tree reading a book. It was the snow, she decided. The snow made her feel like Harold after a fresh fall—full of energy and ready to tackle anything.

She’d bottled herself up for two years, literally and figuratively. Secluded herself from the world, except for Deke and the occasional trip to either Livingston or Marietta. It wasn’t that she’d wanted to focus on her grief. She hadn’t. She’d wanted to be normal again but had no idea what that looked like. She only knew that it would probably sting to ease back into life, and coward that she was, she’d insulated herself against the sting.

She’d forgotten to live.

No…she’d been afraid to live. Afraid to embrace anything that might make her feel too much.

That’s why she needed to do more than sleepwalk through Christmas.

And life.

She focused on Quinn, slipped on a loose branch hidden by the snow and slid down onto her butt. He was looking at the tree again, hadn’t seen.

Good.

Her pants were starting to soak through on the backs of her thighs, which was only going to make her colder, but she really didn’t care. In fact, she felt like sharing the joy.

She stopped a few yards away from Quinn, scooped up a handful of snow, formed a ball, and lobed it at his back, but it splatted right at the back of his neck, knocking his hat forward. Savannah brought a hand to her mouth as his shoulders automatically hunched against the snow that was probably going down his shirt.

“What the—” He swung around, and Savannah couldn’t help laughing at the confused expression on his face. “You?”

“Yeti. I swear. He came out of nowhere.”

“Uh huh.” He studied her for a moment, then bent down, keeping his eyes on her, as if expecting a sneak attack if he looked away, and scooped up enough snow to make a good-size projectile.

Savannah put her hands up. “Yeti. Honest.”

He started toward her with the snowball, and she laughed as she awkwardly backpedaled. She stopped when her heel hit a snowy log. “Quinn. Please.”

He stopped a few feet away from her, tossing the ball in the air. “Please?”

“Please go find that yeti and punish him. He couldn’t have gone far.”

He fought the smile, lost, and Savannah’s midsection did a freefall as the impact of his smile hit her full force.

“Maybe we should stick close together so that one of us can be on the lookout for yetis,” he said softly.

“Yes. Good idea.” She gave a brisk bob of her head.

He dropped the snowball and held out a hand. Savannah barely hesitated before putting her wet glove into his. His fingers closed around hers and together they walked to the twisted pine tree.

To celebrate the release of The Cowboy’s Christmas on November 4, I’m giving away a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly chosen commenter.  To be eligible, all you have to do is tell me what you want for Christmas. I’m looking forward to reading your responses.