Cowboy Thanksgivings: More Beans, Less Bird

In the Wild West, there were no football games, no refrigerators, and certainly no fancy gravy boats. Instead, Thanksgiving for a cowboy often meant Dutch ovens in the dirt, beans by the fire, and gratitude that you and your horse made it through another year.

Gratitude, Cowboy-Style

Cowboys weren’t known for long speeches, but they understood gratitude. Things they might be thankful for:

A horse that stayed sure-footed.

Their saddle and bedroll.

Dry socks and boots that hadn’t worn through.

A cook who didn’t burn the biscuits.

Another sunrise on the trail.

Did Cowboys Even Celebrate 

Thanksgiving during 

the Wild West Era?

Thanksgiving didn’t become an official national holiday until 1863, when President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a day of thanks in the middle of the Civil War.

For most cowboys, it was just another day of dust, sore muscles, hard tack and beans. But on a ranch or in town, they might have a hearty dinner.

Frontier Feasts

Turkeys weren’t always around depending on the region. Venison, rabbit, or prairie chicken were easily hunted. On cattle ranches, beef sometimes stole the show.

Beans, sourdough cornbread, and potatoes were common.

Frontier families relied on root veggies like turnips and carrots, or dried beans and peas from the summer’s harvest.

If flour and sugar were on hand, Dutch oven pies made with dried apples or pumpkins were a treat. One cowboy trick was soaking dried fruit in whiskey before baking—both dessert and drink in one slice.

And don’t forget the cowboy coffee. Strong enough to “float a horseshoe.”

Kicking up their heels

Barns, churches, and saloons doubled as dining halls. After eating, musicians might grab their fiddles or harmonicas, people square danced, and many a man told tall tales.

What are you thankful for? 

Feel free to add your comments.

I am thankful I don’t live in the Wild West days. Cooking over a campfire every night? Hard pass. Grocery shopping is plenty of cardio.

I am thankful for my friends, family, and readers.

I am thankful for my health and a cozy place to hang my hat.

I wish everyone a blessed day.

Hugs,

Niki J. Mitchell

 

Pioneer Meals ~ Julie Lence

 

Courtesy Modern Pioneer Mom

 ‘What’s for dinner?’ It’s the phrase everyone across the globe utters daily. Italians are mostly likely serving pasta. The night’s menu in Mexico might include tamales, while over in the Caribbean, folks could be frying fish. In the U.S., dinner ranges anywhere from fast food to chicken & dumplings, to steak & potatoes. At the end of this month, most Americans will sit down to a feast of turkey, ham, potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. With today’s modern stoves,  microwave ovens, gas grills, and deep fryers, preparing a large meal isn’t too difficult or time consuming. Back in the day, it was both. Pioneer women and chuck wagon cooks stood over the fire from sun-up to sun-down cooking the day’s meals. They kneaded dough and churned butter without the help of today’s appliances, and woke early the next morning to start all over again.

Ever wonder what those women and chuck wagon cooks were serving up?

With flour, sugar, corn meal, potatoes, beans, and fruits and vegetables such as pears, squash, corn, and pumpkin filling home larders, pioneer women served a breakfast of coffee, bread & butter, cold meat from the day before, and corn cakes. Lunch was the main meal and included dried pumpkin, beans & butter, turnips, fruit, and some sort of meat (deer, rabbit, turkey, pork, beef, buffalo, and chicken). Supper was a lighter fare of porridge or bread and milk. Molasses or sweetened water was used if milk wasn’t available.   

courtesy YouTube

Chuck wagon cooks dished up meals of beans, fresh beef, dried fruit, biscuits, bacon, potatoes, eggs, and salt pork to cowboys. Saloons served pork & beans with bacon, pickled eggs, and pretzels. And in those lunch pails children carried to school were cornbread and syrup sandwiches, bread with lard, or bread and bacon. To keep meat from spoiling, pioneers often had a smokehouse on their property where early November they would erect a low-burning fire and hang meats to cure. (This process took several weeks and once complete, the meat kept well into the following summer.) Vegetables were canned and fruits were dried.

Cooking and storing food to last throughout the year wasn’t easy. As much as I adore the wild west, I prefer cooking on my electric stove and gas grill and having a refrigerator to keep fruits and vegetables from spoiling.   

Favoring the Farmer

 

Sometimes, when I'm writing a book, I just get so connected to the characters I wish I could pack up live in their town.

That happened (again!) when I was writing my recent release, Favoring the Farmer, that takes place in the fictional town of Summer Creek.

It's a tiny town, but growing. A goat named Ethel meanders the streets. The gas station is the local hot spot for gossip and snacks. And there's only one place to eat out for dinner, but they do have great wood-fired pizza and their signature dessert is brookies, so it can't be all bad. 

Summer Creek is one of those towns where everyone feels welcome, like they'd just found their way home. 

Which is why I enjoy writing books in that series so much. 

He’s a weary farmer. 

She’s a city designer with a rebellious teen in tow. 

Summer Creek might just be the fresh start they need.

Farmer Dane Becker feels like life has left him behind. With his father gone and the woman he loved like a grandmother now laid to rest, Dane is exhausted, lonely, and convinced his best days are buried in the middle of his wheat field. Then one evening, he spots lights in the house next door. His investigation ends with a mop-wielding beauty mistaking him for a burglar—while unexpectedly stealing his heart.

Bellamy Larken is used to designing one-of-a-kind apparel for Hollywood’s elite, not wielding cleaning supplies against handsome strangers. But when her younger sister Elise’s rebellion spirals out of control, Bellamy—as her guardian—knows something has to change. Inheriting her late aunt’s home in Summer Creek, Oregon, feels like the perfect fresh start. Hastily packing without warning her sister, she drags Elise from the city to small-town life, hoping the quiet community will give them both a chance to heal.

But the house is stuck in a disco-era time warp, Bellamy feels overwhelmed, and the rugged farmer next door is equal parts frustrating and irresistible. Dane insists he doesn’t need anyone, yet Bellamy’s determined heart might be exactly what he can’t live without.

Filled with small-town charm, laugh-out-loud moments, and a tender romance that blossoms under beautiful Oregon skies, Favoring the Farmer is a sweet and hopeful love story about finding where you truly belong.

USA Today bestselling author Shanna Hatfield grew up on a farm where her childhood brimmed with sunshine, hay fever, and an ongoing supply of learning experiences.

Today, Shanna draws on her rural roots to create sweet and wholesome romances brimming with hope, humor, quirky characters, realistic heroes, and women of strength.

When this award-winning author isn’t writing or baking, Shanna cherishes time at home in the Pacific Northwest with her beloved husband, affectionately known as Captain Cavedweller.

 

Origin of the Typewriter

By Kristy McCaffrey

Henry Mill, an English inventor, patented the first typewriter in 1714, although he described it as a “Machine for Transcribing Letters.” At the start of the 19^th century, an Italian inventor named Pellegrino Turri also created a mechanical typing machine, along with carbon paper to provide the ink. These early machines were largely developed to enable the blind to write.

The first commercially successful typewriter didn’t come along until 1874, when E. Remington and Sons began producing models with the popular QWERTY keyboard layout, based on a prototype created by American inventors Christopher Latham Sholes, Carlos Glidden, and Samuel W. Soule.

The success of this last invention was twofold. First, the text could be seen as it was typed. Earlier writing machines had the paper hidden inside, making it difficult to follow the output. The second important feature was the keys could be used at speed without jamming. The QWERTY keyboard design was to avoid keys clashing together when typing combinations of letters frequently found together in common English words.

* * * * *

Don't miss THE NIGHTHAWK!

Arizona Territory
September 1899

Sophie Ryan’s dream of working for a newspaper has come true. Accompanied by her cousin, Lucas Blackmore, a newly appointed U.S. Deputy Marshal, she arrives in Jerome, one of the richest mining towns in America. And one of the most remote. Although she’s been hired to report for the Jerome Mining News on education and cultural issues, she soon finds herself immersed in something more serious when she finds an enigmatic injured man in the Black Hills claiming to be an ornithologist.

U.S. Deputy Marshal Benton McKay is undercover tracking the notorious train robbing Weaver gang, and the trail ends in Jerome. When he’s injured in the Black Hills and found by a determined and beautiful young woman, he must gain her trust to keep his identity a secret. But keeping her out of trouble proves a challenge, especially with her cousin assigned to assist him. As they track down the band of outlaws, another agenda emerges—the renegades are searching for lost gold believed to have been left behind by the Spanish Conquistadors. And Sophie Ryan is determined to report on it.

The Nighthawk is a fast-paced romantic adventure filled with humor, treasure hunting, a tenacious heroine, and a hero harboring a secret. It has light steam, a happily-for-now ending, and can be read as a standalone.

Sophie is the daughter of Logan and Claire from THE DOVE.

Available in digital and paperback. Find more info here.

Read an excerpt

Sophie pulled free. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I could ask you the same, but I don’t have time.”

McKay went to the barn door as Bromley’s light disappeared around the house. He stepped into the storm, searching the ground for Xander’s path. It became futile quickly, the ground a muddy slop. And he couldn’t keep lurking around the Bromley house. The man might see him.

When he stopped abruptly, Sophie slammed into his backside. He grabbed her shoulders before she fell, her duster slick with rain. “We need to go,” he said.

Grabbing her hand, he dragged her behind him, not stopping until they got to her horse.

“Were you following me?” she demanded.

He ignored her, grabbing her waist and hoisting her onto Roger. He took the horse’s reins from her.

“I can ride on my own,” Sophie said loudly above the din of rain.

McKay walked Roger to his own horse. Once mounted, he continued to hold Roger’s reins, not wanting to lose Sophie in the storm. It was slow going, but he finally got them to the livery where they left the animals for the night. Then McKay took her hand again and led her to his hotel.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was exasperated.

“We need privacy,” he said, taking a back way, entering the Connor Hotel through a rear entrance.

When the way was clear of employees, they went through the kitchen and took the stairs. He unlocked his door but when he stepped inside, Sophie refused.

“I’m not going into your room,” she whispered. She was dripping water all over the carpeted floor.

“Now’s not the time to play hard to get, Sophie.”

He pulled her inside and shut the door.

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