The Wild West and Motherhood by Sable Hunter

 

One doesn’t usually think about motherhood and the wild west being two topics with much in common – but they are. Without a doubt, every cowboy who ever rode a horse had a mother. Women braved the frontier just like men did. They emigrated, developing blisters on their feet from trudging alongside wagons bound for Texas, Colorado, or parts farther west. At the side of their menfolk, they homesteaded, working tirelessly as they took care of their families and farmed the land of Oklahoma, Kansas, and South Dakota. Many of these pioneer women ran businesses – with or without their husbands. Mercantile stores, cattle ranches, mills, and stagecoach inns were just some of the establishments women headed up in this rough and tumble world of men.
                                                    

Women of the frontier were called upon to take care of each day as it came. Many kept up with these jobs outside the home as well as taking care of their everyday chores – such as housework, cooking, not to mention enduring all of this while pregnant, tending the sick, or taking care of children. Can you imagine the strain and unrelenting toll of this life on the body and soul of these women?
Sometimes I think I have a hard time, but not really.

Thanks to these frontier women, the wilderness inched toward being tamed. They turned makeshift houses into homesteads, and lawless boom towns into thriving communities. We’ll never know the names of the majority of these women, their identities have been lost to history. We can merely see the results of their labors in the country they birthed.

To honor yesterday being Mother’s Day, I’d like to point out a handful of women who left their mark on the Old West. First being an Indian guide by the name of Sacagawea who escorted Lewis and Clark on their famed journey, traveling thousands of miles across treacherous stretches of wilderness, hostile territories, even fording fast rushing rivers. She did all of this while carrying a newborn babe – to boot. Her knowledge of plants and herbs not only kept the party nourished, but the notes and drawings she made along the way were a huge contribution to the natural history and knowledge we take for granted.

Even though she’d been sold at the age of 12 into what we might call slavery, her owner married her and treated her with great respect. She became a peacemaker between the explorers and the natives as they passed through uncharted territory. To me, she is a true symbol of grace and beauty in the face of tribulation. Sacagawea was honored in the year 2000 with her image depicted on a coin. She was holding her baby boy, Jean Baptiste, who grew up to be a military scout. Here is a statue erected to her memory.

Another mother of note was former Comanche captive, Cynthia Ann Parker. Her son, Quanah Parker, became a famous chief and forger of peace between white men and the Native Americans. She’s also one of the first promoters of public breast feeding, since we have a photo of her taking care of her daughter, Prairie Flower. 

Number three on my list is the mother of the Earp brothers – James, Virgil, Wyatt, and Morgan. They loved their mother, Virginia. According to history, she passed on her common sense and a soft heart for animals and those less fortunate to her son, Wyatt, who became a famous Western lawman.

 

A woman who impresses the hell out of me was Maria Rita Valdez, who fought to keep her home after her husband died. Many tried to take it from her, but she stood stalwart and fought for her rights. Her not-so-tiny spread was known then as Rancho Rodeo de las Aguas – better known today as Rodeo Drive, famed shopping street in Hollywood, California. I don’t have a picture of her, but I do have one of the street. I’m not sure how she’d feel about this transformation, but that’s how the street got its name – from the ranchland it now occupies.

An early crusader for women’s rights was Abigail Scott Duniway.
 Here is a quote from her – one that fits these thoughts today.
“When women’s true history shall have been written, her part in the upbuilding of this nation will astound the world.” 
And she was right.
 This woman was one of the true mothers of our nation. She was not only a mom, Abigail was a teacher, an author, a small business owner, and a crusader for women’s suffrage in the old west. 
When only a teenager, she traveled by wagon train with her family over the Oregon trail. Along the way, she witnessed many things, including cruelty, starvation, and death. She later wrote a book about her experiences.

What worried her the most was watching women work themselves to death for their family but be denied any rights over their life or property. To give herself a platform, she founded a newspaper to raise awareness about the plight of the pioneer women.

When Oregon granted women the right to vote in 1912, she became the first registered woman voter in her county at age 78. And here she is: 

The old west even birthed great women authors – most notably Laura Ingalls Wilder. I grew up watching Little House on the Prairie as I’m sure many of you did.

In a day when few women had no true voice, Laura wrote timeless classics about family, pioneer life, and love.

I don’t really have to tell you her life story, we watched it play out in living color, directed by none other than Little Joe Cartwright.

Look at her picture, I think she resembles Melissa Gilbert – don’t you?

Closer to home, I want to remember my own mother. Her name was Pauline. She was a true character. I was born when she was 37 years old. She lost a baby when she was 17 and waited twenty years to try again. Mother could do anything – like the lady pioneers of the old west – she could run her household, sew like a professional, plant a garden, and harvest and can the vegetables. She could milk a cow, ride a horse, and paint a beautiful landscape. During all this, she made sure I went to school, went to church, took piano lessons, and received a college degree. Mother didn’t have a college education, but she was well read and taught me to love reading also.

When I started writing, my mother was my biggest fan. And these were no ‘sweet’ versions. She read and enjoyed my sensual books – once she became so enthralled reading one that she missed her ‘standing’ hair appointment at the salon. An unbelievable thing for her to do.

When the people of the town found out about my writing and ostracized me for it, I considered quitting. Her advice is why I’m still writing today. Her words will forever be with me. She waved her hand dismissively and gave her opinion of what I should do to the entire community - - “To hell with them,” she said. This should probably be our response to most who give us grief.

So, today I celebrate women who made a difference. I hope the same can be said of me someday.

Thank you for listening to me ramble.

Love – Rebecca Schaefer/Sable Hunter 


Follow Sable
Amazon
Facebook
Sable's Tag Team

 

 

Writing the Old West ~ by Kristine Raymond

It was no surprise to anyone, including me, that the setting for my first book was 1800s Arizona Territory.  From as far back as early childhood, I've been a fan.  I remember sitting on the floor next to my dad watching western movies.  Maybe I was too young to understand the plot, but the action and wildness and lawlessness stirred something inside that I didn't quite comprehend.  All I knew was when that opening theme played and a mounted cowboy rode across the screen, a spark lit deep within my soul that burns to this day.

So, imagine my delight upon discovering Saturday Afternoon at the Westerns.  Now, growing up, my siblings and I were not allowed to sit around in front of the TV all day, so I had to get creative.  Brokering a deal with my mother, she agreed to let me stay indoors and watch television as long as I was 'domestically-occupied'.  Translation - I had to iron my dad's work shirts for the week.  It took me years longer than it should have to realize which one of us got the better end of the bargain, and, to this day, I despise ironing - though I still love my westerns.  Hmmm...maybe I did come out ahead on that one.

© Levy-Gardner-Laven/Four Star Television

The Big Valley was, and is to this day, my favorite.  (I own the entire series on DVD).  I never tire of watching the Barkleys and wanted desperately, as a kid, to move to Stockton, CA.  While I haven't made it that far west yet, the wide open landscape and scenic vistas in this show, and others I watched, are what prompted me to move to Arizona in my early 20s.  But, that's a story for another time.

© Xanadu Productions Inc or its successors

The High Chaparral was my next favorite.  Even as I type this, I can hear the opening theme.  The energy.  The excitement.  The anticipation.  A siren song to a kid with wanderlust in her veins, long before I understood the meaning of the word. 

There were others shows that held a similar appeal.  Alias Smith and Jones, The Rifleman, and Bonanza, and a few years later, Guns of Paradise and The Magnificent Seven.  So, when I sat down to write my first novel, I envisioned a dusty town, a sweeping ranch, and the thundering of hooves.  The backdrop of any great western.  Next came the six-shooters, the hats, the boots and swagger.  In other words, the cowboys.  The story is a romance with a touch of suspense like so many others out there,  but, for me, it's the setting that elevates it to a new plane.

© Kristine Raymond

Writing about the Old West isn't easy, especially for a gal who grew up near the ocean and had only the likes of the Barkleys and Cannons and Cartwrights for reference (okay, yes; I also had books and Google, but for the sake of this post, I'm relying on my television viewing experiences 😉 ), but it gave me a great excuse to pop a disc into the DVD player and revisit my childhood for a few hours.  Without the iron and ironing board!      

Oh, and I always rooted for the horses.


Excerpt from Here to Stay (Book One in the Hidden Springs series)

          Ryan’s Ranch was four hundred and fifty acres of scrub brush and arroyos, trees and grassland.  There was a large stream that ran through the property, a tributary of the Verde River.  Stands of cottonwoods grew along its banks.  Ten miles to the west, the Black Hills loomed, their peaks rugged and uninviting.  It was easy to get lost in those mountains and an ideal place for bandits to hide.  The landscape on the ranch was varying; there were native grasses for pasture and dry, dusty areas that seemed to grow nothing but rock.  Closer to the mountains were abandoned gold and silver mines, Cooper’s mine among them.  Streams and creeks flowed randomly through the property, in some areas forming deep pools that made excellent fishing holes.  During the monsoon season, dry creek beds would fill with fast moving water and flowers brightened the landscape with brilliant color.

          The day broke clear and bright.  It’s warm for this time in April, thought Kate, as she brushed her hair from her face.  She had been up since four, making biscuits and checking to make sure that they had everything they needed to start putting up the fence.  Carly was going to make dinner for everyone each day so that was one thing Kate didn’t have to worry about.  She didn’t need any delays.  Each day put her that much closer to seeing her dream become a reality.  Her own horse ranch!  Her father would have loved it.  She smiled, and then the smile faded as she thought about her father and Christopher.

          No! she thought to herself, you have too much to do.  You can’t think about them right now.  She shook her head as if to clear the unhappy memories and put another pot of coffee on the stove to boil.  She would need plenty of coffee this morning to keep the men fueled up and working.  Besides herself and Daniel, there were the three men she had hired yesterday, plus two she had talked to earlier in the week.  Rusty Flanagan was just a kid, no more than sixteen or seventeen, and worked part-time in the general store.  Simon Archer wasn’t much older and apprenticed at the blacksmith shop behind the livery, with Lars Jensen.  Even though they were young, they both seemed like hard workers and they could use the money. 

          “Riders coming,” she heard Daniel call.  Kate grabbed the pot of now boiling coffee and made her way outside.  She had set up a table earlier with plates, cloth napkins, tin cups and utensils, plus a tray of biscuits, kept steaming hot under a towel.  There was also honey and jam for the biscuits and sugar for the coffee.  She set the hot pot down next to the one she had brought out earlier, just as the riders were dismounting.

          “Morning, Miz’ Ryan,” Jack said. “You look lovely this morning.”

          Sam made a wry face behind Jack’s back and Kate bit back the smile that threatened to appear.

          “Thank you, Mr. Tanner.  Help yourselves to biscuits and coffee.  It’s going to be a long day so I want to get started as soon as possible.”

          Kate turned and walked over to her horse.  The gelding was already saddled and waiting patiently for her to mount.  She patted him gently and he nuzzled her in return.  She noticed Sam watching them.  “Isn’t he beautiful?” she asked.  “His name is Ciarán.   It means ‘dark one’ in Gaelic.”

          As she swung herself into the saddle, Sam couldn’t help but admire the rider more than the horse.  He wondered where her family was; how she came to be on her own.  She seemed to hold herself away from the others, not that she was unkind but her body language said ‘stay away’.  Sam wanted to be the one to make her say ‘come here’.  Crazy, he thought to himself, I don’t know anything about her.  But he was drawn to her in some inexplicable way.  He vowed to make sure he worked alongside of her to try and get her to open up.  He was more than willing to tell a few tales about himself in order to make that happen.

          “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to do some work?” Jack asked as he rode by, churning up as much dust as possible.

          “I’m coming,” coughed Sam, “I’m coming”.

Get it here 

Boot Hill, Boot Hill, Boot Hill

by Patti Sherry-Crews

Boot Hill, Tombstone, AZ

Did you think Boot Hill was located in a specific place. A spot on a map you could stick a pin in. It’s in one of those fabled Old West towns, right? Tombstone. Or were you thinking of Dodge City? Deadwood? Wait, where is Boot Hill?

Well, you better get a box of pins, because there isn’t one graveyard with a weathered, old sign creaking in the wind. In reality Boot Hills, plural, are a type of place in many towns. Wikipedia lists 40 cemeteries who've earned the moniker Boot Hill scattered across the American west from Tombstone, Arizona to Skagway, Alaska. The reputation being its residents  "they died with their boots on" or in other words, probably didn't die in their sleep in a warm cozy bed with some angel of mercy wiping their fevered brow. If they died with their boots on, they probably didn’t expect dying was on the agenda that day. Fell where they stood.

To put Boot Hills in the context of time and place, understand how towns sprang up almost overnight starting in the late 19th century America. Towns built around the mining or cattle industry swelled with those heading west seeking a quick fortune. Men made up a majority of the tide of people pouring in. Lacking the taming influence of wives and families, though having plenty of saloons and weapons, the scene was ripe for trouble. Things being what they were, people started dropping before you could finish the sentence “do you want to say that to my face?”. Where to put the growing number of bodies?

Dodge City, Kansas, situated on the Santa Fe Trail, claims the first Boot Hill. One day a black man called Tex was minding his own business, watching an exchange of gunfire in front of the saloon, like you do, when for no reason someone shot him dead. The shooter said he did it "just to see him kick". Case in point: tough places, these boom towns. The body lay in the street for a time while folks figured out what to do with this man who left behind nobody to mourn him or pay for his burial.

A nearby hill seemed like a good spot to bury Tex. Other such deaths followed and Boot Hill became a pauper's cemetery. Some bodies, buried without the benefit of even a pine box, suffered further indignity when coyotes dug them up.

But then someone noticed there was a nice view from that hill. Too nice a view to be wasted on dead paupers. The hill suddenly had potential. All the bodies were relocated. But people proved skittish about building on a former graveyard and the land didn't sell according to plan. Instead they put a grade school there (of course, they did. Kids were finding human bones in the playground for years). Today, though the original cemetery no longer exists, the Boot Hill Cemetery Museum in Dodge City is a tourist attraction.

Boot Hill and Hangman's Tree, Dodge City, Kansas

One of the best known Boot Hill cemeteries you can visit today is in Tombstone, Arizona. The rise and fall and rise again of this cemetery in a mining town typifies the cycle of a boom-town and its accompanying Boot Hill in the west.

It was in 1879 when the people of Tombstone starting using a dry, dusty, cactus-filled patch on the edge of town for burials. There was even a Chinese and a Jewish section. Among its most famous residents are the Cowboys who were on the losing end of the conflict known as shootout at the OK Corral. The Cowboys, Bill Clanton and the McLaury brothers, are buried here. The victors, Doc Holliday and the Earp brothers lived to fight another day, moved on, and eventually died to be buried elsewhere.

The last burial in this cemetery took place in 1884. Of those 300 burials, about 40% are of those who died before their expiration date. So noteworthy was a peaceful death that one grave marker reads, "M.E. Kellogg 1882, Died a Natural Death."

Number and causes of “premature” deaths in Tombstone Boothill:

2 Died in childbirth  

5 Suicide                  

7 Apaches                

10 Hanged                

21 Accident (mainly mining related or drownings)

21 Disease                

52 Gunshot, knife, or blunt instrument  

Of course, the cemetery wasn't called Boothill back in the day. It was simply the Tombstone Cemetery. Then in 1884 a new cemetery was built, and that other place with graves was called...the old cemetery. The old cemetery wasn't called Boothill until the 1920's when Dime store westerns became popular.

After the new City Cemetery was built many townspeople with money had their loved ones moved to where they weren’t spending eternal slumber alongside gunslingers and prostitutes. The old cemetery was neglected. The wooden slab markers were taken as souvenirs or used for firewood by vagrants, cattle roamed through, and in general the place became a dump, reverting back to nature.

But then the town of Tombstone got a second wind thanks to the interest in westerns and tourism. In the 1920’s there were enough old-timers around who knew where the bodies were buried. Literally. Well, they remembered where most of them were buried. Some had to have “Unknown” inscribed on the new wooden slabs, but they may have gone to the grave as unknowns the first time around as well.

So the old cemetery was recreated for the sake of tourism and called Boothill (one word here). And I hate tell you this but some of the more colorful epitaphs may have been embellished with the tourist trade in mind.

Not all boom-towns survived the decline of the industries that built them. Some morphed into ghost towns, which are kind of cool in their own way. Towns like Deadwood, Tombstone, and Dodge City with their Boot Hills and remaining structures have value. We can read about the events of the old west in books, but seeing the relics of those days adds a flavor you get from the sometimes dry pages of history. And how a people bury their dead often tells us more about the people who buried the bodies than about the dead themselves. Walking through boot hills you meet not only the major players such as Wild Bill in Deadwood.

But we also meet the lesser characters. Men and women from all walks of life and parts of the world who helped settle the west. People who would otherwise be lost to us such as two from China who died in Tombstone, Arizona a long way from home.

You can find Patti Sherry-Crews books set in the old west and more on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Patti-Sherry-Crews/e/B01C7L8QUU/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_4

Images from Wikicommons

Happy New Year!

from Shanna Hatfield

Wow! It's hard to believe today is the start of a new year, but I'm wishing each one of you a beautiful, bright beginning to 2019!

How do you plan to spend this first day of the year? 

I'll be working on putting goals on paper, hanging out with Captain Cavedweller, and hopefully getting in some reading. 

If you're looking for something to read, I have two new books out, one a sweet holiday historical and one a sweet contemporary time-travel romance! 

He needs a holiday miracle. . .

She’s prepared to deliver one

Claire Baker does nothing halfway. She makes it a point to follow her heart, even when it leads her to a small Eastern Oregon town to stay with relatives. In truth, she loves Hardman and the people there. Which is why she wants a recluse she met in the woods and his adorable daughter to join in the community holiday celebrations. The more time they spend together, the more she realizes she’s fallen hopelessly in love with both of them.

All Grayson Carter wants is to be left alone. That’s why he built his cabin in the middle of more than a thousand acres of woods, seeking to disappear from the world and keep his daughter, Maddie, safe.  Then a beautiful interloper appears and becomes quite determined in her efforts of drawing him back into the land of the living. As she brings him and Maddie Christmas cheer, he realizes falling in love with her could be the best and worst thing he’s ever done.

With Christmas fast approaching, a mystery to be solved, and old-fashioned holiday fun, this sweet historical romance will fill your heart with the joys of the season.
The Christmas Melody, available now on Amazon.

Can true love endure across the constraints of time?

 Prepare to have your heart captured in this time-travel romance.

Archaeologist Hannah Clayton has the unique talent of clearly imagining the past as she unearths artifacts in the present. When she stumbles across a cave with a wall of hidden petroglyphs, she’s giddy with excitement. At least until a man dressed like a caveman appears out of nowhere and scares her witless.

Inexplicably drawn to the cavedweller who calls himself Thor, Hannah has to decide if he’s involved in an elaborate hoax or if he’s a walking miracle. Thor is unlike any man she’s ever encountered. From the moment they meet, she knows nothing will ever be the same.

He acts as though he adores her, makes her laugh, and fills her world with more joy than her heart can hold. But are the bonds they share strong enough to keep Thor beside her and prevent his return to the past?

A sweet romance, Capturing the Cavedweller’s Heart takes readers on a lighthearted journey sprinkled with tidbits of history and wrapped in the hope of lasting love.

Happy, Happy New Year!

  

The Tenderloin District of Baker City

by Shanna Hatfield

Research for my soon-to-be-released fifth book in the Baker City Brides series unearthed some interesting details.

I generally assume any town in the old west probably had more than its share of brothels and houses of ill repute, but I hadn't looked into much history of what would have been found in Baker City, Oregon, in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

From the details I could find, Baker City was no exception to that general rule.

Baker County Library District

The above photo shows Baker City in 1900. In the middle of the photo is an impressive looking mansion. In fact, that building served as a popular brothel for many years. To the bottom right of the photo where sloped roofs of what looks like shacks are visible, is part of Chinatown, where more than twenty "cribs" existed.  In the center of the back of the photo, the Geyser Grand Hotel is visible, standing tall over the other buildings in town.

Some of the brothels were simply called "female boarding houses" which must have been confusing to people who didn't know what the businesses really were. In fact, one such establishment had a sign out front that said "Furnished Rooms to Let."

Baker County Library, Baker City, Oregon

This photo is of a working girl and her son, circa 1900.

In an effort to keep the "unsavory" businesses from running amuck through town, those who engaged in certain "illicit" business were eventually relegated to a section of town that became known as the Red Light  or Tenderloin District.   Reportedly, some of the cat houses even had red lights shining in their windows when they were open for business.

Some of the city officials were determined to keep the bawdy houses away from prominent business buildings and to be out of sight of “respectable people.” One article even reported the arrest of a young man flaunting a red tie, known for his "procurement" work with houses of ill repute, for living off the wages of a working girl.

In Lightning and Lawmen (Baker City Brides Book 5), the hero of the story, who also happens to be a deputy in town, goes to one of the popular bawdy houses when there is a shooting.

Dugan returned to the girls who had gathered around Jenny. “Was anyone else injured?”

“One of our customers tried to wrestle the gun away from him and took a bullet in the leg. He’s still upstairs.” A girl Dugan thought went by the name of Trixie spoke.

Dugan nodded at her and carefully edged around Jenny’s body before he rushed upstairs. A man Dugan was taken aback to see in a brothel sat propped against a door in the hallway and tried to staunch the blood flowing from his leg with a spotless white handkerchief.

“Surprised to see you here, Mr. Mayor.”

The man glared at Dugan. “I’d prefer my presence at this establishment remain unknown, Deputy Durfey. 

“

“Not my place to say anything. I am a little curious, though, how you’re gonna explain the bullet wound to your wife. Why aren’t you at the opera house this evening?” 

Lightning and Lawmen will release June 28!

     After spending her formative years on a farm in eastern Oregon, hopeless romantic Shanna Hatfield turns her rural experiences into sweet historical and contemporary romances filled with sarcasm, humor, and hunky heroes.

     When this USA Today bestselling author isn’t writing or covertly hiding decadent chocolate from the other occupants of her home, Shanna hangs out with her beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller.

     Shanna loves to hear from readers. Follow her online at:

ShannaHatfield | Facebook | Newsletter | BookBub | Pinterest | Goodreads | You Tube | Twitter

     Find Shanna’s books at:

Amazon | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | Apple | Audible