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.
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| © 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.
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| © Xanadu Productions Inc or its successors
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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.
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| © 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”.
