Imagine.....

 Think about this...in all of the territory west of the mighty Mississippi River, there was approximately One woman for every 200 men.

Suitors may have lined up at your door.

Perhaps you were bargained for like a prized cow.

Would their have been fights for your hand?

How would you have know the man would honor and love you all the days of your life? 

The idea of making a name for themselves drew men west. Whether it was gold, silver, timber or cattle, the vast expanse of the American continent and the idea of Manifest Destiny put the male population on the move. But a man needed more than just his horse, his land, his dreams. He needed to share it with a woman who would hold him fast and give him sons to fill his destiny. But if women were not to be found, how would he achieve the end?

They placed ads in newspapers, magazine, and catalogues that were mailed to homes in the east. Today, we might use dating services on line or off line to snag a mate. And just like in the 1800's, some exaggerated their descriptions or out right lied about their intentions. There was no guarantee that the person you were reading about or writing to was real. It could have been a group of cowboys, timber men, or miners that employed a better educated friend to write on their behalf or even read the letters that arrived to them.

What drew them together was faith. Faith in the art of love. Faith in human nature. Faith in giving with all their heart.

Some of these ads actually were seen in papers abroad on the European  continent. Imagine, paying ships passage to come to America, surviving the landing in New York, Charleston, Baltimore, Savannah, or even New Orleans. Then heading inland by stage to some tiny, dirt filled landmark that was supposed to be paved with gold. Imagine the heart break at seeing streets lined with horse muck, mud, squaller and knowing that there was no turning back.

Yet, women did come. 

The ads were limited to only personal information such as appearances, your height, your weight, what financial situations you were in what social standing you might have.  You could even give a description of what kind of person you were eager to meet. Cost? Oh yes, there was a cost - to men.

Ladies might publish free if under 40 words while gentlemen paid twenty five cents. Any words over both male and female paid a penny a word. Names were not given. Instead each person was issued a number. Replies were sent to the publications in sealed envelopes marked with the number of the ad.

What did an ad look like:  A widower, merchant and stockman lives in Kansas, 46 years old, height 6 feet, weight 210 pounds, brunette, black hair and eyes, wishes to correspond with ladies of same age, without encumbrances and with means, must move in the best society and be fully qualified to help make a happy home: object, matrimony. ( historynet.org)

The answer might appear: There is a lad in Missouri with a foot that is flat, with seeds in this pocket and a brick in his hat, with an eye that is blue and a number ten shoe. He's the bull of the woods and just the man for you. (Historynet.org)

What ever worked the ladies came. They came with their dishes, their books, their dreams and they put down roots. Those of us now living thank them.

 

Till next time,

Nan

If you want to get in touch a sweet historical series about mail order brides be sure to check out Sweet Promise Press ' Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge. https://sweetpromisepress.com/library/

 

Reasons to be a cowboy.

 Growing up, we all fantasized about riding the range with our heroes. In the 1960's, 1970's, cowboys were all the rage. You couldn't turn on the TV any night of the week without some yarn about a cowboy, a ranch, and learning lessons of life. 

So, if YOU had to come up with reasons to be a cowboy, what would they be????

5. Cowboys don't have to wear designer high heels.

I mean really, the idea of Gucci or Jimmy Choo with a pair of spurs doesn't really capture the moment.

A down to earth pair of boots, either square toed or pointed serve the purpose well. Spurs, well they are a bit optional. You can accessorize by just having a plain blunt end or a wheel. Me, well... mine where of course turquoise blue with a blunt wheel and mainly just for show. I'd never use them to rake a horse's side. My mare was so well trained that a gentle squeeze of my boots along her side worked wonders. And, to tell the truth, the blunt ends don't make any sound when you swagger.

4. Being a cowboy means you don't have to live in town.

Yeah, four lanes of horses, buggies, other wagons hauling merchandise would gum up the works at rush hour. Of course, for a cowboy, rush hour usually means one of two things : the herd is coming in off the range and rushing toward water or the cowboys are coming in to wash up and head to town to ' rewater ' with something other than what runs from the crick.

Cowboys get to see nature as the Master of the Universe intended. Free of signs, horns ( unless they are long ), and bright lights that cover the star encrusted night sky. On the range, animals herald in the the dawn and sing the moon through the night sky.

3. Being a cowboy means you don't have to eat bait.

Let's face it, cowboys don't wrangle fish. Oh, they might head down the stream with a pole when the boss isn't looking. Dip the hook in and tie the string around his big toe so that if the fish bites he can open one eye, take a gander if its big enough to fill the pan, or one he has to throw back. But, he is sure enough going to have to cook it.

It's not a bad thing to lay back, with your hands behind your head, and watch the clouds roll by as the warm breeze massages the stiffness of your joints and the days worries out of your soul. Besides, you raise cattle, heaven knows if you don't name it, the misses will let you eat it.

2. Being a cowboy means being part of a culture.

That's right. They are culture. A cowboy is found in lots of books. He is the subject of romantic intentions, historical notes, in paintings, sculptures. They even write songs about him and his way of life. Why he even has his own museums. Why a good cowboy can become famous if he's not careful.

1. Being a cowboy means your life is never dull.

Cowboys are probably the most ADHD critter on the face of the earth. At any given moment they are doing up to three things at one time. Take roping. You got to guide your horse with your legs. Reins might be held loosely between your fingers of one hand while the other is hold a rope over head, twirling the thing and judging the distance between horse and cow to make an accurate throw. I bet you won't find that in your calculus class.

But the art of roping is a beautiful thing to watch. It is a skill mastered through determination and practice. Roping starts young. You can find the littlest cowboy watching his pa or his big brother through the motions. He's gaining knowledge that few can give through words. It is absorbed. Rendered and then brought to life when he is given a saw horse with a pair of horns placed on the end so he can practice stationary skills of tossing that loop around the horns. The horse comes after that is mastered. It's a rare and beautiful thing when it comes together in a singular motion. Quite a work of art.

But maybe the best reason of all for being a cowboy is to carry on the tradition of working the land. Its a job that doesn't give many acculturates. You won't win an Oscar, an Emmy, Grammy, or Tony. What you do win is the admiration of your soul. You know that thing deep down that keeps you grounded, that helps you put your feet on the safe and narrow. A cowboy only wants to live his life to the best of his ability and give that bit of ground, that sod, that earth, to the next generation with a few improvements to make it easier on the next fellow. He wants to leave a legacy of being honest, a man of his word, a fellow that can be depended on. He wants to leave his friends with the best memories. His girl with enough dreams to last a lifetime and more.

Ah, yes, to be a cowboy is a grand thing. When I grow up, I hope I can be one too.

 

Until Next time,

Happy trails,

Nan.

The Cowgirl Behind the Dreams...

My guest today, award winning author Heidi M. Thomas, is sharing with us the story behind her books.  I hope you enjoy her post as much as I did.  Welcome Heidi, and thank you for being on Cowboy Kisses today.  On with your post...

The Cowgirl Behind Cowgirl Dreams and Follow the Dream

In a scrapbook my grandmother created is a clipping from the Sunburst Sun (Montana) newspaper, Aug. 26, 1922, that reads:

Program

1:00 Parade of cowboys and cowgirls, headed by Cut Bank brass band

2:30 Tootsie Bailey will enter competition with entire field, riding wild steers with only one hand on cirsingle

Another clipping states “Tootsie Bailey won first and Mary (Marie) Gibson second prize in the steer riding.”

Marie Gibson was a well-known Montana cowgirl and won national awards for bronc riding.

Tootsie was my grandmother and she would have been 17 at that time. I did have the opportunity to spend time with her, ride horseback, and get to know her pretty well before she died suddenly when she was only 57 and I was 12.

I know that she was an avid horsewomen and that she was more at home on the back of a horse than behind a dust mop. My dad told me she had competed in rodeos, riding steers, when she was young. I kept thinking how courageous that was, especially as I got older and watched bull and bronc riders. Grandma was petite—five-feet two-inches and weighed a little over 100 pounds. I was amazed that she would pit herself against an animal that weighed 900 pounds or so, one whose sole purpose was to get that pesky rider off its back and then maybe stomp on her!

My character, Nettie, has a dream to become a rodeo star and the tenaciousness to follow that dream. In Cowgirl Dreams  (EPIC Award Winner), during the 1920s, she faces family and social barriers to that dream. The sequel, Follow the Dream (a WILLA Literary Award Winner), finds her still holding on to her dream. But the drought and depression of the 1930s forces her to make some tough choices and rethink how her dream works in with her family and life in Montana.

Excerpt from Follow the Dream:

Sunday, August 10, 1930

Dust still blowing. Will it ever stop? So long since we’ve had even a drop of rain. Worried about the horses. Not much grass left. Jake’s not himself….

Nettie stopped writing. What was that noise? A low clicking hum. The wind? No. She’d never heard it like that. The sound grew louder. She stood and went to the window.

At first she didn’t see anything. The air hung hot and still. Her mind filled with confusion. Then a movement down by the corral caught her eye. A dark river of motion, flowing, clicking, humming.

Grasshoppers.

Nettie sprinted for the door. “Neil! Where are you?”  Frantic, she ran toward the barn. “Neil!”

“Here I am, Ma.” His small voice came from the hayloft. He pointed to the mass off to one side. “What’s that?”

She climbed up the ladder inside the barn and sat beside him. “Grasshoppers, honey. They won’t hurt you.” The whirring, low-flying cloud clung to the ground, slowly moving through small patches of withered grass, leaving the ground as bare table-top, swarming over the corral fence. What was left of the posts stood like skeleton bones, stark and fragile.

Her son’s eyes were wide, pools of gray-green in the dim light. “What are they doing?”

“They’re eating.” Revulsion fought her calm words.

“Why did they eat the corral poles?”

“Because there aren’t any crops and not much grass left.” She tried to still the fluttering fear inside her stomach. Now there won’t be any grass left for our horses.

Nettie and Neil watched until darkness settled around the path of destruction left in the insects’ wake. Jake rode in from town and found them still sitting in the open door of the hayloft.

Both books are available through my website http://www.heidimthomas.com, from my publisher http://www.trebleheartbooks.com/SDHeidiThomas.html. Follow the Dream is also available on Kindle and Cowgirl Dreams on Nook.

Heidi M. Thomas grew up on a ranch in eastern Montana and now lives in western Washington where she writes, edits for other authors, teaches community writing classes and blogs http://heidiwriter.wordpress.com She is a member of Women Writing the West (http://www.womenwritingthewest.org, Skagit Valley Writers League (http://www.skagitwriters.org) , Northwest Independent Editors Guild (http://www.edsguild.org) and VBT—Writers on the Move (http://www.vbt-writersonthemove.blogspot.com) .