Christmas on the Prairie

Every year at this time, my thoughts turn to the Christmas' portrayed in Little House On The Prairie.  Stores were miles away, and families took pride in handmade gifts.  I can picture Laura's face pressed against the foggy glass window of their shanty, looking out at the rapidly following snow.

In the corner of the house, always sat a small tree decorated with homemade objects like red berries and popcorn.  Imagine the time spent stringing those things.

Of course, stockings...real ones, not the fancy ones we use these days, were hung and that's usually where handmade scarves, hats, apples, oranges, or other treasures were placed.  There were no gayly decorated wrapping papers, so things to big to fit in the stocking, like a new shirt for pa, were wrapped in plain brown paper.  The real treats were the fancy supper fixins'.  

As you celebrate the holiday, think about how good you have it, and when you're buried in piles of colorful wrapping, think of Pa, Ma, Laura, Mary and Baby Grace.

Things you May Not Know About Me by Ginger Simpson

Please excuse my non-western post, but I'm on vacation, and doing the best I can while I'm gone.  This was scheduled in May, so I'm running out of recycled blogs that I've featured elsewhere.  :)

1. What’s the naughtiest thing you've ever done?  

If I tell you then I’d have to kill you.  I won’t go into details, but let’s just say that when I divorced at age fifty, after thirty-two years of marriage and never having lived on my own, I went through my second childhood and became the party animal I never was.  It was fun, but very tiring and overwhelming.  The rules of dating had seriously changed. 

2. What’s the worst job you've ever had? 

I worked for a small company run by the world’s angriest man.  I believe that business is where the saying “the s**t runs downhill” originated.  The owner took his frustrations out on the office manager, who then beat up the employees with his own.  I had a sprained ankle one day and walked from my desk to the copy machine in my stocking feet (about three feet away) and he yelled at me for being unprofessional.  It’s not like the office was open to the public.  It was just me and another girl.  She was hired one day and quit the same afternoon. Then he found something stapled crookedly and demanded to know who stapled it.  I didn’t last beyond his accusing me of knowingly not preparing minutes for a meeting.  Did he seriously think I wanted to be on the receiving end of his wrath? He was definitely not the kind of supervisor who made you want to put forward your best effort to make him look good.

3. Tell us three surprising things about yourself, one of which is a fib - and we'll try to guess the fib. 

1.    I parasailed at 700 feet while in Maui.

2.    I was diagnosed with Parvo Virus B-19 which lasted for an entire year.

3.    I got invited backstage at an Eagle’s concert and the lead singer, Don Henley, kissed me.

4. What’s on your bedside table/nightstand? 

A myriad of items… Since our bedroom is in the basement, I have a weather radio that alerts us to tornado warnings/watches, a lamp, a box of Kleenex, a jar of Vicks, a tiny travel alarm clock, my electric blanket control, and a white noise machine.  It sounds like a lot but it’s all very orderly.  Oh, I forgot my bottle of water.  I think that’s it. 

5. What your favorite sandwich, and where in the world is the best place to eat it? 

I grew up near Riverside, California, and there’s a place called Delia’s Grinders there.  I started having their sandwiches when I was in 7^th grade, and they are hands down, the absolute best.  Everyone I’ve introduced to Delia’s agrees with me.  I think the secret is their freshly made bread.  Yum…making my mouth water.  Delia's is always on my agenda when I travel to California...at So. Cal.

6. Which household chore would you happily give up for ever?

Oh dear, it’s a toss up between cleaning toilets and cooking.  I hate both.  I think it’s because I’m old and I’ve done both for so many years.  I’ve pretty much relinquished the cooking to my husband.  He’s much better than I, anyhow.  As for the toilets…they stay cleaned, but I don’t have to like it. 

7. What talent or skill would you love to have that you don’t have now?

I would love to be able to sing.  I suppose I can carry a tune, but I got a clue that I’m not all that stellar when I was singing in the car while my son was with me, and he asked, “Who sings this song, Mom?”  I told him who the artist was, and his reply was, “well please let her.”

8. What drives you seriously nuts? 

When God created me, he gave me too much of everything…except lips.  The older I get, the more I resemble a snake, but I explain that by saying I can’t hear well so I got in the hip line twice.  (laughing out loud)  But seriously, I can’t hear well because I have too much carotid artery on both sides of my head and I hear the rushing of blood to my brain 24/7.  During the day, I can tune it out with background noises, but trying to sleep at night is the pits.  The diagnosing doctor told me he would shoot himself if he had to listen to the noise, but that’s not a solution for me.  I continually remind myself that as long as I hear it, I’m still alive. 

9. You're given a time travel machine - where would you go, and why?

If you’re familiar with my work, then you know my favorite genre is western historical.   I would definitely travel back to the old west and personally research the era I love to write about.  I realize life would be much tougher than I have it here, so I’d make certain when things got too difficult, the time machine would whisk me away, but leave me the option of going back again and again.  Gotta love those cowboys and admire those pioneers.

10. What’s the best review you've ever had?

I’ve been fortunate to have really great reviews, and I consider anything where the reviewer indicates my writing put them in the main characters shoes and let them experience the story to be the greatest compliment.  If an author can make the reader smell the smells, feel the breeze, cry during the sad times, and rejoice at the good, then I’ve down what I need to do to create a compelling read.  I just wish I knew how to convince folks they need to read my stories.  :)

*********

Did you guess the fib?  I've never been in a room with Don Henley, but I would imagine being kissed by him would beat the heck out of having Parvo.  I thought only dogs got that.  *lol*  If a kid with Fifth's Disease comes near you...run like the wind.  Don't know what that disease is?  Google it, and you'll learn just like I did.

Calamity Jane as written in Meet the Legends - Destination Deadwood

Calamity Jane was born Martha Jane Canary.  My favorite movie is Buffalo Gals, but it doesn't follow history as I've recently discovered.

Jane was married a number of times, and although the movie claims Wild Bill Hickok as the father or her only child, little is known about her marriages and lovers.

In line with the movie, she was a female bushwacker with language so strong men feared it more than her gun, which rarely missed its mark.  She came to Deadwood in 1876 and made it a permanent home, but ventured freely from time to time.  She caroused with drunkards, gamblers and miners, and even, during a small pox outbreak in a mining camp, nursed many back to health.  To some she was a true angel.

Her reputation varies depending upon who you believe.  She was kind and took care of the less fortunate, or a renegade who was drunk and disorderly.  She was never known to have stolen anything, however, but always got what she needed....at gunpoint.

Buffalo Gals centered on her love for Wild Bill, but he was married to his beloved Agnes, who awaited his return in Cheyenne.  If there was a love affair, it was definitely one-sided as Wild Bill never strayed.

Jane died August 1, 1903 and was buried, at her request, near Wild Bill in the Mt. Moriah Cemetery.  Some say she coudn't be near him in life, but would forever be close to him in death.  A combination of pneumonia and alcoholism made her dream a reality. 

Tatanka

Stands with a Fist original costume

 If you read westerns that involve Native Americans, you've probably seen the word "Tatanka" a lot.  I had the good fortune of visiting the site in South Dakota, financed by Kevin Costner in honor of his famous movie,Dances with Wolves.  Since my debut novel and a successor were set in the "sacred hills," Paha sapa, I was anxious to soak in as much as I could about an area I'd only imagined.  It was amazing and I took some pictures to share.

The first thing is the Tatanka (Buffalo) that met me at the doorway to this mini-museum.

The next thing was the amazing photo gallery that showed how White man destroyed the very animal that the Indians depended on for virtually everything.  Bladders were used as water receptacles as we use canteens, stomachs were used as cooking vessels by dropping hot stones into the content, sinew or tendons were used for sewing, bowstrings, and other things, and bones were used for scraping smooth the many hides that served as lodge coverings, blankets and clothings.  There is so much more to share but I'll post my pictures and hope you'll be as disgusted as I was.

Buffalo killed for sport

Buffalo skulls piled high as proof of the kill

And my favorite, besides the authentic costumes was the buffalo jump made of metal that showed one of the oldest manners in which Indian warriors collected only the animals they needed to survive:

As you can see, a presentation was involved by a lovely Lakota Woman who told interesting tales about her ancestors.  I wish I had gotten her name, but I only recall that when the Indians were forced to the reservation, they were told they must take a first and last name.  Her family wanted Lakota words meaning two buffalo, but were not allowed the Sioux words, but Two Buffalo is last name I will always respect.  When we left I had a sudden need to hug her and apologize for what my ancestors did to hers.  She was wonderful as she passed around the bladder, stomach, and bones as examples of necessities of her tribe.  The Black Hills are indeed sacred, and I understand more now than through my research why the Sioux wanted to hold on to them.

Crazy Horse

I'm very fortunate to be able to take a cross-country RV trip and see sights I've only heard of.  One of my desired stops was South Dakota since I'm enamoured with the Sioux and a few of my westerns deal with the Paha Sapa (Black Hills.)  As we drove through the beautiful mountains of the area, my mind pictured brave warriors among the trees and I immediately saw why they viewed the hills as sacred and wanted to keep them.

I'm sharing a bit of what I learned there from visiting the Crazy House Museum:

Taken from Observation Deck

Firstly, the park is not a federal or state park and is fully funded by the visitors.  We also saw Mount Rushmore and learned the carving of those sculptures inspired this second colossal piece of art.
I say colossal because the faces on Mt. Rushmore would all fit on one of Crazy Horse's cheek.

Korcak Zlolkowsk (jewel-cuff-ski)  assisted in the carving of Mt Rushmore in 1939 and was contacted by Chief Henry Standing Bear of the Oglala, asking him to consider carving a sculpture dedicated to the American Indian, in fact the reason in the letter stated a desire to let the white man know the Indian also had heroes. Korcak agreed and with only $174 in his pocket began work in 1948. Lots of blasting has taken place and still there is lots to do.

Ruth Ross followed Korcak to South Dakota to be an assistant, and in 1950 they married.  They had ten children to make this a family undertaking.  Sadly, Korzak died in in 1982 and Ruth ran the foundation they started to assure completion of the sculpture.  Ruth passed in 2014 and some of the family members and staff carry on the dream.

To give you an idea how big the finished product will be, the head is 87 1/2 feet high, his feather will be 44 feet, his arm will be 253 feet, horse's head 219 feet and the entire piece will be 641 feet long and 563 feet high.  I took this information directly from a flyer we received.

Here is an example of what the finished product will look like:

Wild Bill Hickok as noted in "Destination Deadwood"

I was so lucky to get literature during my vacation about some of the most legendary folks in South Dakota so today I'm going to talk about Wild Bill Hickok.  He was noted as one of the most popular inhabitants of Deadwood, perhaps because it was the place he died.

He came to Deadwood from Abilene when he was hired to uphold the law.  His undoing came when he accidentally shot and killed his deputy.  Remorse drove him to poker, and he was eventually asked by concerned citizens to move on.

Wild Bill joined Buffalo Bill Cody's wild west show because of his excellent horsemanship and being a superb marksman, but failed miserably as an actor because of stage fright.

Discovery of Gold in the Black Hills brought him to Deadwood after Cody let him go.  He traveled with his good friend, Colorado Charlie Utter with the aim of striking it rich.  Hickok's goal was not to be, and he's buried in Mt. Moriah cemetery overlooking the city.

As I said, Hickok came to Deadwood in June of 1876 in order to strike it rich.  Newly married, his beloved Agnes awaited his return to Cheyenne, however on Augst 2, 1876, he walked into Saloon #10 in Deadwood, sat with his back to the door and never saw a loser named, Jack McCall, come within three feet and whip out his 45 and pull the trigger supposedly because the gambler killed his brother but was not held accountable.  McCall was hanged in 1877.  Wild Bill wa not used to sitting with his back to the door, but on this particular day, no one was willing to switch seats with him.

Ever since Wild Bill was shot while playing poker, the hand he held,  black aces and eights is known as "the deadman's hand."  I think if I drew those two pair plus the nine of diamonds as he did, I'd be a little more than nervous.

The original headstone carved by his friend Charlie Utter read,
"Pard, we will meet again in the happy hunting ground to part no more."

Interesting facts:
Wild Bill owed a $50.00 drink tab to Saloon No.10 at the time of his murder.

A Brief Look at Ellie's Legacy by Ginger Simpson #historicalromance #southernhistory

Fall in Tennessee

 I live in beautiful Tennessee.  I was born and raised in California so relocating to a new state at this stage of my life was a shock to my system.  The biggest surprise: I grew to love it here.

Our first Snow Experience

 Unlike California, where the four seasons aren't as readily apparent, you can definitely see the differences here in the South.  Spring brings back leaves to all the barren trees and is probably my most most favorite time of the year.  By summer everything is lush and green, and the fireflies light up the night.  Come Fall, all those leaves turn bright reds, oranges and yellows before they disappear again, and the winter temps aren't so horrible that you freeze, but give the opportunity to dress in layers while enjoying the intermittent storms that roll through.  Moving to Sparta, TN was the impetus behind my historical novel, Sparta Rose.  I also discovered a new calling in life here...serving as a correctional officer at the local jail.  That experience provided fodder for another novel, but that's a story for another visit.  *smile*

A Genuine Log House

Tennessee is rich in history, and writing historical with an old west feel is my favorite genre, both reading and writing.  When we first moved here, we lived in a log house, on a hundred acres, on Bon Air Mountain. For someone who had worked and lived with conveniences close at hand, this was a real change.

The Rock House - Stage Stop

 The country area, filled with abandoned coal mines, a preserved stage stop displaying evidence of past lives, lots of old buildings, rivers named after Indian chiefs, and old timers who've been around for years, stirred me to find out more about my new home.

 Colorful characters I met gave personality to those in my novel, and with Roselle Fountain as my guide, Ellie's Legacy came to life.  I'd like to share the blurb and excerpt with you:

Blurb:

Ellie Fountain has a dilemma--Tyler Bishop, the handsome ranch foreman who's won favor with her Pa.  Ellie's determined to prove to them she can do anything a man can do, even if it means buying a gun and learning to shoot.

Her father's ranch, Fountainhead, is her legacy and she aims to protect it from the Bryants, the trio next door who are using bullying tactics to purchase all the land in the area. When she accepts Ty's 'forced' invitation to a local dance, she never expects to find herself kidnapped and held hostage in an old drafty shack hidden somewhere in the snowy Tennessee Mountains.  She shouldn't have left the dance in such a huff without telling someone.

Excerpt:

Ellie led Chessie out of the stall and mounted. Ty walked alongside as she rode out of the barn. Hopefully he was wrong about the Bryant’s being in town because she planned to make this trip come hell or high water. One incident wasn’t about to keep her ranch-bound; if anything, it was the reason to go and buy that gun.

Once outside, she reined her horse and looked down at Ty. “Tell Pa I’ll be home before sundown.”

Ty peered up from under the dusty brim of his hat. “You best be.”

Those eyes pierced her very soul, until he opened his mouth and ruined it. She nudged her mount in the sides and left him standing in a cloud of swirling dirt. “Don’t tell me what to do, Tyler Bishop,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You aren’t my boss.”

A smile tugged at her lips. It pleased her to put him in his place and leave before he could utter a sound. Her smile blossomed into an actual giggle at the thought of him wheezing and sneezing in the wake of her departure.

The invigorating gallop created a cool breeze across Ellie’s face. She pushed thoughts of the gunshot from her mind, relaxed back against the saddle cantle and took a deep breath of fresh air. Her mare was so accustomed to the downhill trail to town there was no need for a heavy hand on the reins. The leather straps hung loosely alongside the mare’s neck while Ellie kept sync with Chessie’s movement.

Along the rim, Ellie admired the beauty of Calf Killer Valley, so named after a Cherokee chief whose tribe inhabited the area in the early 1800s. Ellie couldn’t recall ever seeing an Indian, but she tried to picture what the chief might have looked like.

Amid the sprawling fields of wheat, tobacco and rye, she imagined tepees and red-skinned people. Yet, most of them had Ty’s face and eyes.

She stopped daydreaming and focused on the type of sidearm to buy and tried to determine a good spot to practice, out of prying eyes. The area around the old mineshaft about five miles from the ranch came to mind. She’d have to pass the rock house where the stagecoach stopped, but the spot was well beyond there.

“Yep, that’s the place,” she muttered and spurred her mount faster, anxious to get to Sparta and make her purchase.

Chessie’s sure-footedness handled the oft-traveled trail with ease. The ruts left by countless wagon trains ran deep, marring the road taken by hundreds in search of a place to settle–many in Bon Air and others passing through and following the bigger Caney Fork River to surrounding areas.

Ellie’s thoughts strayed to the many coalmines hidden deep beyond the trees peppering the hillsides. Luckily, there was one that had played out and would serve her purpose just fine.

Lost in reverie, the usual hour trip seemed much shorter. Before she realized it, she was in town.

Ellie slowed Chessie to a walk, waved at Reverend Franklin as he left the church, and reined the mare to the hitching post in front of the mercantile. She dismounted, stood on the plank walkway and brushed the dust from her clothing before going inside.

The bells on the door jingled.

Percy McCord looked up from the counter, and flashed a huge smile.

His teeth reminded her of Chessie’s—long and yellowed. In addition to his horsy appearance, countless freckles dotted Percy’s pasty skin, and fire-red curls framed his face.

“Good day, Miz Roselle. You’re looking particularly lovely this fine day.”

“Thank you, Percy.” She smiled.

“What can I do for you?”

The way he rubbed his hands together when he spoke made Ellie uneasy, but she forced herself to return his smile. God forbid he mistook it for any type of interest in him. Despite his good manners, he repulsed her.

She walked to the counter. “I’d like to look at some of your sidearms please.”

One red brow arched. “Sidearms? Why Miz Roselle, what in the world are you going to do with a gun.”

“It’s a gift,” she lied. Her lips tightened into a thin line of impatience. She hated untruths. Why was everyone always in her business? First Ty, now Percy.

Men!

Percy moved to the weapons’ display case and gestured. “We have a large assortment. Will this be on your father’s account?”

“No, I’m sure I have enough money of my own.” She crossed her fingers and studied the guns in the new-fangled glass display.

“I’d like to hold that one.” She pointed to a shiny silver revolver.

Percy handed it to her. “It’s a beauty, just got it in this week. It’s one of those new Colts. A thirty-six caliber. But depending on who the gift is for, that big ol’ Colt might be a little too much. You might want to take a look at this new Smith & Wesson twenty-two caliber.” He gestured to another pistol.

Ellie eyed the blue plated weapon with rosewood grips and wrinkled her nose. “It looks so small in comparison.”

“Yes, but this one is a single action, seven shot model rather than the old cap and ball design. It’s much easier to load and fire.” Percy eyed her suspiciously, “Are you sure this ain’t for you Miz Ellie? If it is, I’m certain you’ll find the Smith more suitable to your abilities.”

A typical man’s attitude.

Her jaw tensed. When would people quit treating her like a child?

She held the revolver like an expert, measuring its weight and overall feel, but eyed the one to which he pointed, and then shook her head. The Colt was much more impressive. Its heavy weight wielded unbridled power in her hand. She turned and aimed toward the door just as it opened.

Ty Bishop.

“Whoa, don’t shoot,” Ty threw up his hands. His eyes widened. “Is that thing loaded?”

She quickly dropped the gun to her side, certain her face matched Percy’s hair. “No it isn’t, and what are you doing here?”

“A better question is what are you doin’ here. I thought…”

“I changed my mind, if that’s all right with you,” she snapped. “And why are you following me?”

“I’m not. Your pa sent me to pick up a few things he ordered.” With a huff, he turned his attention to the clerk. “Are they here, Percy?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Ty. Got those nails and rope in yesterday, same time as I got the new Colt Miz Ellie is holding.”

Ellie promptly laid the gun back on the counter. “I was just curious, that’s all.” She gave Percy a stern look then walked over to the yard goods.

“But…Miz Ellie, you asked…”

Ellie didn’t want him to spill the beans. “I came to look at material for a new dress, Percy. You must have misunderstood me.”

“But-but,” he stuttered. “You asked to see a sidearm.”

She forced a giggle and ignored the confusion on the clerk’s face. Ellie fluttered her eyelashes at him and waved a limp wrist in his direction. “Oh, Percy, you silly goose, why would I say that? I said I need some yardage—just a might longer than my arm. When you showed me the new guns, I didn’t want to appear rude.”

She averted her eyes from Ty and feigned interest in a piece of flowered material. “This will do nicely.”

Ellie carried the fabric to the counter and promptly paid. Without another word, she picked up her parcel and left.

Although Ellie's Legacy is not a new release, it remains one of my favorites.  The novel won the best 2009 Historical at Love Romance Cafe under it's original title, Sparta Rose, and has been a best seller for me.  If you'd like to read more, the book is available in both print and ebook on Amazon.   Even though Tennessee is not considered part of the old west because it's on the wrong side of the Mississippi River, some of history's most colorful characters and newsworthy events happened in the south.

Meet Odessa Clay and Get to Know Her! #ArizonaSky #GingerSimpson

Michelle Lee - Cover Artist

Woo Hoo...I'm off on a camping vacation for a few months.  We're traveling cross country to Hot August Nights in Reno with several stops an sight-seeing along the way.  I'm scheduling recycled blogs, so I hope you don't mind.  The last time this was used on someone else's blog, the book had a different name and cover.  :)  Have a great summer, I know I will.

Title of book: Arizona Sky

Author: Ginger Simpson

Publisher: Books We Love

Format’s available:  http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson

eBook: Yes

Paperback: yes

Character’s name: Odessa Clay

Brief summary of story and character’s role in it.

It’s 1886.  The wagon carrying Odessa Clay and her father overturns, killing him.  Alone and frightened, somewhere in the desert, she faces finding her way to Phoenix and Aunt Susan.  Her food and water run out, and Odessa is near death when Zach Johnson finds her. On his way to becoming a reluctant outlaw, he can’t leave such a young beauty to die.  She awakens in his arms, thinking she’s already died and gone to heaven, and for him, now not only his father’s land is at stake—he faces losing his heart, too.

Odessa's Interview:

Tell us a bit about yourself. 

  Well, I suppose you could consider me an orphan, since my Ma died some time ago, and my father recently passed in the wagon accident that started my story.  Pa wanted to move me to Phoenix so I could be around a better class of people, and after a whole lotta trials and tribulations, I finally made his dream come true.

How did you get yourself into this predicament? 

Like I said, Pa wanted to move us to Phoenix to be closer to his sister, my aunt, Susan.  Ever since Ma died, I really haven't had a woman's influence in my life, and I reckon he thought I'd have a better chance at being courted by a good man.

How do you feel about Zach Johnson? 

  Oh, Lordy.  The man is truly handsome and he makes my stomach feel kinda funny, but he's so bossy.  I keep haven' to remind him he ain't my Pa.

When did things start to go wrong? 

I suppose you mean about the trip?  Well, things were going fine.  It was hotter than Hades out there in the desert, and if it had been a tad cooler, perhaps Pa wouldn't have cracked the reins to get the horses moving enough to stir a breeze.  If the wagon wheel…*pauses and wipes her eyes*…the wagon wheel hadn't struck a rut in the trail and caused the wagon to turn over, Pa never would have gotten pinned.  *She stares into her lap.*

Have the events of the story made you a stronger person?  

You bet.  I never expected to be left alone in the middle of the desert.  I had two choices: Die with Pa or try to find my way to Phoenix.  I figured I'd just follow the trail, but I didn't get very far.  Thank the Lord, Zach came along when he did.

What have you learned? 

  I've learned I can survive just about anything.  I went from being lost in the desert to watching a man die right before my eyes in a saloon.  Then I got kidnapped, saved by a couple traveling to Phoenix in a wagon, and I found my Aunt Susan.  I'd say that was a pretty decent lesson.  Wouldn't you?

Yes, I would think what you've been through is pretty amazing. Where do you see yourself in the future? 

  I'm pretty sure Zach and I have a future together.  You know, when he found me, he was on his way to join a pretty famous outlaw's gang in order to get enough money from robbing a stage coach to save his Pa's ranch.  He took the time to get me to safety, and you'll find out when you read my story, neither of us are very good at listening to advice.  He's about as bullheaded as they come, and I can be pretty darn stubborn, too.

 Thank you so much for joining us today, Ms. Clay.  Best of luck in your new life.

The lights dim, men step from behind the cameras and where silence prevailed, voices chatter.  The man who asked the questions walks away, and Odessa is left to wonder what to do now.  Zach steps from the shadows and offers his hand.  “Time to go home, Dessie.  You did a fine job.”

History of Courting

www.daniellelisle.com

Courting has undergone changes through the years.  Couples have traditionally met at barn dances, church socials,  in bars, at dances, on blind dates, and a myriad of other ways.  In some foreign countries, arranged marriages are common to this day.  A girl child is traditionally promised to a young man and is obligated  to honor her parents' word.  There may be a dowry involved to sweeten the deal.

Prior to the 20th century, one man and one woman met under the chaperoning eye of the woman's family specifically for the purpose of getting to know one another and assess suitability for marriage. The two 'daters' usually were from families of the same social status, wealth, and standing in the community.  While it may not have been ideal for either of the couple, it was the norm of the age.

google images

In the 1800s, things radically changed because of the Civil War.  With so many women widowed by the battle between the North and the South, marriage between complete strangers became a popular way to meet and wed.  Can you imagine answering an ad in a local newspaper, placed by a complete stranger who is seeking a bride? I can't, but many women did.  Thus began the popularity of the "mail-order" bride.

Women often left their families to travel sometimes hundreds of miles to wed the person who placed a want ad for a wife. They walked into unknown situations, homes that may have been much less than  they were used to and living conditions that required major adjustments,  I've always been told there has to be some sort of chemistry between two people to aid in an attraction, but I guess if you never saw the person until the day you stepped off a  stage coach or train, you found yourself settling for whatever came your way.

Of course, marriage among virtual strangers had been the norm for years among the American Indian population.  A bride payment often swayed the maiden's father to choose whichever brave offered the most for his daughter.  I wonder how many horses and blankets I would have been worth.

The coming of the railroad played an important role in courting.  In 1882, a businessman by the name of Fred Harvey searched rural areas for unwed young women, especially those of good character, with suitable looks and fair intelligence, to serve as waitresses in cafes along the Santa Fe Trail.  I believe these establishments began the term "whistlestops."  The women who responded to Mr Harvey were required to remain single for a year, live under chaperoned circumstances and respond to callers in "courting parlors."  Nearly 5,000 of these "Harvey girls" were married by the beginning of the new century.  You can bet he pocketed a good sum for providing brides for many lonely men.

www.oldtrailsmuseum.org

We've come a long way.  Now people meet on the Internet, correspond by email and chat on the phone as a means of getting to know one another.  Problems arise when dishonest folks see an opportunity to take advantage by posting fake profiles and photos to entice interest.  It would seem we've taken a step back to mail-order by not meeting face-to-face, asking questions, and truly discovering flaws and habits that may inhibit a happy relationship.  In fact, if I may step out of the western genre for a second, I wrote a book based on my sister's "luck" with Internet dating, entitled, "Betrayed."




I've touched a little on paying a bride price in Yellow Moon.