Sitting Bull - One of the Greats by Susan Horsnell

SITTING BULL

This month I thought we would take a look at one of the most famous Sioux Indians - Sitting Bull and one of the most famous battles in which he led his people.

Sitting Bull was born c. 1831 at Grand River, Dakota Territory. He was named Jumping Badger. His father was Jumping Bull and his mother, Her Holy Door.

When Jumping Badger was fourteen years old he accompanied a group of Lakota warriors (which included his father and his uncle - Four Horns) in a raiding party to take horses from a camp of Crow warriors. Jumping Badger displayed bravery by riding forward and counting coup on one of the surprised Crow, which was witnessed by the other mounted Lakota. Upon returning to camp his father gave a celebratory feast at which he conferred his own name upon his son. The name, Tȟatȟaŋka Iyotȟaŋka (Tatanka Iyotake), which in the Lakota language means "Buffalo Bull Sits Down", would later be abbreviated to "Sitting Bull". Thereafter, Sitting Bull's father was known as Jumping Bull. At this ceremony before the entire band, Sitting Bull's father presented his son with an eagle feather to wear in his hair, a warrior's horse, and a hardened buffalo hide shield to mark his son's passage into manhood as a Lakota warrior.

During the Dakota War of 1862, in which Sitting Bull's people were not involved, several bands of eastern Dakota people killed an estimated 300 to 800 settlers and soldiers in south-central Minnesota in response to poor treatment by the government and in an effort to drive the whites away. Despite being embroiled in the American Civil War, the United States Army retaliated in 1863 and 1864, even against bands which had not been involved in the hostilities. In 1864, two brigades of about 2200 soldiers under Brigadier General Alfred Sully attacked a village. The defenders were led by Sitting Bull, Gall and Inkpaduta. The Lakota and Dakota were driven out, but skirmishing continued into August.

In September, Sitting Bull and about 100 Hunkpapa Lakota came across a small party near what is now Marmarth, North Dakota. They had been left behind by a wagon train commanded by Captain James L. Fisk to effect some repairs to an overturned wagon. When he led an attack, Sitting Bull was shot in the left hip by a soldier. The bullet exited out through the small of his back, and the wound was not serious.

Battle of the Little Bighorn

The area in which the Battle of Little Bighorn took place.

During the period 1868–1876, Sitting Bull developed into the most important of Native American chiefs. After the Treaty of Fort Laramie (1868) and the creation of the Great Sioux Reservation, many traditional Sioux warriors, such as Red Cloud of the Oglala and Spotted Tail of the Brulé, moved to reside permanently on the reservations. They were largely dependent for subsistence on the US Indian agencies. Many other chiefs, including members of Sitting Bull's Hunkpapa band such as Gall, at times lived temporarily at the agencies. They needed the supplies at a time when white encroachment and the depletion of buffalo herds reduced their resources and challenged Native American independence.

In 1875, the Northern Cheyenne, Hunkpapa, Oglala, Sans Arc, and Minneconjou camped together for a Sun Dance, with both the Cheyenne medicine man White Bull or Ice and Sitting Bull in association. This ceremonial alliance preceded their fighting together in 1876. Sitting Bull had a major revelation.

At the climactic moment, "Sitting Bull intoned, 'The Great Spirit has given our enemies to us. We are to destroy them. We do not know who they are. They may be soldiers.' Ice too observed, 'No one then knew who the enemy were – of what tribe.'...They were soon to find out."(Utley 1992: 122–24)

Sitting Bull's refusal to adopt any dependence on the white man meant that at times he and his small band of warriors lived isolated on the Plains. When Native Americans were threatened by the United States, numerous members from various Sioux bands and other tribes, such as the North Cheyenne, came to Sitting Bull's camp. His reputation for "strong medicine" developed as he continued to evade the European Americans.

After the January 1st ultimatum of 1876, when the US Army began to track down as hostiles those Sioux and others living off the reservation, Native Americans gathered at Sitting Bull's camp. The chief took an active role in encouraging this "unity camp". He sent scouts to the reservations to recruit warriors, and told the Hunkpapa to share supplies with those Native Americans who joined them. An example of his generosity was Sitting Bull's taking care of Wooden Leg's Northern Cheyenne tribe. They had been impoverished by Captain Reynold's March 17, 1876 attack and fled to Sitting Bull's camp for safety.

The Hunkpapa chief provided resources to sustain the new recruits. Over the course of the first half of 1876, Sitting Bull's camp continually expanded, as natives joined him for safety in numbers. His leadership had attracted warriors and families, creating an extensive village estimated at more than 10,000 people. Lt. Col. Custer came across this large camp on June 25, 1876. Sitting Bull did not take a direct military role in the ensuing battle; instead he acted as a spiritual chief. A week prior to the attack, he had performed the Sun Dance, in which he fasted and sacrificed over 100 pieces of flesh from his arms.

Custer’s 7th Cavalry advance party attacked Cheyenne and Lakota tribes at their camp on the Little Big Horn River (known as the Greasy Grass River to the Lakota) on June 25, 1876. The U.S. Army did not realize how large the camp was. More than 2,000 Native American warriors had left their reservations to follow Sitting Bull. Inspired by a vision of Sitting Bull’s, in which he saw U.S. soldiers being killed as they entered the tribe’s camp, the Cheyenne and Lakota fought back. Custer's badly outnumbered troops lost ground quickly and were forced to retreat. The tribes led a counter-attack against the soldiers on a nearby ridge, ultimately annihilating them.

The Native Americans' victory celebrations were short-lived. Public shock and outrage at Custer's death and defeat, and the government's knowledge about the remaining Sioux, led them to assign thousands more soldiers to the area. Over the next year, the new American military forces pursued the Lakota, forcing many of the Native Americans to surrender. Sitting Bull refused to surrender and in May 1877 led his band across the border into the North-West Territories, Canada. He remained in exile for four years near Wood Mountain, refusing a pardon and the chance to return. When crossing the border into Canadian territory, Sitting Bull was met by the Mounties of the region. During this meeting, James Morrow Walsh, commander of the North-West Mounted Police, explained to Sitting Bull that the Lakota were now on British soil and must obey British law. Walsh emphasized that he enforced the law equally and that every person in the territory had a right to justice. Walsh became an advocate for Sitting Bull and the two became good friends for the remainder of their lives.

While in Canada, Sitting Bull also met with chief Crowfoot, who was a chief of the Blackfeet, long-time powerful enemies of the Lakota and Cheyenne. Sitting Bull wished to make peace with the Blackfeet Nation and Crowfoot. As an advocate for peace himself, Crowfoot eagerly accepted the tobacco peace offering. Sitting Bull was so impressed by the Blackfeet chief that he named one of his sons after him. Sitting Bull and his men stayed in Canada for 4 years. Due to the smaller size of the buffalo herds in Canada, Sitting Bull and his men found it difficult to find enough food to feed his people, who were starving and exhausted. Sitting Bull’s presence in the country led to increased tensions between the Canadian and the United States governments. Before Sitting Bull left Canada, he may have visited Walsh for a final time and left a ceremonial headdress as a memento.

He became a Holy man and Tribal Chief of the Hunkpapa, Lakota.

Around 5:30 a.m. on December 15, 39 police officers and four volunteers approached Sitting Bull's house. They surrounded the house, knocked and entered. Lt. Bull Head told Sitting Bull that he was under arrest and led him outside. Sitting Bull and his wife noisily stalled for time, the camp awakened and men converged at the house of their chief. As Lt. Bullhead ordered Sitting Bull to mount a horse, he said the Indian Affairs agent needed to see the chief, and then he could return to his house. When Sitting Bull refused to comply, the police used force on him. The Sioux in the village were enraged. Catch-the-Bear, a Lakota, shouldered his rifle and shot Lt. Bullhead, who reacted by firing his revolver into the chest of Sitting Bull. Another police officer, Red Tomahawk, shot Sitting Bull in the head, and the chief dropped to the ground. He died between 12 and 1 p.m.

A close-quarters fight erupted, and within minutes several men were dead. The Lakota killed six policemen immediately and two more died shortly after the fight, including Lt. Bullhead. The police killed Sitting Bull and seven of his supporters at the site, along with two horses.

Sitting Bull's body was taken to Fort Yates, where it was placed in a coffin (made by the Army carpenter) and buried.  A monument was installed to mark his burial site after his remains were reportedly taken to South Dakota.

Sitting Bull Monument

 

In 1953 Lakota family members exhumed what they believed to be the chief's remains, transporting them for reinterment near Mobridge, South Dakota, his birthplace. A monument to him was erected there.

I hope you have enjoyed reading this small snippet about Sitting Bull and I look forward to bringing you another interesting tidbit next month.

Sue

Susan Horsnell
Western Historical Romance Author
Rone Award Nominee 2014
Rone Award Nominee 2015
Finalist Laramie Awards 2015
                           
Website:             http://horsnells.wix.com/susan--1

Blog:                   http://susanhorsnell.com

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Sioux Children #historical #western #American Indians

The following three major bands comprises the Great Sioux Nation:

Lakota - (Seven bands)
Oglala
Sicangu
Hunkpapa
Miniconjous
Sihasapa
Itazipacola

Dakota or Santee - (Four Bands)
Mdeakantonwon
Wahpeton
Wahpekute
Sisseton

Nakota or Yankton - (Three Bands)
Yankton
Upper Yankton
Lower Yankton

I've long had a fascination for the Sioux, specially the Lakota, and I've enjoyed learning how ritualistic the tribes are/were. In today's post, I'm going to share some facts concerning their children.:

BIRTH:
A time of celebration and showing thankfulness to the family.  Based upon the legend of the White Buffalo Woman, once a Sioux woman gave birth, she fulfilled her role to be fruitful and multiply.  At sometime during a woman's pregnancy, usually a grandmother or the mother, created twin turtle or lizard pouches, one to hold the baby's umbilical cord and the other to serve as a decoy.  Since both animals were considered "hardy, it stood to reason that using their image would serve to protect the child.  The true pouch was hidden in the child's cradleboard until the little one grew old enough to walk, and then worn around the neck.  At a certain point possession of the pouch reverted to the mother.

Winkte

Four days after birth, everyone in the village was invited to a feast to celebrate naming of the baby.  Contrary to rumors I've heard (mainly in a joke), children were usually named after their oldest living grandparent or a deceased grandparent held in high esteem.  Additional children were usually named by the father to herald a specific deed he had accomplished or maybe a dream he'd had.  In the case of boys, they were usually two names, one which was never spoken aloud.  The "secret" name was acquired from a "winkte" which surprisingly to me, was a male Indian who dressed like and possessed all the quilling and sewing skills of a woman.  If Lesbianism existed, it was less obvious than the role the transvestite played, and being a "winkte" was considered God-Like and thusly a name offered by that person would protect the child from harm.

Modern-day babies benefit from the colostrum from their mother's breasts, but in the case of the Sioux, and old woman called, sucking woman, or a ten-year-old girl was summoned to remove the first milk for three or four days in order to prevent the infant from having diarrhea.  Instead, babies were fed berry juices and soups through a nipple fashioned from an animal bladder.

Sioux mother and child

A child's first year was mainly spent bundled in a cradleboard.  Cattail down or buffalo chips (depending upon the season) were packed in the bundle to absorb the urine.  Feces were removed, but the bundling not necessary changed each time.  The mother assumed the care of the child, often assisted by another female member of the tribe (grandmother, sister, older sibling), and if the infant as female, the old sibling assumed responsibility from the beginning.  If the child was a male, her participation was limited to feeding and watching over the baby.

Although children remained securely confined for the majority of their infant-time, from the ages of four to seven, they were naked most of the time.  By the age of seven, more modesty was required, but the children were asked, not told what to do and physical violence was never used.

Setting up Camp

As the child grew, he/she received instructions from many of the family oriented Sioux tribe and were rarely disciplined and the Sioux revered their children.  Games played by the boy children were extremely physical and geared toward preparing the child for battle, and when a boy was old enough to sit a horse, he was given his own colt and instructions on the care of the animal by his father.  Girls talents, on the other hand, were not fostered by the father-son type relationship, rather gathered  from rules of conduct demanded of female Sioux.  Cooking, washing clothing, gathering wood, berry picking and keeping the home straightened were primary tasks, but later, young women were taught the art of quilling, scraping and drying hides and learned how to construct and relocate tepees.

Women were required to show kindness to all men and animals, be loving, achieving, and eat apart from the men.   The left side of the lodge was designated as the female's side, and she was required to speak only in the female language which consisted of words not much unlike Spanish where ending letters signify gender.  (Example:  hermano/hermana = brother/sister).  Most importantly, female children were geared to behave modestly and care for themselves and their family.

Next month:  More on tribal behavior.

Facts presented here were garned from reading "the Sioux" by Royal B. Hassrick and America's Fascinating Indian Heritage by Reader's Digest.  All images were secured from bing.com

Destiny's Bride, my latest release from Books We Love, in which I show the heroine's experience at witnessing the birth of a child as directed by Rainwoman, the old medicine woman:

Here's an excerpt from

The area inside was large and spacious. Cecile stood riveted against the wall and watched with eyes wide. To see a group of women assisting in the birth made the experience impersonal…and a tad intimidating.  Maybe she hadn’t become as immodest as she thought.  Her thoughts were drawn to the expectant mother by a low moan.

Raven Wing squatted over a small trough lined with a square of deerskin and grasped a stick driven into the ground to help maintain her balance while she gave in to the bearing down pains. With each contraction, one of the women pushed on Raven Wing’s abdomen to hasten the baby’s arrival.

Cecile wondered how long the woman had been in labor. Raven Wing’s face contorted with pain yet she never yelled or cried out despite her apparent anguish.  Having never witnessed a child’s birth before, Cecile became frightened and inched toward the door.

Rain Woman noticed and waggled a winger at her. “You must stay and watch so when your time comes you know what to expect.”

“Okay, Old Mother,” Cecile relented. “I will stay.” But she thought of a thousand things she’d rather be doing.

Finally, after lots of pushing and straining, Raven Wing’s blood-covered baby slipped out into the trough. The new mother fell back onto a bed of buffalo robes, totally spent and panting for breath. Rain Woman stepped in and cut and tied the umbilical cord then cleared the baby’s nose and mouth. The newborn boy immediately cried, flailing tiny arms in the air.

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We've Come a Long Way, BABY!

Ever give thought to what our "fore sisters" went through to have children?  Both me, and my son born in 1975, probably would have died during the 1800s because of my need for an emergency c-section. Thank God for modern medicine.

 Because I write mainly historical westerns, I'm quite familiar with the history of the pioneer and Indian woman, and it was fun to research a little deeper to provide today's post.

Prior to the appearance of "physicians," which by the way was considered a male-only profession, women relied on the practical experience of other women to help bring their children into the world.  Midwives of the period relied mainly on knowledge gained from the previous birthing assistance given, and the mortality rate was high.  In fact, many women feared pregnancy, seeing it as a certain death sentence, although the numbers of live births don't support that theory. Disease and accidents claimed many young victims who did survive the process.  Men played no part in the delivery, as it was unseemly for them to witness such a private event. 

Most American Indian woman used a "women's hut" for the birthing process.  The temporary residence was frequented by women during their monthly flow as a bleeding woman was deemed possessed by spirits dangerous enough to threaten a man's power.  Prior to pregnancy, young girls spent their first menses there, being taught customary tribal tasks, however, afterwards, their joy at reaching womanhood was usually a cause for celebration.

In birthing, many a pending mother brought her babe into the world in that same hut by kneeling before a stick driven into the ground and "dropping" her child into a furrow beneath her that held a clean piece of hide for swaddling.

In comparison, the pioneer woman didn't have it much easier.  Many traveled by wagon to far destinations, seeking new homes, and many times, a train was halted so that other women could tend to the birth of a new arrival.  To say that conditions were often not sanitary is an understatement, and it wasn't until much later that any type of "pain control" was introduced into the process.

When doctors finally began practices throughout the country, many women shied away because of impropriety.  Sexuality was a very private matter, and most husbands wouldn't allow another man to view their women unclothed. 

The picture shown here was "borrowed" from a Jane Austen site, demonstrating the modesty of the time.  Boy, have things changed, or what?  Although, I can't imagine living under the guidelines governing the era and having a strange man delve beneath my skirt, at least today, it's a common practice, but skirtless.  I cringe at hearing"scoot to the end of the table and let your knees fall apart."  I always laugh at the request to "relax." Easier said than done.

Yes, indeed, things have definitely changed over the ages...with coffee, with potties, with everything, if you've read the preceding posts.  Eventually home birth gave over to hospital birth with doctors in attendance, but truly not until 1930.  Until then, women still preferred giving birth with other women at their side.  In hospital stays, the use of opiates and delivery tools were standard practice in a process that for centuries had been what we today call "natural childbirth."  The medical institutions didn't provide much safer care because of the risk of infections, opiates that halted labor and required the use of forceps with often injured or killed the child.  Still, men were not allowed to be part of the process, and spent their time in waiting rooms, being guarded from exposure to such a "harsh" event.

Over the years, the process has improved dramatically.  Fathers are now invited and encouraged to participate in the birth of their child. Some even elect to attend "childbirth classes" with their wives.  Rather than keeping the babies and mothers apart, many hospitals choose to house the newborn with the mother and encourage immediate interaction and feeding.  Now if we could just find a way for Daddy to share some of the pain, but many believe that labor is God's way of punishing us for Eve's eating of the forbidden fruit.  Dang her!

Here's a scene from one of my historical novels, Prairie Peace, which ties in nicely:

Cecile's labor intensified, and she pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle the scream rising in her throat. Another cramp wrenched through her, and she bit into her knuckles, praying that God would make the hurt go away.  Her body bore down, trying to expel the baby, as pain after pain wracked her body.

Rain Woman stood ready to receive the child.  "Push with all your might, my daughter.  Your child is almost here."

Cecile wanted to scream--needed to scream.  "Get it out, please, please get it out!  If I push any harder I'm going to turn myself inside out."

While she crouched over the earthen pit in front of the labor stake, Little Dove massaged Cecile's abdomen in an attempt to move the baby.  With each pain, she tightened her grip and strained with all her might.  The hours seemed like an eternity and the pain never ending.  "I can't go on...I'm too tired," she finally declared.

The pushing became involuntary, and groaning and grunting, she used what she thought was her last breath and thrust her baby into the world.  All discomfort was forgotten when she heard its healthy cry.

***

Prairie Peace was my debut novel and received a four-star review from Romantic Times Magazine, which back in the day was quite shocking for me.  I hope you'll be enticed to check out the story of Cecile Palmer, who in 1860 eventually becomes "Green Eyes" as she married the handsome brave who saves her from pending winter, no supplies, and a husband they both believed dead. 

Thanks for stopping by today, and here's wishing you lots of Cowboy Kisses!

Badlands of South Dakota

You haven’t truly seen “the west” until you’ve seen the Badlands.

Why do I say this? I am no expert, but to me, this area had a surreal quality about it. A weather-beaten aged beauty. Lots of dust, and those varying shades of rust, brown, gold I’d always envisioned “the west” to be. I could picture horse herds here more than anywhere else, and bands of Indians (er, Native Americans) roaming the prairie.

On a drawn-out trip out west to visit family in Montana in 2002, my husband, daughter and I decided to hit a few landmarks along the way in South Dakota, plus Yellowstone. The Corn Palace was one, since I’d run across that oddity (to us) on some type of “Don’t Miss” travel tips. Wall Drugs was another, of course, due to all the signs we’d seen. Mount Rushmore, of course—and I was stunned that we could glimpse part of the massive stone heads from the highway. That was a majestic sight. But we all loved seeing the Badlands.

And I mean big time “l-o-v-e-d” as in “we HAVE to stop here on the way home again” love.

Why? We couldn’t explain that. Sure, they have a ‘rugged beauty’ and ‘striking geologic deposits’ according to the National Park website. It’s nice to know that ‘ancient mammals such as the rhino, horse and saber-toothed cat once roamed here.’ Yes, it’s astonishing that it covers almost a quarter of a million acres, that it includes mixed-grass prairie. And that ‘bison, bighorn sheep, prairie dogs and black-footed ferrets live there today.’ Great.

I don’t know about the other animals, but we saw prairie dogs. Hundreds of ’em. I could have watched them pop in and out of their holes for hours. Cute little buggers.

First of all, a disclaimer. I live in a state known for its “leafies” – oak, maple, elm, birch, ash, pine plus plenty more, and that’s just in my neighborhood. Michigan is known for its forests and Great Lakes, plus all the small lakes in the Mitten and the UP. Green and blue are the primary colors (and I’m not talking green and white for Michigan State or blue and maize for UM). The prairie, as I first caught sight of it when we crossed from Minnesota farmland into South Dakota farmland, was fairly green, mostly brown. Wide open spaces, as the song goes, cottonwoods (I think) that usually grew near creeks or rivers. You could see rain clouds in the distance and never get wet. Very odd to us. Even the trees looked different.

So at first we didn’t notice a whole lot, driving the expressway – being from Michigan, a car ride can be pretty much "same old, same old" boring. Then we turned off to where we’d scoped out Google maps ahead of time. No trees here. Like none. Just a few scattered houses in dry, brown land. I have to say it was the middle of a hot summer, too. Anything above 85 is hot to us. It must have been 90+. And don’t tell me it’s a dry heat. Hot is hot. We drove down a two-lane country road and suddenly the world dropped off.

That’s the Badlands to me.

We stopped the car, although the road curved along the rim’s edge – maybe for a ways, we didn’t know. Or care. We all piled out. Stood on that rim, my husband and daughter closer than I ever could get to the edge. And just stared. Awestruck. The rock formations, the little gullies, the striations in the soil and the way the sunlight hit them just right, giving the browns, gold and rust hues a tinge of purple, blue, rose, even a faint gray brown. It was marvelous. No photograph can do it justice.

I can’t even describe it here all that well. But my imagination lit up, and whether or not any cowboys drove their cattle along the rim or the Indians meandered around the gullies at the bottom, I had a sense of the true magic of “the west.” Yes, the Rockies are just as magnificent. I’m sure there are other canyons that are just as wonderful. I guess it struck me so hard because this was my first visit past the Mississippi River. I’m still a greenhorn. I haven’t seen Wyoming’s Wind River range, or Colorado’s Pike's Peak, or Utah’s Green River area, or Nevada’s desert, or even Idaho and Arizona. We saw plenty of cowboy gear at Wall Drugs. Hats, boots, scarves, chaps, belts, weapons and spurs, you name it.

There was no fence along the rim. A sign here and there, maybe, warning of a sheer drop off and the danger in trying to climb down. On our drive back home from Montana, we chose a spot where we could drive through a larger area (off 240, or whatever they call the roads there) and that was even better. Again, hard to explain the scenery. We parked and walked along part of the gully bottom, saw the interesting types of “greenery” – not sure if they were grasses, or cacti, or some type of heather or what have you – and my husband and daughter climbed to a rocky hill (I’m too chicken and dislike heights) so I could take photos.

Alas, I haven’t scanned those in yet to my computer. But we sure enjoyed our visit out west. To me, the Badlands epitomize what “the wilder west” might have looked like when I thought of “the Hole in the Wall” and other remote spots for black-hat bad guys to hide.

The Badlands do not figure in my book, Double Crossing, which is set for the most part on the transcontinental railroad from Omaha, Nebraska to Sacramento, California. But it did win the 2012 Spur Award for Best First Novel! That's a great honor.

Check out the 5-star reviews on Amazon and Goodreads!

2012 Spur Award Winner for Best First Novel from

Western Writers of America

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Epitome of the Horse Indians

By John Lindermuth

George Catlin - War on the Plains

With the possible exception of the Apache, probably no people created as much fear or stirred such unified enmity as the Comanche for so long a period in the Southwest. The name Comanche is one of those derogatory identities of uncertain origin applied by enemies. They called themselves Nim’ma (The People).

They, more than any other factor, stalled the expansion of the Spanish-speaking peoples onto the plains in the 17th century and kept the armies, successively, of Spain, independent Mexico and the fledgling United States at bay until they were finally subdued in the mid-1870s, not by military force but by the systematic extermination of the bison, the vital element in their economy and lifestyle.

Despite their unrelenting hostility to the Mexicans and Texans, George Catlin, the Pennsylvania painter of Indians, and countless other travelers passed unscathed among them. Apparently, it was attitude and purpose made the difference. Catlin, who has been characterized as an accurate observer, lauded the Comanche as the epitome of the horse Indians.

The horse was central to their way of life and authorities are in agreement they are one of the few Indian peoples known with certainty to have migrated from their original territory in quest of the animal. They believed the Great Spirit created the horse especially for them and, circa 1700, the Comanche moved from north of the Platte to be closer to the horse supply. Their primary source, first by trade and later by theft, was the Mexican territories. They are known to have raided Taos, New Mexico, as early as 1716. After that, no Rancheria was safe from their depredations. Their horse raids were conducted across Texas and New Mexico and as deep as Durango in Mexico.

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Fallen From Grace (March 2011), Wild Oak
Being Someone Else (July 2010), Whiskey Creek Press
http://jrlindermuth.com