Nez Perce Culture by Paty Jager

I’ve told many that my paranormal historical trilogy, Spirit of the Mountain, Spirit of the Lake, and Spirit of the Sky were the books of my heart. I just didn’t realize how long my interest and admiration for the Wallowa Nez Perce has been inside of me. While helping clean up my dad’s house, I found paintings of Native American people that I'd painted in my early teens. These books are a re-release with new covers and refreshed writing.

My Spirit Trilogy is about a trio of Nez Perce siblings from a band that lived far north and who had blond hair and blue eyes. In my research I discovered there was such a band of Nimiipuu (the name the Nez Perce call themselves). And there were members of this band in the Wallowa band. The Creator made these siblings into spirits after their father had caused the warriors in their band to die.Their duties were to oversee the Lake Nimiipuu or the band of Nez Perce who spent their winters and summers in the NE corner of Oregon in the Wallowa country. The area where I grew up.

To write the books I did a lot of research. I devoted many hours to reading books about the Nez Perce customs and social living aspects to learn all I could about family life, pregnancy, and child birth.

The Nez Perce women had specific jobs. They gathered roots, berries and herbs as well as the firewood. It was their job to keep the fire going all night during the winter months. They were the cooks; the ones who dried and stored the meat, fish, berries, and roots. From a young age they learned to tan hides, make clothing, weave baskets, and construct the dwellings. They did everything needed to sustain a family other than hunt, prepare weapons, and fight. If need be, they could hunt for small animals, fight, and take care of weapons though it was not one of their jobs. You could say the women were more well-rounded than the men in their duties. The villages could continue to thrive when the men went on hunts that kept them away for months at a time. 

During battles, the women provided fresh horses, food, and water for the warriors, tended the wounded, warned others of danger, directed children and the old people where to hide, and how to leave when their encampments were attacked. If a husband was shot, they could pick up his gun and fight. They also cooked and gathered wood during attacks, keeping the children, old people, and warriors fed during the battles.

Pregnant women still did most of the chores right up until they started labor. Some would have miscarriages from long periods of riding horses in the last months of pregnancy—usually during campaigns of fighting.

If a woman was pregnant they believed their man would have bad luck hunting. She was also not allowed to see any part of a kill—blood, skinning. They feared her child would be born deformed. They also didn't touch, view, or ridicule any deformed animals or humans, fearing it would cause their child the same misfortune. They didn't tie knots or do things symbolic of obstructing the birth.

A wide strip of buckskin was tied around their bellies. This was believed to protect the child. After the birth, this strip was burned or buried, giving the child a healthy, strong body. They did everything to keep the baby safe. The Nez Perce wanted to build a large, strong tribe.

When a woman started labor she was isolated in a small dwelling with either an older family member or a mid-wife. If there were complications the Ti-wet (medicine man) was called in. The dwelling had a hole dug in the middle of the structure. The blood and afterbirth were put in this hole and buried. The umbilical cord was kept in a small, leather pouch attached to the cradle board. It is believed to be bad luck to destroy such an intimate part of the baby.

The cradle board was made by a relative. The baby was transported and tended in the board until ready to walk. Children were breast fed for several years. This was one of their ways to contribute to birth control. Other ways were with herbs.

I used all of this information in the three books. It was essential to me to show the culture and lives of this interesting group of people.

Blurb for Spirit of the Mountain

Evil spirits, star-crossed lovers, and duty…which will prevail?

Wren, the daughter of a Nimiipuu chief, loves the mountain and her people—the Lake Nimmipuu.  When a warrior from the enemy Blackleg tribe asks for her hand in marriage to bring peace between the tribes, she knows it is how she must fulfill her vision quest. But she is torn between duty and her breaking heart.

Himiin, as spirit of the mountain, watches over all the creatures on his mountain, including the Nimiipuu. When Wren shows no fear of him as a white wolf, he listens to her secret fears and loses his heart to the mortal maiden. Respecting her people’s beliefs, he must watch her leave the mountain with the Blackleg warrior.

When an evil spirit threatens Wren’s life, Himiin rushes to save her. But to leave the mountain means he’ll turn to smoke…

Buy Links:  Windtree Press / Kindle / Nook / Apple / Kobo  

Blurb for Spirit of the Lake

Can a spirit set upon this earth to see to the good of the Nimiipuu stay true to justice when revenge burns in his heart?

Wewukiye, the lake spirit, saves a Nimiipuu maiden from drowning and bringing shame to herself and her family. Learning her people ignored her accusations against a White man who took her body, leaving her pregnant,Wewukiye vows to help her through the birth and to prove the White man’s deceit.

Dove slowly heals her heart and her distrust as Wewukiye, the warrior with hair the color of the sun, believes in her and helps her restore her faith in her people and herself.  

On their quest for justice, Dove reveals spiritual abilities, ensnaring Wewukiye’s respect and awe. But will these abilities seal their future or tear them apart?

Buy Links: Windtree Press / Kindle / Nook / Apple

Blurb Spirit of the Sky

Can enemies not only work for peace but find love?

Sa-qan, a Nimiipuu eagle spirit, must take a human form to save her mortal niece when the Nimiipuu are forced from their land by the U.S. Army. Sa-qan strives to remain true to her spirit world and her people, but finding an ally in a Cavalry Officer has unraveled her beliefs.

During battle with the Nimiipuu, Lt. Wade Watts finds a blonde woman hiding a Nez Perce child.  He believes she is a captive when her intelligent eyes reveal she understands his language. Yet she refuses his help. Their paths cross several times during the skirmishes, and she becomes his savior when renegade warriors wound him.

Buy Links:  Kindle / Nook / Apple

These books will be out in print format in a month.

About Paty:

Award-winning author Paty Jager and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon.  On her road to publication she wrote freelance articles for two local newspapers and enjoyed her job with the County Extension service as a 4-H Program Assistant. Raising hay and cattle, riding horses, and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.

Her first book was published in 2006 by Wild Rose Press since then she has published seventeen novels, two anthologies, and five novellas. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Her penchant for research takes her on side trips that eventually turn into yet another story.

You can learn more about Paty at her blog; Writing into the Sunset  her website; http://www.patyjager.net or on Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/#!/paty.jager , Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1005334.Paty_Jager  and twitter;  @patyjag.

Sources: Nez Perce Women in Transition, 1877-1990- Caroline James

 NeeMePoo – Allen P. Slickpoo Sr. and Deward E. Walker Jr.

Write a Really Short Story by Lyn Horner

I’m a regular follower of the Western Romance Writers Please Post Here ( #2) thread on Amazon’s Meet Our Authors forum. Back in the late fall, a bunch of us on the thread agreed to publish a western romance anthology of short stories to be called Rawhide ‘n Roses.

I thought this project would be fun and probably wouldn’t take much time since our stories were to be in the 2,000 to 3,000 word range, really short. Right. The only problem was I’ve written only a couple other short stories – flash fiction actually – and they were more like parts of a bigger picture. How was I going to tell a complete story, much less a romance, in so few words? Most chapters in my novels are longer than three thousand words. What had I gotten myself into?

Well, I stewed about it for a couple weeks. (I’m good at stewing over things. It’s exhausting!) Finally, I resorted to my favorite trick for roughing out a scene: I grabbed a notebook, clipboard and pen and settled into a nice hot bath. No, I’m not kidding. The wet heat seems to open up the pathways in my brain. Or maybe it’s just that there’s nothing to distract me, a big plus since I’m easily distracted, especially now that my husband is retired and around the house most of the time. Not that I’m blaming him; it’s my own fault for being so eager to do anything but write. Know what I mean?

Anyway, when I retreated to the bathtub I had absolutely no story idea in mind, but the moment pen touched paper this guy jumped out of my head, insisting his story be told. What story, I asked? He promptly informed me he was a lawman, a marshal in a small Colorado town. Here’s part of the scene he dictated to me:

 

“Move aside,” Marshal Trace Balfour ordered, pushing through the noisy throng gathered in the street outside the Golden Slipper Saloon. Their shouts and laughter had drawn him from his office up the block. Among the crowd, he saw the local Methodist preacher, the undertaker and the owner of the mercantile across the dusty street. Several ranch hands, in town on their day off, made most of the racket.

Trace also noticed the schoolmarm, Matilda Schoenbrun. With her brown hair wound in a tight bun at her nape and wearing a drab calico gown of the same color, she brought to mind a brown jay such as he’d seen as a boy in south Texas. When she spotted him, she threw her shoulders back and narrowed her lips, looking down her bespectacled little nose, setting his teeth on edge.

“Marshal, please put a stop to this!” she demanded in a haughty voice.

“Ma’am, that’s what I aim to do.” Touching his hat to her, he shouldered aside a pair of cowboys whose laughter and catcalls almost drowned out the shrieks coming from a pair of females rolling in the dirt. Trace recognized them as saloon girls form the Golden Slipper. With red and purple skirts bunched around their knees, they fought viciously, scratching, biting and pulling each other’s hair.

He’d rather face a gang of bank robbers than deal with these snarling wildcats, he thought grimly.

How’s that for an opening scene? Does it grab you? It did me. But then what? Who was the lawman going to get romantic with, one of the feisty fillies rolling around in the dirt? I had doubts about that, and how on earth was he supposed to win the mystery woman’s heart is the space of five or six pages?

My logical plotter’s brain said no, no way. No can do. I’d need at least a hundred pages to get them cozy enough to hop in bed, wouldn’t I? My characters never engage in full blown love scenes until they’ve known each other a while. After that, well, let’s just say things get steamy. But not in 2,000 words, for gosh sakes!

Let me tell you, this short story business had me stumped. It required more stewing and several false starts before I figured out how to bring the marshal and his lady together.

Points to ponder when writing short stories:

• Settings must be bare-bones; no flowery descriptions.
• Forget deep character studies; there’s no room.
• Keep backstory to a minimum; if important, make it concise.
• Every word should move the story along; sentences are like paragraphs, paragraphs are like pages in a book.
• Actions speak louder than words. Show emotions through body language, facial expressions and dialogue. Don’t depend upon introspection; again, there’s no room.
• Save the best for last; a dramatic ending will stick in a reader’s mind.

Short stories are a whole different kettle of fish for an author who normally writes historical novels in the 100,000-word range. After this exercise I have newfound respect for short story writers.

Whew! Now let me share a more familiar subject, my Native American romance:

Dearest Irish

Set in1876, Dearest Irish stars Rose Devlin, the youngest of three psychic siblings who hide their rare talents for fear of persecution. Gifted with the ability to heal with her mind, Rose inadvertently reveals her secret to Choctaw Jack, a half-breed cowboy she finds fascinating but rather frightening.

Choctaw Jack straddles two worlds, dividing his loyalties between his mother’s people and the family of a friend who died in the Civil War. Like Rose, he keeps shocking secrets that could cost him his job, even his life. Yet, he will risk everything to save his dying mother, even if it means kidnapping Rose.

Excerpt:

Rose regained her senses slowly. Feeling herself rock to and fro, she groggily recognized the loping gait of a horse beneath her. But how could that be?

She forced her eyes open, taking in the starlit sky and the dark landscape passing by. Blinking at the sight, she realized she was seated crosswise on the horse – in a man’s lap. Just like that, the scene in her bedroom with Jack came back to her, and she knew whose chest she leaned upon and whose arm was locked around her.

Panicking, she cried out in fright. Pain lanced through her jaw, reminding her of the blow her teacher-turned-abductor had delivered just before she’d sunk into oblivion.

“Easy now,” the brute murmured. “You’re all right. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

She threw her head back to see his shadowed features. “I’m not all right, ye . . . ye kidnapper!” Cupping her painful jaw, she demanded, “Take me back this instant!”

“Can’t do that, Toppah.”

“But ye must! Tye and Lil will be looking for me.” Catching the odd word he’d spoken, she repeated it. “Toppah? What’s that?”

“It’s you. It means yellow-hair.”

“Oh. Well, don’t be calling me that again. Now turn this horse around and take me back,” she again demanded.

“Nope. We’re heading for the Nations. You might as well relax and enjoy the ride.”

“Enjoy the ride, is it? You’re daft!” She pushed at his steely arm and attempted to twist free, but, although his hold caused no pain, it was unbreakable. Feeling smothered and panicky, she shoved at his chest, managing to create a small space between them.

“Be still,” he ordered sharply. “Do you want to fall off and break your neck?”

Before she could reply, another man’s voice sounded nearby, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. Unaware of his presence until that moment, Rose uttered a frightened cry and instinctively shrank against Jack. His arm tightened around her for a moment. He said something to the other man then spoke softly to her.

“Don’t be afraid, Poe-lah-yee. That’s only Tsoia. He is my friend, my blood brother. He won’t touch you as long as he thinks you’re mine.”

“Yours! I’m not yours!” she shrilled, once more stiffening against him.

“You might not want to let him know that.”

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CK9LGA2 (Kindle and paperback)

http://tinyurl.com/l64ctss (Nook)

EVER PLAY COWBOYS AND INDIANS?

By Mary A. Adair, Guest

Thanks to the authors of Cowboy Kisses for sharing their fun blog. Thanks also to Peggy L. Henderson, who let me fill in for her today while she—lucky woman—vacations with her family in Yellowstone National Park. I love this blog and many of the authors here are among my favorites.

When you were a child, did you play cowboys and Indians as I did? However, did any of you ever want to play the Indians?  Well, I didn’t just play Indians, I now write books about them.

 

Although we’re originally Texans, my own cowboy hero is part Cherokee and we live in the Cherokee area of Southeastern Oklahoma. I’ve long been interested in history in general, and in the Cherokee specifically. Imagine my delight when I learned that an ancestor of my husband was one of the first men to document Cherokee life. James Adair wrote HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS in the eighteenth century. In addition to being an author, James Adair was a spy as an agent for England’s King George II, a doctor, and a trader. His book is interesting even though many aspects of it are controversial.

Drawing of 18th century Cherokee

For instance, Dr. Adair believed the Cherokee were the Lost Tribe of Israel due to their practice of many laws outlined in the Torah. Whew, I am certainly not about to comment on that theory! If you care to read Adair’s book, it has now been translated into modern English. One version is by Kathryn E. Holland Braund, Auburn University.

Cherokee Woman

Courtesy NY Public Library Photo Collection

No matter whether or not you agree with his political and religious views, James Adair accomplished a great deal in the service of the King. His efforts aided the English in stifling French influence among the American Indians. In addition to HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS, he wrote other books now available in reprint. He was a product of his time, of course, and that must be taken into account when reading his works.

Principal Cherokee Chief George Lowrey
Born Agin'-agi'li and known as Rising Fawn, his father came from Scotland and his mother was the daughter and granddaughter of Echota Cherokee chiefs. He is pictured above wearing his medal from U. S. Congress for aid to President George Washington.
George Catlin painting courtesy of Dover Publications DVD

Ahem, back to my original theme.  The Cherokee were firmly established in the Carolinas when gold was discovered there. You guessed it, they were asked to move. Though many remained in North Carolina or drifted to Tennessee, others moved to Northwest Georgia. A few decades later in Georgia, same story again—gold was discovered. After that followed the terrible Trail of Tears on which many Cherokee, Choctaw, Muskogee/Creek, Seminole, and and Chickasaw died.  

My own research has involved James Adair’s book and that time in history. I know this blog is more “western” in theme, but what’s more western than the American Indian? Please bear with me and allow me to tell you a bit about PASSION’S VISION and PASSION’S PRICE, the first two books in my Passion series.

Cherokee Beadwork

James Adair is the inspiration for James Fitzgerald, or Red Panther, but the rest is my imagination. New Moon is the strong woman warrior who captures James Fitzgerald’s heart in PASSION’S VISION. New Moon’s visions warn of James’ arrival in her village to become her husband. She vows to defy her vision and refuse to associate with the white man. This is a romance, so I am not giving away the story when I tell you New Moon fails in that, but succeeds in her other quests.

Their daughter resembles her father’s people and is called Golden Dawn. In PASSION’S PRICE, Dawn falls in love with Raven Cloud, who was called Little Buffalo as a child. Dawn follows Raven to London because she believes he is in mortal danger. Dawn has been taught proper English etiquette, but she dislikes being bound by those conventions. She creates a stir in Raven’s life and refuses to leave until the danger is over.

Currently, I’m working on the third book in this series, PASSION’S PROMISE, which will take Johnny Cloud, the son of Dawn and Raven, back to America to fulfill a promise to his wife.

Writing is my passion, and I am happy when I can sit at my computer and create new obstacles for my characters to overcome. I hope reading about them makes readers as happy. My books are available at

Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/238620

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Passions-Vision-Series-ebook/dp/B006QQ0LVA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372983459&sr=1-1&keywords=Passion%27s+vision

Thanks again to Cowboy Kisses authors for sharing the blog with me.

Mary Adair is an Amazon bestselling author of Native American historical romance. Follow her at Website www.maryadair.com

Blog http://authormaryadair.blogspot.com

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ma.adair.5

Twitter @MaryAdairdotcom