The Blemished Brides Series

By: Peggy L Henderson

About two years ago, I had a fleeting idea for a book series.  We're all used to reading about the beautiful barbie doll heroine, and the dashing, gorgeous hero in our romance novels, right? We're supposed to feel as if we ARE that heroine wooed by that dashing hero, and who wants to read about someone who isn't so perfect? Well, what if we can have physical imperfections, or even handicaps and limitations, and still be the most beautiful and desirable thing in that hunky, gorgeous hero's eye?

I finally wrote the first of, what I am calling the Blemished Brides Series, at the end of last year, and it was published this past February. That book, IN HIS EYES, was followed two months later by IN HIS TOUCH, and today, I'm proud to announce that the third in the series, IN HIS ARMS, just released today. 

This series is quite a departure from my Yellowstone and Teton novels, which are set among spectacular wilderness backdrops, packed with action, adventure, survival, and history (and of course, lots of romance as well), or my time travel westerns in the Second Chances books. The Blemished Brides are all about evoking emotions, and overcoming the challenges and prejudices for being handicapped or different. While I had thought that the books would focus mainly on the heroines and their handicaps and/or limitations, it soon became obvious that the leading men were also overcoming their own personal challenges. The hero in each book needed the heroine as much as she needed him.
I'm having a blast writing this series, and one of the challenges has been researching and finding out about different handicaps, and how people in the nineteenth century were perceived and treated when they had physical limitations. 

Excerpt from IN HIS EYES:

“Before we go, there’s something you have to know about me, Trace.”

His palm left the small of her back, and his hand guided her arm through his, as if he were her beau and taking her for a Sunday stroll.

“I already know you, Katie,” he said in a hushed tone, and led her down the steps. 

When she reached the gravel ground, her head shot up in the direction of his. She laughed scornfully. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Trace stopped. His body shifted slightly toward her.

“I know that your mother tried to mold you into someone you’re not all those years ago, and failed. I suspect that the folks at that school in New York tried to do the same thing. I’ll bet they failed, too, even though you’re pretending that you’ve conformed because you had no other choice.” He paused, and stepped closer, the heat of him seeping straight through her. Katherine held her breath.

“I know that you missed this ranch, and the horses. And, I know without a doubt that you want to run through the fields, and get into trouble, like you used to.”

Trace’s deep voice, soft and caressing against her cheek, left her speechless. Katherine continued to look up in the direction of Trace’s voice, her mouth open. He’d never paid her any attention when they were kids, how could he guess all these things about her so accurately?

“As much as I want to, I can’t do any of those things anymore,” she stammered. “I can’t be the person I was back then.”

Trace laughed. He took a step back. “Why not? Because you’re all grown up and proper now? You might act all stiff and formal around Wilma Rodgers, because it’s what you were taught, but even the best trained horse will kick up its heels when given a chance at freedom.”

Katherine shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t see to do the things I used to.”

She pulled her arm out from Trace’s. This was a mistake. As much as she wanted to go visit Goldfinder, she couldn’t go with Trace. He wouldn’t want to be burdened with a blind person.

Before she had a chance to turn back toward the house, a warm hand clamped around her upper arm and stopped her.

“I know that you can’t see, Katie. I don’t understand why that would keep you from doing the things you used to enjoy.”

Katherine stood, speechless. She shook her head. Had he even understood what she’d said?

“I’m blind, Trace.”

“So, you’ve stopped living because you’ve lost your vision?” he challenged, his voice adamant.

“I haven’t stopped living,” Katherine argued heatedly. Her voice rose in anger. “I’ve simply made a new life for myself. I’ve accepted my blindness, and I make do.”

“Make do?” Trace laughed. “I’ve seen the way that handler of yours leads you around like some dog on a leash. Is that what you call living?”

Katherine wheeled to face him. Her hand shot to her hip, and she leaned forward. She narrowed her eyes like a sighted person would do when riled, what she used to do as a child, and focused them on the shadow in front of her.

“Wilma has been my guardian and teacher since the day I arrived in New York. She taught me how to manage without my eyes, and she’s always had my best interest in mind.”

“That may very well be, Katie,” Trace replied calmly. “But I also think she’s holding you back. Maybe not intentionally, but holding you back, nevertheless.”

“How can you make such assumptions? You don’t even know her. And you certainly don’t know me.”

Peggy L Henderson

Western Historical and Time Travel Romance

“Where Adventure Awaits and Love is Timeless”

Author of:

Yellowstone Romance Series

Teton Romance Trilogy

Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series

Blemished Brides Western Historical Romance Series

               

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Buena Vista, CO

When I began drafting Bring Me Luck, I wrestled with the decision of where to set the story. My original thought had been Idaho, but in further thinking, the territory was too far away from the origins of the series and wasn’t a solid basis for the plot I had formulated. I needed my secondary characters and heroine to be closer to her family’s home, but far enough away where they couldn’t be found easily. I began narrowing my search to smaller Colorado towns. Gunnison and Montrose were favorites. I’ve been to both, but much wasn’t written on either for the timeframe of the story, other than the different Tribes belonging to the area. I narrowed the search even more and settled upon Buena Vista. By my calculations, Buena Vista was about a week’s ride on horseback from fictional Coyote and a perfect fit for the plot. 

Buena Vista courtesy of .buenavistacolorado.org

Buena Vista borders the Arkansas River. The foothills and the Continental Divide are directly to the west. Leadville is north and Salida is south. Founded in 1864 after the discovery of gold outside Denver, Buena Vista originally held the name of Cottonwood. Later, it was changed to Mahonville after the Mahon family (this is the name I use in Bring Me Luck) and finally, local woman of German heritage Alsina Dearheimer named the town Buena Vista, Spanish for Beautiful View. 

James Mahon home courtesty of Chaffee County Times

Four brothers of the McMahon family settled in Leadville and worked in the mines. Two of them eventually moved on and James and Hugh came to Buena Vista to ranch and farm. James filed for homestead rights on Cottonwood Creek land and changed his name to Mahon because of immigration requirements. Hugh settled on land near the river and also changed his name to Mahon. The brothers had a stage stop and a post office on their land. They also donated land to the town, helped build a Catholic church and the first school; hence the reasons the town was once named after them.   

   

Buena Vista was incorporated as a town in 1879. A vote was taken in 1880 to have the county seat moved from Granite, Colorado to Buena Vista. Buena Vista won the vote, but Granite didn’t welcome the move and went so far as to not release the county records. A few men from Buena Vista confiscated a railroad car and went to Granite. They broke into the Courthouse, stole all of the county records and nearly demolished the place. Hearing the commotion and going to investigate, sheriff John Mear and his wife were held at gunpoint during the thievery. The men took the documents back to Buena Vista, where they were kept in businesses safes and the stable until a courthouse could be built. The day after the theft Granite officials had to travel to Buena Vista to conduct business.    

  

Courthouse courtesy of buenavistacolorado.org

Building for a courthouse and jail in Buena Vista began in June of 1882. The dedication was held in May 1883. Between the years 1880 – 1885, three railroads went through town; the Denver, South Park and Pacific, the Denver & Rio Grande and then the Midland. Electricity arrived in 1888 and the telephone in 1893. A correctional facility was built in 1889 and remains in use today, providing many jobs to the community. Buena Vista is also a big farming community and was once known as the head lettuce capital of the United States. The lettuce industry boomed for several decades, with farmers earning up to $500 per acre. Ice from Ice Lake made shipping via boxcars easy, but in 1948, the refrigerator car gave west coast rivals the same ease to ship as the ice from Ice Lake gave Buena Vista’s farmers.

Aerial view of Buena Vista courtesy of http://fairtradecampaigns.org

Today, residents and visitors enjoy white-water rafting on the Arkansas, fly fishing, and four-wheeling, not to mention the breathtaking views of the Continental Divide’s several 14,000ft. peaks. 

Bring Me Luck is available here for purchase: 

www.amazon.com/dp/B00OP5PT2U

Wheat Harvest

By Shanna Hatfield

Wheat harvest came a few weeks early in our part of the country this year. Most farmers are just finishing up, if they aren't already done with the harvest.

In my Pendleton Petticoats series is set in Pendleton, Oregon, in the early 1900s, several of the stories include scenes of wheat harvest.

Back in the early years of the twentieth century, Umatilla County (where Pendleton is located) produced approximately one percent of the nation’s wheat crop. Wheat harvest brought workers to town, provided income for families, and was quite an event.

It was also a lot of hot, sweaty, backbreaking work. Growing up on a farm, I write from experience about the dusty, itchy chaff that makes the air thick and hard to breathe.

When I was working on Ilsa’s story, one scene in particular finds her out in the field where one of the characters gives her a first-hand look at a combined thresher harvester.

I looked online for some visual inspiration and found a few photos that were exactly what I was searching for.

This photo was taken in 1903 in Sherman County, Oregon. (If you’ve read the Grass Valley series, it is set in Sherman County.)
Although I had a general idea of what each piece of equipment on the machine did, I had no idea how to describe it.

 

This was another photo that provided a great visual of exactly how I pictured wheat harvest at Nash’s Folly, the main ranch in the Pendleton Petticoats series. Taken in 1902 in Walla Walla, WA, this photo shows not only the machine, but also the deep dip in the hill as well.

This photo, also from the oldoregonphotos.com website, shows the team of 32 pulling a hillside harvester in 1900. Because of the rolling hills, the farmers needed a machine that wouldn’t tip over on the steep inclines.

 

And here’s a crew in the early 1900s sitting with bags of golden kernels  near Arlington, OR. The woman on the end doesn’t look particularly excited to be there- but if I had to cook for a threshing crew in the unbearable summer heat dressed in layers of petticoats and long sleeves, I’d probably look really, really grumpy.

 

I also found this awesome photo that shows walls created with 100,000 sacks of wheat near Pendleton. Mission is on the Umatilla Reservation.

After gathering the historic photos and studying them, I still had no idea how to describe the equipment, so I contacted my dad and asked his sage advice. After emailing him a couple of the photos, he called me and told me what all the parts and pieces were as well as giving me the names of the different jobs each men did.

The jigger sewed the sacks shut once they were filled. The tender made sure the cutter was going where it was supposed to while the skinner drove the team. I had no idea!

My dad, who comes from a long line of farmers, also spent several years after he and my mother first wed working in Pendleton in the early 1950s. He had first-hand experience with the terrain, the hillside harvesters, and even told me why so many of the farmers preferred mules to horses (because the mules could go all day without a problem and the horses often got sores or sick.)

 

This is a photo of my Dad and his friend, who he’s only ever referred to as Shorty. (Don’t you love the farmer’s tan!). My dad’s about 5’11”, so Shorty was indeed of small stature. But Dad always talks about him with fond and funny memories.
***

Here's a little excerpt from Ilsa:
***

“Oh, Ilsa,” Aundy said, trying hard not to smile as she carefully put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and turned her toward the house, knocking eggshells out of her hair as they walked. Garrett winked at his wife and a giggle escaped. Soon everyone was laughing.

Ilsa glared at Aundy then marched herself around the house to the kitchen door.

Mad at her sister for laughing and the rest of them for joining in, Ilsa stamped her foot and dislodged a flurry of eggshells on Aundy’s clean floor. As she yanked her apron over her head, more broken shells and slimy yolks dislodged themselves from her head.

When the back door slapped shut behind her, she let her temper have free rein.

“How could you? It’s bad enough I made a fool of myself, but you set off all the laughter. It’s just mean.”

The sound of a muffled laugh made her even angrier. Trying to reach behind her back to undo the buttons of her dress, she needed to take a bath and have a fresh start to this awful day. It wasn’t even yet six in the morning.

“Don’t stand there like a hysterical ninny. Help me get out of this,” she ordered, resisting the urge to stamp her foot again. She felt fingers working at the buttons of her dress but the musky, masculine scent that reached her nose made her fully aware Aundy didn’t stand behind her.

Spinning around, she looked into the smirking face of Tony Campanelli.

A hopeless romantic with a bit of sarcasm thrown in for good measure, Shanna Hatfield is a bestselling author of sweet romantic fiction written with a healthy dose of humor. In addition to blogging and eating too much chocolate, she is completely smitten with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller.

Shanna creates character-driven romances with realistic heroes and heroines. Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

She is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, and Romance Writers of America.

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