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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Western Historical Romance Short Story Release

By Kristy McCaffrey

I’m pleased to share the release of my short story Canyon Crossing for only 99 cents.

The idea for the story came from a hike I took in the Grand Canyon a few years ago with my husband and my dad. Grandview Trail, from the South Rim, is an access route from the rim to the Colorado River that’s been in use since 1890 when miner Pete Berry began working the Last Chance Mine. Before that, Hopi Indians gathered mineral paints in the area (Horseshoe Mesa) long before Berry arrived, creating early pathways.

The view from Grandview Trail.

We embarked on a sunny and somewhat chilly March morning. Day hikes in Grand Canyon don’t require a permit so we planned to trek as far as we could and turn around before the sun set.

Me on one of the more precarious sections of the trail.

Grandview Trail isn’t a beginner’s trail, with the uppermost sections consisting of steep, grueling switchbacks and long stretches that were covered with ice and snow, making it very dangerous. One slip could’ve led to a tumble over the side. And it was a long way down. But my dad made sure we were well prepared with micro-spikes for our hiking boots. However, I regrettably left my walking poles in the car and they were missed.

Part of the trail consisted of rock.

We spent the next three hours dropping 2500 feet in elevation. The scenery was breathtaking. We made it as far as Horseshoe Mesa, a total of 3.2 miles. Several old copper mines were located in the area and the paths were fairly well-marked, along with signs warning of radiation. From my research I learned that excessive amounts of radon are present, so no spelunking inside the dark corridors. We hoped to continue out onto the Mesa and enjoy a view of the Colorado River, but we’d reached our designated turnaround time.

My husband, myself and my dad at the end of the hike.

In search of her brother, Annabel Cross enters Grand Canyon with a guide and a mule. When circumstances have her hanging from a cliff side, her rescue at the hands of U.S. Deputy Marshal Angus Docherty is fortuitous in more ways than one. He’s chasing the notorious Red Bandit, and it soon becomes clear that Annabel’s brother is mixed up with the criminal as well. While the marshal believes she may be in on a double-cross, she has a more pressing secret to hide. She can talk to deceased spirits, and she wonders whether to tell Angus about the old Apache ever near to him.

(This story previously appeared in the LASSOING A GROOM anthology.)

Only 99 cents

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