Ogallala Bay Rum

by Shanna Hatfield

 
From 1870-1885 Ogallala, Nebraska, was the destination of countless cowboys driving cattle north from Texas to the railhead located in the small town.

As early as the 1830s and 1840s, Texans had driven cattle to potential markets in the east and north. After the Civil War ended, the arrival of railroads across the plains and a surplus of cattle combined to create an interesting business enterprise.

Texan cattlemen drove their rangy, sometimes hard too handle stock to the railhead in long trail drives that soon became the stuff of legend.

The first cowboys to drive cattle along the trail were known to be a wild, reckless bunch with homemade saddles and clothing.

 As the cattle business grew, cowboys took more pride in their appearance. By the early 1880s, many cowboys would spend a significant portion of his pay on his clothing, starting with custom boots and sliver spurs and ended with a  Stetson hat on his head.

Yet, out on the trail, the cowboys worked long, hard, monotonous hours. There wasn't any shortage of ways for them to die: exposure to the elements, dragged to death by a rogue animal, struck by lightening, killed by Indians, or drowning in a river.

Those who survived the journey were eager to reach the railhead in Ogallala.

Part of the year, life in Ogallala was reportedly “a dull, dreary existence in a drab, unpainted, and unpromising little village.” However, during the months when the trail herders arrived in town and local ranchers rounded up cattle, saloons burst with gamblers and soiled doves.

Filthy after months on the trail, one of the first stops for the cowboys was a barbershop for a bath, shave and haircut. After being splashed (often quite liberally) with the barber's own special mix of Bay Rum, the cowboy was ready to hit the saloon and charm the ladies.

I've often wondered about Ogallala Bay Rum - what it smelled like.  One day, I happened to see an advertisement in a catalog promoting "Genuine Ogallala Bay Rum." It took me all of five seconds to decide to order a bottle.

Made by the Genuine Ogallala Bay Rum Toiletry Co., right in Ogallala, Neb., the family-run business recreates the scent that was so popular with those cowboys. They offer soap, after shave and cologne.

Excited when my cobalt blue bottle of cologne arrived, I opened the top and inhaled the scent of clove, sage and mint. While it isn't a scent Captain Cavedweller would wear, I could see why the girls back in the legendary days of trail drives welcomed those cowboys after they paid the barber a visit.

~*~

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes character-driven romances with relatable 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.”

      Convinced everyone deserves a happy ending, this hopeless romantic is out to make it happen, one story at a time. When she isn’t writing or indulging in chocolate (dark and decadent, please), Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller.

Find Shanna’s books at:

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Arizona Territory Army Posts

By Kristy McCaffrey

In the late 1800’s, the unrelenting migration of miners, ranchers, and settlers into the Arizona Territory produced the inevitable clash with Native Americans. It was Army posts—simple structures consisting of a few buildings, made of whatever material was handy—that held the fragile territory together.

Fort Apache, 1877.

Fort Apache in eastern Arizona was a key post in the Army campaign to round up Native Americans in the mid- to late 1800’s. Established in 1870 as Camp Ord, it was designated Camp Apache the following year as a token of friendship with the very people the military was battling. In 1879 it became Fort Apache. The fort protected the White Mountain Agency, fighting bands led by warriors such as Geronimo and Chato. On September 1, 1881, members of the White Mountain tribe attacked Fort Apache as payback for the Battle of Cibecue Creek in which a medicine man named Nochaydelklinne was killed. The two incidents helped reignite violence that lasted until Geronimo surrendered in 1886.

Remains of Camp Rucker.

Camp Rucker, first known as Camp Supply, was named in honor of Lt. John Anthony Rucker, who died trying to save a fellow officer from a rain-swollen stream. On July 21, 1880, six mules were stolen from the camp’s stables. They were later located at the ranch of Frank and Tom McLaury after a search by Lt. J.H. Hurst and U.S. Deputy Marshal Virgil Earp. (A year later, Earp and the McLaury’s would fight it out at the O.K. Corral in Tombstone.)

In central Arizona, Fort Verde was established in 1865 to protect settlements along the Verde River. This fort served as the primary base for Gen. George Crook’s U.S. Army soldiers and scouts who were tasked with capturing Apache and Yavapai people and placing them on reservations. Fort Verde State Historic Park is Arizona’s best-preserved example of a fort from the Indian wars. Three buildings remain today—the living quarters for the commanding officer, the doctor’s quarters and quarters for bachelor officers.

Fort Verde, 1887.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints also established forts in Arizona. In 1874, Mormon President Brigham Young ordered the building of a fort at Lees Ferry in northern Arizona, the only crossing of the Colorado River for 500 miles. And in 1870, construction was begun on a fort atop Pipe Springs, a naturally occurring gush of water on the vast prairie of the Arizona Strip, an area located north of the Colorado River. A telegraph was installed in 1871, connecting Utah outposts to the transcontinental line that passed through Salt Lake City, and was the first telegraph in Arizona.

Historic photo of a ferry at Lees Ferry.

Pipe Spring Fort.

* * * *

Kristy McCaffrey has been writing since she was very young, but it wasn’t until she was a stay-at-home mom that she considered becoming published. She’s the author of several historical western romances, all set in the American southwest. She lives in the Arizona desert with her husband, two chocolate labs, and whichever of their four teenage children happen to be in residence.

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Survivors’ Malaise by Deborah Camp

A documentary I watched about the Civil War mentioned that soldiers arrived home physically and mentally scarred. That made me wonder how those soldiers were treated for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Only in the past 20 years has PTSD been fully acknowledged and various treatments have been used with measured success.

From what I gathered, doctors acknowledged that some of the soldiers couldn’t handle the rigors of war. They referred to the condition as “soldier fever,” “survivor malaise.” or “home fever.” Of course, we now know it went much deeper than “homesickness.” But that’s how it was initially treated, which means that, for the most part, it was ignored.

Symptoms of PTSD are noted in survivors of historic wars and private battles. Think of the women who became mentally unbalanced when left alone on the prairie to fend for themselves and children while their men went hunting or fur trading. Armed with a rifle and an ax, they were scared out of their wits as they waited to be preyed on by everything from bears to immoral men and Indian raids. Those women were walking nervous breakdowns, living on the knife’s edge.

PTSD was a big problem after the Civil War, evidenced by the erection of large mental institutions. Obviously, no one knew what to do with the men and women who had not recovered and were dangers to themselves and others. So, they were warehoused. When in doubt, put them behind walls.

Today PTSD sufferers have psychiatrists, psychologists, and pharmacies to help them with their nightmares, psychotic episodes, visions, nervousness, and other fallout from war and extreme trauma. The Civil War survivors weren’t so fortunate. They had to find their own way through the hellholes while their families and friends looked on helplessly.

In my novel, Solitary Horseman, I delve into the subject. The hero, Callum Latimer, served gallantly in the Civil War for the South, but he feels like he’s been hallowed out and he finds little to appreciate in his life after the war. My heroine’s brother, Hollis, returned from the war a broken man. A gentle soul, Hollis did his duty as a soldier, but the price he paid was steep. He is tortured with horrific memories and bone-rattling nightmares. Some people should never be thrown into battle and Hollis was one of them.

Controversial subjects interest me and I include them in almost all of my romances. One of my books, My Wild Rose, received the first Janet Dailey Award for a book that best addressed a social issue. That novel featured Carrie Nation as one of the characters. Carrie opened the first home in the U.S. for battered wives and children of alcoholics.

As we have been told, what is not learned from history is bound to be repeated. So, I am compelled to shed light on problems so that we can see how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go.

Purchase Solitary Horseman here:

https://www.amazon.com/Solitary-Horseman-Deborah-Camp-ebook/dp/B01HFCC2UQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1471716623&sr=1-1&keywords=solitary+horseman+by+deborah+camp

You can get a complete list of Deborah’s novels on her website. www.deborah-camp.com

The Mountain Man Rendezvous

The Mountain Man Rendezvous

By: Peggy L Henderson

 

Mountain men and fur trappers blazed trails in the American West long before the wagon trains and settlers crossed the continent. Lewis and Clark traded furs and good with the Native Americans during their explorations in 1804-1805, and more and more adventurers braved the wild mountains west of the Missouri to find their fortune in animal furs.

The mountain man's life was dictated by the seasons and the climate. Most trapping occurred in fall and spring, when animal pelts were at their finest. When the season started, and how long it would go, was ruled by the weather. Spring furs were most desirable because the pelts were still thick from winter.  When the quality of the pelts declined, the season was over.

In order to trade in their furs and buy needed supplies for the fall trapping season, the mountain men had to make the long journey back to civilization, or to various remote trading posts. The typical fur trapper would haul his pelts all the way back to St. Louis, Missouri. There they would be traded for supplies for the coming trapping season

In 1822, two men from Missouri – businessmen, not trappers – advertised for “enterprising young men to ascend the river Missouri…” to trap for beaver. William Ashley and Andrew Henry formed the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, and employed trappers to work for them.

In order to supply their men and keep them in the mountains year-round, they brought teamster-driven supply trains to the trappers starting in the summer of 1825. After rendezvous, the fur-loaded pack trains headed back to Missouri. 

Having a few hundred men in the mountains who did nothing but kill beaver assured Ashley and Henry a steady supply of furs to sell. At the same time the trappers, because they didn’t have to make the long trip in from the mountains, were willing to pay high prices for the supplies the company delivered. So Ashley and Henry made money on both ends of the deal.

Each year, the location of the meeting places, or rendezvous, was different.

What started as a practical gathering to exchange pelts for supplies and reorganize the company’s trappers into units who strategized where to trap, evolved into a month long carnival in the middle of the wilderness.

The rendezvous brought not only the trappers who worked for the fur companies, but also free trappers, women and children, Indians, French Canadians, and travelers. Besides the trading, there was a lot of socializing to do. Traders, trappers, and their Indian customers, friends, and families, ate, drank, gambled, staged horse and foot races, quarreled, fought, and made love.

Mountain man James Beckworth described the festivities as a scene of "mirth, songs, dancing, shouting, trading, running, jumping, singing, racing, target-shooting, yarns, frolic, with all sorts of extravagances that white men or Indians could invent."

An easterner gave his view: "mountain companies are all assembled on this season and make as crazy a set of men I ever saw." There were horse races, running races, target shooting and gambling. Whiskey drinking accompanied all of them.

Rendezvous was over when the trappers had spent their year’s earnings on high-priced whiskey, clothing, and supplies needed to last another year in the mountains.

1840 was the last year that Rendezvous was held. Beaver had declined in number, and felt hats replaced beaver hats in popularity. The trappers found other ways to make a living — hunting buffalo for example — or guiding wagon trains.

Short excerpt from Yellowstone Homecoming

Laughter, loud voices, and gunshots reached them long before dozens of tents, lean-to’s and tipis came into view. Hundreds of trappers, Indians, and even several wagons with traders of all sorts of goods milled about the large open area. Matthew kept a look-out for his comrades. Men he hadn’t seen in years called out a greeting, others stared at him and Addy with interest.

“Stay close,” he said when he caught the look of astonishment on Addy’s face as they passed men who wrestled each other to the ground, knives drawn.

“Isn’t anyone going to stop them from killing each other?” she whispered.

“Most everyone here is drunk. I doubt anyone’s going to die. This is what goes on at these gatherings. Men drink, carouse, and trade their furs. No one would think to break up one of these fights.”

“Barbarians,” Addy hissed. She shot him a disapproving frown when he chuckled at her comment.

“Osborne! Matthew Osborne.”

Matthew’s head turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Jim Bridger rushed around a group of men inspecting a cache of furs. Matthew dismounted his horse, and held out his hand in greeting. The trapper shook it. He cocked his head to the side and looked at him suspiciously.

“It’s Matthew, ain’t it?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Matthew laughed. “Yeah, Bridger, it’s Matthew.”

“I’ll be,” the woodsman said with a loud laugh, and slapped his hand against his thigh. “We thought you was dead.”

“No, just took me a little longer to get here.” He turned to look at Addy, who still sat on her horse.  “I brought Miss Witmer back. Where are my brother and her father?”

Bridger’s eyes widened in surprise. “Zach done told us ya was kilt by them Pawnee. He rode through here about a week ago. Said he was headin’ home to break the news to yer folks.” He glanced toward Addy. “Had us a skirmish with them bloodthirsty Injuns ourselves. Couple of the missionaries got kilt, and a few got hurt, but the rest of us kept our scalps.”

Addy gasped at Jim Bridger’s words.

“Not your father,” Bridger said quickly. He pointed toward the west of the large encampment. “He’s camped yonder with his wagons, past them tipis.”

Matthew mounted his horse. “Thanks for getting them here safe.” He nodded to Bridger.

“Come back and visit with Fitzpatrick an’ me fer a spell when you’re done with Witmer,” Bridger called.

“I will, but I’ll be heading out soon. I need to get home and let my folks know that I’m not dead.”

Bridger laughed. “Good idea. Ain’t every day a man comes back from gettin’ kilt.”

Peggy L Henderson

Western Historical and Time Travel Romance

“Where Adventure Awaits and Love is Timeless”

Award-Winning Author of:

Yellowstone Romance Series

Teton Romance Trilogy

Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series

Blemished Brides Western Historical Romance Series

               

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