Tuesday, August 14, 2018

A Military Trial in the Old West...Fiction of course


Military Trials in the 1880’s

 

As I am finishing up the final chapters of my third novel in The McCades of Cheyenne Series, Dawson’s Haven, I had to begin researching what a military trial would encompass in the late 1800’s. It seems my hero, Dawson McCade, and his side-kick, Indian friend, Leaning Bear have been wrongly accused of crimes they have not committed and are potentially facing a huge trial with the end for them a firing squad if they cannot prove their innocence. As I have panstered through what will happen, I realized that I needed to take a look at how a military trial would have taken place in that day and time. So in my research I found the following:

Image result for military trial courtroom 1800s

 

Any form of military trial involved a potential Court-Martial and ranged from very mild fines all the way to the death penalty of hanging or firing squad in the 1800s. A court-martial was a criminal trial for members of the military who were accused of committing certain crimes such as larceny, arson, manslaughter or conspiracy just as in civilian trials. Others, such as desertion, mutiny, and insubordination, were specifically tied to military service as they are today.

                                                                 
Various Court-Martials within the Military of the late 1800’s were summarized by the following:

Summary Courts-Martial: A quick procedure for enlisted members accused of minor offenses. These did not require a military judge or attorneys. It involved one commissioned officer who reviewed the facts and sentencing guidelines before making a final decision. Sentencing of a guilty verdict might have involved a 30 day confinement, 45 days of hard labor, restriction to a particular area for 60 days, one month of reduced pay, or reduction in rank to name a few.

 

Special Courts-Martial: was reserved for more severe offenses. A military judge would have presided over special courts-martial; a defense attorney would have been assigned to the accused and a trial attorney would have been assigned to the prosecution. A three service member panel decides the facts of the case unless the accused specifically requests a judge to do so. The maximum penalties that can be assigned in a special court martial include one year of confinement, six months pay forfeiture, three months hard labor, or a bad-conduct discharge.

 

General Courts-Martial: how most severe offenses were prosecuted. Like special courts-martial, they featured a military judge as well as legal representation for both parties. A panel of at least 5 members for non-capital offenses and at least 10 members for capital offenses decided the facts unless the accused requests a judge to do so and the death penalty was not being sought. The military judge presiding over the general court-martial could impose the maximum sentences allowed, including death, life imprisonment, or dishonorable discharge.

Image result for courtroom anvil

Initiating Charges

When a service member had violated some law or committed a crime, the subject would be detained for up to 72 hours while it was decided how to proceed. The service member could appeal the decision if he believed that the punishment was unjust. However, if it was decided to proceed with a court-martial, there were120 days to act. The convening authority might have been the President, the Secretary of Defense, or the Secretary of the military branch to which the accused belongs.

 

The court-martial process would have begun with the accused being read the charges against him in the presence of a commanding officer and a neutral third officer. A military judge and legal representation for both sides would have been assigned. The accused and the prosecution would have had the opportunity to investigate the facts behind the case, including reviewing documents and conducting depositions.

 

Pleas:

After charges were preferred, the accused would enter a plea. A guilty plea would only be accepted if the military judge was satisfied that the accused fully understood the charges against him and the consequences; and the prosecution would not be seeking the death penalty. Once the guilty plea was accepted, the accused would have been sentenced.

 

Trial:

If the accused entered a not-guilty plea and the court-martial went to trial, a panel would have been chosen to decide the facts. Members of the panel were commissioned officers from a different unit and of a higher rank than the accused. The accused was allowed to request enlisted service members join the panel if desired. Oaths were then dispersed. Each side presented their evidence and cross-examined witnesses. The military judge would have instructed the panel on the applicable laws in relating a verdict. If the accused is found guilty, either the panel or the military judge will sentence the accused according to the sentencing guidelines.

Image result for civil war courtroom

The rights for the accused:

  1. The right to be informed of the charges.
  2. The right to remain silent, as in the accused could not be forced to incriminate themselves.  
  3. The right to defense counsel and protection against double jeopardy. A service member could have been court-martialed and tried in a civilian court for the same action.
     
    The accused could appeal the outcome of a court-martial to the military court of appeals if the accused believed that the military judge made an error of laws. In cases where the accused is sentenced to the death penalty, the court-martial is automatically appealed but the final court decision held.
    Image result for weight and balance court

Friday, August 10, 2018

Wild Women Photographers of the West


By Jacqui Nelson

I'm excited to become part of the Cowboy Kisses crew and share my first Cowboy Kisses blog with you. One first often goes nicely with another. So today I'm sharing part of the inspiration for the first story I published—lady photographers.

Who were the women who not only recorded history but made history by taking pictures of the famous and the soon-to-be-famous, including themselves? 

Self-taught or with the direct help of inventors like George Eastman (creator of the Eastman Kodak camera) these women all had two things in common—they took chances and lots of photos.

Gertrude Stanton Käsebier 

(born 1852 in Des Moines, Iowa) 

In 1895, with her husband ill and her finances strained, Gertrude decided to be a professional photographer. Two years later as the assistant to a Brooklyn portrait photographer, she exhibited 150 photographs.

In 1898, after watching Buffalo Bill’s Wild West troupe parade past her Fifth Avenue studio to Madison Square Garden, she asked to photograph the Sioux traveling with the show. Out of respect for the Native American culture, her images were never used in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West program booklets or promotional posters.

Belle Johnson 

(born 1864 in Mendota, Illinois) 

In 1890 while spending the summer with her sister in Missouri, Belle answered a newspaper ad for a photography assistant.

After three weeks on the job, she bought the studio, with the understanding that the previous owner would stay for a year to teach her the trade. He stayed six months and provided little instruction.

Described as "eccentric, independent and unorthodox," Belle learned primarily from photography magazines.

Evelyn Flower Cameron 

(born 1868 near Streatham, England)

In 1891, Evelyn immigrated with her husband and brother, Alec, to Montana. While raising cattle and polo ponies, she learned photography from boarders at her ranch house. She photographed wildlife, weddings, and families like her cowgirl neighbors May, Myrtle, and Mabel Buckley.

The beautiful and talented Buckley sisters gained international fame after Evelyn submitted their photos and an article to the English publication Country Life. The Buckleys were begged to join Wild West shows but they chose to keep working as cowgirls on their ranch.

Frances Benjamin Johnston 

(born 1864 in Grafton, West Virginia)

Frances' first camera was given to her by George Eastman, a close friend of her family and the inventor of the new and lighter Eastman Kodak camera. She received training in photography and darkroom techniques from Thomas Smillie, director of photography at the Smithsonian.

She took portraits of Susan B. Anthony, Mark Twain, President Roosevelt and his family, and Booker T. Washington but was most famous for her 1896 “New Woman” self-portrait with a beer stein in her hand and her petticoats showing.

Adella Willows 

(born to create havoc, one photograph at a time, during a railroad race in my novella, Adella's Enemy

Who is Adella? 

During the War Between the States Adella was a spy, but in 1870 she's a photographer hired by a senator to sabotage the construction of a rival's railroad. She's also a devoted sister willing to take every chance to fulfill her own mission. Then she meets the railroad's foreman, Cormac McGrady, an Irishman who creates his own havoc—in Adella's heart.

An Excerpt from Adella's Enemy...

Cormac closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. “Do you even know how to operate that camera or is that a sham as well?”

“Of course I know how,” Adella said, forcing outrage into her voice. “I’m a photographer sent by the Atlanta Intelligencer.”

Cormac snorted. “If that were true, you’d be with the farm widows instead of hiding inside Stevens' private railcar. There’s only one reason for being in here—you’re a spy for the Joy Line.” He grasped her elbow, making her skin tingle as he pushed her in front of him toward the door. He tucked her behind him, though, when he stuck his head outside.

Pressed against the warm strength of his back, she tried to block out the anger vibrating in him. But the women's singing reminded her that her next move would probably make him even angrier.

He pulled her down the stairs toward the women. “I wondered why you’d come to New Chicago. I could never have guessed this.”

“Then be prepared for even greater disappointments.” She dug her heels into the dirt. “What if I refuse to act out this useless charade of taking a picture that will—how did you put it?—never see the light of day?”

Swinging around, Cormac towered over her. “Adella, if you don’t cooperate, I can’t protect those women or you.”

A peculiar ache invaded her heart. What would it feel like to share her burdens with someone like Cormac instead of shouldering them alone? She wouldn’t be sharing; she’d be giving up. Her brother deserved more than that.

She yearned to wrap her arms around Cormac and pull him even closer. So she drew back instead. “By all means save the widows. But I don’t need help.”

CLICK HERE to read another excerpt from Adella's Enemy & more on my website

~ * ~

CLICK HERE to read more Cowboy Kisses Wild Women blog posts *

Read about my stories on my Cowboy Kisses author page or my website JacquiNelson.com

Hope you'll join me on… 
Or follow me on… 

Don't forget to download my FREE story with my Newsletter

Fall in love with a new Old West...
where the men are steadfast & the women are adventurous.

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Wheat Harvest

by Shanna Hatfield

As I watched the golden waves of wheat down the road from us cut down during the harvest recently, it made me think about how much equipment and processes have evolved and improved over the years.

Back in the early 1900s, Umatilla County (where my Pendleton Petticoats series is set) produced approximately one percent of the nation’s wheat crop. Wheat harvest brought workers to town, provided income for families, and proved to be an event many looked forward to all year. It was also a lot of hot, sweaty, backbreaking work. From my childhood spent on a farm, I can declare from firsthand experience the dusty, itchy chaff makes the air thick and hard to breathe and clings to ever pore on your skin.

I can only imagine it was ten-times worse back in the good ol' days.
Combine-harvester-pulled-by-a-thirty-three-horse-team
Taken in 1902 in Walla Walla, WA, this photo shows not only the machine, but also the deep dip in the hill as well. Wheat fields in this part of the country are often planted on rolling hills.
32 mules
This photo, from the oldoregonphotos.com, shows a 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 steep inclines.
Combine drawn by 26 head of mules and horses in a field of Feder
It took a large number of horses or mules to pull the heavy equipment, especially up the hills.
My dad comes from a long line of farmers, and also spent several years after he and my mother were newly wed working in Umatilla County in the 1950s. He had firsthand 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.)
In addition to providing descriptions of the equipment, he told me the names of some of the jobs involved with wheat harvest. The jigger sewed the sacks of wheat shut once they were filled. The tender made sure the cutter was going where it was supposed to while the skinner drove the team.

Quite different from today's air-conditioned combines.



After spending her formative years on a farm in eastern Oregon, hopeless romantic Shanna Hatfield turns her rural experiences into sweet historical and contemporary romances filled with sarcasm, humor, and hunky heroes.
When this USA Today bestselling author isn’t writing or covertly hiding decadent chocolate from the other occupants of her home, Shanna hangs out with her beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller.
Shanna loves to hear from readers. Follow her online at:
Find Shanna’s books at:

Monday, August 6, 2018

CANYON CROSSING by Kristy McCaffrey #blogabookscene #westernromance #prairierosepubs @prairierosepubs @McCaffreyKristy

By Kristy McCaffrey

Blog-a-Book-Scene is a monthly themed blogging endeavor from a group of authors who love to share excerpts from their stories. Find us on Twitter with the hashtag #blogabookscene and #PrairieRosePubs.

August's theme is Alone Again, Naturally. This scene is from my short novella, Canyon Crossing. Annabel Cross is left stranded in the Grand Canyon.

She dreamt she died in Grand Canyon.

Annabel’s eyes flew open and she gasped for breath. Lying on a narrow precipice, hundreds of feet from certain death, the Grand Canyon beckoned to her, ready to cradle her in its otherworldly embrace. Did she still dream?

Carefully, she pushed herself upright, hardly daring to breathe. Perched on the edge of a cliff, she was inches from a dramatic fall. A side glance to the east told her the sun was rising. What had happened? She and her guide, Frank Smith, had made camp, eaten a meal of beans, biscuits, and coffee, and then gone to sleep. Where was he? Where was the mule, Speck, who carried their gear? Had they fallen to their deaths?

Annabel sought to calm her panic. She was only twenty years old, she couldn’t die now. A slight movement caused her to slip; she frantically grabbed a scraggly bush, fear filling her with desperation. Finally, she stopped, barely daring to breathe lest it dislodge her further. Her mind raced for a solution.

Maybe Frank was nearby.

“Help.” Her voice was weak.

“Help!” Better, stronger, but not enough. “Help me! Help! Help!”

“Are you hurt?” a man yelled from above.

Annabel’s gaze flew upward, not recognizing the voice. Still, elation filled her. “No. I-I don’t believe so.”

“If I throw a rope, can you grab it?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll try.” She attempted to quiet her shaking.

A knotted cord slapped the ground beside her. Slowly, she reached out with her right hand and grasped it. Letting go of the bush, she clung to the lifeline with both hands. In small increments she moved upward, all the while straining not to slip off. Just as her aching palms screamed for release, she neared an unseen ledge that harbored the man and the life-saving tether. As she struggled to climb over the edge, a large shadow reached for her and strong arms yanked her to the safety of flat ground. A man hovered above, breathing heavily.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Annabel said. Drained of strength, she lay on the ground, facing the sky. “How did you find me?”

She winced as the rising sun glowed behind him, casting the man into an enigmatic dark silhouette. Shading her eyes, a flash caught her eye.

He wore a badge, a silver star.


Available at Amazon for 99 cents.
Also in Kindle Unlimited.


Connect with Kristy





Friday, August 3, 2018

Author Interview with Hebby Roman

I'm taking a break this month from my series on the woman of the Wild Bunch in order to help my pal and fellow writer, Hebby Roman, celebrate her release. Let's give her a big Cowboy Kisses welcome!

Hebby Roman


Hello Hebby and welcome to Cowboy Kisses! You have a new release this month. Tell us something about it.


Hebby: Howdy, Patti, and thank you so much for having me on Cowboy Kisses. I appreciate you interviewing me today. Don’t you love the “howdy?” I wonder how many people still use that in everyday parlance?


Okay, my new release, which came out yesterday is the third book in my series, called: “A West Texas Frontier Trilogy.” These books are all set around and in forts in West Texas. The name of this book is: “Mallory: A Mail Order Bride.” It’s my first mail order bride book. I’d never done a mail order bride story, but I’ve read quite a few of them, so I wanted to try my hand at writing one. It was a fun experience.



I consider you a solid writer. Not only do you honed and continue to hone your skills, but I know whether you’re writing an historical or a contemporary piece, that you’ve done your research. You take the reader into new worlds, and I always learn something new. Talk about the kind of research that goes into your work? What are the challenges? How does visiting sites contribute to your books and this latest series in particular?


Hebby: Now I’m blushing! Patti, that’s so sweet of you to say. Yes, I am kind of a research “hound.” I usually find that research helps me to visualize not only the landscape and timeframe, but for some reason, it helps me to come up with characters who are likely to inhabit that time and place. And being an obsessive plotter, I have steps I follow for researching.


First, I will read one or two general books, digital or sometimes, like for certain forts’ histories, I had to go to the library or Half Price Books or other “brick and mortar” bookstores to find print books on them. This happens on occasion for certain specific historical places. Otherwise, I can normally find plenty of digital books on the particular place and/or subject to read. I also love to visit the historical places, if I can, which really give you a great feel for your book.

Fort Davis, the setting for Mallory the Mail Order Bride

In addition, when I’m writing a contemporary subject, I like to visit the place and or event. For example, I grew up around horses, and I used to barrel race when I was a girl, but that was back during the day of flags and horns, etc. to start and end the race. When I decided to do a contemporary romance, including barrel racing, I attended several rodeos to learn all the new “techie” ways the races start, end, and are timed. Very important to have your facts straight when writing for a contemporary audience who might personally “know” what you’re writing about. Don’t try and fake it! Someone will catch you.


Second, I put together primary character “backstories.” As I churn through my character’s birthplace, upbringing, life events, etc., I usually come up with an occupation and/or some pivotal life events that need researching. For example, when I was writing “Mallory,” I had to do some research on the Old South and Savannah, Georgia, right after the Civil War, as that’s where I decided Mallory would hail from. For these specialized items, I do a lot of Googling and reading of articles about various aspects of my characters’ lives. For my fort series, you wouldn’t believe the “antique” digitized military tactics/commands handbooks I studied. They were very interesting; I learned the difference between a cavalry soldier and a dragoon, which I won’t go into, and how similar a lot of the “mounted orders” are to “marching orders.”


Third, as I’m writing the actual book, stuff rears its ugly head that I don’t know about, personally. Back to Google and looking up articles, maps, diagrams, etc. While writing my fort series, I kept an 1870 Texas Fort Map open in one tab. For the first fort book, “Ruth,” I kept open several Comanche language sites and used some their words for authenticity. I’m always looking up fabrics, shoes, etc., too. I’m not big on fashion in my books, but I like to include enough to “ground” the reader in place and time. In Mallory, one tiny bit of information about when the telegraph came to Fort Davis, was absolutely pivotal to the plot. I was so happy to find that simple fact because it really changed the plot line and action. Such are the joys of research.


As for the challenges, finding good information on very specific places, no matter how I Google and/or browse Amazon or bookstores can be challenging at times. Also, when I have a broad topic that needs to be narrowed down, Googling can be frustrating to get from point A to Z. Like the telegraph bit, you can sometimes pick up “jewels” along the way, but a lot of times, in order to get to the one particular piece of information you need, you have to dig and dig and try lots of different search words. And sometimes, no matter what you do, you CANNOT find what you need. Luckily, because you’re writing fiction, you change that detail if you can’t authenticate it.  


You get a lot of support from your husband Luis. Having worked with you before on several anthologies, I know first hand how we’ve relied on his technological skills. How about giving a shout out to him!? Not everyone could work with a spouse. How do you do it? What’s his role?


Hebby: Ah, the hubs, as I call him. For some reason, although he doesn’t read my books, he’s fascinated by the fact I write. Weird, huh? So, slowly over time, since I’m now mostly Indie, he’s become my virtual assistant. Yes, he does all my techie stuff, that’s his love. He’s been an IT professional for 40 years, and he loves to automate stuff. For example, he designed an Access database with a dashboard where I put in all my writing expenses, and at the end of the year, it spits out a report, making pulling my taxes together a breeze. He’s also great at doing memes, he does my newsletter, updates my website, and of course, formats my books. He also keeps track of what works, promo wise, and what doesn’t. He loves to help out with FB ads, Amazon ads, etc. and he’s good at those. I’m okay at paid promo and newsletter ads, but FB and AMS are tricky, so I appreciate his help. Oh, and he tweets, all the time!!! He loves to tweet. I tell him that he’s spamming everyone and needs to reciprocate, and he’s slowly catching on, but for some reason, he loves to tweet.


How do we do it? Hah!!! Lots of tug of war, back and forth, back and forth. He tells me we should do so and so, and I usually tell him why that’s stupid or not such a good idea. Ahem. Then he gets his feelings hurt, and well, if you’re married, you know how that goes. LOL But, in the end, we talk it over and try to find a middle ground that we both like and go forward. Also, he set me up a digital promo calendar where I put everything I need to do and he needs to do, and it sends him reminders, which is pretty cool.


As a writer, there are things I do besides sitting down to actually write, but which support my writing. Sometimes when my mind is quiet and my body is busy I do some of my best writing in my head. I like to ask authors if they have any activities or hobbies that help you be a better writer?


Hebby: Patti, I know exactly what you mean. I’m always one or two scenes ahead in my head before I sit down to write. For me, I do my best thinking, sitting on my back porch watching my fur baby, floating in the neighborhood pool (during the summer), and playing Mah Jongg on Roku.


You write in a few genres. Is there a favorite or one that comes more easily to you?


Hebby: Westerns, since I grew up in West Texas and my sister was married to a rancher comes easiest for me.


When did you know you wanted to be a writer?


Hebby: At 10 years old I wrote a 100 page book on lined note paper about a girl who tames a wild mustang. I set the book in and around Glacier National Park in Montana, and I researched it. I used our Encyclopedia Britannica we had at home. See, I am a research hound!


Locations play such a role in your books. Where does location come into your process? Do you decide to write about a place first, or do you set your story after you’ve worked out the plot?


Hebby: Location is very important, as noted above, that and historical events to compose the story around. For contemps, when I want to write about a certain subject, I try to think what location makes the most sense for that plot and subject.


Do you have a routine and a dedicated workspace?


Hebby: Routine wise, I’m all over the place, though, I do go back and read over the last couple of scenes I wrote, in order to immerse myself back into the story. As for where I write, you will laugh, but due to having “messed-up” knees from bad injections and a knee replacement, I write in bed with my legs stretched out in front of me. Sounds terrible, but otherwise, my knees protest too much.

Hey, I think I went on and on, that’s me, never anything short! 😊 But I enjoyed your questions. It was fun talking about my kooky processes, and I hope some readers will enjoy reading about them. Again, thank you so much for having me on such an awesome western site: COWBOY KISSES!!!


Blurb for Mallory, the Mail Order Bride:

Mallory Metcalf Reynolds and Colonel William Gregor are thrown together under treacherous circumstances. Mallory, a mail order bride who is trying to escape her ruined reputation, has no idea of the dangers facing her at a remote West Texas fort. Colonel Gregor is a grieving widower, who thinks the tender, personal part of his life is over. He’s focused on stopping Apache raids, terrorizing settlers and travelers alike. Facing a web of complex dangers, Mallory and the colonel form a bond of affection. But will the perils of the frontier, coupled with Mallory’s secret past, drive them apart? Can they find safety and love in each other’s arms?

Excerpt:


Dazed and trembling, Mallory clasped her arms around the soldier who had rescued her. She felt as if she’d been caught in a hurricane, carried on a high wind and flung to the ground. She couldn’t stop shaking, and her brains seemed scrambled, not fully comprehending what had happened. When she thought about the savages who’d taken her, she wanted to roll into a ball and disappear. But she had to get hold of herself.
Clinging to her rescuer, she burrowed into his back. His chest was broad and muscled. His longish hair, curling over his collar, was brown with shimmers of red shot through it and a few silver stands. He wasn’t a young man, definitely older than thirty, maybe even forty years. But he was strong and capable.
His presence comforted her, though, her stomach still sloshed with nausea and she hoped she wouldn’t throw up again, as she had when the Indians took her. That had been past humiliating.
He smelled good, too, of soap and bay rum, with the lingering scent of coffee clinging to his clothes. He must like his coffee, as her father had.
An hour before, she’d thought her life was over—that she’d be subjected to the vilest of horrors men could inflict upon a woman.
How well she knew what it felt like to be violated.
Disgust dug at her, turning her thoughts to Hiram. But she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that dark time—never again. Her tumbling thoughts strayed to Macon, her beloved son.
The stagecoach lurched and rattled behind them. The Indians… the Apache had gone through its contents, scattering some things to the four winds, but mostly, they’d left her trunk alone. If she was lucky, Macon’s picture would still be there, hidden in a side pocket.
Thoughts of Hiram usually made her skittish, making her shy away from men. Despite what had happened today, she hoped she could pull herself together and be a dutiful wife for Mr. Murphy. At least, he wouldn’t see her like this, as there had been no way to tell him which stage she’d be on.  
If she won Mr. Murphy’s regard, she could send for her son, and they’d be a family. If her husband-to-be was a kind and forgiving man. If he was as gentle as she instinctively knew this soldier to be.
For some reason, the soldier reminded her of her childhood sweetheart, Beauregard Jackson, a boy from the neighboring plantation. He’d marched off to the War Between the States and returned, fatally wounded. She’d helped his mother nurse him, but it had been no use. His wounds had been deep and had festered.
She and Beau had been dedicated to each other from childhood, and he was a kind and gentle boy. War hadn’t changed him. Even as he lay dying, he’d been more concerned about her future than his death.
And if he’d known her future, he wouldn’t have passed peacefully.
Had Beau lived, how different her life would have been. But the past was behind her, and she needed to make a new future in this hostile place.
The horse stumbled, throwing her to one side. She clutched at the soldier and burrowed herself deeper into his strong, muscled back, lacing her fingers across his tight stomach.
“Sorry, Miss. I didn’t see the prairie dog hole.”
“What’s a prairie dog?”
“Hard to explain.” He shook his head and glanced back at her. His eyes were a silvery-blue, like storm clouds rolling over the ocean.
“A prairie dog is something like a stout squirrel that lives underground in tunnels. They dot the land with their holes, entrances to their tunnels. We try to keep the main road clear, though, as the holes are dangerous. If a horse steps directly into one, he can break his leg, leaving his rider afoot.”
“Oh, I’d like to see a prairie dog. But I guess I’ll need to be careful when I’m riding.” She couldn’t believe she was chatting with him. They hadn’t been formally introduced, but he had saved her life.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “I think I should introduce myself.” He touched the wide brim of his navy-blue hat. “I’m Colonel William Gregor, the commander of Fort Davis.”
She’d known he was a man of substance. To be rescued by the commander of the fort was more than lucky—it was a miracle. She bowed her head and offered a short prayer of thanksgiving to her Savior.
“I’m privileged and honored to make your acquaintance. My name is Mallory Metcalf Reynolds. And I’m beholden to you for saving my life.”
“My privilege, Ma’am, to be sure. May I inquire where you were headed?”
“To your fort, Commander. I’m a mail order bride. Mr. E. P. Murphy placed an advertisement in the Texas Christian Advocate, a Methodist publication that is widely circulated throughout the south. My good friend, Nancy Aldredge, a minister’s wife, showed me the advertisement. I answered it, and Mr. Murphy and I exchanged letters.”




About Hebby:


Hebby Roman is a New York traditionally published, small-press published, and Indie published #1 Amazon best-selling author of both historical and contemporary romances. Her book, BORDER HEAT, was a Los Angeles Times Book Festival selection. She has been a RONE Finalist three times and in three different categories. Visit her website at: http://www.hebbyroman.com or Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHebbyRoman


Wednesday, August 1, 2018

Leadville, Colorado Historical Buildings

 
Early Leadville
Sitting at 10,152ft above sea level, Leadville, Colorado is a small town known for its importance in 1800’s silver mining. Folks looking to ‘strike it rich’ flocked to the Continental Divide with picks and shovels, and before long the town was booming with business. Even the railroad eventually made its way to Leadville. With striking views of the peaks along the Continental Divide, two of the buildings from the 1800’s boom are still in existence and use today.   

D
Delaware Hotel 
elaware Hotel: Originally from the state of Delaware, William, George and John Callaway left the east coast and settled in Denver as ware merchants. The brothers decided to expand their business and chose Leadville for their next venture. They built the 2-story Callaway Block on the corner of Sixth and Harrison in the mid 1880’s. The Callaway burned and the brothers turned their attention to building the Delaware as a tribute to their home state. The Delaware opened in 1886, with the ground floor home to several shops. The second and third floors housed fifty furnished rooms for use as offices or bedrooms. The hotel had steam heat, hot and cold water, gas lighting, and six bathrooms. William and George eventually went back to Denver, leaving John in charge of the hotel. The brothers retired in 1890, wealthy from their business ventures and investments.      

Today, 
A gust room at the Delaware
The Delaware is Leadville’s only remaining hotel from the mining era. The hotel features a museum, gallery, and Victorian style rooms. The hotel is decorated with American and European antiques, with each bedroom telling a story relating to Leadville’s history.


The
Tabor Opera House
Tabor Opera House:
Born in Vermont in 1830, Horace Tabor was a stone cutter. He moved to Leadville in 1850 with his wife, August, and mined what is known as California Gulch. That mine didn’t net him riches, so he sold it and became a Leadville merchant. During this time, e gave supplies to two men in exchange for 1/3 of their mining claim. Lucky for Tabor, the men struck silver, making Tabor rich. He used his wealth to start several other mining companies, making even wealthier. But Tabor was also a reckless spender, of which his wife didn’t approve. He eventually divorced August and married his mistress, Elizabeth McCourt, a.k.a. Baby Doe. Horace and Baby Doe continued to spend their wealth in a reckless manner, and when the silver market crashed in 1893, they were poor. Horace died in 1899 with the notion his mines would become profitable again, but he was wrong.

As
Interior of Tabor Opera House, circa 1800's
 a prominent historic figure in Leadville’s history, Tabor’s house is now a museum and open to the public. His other famous legacy is the Tabor Opera House. Before Tabor came to Leadville, Denver had a difficult time acquiring opera singers to come to the city and perform. Out of the way and off the beaten path, opera companies thought Denver unworthy of their time, as getting to and leaving the city meant the loss of other dates and revenue. After Tabor came to Leadville, he opened a small opera house, and later decided to build an even bigger one that Denver, ‘Queen City of the Plains’ deserved. Construction began during the summer months, with Tabor sparing no expense for the finest opera house in the west. Constructed of cherry wood from Japan and mahogany from Honduras, the house was furnished with paintings from Europe, silk plush chairs, tapestry and carpeting. Opening night was September 6, 1881, with Tabor securing Emma Abbott and her Grand English Opera Company to christen the house. The house was a success for a few years until the Broadway Theater opened on 16th Street and took away most of the opera house’s business. Tabor had to sell his opera house in 1896, after he went bankrupt.       

The
Tabor Opera House today
Tabor Opera House still stands today and is undergoing major renovation, which is expected to last several years and is paid for in part by the town of Leadville. Improvements have been made to the roof and to structural support due to water seeping through the bricks and causing major problems from freezing and then thawing. Electrical work, plumbing, and the brick exterior also need to be improved as well as the heating. Currently the opera house is only open for performance during the summer because the building does not have heat.

**** To learn more about Leadville, or for directions and aaccomodations, Google offers several great links.