Showing posts with label old west. Show all posts
Showing posts with label old west. Show all posts

06 September 2011

Wyatt Earp: Hero or bad guy?

By: Lorelie Brown
I love the movie Tombstone. Love it so hard. It’s one of those movies that I’m incapable of flipping past when I come across it on TV. And we all know who the hero of the movie is--Wyatt Earp, of course. And why wouldn’t he be? He was a real life hero. Right?

Well. Sure. You know what makes a hero? Living the longest.
It doesn’t hurt to have a cuddly, officially sanctioned biography written about you that then goes on to sell nicely.

Because here’s the thing--we all know what happened in Tombstone, right? Wyatt Earp went toe-to-toe with some outlaws with his brothers Virgil and Morgan, plus Doc Holiday in tow. Except Virgil actually had more history with law enforcement. In a good way.

Wyatt had plenty of involvement with the law. On the wrong side of it.

What most people don’t know: Wyatt seems to have gotten a little lost after his first wife, Urilla, died of typhoid fever. He was a constable for a while, but a problem developed when he was accused of pocketing the money collected from licensing fees. He was sued a couple times. In 1871, he was arrested for stealing a horse along with a couple friends. He was never convicted--because he broke out of prison and ran. So very heroic, yeah?

Then he moved on to Peoria, Illinois. In February, 1872, Earp was arrested three times. All three times were for “Keeping and being found in a house of ill repute.” A brothel. And he’s even listed as living there in the city directory. What a dirty, dirty boy. It’s unlikely he was the owner--more likely he was the bouncer or enforcer, the guy who kicked out the mean customers.

Once Earp moved on to Wichita, he seemed to clean up his act. He joined the US Marshals, wasn’t arrested any more. He moved a lot, gambled a lot and apparently drank plenty. But he kept his nose clean too, so it was all good. He moved on to Tombstone eventually and became the lawman we know (and mostly love).

I don’t know about you, but I like a bad boy now and then. Dean, the hero of my latest book CATCH ME, isn’t so much a bad boy, but he’s not exactly good, either. He’s mean. Cold. He’s wavering on the line and he doesn’t want to fall. (Was that the most ham-handed product shilling ever? I’m sorry. It’s late on Labor Day and I’m stuffed so very full of hand-rubbed ribs. Nom! Makes my brain a little sluggish.)

24 July 2011

Guest Blog: Lorelie Brown

This week, we're welcoming long-time contributor and romance author, Lorelie Brown, as she celebrates the release of her latest novel, CATCH ME, available now from Carina Press. Please leave a comment to win a copy! Here's the blurb:

Arizona Territory, 1882

Maggie Bullock's father needed expensive medical care and if that meant stealing from their friendly swindling banker, so be it. Once her father was on the path to recovery she would face the consequences. The whole thing was surprisingly easy until she's kidnapped by bounty hunter Dean Collier.

Collier is tired of tracking down worthless scum. He's afraid he'll lose his last scrap of humanity and become a stone-cold killer, just like the men he brings to justice. He jumps at the chance to become sheriff of Fresh Springs, Arizona. The one condition—capture Maggie.

He figured it'd be easy. Until beautiful, loyal Maggie breaks through defenses he'd thought cemented. His feelings for her run the range from fury to confusion to love, but if he doesn't bring her in someone else will. Can there be a future between a sheriff and a fugitive?


How do you deal with balancing the realities of historical settings with romance fantasy?

 Actually, I had a bit of a funny moment with that regarding CATCH ME. My original meeting between the hero and heroine had her stopping and bathing after a long time on the trail. The hero watched from the woods while developing a particular sort of interest in her figure. My fabulous editor pointed out this was a bit of a cliché. Accepting that, I changed it to have her sneaking up on him.

The copy editor pointed out that after two weeks on the trail she’d be rather stinky and did she ever have a bath?

I laughed, because what else could I do? My editor and I agreed that we’d leave it as-is with the unsaid assumption that life in the west was hard, but Maggie would have squeaked in a bath where she could have, even out of a basin. Because she’s a romance heroine, she’ll always smell amazing.

It’s just the rules.

Why switch from 1920s to the 1880s West?

I read Stephen King’s The Gunslinger one too many times? Which is just a short way of saying that I’ve had a long-term penchant for the late 1800s, same as the 20s.  To me, the key is that they’re both periods of extreme change. The dynamics of the world were changing. In the Old West, America was pushing her boundaries as far and as fast as possible, in the epoch of expansion. That meant lots of people struggling to find their place in the world. That’s the part that appeals to me.

Will you be writing more in the 1880s?

Absolutely. I just finished a book that’s set in Victorian London, at the same period. Don’t tell anyone important, but I would have much more preferred to set the story in New York. But I took marketing into consideration. Still, I think I kept that different flavor. The hero and heroine wouldn’t be right in any other time period.

Plus if you read CATCH ME, you’ll probably realize what I did: If Dean’s the tasty broody one, his brother Andrew is quite the rake prototype. He’s a lot of fun. I can’t leave him unattached forever.

What’s your favorite moment from CATCH ME?

Dean, Maggie and a pair of handcuffs. Neither of them are particularly happy with each other, but whoa-damn do the sparks fly. That was a lot of fun to write.  A taste:

          Like a conjured ghost, she was there when he lowered his hands. She held the canteen out and the cuffs gleamed in a sliver of moonlight. He hadn’t seen her mouth held that flat since he’d first abducted her from her hotel room.

          He took the water and his fingers brushed hers, sending a fluttery shock up his arm. It rocked him all the way down to his toes, tightening his body and making his dick perk up in eager attention.

          Her gaze ranged over his arousal and she cocked a hip. “Got yourself fully under control, do you? Looks like at least part of you thinks running away with me might be a good idea.” And then she smirked. Downright, goddamned smirked, lips curving in a sultry smile.

          His vision washed gray at the edges. After all this time, she still didn’t understand. The control he had to exercise, the rigid lockdown he had at all times.

          By god, he’d show it to her, exactly how dangerous he could get. And then she’d please, Christ, just shut up already.

          His hands flashed out and sank deep in her hair, yanking her head back and pointing her lush, tempting mouth up. He had only a second to see how wide her eyes went before he swept in and kissed her.

          Except this meeting of lips and teeth wasn’t about giving anything. It wasn’t a prelude to more. It wasn’t a promise.

          It was an exorcism.

Thank you, Lorelie! Please leave a comment to win a copy of Lorelie's latest, CATCH ME!

21 July 2011

Excerpt Thursday: Lorelie Brown

This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're welcoming long-time contributor and romance author, Lorelie Brown, as she celebrates the release of her latest novel, CATCH ME, available now from Carina Press. Join us Sunday, when Lorelie will be here to talk about the novel and give away a copy! Here's the blurb:

Arizona Territory, 1882


Maggie Bullock's father needed expensive medical care and if that meant stealing from their friendly swindling banker, so be it. Once her father was on the path to recovery she would face the consequences. The whole thing was surprisingly easy until she's kidnapped by bounty hunter Dean Collier.

Collier is tired of tracking down worthless scum. He's afraid he'll lose his last scrap of humanity and become a stone-cold killer, just like the men he brings to justice. He jumps at the chance to become sheriff of Fresh Springs, Arizona. The one condition—capture Maggie.

He figured it'd be easy. Until beautiful, loyal Maggie breaks through defenses he'd thought cemented. His feelings for her run the range from fury to confusion to love, but if he doesn't bring her in someone else will. Can there be a future between a sheriff and a fugitive?


***

The fine hairs across his neck shivered.


He snapped the cylinder into the frame with a flick of his wrist, then let it spin. Loaded, locked and cocked.


In one move he pointed the pistol at a shadowy figure in the trees, perched on a branch. “Come down.”


“No, I don’t think so.” The voice was another surprise. Low and husky, she betrayed no fear. He could almost hear that voice begging sweetly in his ear while he stroked into her. “Who are you?”


The absurd thought of fucking Margaret was easily shaken off. The sharp-edged anger that often filled him swept through and eased the sting of denial. “I’m Dean Collier.”


“You’ll pardon me if I don’t give you my name. I don’t tend to introduce myself to strange men.” She shifted along the thick branch, crouching lower. A stray beam of sunlight worked down to caress her face.


Perched on her high ground, she seemed wild. Half feral. She wore men’s clothing, for one. Snug breeches clung to her narrow hips and curved thighs. Her hair was a tumbled mess, barely pulled back in a horse’s tail. Dark hanks fell around her face. The hair was a weakness. He could wrap the tangled length around his fist and lead her around.


If he could get past the revolver she had pointed dead at his stomach.


Gut shot wounds were decidedly unpleasant. He ought to know, he’d had to carry in three separate prisoners suffering from ones he’d doled out. They’d screamed and cried from the pain enough to give him a bellyache of his own.


“Can’t say as I blame you.” He shifted slowly from his seated position, but it wasn’t going to gain him much. One of the first rules of tactical advantage was to keep the element of surprise and the higher ground. He needed to know what type of woman he was up against, so he’d let her have them. Death didn’t scare him. Hadn’t for years. “But it doesn’t much matter. Your name’s Margaret Bullock.”


She leaned a shoulder around the rough bark. “I generally go by Maggie, but that’s certainly near enough. Should I know you? Beyond the fact that you’ve been following me for three days, that is.”


He kept his joints loose and his knees barely bent. High ground or no, he could shoot her dead before she even thought about firing. “I’ve come to take you in. You’ve got to go back to Fresh Springs.”


She considered a moment, her head tipping to the side. “You think so?”


“Yes, ma’am.”


An exasperated breath fluffed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, would you please stop calling me ma’am? I’m only two and twenty. Not exactly a spinster yet.”


A shock of surprise perilously close to amusement lifted his shoulders. She didn’t appear to comprehend her situation. “You’re going to trial, Maggie.”


“I didn’t give you permission to call me that, either.”


“It’s either ma’am or Maggie. Your choice.” This had to be the strangest showdown he’d ever participated in.


“Miss Bullock is still available.”


He stepped toward her tree. If he got near enough, he could at least block off her easy escape route. Hell, he’d like to shoot the twit out of the tree. Taking her feet out would be unwise, since he didn’t feel like carrying her all the way back to Fresh Springs. But maybe her hand… He eyed the fingers splayed over the tree bark. Masterson had insisted he bring the woman back unharmed, though. Said he wanted to dirty her up himself. “Miss is for sweet young ladies. You, however, robbed a bank.”

11 July 2011

Photo Essays: Tombstone, AZ

By: Lorelie Brown

In October, 2009, my family moved to Arizona. On the weekends, we spend our time taking daytrips to all sorts of places. But what we love most of all are the ghost towns. They combine my husband's love of the wild with my sense of history--like they're tiny little pockets where both combine.

So naturally we had to visit one of the most famous Old West locations in Arizona. We made it to Tombstone in January, 2010.

The fabulous part is the old portion of Tombstone looks almost exactly like it did more than a hundred years ago:

See? Here it is today, with only the addition of some asphalt in the street (Well, and the tourists.):

I've always had a special fondness for Western romances. I feel like they harness that special optimism that's so very American. Of course we can put a town in the middle of a desert with no water around for miles, just for the silver under ground. And of course men can make their fortunes on dust.

Stagecoaches still roam the streets in Tombstone and for a small fee you can take a ride in one. I did, naturally:

We stopped by Boot Hill on our way out of town. Rows and rows of all sorts of people. Chinese who came with the railroad, gunslingers, gamblers, even women and children. My head went the places it usually does. Who were these people? What would prompt them to live in Arizona, of all places? I imagine they'd have to be a hardy, blunt sort to make it, whether living there was their choice or not.


The Bird Cage Theater is almost exactly the same as it was back then. What would life have been like if that had been your primary source of entertainment? No Blackberries, no iPods, no movies.


I won't say that Tombstone was the only influence on my upcoming western romance. Obviously, there's no silver mining and Dean is dragging Maggie halfway across the country, not staying in one town populated by gamblers and miners. But I like to think that a tiny bit of Tombstone's spirit--since it's "The Town that Wouldn't Die"-- has imbued CATCH ME.


Lorelie Brown's first book, JAZZ BABY, is currently available from Samhain Publishing in both e-book and paperback formats. CATCH ME, an 1880s-set western, will be published by Carina Press on 18 July.

10 July 2011

Guest Blog: Jacquie Rogers

This week, we welcome author Jacquie Rogers who has just released her new novel, Much Ado About Marshals through Melange Publishing. It's available on Amazon in Kindle and on Smashwords in all formats, and will be available in trade paperback August 15. At the end of the interview, there's a chance to win a free book.

Back cover copy for
Much Ado About Marshals

Daisy Gardner wants to be a detective, just like her favorite dime novel heroine, Honey Beaulieu. But Daisy's parents insist she marry soon, and to a farmer, heaven forbid! So she devises a brilliant solution--to marry the new marshal and become his number one detective. Only one problem: the new marshal isn't the faintest bit interested in marrying her.

Cole Richards is loyal, honest, and forthright. But thanks to his good buddy, Bosco, Cole is stuck in a lie borne of good intentions. If he doesn't go along with the people of Oreana's assumption that he's their new marshal, he and Bosco could be honored guests at a necktie party . . . and worse, a certain lady detective has marriage on her mind.

Why did you set this book in Idaho rather than in the usual western locations?
I grew up reading westerns set mostly in Texas, Wyoming, or Montana, but I also read a lot of history.  Since I lived in Idaho, that meant Idaho history.  One thing that always puzzled me was why such a huge part of the western United States was ignored by fiction.  Arizona and New Mexico get a fair share, and a few stories are set in Nevada.  There are good stories to be told in California, Oregon, and Washington State.  Idaho and Utah are even more rarely mentioned.  I needed a town that was just getting established, one that needed a new city marshal.  Oreana, in Owyhee County, Idaho Territory, fit the bill.

Did you make up the town or did you include actual buildings?
I made up most of the town but one building, Gardner's Mercantile, was a general store there.  It's now Our Lady Queen of Heaven Catholic Church.  It's a sturdy stone structure built in 1888 by John Pierson and Jim Kelly for the Grayson-Hyde outfit (ranchers) as a mercantile to serve the local area.  They also built a saloon across the street.  The building was empty for many decades until its conversion to a church in 1961.

You use dime novels in Much Ado About Marshals.  Is the Honey Beaulieu detective series real or made up?
Totally fabricated.  My friend, Judith Laik, and I were brainstorming because we knew the main character, Daisy, was a bookworm.  Earlier I'd said that the pacing was like the movie Cat Ballou, and Judy came up with a lady detective called Honey Beaulieu.  It was one of those perfect ideas that actually works.  So then of course I had to have a book cover.  To lend authenticity, I took an old Beadle's cover, one of the very few I could find with a woman in a dominant position, and created the Honey Beaulieu cover from it. 

About the cover--who is the cover model?  Tell us about the cover design and book video.
The model is, Kyle Walker.  He's a construction worker, not a cowboy, but he's a good sport and I thought he filled his chaps well. :)  Melange allowed me complete creative control over the design of the cover so I did the photoshoot myself, and Deborah Macgillivray did the cover design.  She's created over 200 covers and is extremely talented as a designer as well as an author.  As for the book video, I used pictures of Kyle from the same shoot, but of course I didn't have a heroine so I had to get creative with graphics for Daisy.  Oh, and Kyle has consented to an interview.  When that's done, it'll be posted on the Much Ado About Marshals page of my website.


The print book will be illustrated.  Who are the artists?
The artists are my son's best friends, David Angell and Peter Baker.  I'd seen their drawings when they were in high school and knew they were very talented.  Originally, I asked David to draw a backdrop so I could shoot the video for my book trailer, and he did such a wonderful job that I asked him to illustrate my book.  He then called Peter to the project, and together they drew some outstanding illustrations that will be included in the print book, which will be released in August.  I think the prints of the illustrations will be available by early autumn.

What other books do you have out now?
Nail It! The Secret to Building an Effective Fiction Writer's Platform, Level 1: Laying the Foundation, is currently available at Amazon and Smashwords.  I co-wrote this book and another: Growing Your Audience: A Workbook for Published, Unpublished, and Under-published Writers with Ann Charles.  The audience book will be available by the end of the month (we hope).  For fiction, Faery Merry Christmas came out in print last week, your you can buy it on Kindle.  And there's more to come, but fiction and non-fiction.

Where can we find you?
Website: http://www.jacquierogers.com/
Romancing The West: http://romancingthewest.blogspot.com/
1st Turning Point: http://1stturningpoint.com/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jacquierogers
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jacquie-Rogers/18676302690

Thanks so much for having me here on Unusual Historicals.  This is one of my very favorite blogs!  I'd love to give one commenter a free digital copy of Much Ado About Marshals.  Please remember to include your email address in your comment, so I can get in touch with you in case you win!

22 June 2011

The Entertainers: Buffalo Bill Cody

By Carrie Lofty

As with most legends of the American West, the factual details of William Frederick "Buffalo Bill" Cody's life are subject to much dispute. His autobiography claims that he began his life as an "Indian fighter" at age eleven and rode for the Pony Express at age fourteen. Facts become a little more prevalent once he joined the Union Army in 1863 as a teamster, and later went on to serve as a scout.


But his true calling was always entertainment. He made his stage debut in Chicago in 1972 at the age of 26. Eventually the play "The Scouts of the Prairie" also featured another Old West legend, James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok, but Cody was much better suited to stage life than ambling, gambling Wild Bill.

After years touring with a company, Cody decided to found his own entourage of Western spectacles. "Buffalo Bill's Wild West" expanded from its 1883 origins to become one of the best known traveling acts to have ever toured. Featured performers included Annie Oakley, and typical shows boasted trick shooting and roping, wild animals, cowboys, horse chases, re-enactments of famous battles, stagecoaches, parades of American Indians in full regalia, and lots of Cody's trademark flare.

Eventually he renamed his troupe "Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World," which probably suited his ever-growing showmanship and fame. The troupe performed for over a million spectators on Coney Island, then traveled to England for Victoria's Jubilee in 1887, officially taking Cody's version of the Wild West to Europe. (Pictured is the troupe's visit to Rome in 1890.) Depictions of massacres and firefights became the most lasting impressions the world would have of the American frontier until Hollywood's interpretations--although most early cinematic portrayals drew heavily from the show's high drama.

The autobiography mentioned above was first published in 1879, when Cody was only 33 and still growing in popularity. He certainly knew the value of managing his own image, and he often used his fame to promote civil rights for women and American Indians, as well as conservationism. Western historians claim that he was the most famous individual on the planet at the turn of the 20th century, and his death in 1917 of kidney failure solicited condolences from the leaders of the United States, Great Britain, and Germany. He remains one of the most gifted entertainers and promoters in American history, with his popular image of the Wild West still influencing imaginations today.

What other entertainers remind you of Buffalo Bill, in that they control huge empires--even to the point of rewriting their own histories? Is that even possible in today's information-saturated culture?

SONG OF SEDUCTION's sequel from Carina Press, PORTRAIT OF SEDUCTION, is now available! Later this year watch for Carrie's new Victorian series from Pocket, as well as her "Dark Age Dawning" romance trilogy from Berkley, co-written with Ann Aguirre under the name Ellen Connor. "Historical romance needs more risk-takers like Lofty." ~ Wendy the Super Librarian

20 June 2011

The Entertainers: Hurdy Gurdy Girls


By: Jacquie Rogers

When a man puts in over sixty hours of backbreaking labor in the mines, or punches cattle from dawn to dark every day, by the end of the week he's ready for a little entertainment. In the American West, that entertainment was provided primarily by saloons and dance halls. With the man to woman ratio of 20:1 or even worse, sometimes much worse, seeing a pretty lady was the delight of a man's week. And he spent a lot of money for the privilege. Enter: the hurdy gurdy girls.

Hurdy gurdy girls were distributed all over Europe, Australia, and North America, but this article addresses only the girls who came to the American West--Canada and USA and territories. What's a hurdy gurdy? (Find out at Chris Eaton's website) Why were they called hurdy gurdy girls, and how did this all come about? The best site to answer this is The Universe of Bagpipes.
To supplement their incomes, in the 1820s farmers and farmworkers began to make wooden brooms and fly-whisks during the winter which they, as itinerant peddlers, sold in the summers in the surrounding areas... It was soon discovered that the wares sold better when accompanied by
dancing, hurdy-gurdy playing girls. Quickly the dancing and music became ever more important and the pretty girls became ever better known...there was a lot of easy money to be made.


Hurdy gurdy girls could be found all over the West. Generally, prostitution was not involved. The girls, from poverty-stricken families in the duchies of Germany, were of strong moral fiber. They danced with men, and cajoled them to spend money on drinks, but services beyond that were taken care of by other women.

In 1913 Idaho Governor William McConnell wrote in his book Early History of Idaho:

The girls were engaged by the proprietors of the 'social resorts,' in sets of four, with a chaperone who accompanied them at all times. They were almost invariably German girls, and although they were brought into contact with rough people and sometimes witnessed even the shedding of human blood, the rude, generous chivalry of the mountain men, some of whom were always found in these resorts, was a guarantee of protection from violence, and strange as it may sound to those of modern times, these girls were pure women, who simply did the work they had bargained to do, and when their contracts expired, most of them married men whose acquaintance they had made while pursuing their vocation, the men who knew them best, and with the money they had earned by dancing with 'Wild Bill,' 'Texas Pete,' and others, helped to buy a house for themselves and husbands. The poor girls, and they danced only because they were poor, had kind hearts and wonderful patience and forbearance.
Some hurdy gurdy girls came over in family groups. Arthur Hart, Director Emeritus for the Idaho Historical Society, cited some census data in his article for the Idaho Statesman, Idaho History: Hurdy-Gurdy girls on frontier danced with all comers. Notice that this troop is called a "Hurdie Gurdie Troop" but it appears they only play violins.

The 1870 census is enlightening. In Granite Creek, Boise Basin, with its post office in Placerville, a "Hurdie Gurdie Troop" is listed as made up of Conrad Schneider, 43, his wife, Catherine, 35, and children ages 15, 11 and 2. Conrad was a violinist, as was his brother, George, 37, whose wife, Mary, was 34. A third violinist in the troop was Conrad Deihl, 19. Four dancing girls ranged in age from 15 to 27. All were from the Rhineland area of Germany.

There were two kinds of women in the Old West: good (meaning strong moral fiber) and bad (meaning sexually promiscuous). Hurdy gurdy girls were considered "good women" by men, but usually not by "respectable" ladies, the schoolmarms, and bankers' wives of the town. Because the dance hall owners had to make sure the girls were safe, hall patrons were expected to follow rules such as these posted at the Alhambra, a dance hall in Silverton, Colorado:

Rule 1. No lady will leave the house during evening working hours without permission.
Rule 2. No lady will accompany a gentleman to his lodgings.
Rule 3. No kicking at the orchestra, especially from the stage.
Rule 4. Every lady will be required to dance on the floor after the show.
Rule 5. No fighting or quarrelling will be allowed

The ladies to the left are hurdy gurdy girls in Barksville (I think), British Columbia, Canada. They danced as many as fifty dances a night, at a dollar per dance.

Later in the 19th Century, hurdy gurdy girls didn't just dance, but then they weren't from the Rhineland, either. The name became synonymous with soiled dove, and the girls' origins were not limited to a small area of Germany. However many of the original hurdy gurdy girls in the American West found husbands and made good homes for themselves and their new families.


So they had a happy ending after all.


Sources:
The Universe of Bagpipes
Arthur Hart: IdahoStatesman.com
bcheritage.ca
Jacquie Rogers writes quirky, magical romances. Available now are her contemporary western, DOWN HOME EVER LOVIN' MULE BLUES, a multi-era faery story, FAERY SPECIAL ROMANCES, and a Christmas story, FAERY MERRY CHRISTMAS. She's co-founder of 1st Turning Point, a pay-it-forward website where authors teach, share and learn promotion and marketing.

27 April 2011

Cowards: Robert Ford

By Carrie Lofty

Jesse James is a legend in the history of the American West, and his killer, Robert Ford, who shot James in the back, is nearly as notorious. His name became synonymous with cowardice, even to the point on inspiring the title of a Brad Pitt film, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

Born in the warzone of Civil War-era Missouri in 1862, Ford grew up a poor admirer of Jesse James's Confederate vigilantism and outlaw pursuits. By the early 1880s, while the nation was still healing, James was the most wanted criminal in Missouri, if not the entire United States. But he had already fostered a post-war following among Confederates who resented Reconstruction changes to their antebellum lives. This sense of Robin Hood-type chivalry was quickly amplified by dime novels who put James on the side of poor Confederates who battled money-hungry Northern carpetbaggers and bankers.

Ford joined the gang in early 1882. By this time most of James's trusted cohorts had fled, assumed new identities, or been jailed or killed. Even Jesse's brother, Frank, had retired to Virginia. Jess James settled his family in St. Joseph County, Missouri, and went by the name Thomas Howard. The Ford brothers, including Robert's brother Charles, posed as his cousins.

While Charles Ford had participated in James Gang raids, Robert was still new and untested. Jesse James planned one last raid on a bank in Blue Cut, Missouri, even as the Ford brothers met with newly-elected Governor Crittenden. Crittenden had made the capture or death of Jesse James a prominent part of his inaugural promises. He also made promises to the Fords: $5,000 each and exemption from prosecution if they killed Jesse James.

Keep in mind that no matter how Robert Ford went about killing the notorious outlaw, Jesse James had, by the end of his life, participated in anti-Union massacres, robbed dozens of banks, and terrorized citizens throughout the Midwest. James was not a great guy.

But the fact he was shot in the back in his own home became the stuff of legend. Storytellers used Ford's supposed act of cowardice to magnify James's Robin Hood-style legend. Countless depictions of unaware, "innocent" James straightening a picture on his wall, with Robert Ford looming at his back, graced newspapers and magazines across the country. Especially because James's pro-Confederate image hearkened back to the mythologized Old South--where gentlemen dueled face to face--his murder seemed especially tragic to those who mourned an extinct way of life.

Rather than the hero's status Ford assumed he would receive, he was ostracized. Political forces in Missouri were split along many post-war factions, and few agreed that Crittenden's scheme had merit. The Ford brothers were convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to hang, only to be pardoned within hours by the governor. They were paid but a portion of the bounty promised; the railroads that had posted the reward had no incentive to pay up once their villain was dead.

Following the killing, Ford lived a tumultuous life. His brother, a tubercular morphine addict, died in 1884. Robert Ford drifted from job to job, opened a salon, survived would-be knife assassin, and wound up at a mine in Colorado. There, a petty outlaw named Edward O'Kelley, convinced he would be revered as a hero for killing the ultimate coward, shot Ford point-blank in the chest with a shotgun. Ford was only thirty years old, his place of cowardice in the violent history of the American West secured.

What do you think about Robert Ford and Jesse James? Was Ford a coward for taking down an outlaw by any means necessary? Or has history made James out to be a more sympathetic "victim" than he merited?

Carrie Lofty's next historical romance, PORTRAIT OF SEDUCTION, is available May 2. Later this year watch for Carrie's new Victorian series from Pocket, as well as her "Dark Age Dawning" romance trilogy from Berkley, co-written with Ann Aguirre under the name Ellen Connor. "Historical romance needs more risk-takers like Lofty." ~ Wendy the Super Librarian

04 April 2011

Cowards: Jack McCall

By Lorelie Brown


Howdy cats & kittens! It’s a new month here at Unusual Historicals and that means a new topic. And I get to be the very first. That makes me all wiggly inside. There’s been exciting stuff going on here at UH too, behind the scenes. The very wonderful Lisa Yarde is stepping up to fulfill a larger role. The effects on y’all the readers should be little, but Lisa deserves a round of applause for her help!

Ok, back to today’s story on cowards.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Wild Bill Hickok. No, he’s not exactly my topic for today. He was a showman, a lawman and a gambler, but never a coward. In July of 1876, he arrived in Deadwood, South Dakota, intending to seek his fortune in the gold fields. There was plenty of it to go around after all. Deadwood was the largest gold lode found since the California Gold Rush in 1849. He had a new wife named Agnes and he meant to stake their fortunes.

Instead, he wound up gambling at Nuttal and Mann’s No. 10 saloon on 2 August, 1876. What can I say, Hickok loved a game of poker.

Hickok was known for never taking a seat with his back to the door, but on this occasion he had. Twice he’d asked a man named Charles Rich to switch seats with him so he could sit with his back to the wall. Rich said no. But Hickok didn’t give up the game. By

Jack McCall walked up behind Hickok, shouted, “Take that!” and shot Hickok in the head. He died instantly. The hand of cards Hickok held--aces and eights--eventually became known as “the dead man’s hand.” (Curiously, it wasn’t the first hand of cards known for that. Gamblers had a habit of dying while clutching cards.)

A jury worth of miners and business men were gathered and McCall was put to trial. He claimed that he killed Hickok to avenge his brothers death--and it was possibly true. McCall’s brother was a thief killed by an unknown lawman in Abilene, Texas. McCall was acquitted. If a body wanted to kill a man, Deadwood was apparently the place to do it.

But McCall just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Over the next nine months, he bragged about killing Hickok.

And he was arrested and put to trial again, this time in the territorial capital of Yankton.

Because his trial in Deadwood was informal and because Deadwood wasn’t territorial incorporated yet, this wasn’t considered double justice. It was, however, considered handy justice when McCall was found guilty.

Jack McCall was hanged for his sins on 1 March, 1877.



Lorelie Brown's first book, JAZZ BABY, is currently available from Samhain Publishing in both e-book and paperback formats. Her second romance, an 1880s-set western, will be published by Carina Press on 18 July.

22 February 2011

An Ordinary Day In: The Life of a Washerwoman

By Elizabeth Lane

Among the family treasures in my home is my Great-Grandma Magelby's battered old copper wash boiler. It measures 20 inches across by 13 inches high and sits on a three-legged iron stand, which supported it over the fire. On one side of the lip, where the soapy water was always dumped out, the copper has been corroded away. It makes the old tub less presentable but even more precious. When I look at it I imagine her dumping out the wash water time after time, week after week, over the years of her life.

Washing clothes in those old days wasn't a job for sissies. To give you an idea of what was involved, here's a list of instructions, written by a grandmother to a new bride. The spelling errors are from the original. I can't vouch for its authenticity, but it's a fun read and probably pretty accurate.

WASHING CLOTHES

Build fire in backyard to heat kettle of rain water.
Set tubs so smoke wont blow in eyes if wind is pert.
Shave one hole cake of lie soap in boiling water.
Sort things, make 3 piles--1 pile white, 1 pile colored, 1 pile work britches and rags.
To make starch, stir flour in cool water to smooth, then thin down with boiling water.
Take white things, rub dirty spots on board, scrub hard, and boil, then rub colored don't boil just wrench and starch.
Take things out of kettle with broom stick handle, then wrench and starch.
Hang old rags on fence.
Spread tea towels on grass.
Pour wrench water in flower bed.
Scrub porch with hot soapy water.
Turn tubs upside down.
Go put on clean dress, smooth hair with hair combs.
Brew cup of tea, sit and rock a spell and count your blessings.

Monday was the traditional day for washing. In many communities there was competition among housewives to see who could get their wash hung first and whose whites were the whitest. In good weather the washing and drying could be done outdoors. In the winter the job had to be done in the kitchen, with lines strung wherever they would fit. Starched clothes were sprinkled and rolled up to await Tuesday--the traditional ironing day.

The above list mentions "lie soap". Most people made their own soap in those days out of lye (which came from wood ash) and fat. The soap was used for bathing as well as laundry. My mom's sister swore by homemade lye soap and made it all her life. We always used to save our bacon drippings to give her for soap. Here are a couple of recipes I found.

Boiled Soap (for cooking outdoors in a kettle)
32 pounds lard
16 quarts soft water
8 cans lye

Boil two hours and then add one more gallon of water. Stir and remove fire from kettle and pour into molds.

Cold Soap
6 lbs melted fat
1 can lye
2 1/2 pints water

Add lye to water and dissolve. When container which holds the lye water is warm, add the fat and stir until cool. Pour into a cloth lined box, or a box that has been dipped in cold water, and cover. Cut soap into squares when set.

The modern age of the washing machine dawned with the invention of a self contained electric machine in the first decade of the 20th Century. In 1922 Howard Snyder placed a circular plate studded with four vertical fins at the bottom of a tub and attached it to a drive shaft to make the first agitator washer. Some time later, rollers were added above the tub for wringing out clothes. My mother used an old Maytag of this style for most of my growing up years. She taught school all week and spent most of her Saturdays doing the wash. We've come along way with our modern automatic washers that known how and when to wash, rinse and spin. So give your washing machine a hug today.

Elizabeth Lane has written more than thirty historical romances, several set in the early 20th century. Her latest is CHRISTMAS MOON, a time travel set in present day and 1870s Wyoming, available in print and Kindle from Amazon.com, and in other e-formats from E-Reads. Watch for her latest Harlequin Historical, THE WIDOWED BRIDE, in March 2011.

15 February 2011

An Ordinary Day In: The Life of A Chuck Wagon Cook

By Jacquie Rogers

The first rays of dawn are peeking over the horizon, and a few moos from the waking cattle herd tell the cowboys it’s time to mount up and tend to business. Life for both man and beast is hard on a cattle drive.

But one man had been hard at work long before the cowhands awoke--the cook, or Cookie, has he was often called (or cousie, by those who spoke Spanish).

About Chuck Wagon Cooks

Before we get into Cookie's day, let's take a look at who he was. Most chuck wagon cooks were ex-cowboys who were either too old (meaning in their 30s and sometimes 40s) for cowpunching or were injured. Either way, he was experienced in all aspects of the cattle drive and no one, not even the trail boss, questioned his authority around the campfire if they knew what was good for them.

Most cooks were considered surly old coots. Of course, with the terrible working conditions, the injuries, the heavy lifting, the rigid schedule of long working hours and short nights, it would be hard for nearly anyone to maintain a sunny disposition. In return for their efforts, cooks made nearly as much money as the trail boss and double that of the average cowhand--but they earned every penny of it.

Food was (and always will be) important to young men, and most cowboys were 14 to 25 years old, so hiring the best cook helped the trail boss recruit the most accomplished cowboys. That's another reason why trail bosses didn't give a good cook any guff, or let the cowhands get out of line. Once he lured a good cook onto his crew, he did his best to keep him.

About Chuck Wagons:

Chuck is defined by Etymology Online as a "piece of wood or meat," 1670s, probably a variant of chock "block." The "meat" sense is the source of American English chuck wagon, from approximately 1880. The date is, of course, wrong, since Charles Goodnight is credited for inventing the chuck wagon in 1866, and it was called a chuck wagon, so the correct date should be 1866.

While companies did make chuck wagons (Studebaker, for one), most were converted farm wagons with a chuck box on the back. A hinged lid with folding legs on the chuck box served as a fold-out work bench, and there was generally hooks for a canvas at the top of the wagon to use as a sun shade. Underneath the chuck box was the boot, where they carried the Dutch ovens, tin plates, forks, knives, spoons, and cups, and whatever else they could get in there. Various hooks and fasteners on the sides of the wagon held the water barrel, large pots and tubs, axes, the coffee pot, and the like.

Underneath the wagon was another canvas or cowhide called the possum belly. Sometimes two or three. This is where they kept the firewood (or buffalo or cow chips) collected along the way for the evening fire. They also kept the kerosene for the lanterns here, usually in a separate boot. Inside the wagon, they hauled the flour, beans, coffee, dried fruit, canned goods, and other foodstuffs to last 30 days, as well as cowhands' bedrolls and personal effects, and whatever else was needed on the trail drive.

A Day in the Life of a Chuck Wagon Cook

Three in the morning comes pretty early when you put in an eighteen-hour day before, and before that, and before that... But while the cook got away with a considerable amount of crankiness and general orneriness, one thing that the cowhands wouldn't put up with was late meals. First order of the day is to build the fire and put on the coffee. Then he'd "build the biscuits," meaning he'd mix up the biscuit dough and set it to rise. Those two things were the mainstays no matter whether he was cooking for a cattle drive or a roundup. After that, he'd fry some sowbelly (bacon) and maybe a few potatoes if he had them, or maybe sourdough flapjacks. It took a good two hours to get breakfast ready.

Once the cowboys ate, they tossed their dishes in the wreck pan and off they went to the herd. But the cook's job has just begun, and he didn't get to sit down all day to do it, either. He had to clean up the dishes and pots, pack everything away, hitch up the team (usually four mules), and head to the noon destination at a pretty good clip, because he had to have dinner (served midday) ready before the herd got there. The business of the chuck wagon moseying along with the herd just wasn't true. In reality, he started an hour later, but had to be there two hours earlier than the herd, so it was sometimes a wild ride with a lot of cussing and hollering.

Once at the destination, he unpacked everything, started the fire and put on the coffee. He made coffee by boiling the water and then tossed a couple handfuls of ground coffee in and let it simmer. It's said that if you dropped a horseshoe in the pot and it sank, the coffee hadn't boiled enough yet. This meal usually consisted of warming up whatever was left over--just enough food to keep the hunger at bay. Maybe some son-of-a-bitch stew or the some other kettle food.

After he did the dishes and disposed of the food scraps, he packed everything up again and drove hell-bent-for-election to the evening camp, collecting firewood and other materials to use for camp fire fuel along the way.

Once he got there, you guessed it, he unhitched the team, unpacked everything all over again, started the campfire, put on the coffee, built the biscuits, slapped some steaks on the grill (for roundup, usually didn't have steak on a cattle drive), and, if the cowhands were lucky, maybe he'd make a vinegar pie or a tasty dessert out of dried fruit.

While the cowhands were sitting around the campfire drinking coffee and shooting the breeze, the cook was cleaning up, feeding his sourdough starter, and getting ready for the next day--more of the same.

But the cook didn't just cook. He was also the doctor, banker, referee, often the letter writer, and father figure.

Once the fire was out, the cowhands were bedded down, the cook could go to bed, too. He got the prime sleeping spot--under the chuck wagon, but in just a few hours, another grueling day would begin.

Just for fun, here's some cow camp etiquette lessons:

Cowboy etiquette, known by all except the greenest of green horns, dictated that:

-- Riders always stayed downwind of the chuck wagon so as not to get dirt in the food.

-- Horses were not to be tied to the chuck wagon.

-- There was no using the worktable as the dining table.

-- Cowboys were very careful not to let the lid touch the dirt while serving themselves from the pot.

-- Never take the last of anything unless everyone had been served.

-- Always scrape your plate clean and stack it in the wreck pan to be cleaned (when water was scarce, they were cleaned with sand.)

Sources:
Carter Museum
Lone Hand Western: Reliving History
Phudpucker
Muller's Lane Farm
My Wooden Spoon
Friona Star

Jacquie Rogers writes quirky, magical romances. Available now are her contemporary western, DOWN HOME EVER LOVIN' MULE BLUES, a multi-era faery story, FAERY SPECIAL ROMANCES, and a Christmas story, FAERY MERRY CHRISTMAS. She's co-founder of 1st Turning Point, a pay-it-forward website where authors teach, share and learn promotion and marketing.

26 December 2010

Guest Author: Elizabeth Lane

This week on Unusual Historicals, we're helping contributor Elizabeth Lane launch her special holiday time-travel treat, CHRISTMAS MOON. Stick around to see how you can win a free copy. Here's the blurb:

Pregnant, unwed and down on her luck, history teacher Emma Carlyle is facing the worst Christmas of her life. Needing some research for her master's thesis on legendary Wyoming lawman J.D. McNulty, she makes a Christmas Eve drive to South Pass City, where J.D. was buried. Heading home, she loses her way in a storm. After her car vanishes, she ends up in 1871, half-frozen, on the doorstep of a remote mountain cabin.

When J.D. himself opens the door with a pistol in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other...well, let's just say that sparks start flying. These two lost souls are clearly meant for each other. But there's one problem. Emma has studied everything about J.D.--and she knows he has only a few weeks to live.
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"Five Spurs! This is a marvelous story filled with the spirit of Christmas miracles... The romance between J.D. and Emma evolves from suspicion to amazement to a sizzling, unbridled love. Resolving a time travel romance is always tricky but Elizabeth Lane does a terrific job of making it all work--including that little detail of J.D.'s imminent death. An engaging, intriguing and thoroughly enjoyable story of timeless love." ~ Love Western Romance

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Tell us about yourself.

I'm a westerner by birth and upbringing. My grandparents lived like pioneers and my great-grandparents were pioneers. I grew up in a small town, in a family of people who loved the outdoors. Maybe that’s why writing Western romance comes so naturally to me. But I can and do write other things. My earliest books were big historical sagas. Then the market changed and I found a new home at Harlequin Historicals. Counting a couple of ghost writing projects, I'm coming up on 35 books. Twenty-eight of those books have been for Harlequin--3 of them contemporaries, the rest historicals. CHRISTMAS MOON is a step in a new direction, my first e-book and my first time travel.

CHRISTMAS MOON is something new for you. How did you come to write it and publish it as an e-book?

I'd written about 30 books for Harlequin and wanted to try something different. I've always loved time travel, and the old West seemed a natural setting for me. My agent encouraged me to add the Christmas element. I loved every page of this book, but we couldn't sell it, not even to Harlequin, because it didn't fit their format. No major publisher wanted a Christmas/western/time travel. My agent has his own e-book publishing venture, E-Reads. We decided to publish it there. The timing couldn't have been better. With the recent boom in e-publishing and plenty of promotion on my part, CHRISTMAS MOON has received a lot of attention. I couldn't be happier. This is a special book, and I wanted to have it read and enjoyed.

What can your readers expect next?

I'd planned to end my "Bride" series with THE HORSEMAN'S BRIDE. Then a stunning, strong-willed woman strode into the last chapter of the book, and I knew I wasn't finished. Those of you who've read, or will read THE HORSEMAN'S BRIDE, will be happy to know that Ruby gets her story. Look for THE WIDOWED BRIDE in March.

After that, I'll be leaving Dutchman's Creek, Colorado for the northern California coast and a haunting post-gold rush story, final title and release date TBD. More news, I've just signed to do two more full length historical westerns and a novella for Harlequin. That should keep me busy for a while.

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Tis the season, readers, for some Christmas magic. Would you like to like to win a free copy of CHRISTMAS MOON? Leave a comment or question for Elizabeth for your chance. I'll draw a winner at random next Sunday. Void where prohibited. Best of luck, and the best of the season to you!