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Thursday, July 9, 2020

New Release -- KENDRA’S SEARCH The Barlow Wives: Book Four by Agnes Alexander

When Kendra Fullerton’s father declares he’s moving the family from Philadelphia to far-away England, she and her younger sister, Francine, rebel. They escape by taking a long journey of their own—to Wyoming! Kendra knows her father has carried on a long-time affair with her best friend’s mother—could she and her best friend, Patrice, actually be half-sisters? Now, Kendra and Francine head to Wyoming for a visit with Patrice to search for the truth. But nearing her destination, a train wreck introduces her—in a most embarrassing way—to a handsome, but confirmed, bachelor, Garrrison Barlow.
To make matters worse, she learns that Garrison’s twin brother is married to Patrice—and he’s not about to let her forget what happened.  But Kendra cannot deny the instant attraction she feels sparking between Garrison and herself—in spite of their unorthodox first meeting.
Only a few days into Kendra’s visit, Kendra’s mother arrives from New York with an ominous man, Oliver Quizenberry, who she is determined Kendra will marry.
Kendra has no intention of wedding the strange man her mother is forcing on her. Though Garrison tries to remain steadfastly uninvolved emotionally, he is determined to protect Kendra. But Quizenberry hides a sordid and dangerous past none of them suspect. As his nefarious plans unfold, Kendra understands that Quizenberry poses a deadly threat to her entire family, especially her father, who is being held prisoner. Will Kendra find the answers she needs in time to thwart Quizenberry’s plot? Can Garrison protect the woman he’s fallen for? In an intricate web of deceit, what lies at the end of KENDRA’S SEARCH…


     Just as Kendra’s eyes closed and she was about to fall asleep, the train squealed, and the wheels screeched. The car began to sway and jerk. Women screamed, children cried, and men tried to brace themselves for an impact. Carpet bags, dinner baskets, blankets and humans flew into the isles and across seats and against windows.
     Sitting in the seat beside the aisle, Kendra glanced at her still sleeping sister scrunched down and wedged in the corner. Thinking Francine was safe, she tried to grab hold of something to keep herself from being flung out of the seat. She failed.
     In a matter of seconds, she ended on top of the handsome cowboy she’d seen board the train. Though she’d been intrigued by his looks, she didn’t see where he’d ended up sitting when he entered the car. She had wondered where he was. Now she knew he must have been seated somewhere behind her, because at this moment, he was in the floor near the back of the car. She was face down on top of him, and a woman twice her size was against her, wedging all three of them between a seat and the back door.


Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Another trip down anthology memory lane by Kaye Spencer #prairierosepubs #westernromance #anthology

In my June article (HERE), I revisited an anthology Prairie Rose Publications put out in the summer of 2014 (Lassoing a Mail-Order Bride).

For my July article, I’m revisiting another PRP anthology that saw its one-year publishing anniversary on July 4, 2020—

– a collection of six western historical novellas
that are hotter than a two dollar pistol and 4th of July fireworks –
The stories and their authors are:
  • Fake Marriage with a Dash of Desire by Karen Michelle Nutt
  • The Lady Piano Player by J. Arlene Culiner
  • Duty by Angela Raines
  • Diamond Jack’s Angel by Elizabeth Clements
  • A Summer to Remember by Julie Lence
  • Give My Love to Rose by Kaye Spencer

A little more about my story—

Music often inspires my stories. In the case of Give My Love to Rose, Johnny Cash’s song of the same name gave me the basic idea for the plot. Rose in his song became my main character. The man who came across the dying man in my story is a deputy U.S. Marshal.

Here’s the song.

And here’s an excerpt.

Clint Callahan stopped a few feet from the covered front porch. “Is this the Griffin place? Lon Griffin’s?”

“Yes. It is.” The younger of the two women came forward, her gaze dragging from the back of the mule to look at him. “I’m Rose Griffin. This is my mother-in-law, Bess.”

Clint’s mental image of Rose crashed. Rose was hardly more than a girl, and Lon was…Well, he was old enough to be her father, maybe even grandfather. This put a different slant on the situation, and he wasn’t altogether comfortable with it.

Rose’s chin lifted with the set of her shoulders. “Was he dead when you found him?”

This was the hardest part, explaining. A woman’s reaction revealed much about her character. He’d seen it all from throwing themselves on the body in fits of wailing grief to outright joy the no-good scoundrel was dead.

“No. I found him at dusk not far from the railroad tracks.” Clint dismounted. “He’d fallen out of the saddle and lacked the strength to get up. When I knelt beside him, I could tell he didn’t have much time left. I asked his name and where he was going. He said he had to get home to Rose. I told him I’d take him home, but he was in too much pain to move. I offered to fetch you. He said no. He didn’t want to—”

“—to die alone,” Rose murmured.

Clint nodded. “Yes, ma’am. There was a buffalo wallow off from the tracks where the night wind wouldn’t hit us straight on, so I got him laid out on his bedroll. I put up a makeshift lean-to over him and built a fire close by. I boiled a piece of jerky and helped him sip on the broth. He dozed off and on all night. Sometimes he muttered nonsense in his sleep, other times he was wide awake and making sense. He must have told me his life’s story.”

Available on

Until next time,
Kaye Spencer

Stay in contact with Kaye—

Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Go East, Young Man!

Go East, Young Man

C. A. Asbrey   

I remember my grandfather telling me about his trip to see Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show when they came to Glasgow. It made a huge impression on him, as in 1904 he was only a young child. It was one of his earliest memories. As he was a fabulous storyteller, he related it in evocative and brilliant detail. The streets of Glasgow, and her people, were drab and monochrome. The visitors were bold, original, flamboyant, and loud. They danced, sang, shot guns, rode horses in a way nobody in Scotland did, and spoke in an enticing drawl. He almost made us feel like we'd seen it too.        
A family enjoying the Wild West Show in Glasgow1904  

The Wild West Shows were part of American culture, and helped place a version of the Old West before the very eyes of people all over the world. They influenced, and were influenced by, the vivid tales told in dime novels, penny dreadfuls, and early movies; presenting a vision of the West as a land full of outlaws, plucky settlers, and native peoples who were alternately mystic or hostile, depending on the perspective chosen. 

Of course the real West never looked like that. It was a heightened reality which had been selling for many years before Buffalo Bill took his show on the road. Entrepreneurial people found that Easterners would pay good money to experience the Wild West, and had been staging shows in towns like Palisade in Nevada since the 1870s. (See previous blog post here -  

Tales of the frontier helped to entertain a populace who were not only becoming increasingly literate, they were also much more likely to be trapped in tedious jobs provided by the Industrial Revolution. The Old West provided colour and escapism to people who lived dreary and repetitive lives. William Cody's show actually built on the success of a book he published in 1869, and extended far beyond the USA. The Wild West show toured all over Europe, starting in 1883. It sparked others too, always popular, always well-attended. I have no doubt such shows encouraged some people to emigrate, and live a new life in a new land, mainly because my grandfather talked about just that. But he never did. He stayed put in Scotland, worked hard, raised a family, and eventually passed away in a house fire. 

His dramatic passing was followed by an even more dramatic funeral, in which the biggest storm anyone had seen in years hit. I still remember the minister's eyes widening in alarm at the thunder and lightning crashing outside as he gave his eulogy. The wind was so high the windows rattled even before the tree branch crashed into it. The storm fell as suddenly as it rose, just when his coffin rolled behind the curtains for cremation. The sudden silence was as crushing as the tempest. My mother, ever a fund of Scottish superstitions and folklore, stared at the wrecked gardens outside, and wryly observed, "He wasn't ready to go. Was he?" 

But I digress. The point of this post was to talk about the people who made the journey the other way, and more particularly, the Native Americans who came to the UK. Some, like the woman many know as Pocahontas (born Matoaka, known as Amonute, died known as Rebecca Rolfe) were terribly used and abused. When she died in Gravesend, England, there were rumours that she had been murdered by a husband unhappy at being unable to re-marry when she left him to return to Virginia. Others claimed that she had either smallpox or tuberculosis. The two illnesses are so different it is certainly peculiar that they are confused. Her grave is thought to be underneath the church's chancel, though that church was destroyed in a fire in 1727 and its exact site is unknown. Her memory is honored with a life-sized bronze statue at St. George's Church by William Ordway Partridge. 

Most others are far less well-known. One man who stayed behind after The Wild West Show rejoiced in the name of Charging Thunder. In December 1891, Buffalo Bill, Kicking Bear (the famous Crazy Horse's nephew), Lone Bull, Iron Tail, Short Bull, and No Neck, were all in Glasgow on a tour. It was Hogmanay (Scotland's famous New Year celebration), Charging Thunder was far from home and surrounded by foreigners, but he decided to celebrate anyway. A few sherbets later, he returned to the campsite drunk, and assaulted one of the interpreters, George Crager; hitting him over the head with a war club. He was hauled off to Tobago Street Police Station, Glasgow. Poor Charging Thunder must have joined many with headaches and regrets when he appeared before a sheriff on 12th January (a sheriff is a judge in Scotland). 
Charging Thunder and Josephine
Once in the dock, Charging Thunder pled guilty to assault, claiming his lemonade had been spiked with whisky. He was unable to identify which Gallowgate pub he had been drinking in, but that wouldn't have been hard to identify. Any crowd drinking only lemonade in a Glasgow pub at Hogmanay in the 19th century would have stuck out like a sore thumb, let alone a group of Native Americans - if his story had been true. The Sheriff sentenced him to thirty days in Glasgow's notorious prison, Barlinnie. Once back with the show, Charging Thunder soon jumped ship, and changed his name to George Edward Williams after he fell in love with Josephine, one of the American horse trainers. They stayed in England and settled in Gorton, near Manchester, where he worked at Manchester's Bellvue Circus for many years. He worked with the elephants, and apparently had maintained a great liking for the drink. He was known to stagger to the elephant house when he was at his worst, and sleep it off in the Elephant house, with his loyal friend, Nelly the Elephant, looking over him. He died in 1929 of pneumonia aged only 52, but he left behind a family, and still has descendants in the area. They have connected to Lakota relatives in the USA, and met with extended family.

He was not the first Native American to settle in the UK by  along way. Some men brought back wives and children for a very long time, mingling into society from the 16th century. Edinburgh, in particular, had a fair degree of Cree diaspora, and many like Matilda and Elizabeth, daughters of Cree-Scottish Nancy Hodgson and John Davis, found the city more tolerant of their race than other parts of the UK. Others made a name for themselves. Samson Occom, (1723 – July 14, 1792) was a member of the  Mohegan nation who toured as a preacher. He noted in his memoirs that he was especially well-received in Scotland, but also complained he was paid less than his peers, despite raising more money. 

Another early visitor was poor Tobias Shattock and his brother, John, of the Narragansett tribe of Rhode Island. They came to plead a case to the King, and had been promised a free passage to Scotland in 1768. They were both struck down with smallpox, and were looked after by an Edinburgh merchant, Alexander Mowbray. John survived, but Tobias was interred in Edinburgh's historic Greyfriars graveyard. You may be familiar with the place due to the story of Greyfriars Bobby, the faithful dog who stayed at his master's grave. The burial amongst The Covenanters was intended as a high honour, but his family were only informed months later in a printed notice. John continued his journey to London, where his journey proved to be futile. The King was not interested in helping him, or the Narragansett people.  

The 19th  century brought an entirely different vision of the vanishing American West to British audiences, an educated, elloquent Native American lady, Susette La Flesche (1854-1903), and her husband, newspaperman Thomas Henry Tibbles, began an extensive lecture tour of Great Britain. She was the mixed-race daughter of Iron Eyes, chief of the Omaha tribe. Her given name was Inshtatheamba, Bright Eyes. She was frequently called Princess Bright Eyes, but usually asked to be called Mrs. Tibbles. She disliked the title, as it showed an ignorance of the Omaha system of governing the tribe, but was pragmatic enough to realise that it got her cause attention which plain old Mrs. Tibbles didn't.     

At a time when the Native Americans were being portrayed as savages, and being driven on to reservations, she presented an alternative vision. She was a gifted communicator, and enthralled audiences with presentations on the beliefs, religions, practices, and the challenges her people were facing. She raised money for churches and schools, as well as raising awareness of the cause of Indian citizenship. 

Others weren't treated as well. Walter McDonald, a "Canadian Indian",  was making his way to Edinburgh in 1914 where he had family. The newspaper describes "His red skin, with feathered hat and show attire" which "made him a conspicuous figure." It was a rural, and unsophisticated, area. Children bothered and teased him, and he  began throwing stones to see them off. The police in Armadale diffused the situation, but he met further problems in Bathgate where a group of young men decided he must be a German spy  and beat the poor lad up. Don't ask me why, other than the fact that he was a stranger, and Europe was already embroiled in WW1. The USA didn't join until 1917. As the police in Armadale had been helpful and kind, he returned there. Some of the locals were outraged that he'd been treated so badly, and provided him with ordinary clothes, paid his train fare, and escorted him safely to the train to Edinburgh. It's a story I wish I'd known when I policed that area, so I could have dug up the records from the archives.

I don't have time to cover all the fascinating, and colourful people who ventured east to share their interesting lives with the other side of the Atlantic, but I thought you might enjoy a flavour of the lives, and deaths, of some of the people from the Old West who came our way.

Released 16th July 2020 


“She hasn’t got the combination to the safe,” said the manager. “You can scare her as much as you want. We all know you’re not gonna use that gun on us.”

Rebecca’s breath halted as she felt a careless arm drape around her shoulder.

“I don’t need a gun to hurt someone. Give us the combination.” The manager remained mute and turned his face away. “Your call, sir.” He pulled Rebecca around to face him as she gasped in alarm. “Just remember who you’ve got to thank for this, ma’am.”

He pointed over at the manager, who refused to meet her eyes. “That man right there.”

“Anything that happens to her is down to you. Not me,” said the manager.

Rebecca felt herself dragged from the room by one arm. She was pulled into the office next door and pushed against the wall. The man walked over and pulled down the blind before returning to her. Her breath came in ragged pants of fear. “Please, no. Don’t.”

He leaned on the wall, a hand on either side of her head, and pressed his face close. “You were gonna hold this place up. Are you some kind of idiot?”

She blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

The man pulled down his mask, revealing the face of the fair man who had walked into her office looking for Fernsby. “Don’t lie to me, honey. You had the same idea as we did— look at Meagher’s bank account to see where he gets his money. We’ve watched you march up and down outside this place all day, like you were on sentry duty, while you built up your courage. You even got in the way of us doin’ it. What the hell is goin’ on in your head? How dumb can a woman get?”

“You? Here?” She couldn’t quite decide whether to stop being scared or not.

“Yeah. Me.” He indicated with his head. “Now, Nat’s in there, and he needs the combination of the safe. It’s too new and sophisticated for him to crack the combination. You and me need to put on a bit of a show to make sure the manager gives it up.”

“You’re not robbing the bank?”

Jake huffed in irritation. “Try to keep up, Becky. I need you to scream for help so the manager gives Nat the combination to the vault. We want Meagher’s records too.”

She shook her head. “Me? I can’t scream.”

“What do you mean you can’t scream? All women can scream.”

“I can’t. I’m just not made that way.”

He frowned. “Look, Becky. If you won’t scream, I’m gonna have to make you. Let’s do this the easy way, huh?”

“Please, help! Noooo.”

Jake frowned. “You call that screamin’? That’s useless.”

“I told you. I can’t.”

Jake flicked up an eyebrow. “Last chance, Becky.”


“Nope.” A gloved hand reached up to her hat as his eyes glittered with mischief. “Don’t say you weren’t warned, sweetheart.”

Available for Pre-order Now. Released 16th July Innocent to the Last

Innocent to the Last

Monday, July 6, 2020



Recently, a good friend asked me to recommend some good western movies. I gave her the names of a few that my husband and I enjoy. Then over the past couple of days I’ve been in the mood to watch some of those favorite westerns again. There’s a plethora to choose from on tv, but in the end I went back to favorites from our DVD library.

Since there are thousands of westerns made stemming back to the silent movies, I’m going to touch on the ones that have had a lasting impression on me. There are lots of westerns that are shoot-‘em-up action. Gunfights and posse pursuits are expected, just like car chase scenes are mandatory in the action adventure movies. What I’d like to focus on here are the ones that speak to the heart and give a glimpse of what makes our western hero and heroine tick. We writers are guilty, to a certain extent, of romanticizing westerns and that’s understandable because life in the west was hard, sweaty and dirty, with few amenities and mostly grinding work. To appeal to our fastidious 21st century sensibilities, our hero and heroine must be reasonably clean and lean on the side of honor, with good overpowering evil. I admit I’m not good at making my villains utterly evil, nor can I put my hero through too much torture, because I am, after all, a romance writer, but I admire the writers who can accomplish both. Drama and conflict is what drives a good love story.

Of the hundreds of westerns I’ve watched over the years, Dances With Wolves is my all-time favorite western—and not just because of the fabulous scenery when Lieutenant John Dunbar rides over a ridge and sees the majesty of the western frontier spread out before him (South Dakota).

I’m so glad I watched this movie for the first time in the theatre where the huge screen gave justice to the magnificent scenery. The message in this movie hit me between the eyes. Finally, Hollywood got it right, thanks to an excellent novel written by Michael Blake and Kevin Costner’s vision in directing and acting in this amazing epic that won seven academy awards, including Best Picture and Best Director.

For once the Native Americans were portrayed in a true light: not as murdering savages but instead, a normal, peace-loving people who preferred a peaceful family life and killed only to eat or in self-defense. There was humor and laughter, wisdom and acceptance. Yes, there were rogues, too, as there are in all races, but it particularly pointed out the ignorance and injustice prevalent in the settling of the West. Oh how I despised the actions of those soldiers when they reached Dunbar’s deserted outpost. And did they really have to kill Two Socks for sport? One tiny little camera shot focused on an empty tin can of beans carelessly tossed onto the prairie by the itinerant peddler. The only other things littering the prairie were the sun-bleached heads of a cow or a buffalo.  (What legacy do we leave behind with our overflowing landfills?)

I later discovered there is more than one version of the movie, the full-length, and the editor’s cut (where this scene was cut, along with a few others).

Another Kevin Costner movie we’ve watched numerous times is Open Range. This movie has the usual greedy, bigoted  scoundrel with his group of thugs and a noisy shoot-out climatic ending, but what I like best about it is the characterization of two cowhands (Costner and Robert Duval) on a cattle drive and a glimpse into the heart of a trail-hardened cowboy. One scene shows how Costner’s character is aware he’d tramped mud onto the heroine’s carpet and tries to scoop most of it up and put it under the carpet. In another scene, he accidentally breaks her china tea service and leaves money with the store merchant to order a replacement set. There is also a touching scene involving a melted chocolate bar and how precious the taste is to a cowboy when he’s used to eating dried jerky and beans.

Lonesome Dove, written by Larry McMurtry, starring Robert Duval and Tommy Lee Jones, is a fantastic movie and mini-series. It gives a gritty view of life in a small dusty Texas town and life on a long, 900-mile cattle drive. The most succinct word to describe the landscape and the clothing is: beige. Everything is coated in dusty, boring beige. Even the clothes are beige. It also shows that special bond between a man and a woman down on her luck, as well as two old friends and promises kept (and was actually inspired by a true story of two Texans, Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving who took several thousand cattle north on a 900-mile cattle drive from Texas to Montana).

Legends of the Fall is a riveting and heart-wrenching saga of a retired army colonel played by Anthony Hopkins and his three sons on a ranch in Montana at the turn of the century. Not exactly a western as in wild west, but unforgettable, set in Montana. All the actors are great, but for me, Brad Pitt steals the show in every scene he’s in (ditto A River Runs Through It). The brothers are torn apart by so many emotions with a woman at the center of the unfolding drama. An unforgettable story of love and hate, bigotry and revenge…plus amazing scenery.

John Wayne starred in some great westerns, which could easily be a blog all about him. Classic McLintock…we’ve watched it so many times we know key passages let alone know what happens next. This movie has everything, big rancher, big money, great chemistry between JW and Maureen O’Hara, and lots of humor. It also shows good relations between the rancher and Native Americans and how people want to be and need to be treated.

I enjoy Rio Bravo for so many reasons, but probably mainly because of the jailhouse scene where Dean Martin resides on a cot and warbles My Rifle, My Pony and Me, accompanied by Ricky Nelson strumming his guitar. And loveable Walter Brennan, with his famous toothless cackle, joining in with his harmonica. Not something one would expect in the middle of a western, but unforgettably entertainment, especially when juxtaposed between Martin’s alcohol addiction and hired thugs terrorizing the town.
Three days before I saw the movie in the theater, I quickly read the The Horse Whisperer, a debut novel by Nicholas Evans. My biggest anticipation was how would Hollywood create the scene where the horse rose up to fight off the semi. I wasn’t disappointed. In fact the entire movie followed the book until the last quarter of the movie. Then it reversed the story line, which annoyed and disappointed me because it’s such a great movie with amazing scenery filmed in Montana. Still, I have watched it several times and not just because Robert Redford plays an amazing part. According to writer Nicholas Evans, Tom Booker is modelled after horse whisperers Tom DorranceRay Hunt and, in particular, their younger disciple Buck Brannaman. Evans has said, "Others have claimed to be the inspiration for Tom Booker in The Horse Whisperer. The one who truly inspired me was Buck Brannaman. His skill, understanding and his gentle, loving heart have parted the clouds for countless troubled creatures. Buck is the Zen master of the horse world."

Sunday, July 5, 2020


Post by Doris McCraw
writing as Angela Raines

The remedies listed below were taken from a book written in 1847 on the treatment of injuries and illnesses.

If you were suffering from asthma you might be treated with skunk cabbage root, taken as a syrup or dried, and smoked through a pipe. Earaches might be treated with the heart of a roasted onion placed in the ear. Toothaches, how about a pill composed of camphor and opium placed in the tooth, or if really bad, pulled by whoever was available.
If you were bitten by a rattlesnake you might drink a half a glass of olive oil, and apply some to the site of the bite.

Childbirth had either a female neighbor or if lucky a mid-wife present. Of course, if neither of those was available it became an individual or at most a family affair. The common practice of laying in, that is remaining in the birth bed, no clean sheets, etc. was not always practical for the woman in the West. Usually, there was too much to do to just lay around, so these hearty women were up an about more quickly than their Eastern counterparts.

Returning to the power of Manitou’s ‘healing waters’ during another pandemic
One of the Mineral Springs located in the town of Manitou Springs
In the 1800s there were three types of doctors. Most practiced homeopathic medicine which started in the 1790s, a few practiced allopathic medicines which started or were given the name in the early 1800's and a few were osteopaths, which came into being around 1874. In the Pikes Peak Region, most early doctors practiced homeopathy. This included three of the four women who were practicing in the area prior to 1880. They were Julie E Loomis, Esther B Holmes, and Clara (Clararbel) Rowe. The fourth, Harriett Leonard was an allopath.

By the 1870's Colorado was known not only for the gold and silver they were pulling out of the mountains, but also an area for invalids to come to recover. Before then the area was a place of businesses, ranching, and some farming, some in remote areas. The early days didn't have the medical doctors that began arriving in the 1870s. Instead, most folks did their own doctoring or called a mid-wife, using some of the above remedies.

It the mid-1800's hygiene and sanitation made their way into the medical field. Prior to and even during the War Between the States, many doctors still did not clean their instruments or hands between surgeries or seeing patients. Once it became standard practice the mortality rate fell, but it wasn't until the 1920's that antibiotics came into use.

Dr Samuel Edwin Solly
Dr. Samuel E. Solly
from Find a Grave website
Dr.Samuel Edwin Solly moved from England to Manitou Springs shortly after the town was founded in the hope that the air would help cures the tuberculous he and his wife had contracted. His wife did not survive her illness, but Solly did.  After regaining his health he sang the praises of the area far and wide. The region quickly became a mecca for health seekers. Into the mix of these migratory people came a number of doctors. The area around the base of Pikes Peak, the easternmost 14,000-foot peak in the Colorado Rocky Mountain Range, grew from a population of 3,000 in 1873 to around 10,000 by 1879. Of the twenty-plus doctors who were in the area in 1879 three were the women listed above, Julia E Loomis, Esther B Holmes, and Harriett Leonard. Clara Rowe appears to have arrived in late 1879 just prior to the 1880 census.

By 1881 Colorado began licensing physicians, just a year after the death of Julia E Loomis.
Julia E Loomis was born in New Woodstock, New York. After her marriage to John C Loomis she and JC as he was known moved around a great deal. While in Iowa, her daughter died at twenty-one, about a year after her marriage. It was after her daughter's death that Julia went to medical school. Julia was around fifty-four years old when she attended the Cleveland Homeopathic College for Women in Cleveland, Ohio and obtained her M.D on February 24, 1870. By 1878 she was in Colorado Springs and working to set up a clinic for the treatment of consumption (TB). She passed away in 1880 from pneumonia. Her 'death certificate' was signed by doctor E.B. Holmes. 
Esther B. Holmes was born in Rhode Island and married in her mid-teens. Records indicate she also attended the Cleveland Homeopathic Medical College for Women. Dr. Holmes was one of the early doctors to receive her Colorado license, #387 in 1882. She continued to practice in Colorado Springs until her death in 1910 at the age of sixty-five and according to the family she was known as the 'baby' doctor. 

Soda Springs in Manitou Springs - 1870. Believe it or not, the big ...
Soda Springs in Manitou Springs prior to development 
The third doctor in the area was Harriet Leonard. In 1879 she was the proprietor of the Mineral Bath House in Manitou Springs. There she advertised Hot and Cold, Russian Vapor and The Electric Baths. She was a graduate of Keokuk College for Physicians and Surgeons in Keokuk, Iowa. The school came to Keokuk in late 1850 as a state-sponsored school and was a medical center until 1908 when it merged with Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa. The school was also one of the early co-ed medical schools in the nation. 

Clara Rowe, the wife of F.G. Rowe, a man involved in insurance and loans, was also a graduate of the same Cleveland school as Holmes and Loomis. Clara Rowe also was licensed in the state of Colorado, receiving her license in 1881. After her husband's death around 1890, she moved to California and died there.

Both female and male doctors continued to arrive in Colorado Springs, Manitou Springs, and Colorado City, as the area was one of opportunity for those who wanted to take the cure themselves while also caring and curing the sick.

For those who might like to know more, I have an article on Women Doctors in the Summer issue of 'Saddlebag Dispatches' Summer

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History
Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet