A look at bulletproof body armor and a book tie-in by Kaye Spencer #prairierosepubs #bulletproofvest #bodyarmor

 

Bulletproof body armor has evolved over the past several centuries from rudimentary wooden and metal designs to layers of fabric to silk to Kevlar. The basic design of a bulletproof armor is the outer layer deflects and absorbs the bullet’s impact, and the inner layer retards deeper penetration.

 

Timeline:

 

• Wooden and metal body armor were used in the 1500s by both Italian and Roman Royalty.
•  In the 1800s, the Japanese created soft body armor from silk.
•  The nylon flak jacket came along during WWII.
•  In the 1970s, DuPont chemist, Stephanie Kwolek, invented made Kevlar.

 

Two‘silk’ stories:

1880s, Arizona— Doctor George E. Goodfellow documented cases of men who had been shot in the chest and 1) had either lived because the folded layers of a silk handkerchief in a breast pocket had stopped a bullet or, 2) in the case of the men who had died, the silk cloth had prevented the bullet from penetrating as deeply. Fascinated, Goodfellow went on to construct a vest that had multiple layers of silk, but he ultimately didn’t pursue it.

Dr. George E. Goodfellow
Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

March 16, 1997, Chicago— A man named Casimir Zeglen (Americanized spelling) had received patents on two bulletproof vests (1895 and 1897). He had demonstrated, successfully, the effectiveness of his bulletproof armor on cadavers and a Great Dane (who was unharmed). However, the skeptics still weren’t convinced that his invention was safe for people.

Determined to change their minds, he arranged a demonstration  in front of a group of people he had personally invited, including Chicago’s mayor and several doctors and policemen, as witnesses.

Zeglen and his assistant faced each other. Zeglen was wearing his body armor. To the utter shock of the observers, the assistant fired directly into Zeglen’s chest with a .32 revolver. People rushed to Zeglen’s aid and were astonished he was alive. Zeglen said he’d felt a temporary stinging sensation. A second shot from the same revolver gave the same results. A third shot came from a .38 caliber revolver, which Zeglen said he felt as if he’d been poked in the ribs with knuckles.

One of the doctors insisted on ‘taking a shot’ (from the .32). He reported the concussion was no worse than being poked with a cane.

The fifth, and final shot, was fired at Zeglen from a .44 caliber Colt, and the after effects were similar to the other four.

 

Zeglen and Szczpanik
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Zeglen had designed a way to layer silk and hand-sew it in a certain and precise fashion, but it was a cost-prohibitive endeavor. It wasn’t until he teamed with another inventor named Jan Szczpanik that the technology they came up with  automatically manufactured silk bulletproof vests. Still, the cost for one vest was roughly $800 (c. 1900 dollars).

 

Szczpanik’s name ended up being associated with the ultimate success of silk bulletproof body armor, and Zeglen went on to other business adventures. The efficacy of silk armor couldn’t keep up with the increasing firepower that came with the evolution of ammunition. It did, however, create the path for the development of the sophisticated body armor of today.

Testing a bulletproof vet - Washington, D.C. 1923
National Photo Company, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

This topic leads-in to my new book release today—Chicago Lightning—through the Prairie Rose Publications' Fire Star Press imprint. Come on by to read about it.

 

Excerpt (when we meet the villain and his silk bulletproof vest)

Although dark glasses masked his eyes, Eddie swept his gaze around the warehouse in a manner that appeared bored and uninterested. He idly brushed the dusting of snow from his shoulders and opened his double-breasted overcoat. Ceara wasn’t fooled at his apparent disinterest. Eddie missed nothing

As he strolled toward her, she took in his appearance from his tailored suit and one of his many custom-make eight-hundred-dollar silk vests that served as body armor, to his gleaming, patent leather wingtip oxfords. The silver tips were only slightly less brilliant than his diamond-studded platinum watch chain. His black felt fedora, perched at a jaunty angle, added another layer of arrogance, power, and affluence to his formidable presence. It was no wonder men and women looked twice at him. It was impossible not to.

 

  

Until next time,
Kaye Spencer

 

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Casimir Zeglen References:

(PDF) Tailored to the Times: The Story of Casimir Zeglen’s Silk Bullet-Proof Vest (researchgate.net)

 

The Monk Who Stopped Bullets with Silk: Inventing the Bulletproof Vest | Article | Culture.pl

Tea or Coffee?

Which is your favorite? I grew up in a coffee-drinking household—which is probably why my character all drink coffee. I never acquired a taste for tea, except as an occasional alternative or in its iced form.

Tea’s roots as a beverage are ancient—literally. Legend has it that, in 2737 BC, a green tea leaf fell into Chinese Emperor Shen Nung’s cup of hot water, he decided to drink it—and loved it. Tea went from China to Japan, then to Europe via Dutch traders.

In 1610AD, The Dutch East India Company imported the first shipments of Chinese tea to Western shores, marketing it to rich people as an exotic medicinal drink but it really caught on. Only forty or so years later, tea parties became all the rage among Western women. 

When King Charles II married Catherine Braganza of Portugal, a huge fan of tea, their subjects started drinking so much tea that alcohol consumption declined. When the English East India Company brought the gift of tea to the King and Queen a few years later, tea-drinking became a part of daily life in Britain.

The American colonies were a little late to the party. The first public sale of tea in Massachusetts wasn’t until 1690. But we made up for lost time. Tea became the most popular beverage in the American Colonies by 1765. Then there was that little dust-up about a tea tax in Boston.

Iced tea is claimed by the Americans, but it created by Englishman Richard Blechynden during a heat wave at the St Louis World Fair in 1904.

And those wonderful little individual bags tea drinkers in the U.S. love? New York tea importer Thomas Sullivan invented them accidentally when he sent tea samples to his clients in small silk bags. Since the clients didn’t know what to do with the bag, they just dunked the whole lot in hot water, bag and all.

So—what'll it be? Tea or Coffee?

Tracy

 

Fires, Firemen, and Colorado

 Post by Doris McCraw writing as Angela Raines

"Perhaps the most heart-wrenching part of the memorial is the blank walls that you know will someday have a fallen hero's name." The author.

Fallen Firefighters Memorial
Photo property of the author

On a recent outing, I stopped by the Fallen Firefighters Memorial. I've visited this site before, but this time I thought about how many people were affected by a fiery disaster in the early days of the West. Even today, many people are impacted by fires. It takes a special person to run toward a burning building. Many train for this job today, but how about in the early days?

Names on the Wall
Photo property of the author

In June of 1873, the City of Colorado Springs 'trial run' of one of the fire companies. On a Saturday evening around bedtime the church bell, which was the signal for a fire was rung. Below is a clip of the results of that exercise.

As some towns grew, there would be various sponsored 'Hook & Ladder" companies that covered different areas. There was both friendly and fierce competition between the various companies. For some companies, you had a subscription for services. 

As the West continued to grow, many times the first buildings of a new town were of wood. For some the fires that occurred came close to wiping the town off the map. In the Pikes Peak Region both Cripple Creek and Victor, during the heyday of mining, had substantial fires. Within one week Cripple Creek had two back to back fires in 1896. Victor felt the flames in 1899.

Photo property of the author

In the cases of most fires, the responders rush toward the disaster. We've seen many such 'heroes' in our own lifetime. Perhaps that's why such Memorials are both awe-inspiring and sobering at the same time. The names of many of the people who fought those fires in the early days are lost to us but their efforts and sacrifices have given us a legacy to build upon. Their stories are the true stories of heroes. 

Photo property of the author

 Victor Fire Article - Colorado Historic Newspapers

 Overview of Cripple Creek Fires

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

Dying for a Craze

Dying for a Craze

C. A. Asbrey

Cartoon from Punch's Almanack, ‘The Trial-for-Murder Mania’, satirising the public’s appetite for crime and execution as a form of entertainment, 1850.

From the early 19th century broadsheets and periodicals became much more affordable, and a cheap form of entertainment was born. These publications gave the public topical informal, royal gossip, shipwrecks, disasters, and trials. Anything gruesome or salacious sold, so the various publications vied with one another to get the scoop on the latest crime, often with lurid pictures to drive home to the readers that theirs was the one to buy. That meant pushing murders to the front page, not only creating a craze for the genre, but it spawned a number of crazes on their own. One of the first to get this kind of treatment was the murder of Maria Martin (pronounced the old English way - Mar-eye-a, not the Spanish way). Maria was a molecatcher's daughter who eloped, dressed as a boy, to marry farmer William Corder after giving birth to an illegitimate child. She disappeared, and the killer tried to convince her family she was fine in a series of letters. Her stepmother had a dream in which the ghost of Maria told her where to look for the body, and led locals to Maria's grave in the red barn. Maria had been shot. By the time the body was found, Corder was married to someone else and had moved to London. Corder was tracked down, and brought back to Suffolk, tried, and hanged in Bury St. Edmunds in 1828. The child died, and there are suggestions that the child was murdered too. 

The story had everything, murder, sex, cross-dressing, supernatural guidance, pregnancy outside of wedlock, lust, and love ending tragedy, so it's no surprise that it produced more than just a newspaper story. A melodramatic play was written, which was even turned into a movie in 1936, but at the time there were plays, puppet-shows, songs, and even a range of pottery featuring the barn and the main players. The Barn itself became a tourist attraction, so much so that the barn was stripped by souvenir hunters and no longer stands.

An intriguing post-script to the murder suggested that Maria's stepmother, who was only a year older than her stepdaughter, was able to lead people to the burial spot as she was implicated in the murder. She was alleged to have been having an affair with Corder, and only came up with the 'dream' when he married someone else, and she became jealous.      

The mania for murder and public execution became so pronounced that the satirical magazine Punch ridiculed the trend in 1850. 

Franz Muller

Another craze which came from a public obsession with murder was the fashion for men to cut down their hats in 1864. When banker's clerk Thomas Briggs had the dubious distinction of being the first man murdered on British railways, the clue left behind by the murderer was a cut-down hat. Muller had cut down the original hat to make it fit better, and then pasted the felt back on, making a much shorter version. 

This hat was published in the newspapers, and the version caught the public imagination. Before long, milliners were turning out versions of the hat, which sold in their thousands. This new hat was called a 'Muller Hat', and people talked about their hats being 'Mullered'. Before long 'being mullered' became a slang term for being murdered. It wasn't long before it was adapted to being drunk, as 'being slaughtered' was another slang term for being inebriated. To this day in the UK 'being mullered' still means being drunk. 

It also left us with something else. The cut-down version of the hat became more popular than the original version. In the UK the hat was always called a bowler hat. In the USA it is called a Derby. 50,000 people attended Muller's execution.

The original version of the Bowler Hat, also known as a Derby in the USA. 

An example of a craze being brought to an end by a murder case relates to Maria Manning. Maria and her husband, Frederick, were convicted of murdering her former lover, Patrick O'Connor. She was a Swiss former-ladies' maid with delusions of grandeur. Always fashionable, and impeccably turned-out, she saw herself as the equal to any of the ladies she worked for. The newspapers paid a lot of attention to describing everything she wore throughout the trial. The haughty woman seemed to reflect the glamour of a character in a book, more than real life, as female criminals tended to come from the more down-trodden sections of society. They rarely had looks any woman would aspire to, but Maria Manning was different. The salacious details of the murders also satisfied the public desire to live vicariously, whilst living with buttoned-down respectability of Victorian life.  

Dickens actually based the character of Mademoiselle Hortense, the bad-tempered, spiteful maid in Bleak House on Maria Manning. Wilkie Collins also referred to her in The Woman in White, but the fashion for being fuller-figured had changed by that time (eleven years later). It no longer represented affluence, and was something which had more negative connotations. Referring to Count Bosco a character says, "Mr. Murderer and Mrs. Murderess Manning were not both unusually stout people?"  

When Maria Manning was hanged on 13th November 1849, she chose to ascend the scaffold black satin, drawing many comments in the press as to how beautiful she looked. One quote said, “beautifully dressed, every part of her noble figure finely and fully expressed by close fitting black satin” Popularity for the fabric plunged at that point, but there's no truth in the myth that women refused to wear it at all.

A new study, conducted by researchers at Queen’s University Belfast was published in the Journal of Economic History, which shows a fascinating connection between a Victorian craze, and the rise of organized crime. In the 18th century James Lind discovered that vitamin c was a cure for scurvy. That started a demand for the fruit which only grew as time went by. The Victorians made drinks with it, baked with it, used it as a beauty treatment, and even cleaned with it. Although sour, the tumbling price of sugar made it more palatable, and suddenly it was everywhere. Lemonade, lemon bars, lemon cake, and the new lemon meringue pie are just some of the things which suddenly became more commonplace.

And Italy was the main source for lemons.

In 19th century, and early 20th century, the US Italian families held a virtual monopoly on the citrus growing industry, as fruit grown in California and Florida was seen as inferior to the Sicilian fruit. The US market share for the fruit was only a few percent in the 1880s, had reached eighteen percent in 1900, but took until 1920 for them to hold seventy-five percent of the market share. In the 19th century, that meant that most of the world demanded a product produced in the south of Italy. Bourbon-era land reforms meant that land ownership was broken up into fragmented sections, and the greater the demand for a product in the hands of many small land-owners, meant a greater need for private protection for all those small farmers.  

I'm sure you can see where this is going, but the study analyzed data from a parliamentary inquiry in 1881-1886 on Sicilian towns. It looked at the causes of crimes in 143 towns, and found that a mafia presence was strongly related to the production of oranges and lemons.

Those providing that protection, soon found out that it helped to show these small famers that they couldn't do without their tender mercies, and a protection racket was born. It didn't take long for the successful criminals to begin knocking off their rivals, and venturing into other areas. Very soon they were acting as middle-men between producers and exporters. They also immigrated to the new world, often using their legitimate business as a cover for all kinds of criminal enterprises. The mafia was born, and prohibition really turbo-charged their growth.

So the next time you tuck into your favourite lemon treat, just remember how something so sweet it helped bring us the Mafia.

      

Excerpt

“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.”

“Aaargh—”

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

     

What's In A Name? by Elizabeth Clements

 

What’s In A Name? by Elizabeth Clements

FYI: Due to unexpected circumstances this weekend, I could not finish my blog and instead stayed curled up under two blankets and a space heater. It truly made me appreciate the pioneers who left their comfortable homes in the East to travel for weeks across unfamiliar lands and establish new settlements on the prairies. My city started as a tent city when the Canadian Pacific Railroad was being built to connect the country from ocean to ocean. Thus I'm reposting one of my very first blogs from October 2018 in which I describe some places out west with unusual names.

Have you ever looked at a map and been amazed by the plethora of interesting names for places, provinces and states? It’s interesting to see  the influence of native history in the naming of many places because they were the first inhabitants of the Plains. This is probably one of several reasons why I used the beautiful Cypress Hills as the setting for my book, Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon, because it was referred to as The Thunder-Breeding-Hills by the tribes that roamed the plains leading up to this vast forest. When the Métis fur traders arrived, they called the forest les montagnes des Cypres, which was mistakenly translated into English as Cypress Hills. There are no cypress trees here, mainly pines and aspens.

For the purpose of length, I shall restrict my blog to a few places in Alberta and Saskatchewan that derived their names from translations from the numerous First Nations people that roamed the western prairie provinces and American northern western states. Firstly, though, I thought I’d mention that my country’s name, Canada, was given by the French explorer, Jacques Cartier. The Huron-Iroquois word “kanata” means a village or settlement.

In 1535, two Aboriginal youths told French explorer Jacques Cartier about the route to kanata; they were actually referring to the village of Stadacona, the site of the present-day City of Québec. For lack of another name, Cartier used the word “Canada” to describe not only the village, but the entire area controlled by its chief, Donnacona.  It wasn’t until 1791 when Canada became the official name of our country.

Alberta was a territory until it became a province of Canada in 1905 (together with Saskatchewan) and was named in honor of the fourth daughter of Queen Victoria—Princess Louise Caroline Alberta. Famous Lake Louise in Banff National Park is also given part of that royal name. Saskatchewan derived it’s name from the Saskatchewan River, which the indigenous Cree people called Kisiskatcfhewsani Sipi, meaning “the swiftly flowing river”. This same river flows through Medicine Hat but is called the South Saskatchewan River.

When Sir John A. Macdonald decided Canada needed a transcontinental railway, the Canadian Pacific Railway was constructed. Many communities sprang up along the railway line. This was the case with Medicine Hat, which is the English translation of Saamis (pronounced Sa-Mus), the Blackfoot word for the “eagle feather headdress worn by medicine men”.

(tent city 1883 and railroad winter quarters)
Medicine Hat, the city where I live, has several legends for the origin of its name. The most popular version (and which I prefer) is that the Cree and Blackfoot had an altercation in the fork of the South Saskatchewan River. During the fierce battle, the Cree medicine man lost his headdress in the river; hence it became known as the place where the medicine man lost his hat.

Another legend  of this community’s name is about a mythical mer-man  river serpent named  Soy-yee-daa-bee—the creator, who appeared to a hunter and instructed him to sacrifice his wife to get mystical powers, which were manifested in a special hat.” I much prefer the official one that was chosen about the Cree medicine man.

There are a few interesting historical facts about Medicine Hat. Rudyard Kipling visited  Medicine Hat circa 1905 and immortalized it by saying it’s a city with “all hell for a basement” because the city is situated over a massive reserves of gas. That’s why our city is nicknamed The Gas City.

After the 1988 winter Olympic Games in Calgary, Alberta, that city was going to dismantle the large teepee they had built for the Games. One of our local citizens and art collector heard of the plan and initiated the purchase and it was dismantled and re-erected here. It was named the Saamis Teepee and is officially the tallest teepee in the world. Here is an award-winning photograph my son, Nick, took of the teepee during a lightning show. 

 Moving a little further west in the province, we have Calgary, known for the greatest outdoor show on earth, the Calgary Stampede. When the North-West Mounted Police (NWMP) established a fort there in 1875, it was originally called Fort Brisebois after a NWMP officer but in 1876  Colonel James Macleod renamed the post Fort Calgary for Calgary Bay in Scotland. The Scottish name is derived from the Gaelic words Cala-ghearridh, meaning pasture by the bay.

Part of the Blackfoot Confederacy, Lethbridge is located in the south-west corner of Alberta just a few miles from the Montana border and nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. This area had many names, such as Coal Banks because of its rich deposits of coal. The Blackfoot called it Aksiiksahko or Steep Banks. It was renamed to Lethbridge in honor of William Lethbridge, a wealthy businessman.

However, besides coal, Lethbridge had a much earlier role when in 1869 the U.S. army outlawed alcohol trading with the Blood nation in Montana. Not to be outdone, two men set up a trading post near Lethbridge, selling mostly alcohol, river water, chewing tobacco and lye. It eventually became nicknamed Fort Whoop-Up. The NWMP took over, bringing law and order to the area. The fort stands today as a popular visitors’ stop and sometimes in the summer there are performances of the RCMP Musical Ride.

           Reesor Lake, Cypress Hills, Alberta side  Photo Nicholas Clements Photography

Moving east into southern Saskatchewan, we find the historic town of Maple Creek, which is just a few miles from the bulk of the Cypress Hills (which is the setting for my historical romance trilogy). For centuries this area was the winter quarters for the various tribes because of the abundance of firewood in the Cypress Hills. In 1875 the NWMP built Fort Walsh in the Cypress Hills, operating there  until 1883 when it closed the fort and set up barracks in Maple Creek because the railroad had arrived that spring. When the railroad reached the area, the crew quartered here and as was often the case, a tent town sprang up, followed quickly by families that left defunct Fort Walsh and resettled in this growing village. The community was named for the Manitoba maples that grew along the creek. It’s proximity to the Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park makes it a popular tourist center for exploring the park a few miles south.

Regina is the capital of Saskatchewan but prior to 1905 this flat area was  called the District of the Assiniboine and was the buffalo hunting ground of the Cree. The Cree only killed enough buffalo for meat and used the hides for clothing and covering their teepees. They piled the bones into stacks because they believed the buffalo would return to visit the bones of their herd. They called the area Oskana-Ka-asateki or “the place where bones are piled”. Sadly, the European buffalo hunters came along and shot the buffalo by the thousands for their hides. This is a picture of the bones being loaded onto rail cars for shipment to a bone factory.

When the fur traders came to the area, they dubbed the site Pile of Bones. The community grew, especially when homesteaders could claim 160 acres of land for ten dollars. In 1882, the town elders felt the settlement should have a more dignified name and decided on Regina, this being the Latin word for queen. Regina also became the headquarters for the North-West Mounted Police for many years and remains the training ground for the Mounties to this day.

An unusual name for a community was derived from the Cree who called the saskatoon berry misâskwatômina, which grows in abundance in the area. When the railroad created a settlement, they called the village Saskatoon.  In 1883 the Toronto Methodists wanted to escape from the bad influence of alcohol in the city and decided to set up a “dry” community. They travelled via the newly constructed railroad to Regina and then made the rest of the journey by horse-drawn cart. However, they were unable to buy a large tract of land to suit their needs, and simply integrated into the community.

Another unique name for a city is Moose Jaw. The Cree called it moscâstani-sîpiy which means a warm place by the river, perhaps because of the Coteau Range that shelters the valley. The beginning of the word, moscâ sounds a bit like moose jaw. Also, some people felt the nearby creek was shaped somewhat like a moose’s jawbone. The Dominion government decided to make Moose Jaw a major terminal because of the abundance of water supplies for their steam engines.

In 2000 I was fortunate to spend a few days in Moose Jaw to visit the wolf caves that were used by cattle rustlers and horse thieves in the late 1800’s. What a treasure trove of history and landscape. I actually stood (in the pictured wolf cave) and breathed in the suffocating smell of dirt. No wonder I  could draw on my reaction to this experience and use it in Beneath A Desperado Moon, Josh and Molly's story in my Prairie Moon trilogy.

Another experience—unforgettable—was visiting the underground tunnels in Moose Jaw. For decades the city officials denied these tunnels existed until one day a city bus fell through a cave-in and the secrets were exposed. One section of the tunnels shows where Chinese hid from persecution and worked for a pittance. The living conditions affected me so deeply that it compelled me to write a poem about it and that history bothers me to this day. There is another tunnel tour that explores the prohibition days and some very interesting tales, especially a female bootlegger who took unusual risks. I so have to go back to Moose Jaw and area.

When we left Moose Jaw after four days of exploring, we drove west toward Eastend and the rolling terrain where Sitting Bull once camped out after Custer’s last stand. This inspired yet another story idea and several chapters which I would love to finish this winter.

There are so many more Canadian places of interest, but I have to rein in my enthusiasm for fear of making you go cross-eyed from so many words. Thus, I just selected a few names that are associated with the “taming of the West”. If a vacation brings you to Canada, this is just a sampling of really neat places to visit and explore. I’d love to hear about some of the names of places that resonate with you.

Excerpt Beneath A Horse Thief Moon 

They emerged from a stand of pines. Moonlight whitewashed the coulees, etching in stark relief every bush and tree. The only sound in the night was the shuffling of their horses and the crickets in the bushes.

A horse thief moon, Sara had called it. In his mind’s eye he relived her unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from his body. Smoothing her callused palms over his heated skin before pressing her breasts against him.

Lovely, lonely Sara.

Damn it, forget her. She's dead and buried.

Anger at his thoughts made him speak. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Yuh'll see.”

Silence fell, broken only by the soft thud of hooves and the dog padding inches from his right stirrup. An owl's hoot drifted through the darkness. Occasionally, he heard a small creature scuttle in the dry grass.

Abruptly, the prairie plunged into another ravine. Through the trees below, the dark shapes of outbuildings huddled like orphans in the moonlight. The unmistakable odor of a barnyard drifted on the breeze. Horses nickered. A calf bawled. Water murmured and gleamed in a silver path around the curve of the coulee while the moon played hide and seek in the rustling leaves of a giant cottonwood.

Surprise kicked him in the gut. “Where are we?” But he already knew.

“Never mind.”

The old Cranston place. Coincidence that an outlaw had brought him to his quarry, a train robber's hideout? Not by a long shot. But why? Was Billy smarter than I’ve given him credit for?

Chase gritted his teeth. I’m gonna get you, Billy. You’ll pay for the grief you’ve caused Big Jake. His eyes narrowed when a low-roofed log cabin loomed in the moonlight. I'll outwit you and take you in. Maybe even tonight.

“Hold up,” the outlaw snarled. His rifle never wavered from Chase. “Git down. Slow-like.”

Chase frowned, staring through the deep shadows cast by a huge cottonwood. Why were they stopping here by the outbuildings instead of the cabin? And where were the lookouts? The fine hairs on his neck and arms prickled. This isn’t a gathering of outlaws. It’s an execution. But why here instead of back at my camp?

 

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17898781.Elizabeth_Clements

https://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Horse-Thief-Moon-Prairie-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B07BHQNBDW/ref=as_li_ss_tl?

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https://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Fugitive-Moon-Prairie-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B07SZ4LHVS

Link for Diamond Jack’s Angel/Hot Western Nights Anthology

https://www.amazon.com/Western-Nights-Karen-Michelle-Nutt-ebook/dp/B07T9F21B5/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_img_3?

New Release -- Yolanda’s Hope (The Barlow Wives Book 5) Kindle Edition by Agnes Alexander

 

Yolanda Stinson has had her eye on handsome Paxton Barlow ever since they were kids. Though she’s four years younger, she’s always hoped that one day he’d notice her. When the Stinson ranch is attacked and Yolanda’s father, Daniel, is severely injured, Paxton steps in to help—and to protect the Stinson family and holdings.

But Paxton is shocked to realize that Yolanda is all grown up—not the little girl he remembers from their growing-up days. And his beautiful neighbor has the power to make Paxton see red when she looks at another man! A confirmed bachelor, now the youngest Barlow brother is confronted with a decision he never thought he’d have to make.

With more attacks on the Stinson ranch, Paxton vows to get to the bottom of what’s going on—and as the sinister plot unfolds in unimaginable ways, he and Yolanda find themselves in a desperate situation.

But some hard losses bring Paxton and Yolanda together in an unbreakable bond of trust and love. As they fight together to hold on to the legacy Yolanda’s father worked so hard to build, can they also hope to make something of their own? Can Paxton promise Yolanda a future, and be the answer to YOLANDA’S HOPE?

EXCERPT

Yolanda Stinson sat the plates on the table and glanced at her mother. “How long do you think it will take Daddy to finish in the barn?”

Shirley turned from stirring the green beans in the big black iron pot on the stove. “I don’t think it’ll take him much longer. That’s why I want to go ahead and finish up dinner. He’s been up working since dawn because he intended to go to town. He didn’t take much time to eat breakfast. I wanted to have everything ready when he comes in because I know he’s going to be tired and hungry.”

Before Yolanda could answer, the thundering sounds of horses came through the open kitchen window.

“What in the world could—”

Shirley hadn’t finished her sentence when several shots rang out.

Yolanda ran to the back door and jerked it open. Her mother was on her heels.

One of the riders turned his gun toward the house and fired. The bullet hit the post holding up the porch roof. Before he could get off another shot, Shirley jerked Yolanda backward and slammed the door shut.

“Mama, what—“

“I don’t know, Yolanda. Shut the window, and I’ll get the rifle. I don’t know who they are or what they want, but we have to keep them out of here if we can.”