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Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Sorghum


By Kristy McCaffrey



Sorghum is a type of grass consisting of 25 different species. Sorghum bicolor, thought to have originated in Africa, is believed to have arrived in the United States in the mid-19th century, and is an important worldwide crop.  The plants tolerance of arid climates has made it ideal in places like Arizona—sorghum requires less water than corn and generally produces better yields under such conditions.

Sorghum bicolor

Sorghum bicolor is used as a staple food worldwide, as well as feed for livestock (primarily in Texas, Kansas, and Nebraska, where insufficient rainfall and high temperatures make corn production unprofitable).

As a grain it’s gluten-free, making it ideal for bread, beer and other foods for people with celiac disease or gluten sensitivity. Another promising use is as a source of ethanol, an environmentally sustainable biofuel.



Sweet sorghum is any of the varieties of the sorghum grass that contain a high sugar content. Since the 1850s, it has been cultivated as a sweetener, mainly in the form of sorghum syrup, and is served with hot biscuits, cornmeal mush, grits, and on pancakes. As a cooking ingredient, it’s similar to molasses.

Sorghum can be substituted for wheat flour in a variety of baked goods due to its neutral, sometimes sweet, flavor.

Here’s a recipe for Molasses Sorghum Cookies.



Ingredients:
¾ cup softened butter
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 large eggs
¼ cup unsulfured molasses
1 ¾ cup whole sorghum flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 ½ teaspoons ground ginger
Raw, coarse, or sanding sugar (or white sugar) for coating

Instructions:
       Preheat oven to 375 degF. Oil or butter a large baking sheet.

     In a large bowl, mix together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and ginger. Set aside.

   In another large bowl, beat together the butter and brown sugar until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, then the molasses, mix until well blended. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Beat at medium speed until the mixture doesn’t stick to the bowl, adding more flour if necessary.

   To form each cookie, make a golf-ball-sized ball, and then flatten it between your hands. Dredge each flattened ball in the raw sugar.

      Place the cookies on the prepared baking sheet about 1 to 2 inches apart. Bake for 6-7 minutes. (It’s important not to overcook the cookies.) Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

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Monday, April 8, 2019

19th Century Bling ~ Watch Chains & Fobs


My maternal grandmother was a pack rat. We discovered this years ago when, at her insistence, the family began cleaning out her home and readying it to sell.

After three days of sorting, my sister, mother and I sat down to go through her jewelry boxes. The memories were fun – the bird and flower and dragonfly pins she always wore when teaching because her kindergarten and first grade students loved them. [The articulated owl was my favorite.] We found several cameos. And pearls, of all lengths. Seems GGG-Great Grandmother Grace loved pearls.

In a box marked “Keepsakes” we found hat pins and buttons and old marbles. And a watch fob. The card with it says it belonged to GGG’s father, my Great Grandfather Ole, a Norwegian wheat farmer from North Dakota.

The chain is nothing fancy but there is a bit of bling on it that brought a wonderful surprise. The square gold locket fob hanging from the center held an old photo of my Great Grandmother Julia.

The find got me thinking: what kind of bling would you find on a gentleman’s dressing table in the 1800s?

A fancy button waiting to be sewn back onto a vest. We found a few of those, military coat buttons mostly, carefully pinned to cards identifying the owners.

Cufflinks of gold, perhaps declaring the gentleman's membership in an organization like the Masons.

The most common bit of bling would likely be a pocket watch and chain, that extra little something that showed a man's taste, his position, and sometimes offered a glimpse into his life.

The pocket watch has been around since the 1500s. Originally a status symbol only the very rich could afford, by the 19th century most anyone who wanted one could buy one.

Attached to the pocket watch would be a chain, one end secured to his clothing, the other to the watch. Most commonly, the chain would hook through a button hole on his vest or coat, leaving the chain to drape across his middle to the pocket containing the watch. The chain was functional--it kept his watch attached to his person should it accidentally slip from the pocket--but it could also be jewelry.

My Great Grandfather's watch chain was made of human hair. I assume the chain was braided by Julia for Ole--perhaps it was a gift for him when they were betrothed. I can imagine him, all spiffed up and looking proud, with that chain and fob adorning his vest.

What is a fob, you ask? Fobs are medallions that would hang from the end of a gentleman’s watch chain. Their purpose was to help pull the watch from their vest pocket.

They could be made of the same material as the chain: gold, silver, hair, etc. Here's a good example - the fob is the small length of braided hair chain hanging by the button finding.

Do you see the loop at the end? From there the gentleman could hang almost any bit of bling he wished. The fob could display the family crest.

Or be covered with gold and jewels.

It could be a locket, like Great Grandfather Ole's.

Or perhaps a cameo.

There were Double Albert chains, named for Queen Victoria's husband, with a fob hanging from the center.

And the fob wasn't an exclusively male piece of jewelry. Women commonly wore very ornate little fobs such as decorated balls or baskets of flowers or lockets.

In Victorian times, garment clip chains were worn by women on the pocket of a blouse or waist band of a skirt and were worn by men clipped directly on the trouser pocket or vest pocket.

Women also wore their watches on long chains, or slides. The slide was a very long chain with a slide in the middle that could be adjusted to the length that looked best with the lady's garment. The slide itself could be engraved, or decorated with seed pearls or small gemstones.

Or perhaps she preferred to wear a pin.

The possibilities were only limited by the wearer's taste and financial means.


What's the most unusual watch fob you've seen?



Sunday, April 7, 2019

SERENDIPITY ??? #history #roadtrip

Post by Doris McCraw
writing as Angela Raines

Outside Fort Vasquez
By now, most everyone knows how much I love researching and writing about history. I even include events from the time period I write about in my fiction whenever possible. So where does serendipity fit in?

I was originally scheduled to present Helen (Hunt) Jackson in Fort Collins, CO on March 15, 2019. For those who may have missed it, we were the center of the 'bomb cyclone' blizzard of March 13, 2019. Due to weather we rescheduled that event to March 29, 2019. Of course, being Colorado we had snow that day, at least in the northern part of the state where I was heading. I made the trip before any snow fell, did the program and went back to the hotel room. ( I wasn't driving back that night.)


Instead of heading back down on Interstate 25, I took a side trip and returned on US 85 east of the Interstate on March 30, 2019.  Now here's where serendipity fits in. (Serendipity- the occurrence and development of events by chance in a beneficial way.)

Area just to the right of the white painted area was where
the kitchen in the original fort was located
On the way home, I stop by Fort Vasquez, now a visitor center, museum. The current building was partially reconstructed in the 1930s by the WPA. Article 1 here. I'd been there before, and had wanted to return but had been unable to. On the visit this time, there was a new museum curator who loved his job. Needless to say, we spent a good hour just talking about the new exhibit he was preparing for the public. (Yes, I was the first non-staff to see it. It isn't even finished.) I learned even more about the site of this first fur trading fort to be built in the area in 1835, three years after the beginning of the building of Bent's fort. It amazed me that trade goods came from all over the world, including the Far East. I wonder what life would be like back then? The people who traveled to these unknown areas had to have strong reasons. Their lives are the stuff of legends.

Tower at reconstructed Fort Lupton
Once I left the Platteville area, where one of the early women doctors was supposed to have had a practice, I headed south. Cruising along, I looked to the right and saw that the reconstruction of Fort Lupton had been finished. I pulled in and started taking photos of the outside. When I pulled around back, there were people there, although it was not open to the public. A lovely lady invited me inside and I was able to take inside photos. Turns out they were preparing for a private event, and the lady who invited me in was one of those who was instrumental in getting the fort rebuilt.

Interior - Fort Lupton
Fort Lupton, built in 1836, was about seven miles south of Fort Vasquez. (There were four trading posts withing fifteen miles of each other in this area.) For more history on Fort Lupton Brief History


Now I don't know about you, but these kinds of trips just make my day.

And just in case you wonder, I also write fiction. I enjoyed telling the story in "Angel of Salvation Valley" a story with a few ' hidden? ' supernatural elements.

Purchase here on Amazon
Here's an excerpt:

 "What do you say, Carson?" Luke asked with a smile.
Andrew 'Drew' Carson stared at the man. Here was the break he had been praying for, or would have, if he were the praying kind. He looked at the stone walls around him, inhaled the musty smell of decay. Not just the decay smell of the buildings, but the decay of a soul, of hopes and dreams. Three long years he had dreamed of leaving this prison. But the cost, it seemed high and Luke was too smooth.
"Why the hesitation? You want out of here don't you?"
"Of course," Drew answered, cautious of the well–dressed man opposite him. The differences between the two were striking. Drew knew he smelled of old sweat and dirt. Luke was polished, smelling of bay rum and another scent Drew couldn't quite place, but recognized from somewhere.

"Then what is the hold up, if you will pardon the term?" The question came with a slight smile, a quick wink.


Doris Gardner-McCraw -
Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History
Angela Raines - author: Where Love & History Meet
For a list of Angela Raines Books: Here 
Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here





Wednesday, April 3, 2019

Bill Pickett, An Extraordinary Black Cowboy by Sarah J. McNeal (Re-post)









Bill Pickett


Bill Pickett was born on December 5, 1870 to Thomas Jefferson Pickett, a former slave, and Mary “Janie” Gilbert near Taylor, Texas. He was the second child of 13 with an ancestry of African-American and Cherokee. He left school in the 5th grade to become a ranch hand and married Maggie Turner, once a slave and the daughter of a white southern plantation owner. They had 9 children together.

Pickett Demonstrating Bulldogging 




An extraordinary cowboy, Pickett invented the technique of bulldogging, the skill of grabbing cattle by the horns and wrestling them to the ground. Pickett had witnessed cattlemen using a trained bulldog to catch a stray steer. He figured, if the bulldog could do it, he most certainly could. He practiced this feat by riding hard, leaping from his horse, and wrestling the steer to the ground. I guess he mimicked the bulldog by biting the cow on the lip and then falling backwards. Kind of gross in my opinion, but the stunt changed over time into what is called steer wrestling which is still practiced in rodeos today, but without biting the cow’s lip. Thank goodness.




Bill Pickett A Star Of The 101 Ranch Wil West Show


Soon enough, Pickett became known for his tricks and stunts which he performed at county fairs. Along with his four brothers, Bill Pickett formed The Pickett Brothers Bronco Busters and Rough Riders Association. That’s a mouthful, for certain. His name became well known and synonymous with popular rodeos. He performed his bulldogging stunt as he traveled around Texas, Arizona, Oklahoma, and Wyoming.

I’ve talked about the 101 Ranch before because of two rodeo posters dated May 1901 that I found in my grandfather McNeal’s trunk. Well, in 1905, Pickett joined the 101 Ranch Wild West Show that featured famous cowboys like Buffalo Bill, Will Rogers, Tom Mix, Bee Ho Gray, and Lucille Mulhall. It wasn’t long before Bill Pickett became a popular member of the show and toured around the world and appeared in early motion picture shows in which he was known as “the Dusky Demon”. 







His ethnic background kept him from performing in many of the rodeos until he was forced to claim he was of Comanche heritage. In 1921 he performed the movies, The Bull-Dogger and The Crimson Skull.

He retired from the Wild West Shows, but continued ranching. In 1932, a bronco kicked Bill Pickett in the head. After lying in a coma for several days, Bill Pickett passed from this earth.






A headstone for Bill Pickett was erected beside the graves of Miller brothers who owned Ranch 101 at the Cowboy Hill Cemetery, but his actual burial place is near a 14 foot stone monument in honor of the friendship of the Ponca Tribal Chief White Eagle and the Miller Brothers on Monument Hill. The monument is also known as the White Eagle Monument to the local people and is less than a quarter mile north east of Marland in Noble County, Oklahoma.







Pickett was indicted into the National Rodeo Hall of Fame in 1971.

The United States Postal Service included Bill Pickett in its Legends of the West commemorative sheet which was unveiled December 1993. Bill Pickett’s family informed the post office they has made the stamp with the wrong image which was of Bill’s brother, a fellow cowboy star. The United States Post Office corrected the image and reissued the stamp in Bill Pickett’s honor October 1994.






The Taylor City Council announced in March 2015 that the street that leads to the rodeo arena would be named in honor of Bill Pickett.

It is always exciting to me when I learn of someone from such humble beginnings makes something of themselves and becomes an honored icon for others to look up to and emulate. Bill Pickett was such an icon.


To read more about Bill Pickett:

•           Hanes, Bailey C. (1977). Bill Pickett, Bulldogger: The Biography of a Black Cowboy. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. ISBN 0-8061-1391-X. OCLC 02632780.



•           Johnson, Cecil (1994). Guts: Legendary Black Rodeo Cowboy Bill Pickett. Fort Worth, TX: Summit Group. ISBN 1-56530-162-5. OCLC 31374075.



Diverse stories filled with heart






Tuesday, April 2, 2019

What the Butler Saw

What the Butler Saw

C.A. Asbrey



The popularity of shows like Downton Abbey, and Upstairs, Downstairs, has really thrust the role of domestic servants in the past into the public eye. The word butler derives from the old French bouteillier, and identified the cup-bearer or the person in charge of the bottles in large households. The Latin root is also at the base of the word butt. The buttery originally had nothing to do with butter but was the place for storing the butts. Over the years, the butler slowly rose to be in charge not only of the buttery, but also of the ewery (where the napkins and basins were kept) and the pantry (where the bread, butter, cheese and other basic provisions were stored). Eventually, looking after the valuable wine cellar became one of his principal duties. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the butler was head of the male domestic servants, in larger households sometimes the butler was given a whole suite of rooms dedicated to his various functions.

A butler doesn't come cheap. They earn a salary between $50.000 and $150.000 annually, plus benefits like room and board, a car, mobile telephone, 4 weeks annual leave, once a year airline ticket home, etc. For that package most butlers work long hours - an average of 60 hours per week or more. And they work hard. Not only do they manage all the household expenditure, the staff, hiring, firing, training, and the social protocol. They can also double as valet, waiter, personal assistant, and even body guard. In 2004 Buckingham palace announced that it was actively recruiting females for the role. However, female butlers are older than we think. The first mention of a lady butler comes from an 1892 book Interludes being Two Essays, a Story, and Some Verses, by Horace Smith.

While the quintessential stereotype of the butler is seen as British, the French actually invented the role, and the modern version exists more in the USA than anywhere else in the world. China, in particular, has embraced the status symbol which comes from having a butler, with demand for fully-trained staff up 35% on ten years ago.

This demand to have a butler as a status symbol isn't new. It is something the nouveau riche of the USA wanted in the 19th century in spades, and ambitious staff from the grand English estates found there was money to be made, along with a new freedom. They moved across the Atlantic to provide the service, and were happy to do so. The British class system was designed to keep people in their place, whereas the fresh New World offered social mobility and a new start. As in all things, the Americans took the role of butler and made it their own. The USA already had a tradition of butlers, not only from the rich immigrants, bringing European ways with them, but also from a legacy of slavery.

One of the first books written and published through a commercial U.S. publisher by an African American was by a butler named Robert Roberts. The House Servant's Directory, published in 1827, is a manual for butlers and waiters. The book generated such interest that a second edition was published in 1828, and a third in 1843. A modern reprint is available.

19th century American millionaire, Marshall Field, provides a good example of the difference between the American estate, and the British system. He never interacted with servants during his childhood on a large farm, which is different from someone in the English system. They often had a staff whose parents and grandparents had served their own ancestors. They often knew the intimate, higher-ranking staff extremely well, and they trusted them with their secrets. That loyalty was returned, as it meant housing and employment for their families in the long term. The phrase noblesse oblige encapsulated the unofficial system in which the landed gentry looked after their people, and in return, the people served them with a discretion the rich today could only dream of.

The trade off was that in the US system there was a chance for the servants to move up the social ladder, where their British counterparts were as rigidly fixed throughout the generations.       

Marshall Field
Marshall Field earned his wealth as a merchant. By 1870 kept six servants his Prairie Avenue residence. He was typical of the brand-new millionaires who emulated European aristocracy. The big difference was that 10 years later, not one of those servants remained; a new group of seven were recorded. Ten years after that, the census shows that the domestic help had dwindled to four and yet again, not one remained from the previous census. Based on historical evidence, we can expect that these servants quit or were dismissed far more often than every ten years, but probably only stayed in a residence for a year or two before moving on. His British counterpart tended to keep staff until they either married or retired. It was not unknown, however, for the best chefs, cooks and butlers to be poached by social rivals on both sides of the Atlantic.

Field’s staff on the censuses only ever included two Americans. The rest were Irish, Scottish, English, Canadian, Swedish, and Norwegian. Most Americans weren’t interested in attaching themselves to a wealthy family to make a living. Even the immigrants who were servants themselves, raised a second generation of Americanized sons and daughters who didn’t seek these kinds of positions.

While the staff in the British country homes stayed in these positions for generations, there are many indications that this was due to a lack of choice and opportunity, and not to a love of the work. The First World War brought a step change in the social structure, more variation in the kind of work available to women, and a rapid reduction in the general willingness to do as they were told by someone just because they were rich or titled. Under the new order, the rich found it increasingly difficult to get staff at all, let alone apply the kind of strictures the Duke of Bedford did when he demanded that all his parlourmaids be at least five foot ten. According to one employer:

A parlourmaid must have long arms in order to reach things on the table, and a housemaid should also be tall, else how can she put the linen away on the top shelves and wash the looking-glasses in the drawing room?  

The value of servants was calculated according to their physical characteristics, including height.  A six-foot Edwardian footman could earn ten pounds a year more than a shorter one. Handsome staff were more employable than their more physically unfortunate counterparts.

Mrs Panton, in Hints for Young Housekeepers, advised that servants’ bedrooms should be ‘merely places where they lie down to sleep as heavily as they can’; prettiness and comfort were wasted on them.

Joyce Storey, a bright working-class girl, whose desires for a better life truly encapsulates why people who went to the New World for a new life. She ‘swore a terrible oath’ as she scrubbed her employer’s coal cellar:

"This is the last time in my entire bloody life I will ever be on my knees with my nose to the ground, for I belong up there with my eyes to the light, and walking upright and tall."

A life in service became a stop gap in the United States. It gave new immigrants a roof and a wage until they found their feet, and built a new life. It was no longer the inevitable only choice. Service morphed and became a new kind of profession, and came with a friendly new confidence which looked the employer in the eye instead of quietly melting into the background. The way service was provided changed. It became a respected role, highly-trained, and skilled at its best, and it even became a valuable export to be emulated the world over.

America may have taken the butler and servants from the European model, but it altered the profession forever.




Innocent Bystander EXCERPT

A vacant-looking man with prominent yellow teeth walked into her field of vision, striding beyond the blinding sun and dragged her roughly from the horse. She had expected to be searched and had ruthlessly bound her body with bandages to try to flatten and conceal her breasts, but the man merely patted down her sides before turning his attentions to her jacket. He pulled out the pistol which had been loosely placed in her pocket and slapped his way down her legs. She was instantly glad she had foregone the Derringer she usually wore at her ankle. A concealed weapon was too risky.
“He’s clean.”
“Well, boy. It seems like you’re gonna get your wish, but if you’ve been messin’ with us and you ain’t Quinn’s kin, you’re gonna regret it. He don’t like to be messed with.”
Abigail felt her arms grabbed as she was roughly turned around and her carefully dirtied hands were bound behind her back, the rope biting deeply into her skin as it was pulled tight. They must have seen her wince as it provoked a chorus of laughter which rang in her ears.
“Looks like this life’s a bit too rough for you, sonny.”
 A thick, smelly bag was thrust over her head, obliterating the world, before she was lifted back onto her little colt and she felt herself led off to face the rest of the gang.

            

Monday, April 1, 2019

Part Two: Underground Tunnels and Wolf Caves by Elizabeth Clements


PART TWO: UNDERGROUND TUNNELS AND WOLF CAVES – Elizabeth Clements

Isn’t it interesting  what a chance encounter can lead to? Back in the 1990’s, a giant poster in a booth at the Medicine Hat Exhibition & Stampede drew my attention and the lonely-looking author seated at the table with a stack of her book. Most Stampede attendees are more interested in buying cowboy hats or candy floss than a book to carry around on the midway or while watching rodeo events. Being a writer myself, I had empathy for her, stopped to chat, and bought her book—One Hundred Years of Grasslands. It remains my favorite book of all my dozens of research books of Canadian history.

Marjorie Rohde Mason was born and raised on a ranch in the Grasslands region of southern Saskatchewan. The ranch has been in her family for over a hundred years and thus she had heard lots of stories passed down about the lawless days of horse-thieves and cattle rustlers in the Big Muddy badlands. The book is full of history and reminisces by pioneers of the area. One quote speaks volumes: “Most of the time, you could not tell the colour of the horses for mosquitos.” One chapter heading and photograph particularly intrigued me: wolf caves. I had to visit them.

Nineteen years ago we made that trip to celebrate the new millennium. The day following our tour of the Chinese tunnels in Moose Jaw (Part 1), we drove approximately 160 kilometers south to the hamlet of Coronach. As luck would have it, we were the only ones who’d booked a tour that day, so instead of being crammed in a passenger van with a dozen  tourists, we had the guide all to ourselves in the comfort of our van with her giving my husband directions. What a stroke of luck that was having her undivided attention! I took lots of pictures and notes, which I can’t find right now,  so I’m writing from nineteen-year-old memories, Marjorie’s book, and a little help from Google for pictures.

Many of the places our guide took us to were located on private land, under lock and key, accessible only through her. We wandered around a one-room schoolhouse where we saw old school desks,  a pot-bellied stove, lessons  written on the blackboard and breathed in the dusty air of the old building.  In my mind I heard the children’s voices reciting their lessons, imagined the teacher walking down the aisles checking their arithmetic, and glanced out the tall fly-specked windows at the two outhouses near the play area.

We visited an Indian burial site and ceremonial circles that were fenced off.  Two particularly interesting sites  displayed effigies of a large turtle and also a buffalo, each a pattern of carefully placed stones that have rested undisturbed for decades. “Dakota Siksika legends use turtles to represent wise and highly respected people. Buffalo were the “staff of life” for Indigenous people and this (buffalo) effigy is believed to be the only one in Canada if not North America.”

Then at last we left the main road and traveled along a gravel trail on private land to the old Giles ranch. I still remember the lonely, deserted feel of the weathered fence rails with no cattle or horses in sight, the heat blasting on my shoulders, and the stillness of the prairie with only the breeze whispering stories too low to hear. Our guide had keys to unlock the gate. I don’t recall a sign on the gate then, but apparently one exists now that warns “All trespassers will be given a fair trial and then hung.”  Friendly, eh?

We drove a little further, disembarked, and at last I gazed at the entrance to Sam Kelly’s caves. One cave was used by the outlaws and the other held their horses to keep them hidden from sight. The caves were originally occupied by wolves; outlaws enlarged them. (For the safety of modern-day tourists, the caves have been reinforced with wooden beams.) 

I ducked inside the bigger one used by the men and just stood there, eyes closed, and breathed in the cloying smell of dirt walls all around me. Imagined two outlaws hunched over a tiny fire, heating their coffee and beans while another outlaw kept watch above on the high bluff for any sign of the red-coated North West Mounted Police approaching. If so, he’d warn the others and they’d rush their stolen horses across the narrow gully and up the slope of Peake's Butte  and cross the International Boundary (49th parallel) just a few yards away. There was also an escape tunnel in case the "Redcoats" were to close.

This memory was used in the third book of my trilogy: Beneath A Desperado Moon which will be published sometime next year by Prairie Rose Publications. Reliving these memories, I may just want to go back and revisit that cave <grin>.

This area of the Big Muddy was the first point of the Outlaw Trail, which was carefully organized well over a century ago by Butch Cassidy and  Kid Curry (whose real name was Harvey Logan). Patterned after the successful efficiency of the Pony Express before railroads made the Express obsolete, Butch had set up relay stations all along the route from Canada to New Mexico for the convenience of The Wild Bunch. Butch arranged to always have stations equipped with fresh horses, food, and protection. There were “friendly” American ranchers all along the border and down through the western states who willingly helped the outlaws by keeping fresh horses at the ready. For more information about the Outlaw Trail in the Big Muddy area, check out this link: https://www.coronach.ca/outlaw-trail.html

The discovery of gold in Montana enticed not only the gold-seekers but also the building of railroads to transport the ore—and ruthless outlaws who were happy to relieve them of their gold and money. The drought of 1883 caused tremendous cattle losses; the price of beef went down and many cowhands were let go accordingly. Unable to find work, many of them drifted into robbing banks and horse-stealing to survive. If you can buy or rent the movie, Monte Walsh played by Tom Selleck, here’s the trailer to give you a good idea of a cowboy’s life herding cattle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0r0fBbTjEo8 .

The Wild Bunch outlaws were excellent horsemen and accomplished horse thieves. Although they were most noted for their bank and train robberies, one branch of the gang concentrated on stealing as many as 200 horses and driving them across the border, selling them, stealing them back and fleeing into Montana and North Dakota where they’d resell them again. The Nelson-Jones Gang, reportedly a part of The Wild Bunch, and Dutch Henry were known to do this quite successfully. 

In my book, Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon, the Billy Cranston Gang was inspired by the Nelson-Jones Gang that raided the border ranches, causing a lot of grief and hardship. Nelson was a tall, skinny red-haired, red-bearded man described as having sharp eyes as “cold as fish”.

In Montana, Nelson was known as a rustler and a killer and was never without a gun. One of the stories about him involved him boldly breaking a gang member, Trotter, and another prisoner out of a Montana jail in 1894. Seffick promptly joined the outlaws. Nelson’s gang created so much trouble that ranchers banded together and posted a $1500 reward each for Nelson and Carlyle, an ex-mountie turned outlaw, and lesser amounts for several other outlaws.

Charles "Red" Nelson (also known as Sam Kelly) eventually gave himself up in Plentywood, Montana, but due to insufficient evidence and because most shootings were considered self-defense, he was released. He (ironically) bought a ranch in the Big Muddy area and it was rumored he was periodically visited by former gang members. I love this little tidbit: “If the rain barrel was tipped a certain way it was a signal to visitors that it was not safe to be in the area.” He supposedly died in 1954.

Another outlaw in my novel is French Henri, whom I mentioned in my author’s notes as being patterned after Dutch Henry, an excellent horseman and bronc buster, but best known for being a horse thief in the Big Muddy area. After being kicked out of Dodge by Wyatt Earp, Dutch hooked up with a trail drive to Montana and proceeded to swindle his boss, eventually causing the man to go bankrupt. Dutch and his men would haze as many as 400 horses across the border, selling, re-stealing and reselling just like certain members of the Wild Bunch. His gang had some interesting names: Bloody Knife, Pigeon-Toed Kid, James McNab, Duffy, and Birch. With names like the first two, no wonder they were feared by the border ranchers.

There are conflicting accounts of Dutch Henry’s death. One story is that he was killed in Canada by the North West Mounted Police—twice! Another account says he was found dead in the Minnesota brush, yet a third report claims he was hanged in Mexico. Or did he marry and live peacefully in Minnesota until he died of a gunshot wound? This has stimulated some history buffs to play detective to solve the mystery. Check out this link for a little more history on Dutch Henry: https://www.coronach.ca/dutch-henry.html

The Big Muddy Badlands is an amazing narrow valley about a two hours’ drive south-west from Regina, Saskatchewan. It has amazing scenery, created by the Ice Age traveling through the area  millions of years ago and melt water creating all kinds of formations. Wind and rain also play a part in erosion of the cliffs and buttes. They also provide great hiding places for outlaw activity. On our last day we did some exploring on our own.

We traveled off the main roads onto a trail across the prairie to see Castle Butte, an amazing large sandstone and clay hill pockmarked with caves—perhaps wolf caves in the past?

It stands 200 feet high and is a one-quarter of a mile around the base. We didn’t climb it, but I saw all kinds of possibilities for this in a book. Apparently, some of the caves are narrow and deep so you take a risk exploring them. Years ago, when lost, people used the landmark to get their bearings again. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Muddy_Badlands

On our way home to Alberta, we headed west toward Eastend, south of the Cypress Hills to visit a friend. Along the way near Wood Mountain, we came across a small North West Mounted Police Museum but sadly after the Labor Day weekend, it was open only on weekends so we couldn’t go inside. Perhaps we’ll see it on our next trip. The mounted police had a base at Wood Mountain and had their hands full with whiskey smugglers and outlaws whipping in from Montana, stealing cattle and horses and escaping across the border again and avoid prosecution. All they could hope was to catch them in the act in Canada and incarcerate them.


There are lots of interesting, historic places to visit in western Canada that give you glimpses of our pioneer days, the difficult task the police force had to control the whiskey trade, horse-stealing and cattle rustling. I could only touch on a bit of that history. I’m glad you came along for the brief outing.


www.elizabethclements.com

Link for Castle Butte and pictures https://ibackpackcanada.com/exploring-the-big-muddy-badlands-castle-butte/

https://www.tripadvisor.ca/Attraction_Review-g3347603-d155807-Reviews-Big_Muddy_Badlands-Coronach_Saskatchewan.html#photos;aggregationId=101&albumid=101&filter=7&ff=329947225