Setting as Character--Council Bluffs, Iowa

When I’m preparing the background for a new story, I dig into possible geographic locations. I’m always looking for something different—a place that I don’t know much about and want to share with readers. My mini-version of a history lesson.

For my work-in-progress, a wagon train story titled JANA, I looked at the well-known places where pioneers gathered before setting out for their destinations in the far west. I’d already written about St. Joseph and Independence, Missouri, so this time I settled on Council Bluffs, Iowa. The first named Council Bluff (on the west bank of the Missouri River in what would become Nebraska) was the site of a meeting between Lewis and Clark and Otoe tribe in August 1804. This location was known for years by many tribes of the plains Indians and became a reservation in the 1830s. A mission was established to minister to the tribes.

1868 bird's eye view of part of Council Bluffs

In 1844, the Stephens-Townsend-Murphy party (ten families) crossed the Missouri at the location on their way to California. They were the first white party to cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains. In 1846, a large group of Mormons traveled to the site that briefly was known as Miller’s Hollow, named for Henry Miller who was the construction foreman for the Kanesville Tabernacle. By 1848, the settlement was named Kanesville and became the primary place to gather before the Mormon exodus to Utah. By 1852, the name finalized on Council Bluffs and the town was an official spot on the Emigrant Trail, as well as outfitting  travelers for the Pikes Peak Gold Rush.

Model built by Bill Whittaker on Wikipedia-Bertrand sank in 1864

The key to my choice as a starting location was the existence of a steamboat trade. In the years before the establishment of the Transcontinental Railroad (complete 1869), steamboats were essential for ferrying people, animals, goods, and railroad cars (until Council Bluffs was connected to T.R. in 1872 with the completion of a river-spanning bridge) across the Missouri River to Omaha in the land known first as the Missouri Territory and then as Nebraska when it gained statehood in 1867. President Lincoln proclaimed Council Bluffs the east terminus of the Transcontinental Railroad, and a gold spike marking Mile 0 is located at the corner of 21st Street and 9th Avenue. The home of Grenville Dodge, the renowned surveyor for the railroad, is a historic site.

This city was a true crossroads for people of various ethic and religious groups. Reading about its development gives the city an appearance of transition and short-term visits. Council Bluffs was referred to as 'the end of the east" because for a long time, people couldn't go farther west. I absorbed that sense of a town on the edge of civilization for my setting and had great fun naming some of the businesses. 

Blurb: 

Jana Lukyan is intent on traveling with Marco, her 16-year-old brother, to her aunt and uncle’s CA ranch. But her brother’s reckless behavior adds two saloon robbers to her party, with the pair threatening to expose Marco’s involvement. bounty hunter Rik Sanderson turns in the robbers at the nearest fort and is forced into pledging to oversee Jana and Marco’s safe delivery. Will the journey’s challenges pull them apart or force the makeshift family to cleave to one another for survival?

Preorder for a April 26 release on Amazon 

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Laramie…A Widely Popular Name

 

My recent release, Eveleen, is set in Laramie City, Wyoming, in the town’s early days. The word ‘city’ was added because so many other places (mountain range, peak, river, plains, Army fort, county, city) held that name and references to the town needed to be distinguished. The name derives from a French-Canadian trapper, Jacques LaRamie, who disappeared in a mountain range in the area in the 1820s. Hence, the name. Features named after LaRamie are only second to those named after Jim Bridger.

Laramie Peak courtesy Wikipedia

Grenville Dodge served as the chief engineer for the Transcontinental Railroad and was responsible for the initial layout of Cheyenne (1867), Laramie City, Rawlins Springs, Julesburg, and Dale City (all in 1868). A tent city sprang up on the Laramie Plains in early 1868 along the Overland Stage Route, in anticipation of the railroad coming through. Not far away to the south stood Fort Sanders. As was typical, supplies arrived at pre-determined spots, followed within a few days by the arrival of the crews building the tracks. Along with the crews came saloon owners and the ladies of the night who set up their tents, often for as short as a week before moving on. Mr. Dodge labeled the rag-tag settlements as Hell on Wheels* because no law enforcement was present in these gatherings of several hundred people.

from Carbon County Museum website

Possible because of the protected location of the high-plains town being surrounded by mountain ranges, Laramie City dug in roots and remained after the railroad builders moved west in May 1968. The first train arrived on May 4, and by May 10 when regular service was established, permanent buildings were already being built. Lawless and dangerous at first, the town struggled to find an adequate sheriff. The first mayor quit after six weeks because the other council members didn’t support him. The first marshal, “Big” Steve Long, also owned a saloon, Bucket of Blood. With his two half-brothers, he used harsh tactics to force people off their land, often through the challenge of a gunfight. By October, he’d killed 13 men.

My first story in the Rescue Me Mail Order Brides, Treise, featured an honorable lawman who took the job in 1869. I like to think the town was better for Paxon’s presence. In Eveleen, the hero is a dairy farmer, who I see as a settler of the Wild West.

*an acclaimed TV series of this name ran for five seasons starting in 2011

BLURB

Eveleen Murphy works as a maid in the house of a Philadelphia lawyer. Amiable and fun-loving, she is a favorite in the household. But when her employer’s younger brother moves in, she is confronted at every turn by his unwanted romantic advances. When her cousin’s in danger, she takes in Treise. The women make a plan to answer ads for mail-order brides in the small city. But when jewelry goes missing and Eveleen is blamed, she has to go on the run. With only one letter from a potential husband in hand, Eveleen sets out for Wyoming Territory.

Dairy farmer Bjorn Omdahl has been content to work the family dairy farm with his younger brother. Knowing after his twin’s marriage, Einar will move to his wife’s farm, Bjorn places an ad for a mail-order bride, hoping for an experienced farm woman. The first woman to reply is from the city, and he doubts the wisdom of his communication. When he’d faced with the woman’s arrival at his farm, he has to decide to move her into his home or fund her ticket home. With such a tenuous start, what hope does this relationship have?

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Much-Appreciated Research Source

 I’m grateful for several tools that allow me to research the settings for my favorite time period to write about--the last quarter of the 19th century. But the Images of America books have proven to be invaluable.

The current story I’m writing is set in Astoria, Oregon in 1876. From Wikipedia and the city’s website, I culled details about the city’s proximity to the Columbia River and the importance of the city being on the river to develop the fur trade that burgeoned in the region in the early 1800s. But if I hadn’t bought an Images of America book, I would never have learned about a unique feature of the city. I like making sure my stories contain as much realism as I can find.

Because of Astoria’s location at the confluence of two rivers and backed up to a range of hills, the town had limited space to expand. Houses and businesses sprawled along the river’s edge, and soon taking a boat to get from one side of the town to another was easier and faster than walking. Until pilings were driven into the marshy wetlands at the river’s edge. Streets were then built on top of those pilings, and in some areas, businesses were constructed on that wooden base.

In the photo above taken in the early 1870s, you can see the construction of such boardwalks. This feature adds depth to the story because of the sounds of people and horses walking on boardwalks over water are different from boardwalks over lands. Smells would be intense, especially at the west end of town where canneries were located. I’m still working on ways to include this unusual construction in my story.

Blurb for Ginger Cake by Glynna, book 7 in Old Timey Holiday Kitchen series

Baker Glynna Shaughnessy wants to bolster sales for her struggling bakery almost as much as she wants to revive her drab personal life. A baking competition in commemoration of the city’s incorporation offers a chance at making the shop’s name known…until she’s accused of cheating. According to the competition’s sponsor—a roguish man who sets her heart aflutter—Glynna can only remain a contestant if she invents a brand-new recipe…something she’s never done before.

Hotel manager Ritter Anton has six months to boost patronage at his grandfather’s Anton Grand Hotel. He accomplished success with the family’s Cheyenne hotel and he’ll succeed here then move to the next. The baking contest he invented sparks controversy with the entry of a baker who others claim has an unfair advantage. Ready to reject her, he can’t say no when the auburn-haired beauty pleads her case. How will he remain neutral as a judge when all he can think about is Glynna?

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Release Day for Perfectly Unscripted, Book 9 in Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs

Today I’m proud to announce the release of my second novella in the Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs series. Perfectly Unscripted tells the story of the younger sister of the heroine from my first book.

A fun fact from my research. During the 1870s a controversy was discovered about butter. Most people take this mild condiment for granted. But the 1878 America Dairymen’s Association annual report contained the record of a presentation made at a meeting about a company that was discovered in Chicago to be making butter from beef fat and shipping it to Europe as premium butter from a small town in England. Quite the scandal.

BLURB: Rilleta Northcliffe’s world has already been turned upside-down with her father’s arrest. While traveling to Colorado as a mail-order bride, she is traumatized by a gang of thieves. Only the steady green gaze of a stranger keeps her sane. Dairy farmer Wit Vanderveer wished he could have done more to prevent the blonde’s involvement with the gang. Safely in Jubilee Springs, neither can stop thinking of the other. Is the shared danger the lure between these individuals, or did Rilleta and Wit discover they have much more to offer one another?

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EXCERPT: Where is the southbound train? He had to get back to Jubilee Springs to handle the evening milking. Straightening to his full height, he looked over the majority of the heads of the milling crowd. The lines of passengers at the ticket windows were three or four people deep. He added himself to the back of the closest one and bit back a groan. Inactivity never sat well. Nor did time away from the land he’d worked so hard to improve and nurture. While he waited, he glanced around, interested at the travelers who appeared to come from all walks of life.

Outside, a black carriage with gold filigree accenting the doors drove up to the front curb of Union Station and stopped. The driver hopped down and jogged around the back of the carriage.

The matched pair of chestnut horses caught Wit’s eye. Nice form and confirmation, well muscled with luxuriant manes and tails. Someday, he’d add a matched pair for pleasure riding to his stable of Belgian draft horses. Someday.

The driver pulled open the side carriage door, and three well-dressed ladies stepped out in quick succession—a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. They moved toward the entrance with the driver bringing up the rear as he juggled several satchels and valises.

His gaze was caught by the slender blonde lady with ringlets that swayed and bounced with each step. Wide-eyed, she glanced in all directions, like she’d not traveled much and the comings and goings of the depot were as entertaining as a circus. For a moment, he lost sight of her through the narrow arched windows as she ascended the steps, even though he rose onto the balls of his feet. Then he spotted her silhouetted in the doorway and couldn’t break his stare. A small straw hat with a white ribbon perched on her head. The cut of her blue dress fit her figure well, and the full skirt swished along the polished parquetry floor.

A throat clearing from behind snapped his attention to where he stood. The line had progressed while he’d been occupied—more like gawking—with the lovely stranger. With one long stride, he closed the gap.

A hiss of brakes sounded followed by three sharp blares of a whistle.

Finally. Wit stepped out of line to check on the engine’s number. As he moved toward the conductor calling passengers for points south, he collided with someone who stepped into his path. The heady scent of lavender tickled his nose, and he reached out his free hand to steady her. “Pardon me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir.” A giggle sounded. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m anxious to find my train.”

The sweet sound, light and airy, rang like a tiny bell in his head. Wit wrapped his hand around a feminine elbow, thin enough his fingertips touched his thumb. Vaguely, he registered this woman was the same young one whose arrival he’d been watching. He looked down into a pair of bluish-purple eyes the color of a Rocky Mountain columbine that grew at the highest elevations of his meadows. When he finally registered the lady’s expression had changed from wide-eyed surprise to frowning concern, he released his grip and gestured his abdication of the right of way. “Please, proceed.”

The woman dipped a curtsey. “I’m obliged. Would you know if that’s the train to Jubilee Springs?” A hand covered in a lace glove waved toward the train. But her gaze roved his face, eyebrows winged high.

His heart stuttered in his chest. This lady is traveling to my town? Not used to being the object of female scrutiny, Wit shuffled his boots and nodded. “That it is, miss.”

“Thank you.” Then she turned and waved a hand. “Missus Millard? This train is the one.” She scurried to rejoin the other two ladies.

Within a few seconds, Wit lost sight of her in the passengers gathering around the conductor. Then he shook his head. Just as well. All his energy should be focused on streamlining the dairy procedures for optimal output. After moving through one car with no aisle seats, he claimed one in the next passenger car. A quick glance at the other passengers located the group of three ladies sitting together at the far end. All he saw of the blonde were the ringlets dangling below her hat. Again, not his business.

Blog Tour Tuesday--An Unlikely Marriage by Linda Carroll-Bradd

This week’s Blog Tour Tuesday features

An Unlikely Marriage by Linda Carroll-Bradd

Last week marked the release of An Unlikely Marriage, my second story in Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World. Secondary characters Torin and Nola from the first release, Laced By Love, are the protagonists in this novella. Not only did I get to view the wedding ceremony from a different viewpoint but I enjoyed delving into the relationship between the sisters. Instead of taking place in tiny Morgan’s Crossing, this story starts out with some familiar characters in Sweetwater Springs.

Blurb:

Helping injured cowboy Torin Quaid drive mustangs north provides a way for vaudevillian Nola York to earn a train ticket east—and get one step closer to her goal of auditioning for Buffalo Bill’s Wild West stage production. The temporary marriage is solely for propriety’s sake. Until disaster strikes, and the two must rely on each other—emotionally and physically—to safely reach Torin’s ranch. Will a marriage of convenience turn into more on a trail drive through Montana Territory?

Purchase Link:

Amazon:  https://amzn.com/B01J4R636Y

Excerpt:

Ten minutes later, all four adults stood in the show wagon’s middle aisle, and no one could move more than a few inches. Thankfully, the dogs were bedded down in their crates built under the cushioned settee that Cinnia claimed as her bed for the night.

Nola and Cinnia requested two minutes behind the sleeping area curtain to put on nightgowns. They wiggled and flopped like fish on a riverbank to slide off their petticoats, drawers, corsets, and chemises before slipping warm flannel gowns over their heads. Taking turns, they removed the pins from each other’s hair then plaited the lengths into single thick braids.

When she climbed down to put away her dress, Nola was careful to clutch the sides of her red gown close to her thighs. Wearing night clothes around males—no matter how sensible and opaque—sent an uncustomary flush to her cheeks. After opening the door, she glanced inside the tallest cupboard, normally filled to the brim with the special dresses of three performing women. The sight of the empty space was another reminder of tomorrow’s farewell. Her throat tightened. She draped the neckline of her rust-colored gown over the farthest wooden peg. Now all the dresses she owned could be unfolded from the storage drawers and hung in this cupboard.

From behind, a firm body bumped then steadied her. “Excuse me.”

The heat from Torin’s hand on her hip seeped through the single layer of flannel and branded her skin. Shaking her head at the nonsense of thinking he’d staked his claim, Nola held up her hands. “We’ve managed this before. What is the problem?” Her personal crisis was the thought of what would come in the next few minutes when she shared a mattress with her…uh, Torin. She couldn’t risk thinking of him as her husband—that would suggest a level of marriage they hadn’t agreed to.

Cinnia pointed between the two men. “They take up more space than you, me, and Dorrie did.” Moving behind Nic, she eased along the aisle to pull open a cupboard door and store her dress and underclothes. “Whatever clothes you men remove need to go into a cupboard. One of the secrets of living in harmony inside a wagon is tidiness.”

A deep groan sounded. Torin clapped his good hand over his heart and turned to look at her, brow wrinkled. “We’re doomed, my dear Nola, because I am a slob.”

“I’m not worried.” Nola scooted the dowels for the hammock to the edge. Then she flashed a smile over her shoulder as she climbed into the sleeping alcove. “I’m a great organizer.” Once on the mattress, she dove under the quilt and scooted to the far edge, near the hatch that led to the driver’s bench.

“Nic, grab the ends here. Nola says the dowels fit in grooves along the cupboard bottoms. This is your sleeping hammock.” With a grunt, Torin climbed up onto the bed and pulled the curtains closed. Silhouetted by lantern light, he curled his large body nearly in half to unfasten his outerwear. Mutterings accented each move, as using only one hand, he scooted his pants down his legs. A minute later, his jeans and shirt dropped to the floor with a thump.

At least, he’s wearing drawers and an undershirt. The pinch of unease loosened from her chest. She’d wondered if he was the type to wear a nightshirt. Since his mustang round-up involved sleeping along the trail, he probably had to be ready for anything as he bedded down each night. Nola breathed in the scent of the campfire clinging to their skin and hair. A scent she’d be experiencing over the next two weeks. Good thing, she liked outdoor smells.

Rustling and jostling noises came from the front of the wagon as the other two got settled in.

“Good night, Nic,” Cinnia whispered.

A whoosh sounded right before the lantern light disappeared. The moonlight filtering through the curtained window fell across their bed, making Nola aware of a much-bigger body occupying the other half, or two-thirds, of her mattress.

Too tall to fit the mattress length, Torin laid at an angle on his right side, facing the curtain. The quilt barely covered the top of his shoulder.

Probably the most comfortable position for his wrapped left wrist. His injury. Her thoughts stilled, and she bit back a gasp. In all the hustle of the wedding and setting up the camp, she’d forgotten to offer him willow bark tea. He’d had at least one cupful every morning and evening since they’d met. She levered herself up on an elbow, wondering if Torin was still awake and if she should offer to remedy the oversight.

A breathy snore was her answer.

One simple wifely duty, and she’d failed. An omission that boded ill for the next two weeks.

~~**~~

My first story in the Montana Sky Kindle World

About The Author:

After years spent in the administrative support field, Linda decided to exercise another part of her brain and write a novel. She loved reading romance and figured that’s what she’d write. Easier said than done. After years of workshops and RWA chapter meetings, she finally saw her manuscripts place in contests. Twelve years after her first writing class, she sold a confession story. From that point on, she couldn’t be stopped and is always pleased when her sweet-to-sensual contemporary and historical stories find homes.

With interests as widespread as baking, crocheting, watching dog agility matches, and reading thrillers by Swedish authors, Linda is the mother to 4 adult children and grandmother to 2 granddaughters. She currently lives in the southern California mountains with her husband of 37 years and their two much-loved dogs.

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