On Writing Barkerville Beginnings by A.M. Westerling

Some books are easier to write than others and I don’t know why that is. I write historical romance so maybe it’s the volume of research. Or maybe it’s uncooperative characters or a matter of simply not being in the right frame of mind to craft that particular story at that particular time. I struggled a bit with my books A Heart Enslaved and The Countess’ Lucky Charm but Barkerville Beginnings was such a pleasure to write that it almost wrote itself. Let me explain:

As far as the heroine, Rose, I chose her name because that was the name of my accountant’s former receptionist and I liked the historical feel of it. I imagined Rose as a single mother because I wanted to make things as tough for her in Barkerville as I could – single moms were frowned on in those days. I can’t remember how I came up with Harrison’s name but I knew he had to be a Viscount as my tag line is “From Vikings to Viscounts, Join the Adventure, Live the Romance” and up until Barkerville Beginnings, none of my books had a viscount.


As an author of one of the Canadian Historical Brides books, I had to incorporate real people so I did. ie Wa Lee, who gives Rose a job in his laundry, Judge Begbie, (known as “The Hanging Judge” and doesn’t that tweak your interest!), Madame Fannie Bendixon, the hotelier and saloon keeper (who may or may not have run a brothel!) who also offers Rose a job, Dr. Wilkinson who treats the injured leg of Rose’s daughter Hannah, and Wellington Delaney Moses, the barber, because Harrison needed a shave after being out in the gold fields. 

To ensure historical accuracy of the book, I worked with one of historians from Barkerville, a lovely lady by the name of Caroline Zinz, and I hope one day to meet her. 


I’ve been to Barkerville so I wanted to mention the lonely grave you drive past on your way in from Quesnel. Here is Rose’s impression as she passes by:


The wagon slowed as the road neared a fenced grave, enough that Rose could read the headboard: Charles Morgan Blessing.


“Lonely spot to be buried,” Harrison commented and he doffed his hat as they drove past.


Rose nodded. “It is.” A chill tiptoed down her back at the forlorn sight, a reminder of the fragility of life in this wilderness. She craned her neck for one last glimpse before the road twisted away.


I was also quite taken with the wooden sidewalks so of course I had to mention those as well:


Looks like we’ve arrived,” said Harrison as a cluster of buildings came into view. Once again the mules, sensing the end of a long day, picked up their pace and the wagon bounced and rattled down the last little bit of the Cariboo Trail.


Rose hadn’t known what to expect but her first view left her numb. This was Barkerville? The town that gold built? This jumble of wooden, mostly single story buildings tottering on stilts alongside a wide, muddied creek? Surrounded by steep hills stripped bare of trees? How unattractive, brutally so.


The road through town was in poor shape, rutted and puddled with patches of drying mud. In consideration for pedestrians, raised wooden walkways fronted every building like planked skirts. Rose could only conclude the creek must flood frequently. Her poor boots, already soaked through once since embarking on the trip, would certainly be put to the test here.


The closer they came, the more her heart sank. What had she got themselves into?”

Here I am on Barkerville's Main Street and you can see how high the sidewalks are raised because the street used to flood quite frequently.

As an author of historical romance, it’s my job to place my readers in the proper time frame and I hope I’ve accomplished that in Barkerville Beginnings! 

Would you like to read Rose's, Hannah's and Harrison's story? You can find Barkerville Beginnings at your favourite online store here: https://books2read.com/u/bQB6Mv


Or in print at your favourite book store. :) 

First Nations Pipe Ceremony over Okanagan Lake

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Union of the Sacred Pipes ~

Reposted to honor of fellow author John Wisdomkeeper, who could use all of your thoughts and prayers during his time in hospital. 

In the hills around Okanagan Lake Valley is a place called Bear Creek.  As I hiked through these rocks, the echo of fast rushing water vibrated like thousands of flutes playing to the rushing waterfalls that all flowed into one giant lake.  One day I mediated on a large rock in the middle of the Creek - the only access being to jump a log jutting into the water.  Opening my eyes to father sky, I watched crows chase a golden eagle.  The eagle flowed upward in ever expanding circles, and the crows followed, but the eagle flew higher and higher.  A fine mist rose from the rocks and powerful medicine herbs waved in the gentle breezes.  The sweet smell of Lavender and the pungent tang of pine filled the air.  When I stopped and listened closely I heard the footsteps of the ancestors passing through the canyon - stepping from stone to stone - as they followed the game trails.
 

The People and The Spirits are not gone. Clothes have changed, 

but the soul of both is constant.

One day a white brother came to visit from Texas - a police officer - who loved the culture as I do, and wanted to share the pipe with some of the Native brothers.  We climbed a trail through a ravine of rocks to an old sacred clearing.  At the entrance to the clearing--a circle of rocks covered by moss and surrounded by juniper and Saskatoon bushes--we stopped and I offered tobacco, asking the ancestors to welcome our visitor.  The winds stopped, and a peace settled over the clearing, inviting our entrance.  We sat together, on the ground, waiting for some brothers who were pipe carriers to join us.

 One by one each brother showed up from his journey.  One brother traveled from a rain dance ceremony; another brother came from the sweet grass fields in Montana; a third brother came late, joking that as he had traveled the shortest distance he came on Indian time.  My friend from Texas offered a medicine bundle from his home region and asked for prayers for his family.  He explained that he had spent a lot of time studying and learning the culture of the Cheyenne, the Apache, the Arapaho and the Hopi nations, and to him it was a great honor to come to this sacred ground where lay the bones of ancestors who had traveled here before, and join with this group of pipe carriers for other Native nations.

Together we sat down in a circle and opened our medicine bundles.  Father sky peered over our circle like a bright blue blanket streaked with orange and fringed with white clouds. Wisps of white floated around us as the spirits of many ancestors, gathered around our group as we prepared to share the sacred pipes.

We began by filling our smudge bowls with sage and sweet grass, which we lit and fanned with eagle feathers until the smoke drifted towards Father Sky.  Each of us reached into the smoke and brushed our arms and legs and heads with smoke to cleanse the hardships of our travels and prepare ourselves for the ceremony.  The pipe carrier facing the North started the traditional song of offering to the ancestors, and one by one we joined into the song, lifting our voices to invite the ancestors to travel across the spiritual realm and join us in our ceremony.  As one, we bowed our heads in the circle, sharing prayers for our loved ones and the great nations, asking for blessings for all mother earth’s living and spiritual beings.  We offered prayers for the animal kingdom, the plant world and the mineral world.  The pipe carriers lifted their pipes, pointing the stems to each of the four sacred directions requesting blessing for the circle, and then the pipes were lit. As we passed the pipes, we shared the stories and teachings of our ancestors, and laughed together at the antics of trickster and the pranks he had played on our friends and elders over the years.

When we fell silent, each of us settled into the peace and harmony that had fallen over the sacred circle.  In the darkness the voices of a thousand crickets hummed in harmony, and beyond our circle the coyotes howled to the night spirits.  Grandmother moon rose into the sky and shone her light over our circle.

When the pipes were out, we packed our medicine bundles.  Standing, we joined hands, offered prayers for a safe journey for the travelers, and returned to each a hug of friendship and a common wish for a future reunion of the pipes.

John & Friend

John Wisdomkeeper

Sus' naqua ootsin'

Read John's personal story: 
Along the Red Road

Juliet Waldron's historical novels:

http://www.julietwaldron.com/

A Teaser from Barkerville Beginnings by A.M.Westerling

In today's blog post, I'm sharing the beginning of Chapter Seven of Barkerville Beginnings. In this scene, single mother Rose Chadwick has just arrived in Barkerville with her daughter Hannah and is looking for a place to stay even though she has no money.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“May I help you, ma’am?”A clerk leaned against the chest-high desk tucked into the corner of the hotel foyer. The man, elderly, with a straggly beard and wearing a rumpled white shirt, appraised her from top to toe. His gaze slid down to Hannah and disapproval stiffened his lip.

“Yes.” She grabbed Hannah’s hand, proceeding to the desk with what she hoped was a purposeful air. “I need a room for the night.”

“Only a couple of rooms left,” he grunted. “You’ll have to share the bed, though.” He pointed to Hannah. “This is a fine establishment. Last bunch we had in here, the kids raised a ruckus, running up and down the stairs, shouting, that sort of thing. People were none too pleased, I can tell you. She better behave or else.”

The hotel must be reputable if other families stayed here, thought Rose. “My daughter is very well behaved.” She clasped her hands, wondering what the man meant by “or else.” It sounded dire.

The clerk continued. “Our guests expect only the best here. That means no noise.” He shoved the register towards her, along with a worn wooden pen and an inkwell. “Fill this in. Rate is seventy five cents per night. Up front.”

“What?” Rose couldn’t believe her ears. The clerk wanted payment now. Not only did she not have a cent to her name, she didn’t even have the chance to have a few days to look for work. She made a show of fishing through her pockets. “I, er, seem to have misplaced my purse. Could I bring you the money when I find it?”

He frowned. “Awfully convenient to lose your purse.”

“Please, I’m sure it’s somewhere in my carpet bag.”

He folded his arms. “No payment, no room.”

Desperate, Rose searched for the words that might persuade him to change his mind. She twiddled the braided gold band on her left hand. The wedding ring that had belonged to her mother. She looked at it, swallowing hard then pulled it off. “How about if I give you this for now? It’s gold. When I find my purse, I can pay you properly.”

“If it’s money you want for gold, go to the assay office down the street. Or the bank.” He pointed.

“Please, my little girl is hurt. We’ve had a long day. Could you give us the night? I’m sure I can find my coin purse. In the meantime, you can hold on to my ring.”

He looked at her long and hard, as if scouring her face for any hint of dishonesty. Rose waited, stomach churning like a swirling eddy on the Fraser River.

“All right. It’s not regular, mind, but you seem like a nice lady. I’ll expect to see you in the morning.” He tucked the ring in his vest pocket.

“Thank you.” At least they would have a comfortable place to sleep tonight. She dipped the pen in the inkwell and signed her name. It was only a hotel room.  Why did it feel as if she signed away her life? Maybe it was the veiled threat he uttered over Hannah’s behaviour that unsettled her so.

Or maybe it was the fact she had no money and had just given away her most cherished item.

“What brings you to Barkerville?” Business complete, the clerk became chatty. He patted the pocket where her ring nestled.

“I, er, we’re meeting my husband. He’s a miner,” she added.

He cocked his head. “A miner? Didn’t he know you were coming?”

His implication was clear – what kind of man wouldn’t arrange for accommodation for his own family?

“No. I wanted to surprise him. We’re not supposed to come until later in the week but the trip upriver went a lot faster than expected.” Another lie that flew easily from her lips. She would have to figure out how to redeem herself, she thought wryly. Bald faced lying was not a particularly good habit to cultivate.

“Anyone I know? A lot of miners come here when they’re in town.”

Rose froze and she stared at the man. “Er, Chadwick. Mr. Harrison Chadwick,” she blurted. Goodness, now how did Harrison’s given name slip off her lips so easily?

The clerk’s eyes narrowed and he tapped a gnarled finger on the desk. “Hmph. Can’t say that I know him.”

Because he doesn’t exist, thought Rose. How soon would it be before anyone realized that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Intrigued? Are you wondering how Rose manages to wiggle her way out of this scrape? You knew the sales pitch was coming *wink* and find it at your favourite online store HERE.

Aurora Borealis Tonight!

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Back in the 50's when I was a kid, the U.S. was just in process of building its interstate highway system. My parents had money back in the day--my dad was one of those "Mad Men"--and good at his job--so every winter Mom and her annual bronchitis and me went for a month or so to the West Indies. It was good for her health; it was also very cool thing that no one else did. In those days, the West Indies were truly paradise. There were no high rises, no mobs on those pristine, pre-plastic white beaches; it was our Island in the Sun.

One March, while flying home, we had to lay over in Bermuda because of a huge winter storm that hit the coast. The next day we flew into what was then Idlewild airport (JFK now). First adventure, we got stuck upon landing, in a snow bank, and the next plane coming in flew right over us in order to use the runway to land. We were sitting there, feeling the pilot trying to move the plane--this after a very rough flight--when the other guy roared over our heads. We already had stuff in the aisles and people screaming, and that sound, of another plane approaching, set off more noise. I didn't scream; I was too busy puking into one of those brown bags.







Then, after finally reaching the terminal, Mom and I found my Dad, who'd spent the night there waiting for us. He, of course, had to return home after two weeks and get back to work, leaving Mom and her yearly bronchitis, and me, in the West Indies. He'd driven from Syracuse, NY the day before to pick us up.  Now we'd have a long haul home, through a snowed in world.  The Thruway A.K.A. I-90 was still in pieces of construction, so we'd drive through the city until we could connect with one of the sections which was complete and open to traffic. With all the snow and the blowing, we found ourselves following snowplows more often than not. Progress was slow.

The sun had gone down. We were still not home. Dad drove and drove. Mom was asleep in the back seat. The snow was in high banks all around us, glittering, while a northern high drove it in long moving snakes across the road, the surface of which began to vanish as fast as the plows passed. That night was the single time I've seen Aurora. She appeared as the post storm high moved in. Pale red curtains that moved and shook across the sky; my Dad explained what they were.






We were absolutely alone on the nighttime highway, so he stopped the car and told me to roll down my window. White snow! Black sky and stars like jewels! Hallucinogenic blobs of red--and a faint crackle and hiss, as if we could hear those heavy curtains shaking! I've never forgotten it, this other worldly phenomenon. I'd love to see Aurora again before I die, and I know that the NWT, about which I've written, is THE place to go to see this wonder.  So I'm adding to my "dream trip" list--because today, Aurora tourism is now a "thing" in the NWT.






Circumpolar folk stories are very similar. There are lonely spirits trying to speak to the living; there are spirits of animals and ancestors, some of them dancing, some playing games. Europeans told of the  shields of the Valkyries gleaming, or saw a rainbow bridge to Asgard where dwelt their ferocious Gods. The Inuit tell of walrus skull games played by the dead. The Athabascans speak of ancestors who are ever present, looking down upon their children. Northern people world wide gazed into the aurora filled sky and made stories to explain what they saw.

"The ends of the land and sea are bounded by an immense abyss, over which a narrow and dangerous pathway leads to the heavenly regions. The sky is a great dome of hard material arched over Earth. There is a hole in it through which spirits pass to the true heavens, only the spirits of those who have died a voluntary or violent death--and Raven--have been over this pathway."

We know more about what causes Aurora today than was known in my childhood. We've discovered that this phenomena is caused by our solar wind, constantly blowing from our own mighty local star, when it collides with Earth's magnetosphere. In a way, the original inhabitants of the land are correct--the "hard material" arched over Earth is our planetary shield--and we can see the lights dancing as the solar winds strike.


NWT has plenty of aurora tourism available for the hardy traveler, from Yellowknife to places north, closer to the magnetic pole, where the magic is most reliably to be seen. You can fly or snowmobile or travel in great ice road vehicles farther north; you can even, I read in my wishful thinking ravel brochures, sit in hot tubs and watch the skies, which has to be the height of blissful decadence. I hope to see Aurora again, before I check out, and NWT is clearly the place to go.

Coincidentally, tonight will be a good night to look out for Aurora, perhaps dancing in a cold clear sky over your fortunate head! If you are in Canada, keep a sharp look out! It seems that Old Sol has actually sent a Coronal Mass Ejection our way. Maybe I sensed Aurora coming, dreamer that I am, as I pondered what to write for Canadian Historical Brides...




~~Juliet Waldron
For all my historical novels:
https://www.julietwaldron.com

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The Mi'kmaq of New Brunswick

In my research for my novel set in New Brunswick, I came across the two main native tribes that lived there. I touched briefly on them in On a Stormy Primeval Shore, but they deserve a more in-depth introduction.

First, the Mi'kmaq people. Known as one of the original settlers of the Atlantic provinces, oral history (and archeological discoveries) suggest the Mi'kmaq have been in eastern Canada for over 10,000 years. The name is thought to mean "one of high ability." Other sources say it means "my friends." They refer to themselves as First Nations.

The men hunted and fished, and went to war to protect their families. Women tended the children, gathered herbs, and built the traditional wigwam. These homes are made of wood covered in birch bark. The people lived in villages, usually near water sources.
Men wore breechcloths (a skimpy garment that covered their privates) and leggings. The women wore tunics, long skirts and a peaked hat. They decorate their clothing with dyed porcupine quills, a skill they are famous for.

Traditional quill box

 
Chanting is another tradition, consisting of vocables (broken syllables) that express emotion rather than words with meaning. The Mi'kmaq language is part of the Wabanaki cluster of Eastern Algonquian languages.

Feathers are only worn in their hair during ceremonies. Bothe men and women wore their hair loose and long. White settlers complained, "I can't tell the men from the women."

The Mi'kmaq paddled in canoes, or traveled through the winter snow in sleds and snowshoes. The English word "toboggan" comes from the Mi'kmaq word for sled. Dogs were their pack animals in the years before colonists brought horses to Canada.

Traditional military coat, rear view. Courtesy Glenbow Museum/Museum of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia

When the French came in the 1600s many of the Mi'kmaq converted to Catholicism. But European diseases resulted in the death of half their population. Conflicts with the French ensued, though the natives worked together with the French in fur trade.

The British colonization of the eighteenth century brought about the slaughter of the French (Acadians) and breaking and remaking of treaties. The Mi'kmaq were pushed off their fertile land.
The English wanted to alter the indigenous peoples' way of life. Today the 'rights' of the Mi'kmaq are better protected, but their lifestyle is forever changed, their traditions usually limited to special  ceremonies.

View of a Mi'kmaq wigwam, a man, and a child, probably Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, photographed 1860. National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution, Photo NO. 47728.

To learn more about the Mi'kmaq please see the Canadian Encyclopedia link below. 

To find out more about the formation of New Brunswick in On a Stormy Primeval Shore, or to purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 
Source: Canadian Encyclopedia

What About Love by A.M.Westerling

February is the month of Valentine’s Day and love. By now, another February 14^th has come and gone but it’s got me to thinking. There are many kinds of love other than – cue the violins and enter Cupid - romantic love for a partner. We love other people in different ways. There’s the love between a mother and her children. The love good friends have for each other. The love we have for siblings and other family members, even the furry ones like my grand dogs, Tilly and Arlow.

But we can love inanimate things as well. A beautiful sunset. A walk on the beach. A favorite sweater. A good book. Then of course there’s the love of good food and I am firmly in that camp. Cooking to my mind combines a number of loves – love of preparing the food itself, love of good healthy eating, even the love of exercise because cooking usually means a lot of standing and walking around. I also love decorating the table because it’s all part of the experience. And in the end, the reward – sitting down to eat with cherished family and/or friends surrounded by a cloud of love. A while ago, one of my boys commented on the fact that most of our family pictures are of us sitting at the dinner table. I rest my case. 

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach but I think women appreciate fine food as well. In Barkerville Beginnings, one afternoon Harrison buys Rose and Hannah fresh bannock with huckleberry jam and they have a picnic beside the creek. I came across this bannock recipe and thought you might enjoy it. I've never tried making bannock, let me know how it turns out!

Ingredients

• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 Tbsp baking powder
• 1/4 cup butter, melted
• 1 1/2 cups water

Directions

1. Measure flour, salt, and baking powder into a large bowl. Stir to mix.
2. Pour melted butter and water over flour mixture. Stir with fork to make a ball.
3. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead gently about 10 times. Pat into a flat circle 3/4" to 1" thick.
4. Cook in a greased frying pan over medium heat, allowing about 15 minues for each side. Use two lifters for easy turning. May also be baked on a greased baking sheet at 350° F (175° C) for 25 to 30 minutes.

Recipe courtesy of: https://www.bettertogetherbc.ca/recipe

You can find Barkerville Beginnings at your favourite online store HERE. 

Wedding Memories by A.M. Westerling

My goodness, I had to haul out our wedding pictures to come up with ideas for today’s post and what a lovely trip down memory lane it turned out to be! My sweetie and I met in a ballroom dancing class at the University of Calgary. I took the class to learn how to ballroom dance, he took the class, as I found out later, to meet girls. Mission accomplished, I suppose, as here we are 40 years later and we’re still together. Our family has grown as we now have two wonderful sons and two lovely daughters in law.

We got married a week after final exams which meant a) we were broke and I had to beg Revenue Canada to get my tax return in time to fund our honeymoon and b) my mom did most of the wedding planning. We had a small ceremony, immediate family only, in fact the group was so small everyone ended up sitting in the choir loft of the church. Here I am on the way to the church with my dad.  

Our best man borrowed his parent’s car to drive us – honking the horn the whole way and I don’t think that’s done anymore – to the wedding dinner after the ceremony. Apparently confetti sprayed out of their heater for months afterward. 

Our reception was held at the Romeo and Juliet Inn (yes, that was the name and how romantic is that!) which no longer exists but at the time was quite the fancy place as they had a live band and dancing. Seemed appropriate, seeing as that’s how we met. Anyway, there was one other couple having their wedding reception there the same day – May 6 – and they stopped by to say hello and wish us all the best which of course we reciprocated. It would be interesting to know how their marriage turned out. Here is our first dance as Mr. and Mrs. 

We enjoyed a wonderful 6 course Italian meal but to tell you the truth, we couldn’t wait to hit the road for our honeymoon. We left the party about 10 and found out later my in laws shut the place down some time well into the wee hours of the morning.

We spent our first night in the Banff Springs Hotel, the same hotel mentioned in Brides of Banff Springs, Book 1 in the Canadian Historical Brides Collection. Much to our chagrin, we realized we hadn’t booked a double bed but instead had two twins. We pushed the beds together because where there’s a will, there’s a way *wink*…It was kind of a waste of money because we didn’t check in until well after midnight and we were on the road by 8 am the next morning. Ah, to be young and not need to sleep. We have since stayed at the Banff Springs to make up for our wedding night.

We were in such a hurry to cross the border we ended up with a $35 speeding ticket before we left Canada which meant we spent our first couple of days in the U.S. trying to figure out how to pay for it as we knew we would be away longer than 30 day payment period. This was before the days of on line banking so it took some scrambling on our part, not to mention a large chunk of our honeymoon fund.

Anyway, my parents lent us their car, a 1976 Pontiac Sunbird and we went on a 6 week road trip down to Scottsdale where friends of my husband’s parents let us use their condo for 2 weeks. And actually, last year by coincidence we ended up driving over the Navajo Bridge in Arizona which we remembered having done on our honeymoon but couldn’t quite remember where it was. It's closed to traffic now but you can walk over it.

Then we headed over to San Diego where we spent a fabulous evening at a piano bar and up to San Francisco where we treated ourselves to a delicious dinner on Fisherman’s Wharf. Then we worked our way back up the coast through California and Oregon which is still one of our favorite road trips.

We ran out of American money somewhere in Oregon and drove non stop until we hit the border south of British Columbia. Once we were back in Canada, we had $20 Canadian, enough money to buy a bit of food and a case of beer. Haha, priorities!

As a wedding gift, my husband’s grandmother gave us a Royal Copenhagen porcelain figurine of a couple dancing. 

Nowadays we'll dance occasionally, sometimes even in the living room when a good tune comes on and we can still rock it! The cover of Barkerville Beginnings shows Rose dancing with Hannah on Rose and Harrison’s wedding day. 

You can buy Barkerville Beginnings at your favourite online store HERE. It is also available in print on Amazon or through your local bookstore. 

My Crazy Greek Wedding

The wonderful Canadian Historical Brides series are all about strong women who forged a life in the provinces of Canada at various time periods.

For more info on ON A STORMY PRIMEVAL SHORE, thwarted lovers Amelia and Gilbert, see link at bottom of page.

Here's the story of my wacky Greek wedding. In 1975 I was in the navy and stationed in Nea Makri, Greece (the base is closed now).

NAVCOMMSTA NEA MAKRI

My fiancée, the handsome sailor I'd met on base the year before-George Parkinson-and I planned our wedding, but nothing happened as we hoped.

First, George was married though separated. Everyone shook their finger at me for dating a married man. But he contacted a lawyer back in Pennsylvania, his home state.

George and I did the unthinkable, we moved in together. My doctor told me to go off my birth control pills because they suppressed my ovaries, and guess what, soon I had a bundle of love on the way—and still no divorce in sight. It took a year for the divorce to come through.

I was six months along by now, but skinny enough to not show too badly.

Then Turkey and Greece attacked the island of Cypress, both wanting possession. America refused to take sides in the conflict. Greek students rioted over the American military being on their soil. Each morning we had to check under our car’s wheel wells to make certain no bombs had been planted. The US Fleet was ordered to evacuate Athens. I worked in the Message Center, and frightening warnings of attacks on Americans buzzed over the teletypes.

Greece closed the ports and airports, and George was trapped in Italy. He'd gone to play softball with the base team before the 'war' started.

In a panic, I knew I had to hurry and marry before my time limit was up for boarding a plane for home. Back then you couldn't fly after your seventh month of pregnancy. I was discharging from the navy and they'd assigned me my departure date. The clock was ticking.

Finally, the ports opened up and George made it back to the base. We had three days to throw together a wedding.

I ran to the captain's office to ask him to give me away, met with the chaplain for the service, and told all our friends the date to attend. It was mayhem but worked out. We married on May 12th.

Two days later I boarded the plane for home.

We have two sons, and two beautiful granddaughters. No fancy wedding, but a long marriage.

Next year we'll celebrate out 45th year together. And they said it would never last!

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

 

Surprising Facts about Barkerville by A.M.Westerling

At the height of the Cariboo Gold Rush, Barkerville was the largest settlement north and west of Chicago. Estimates put the population there as high as 10,000. Now what’s surprising to me about that is that even today, with the advent of paved all weather roads, motor vehicles and air travel, Barkerville is remote. It’s situated in central British Columbia between two major inland centres, Kamloops and Prince George. Once you reach Quesnel,(about halfway between those two) it’s still an hour’s drive east to reach the ghost town. Vancouver at that time had only a few thousand residents so picture how uninhabited the western part of Canada really was compared to now.

Imagine thousands of men and women traveling by paddle wheeler, stage coach, horseback, wagon, on foot, whatever means they had up the Fraser River and east into the mountains to reach a gold rush town in the middle of nowhere. The lure of gold was such that the Royal Engineers built the Cariboo Road, which some considered at that time to be the 8^th wonder of the world.  I posted a picture of it in my post last month but I'm posting it again - so much traffic traveled this road that today, 150 years later, you can still see signs of it. 

Another interesting fact I unearthed is that the men (mostly) and women who peopled the area were law abiding, peaceful citizens. They wanted law and order, they wanted a hospital and doctors. They wanted services such as restaurants, theatres, dancing halls and stores. At the end of the day, it was the merchants who provided these services that made the money, not the gold miners.

If you're interested in learning more about the Cariboo Gold Rush, this is a terrific website: 

www.cariboogoldrush.com

Barkerville Beginnings is Book 4 in the Canadian Historical Brides Collection. You can find it HERE at your favourite online store.

Find all the Canadian Historical Brides Books HERE at your favourite online store.

New Brunswick, forming a New Province

The most surprising fact I learned when I first began to research my Brides province of New Brunswick was that in the year I chose, summer of 1784, there was no New Brunswick. The long, stretched out colony was part of Nova Scotia.

When thousands of Loyalists (people still loyal to King George III) fled the American War of Independence, they were promised land and funds in this colony to the north still owned by Britain. The capital was in Halifax, many miles from mainland Nova Scotia. The Loyalists landed in the village of Parr Town on the Bay of Fundy. A place with a few traders and soldiers, and Fort Howe dominating a limestone hill above, the Loyalists began building shops, townhouses, and coffee houses.

Governor Parr, the governor of Nova Scotia, was considered too incompetent to manage all this new activity. The Loyalists demanded their own capital and their own colony.

Soon Parr Town was renamed Saint John, and the portion of Nova Scotia to the west of the Isthmus of Chignecto was partitioned off and renamed New Brunswick, after one of King George's many titles.


Flag of New Brunswick

The capital would later be moved up-river to a safer place, far from the bay where American raiders could attack, and called Frederick Town, soon shortened to Fredericton.

I incorporated the formation of this new province into my story. My heroine Amelia arrives in Parr Town, to marry a soldier she's never met, shortly before the declaration of New Brunswick.

Canada 1791

Novel blurb:

In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.

 

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Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

 

 

 

Why I Write Historical Romance by A.M.Westerling

It’s pretty simple, actually – I love history and I love romance. The love of romance is a slam dunk – who doesn’t love a Happily Ever After?! But what is it about history that’s so appealing to me?

I suppose my appreciation of history started with the fact I grew up on the Alberta prairies where most of the cities and towns are new by historical standards and were built within the last 150 years. Certainly there are native artifacts ie teepee rings, buffalo jumps and petroglyphs and pictographs that date from thousands of years ago but other than that, there simply isn’t anything old here.

Then the summer I turned 15, my family and I visited Europe. My grandmother’s 80^th birthday plus visiting other relatives in the Netherlands were the main reasons for the trip but my parents made sure we did a fair bit of touring. What an eye opening experience it turned out to be! I loved visiting the museums and old churches and it amazed me as I stood in these buildings that hundreds of years ago, people stood in the very same spot. What did they do? What did they think? How did they live their daily lives? I really felt a connection to the past.

We saw some glorious sights that trip like the Cathedral of Notre Dame and the Sacre Couer in Paris, and the palace in Versailles. One of the places we visited that really stands out for me, though, was the Castle of Vianden in Luxembourg.

There’s an opening in the middle of the solar floor that looks down into the main hall. I remember standing there while visions of beautiful maidens and gallant knights on horse back swirled through my mind. How romantic!

But let’s face it, there’s a lot to be said for modern plumbing, central heating and modern health practices. (Me visit a dentist one hundred years ago? No thanks!) However, you can visit times past through the pages of a book or a website and imagine how it used to be. 

I still love visiting historical sites. My long suffering sweetie has come along with me while I’ve checked out fur trading forts like Fort St. James in northern B.C, Fort Whoop Up in southern Alberta, and the hills of Custer’s Last Stand in Montana. We’ve visited Brigham Young's summer house in St. George, Utah, driven to old pueblos in New Mexico and visited Indian ruins in Arizona. 

Custer's Last Stand, the hill where he died.

Brigham Young's summer home

We've visited places in Europe too numerous to name, although I will share a couple. We spent a lovely day wandering through the Viking village of Ribe plus spent two nights in Falsled Kro in Denmark, a 16^th century inn (!) all in the name of research. Haha, now that was a tough job, let me tell you. *wink*

Falsled Kro

Researching my novels for me is a fun past time and I love how it gives me story ideas. For example, in A Heart Enslaved, the hero Thorvald plans to sell his slave Gisela and use the money to clear his name of a crime he didn’t commit. Through my research I discovered that in Viking society, criminals could pay restitution to their victims and therefore be cleared of any wrong doing. For The Countess’ Lucky Charm, I learned a bit about the North West Company and the early fur trade in Canada. In Her Proper Scoundrel, I discovered Bristol and its place in the slave trade. 

Find A Heart Enslaved HERE, Her Proper Scoundrel HERE and The Countess' Lucky Charm HERE  , all at your favorite online store.

Barkerville Beginnings was more personal for me as I’ve visited Barkerville a couple of times and I could really picture it in my head. As a living museum, the gold rush town really came to life and as I researched, I could place people and shops, hotels, etc. within the actual setting. 

Here I am on Barkerville's Main Street

Find Barkerville Beginnings at your favourite online store HERE.