Blog Archives

I Speak My Mind and, Yes, That Should be Okay

Last week I let loose with some choice thoughts for what was happening in this Brett Kavanaugh fiasco. Talk about a smear train coming through and this man is standing on the tracks. BUT, that is not what I’m writing about here. I’m writing to express my SHOCK at how many people congratulated me on speaking my mind. Even other authors secretly contacted me to high-five me, lamenting that they don’t have the courage to speak up ON THEIR OWN FACEBOOK pages.

rev_girlMan, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to work in America. I mean, we are still the land of the free and home of the brave. We have our First Amendment rights. We speak our minds and that is supposed to be okay. FOR EVERYONE.

So, two things. First,  I don’t feel particularly brave or courageous when I post anti-Lefty things. I have carefully built my tribe on Facebook. If you are my friend, you are either conservative, a follower of Jesus Christ, inordinately polite in conversation, an #NRA member, a fan of #LastManStanding, or possibly all of the above. Therefore, Facebook is my happy place. Last week when I spouted off about the Kavanaugh smear campaign, I unfriended one person and gained EIGHT new friends in one day. (Now, we’ll see what happens here.)

But, second, I am WELL aware there is some risk. I don’t live in La La Land. When I post stuff on Facebook, I figure my biggest threat might be a liberal Facebook employee who decides to monkey with the algorithms and sink the posts. Yes, this could even happen at Amazon. I offend the wrong IT person and my books could fall off the edge of the world never to be seen again.

lms BUT, I also know that my God is still on the throne. If he wants my books to get out in the world, out they will go. Look at the success people like Tim Allen, Tim Tebow, heck, even Trump have had by believing in the values that built this country.

Heather_Blanton-Gun I still believe in freedom of speech, freedom of religion, the right to keep and bear arms, the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness. I also believe in discussing matters in a polite, friendly way. (Okay, my posts can be a touch sarcastic, but when I’m face-to-face, I’m ALWAYS polite.)

I will continue to speak my mind as A Lady in Defiance of the Left’s tyranny. And, I believe, so will most of you! It’s your right!

Who’s with me?

 

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I’d like to invite you to subscribe to my newsletter. I don’t talk politics there (well, not often), but we have fun, I keep you updated on important matters (like this movie option thing that’s happening), give stuff away, and let you know about new releases. I hope you’ll join me here.

 

 

I Don’t Pull Punches. Why You SHOULD (and SHOULDN’T) Sign Up for My Newsletter

Heathers_merc_black

Hey, have you signed up for my newsletter? Let me give it to you straight. Here’s why you SHOULD:

Newsletter subscribers get <FREE FREE FREE> 
  • Heather’s Haberdashery–ebook of loooong excerpts from SEVEN of my books
  • Monthly newsletters with:
    • Exclusive contests
    • Fun giveaways
    • Hints on my current work-in-progress
    • Scene and story X-Rays
    • A monthly profile of a REAL lady in defiance (like Annie Oakley or Agent 355)
    • And much more!

BUT, here’s why you SHOULDN’T sign up for my newsletter. You might not like:

  • Strong, sassy heroines
  • Men who are manly
  • Historical Christian Western Romance that entails the use of firearms, often in a threatening manner
  • Gunfights and fistfights
  • Politically incorrect but historically accurate language (but no cursing)
  • An inspirational story
  • A clear (but never heavy-handed) Gospel message
  • American values
28946358_10215120158704899_1748554081_o But if you are still in, hoss, all you have to do is sign up here and you’ll receive the FREE SAMPLE CHAPTERS (One file entitled Heather’s Haberdashery) and future newsletters.
Well, I’m off to see a man about a horse. Thanks for readin’. Hope you’ll sign up. God bless and happy trails!

 

 

 

Never Take A Whale Bone Corset to an Indian Fight

Doing research for my new book, I came across an amazing story of a woman with a steel backbone … and ribs to match!

Juliet Constance Ewing was born in Ireland, date unknown. On September 17, 1839, she and her brother, William G. Ewing, entered Texas as immigrants. And it was women like her who gave the state its reputation.

corset Juliet had the misfortune to suffer firsthand Texas’ change in policy toward Indians. Under the earlier leadership of Sam Houston, the Republic had few problems with the tribes, as he understood and respected them. His successor, Mirabeau B. Lamar, did not. He promised the extermination of the Comanches.

On July 18, 1840, Juliet married station manager Hugh Oren Watts. This same year, talks with the Comanches broke down and 35 braves were massacred by US troops. The tribe hit the warpath with a vengeance. Shockingly brutal attacks ensued, ending with the “Great Comanche Raid” that Texans still talk about today.

Just like Sherman would march through Georgia decades later, the Comanche thundered across Texas, burning, scalping, raping, and pillaging. When they attacked the small community of Linnville, where Juliet and William resided, the town was completely unprepared. Panicked, running for their lives, the townsfolk made a bee line for the boats in the bay, thinking to float out of reach of the marauders.

Only, William suddenly realized he’d left behind a gold watch. And went back for it. Juliet in tow. I don’t know which one was dumber.

William was killed and scalped. Juliet was taken captive. The Comanche spent most of the day pillaging the community, setting ransacked buildings on fire, and, no kidding, trying to figure out how to get Juliet out of her steel-boned corset.

Running out of time and exasperated by the infernal garment, the Indians tied Juliet to a tree and shot an arrow into her breast. Only, the steel ribbing and thick material slowed the arrow down enough so that it didn’t kill her. Merely lodged in her breast bone.

From his eye witness report, Robert Hall recalled, “A little further on I found Mrs. Watts. They had shot an arrow at her breast, but her steel corset saved her life. It had entered her body, but Isham Good and I fastened a big pocket knife on the arrow and pulled it out. She possessed great fortitude, for she never flinched, though we could hear the breastbone crack when the arrow came out.”

Ooooouch.

Clearly, Juliet was one tough customer. This should have been a big hint to her second husband.

She married Dr. James Stanton in 1842, but divorced him five years later – the first divorce in the new state of Texas. Oddly, the woman demanded nothing short of complete fidelity from her husband. He didn’t see it her way and for the disagreement, got to hand over to her the hotel the couple had opened. One of his better decisions.

Juliet’s third, and, thankfully, final, husband was a Dr. Richard Fretwell. They were married until her death in 1878.

I’ve no doubt Juliet was buried wearing her corset. Steel ribs to match her steel spine.


 

Check out my books below to find more ladies with the fighting spirit!

Dr. Quinn had it Easy Compared to “Doc Susie” Anderson

By Heather Frey Blanton
Copyright 2012 Heather Blanton

Follow me on https://www.facebook.com/heatherfreyblanton and
https://twitter.com/heatherfblanton

doc_anderson

Sometimes I write about the women who fought for this country’s independence in very real, sacrificial ways. Sometimes I write about women who fought the land and the times to settle difficult territory. Susan Anderson is definitely the latter.

Born in Indiana in 1870, she moved with her family to Cripple Creek Colorado at the beginning of the town’s gold rush. Deciding she needed more of a challenge than the rough and rowdy mining town could provide, her father encouraged her to attend medical school. In 1893, she entered the University of Michigan medical school. Little did she know how difficult the journey to put two letters behind her name would be.

She graduated in ’97, but while in school, was diagnosed with tuberculosis. The illness would plague her the rest of her life. She returned to Cripple Creek and tended to the miners there for three years, but the pretty, petite doctor was jilted by her fiancée in 1900. That same year she suffered the loss of her little brother.

In need of a change, she relocated her practice to Denver. Surely, the bustling, modern city would provide a steady flow of patients. Not. Anderson nearly starved to death. Patients were very leery of a female doctor, especially when there were already several male doctors in town. Frustrated, she moved again, this time to Greely, and took work as a nurse. How frustrating that must have been for this gutsy, stubborn gal. Probably the stress had something to do with her TB flaring up. Sick and weak, Anderson moved to Fraser, Colorado to recuperate or die. She breathed not a word of her vocation.

But word got out, as it always does, and her health improved. I wonder if the two events are related? At any rate, the citizens of remote Fraser were delighted to have a doctor. They didn’t care if she was male, female, or a different species entirely. Everyone from lumberjacks to ranchers to pregnant wives came to see her. She occasionally even treated a sick horse.

In her career as a doctor, “Doc Susie” was paid with everything from firewood to food. Cash was an extreme rarity and her living conditions reflected that. Nearly destitute, sometime around 1915 or so she was appointed the Grand County Coroner and the regular pay check helped ease some of her financial concerns.

She never owned a car but always found a way to visit her patients. Most often she walked, sometimes in hip-deep snow. Mostly, though, friends and family members of patients provided transportation. Anderson was not rich financially, but she earned an esteemed reputation as a fine rural doctor and diagnostician. Her life was not easy but I think that’s how she would have wanted it. She liked fighting for her accomplishments.

She conquered a frontier, both real and emotional, leaving behind a path for other women who dared to dream big. Anderson practiced in Fraser until 1956 then retired to an old folks home in Denver. She died four years later and was buried with her family in Cripple Creek.

Respect the lace.

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