Lone Star Sons Logo - Cover(This is part two, of the next Jim Reade – Toby Shaw adventure. Part one is here. Jim and Toby have been set to assist three agents of foreign powers who have come to Bexar, looking for something hidden away in a long-closed house, by a long-dead General with a slippery reputation. The third part is almost finished, and will be posted in a few days.)

“As you and Captain Hays may already have guessed, my real and my feigned purpose both have to do with the late General Wilkinson’s house,” Albert Biddle explained, as soon as they had strolled beyond the edge of the crowd and the reach of Bernard Vibart-Jones’ mellifluous voice.
“Something is hidden within; documents or artifacts of considerable value?” Jim ventured and Biddle nodded. “Do you have any idea what we – you – are looking for? Something large, or small – papers don’t take up much space. If the house is like the other old Spanish houses of Bexar, there will not be much in the way of furniture.”
“Documents and letters,” Biddle affirmed. “The old man was a distant relative of mine by marriage. He died at a good old age, which perfectly astounded those who knew him best. Never won a battle or lost a court-martial, died rich, and in bed. It’s been suspected for years that he was blackmailing … certain people and a government or two, with whom he associated over the years, by holding on to proof of embarrassing peccadillos.”
“Certain people?” Jim’s eyebrows lifted. “Such as?” When Biddle replied with a short list of names – men of an older generation, all well-famed and of good repute – Jim whistled in astonishment. “Yes… I can see the worth of ensuring his silence.”
“It’s not just the men,” Biddle said unhappily. “It’s the good name of the nation, too.”
“Likely more than one nation,” Jim observed – Ah, that had surprised Biddle, at least momentarily, but then Biddle nodded.
“Credible,” he murmured thoughtfully. “The old general spread his nets very wide indeed; how many nations, then? Or would you be indiscrete in telling me?”
“No,” Jim answered, deciding to put all his cards on the table. “There are two other men making inquiries; an Englishman and a Spaniard. Captain Hays has given me wide discretion in this matter … for reasons of diplomacy, my government desires that all three of you find whatever it is that you are looking for in the Casa Wilkinson, do whatever you wish with it, and leave Bexar quietly and without causing an international ruction. That being understood, I will help you as best I can. Deal?”
“Deal,” Biddle answered. “I must admit that you Texians get down to brass tacks faster than practically any other Southren gentlemen I have ever dealt with. It’s quite refreshing.”
“It saves time. I still don’t quite grasp – why all the interest now?”
“Because everyone else is interested,” Biddle answered; he looked thoughtfully at Jim. “I did procure the keys to the Casa, for a brief inspection upon my arrival. The caretaker took them back almost at once, and has not permitted me access since; a most unpromising prospect for a search – almost no furniture at all, only bare walls and floors.”
“A caretaker?” Jim took a moment to accept that intelligence. “I hardly think any care of the place has been taken at all. Who is this assiduous caretaker – I was not given that information,” he added hastily.
“A great lump of a muleteer named Gomez, who lives in the house next to it. It seems that his aged grandmother was once the housekeeper there. Gomez has taken himself off to parts unknown, likely taking the only key with him.”
“I have sent a scout to look at the lay of the land,” Jim answered. “He speaks Spanish well – he rooms with a local family when we are in Bexar. From the stories, it seems that someone else has been able to get inside and search. I’d like to know how they did it, if not with a key.” Jim snapped his fingers, struck with a sudden insight. “The Spaniard, Don Esteban Saldivar; Captain Hays told me that he is also a recent visitor curiously interested in the Casa, to the point of taking rooms with the Gomez family. If there is a common wall, I would bet that he has found a way through – and that Gomez has gone away in order to keep you out while Don Esteban searches at leisure. These places are made of unbaked mud brick covered in plaster. It would be a simple matter simply to tunnel through …” Jim found himself walking faster in his excitement. He and Biddle had now gone the length of the Plaza, past the brooding dome of San Fernando, and back towards where Soledad Street led into the plaza.
“Let us walk towards the Casa – and see what my trusty scout has found.”

Without haste, they strolled into the narrow canyon of Soledad Street, the walls of mud-brick and plastered cedar-log jacal-huts rising at either hand, as the sky darkened overhead. This was the old part of town, where most houses had been built as sturdy as fortresses, nearly windowless on the side looking onto the street – and those which did have windows were as heavily barred as if they a prison. Only now and again did the amber of a candle or lamp lit within them cast a glow into the street. Music from an out-of-tune piano floated in the evening air from one direction, from another the sound of a melancholy guitar. The darting shadows of swifts flashed briefly across the sky.
“It is very different from Hartford,” Albert Biddle mused. “Almost a foreign country – is a foreign country, indeed.”
“But home to me,” Jim answered. With a start, he realized that it was true; Bexar was the place that he always returned to over the last handful of years, between the wide-ranging assignments given to him by his captain; here were the colors brighter, the food tastier, the water clearer, the sun in the sky brighter and the stars in the night sky sparkling ever more brilliantly. They walked on a little way, picking their footing carefully through the ruts and puddles, and piles of horse-dung in the uncertain and erratic light. Even being in town foxed Jim’s night-vision abominably, and he was about to suggest to Biddle that it was too dark to really see the lay of the land around the crumbling Casa Wilkerson, when he was galvanized by a scream – a woman’s shrill and panicked scream from somewhere ahead. Heedless of puddles, horse-apples and other hazards, Jim ran towards the source, with Biddle following closely.
In the light-limned oblong of an opened door, a woman stood, crying out in Spanish; a body huddled at her feet just outside the door.
“What has happened?” Biddle demanded, as the woman continued – it sounded now as if her horror and distress had merged into indignant complaint.
“The poor fellow has been beaten,” Jim answered, “and left at her door – my god!” The light from within the house fell across the prostrate figure of Toby, groaning and covered with mud and blood. “It’s Mr. Shaw – the scout that I sent… I can only guess that he found something.” Jim knelt next to his friend and helped him to sit up. “Brother – what did you find? Who did this to you?”
“I didn’t see,” Toby answered indistinctly. He spat blood from his mouth. “Two men, I think. I thought I saw something in the shadows – I looked toward it, and someone hit me from behind.” He winced, squinting as if the light from the doorway hurt his eyes. “Then they took turns hitting me. James, I do not think that any bones were broken – I think they took it amiss that I was here…”
“Then that someone had better get damned used to it,” Jim answered. “Help me with him, Biddle – carefully! I’m gonna take it personal, now. I wonder …” He thought perhaps he should keep his supposition to himself, but Biddle shook his head and affirmed, “Couldn’t have been Vibart-Jones, he’s still on stage. And Senor Don Saldivar was still on the other side of the square when we walked into this street.”
“Either one of them may have hired their own ruffians to do the dirty work,” Jim answered, and unshipped his hesitant command of Spanish, “Senora, podemos entrar y tienden heridas de este hombre?”
“Si, si!” the woman answered, standing a little aside from the doorway, as the two of them guided Toby’s uncertain steps through it and into a small and cozy room, lit with a single lantern hung from a metal bracket over the cooking fireplace – the old-fashioned kind most often seen in the oldest houses in Bexar. In the warmest corner of the room, an elderly person lay propped upon a rough cot, so tiny and shriveled, so wrapped in layers of robes and blankets that it was difficult to tell with certainty if the person was a man or woman. The person’s eyes were milky and unfocused, without color at all, and a querulous voice called from the midst of the bundle. The woman of the house answered, in a voice which sounded at once soothing, but with an underlay of irritation. The elderly person sank back into their blankets, as if reassured, a shriveled turtle retreating to the cozy shelter of its shell.
“Senora Gomez,” Toby gasped, as Jim and Biddle hoisted him within the room and let him down before the fireplace. “I am glad for the hospitality…estoy agradecido por su hospitalidad…” he added.
“Agua caliente, por favor,” Jim demanded, before adding to his assistant. “We must wash those deep wounds immediately, lest they become putrid…”
Jim bent to this task, while Biddle and the woman of the house watched with interest – even moving to brew a tea of dried herbs over the fireplace.
“Willow-bark and sage,” Toby explained, although it obviously pained him to talk. Presently the elderly person ventured a querulous remark and Toby drew in his breath with a hiss, before responding in courteous Spanish.
“It is Dona Adeliza,” he explained to Jim and Albert Biddle. “The Old One; she wants to know what is going on. I have told her. She is amused – for she remembers the old General very well. He was a … disruptor of peace and quiet when alive, so of course he would do the same when dead. A restless and unquiet spirit – she says that we should ask the priest to come from San Fernando and do a blessing in each room of his old house. But she thinks it should best be torn down, or made into a stable.”
Senora Gomez interjected a comment – which sounded like a chiding – and the old lady answered, as feisty as a very old sparrow.
Biddle chuckled, “Old as she must be and blind to boot, she doesn’t sound like she has ever missed much. Ask her – about Don Esteban Saldivar and why a rich Spaniard would take rooms here … go on. Ask her – maybe she has some knowledge of this matter.”
That question elicited a perfect fountain of indignant Spanish from Senora Gomez, as well as a witchy-sounding cackle of laughter from the old lady. “Todo lo que tenían que hacer era preguntarme!” she exclaimed. – All they had to do was ask me! – Dona Adeliza continued in much the same vein, of which Jim divined a few scraps of words, enough for a rough estimation of what the old lady was saying; “You silly fools! All they had to do was ask – silly men – the General, he had caused to build within the house a secret place for his most precious things. And I know where it is! I have known all this time!”
At their backs, the door to the outside suddenly swung open, admitting a gust of chill night air into the room and making the candle flicker wildly.

20. October 2013 · Comments Off on Back In The Bookworks Again · Categories: Old West, Random Book and Media Musings, Uncategorized

A good few years ago – so, OK, it was 1997 – another  writer sent me this musical parody, to be sung to the tune of “Back in the Saddle, Again.” It was composed especially for me, as he was inspired upon actually recieving a copy of “To Truckee’s Trail.”

“BACK IN THE BOOKWORKS A’GIN”

Well, she’s back in the bookworks a’gin.

Writin’ away when she kin’. ‘magination’s never dry,

When there’s his’try there to ply,

‘Cause she’s back in the bookworks a’gin.

Writin’ ’bout his’try once more,

Poundin’ her ol’ com-pu-tor

She’s describin” Truckee’s Trail, Starvin’ and tra-vail

Back in the bookworks a’gin

Chorus: Whoopi-ty-aye-Oh

Writin’ to and fro

Back in the bookworks again

Whoopi-ty-aye-Yay She goes her own durn way

‘N’ she’s back in the bookworks agin.

Now, the first book’s the worst

You think the whole durn thing’s cursed

But you stick right to the trail

And you know, you’ll never fail!

You’ll be back in the bookworks a’gin.

I’ll send her a cowboy’s farewell

Pop off a round, bang the bell

She’ll be back someday, I know

An’ a-writin’ she will go

Back to the bookworks a’gin.

Chorus: Whoopi-ty-aye-Oh

Writin’ to and fro

Back in the bookworks again

Whoopi-ty-aye-Yay

She goes her own durn way

‘N’ she’s back in the bookworks agin!

16. October 2013 · Comments Off on Dakota Die-off · Categories: Uncategorized

A Facebook friend posted a link to a blogpost regarding this story – which has apparently just barely made a dent in public awareness outside the local area.

Last weekend western South Dakota and parts of the surrounding states got their butts handed to them by Mother Nature. A blizzard isn’t unusual in South Dakota, the cattle are tough they can handle some snow. They have for hundreds of years.

Unlike on our dairy farm, beef cattle don’t live in climate controlled barns. Beef cows and calves spend the majority of their lives out on pasture. They graze the grass in the spring, summer and fall and eat baled hay in the winter.

In winter these cows and calves grow fuzzy jackets that keep them warm and protect them from the snow and cold.

The cows and calves live in special pastures in the winter. These pastures are smaller and closer to the ranch, they have windbreaks for the cows to hide behind. They have worked for cows for hundred of years.

So what’s the big deal about this blizzard?

It’s not really winter yet.

The rest is here.

16. October 2013 · Comments Off on Conclusion – The Tireless Mr. Colt · Categories: Uncategorized

(The conclusion of the story begun here.)

The redesigned and improved revolver – the Walker Colt – turned out to be a nearly five-pound brute of a weapon, and returned Sam to the arms-manufacturing business with renewed zest. He subcontracted production of them first with Eli Whitney Blake (nephew of Eli Whitney) at Blake’s Whitneyville armory. The contract specified that the machinery used would revert back into Colt’s ownership at completion of the contract – for Sam had set up shop in a former cotton mill in Hartford, Connecticut. He incorporated the company as Colt’s Patent Fire Arms Manufacturing Company. He held most of the shares; trusted friends and relatives held the remainder. Orders poured in for the Colt-Walker model, later improved as the Dragoon, even after the war ended. Sam was the man, and a man it was good to be friends with. One of those friends was the newly-elected governor of Connecticut, whom Sam had supported politically. As the commander of the state militia, the governor could bestow a military commission as a lieutenant colonel on a man of his choice – and he chose to bestow it on Sam. For the rest of his life, Sam took pride in being Colonel Colt – and was often referred to as ‘the colonel’ by friends and associates. His fame as an industrialist and inventor was spread even more widely when he showed off the output of his armory – five hundred pistols and a number of experimental rifles – at the Great Exhibition of 1851. The exhibition was intended to show off the very latest in industrial advances, technology and art; a project dear to the heart of Prince Albert, who was one of the primary organizers. The Queen herself formally opened the Great Exhibition, and over six million people trooped through the Chrystal Palace, admiring all. Sam Colt was invited to read a paper on the technology of assembling items – his patent revolvers and rifles – from machine-created parts to the Institute of Civil Engineers, which so cemented his fame that he was invited to be a life-member.

Success followed on success. He had the respect of inventors and industrialists on two continents, friendships with soldiers whom he admired and politicians who could be useful, He prevailed on the US Congress to extend the patent that he had obtained on his revolving mechanism, he had clients all over Europe and the Americas for his pistols, rifles and carbines, which poured out at a rate which could only be achieved by assembling them from machine-made, interchangeable parts. He had a factory in London, in addition to the splendid new armory in Hartford, for which ground was broken in 1854, on a stretch of easily-flooded swampy meadow-land on the edge of Hartford along the Connecticut River. Sam’s ambitious solution was to have a protective dike built along the river, and planted it with osier willows, whose long roots would solidify and stabilize the dike. Cannily, he planned that effort to pay for itself, by opening a willow-work factory, inventing a machine to split and peel the bark from harvested willow branches, and importing a whole village of German craftsmen to manufacture willow-work furniture.

The new armory was a massive building of Portland stone, four stories tall, and crowned with a blue-enameled dome topped with a rearing golden colt. The armory building contained the machine shops, a foundry, offices, two enormous boilers providing power, an assembly hall for his workers. It was not the only building in the compound – there were also houses for his workers – at the armory and the willow-ware factory … and on the highest portion of the property, he planned a grand mansion for himself, an Italianate pile surrounded by landscaped gardens, ponds, stables, and greenhouses called Armsmear.

As the inimitable Jane Austen noted, the only lack in the life of a gentleman with such a substantial income was that of a wife. Sam remedied that in June of 1856 by marrying Elizabeth Hart Jarvis, of nearby Middleton. The Jarvises were a well-known local ‘old money’ family of unimpeachable social standing. They were not anywhere near as wealthy as Sam Colt – very few of the pre-Civil War gentry were. The newlyweds embarked on a lengthy European honeymoon and Grand Tour, accompanied by the bride’s younger brother and sister – a journey which culminated in the pomp and circumstance of the coronation of Tsar Alexander II in Moscow. Sam and his brother-in-law were among the bare handful of non-Russians honored with invitations to attend the coronation ceremony, being temporary seconded to the American delegation as military attaches. Sweet indeed must have been the triumph for Sam – who had a dozen years previous been hitting the circuit giving demonstrations of laughing gas to fund his inventions!

The intended year-long honeymoon journey was cut short after six months; likely there was only so long that Sam could stay away from his various businesses. By the last half of the decade, they included not just the Hartford Armory and the willow factory but a New Mexico silver mine, a prospective port in Texas and property in Mexico itself. He and Elizabeth settled into Armsmear and pleasant and active life as the leading citizens of Hartford. Elizabeth bore four children in that time; sadly, only one lived to adulthood. Meanwhile tensions between the north and south became acute. As a businessman, Sam had no sympathy for radical method in anything but manufacturing and technology. He viewed the sternly abolitionist Republicans with distaste. He was not alone in this, although the prospect of a shooting war would increase demand for his product immensely. The prospect of war and disunion horrified the Yankee manufacturing elite in Hartford. A large part of Sam’s market was in the South, he had friendships and business connections there, which a war would disrupt.

But by the end of the decade, Sam’s health began to fail, and fail catastrophically. He was plagued by reoccurring attacks of gout and rheumatic fever, which increasingly confined him to bed. He would obey the doctors then, and recover just enough to return to work … whereupon he would overwork, fall ill and begin the cycle again. The attacks worsened; by Christmas of 1861, he was entirely bedridden at Armsmear, within sight of the towering, blue-domed Armory. He died there on January 10, 1862, at the age of 47. He left a fortune – a considerable one for the time – of $15 million dollars and majority control of his company to Elizabeth.

03. October 2013 · Comments Off on The Latest Book! · Categories: Book Event, Uncategorized

QuiveraTrai; Cover 1 - Even SmallerIt may be that I am a little jaded, or still recovering from the hustle of last month – all the bother about selling the California property, that one-day-but exhausting blitz of having the HVAC replaced, the distraction of setting up my daughter’s website for her art-origami venture, worry over my business partner’s uncertain health, since practically all the business dealings in it now fall to me – but I received the print proof of The Quivera Trail by UPS Wednesday afternoon, and so far it looks totally splendid, Usually I am pretty excited over this – it’s one thing to have worked for months over a computer file, and printed proofs; having the printed and bound copy to see and handle … just as it will be in bookshops and for those who order it from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.  although the cover as printed looks rather darker than I expected. But I tell myself that it was supposed to be a gloomy, dark Victorian interior, almost a prison for the two main characters. The open door shows an empty countryside, in bright contrast, which is exactly the effect that I visualized for the story.

There’s the door, there is freedom outside, in the bright green and golden sunshine … if you are brave enough to go through the door.

My daughter is launching – or re-launching – her little origami art business; she’s lately become fascinated by the possibilities of Bouquet of Cranes 2folding paper and turning it into all kinds of ornamental objects d’art, some of them wearable as jewelry or hair clips. Originally she and an artist friend of hers from high school were going to form a partnership … but it did not work out, so Blondie is going solo, businesswise, with Paper Blossom Productions, although we have committed to a joint booth at the Boerne Market Days, November 9th and 10th. I’ll have all of my books, and Blondie will have all of her origami, plus some other oddities and endities. This event is just one of a handful for me, but the first for her. The next few months are chock-full of Christmas markets and craft fairs; this is when retail, amateur and professional alike score enough to coast for the rest of the year. We’re very fond of the town of Boerne, by the way; especially the Squirrel’s Nest on Main, which is a resale shop benefiting Wildlife Rescue and Rehabilitation, and a particular barbeque place cunningly disguised as a gas station at the corner of Main and River Road, the Riverside Meat Market which has the most scrumptious barbeque for miles around. No, seriously – their whole roast chickens are the food of the gods, and the brisket is to die for. And down a block or two from Main Street is a historic residence that my daughter loves so much that if it were a guy, she would be stalking him relentlessly. As it is, we try to drive past it at least once, while she looks yearningly at it.Beautiful Boerne House 2

So, there’s my schedule so far for November; Boerne Market Days, and then the New Braunfels Weihnachtsmarkt later in the month. See you there, maybe!