The Nations In Me

by Jena Galifany

At this stage of the generations of my family, I am quite a mixture of nationalities. The list goes something like this: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix, and two other tribes of Native American. I'm not sure what those other two tribes are but would like to find out someday. I'm sure that the intermingling of the Euroamerican with the Native American was frowned upon.

The next generation, my son, Nick and my daughter Amanda, have all of the above plus their father was 100% Italian, so that is added to their line. My younger daughter, Jen, is Scandinavian and English from her father. At least now, there is not much said against the mixing of nationalities.

The real mix is my granddaughter, Halle, Amanda's daughter. She is as follows: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix plus two other tribes of Native American, Italian, with Japanese, Chinese, and Filipino from her father. It's hard to believe there can be so many nationalities in one young girl. We joke that she can have World War 3 all by herself. If she should marry a man of Russian decent, I think her children will have the world pretty much covered.

How mixed up is your family heritage?
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The Native American was treated poorly by settlers and the government. In the late 1800s, it was becoming more and more difficult for the tribes to remain on their own land. In the west, the Paiute tribes in Oregon were struggling against the white man as well as each other. It was a difficult time for them. For a greater understanding of the situation, read more about the Bannon - Paiute War HERE.

It was during this time in history that my novel "Shyanne's Secret" takes place. Here is a taste of the story.

Excerpt:


     Cole wasn't ready to face Rita after the morning he'd had.  He'd spent several minutes at a creek washing the mud out of his hair and off his face, clothes and the horse before he continued home.  None of them had scored a direct hit but had only splattered him.  He made his way toward home, not in the mood for a rematch with Dex.  After he dropped off the kitchen supplies on the porch, he continued into the barn to unload the bags of oats and other working items. Just because his Pa was gone didn't mean he'd let the farm fall to ruin or the animals starve. He moved past the variety of trees around the perimeter of the property and through the barn. He unhitched the gray, led him to his stall and brushed him down. He wanted to be alone, sort out his thoughts while he cleaned stalls.

    By afternoon, as he walked through the cool of the barn, he inventoried the unfinished work that awaited him.  He was hot, tired and frustrated about what he should do with his life.  Should he be the one to leave, or should Rita go back to A.J.? After all, it was his father's property and didn't that make it his now that Pa was dead? If only the grant office would make up its mind. His half-blood status was being weighed over his right to inherit from his white father. Cole hated the idea that he might need Rita to claim the land so he wouldn't lose it. She could sign it over to him, then be on her way elsewhere, if it came down to that.

    He wiped his brow on his shoulder and climbed the ladder to the loft.  He tossed his jacket into a corner that was piled with loose hay. He rolled up his sleeves, and sat on the pallet situated along the wall.  He closed his eyes, and recalled the hot summer days that he'd spent up here, listening to his Pa talk about how he and his friend, Martin Marshall had traveled out to Oregon for the free land the government was giving away.  The two friends had become brothers-in law when they'd married sisters; pretty squaws from a local tribe of Paiutes, when they found out they could get six hundred forty acres, a double portion of land if they had wives.

    Pa told him how he'd come to love that pretty little Indian lady after he convinced her that he'd never sell her. She was terrified the day her daddy sold her to Seth and her sister to Uncle Martin. She thought he'd bought her for a slave.  Seth had trouble convincing her that he'd made her his wife. Seth and Martin both had trouble convincing the community to accept their wives, and more problems when they'd had to convince the town council to allow their sons born a few months apart to be taught in the school with the white children. That only lasted until Cole and Will were twelve. So much for an education, but they got the basics and learned to work the farms instead.

    When Cole's parents were threatened, Uncle Martin got nervous and sent his wife and Will to stay with the tribe for safety. Cole missed his cousin but Seth couldn't do without his help. Cole felt he'd lost half of his spirit. The cousins were close and looked like twins, except that Will, the bolder of the two, was a bit taller and Cole's hair was a shade or two darker. They looked so much alike they delighted in causing minor trouble that the other would be blamed for. Four months after the Jackson murders, Uncle Martin brought his wife home but Will chose to stay on to learn more about his mother's people.

    The gray plow horse in the stall below nickered, reminding Cole where he was. He missed sitting up here listening to his daddy talk. Opening the buttons on his shirt, he pulled out the turquoise stone that hung on a thin leather thong around his neck, a talisman his mother had gifted him with years ago. He held it in his hand when he missed her, and wished he could bring her back.

    He collapsed on his back, one arm across his forehead as he contemplated the picture he'd drawn on the barn wall with a piece of charcoal when he was eight. Pa thought it was so grand he'd burned it into the wood so it would never fade. Cole once more envied the freedom that the wild mustang enjoyed.  In the midst of his thoughts, he remembered a certain smile and the kind blue eyes of Shyanne Bennett.

    He wanted to talk to her, say the things he had never said to any girl before.  He wanted to tell her how beautiful her blue eyes are; how much he'd like to touch her golden hair, how much he wanted to be loved by someone – anyone.  If that someone could be Shyanne Bennett, nothing else would matter.  He closed his eyes, and savored his memories.

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BACK COVER BLURB:
    Cole Jackson promised to take care of Shyanne Bennett, to keep her secret. It was a promise he intended to keep—and then her father lynched him. It might take time, but he'll find a way.

      Shyanne Bennett loved Cole Jackson, that sassy half-blood. She lost her mind when he died to keep her secret. Cole promised to take care of her but how can he once Harvey Bennett hung him? Maybe her heart will find solace in becoming the wife of his look-alike cousin, Will Marshall. And then again, maybe the heartache will only begin again.

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From my family to yours, I pray you have a safe and special Thanksgiving.

For more about "Shyanne's Secret" click HERE.

Cheers!

Native American Indian Heritage Month & Western Lore by Amber Leigh Williams

The month of November is a lot of things. For some, it's a time to write with National Novel Writing Month kicking off on November 1. For others, it's a time for family with Thanksgiving right around the corner. For others, it's time to hit the stores because the Christmas holidays are coming up fast (if those early holiday commercials are any indication). It's important, though, particularly for me, to remember throughout all of this that November is also Native American Indian Heritage Month. I can't trace my ancestry back to those Indians who helped the pilgrims all those years ago...but my mother's family does have some ties with the Cherokee of Tennessee. That being said, I'd like to dedicate my post this month to Native American culture and its role in shaping the spirit of western lore....

I happen to write western fiction. Western romance, that is. Contemporary western romance. But if you go out west where cowboys drove their horses and cattle, even today you'll find heavy traces of the Ol' West. I think that's why we still find cowboys and ranches and rodeos so alluring. It's that fascinating whisper of what was. So much of fiction set throughout the West is derived from its people, culture, but maybe especially its setting. While researching my next western romance trilogy (yay!), I discovered an irresistible story backdrop - the Black Hills.

The Black Hills is one of the most storied mountain ranges in the American West. The knuckles of the range itself reach across the border of South Dakota into Wyoming. In contrast to other western mountain ranges, it is small (Harney Peak, the highest summit, is only 7,244 feet) and remote – far removed from the Rocky Mountains. An “island of trees in a sea of grass,” the Black Hills is home to the tallest peaks of continental North America east of the Rockies. Because they are covered in trees, the mountains appear dark in the distance. Therefore, the Lakota named the region HeSapa, or “Black Mountains.”

The Black Hills were first inhabited by Native Americans around 7000 BC. Among the tribes that called the range home were the Arikara, Cheyenne, Crow, Kiowa, and Pawnee. Finally, in the eighteenth century the Lakota made the Black Hills their home by driving out the other tribes. Much of Lakota culture is central to the Black Hills. Both the Cheyenne and the Lakota believed that the region was the axis mundi, or "sacred center of the world." However, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the discovery of gold caused many European Americans to flock to the Black Hills. Soon after, the last major Indian War on the Great Plains, known as the Black Hills War, unleashed. In violation of a treaty with the Native Americans, the United States seized control of the land. As late as 1980, the Supreme Court ruled that the Black Hills had been taken illegally from the tribes. The Lakota refused a settlement of one-hundred-and-six million dollars, citing that they wanted the return of the Black Hills to their people. To this day, they persist in their quest to reclaim their land.

In the late nineteenth century, thousands of gold miners descended on the mountain range. In 1880, there was no part of the Dakota Territory more densely populated than the Black Hills. The cities of Deadwood, Central City, and Lead formed amidst the great surge of pioneers. Railroads also began to crop up. Since 1880, the gold mines of the Black Hills have earned four million dollars a year with an additional three million dollars in silver.

The Black Hills are covered mostly in fragrant Ponderosa Pine and Black Hills Spruce. Though scattered throughout the range are picturesque grasslands in lieu of forests, home to mountain meadows or “open parks.” The wildlife of the Black Hills is very diverse. It is actually known as a “mixing and meeting place” where species from all parts of the north, south, east, and west go to mingle. For example, both the forest and grasslands create great habitats for American bison, a variety of deer, mountain lions, prairie dogs, marmots and fox squirrels in particular. The creeks that run through the Black Hills are known for their trout fishing.

Tourism is a large part of the Black Hills economy. The range is home to Custer State Park, South Dakota’s largest state park and one of the largest in the United States. In August, the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally takes place on the scenic roadways scattered throughout the Black Hills. In 2005, more than 550,000 bikers took part in the rally, bringing more tourism and revenue to the area. Famous sightseeing gems like Mount Rushmore National Memorial, Wind Cave National Park, Jewel Cave National Monument, Harney Peak, Bear Butte State Park, Devils Tower National Monument, The Crazy Horse Memorial (which is the largest sculpture in the world), and George S. Mickelson Trail also bring people from all around the world to the Black Hills.

Another vital part of the Black Hills community and economy is sheep and cattle ranching. And yes, Roses, here we find our cowboys! It's not hard for me to imagine my trilogy of heroes and their dude ranch nestled in a picturesque valley with those wondrous "Black Mountains" on the horizon and all that history and ghosts from the past waiting to be uncovered. I really can't wait to explore both the characters and those beautiful Black Hills - their landscape and history.

Amber Leigh Williams lives on the Gulf Coast. A southern girl at heart, she loves beach days, the smell of real books, relaxing at her family’s lakehouse, and spending time with her husband, Jacob, and their sweet, blue-eyed boy. When she’s not running after her young son and three, large dogs, she can usually be found reading a good romance or cooking up a new dish in her kitchen. She is represented by Joyce Holland of the D4EO Literary Agency. Find her on the web at www.amberleighwilliams.com!