Susan Johnson (59 page)

The rancher was back in a couple of days with, “I thought I told you to turn the water down the creek.” My father answered, “If you bother me any more about the water, I’ll turn it into Wild Horse Creek and you won’t get any more water.”

A few days later, we learned from a friend that the rancher and his sons planned on murdering our family at the first opportunity. Not being able to live under such a threat, the next day at daylight, Father took his rifle and rode over to the neighbor’s place. He kicked the door open and found the family at breakfast. Covering them with his rifle, he said, “Finish your breakfast because this is your last meal.”

He accused them of making the murder threat, and it was obvious from their reactions that they had made it. Then he said, “This bottom isn’t big enough for both of us and I’m not leaving.”

The rancher quickly agreed to sell out to B. D. and leave the area. Terms of the sale were agreed upon. As my father left, he told them, “All this depends on your being out of the bottom this afternoon by two o’clock.”

By one o’clock the troublemaker and his family were “stringing out across the bottom with their wagons,” according to Father.

Phillips continued adding to his holdings.

The beginning of the new paragraph causes the reader to think, “I’ll bet he did.” In accounts like this, often written for historical societies or in memoirs, one point of view is presented. Questions arise when reading this narrative: Why did settlers on the land gradually sell out to B. D.? Why was the last remaining settler on the bottomland roughing up settlers? Why did B. D. suddenly dam up the creek after he’d bought out all the settlers save one? Why would a man who had been threatened with murder by a neighbor and his sons beard them in their own home single-handedly? Some details, one suspects, may have been omitted.

These accounts, which appear with some frequency, verify two points. Power and protection of one’s land often rested on
violence and lawlessness. And a certain objectivity is required in interpreting “pioneer memories.”

8.
In February 1889, the legislature amended the statute prohibiting women from practicing law in Montana. During the Christmas season of 1889, Ella Knowles passed the bar exam without difficulty, becoming the first woman lawyer in Montana. One of her examiners noted in his diary that night, “Examined Miss Knowles for admission to the Bar and was surprised to find her so well read. She beats all that I have ever examined.” By 1890, only 50 women nationwide had been licensed as lawyers. By 1910, there were only 558 women lawyers and judges in the country, making up 0.5% of the profession.

9.
Trey’s carrying Empress down-mountain is based on a true story. Thomas Faval and his wife with a partner named Charboneau had been sent out by a fur company to trap for the winter. Charboneau had a vicious reputation, but young Faval needed the job and wasn’t in a position to refuse orders. Although given supplies, they were expected to live largely off wild game. Soon after their winter camp was readied, four feet of snow fell in a week, and all the animals moved out of the area. They kept waiting for the wild animals to drift back once the snow settled, but they never did. Shortly before Christmas, Charboneau set out for the fort. He was to return with supplies, for they were out of food. By dogsled, it was a ten-day round trip. When he didn’t return, Faval and his wife began their trek out, but by that time they were much weakened by hunger. After the first day Marie could no longer walk, so Faval carried her. There was no evidence of game anywhere, although Faval hoped each day that they would find some. It was as though they had disappeared off the face of the earth. On the sixth day Marie fell into a stupor, but he knew it wasn’t much farther to the fort, and if he traveled all night and all the next day, he was sure he could get there by dusk—if his strength held. Faval stumbled into the fort late the following afternoon and lay his
wife on a bed; after opening her eyes and smiling at him, she died.

“How came it you starved out there?” the company factor asked him. “When Charboneau came in, he reported that you were doing well.” And Faval discovered that Charboneau simply had said he wasn’t needed at the winter camp. Faval was so enraged, he could barely speak. “Where is he now—this moment?” he said in a whisper. When he was told that Charboneau was playing cards in an adjacent room, Faval rushed into the room and killed him with his bare hands.

10.
Newspaper comment on Indian matters was often laconic. On November 27, 1884, the
Cottonwood Correspondent
reported: “The Crow Indians are raiding the Musselshell for horses.” Ten days later the
Mineral Argus
carried the correspondent’s “follow story”—a succinct line: “There are seven good Indians on Cottonwood Creek.” The stockmen had taken matters into their own hands and hung seven Indians from the cottonwoods near the Musselshell.

11.
In a letter to the editor of
Montana
magazine, information is furnished about George Parrotti, a bandit portrayed in several of Charles M. Russell’s paintings. The rather unusual facts are related in a bland, objective fashion:

George Parrotti, a train robber and murderer was lynched at Rawlins, Wyoming, at 7:30
P.M.
, March 22, 1881. His skin was tanned and made into a medical instrument bag, razor strops, a pair of lady’s shoes and a tobacco pouch. The shoes are on display in the Rawlins Museum. Part of his skull is in the Union Pacific Museum in Omaha, Nebraska. Two future governors of Wyoming, Osborne and Chatterton, witnessed this incident.

Now as to the information on Big Nose George. I had some litigation in Rawlins, Wyoming, and had the good fortune of meeting Dr. Lillian Heath. The doctor told me on tape that her
mother ran a boarding house in Rawlins. One of the boarders was Dr. Osborne. She worked for Dr. Osborne as his nurse. When they lynched Big Nose George, she knew the whole story. When George was cut down the next morning, Dr. Heath was there. The body was taken to the doctor’s office and skinned and the hide was tanned. She related that Dr. Osborne kept George’s brain in a jar of formaldehyde so that he could study the convulsions. He gave to Dr. Heath the top of the skull and she used it as a doorstop at times and as a flower pot at other times.

The refinements of civilization apparently had not been fully assimilated by Western society.

12.
Ambergris is a resinous substance originating in the intestines of sperm whales and thrown out as debris on the shores of Africa, China, India, Ireland, and the Bahamas. Its musky aroma was added to perfume oils, soap, and other toiletries. Taken internally—usually through inhalation—it supposedly acted as an aphrodisiac and exhilarant. The fin-de-siècle era had a fascination for Oriental themes, exotic plants, ritual, and eroticism.

Dear Reader,

Writing romances is great fun for me. Like one of those daydreams that actually happened. And not because I was pragmatic enough to set a goal and work toward it. More like Alice in Wonderland, I fell into it.

I research first, one of life’s great pleasures, and find enough material to write dozens of books. And from an initial, amorphous image, that research clarifies my characters and my new fictional reality. My characters seem alive to me as I write; they talk and I simply scribble down their words as fast as I can. I hope Trey, Empress, Hazard, and Blaze drew you back for a few hours into their nineteenth-century Montana world. My wish is to entertain and amuse, perhaps touch a kindred emotion, and in a small way bring to life a
time long past. And to remind people of the beauty and power of love.

Best wishes,   
Susan Johnson

P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers. If you have any questions or comments, I’d be delighted to answer them.

13499 400th Street          

North Branch, MN 55056

The Kuzan Dynasty Trilogy
SEIZED BY LOVE
LOVE STORM
SWEET LOVE, SURVIVE

The Braddock-Black Series
BLAZE
SILVER FLAME
FORBIDDEN
BRAZEN

The St. John-Duras Series
SINFUL
WICKED
TABOO
A TOUCH OF SIN
and
HOT STREAK
BLONDE HEAT
SEDUCTION IN MIND
TEMPORARY MISTRESS
LEGENDARY LOVER
TO PLEASE A LADY
OUTLAW
PURE SIN

Susan Johnson, award-winning author of nationally bestselling novels, lives in the country near North Branch, Minnesota. A former art historian, she considers the life of a writer the best of all possible worlds.

Researching her novels takes her to past and distant places, and bringing characters to life allows her imagination full rein, while the creative process offers occasional fascinating glimpses into complicated machinery of the mind.

But perhaps most important … writing stories is fun.

Once Billy walked out of the bar with the black-haired bitch, as Lily silently referred to his partner, she found it easier to enjoy the rest of the evening. His disappearance resolved her dilemma—should she, shouldn’t she, would she hate herself in the morning if she did? It turned into a beautiful, hot, sweaty night of dancing, which she loved. The band was prime, she adored dancing, she had no dearth of partners, including Ceci, whom she’d danced with since the sixth grade. They were actually damned good.

Serena and Frankie left early. Surprise, surprise. But it was nice to see Serena so happy.

After turning down various offers to extend the evening, Lily and Ceci drove home alone.

“Is it just me or do you have to feel the heat before you sleep with someone?” Lily asked as they turned out of the saloon parking lot.

“Same here. Lust first, then friendship. That’s my motto.”

“There’s definitely degrees of lust, though.” Lily sighed.

“He talked about you,” Ceci said, the reason for Lily’s sigh patently clear.

“But he went home with the black-haired bitch.”

“It was a without-risk, try-to-forget-the-woman-you-want fuck. He would have preferred you, but didn’t want to pay the price.”

“That’s not particularly consoling.”

“But true. He wants you bad.”

Even while she told herself she shouldn’t care, even while she understood how useless the feeling was, Lily felt a warm rush of pleasure.

Lily was home twenty minutes later, still wired after hours of dancing. Taking off her clothes, she put on a robe, poured herself a Coke from the refrigerator, opened and shut the bag from the Chocolate Moose with the almond-paste bear claw three times before she decided she’d burned off enough calories on the dance floor to warrant a tiny little bite.

Three minutes later the bear claw was gone.

She’d eat only raw vegetables tomorrow, she promised herself, and then in some totally unknown fashion, the freezer door was open, she was standing in the glare of the freezer light, and the Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia container was looking lonely all by itself.

She’d eat only a very
few
raw vegetables tomorrow, she thought, reaching for it.

Scooping up the first spoonful—the one with the large chocolate chunk—she mentally considered eating just down an inch, reassuring herself that calculating the number of fat grams and calories listed in a portion size when divided by the very few spoonfuls she would consume would amount to only a nominal number of calories. And a certain amount of fat was actually required in a diet or one could die of beriberi or some similar, odd disease of malnutrition.

She was shocked when she saw the bottom of the container.

Tomorrow would have to be a day of fasting, which was very good for one; it cleansed one’s soul and body and allowed one to reach a higher sphere of consciousness.

With
tomorrow
the operative word, she drank her Coke and then finished off that one last small Almond Joy left over from her trip. The Almond Joys were really much, much smaller than before—a mere morsel with hardly any calories, she was sure. And she’d read somewhere that coconut didn’t have any cholesterol, although the palm oils weren’t all that good for you, but she wasn’t going to think about that now—
when she was in the throes of a severe case of sexual deprivation!

She chose to overlook the fact that she’d gone two months without sex prior to arriving in Ely.

But too much factual data put you out of touch with your true inner self and the cosmic energy cycles that brought you extraordinary peace and understanding. So right now she didn’t want to be confused with
petty
facts. She was much more interested in
where he went with that black-haired bitch!

Calm, calm … draw in a breath of serenity and peace … let your vital life energy flow …

Lily picked up the kitchen phone.

Ten minutes later Ceci had talked her down: she wasn’t going to weigh three hundred pounds by next week due to her sexual trauma; all she needed was a good night’s sleep and everything would look calm and much improved in the morning. One thought less often of ex-lovers making love to black-haired bitches, she supposed, when one was eating her scrambled eggs and toast than when one was perhaps just
slightly
drunk.

A glaring light flashed through the kitchen windows, and for a second she thought she’d witnessed an alien landing.

It was car lights, she realized a moment later. She really shouldn’t have more than three drinks in an evening.

The headlights were turned off, she heard a car door slam, and it just went to show you how harmful violence in movies was, because her first thought was that someone had come to cut her into ribbons with a kitchen knife in, appropriately, her kitchen.