Not much work got done this past week. My parents are here visiting and my attention has been elsewhere. With the exception of making corrections to the revised version of the Libbie Custer book and making all the final arrangements for the Christmas in Bethlehem project, I’ve accomplished little. Hope to spend some time today researching the next few books I’ll be writing. Two new westerns ride into theatres this month, True Grit and Cowboys and Aliens. Both look like quality pictures, but how can you go wrong with a western? Would that I could keep my mind strictly on the Old West, but my brother’s situation continues to grieve my heart. I’m sad all the time it seems. I have to believe there is a purpose for all this pain. I have to believe that things will get better someday. I have to believe that or there is no use being here at all. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with more information about the Single Action Shooters Convention in Vegas next month and interesting tidbits about women outlaws from the heartland of the country.

I’ve been doing a lot of research this past week in preparation for updating the book Hearts West: True Stories of Mail Order Brides. I’ve come across some truly moving correspondence between couples who believed they would never see their loved ones again. Whether a cholera outbreak had overtaken the wagon train carrying a future spouse to their beloved, or lack of water threatened their passage over the Salt Lake desert, the last words they wrote to their betrothed was about love. In all the years I’ve been doing research I’ve never come across anyone who left a letter of hate. I don’t believe anyone has that thought in mind as the end draws near. Love is the prevailing sentiment. I’d like to hope that for myself, but believe that would be folly. My parents spent what might be the last time with my brother today. My mother reports that his tremors are out of control and that he struggles to keep his head from shaking violently. Parkinson’s is the runaway train on course to collide with an early, painful grave. Rick will go, but not before he suffers more. In these final times I don’t have love on my mind. It’s hate. It’s bitterness and angst and a desire to track down the bad guys and make them pay. I feel like the Charles Bronson character in Once Upon a Time in the West. I will only rest once I see the bad guy fall from grace, lose everything, and be fully exposed to the world. And then, as they cry out for mercy, and dare to ask how this could happen to them, I will be there to remind them and watch the murderers downfall. I want to see their faces filled with the recognition that they have been found out. No thoughts of love from them or for them will be issued – only signs of relief that evil has passed. Rick didn’t deserve this. My mom didn’t deserve this heartache. I can’t live without somehow making it right. And as Bronson promised Fonda, making it right will only come at the point of dying.

My parents are traveling to the prison/medical facility where my brother is located. Time is of the essence. They might be able to make this trip again. My mother was hospitalized in route. She really should still be in the hospital, but was released early because of the great need to get to Rick. The anger I feel over this situation washes over me again and again. In between the tidal waves of pain and bitterness that toss me about, I might come up for air and allow myself to hope for the reconciliation Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians. For a brief moment I feel it, but it slips away quickly with the next crash of tears and hurt. I’m pulled under with rage and an overwhelming drive to continue working toward proving his innocence and expose the real evil in this sad, unending tale. I’ve been waiting for a long time, but it’s just about over now. Cockroaches scatter in the light. The cockroaches who accused my brother are going to scatter in the light of truth. The only way I can work the fury out while waiting for the light to come is to write. I’ve got more than enough work to keep me busy, just not enough to help me forget all that’s happened and is yet to happen.

I locked myself inside my home office three days ago to begin the rewrites on the Elizabeth Custer book and have just now finished. I love writing. What I can’t stand is the paperwork. Actually, I love having written. Working out all the bugs in the bibliography is the most difficult part of the job. There were many primary sources used to research this title and all have to be numbered and correspond with the right section and, well, it’s a nightmare. The new video promoting the book is on the website now under the “media” category. It’s both educational and heartbreaking. Sounds a little like my first marriage. There’s no time now to reflect on the Custer book or an ex-husband. I’ve got to get to work on the next manuscript. I’ll simply conclude my thoughts about the latter by saying that I went into the marriage knowing as much about the man as Mia Farrow did in Rosemary’s Baby. I was young and didn’t realize he thought monogamy was a type of wood. But enough of that, let’s get back to the Old West. On this day in 1861, 17 year-old Cole Younger, riding with Quantrill’s Raiders, skirmished with federal troops near Independence, Missouri and killed his first man. The shot was measured at 71 yards. On September 21, 1876, a posse caught up with Cole and he was shot seven times. The shots didn’t kill him. He was jailed, later paroled, and went on the lecture circuit preaching the evils of crime. Before his death in March 1916, he had locked himself in his home office to write his memoirs.

I’m on the trail today of some of the most notorious female outlaws in the Midwest. I’ve found a few among the ladies of easy virtue. The Rose of Cimarron, Belle Starr, Cattle Annie and Little Britches – all had their reasons for becoming unshackled outlaws, the common one being they lost their hearts to some romantic reprobate, and therefore could lay the blame, as their sisters had done for centuries, upon the unregenerate male sex. Nothing has changed. From the 1850s to 2010, men are still being blamed for women’s bad actions. Writing about male outlaws is much more interesting because they don’t make excuses. They’re bad, they know it, and they accept it. Many of the Old West outlaw gangs, and for that matter Old West law enforcement teams, were brothers – the Youngers, the Daltons, the Earps, the Mastersons, the Tighlmans. They looked out for one another. I’ve not found any female gangs or police squads from that era that consisted of just sisters. Family wasn’t enough for women of old to give up everything and seek vengeance for a wrong to their sibling. At least I haven’t come across an example yet to support that. On this day in 1896, the Dunn brothers faced the challenge of fighting for one another. Bill Dunn and his four brothers Bee, Dal, Calvin, and George most often operated as bounty hunters. But the Dunn brothers were better known as the proprietors of a road ranch outside Ingalls, Oklahoma, where passing travelers were waylaid after being put up for the night. On May 2, 1895, two desperados known as Charley Pierce and Bitter Creek Newcomb arrived at the Dunn ranch to spend the night. As they stabled their horses, Bill and one of his brothers ambushed them outside the barn to collect the $5,000 bounty on Newcomb in Guthrie. A year later, on August 25, 1896, the outlaw leader Bill Doolin was killed much the same way. Dunn was part of the posse surrounding Doolin’s farm in Lawson, Oklahoma, and waited for the fugitive to appear at the door. When he showed himself, his surrender was demanded. Doolin refused and was shotgunned to death. Later that year, the people of the county grew angry over Dunn’s tactics. On November 5, Dun answered his critics by blaming Deputy Sheriff Frank Canton for the brutal way in which Newcomb and Pierce were killed. In the streets of Pawnee, Canton confronted Dunn. Dunn drew first, but Deputy Canton fired a .45-caliber slug into Dunn’s forehead, killing him instantly. Bill’s brothers swore revenge for his death. One of them announced, “I’ll get even if I have to crawl back from the grave.” Bill Dunn was in the wrong, but I can’t help but admire his brother’s loyalty.

Lawman Bat Masterson always thought his brother was too kind to be a deputy. He was right. Deputy Marshall Ed Masterson preferred to try and work things out peacefully and give offenders the benefit of the doubt. His conciliatory nature led to his demise. This week in 1877, the Dodge City Deputy Marshall tried to put an end to a quarrel between Ed Shaw and Texas Dick Moore, co-owners of the Lone Star Dance Hall. All of them got shot up in the melee. Including an innocent bystander, but happily all recovered fully. It’s sad to note the Ed was eventually shot and killed while on duty in Dodge. The bullet struck at such a close range it set his jacket and vest on fire. He called out to his brother, Bat, who came to his brother’s side as fast as he could. Bat was brokenhearted and made sure the people responsible for his brother’s death paid. I admire that attitude and how brothers and sisters stuck together during that time period. The Earps, the Mastersons, the Tilghmans, family came first. No one who killed one of their siblings was allowed to get away with it. Perhaps the visitor to my sight from Bolivar, Missouri in the 7 o’clock hour yesterday were hoping such an attitude did not exist today. I assure you it does. The devotion even extended into the 11 o’clock hour when the visitor from Bolivar had a visitor from Norborne check out the site. And so I will say it again…my brother isn’t what you claim. Even after he’s gone I’m going to keep fighting for him. Watch for The Plea coming to bookstores. And make plans to see Conviction coming to a theatre near you.

I’ve starting the month of November making changes to the various manuscripts I’ve completed. I’ve hired the independent editing firm B K Williams from the Phoenix area and they are exceptional. I have great hope that the work I submit to my publisher will now read better. I get in a hurry when I write. I am guilty of that at signings as well. I once autographed a copy of The Cowboy and the Senorita with “Best of Luck and Happy Trials.” With B K Williams I can hopefully avoid such blunders. I’ll be working on the Sam Sixkiller book again today. Sheriff Sixkiller lived in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. That area was no stranger to lawlessness. It took men like Sam to make it fit for people to live in peace. That’s just what a group of lawmen were doing there on this day in 1892. A sixteen man posse attacked Ned Christie’s fort near Tahlequah with a small cannon. After firing 30 rounds to no effect the breech failed, but they didn’t give up. Christie’s fortress was eventually penetrated and he was shot and killed by Deputy Wess Bowman. Sam Maples, another member of the posse, emptied his revolver into Christie’s lifeless body. Sam’s father had been killed by Christie in 1885. Oh, how I love frontier justice. The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill Cody book came out earlier this year and was reviewed by Clark Isaacs for Midwest Book Reviews. I’m including it in today’s post. I’ve got three preview copies to give to readers. All you need to do is send me an email and tell me why you love Buffalo Blle. I mean, Bilie. No, Buffalo Bill! As I noted, I’m not a strong speller. Here’s the review. “More than 100 books and articles have been written about the man who made the Wild West come alive. “The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill” by Chris Enss adds another dimension to the stories about the life of William F. Cody. He was a showman extraordinaire, a scout for the United States government, a soldier in the Civil War, an Indian fighter, and above all, he loved the ladies. Enss, who has written many books about Western culture, its people and the lives of many interesting personages of the Old West, has assembled a succinctly remarkable characterization of who Buffalo Bill really was… Cody’s life as depicted in this non-fiction account was about bravery, honesty and courage that made him a righteous man even though he had an eye for the ladies. His love of this land was more important than his indiscretions. The legendary career of Buffalo Bill Cody, the only Western hero mentioned in Who’s Who in America, makes this book a must-read.

A few weeks ago a dear friend of mine my high school reminded me of a Biblical truth. I’ve thought about it a lot since she shared it with me. In a story told in I Kings 20: 4-8. We see how God wins our battles and how the devil tries to defeat us in the valleys. The story is of Ben-Hadad, King of Aram. He sends word to Ahab, King of Israel, that he is coming to take all his silver and gold. King Ahab relents and sends word back saying, “just as you say, my lord the king. I and all I have are yours.” King Ben-Hadad sends another message to Ahab saying, “oh but I will take all that you have, your gold and silver, your wives and your children. I will seize everything you value and carry it away.” Ben-Hadad is a picture of the devil who comes to steal, kill and destroy. The devil is never satisfied with taking only one thing from you, but he wants it all, your spouse, your money, and your children. We become Ahabs when we agree to let the devil have anything. I became an Ahab when it came to my brother. I didn’t stand up right from the beginning and say no, you won’t take anything I have. Rather, I consented to giving the devil some of what he wanted. I won’t make the same mistake again. The people who hurt my brother and subsequently my family will not win. The Bible tells us, “God will deliver him and his armies into the right hands, and they will know that he is the Lord wherever his people are. He’s the God of the mountain and he’s the God of the valley too.” I’m sure it seems strange that I can write about gunning down enemies in the street one day and mention God the next. I know I’m nothing but a sinner. Nothing I ever say about wanting vengeance or revenge for what’s happened to Rick takes away from God’s goodness. I struggle. It’s hard to watch my brother die. I appreciate the Old West because the metal of a person then was defined by standing up to what was wrong and saying no. On this day in 1879, Cowboy John Dean got to whooping it up in Caldwell, Kansas and when he went to drunkenly waving his pistol around the law was called in. Marshall George Flatt and Deputy Red Bill Jones attempted to arrest Dean as he was riding out of town. They both pursued him on foot firing as they ran. But Dean galloped to safety. I like the fact that the Marshall and Deputy pursued the bad guy on foot. They were dedicated to not letting evil come and take over without a fight. John Dean learned his lesson. He knew if he ever returned to Caldwell he would be taken down. Consequently, Dean never went back.

1879 – the Civil War is over, and the resulting economic explosion spurs the great migration west. Farmers, ranchers, prospectors, killers, and thieves seek their fortune. Cattle growers turn cow towns into armed camps, with murder rates higher than than those of modern day New York or Los Angeles. Out of this chaos comes legendary lawman Wyatt Earp, retiring his badge and gun to start a peaceful life for his family. Earp’s friend, John, Doc Holliday, a southern gentlemen turned gunman and gambler, also travels west, hoping the dry climate would relieve his tuberculosis. Silver is discovered in Arizona. Tombstone becomes queen of the boom towns where the latest Pairs fashions are sold from the backs of wagons. Attracted to this atmosphere of greed, over 100 exiled Texas outlaws band together to form the ruthless gang recognized by the red sashes they wear. They emerge as the earliest example of organized crime in America. They call themselves, The Cowboys. A hundred twenty-nine years ago today a :30 gunfight made history. In the famed Gunfight at the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona the Earps and Doc Holliday killed Frank and Tom McLaury and Billy Clanton. Ike Clanton and Billy Claiborne were both unharmed and wisely scampered to safety. Tom McLaury was unarmed too. But he didn’t scamper fast enough. The following is one of my favorite exchange of dialogue from the movie Tombstone. Wyatt Earp: All right, Clanton… you called down the thunder, well now you’ve got it! You see that? [pulls open his coat, revealing a badge] Wyatt Earp: It says United States Marshal! Ike Clanton: [terrified, pleading] Wyatt, please, I.… Wyatt Earp: [referring to Stilwell, laying dead] Take a good look at him, Ike… ’cause that’s how you’re gonna end up! [shoves Ike down roughly with his boot] Wyatt Earp: The Cowboys are finished, you understand? I see a red sash, I kill the man wearin’ it! [lets Ike up to run for his life] Wyatt Earp: So run, you cur… RUN! Tell all the other curs the law’s comin’! [shouts] Wyatt Earp: You tell ’em I’M coming… and hell’s coming with me, you hear?… [louder] Wyatt Earp: Hell’s coming with me! There must have been great satisfaction in warning the bad guys to run because the law was coming. I live for that day. It’s fast approaching.

After more than a year waiting to hear back on a book proposal submitted to FarCountry Press I finally got a call about the work. Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the Midwest will be released in mid-2012. I’m excited about this title and the women I can begin investigating. One of the ladies was a serial killer in the late 1880s. She murdered several men and buried them on her family’s farm. Too bad the focus of this title is limited to the frontier days. I know a pair of female murderers that would be perfect for the volume. I suppose I’ll have leave those bad girls for the Kansas City Star to write about – I predict their fate will be played out in the news in the not too distant future. New evidence has been uncovered that will be changing the course of their lives. Lies will be revealed and proven. Perhaps visitors to this site from the Southwest Baptist University or the University of Missouri are hoping to find just that. Who knows? I do know they’re watching. Feel how still the air is? Like just before a cyclone, or a storm, or an arrest. Most people do not associate women with outlawry in the Old West, but there were a high number of female bandits and killers. I enjoy the research portion of writing so much more than the actual writing and I enjoy traveling through the Midwest finding the items I need to use in the book. I’ll be making a trip through the area in February and then again in May. The special edition of the American Cowboy magazine about John Wayne is doing very well from what I hear. I’ve noticed an increase in the sales of The Young Duke so I believe the statement to be true. John Wayne is one of my favorite actors – always has been. My office is covered with posters from the movies he starred in. I’ve always been inspired by the character he portrayed in The Searchers. I admired the character’s determination and conviction to right a wrong. That’s how I feel about the wrong that was done to my brother. A new movie set to be released next month features another determined character worth admiring. Hilary Swank plays a woman who spends her life working to prove her brother is innocent of murder. Based on a true story the movie is called Conviction. The movie trailer alone is stirring. Visit www.conviction.com. I hope the film is huge success.