WEDNESDAY WESTERN ROUNDUP!! CINDY NORD AND GIVEAWAY!!

Please won’t you all come over to the campfire and join Mr. Cookie and me in a refreshing beverage, or perhaps finger sandwich?  *swoops into a deep curtsey and sweeps arm in grand gesture pointing to the campfire*

Yeah, I know Cookie, that ain’t gonna work!  But I tried…So YEEEE-HAW, Folks!! Come on over and grab yerself some Arbuckle’s and a plate of grub!! Cookie and me, we tried real hard…for about thirty seconds…to put on some airs ‘cause today ‘round the campfire Cindy Nord, good FB friend and debut novelist, brought with her Colonel Reece Cutteridge, yes sir and ma’am a bonafide Yankee colonel!!  A man in uniform…commence with the wolf calls gals ‘cause this man is H-O-T and not just ‘cause he’s forced to wear that darned wool uniform in the heat of August in Virginia. No, Siree, Reece would cause the vapors in nothin’ but what the good Lord…well let’s not even go down that trail or Cookie will have to use the smellin’ salts to revive us all!

**runs hand over Reece’s wool jacket covering a nice broad chest**  “Sorry, I seem to have drooled a bit on yer fine uniform” **keeps runnin’ hand over the jacket long after the stain is gone.  A whirlwind of satin plops down between me and the Colonel**

**Cindy laughs behind the ever present sandalwood fan**

**I glare at Cindy and the pile of satin now between me and Reece**  Now normally only the hero and author swing by to share a cup and jaw, but today I’m pickin’ Cookie’s jaw off the ground cause Emaline McDaniels a spitfire of a Southern belle has graced our presence…mostly cause I couldn’t keep her away…an army couldn’t keep her away…

Folks we’ve got so much goin’ on ‘round the campfire today y’all better keep sharp, or you’ll miss somethin’!

Cindy, when she’s not causin’ dust storms flutterin’ her sandalwood fans and makin’ eyes at my cook, is an expert on Victorian fashion and she’s kindly supplied a bit of information on pantalettes!!  Yep, folks today we’re mentionin’ the unmentionable!! Cookie, get yer doggone eyes off the split-crotch pantalettes!!

AND Cindy provided an excerpt from NO GREATER GLORY! If y’all can read the excerpt and not run off and snatch up a copy…well all I can say is good luck with that!  When this lady comes to a shindig, she comes prepared!!

AND  if’n I can tear Cookie away from those split-crotch thingmebobs, I’ll be puttin’ the names of those who take the time to leave a comment in his hat and we’ll giveaway an ebook (kindle or nook) copy of NO GREATER GLORY to one lucky commenter…

Let’s this soiree started folks, or we’re gonna run out of daylight! So let me proudly introduce y’all to Colonel Reece Cutteridge and the widow Mrs. Emaline McDaniels…

 

Amid the carnage of war, he commandeers far more than just her home.

Widowed plantation owner Emaline McDaniels has struggled to hold on to her late husband’s dreams. Despite the responsibilities resting on her shoulders, she’ll not let anyone wrest away what’s left of her way of life—particularly a Federal officer who wants to set up his regiment’s winter encampment on her land. With a defiance born of desperation, she defends her home as though it were the child she never had…and no mother gives up her child without a fight.

Despite the brazen wisp of a woman pointing a gun at his head, Colonel Reece Cutteridge has his orders. Requisition Shapinsay—and its valuable livestock—for his regiment’s use, and pay her with Union vouchers. He never expected her fierce determination, then her concern for his wounded, to upend his heart—and possibly his career.

As the Army of the Potomac goes dormant for the winter, battle lines are drawn inside the mansion. Yet just as their clash of wills shifts to forbidden passion, the tides of war sweep Reece away. And now their most desperate battle is to survive the bloody conflict in Virginia with their lives—and their love—intact.

KIRSTEN’S THOUGHTS:  It has been a long time since I’ve read a love story so powerful and endearing as Cindy Nord’s, NO GREATER GLORY!  I never believed there would be another story set during the American Civil War that reached my heart and hit me at such a gut level (forgive my vulgarity Emaline) as John Jakes’ NORTH AND SOUTH (the book that started a pre-teen down a path eventually focusing on Civil War history in college and graduate school), but NO GREATER GLORY meets and in some ways far exceeds my visceral reaction to NORTH AND SOUTH.

Cindy breathes life into not only her fictional characters, but into the historical figures and into the very history itself. Her battle scenes breath and roar like a dragon unleashed on the page, and the scenes between Reece and Emaline cut and bleed like an open wound as they try to deny their love and then soothe like a balm as they accept that while on opposite sides of a war, they will never be enemies. And though I’ve visited many Civil War battlefields and plantations, and live just down the road from most, it was Cindy’s writing that placed me smack in the middle of the sights, sounds, smells, and emotions of a nation torn apart by a war that severed and united a country just as it severed then united Emaline and Reece. From muddy battlefields, and field hospitals, to the lemon oil used to shine the wood at Shapinsay Plantation house, you are there with the characters through rich, historically accurate details.

Reece enters the scene a natural leader among men, and there is no doubt he is in command at all times, except where his heart is concerned when it comes to Emaline. His rugged exterior, while showing tenderness the only way a soldier during wartime can, by seeing to her safety, melts my heart even now.  The heartbreak that drove him to war keeps Reece enslaved to the past.

Emaline is a brave, determined lady, but dragged down with the chains of responsibility and unwavering in her desire to protect the only child she believes she will ever have, her plantation. Emaline has known respect and admiration, but she has never really known love and acceptance…Until Reece.

I give NO GREATER GLORY my highest recommendation. You do not want to miss these two wonderful, sad, proud people find the true freedom no President can proclaim (even one as great as Lincoln) but only love can bring!  OH, and you’ll LOVE Jackson and Brennen, too, I’m just sayin’!

NOW here’s a peek at what I’m talkin’ about!  (The picture is the cover to the Audio version of NO GREATER GLORY!! And  that’s Cindy’s real life hero Tom leading the charge across the cover!! )

NO GREATER GLORY

October 1862

Seven miles west of Falmouth, Virginia

A bitter wind slammed through the tattered countryside, sucking warmth from the morning. Emaline McDaniels rocked back in the saddle when she heard the shout. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened. Across the fields of ragged tobacco, her farrier rode toward her at breakneck speed. Lines of alarm carved their way across the old man’s ebony face.

Emaline spurred her horse around to meet him. “What’s wrong?”

Tacker pointed a gnarled finger eastward. “Yankees, Miz Emaline! Coming up da road from Falmouth!”

“Yankees?” Her heart lurched against her ribs. She’d heard of their thievery, the fires and destruction left in their wake. Teeth-gritting determination to save her home flashed through her. She leaned sideways, gripping his work-worn sleeve. “Are you sure they’re not the home guard?”

“No, ma’am. I seen ’em, dey’s blue riders, for sure. Hundreds of ’em.”

Two workers moved closer to listen to the exchange, and the farrier acknowledged them with a quick nod.

“Everyone back to the cabins,” Emaline snapped, sinking into the saddle. “And use the wagon road along the river. It’ll be safer.”

“Ain’t you comin’ with us?”

“No. Now move along quickly, all of you. And keep out of sight.” She flicked the reins and her horse headed straight across the fields toward the red-brick mansion that hugged the far edge of the horizon.

The spongy ground beneath the animal’s hooves churned into clods of flying mud. Aside from a few skirmishes nearby, the war had politely stayed east along the Old Plank Road around Fredericksburg.

Her mare crested the small hillock near the main house, and Emaline jerked back on the leather reins. Off to her far right, a column of cavalrymen numbering into the hundreds approached. The dust cloud stirred up by their horses draped in a heavy haze across the late-morning air. In numbed fascination, she stared at the pulsing line of blue-coated soldiers, a slithering serpent of destruction a quarter of a mile long.

Waves of nausea welled up from her belly.

“Oh my God…” she whispered. She dug her boot heels into the mare’s sides and the nimble sorrel sprang into another strong gallop. Praying she’d go unnoticed, Emaline leaned low, her thoughts racing faster than the horse. What do they want? Why are they here?

Her fingers curled into the coarse mane as seconds flew past. At last, she reached the back entrance of the mansion. Quickly dismounting, she smacked the beast’s sweaty flank to send it toward the stable then spun to meet the grim expression fixed upon the face of the old woman who waited for her at the bottom of the steps. “I need Benjamin’s rifle!”

“Everythin’s right dere, Miz Emaline. Right where you’d want it.” She shifted sideways and pointed to the .54 caliber Hawkins, leather cartridge box and powder flask lying across the riser like sentinels ready for battle. “Tacker told me ’bout the Yankees afore he rode out to find you.”

“Bless you, Euley.” Emaline swept up the expensive, custom-made hunting rifle her late husband treasured. The flask followed and she tumbled black crystals down the rifle’s long muzzle. A moment later, the metal rod clanked down inside the barrel to force a lead ball home.

She’d heard so many stories of the bluecoats’ cruelty. What if they came to kill us? The ramrod fell to the ground. With a display of courage she did not feel, Emaline heaved the weapon into her arms, swept past the old servant, and took the wooden steps two at a time.

There was no time left for what ifs.

“You stay out of sight now, Euley. I mean it.” The door banged shut behind Emaline as she disappeared into the house.

Each determined footfall through the mansion brought her closer and closer to the possibility of yet another change in her life. She eased open the front door and peered out across Shapinsay’s sweeping lawns. Dust clogged the air and sent another shiver skittering up her spine. She moved out onto the wide veranda, and with each step taken, her heart hammered in her chest. Five strides later, Emaline stopped at the main steps and centered herself between two massive Corinthian columns.

She squared her shoulders. She lifted her chin. She’d fought against heartbreak every day for three years since her husband’s death. She’d fought the constant fear of losing her beloved brother in battle. She fought against the effects of this foolhardy war that sent all but two of her field hands fleeing. If she could endure all that plus operate this plantation all alone to keep Benjamin’s dreams alive, then surely, this too, she could fight.

And the loaded weapon? Well, it was for her fortitude only.

She knew she couldn’t shoot them all.

“Please, don’t turn in,” she mumbled, but the supplication withered on her lips when the front of the long column halted near the fieldstone gateposts at the far end of the lane. Three cavalrymen turned toward her then approached in a steadfast, orderly fashion.

Her gaze skimmed over the first soldier holding a wooden staff, a swallow-tailed scrap of flag near its top whipping in the breeze. The diminutive silk bore an embroidered gold star surrounded by a laurel wreath, the words, US Cavalry-6^th Ohio, stitched beneath. Emaline disregarded the second cavalryman and centered her attention directly upon the officer.

The man sat his horse as if he’d been born in the saddle, his weight distributed evenly across the leather. A dark slouch hat covered sable hair that fell well beyond the collar of his coat. Epaulets graced both broad shoulders, emphasizing his commanding look. A lifetime spent in the sun and saddle added a rugged cast to his sharp, even features.

An overwhelming ache throbbed behind her eyes. What if she had to shoot him?

Or worse—what if she couldn’t?

The officer reined his horse to a stop beside the front steps. His eyes, long-lashed and as brown as a bay stallion’s, caught and held hers. Though he appeared relaxed, Emaline sensed a latent fury roiling just beneath the surface of his calm.

Her hands weakened on the rifle and she leaned forward, a hair’s breadth, unwillingly sucked into his masculinity as night sucked into day. Inhaling deeply, she hoisted the Hawkins to her shoulder, aiming it at his chest. Obviously, in command, he would receive her lone bullet should he not heed her words.  “Get off my land!”

Cindy’s bio: A member of numerous writing groups, Cindy’s work has finaled or won countless times, including the prestigious Romance Writers of America National Golden Heart Contest. A luscious blend of history and romance, her stories meld both genres around fast-paced action and emotionally driven characters. Indeed….true love awaits you in the writings of Cindy Nord

WHOO-EEE!!  But don’t go yet, although I know y’ave got a bur to get yerself a copy!  But you DO NOT want to miss the following discussion on…hm umm…underdrawers…!!!

Victorian Unmentionables…Oh My!

Today we call them panties, underwear, or ladies briefs.  Even a few brave souls, might wear and call them thong. But in the 1860’s, modesty was foremost.  And the proper ladies of the era might call these items her…‘unmentionables” if in a crowd, but behind fluttering fans she’d address them by the name they actually were: split or crotchless pantalettes (two separate tubes of material joined to a band only at the waist, the crotch    left open for hygienic reasons). When we say we’re wearing a ‘pair of panties’– THIS is where that saying derived.

 

Originating from France in the early 19th century, the feminine pantalettes were designed after men’s leggings or long drawers. Up to this time, ladies did not wear anything other than a long chemise or shift. The acceptance by females of these pantelettes soon spread to Britain and quickly swept across the pond to America.

 

 

 

The pantalettes of an 1860’s woman were loose trouser-like pieces made mostly from white linen or silk and decorated with tucks, lace, and cutwork or broderie anglaise. Also called drawers (so stated because the undergarment was ‘drawn on’), they were worn mid calf-length with an open leg and the hems were decorated with scallops or elegant embroidery. Secured at the waist with a tie or a back button closure, these garments were always part of the wardrobe and worn for decency’s sake as ladies limbs at the time were never exposed. And the split-crotch made going to the “necessary” a whole lot easier.

 

 

 

Beginning as simple fashions of the early 1800’s, by the Mid-Victorian era, pantalettes had become an exquisite work of art. Women found fashion inspiration and patterns from Godey’s Lady’s Book and Petterson’s — and both popular periodicals featured new looks each month. Pantalettes patterns were no exception, and issues during this time-period included patterns with measurements, and an illustration of the completed garment.

 

 

By the end of the 1860’s decade, however, pantalettes legs were no longer separate tubes attach to a simple band. The split-crotch opening disappeared into one complete garment seamed into one piece, most likely joined to prevent chafing caused by damp skin rubbing together. And soon thereafter the length of the garment rose from mid-shin into gathers just below the knee.

There were numerous layers of undergarments worn by a properly dressed 1860’s Victorian lady. But by far the most important piece of clothing other than the corset (which so defined a woman’s silhouette of that era) was the pantalettes.

 

Cookie!! Dagnabbit, yer embarrasin’ me in front of the Colonel, starin’ at those bloomers!!  And don’t be askin’ Emaline for a close-up look!  Though if Reece was so inclined…

Anywho folks, this shindig is just startin’ and the fun is fixin’ to last all day!! So, come on over and jaw a bit, or swoon at the Colonel’s feet!  Feel free to ask Cindy about pantelettes!  (I defer all bloomer questions to her)!  Do you like Civil War novels?  What color does your hero usually don (I have to admit the couple I’ve written about wear the Gray)?  What’s your favorite Civil War novel, if ya have one…other than NO GREATER GLORY, of course!!   Heck talk about anythin’!  It’s a free country…now!