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Friday, June 28, 2013


Have any of you ever incorporated your family history into your writing? Do you like to read books that are based, however loosely, on factual happenings?

My mom was the oldest of eleven children. She knew everyone in our family and how they were related. Because she and my dad grew up together in a tiny little town in southeast Oklahoma (their high school had a graduating class of twelve), she also knew quite a lot about his side of the family as well.

But when I was younger, I was not interested in the stories she told me. It was only later, when I was grown and had children of my own, that I began to wonder and ask questions, and by that time, her memory had already begun to decline.

If you have ever read the book, The Education of Little Tree, (by Forrest Carter) or seen the HBO movie, this story might sound familiar. http://www.amazon.com/Education-Little-Tree-ebook/dp/B005JFBDAW/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372218998&sr=1-1&keywords=the+education+of+little+tree+forrest+carter
When Andrew Jackson decided that the Indians were to be assimilated into the white man’s world, he put lots of plans into action that would take years to snowball and evolve into what they eventually became—a truly shameful period in the US governmental policies and procedures. One of Jackson’s plans, besides Removal, that was carried through into subsequent presidencies, was the idea of assimilating Native American children in white homes to integrate them more completely. The Native American children were taken from their villages and given to willing white families (along with a tidy little government stipend for their troubles) to raise.

My great-great-great grandfather was one of these children. We don’t know his real name. It was changed when he was delivered to his new “family,” a Presbyterian minister and his wife. Their last name was Walls. So his name was changed to Walls, and he was given the first name, David. Forbidden to speak his language, he was forced to forget all the ways of his People, and dress in white man’s clothing, go to white school. But he was never going to be white, and his place in the world was divided so drastically that he could not fit in anywhere. Eventually, the Rev. Walls sent David to medical school in Missouri. When he returned to the small town where he’d been raised, he was a doctor who rode to his patients on horseback. Later, he married and had children, but it was not a happy union and his son, my great-great grandfather, became an alcoholic whose own children, in turn, left home as soon as they possibly could. My great grandmother, his daughter, married at 13. Her older sister left home one day and never returned. No one ever knew what became of her.

This is my great grandmother, Josie Belle Walls McLain Martin at about age 25

I’ve often thought of these children that were abducted by our cavalrymen, and taken away to their white “families”, forbidden everything familiar and forced to adopt completely new and different ways, even down to their speech and childhood games—and their own names. Can you imagine it? To never be allowed to see your mother and father again. Siblings separated and “given” to different families, their heritage and connection with one another lost forever. How many tears must they have shed? And how lonely and separate they must have felt, how isolated, even into adulthood…so that most of them, I imagine, never were able to fit in anywhere in the world.

My short story, ONE MAGIC NIGHT, is based loosely on what happened to my long-ago ancestor. This story first appeared in the Victory Tales Press 2011 SUMMER COLLECTION. Last summer, it was released through Western Trail Blazer publishing as a single-sell short story in the “dime novel” gallery for only .99.

Dr. Shay Logan has just returned to Talihina, Indian Territory, from medical school in Missouri. Shay hopes to settle down and make a life for himself, but how? He doesn’t belong to either world, Anglo or Indian He's made the acquaintance of Katrina Whitworth at the July 4th town social, and the attraction is mutual from the very beginning. Shay begins to have hopes and dreams that may be out of the question…but Katrina seems to have stars in her eyes for him as well. Will she risk everything to be with him? Katrina makes a social blunder, and Shay follows her into the woods to apologize to her, but when they return, Katrina's drunken father humiliates her. To make matters worse, her former beau shows a side of himself she had not seen before. Can Katrina and Shay have a life together that they so badly want? Here’s an excerpt for you.


As Whitworth’s hand started its descent, Katrina turned away. But Shay’s arm shot out, grasping Whitworth’s hand and holding it immobile.

“You will not.”

Three words, quietly spoken, but with a heat that could have melted iron, a force that could have toppled mountains.

Katrina’s father’s face contorted, his teeth bared, finally, as he tried to jerk away. He didn’t
utter a word. He stared up into Shay Logan’s eyes that promised retribution, as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he lunged once more, trying to pull free, but Shay still held him locked in a grip of steel. Only when he released that grip was Whitworth freed.

“You presume too much, Doctor Logan, unless you are assuming the care and responsibility of my daughter.”

“Papa! Oh, please!” Katrina felt herself dissolving into a puddle of less than nothing beneath stares of the townspeople of Talihina. What had started as an exciting, beautiful evening had become an embarrassing nightmare. It was torture to think that she was the cause of it all. How she wished she had stayed home with Jeremy as she’d first planned, before Mrs. Howard had volunteered to keep him company.

Now, Papa was saying these things that she knew he would regret later. It was always this way when he drank too much. These accusations had gone beyond the pale of anything he’d ever said before. But Shay Logan wouldn’t realize that. He wouldn’t know that Papa would be sorry tomorrow.
Evidently, there was one thing Shay did recognize, though. She saw the very slight flare of his nostrils as he drew in the scent of alcohol on her father’s breath, and in that instant, there was a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Whitworth,” he said in an even tone. “I will overlook your behavior toward me because of that, but not toward your daughter. She has done nothing, yet you would strike her, and cause her shame.”

“She’s my daughter,” Whitworth replied sullenly.

“But not your property, Whitworth. Never that. You owe her an apology.”

“No, Shay, really—” Katrina began, then as her father whirled to look at her, she broke off, realizing her mistake. ‘Shay,’ she had called him. As if she had known him forever. As if she was entitled to use his given name freely. As if she were his betrothed.

“‘Shay’ is it, daughter? Not, ‘Dr. Logan’? Shay.” He spit the words out bitterly. He drew himself up, looking Shay in the face. “I’ll not be apologizing to her—or to you. And I’ll expect nothing less than a wedding before this week’s end. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

Shay had lost any patience he might have harbored. “You understand me, Whitworth. You will not dictate to me, or to your daughter on such matters of the heart. As I say, the alcohol has got you saying things you’re going to regret, and—”

“Threatening me, are you? Threatening me?”

“Truman.” Jack Thompson stepped out of the crowd and smoothly came to stand beside Katrina. “Let’s put this…unfortunate incident…behind us, shall we?” He confidently tucked Katrina’s hand around his arm. “I can see that the church auxiliary ladies have almost got everything set up for this wonderful Independence Day meal—” he frowned at Mrs. Beal, nodding at the picnic tables behind her. She jumped, motioning the other ladies to resume the preparation.

He gave a sweeping glance around the group of onlookers. “I, for one, am ready to eat! How about you all?”

Katrina was swept along at his side as he walked toward the tables, speaking to acquaintances and friends, laughing and…and seething with tense anger the entire time. She could feel it in his body, with every step he took and the tightness of his grip as he covered her hand with his. Katrina glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shay, but the crowd blocked her view.

“Smile, my dear,” Jack gritted into her ear. “I’m hoping we can still salvage your virtue, no matter what happened, really, between you and the good doctor. If I see him near you again, I’ll kill him.”






  1. Your family history is very interesting! So sad, that your great-great-great grandfather was taken away forcibly from his roots and home. How they were forced to live another life and learn another custom. Sounds like you have a lot of stories from your family history. Thank you for sharing!

    Linda Ortiz

    1. Hi Linda!
      It is very sad, but did you know that that is still happening today? Especially up in the Dakotas. I had no idea, but saw an article on it the other day. It's amazing to think that is still going on in this country.

      Yes, I have a lot of stories, for sure. My mother told me a lot of the family stories when I was younger. How I wish I had paid more attention!

      Thanks so much for coming by, Linda! I have you entered in the drawing!

  2. I think it's so fascinating that our elders kept a family history and told us the stories and then we forgot them or didn't pay much attention to them. My dad and my maternal grandmother were the story tellers in my family. Like you, I didn't pay as much attention to the stories at the time...how I wish I had. I have a thousand questions now that will never be answered.
    I loved this tidbit of your family history, Cheryl.
    I loved One Magic Night. It was a memoriable story that stayed with me even after I finished the story.
    I like reading stories taken from an author's life because I can feel it, that heartfelt connection of the writer to the story.

    1. Thanks, Sarah. It was my way of giving him a happy ending--more than he had in real life. And I'm sure there were others like him who went through the same hell of never fitting in. I'm so glad you enjoyed ONE MAGIC NIGHT. I sure enjoyed writing it!

  3. Wow, it must be wonderful to know family history that far back! Of course, the flip side is that you learn about the hardship and tragedy your ancestors endured, also.

    1. Gerald, that's true. I look at that picture of my great grandmother. Of course, I didn't know her until she was very old. But in that picture she's about 25. By that time, she had 4 kids from her first husband, who had died unexpectedly from a brain aneursym, and had remarried a man who had 5 or 6 kids of his own, and then they went on to have several more between them. Not much to smile about.

      I do love knowing my family history, and I truly don't even know nearly as much as I wish I did, but am coming to realize I'm lucky to know the things I do. There are so many things that are "tidbits" that let you know there's more to the story, though, and no way to find out now. Thanks for coming by and commenting!

  4. Cheryl, your family history is interesting. Here in the south the past is remembered and handed down. My brother is now researching both sides of the family tree and (hopefully) writing it down for the next generation. My mother's family is from Nebraska and my dad's is from the east. They met at a USO dance in Omaha where my dad was in basic training during WW 2.

    1. Carolyn, I have written down things from time to time that I remember Mom telling me. Dad didn't talk much about his family, but I do know a few things that just make me itch to know more. One thing I will never forget is how my aunt (Dad's younger sister) and her little cousin, who were both 5 at the time, got their picture made together when a traveling photographer came around. A few days after that picture was made, the cousin, Margaret, got appendicitis and was in the hospital. But the doctor would not operate on her until my great uncle PAID him! It cost around $200--an astronomical amount of money at the time (this would have been around 1934, and here they were in the middle of the Dustbowl and the Depression). My great uncle went around begging for money from everyone. But no one had any money. Margaret died because the doctor would not perform the operation on her until he was paid. I can just imagine my great uncle's desperation, having to go to everyone he knew and try to raise the money, but of course, everyone was in the same boat.

  5. How wonderful that you can weave a bit of family history into your own stories even if the tale is a sad one. I enjoyed reading about your past. I'm reading Trail to Destiny now and enjoying it.


    1. Hi Ciara,
      Thanks so much for stopping by. I'm so glad to be able to have the small little inklings of my past that I have, and that I'm able to work it into my stories sometimes. Trail to Destiny is not one of mine...did you mean Kane's Destiny?

  6. Actually, that was a "me bad" with my trifocals. I'm actually reading Kane's Chance but I had to go to the titles in my library so I wouldn't lose my place and I glanced at the title below that one. Ack. But yet, Kane's Chance is proving to be fun and enlightening read.

    1. OH GOOD! I'm so glad you are liking Kane's Chance. It was sure hard for me to turn loose of Will Green and Jacobi Kane. I have a feeling there may be "more" down the road...LOL

  7. Hi Cheryl, I love to hear the stories behind the stories, and you always tell such interesting ones!

    1. Liana! What a nice thing to say! I appreciate that so much! I'm like you, I love those stories behind the stories. I need to just sit down and write down everything I know about Mom's family and Dad's, even though it's not as much as I know about hers. I'm glad you stopped by today. I've gotcha entered in the drawing. I know you're busy as heck.

  8. DRUM ROLL, PLEASE!!!!!!

    My winner for the "A 2011 Christmas Collection" is... LINDA ORTIZ!!!!!!

    Congratulations, LINDA!


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