Paul Colt's Blog, page 22
September 18, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 9
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
Mother Marie invites Margot to join them in prayer. Uncomfortable among nuns she listens . . .
Day broke over Chalmette Plain. Morning fog rolled a thick carpet off river and swamp. Lafitte surveyed the field from the vantage of a parapet at Jackson’s elbow. The rampart bristled with cannon and sharpshooters. A battery of cannon deployed on the right flank at the river’s edge gave field of fire across the canal and down the face of the rampart should the British reach a point of bridging the canal or scaling the wall. Additional batteries held positions across the river on the west bank. These guns flanked the line of British advance.
Fog lifted over regular red-coat columns on left and right flanks with its main force massed in the center. A fourth assault force poised to strike across the river in an effort to turn the American cannon there against their own flank.
Holy Mary, mother of God . . .
Mother and son. She knew love, all mothers do. What was it, Mother Marie said? What I am ‘doesn’t matter to her.’ How could it not? I knew me. It mattered to me. Then it occurred, perhaps that’s all that mattered.
The Mississippi current conspired against the river assault force, bogging down barges carrying troops in shallows and driving still others downstream away from their objective, delaying assault on the guns positioned there. With American guns on the west bank of the river still in play, the British launched the main thrust of their assault. The vanguard, charged with bringing forward scaling ladders to bridge the canal and scale the rampart, came under heavy fire. Backwoods sharpshooters devastated their number, forcing abandonment of the ladders.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Paul
Mother Marie invites Margot to join them in prayer. Uncomfortable among nuns she listens . . .
Day broke over Chalmette Plain. Morning fog rolled a thick carpet off river and swamp. Lafitte surveyed the field from the vantage of a parapet at Jackson’s elbow. The rampart bristled with cannon and sharpshooters. A battery of cannon deployed on the right flank at the river’s edge gave field of fire across the canal and down the face of the rampart should the British reach a point of bridging the canal or scaling the wall. Additional batteries held positions across the river on the west bank. These guns flanked the line of British advance.
Fog lifted over regular red-coat columns on left and right flanks with its main force massed in the center. A fourth assault force poised to strike across the river in an effort to turn the American cannon there against their own flank.
Holy Mary, mother of God . . .
Mother and son. She knew love, all mothers do. What was it, Mother Marie said? What I am ‘doesn’t matter to her.’ How could it not? I knew me. It mattered to me. Then it occurred, perhaps that’s all that mattered.
The Mississippi current conspired against the river assault force, bogging down barges carrying troops in shallows and driving still others downstream away from their objective, delaying assault on the guns positioned there. With American guns on the west bank of the river still in play, the British launched the main thrust of their assault. The vanguard, charged with bringing forward scaling ladders to bridge the canal and scale the rampart, came under heavy fire. Backwoods sharpshooters devastated their number, forcing abandonment of the ladders.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
September 4, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 8
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
In prayer, the guns of war seem less threatening. Simple words touch Madam Margot She listens, lulled to sleep . . .
I came awake to a light touch in the gray light of predawn. Kind eyes looked on me, hooded.
“Come, join us,” she said.
“You can’t mean me.”
“But I do.”
“Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am?”
“It doesn’t matter to her. Come.”
She held out a hand. Guns rumbled in my ears; war broken out in my heart. Torn, I took her hand. “Who are you?”
“Mother Marie.”
I followed. A slight chill prickled the flesh on my arms as she marched me up the broad aisle to the foot of a towering altar overshadowed by some larger presence. Some among the ladies present undoubtedly took umbrage at my intrusion. Mother Marie deposited me in the front pew among her sisters and resumed her prayers.
I sat surrounded by nuns, sheltered from the disdain of polite society. A thistle among lilies, no other way to describe it. At some point in the ebb and flow of emotions battling within my breast, I stopped berating myself over what I was doing there. Seated so close, my eyes were drawn to the Lady. A queen by her crown. I listened.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
In prayer, the guns of war seem less threatening. Simple words touch Madam Margot She listens, lulled to sleep . . .
I came awake to a light touch in the gray light of predawn. Kind eyes looked on me, hooded.
“Come, join us,” she said.
“You can’t mean me.”
“But I do.”
“Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am?”
“It doesn’t matter to her. Come.”
She held out a hand. Guns rumbled in my ears; war broken out in my heart. Torn, I took her hand. “Who are you?”
“Mother Marie.”
I followed. A slight chill prickled the flesh on my arms as she marched me up the broad aisle to the foot of a towering altar overshadowed by some larger presence. Some among the ladies present undoubtedly took umbrage at my intrusion. Mother Marie deposited me in the front pew among her sisters and resumed her prayers.
I sat surrounded by nuns, sheltered from the disdain of polite society. A thistle among lilies, no other way to describe it. At some point in the ebb and flow of emotions battling within my breast, I stopped berating myself over what I was doing there. Seated so close, my eyes were drawn to the Lady. A queen by her crown. I listened.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
August 28, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 7
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
Amid the opening salvos of battle, Madam Margot seeks asylum with women of the city, led by a procession of Ursuline nuns and Our Lady of Consolation . . .
New Orleans’s womenfolk filled the pews. I huddled in the shadows of my place hoping no one noticed a jaded woman defiling their noble intention. They took up their prayers. I listened, in spite of myself. Simple words. What might these do against the terrors of war? Assuage the fears of the faithful? Slaughter and bloodshed had no part here. Yet here they brought their petitions for what? It remained to be seen.
Hail Mary, full of grace . . .
Grace, surely the lady be mannered. This grace I guessed something other. Received for goodness perhaps? I felt no grace. Doubted I’d know goodness grace were I to encounter it.
The Lord is with you . . .
With her. Certainly not with the likes of me.
Blessed are you among women . . .
Blessed among these women? No place for one such as me. I fought the urge to flee this place I did not belong, clinging to the presumption of safety I sought. Prayer grated on a lifetime of experience such as mine. Still, I listened. As the night wore on, I sensed the words soothe a part of me I hadn’t visited in more years than I cared to remember, a place unknown since childhood. What might it be? Innocence? My soul? I laughed. What nonsense. Nonsense and yet I dismissed my own hard-hearted cynicism and listened. Guns accompanied by prayers seemed less threatening somehow. At length I dozed.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Amid the opening salvos of battle, Madam Margot seeks asylum with women of the city, led by a procession of Ursuline nuns and Our Lady of Consolation . . .
New Orleans’s womenfolk filled the pews. I huddled in the shadows of my place hoping no one noticed a jaded woman defiling their noble intention. They took up their prayers. I listened, in spite of myself. Simple words. What might these do against the terrors of war? Assuage the fears of the faithful? Slaughter and bloodshed had no part here. Yet here they brought their petitions for what? It remained to be seen.
Hail Mary, full of grace . . .
Grace, surely the lady be mannered. This grace I guessed something other. Received for goodness perhaps? I felt no grace. Doubted I’d know goodness grace were I to encounter it.
The Lord is with you . . .
With her. Certainly not with the likes of me.
Blessed are you among women . . .
Blessed among these women? No place for one such as me. I fought the urge to flee this place I did not belong, clinging to the presumption of safety I sought. Prayer grated on a lifetime of experience such as mine. Still, I listened. As the night wore on, I sensed the words soothe a part of me I hadn’t visited in more years than I cared to remember, a place unknown since childhood. What might it be? Innocence? My soul? I laughed. What nonsense. Nonsense and yet I dismissed my own hard-hearted cynicism and listened. Guns accompanied by prayers seemed less threatening somehow. At length I dozed.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
August 21, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 6
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
Jackson fortifies an approach to the city, crossing Chalmette Plain. The British land on an island, advancing as expected on Jackson’s fortifications . . .
Opening salvos thundered in the distance January seventh, eighteen hundred fifteen. Rolling thunder sent tremors of foreboding through the city. The moment had come. What more could be done? All depended on a white-haired hickory cane and a citizen militia with little or no military training. All depended, it seemed, on no more than frail hope.
Mother Superior led them. The Ursuline Sisters processed down Royal Street, gray ghosts in early evening, bearing a stature of a lady draped in a golden robe, wearing a crown, and holding the infant Christ child. Our Lady of Consolation they called her. They carried her to the Cathedral in the town square, followed by a growing throng of the city’s women. Women filed past Chateau Le Belle in a demonstration of faith. I preferred to think in more pragmatic terms. Asylum in a church might prove the safest place when the British overrun the city as surely, they must.
I decided to follow along at the end of the procession. I steeled myself against the icy reception a woman such as I might receive from a congregation such as this in a Cathedral no less. Ladies of my repute are not much given to religious observance. I rifled my memories, trying to recall the last time I entered a church. I gave it up to fiddlesticks and slipped into a back pew in hopes my presence might go unnoticed. It did.
The Cathedral presented a massive edifice against the storm clouds of war. Dark stained wood glowed in a chorus of candles, scented of furniture polish and beeswax. Somehow, I sensed a feeling of peace despite the persistent rumble of guns. The sisters placed their statue before the candlelit altar and took to their knees.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Jackson fortifies an approach to the city, crossing Chalmette Plain. The British land on an island, advancing as expected on Jackson’s fortifications . . .
Opening salvos thundered in the distance January seventh, eighteen hundred fifteen. Rolling thunder sent tremors of foreboding through the city. The moment had come. What more could be done? All depended on a white-haired hickory cane and a citizen militia with little or no military training. All depended, it seemed, on no more than frail hope.
Mother Superior led them. The Ursuline Sisters processed down Royal Street, gray ghosts in early evening, bearing a stature of a lady draped in a golden robe, wearing a crown, and holding the infant Christ child. Our Lady of Consolation they called her. They carried her to the Cathedral in the town square, followed by a growing throng of the city’s women. Women filed past Chateau Le Belle in a demonstration of faith. I preferred to think in more pragmatic terms. Asylum in a church might prove the safest place when the British overrun the city as surely, they must.
I decided to follow along at the end of the procession. I steeled myself against the icy reception a woman such as I might receive from a congregation such as this in a Cathedral no less. Ladies of my repute are not much given to religious observance. I rifled my memories, trying to recall the last time I entered a church. I gave it up to fiddlesticks and slipped into a back pew in hopes my presence might go unnoticed. It did.
The Cathedral presented a massive edifice against the storm clouds of war. Dark stained wood glowed in a chorus of candles, scented of furniture polish and beeswax. Somehow, I sensed a feeling of peace despite the persistent rumble of guns. The sisters placed their statue before the candlelit altar and took to their knees.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
August 14, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 5
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
Anticipating a British landing at Mobile, Jackson commandeers the Spanish harbor fort . . .
Armed and garrisoned American guns repulsed the British fleet’s attempt to enter the becalmed harbor. New Orleans soon buoyed at news of victory. Lafitte admitted it no more than the opening skirmish in a battle yet to be joined. I suspected defeat would serve only to stiffen British resolve.
Jackson returned to the city to a hero’s welcome, though he hastily set aside ceremony to deploy his defenses. As December crawled toward Christmas, word came the British had landed on an island just off the coast. From there they ferried troops and munitions to the mainland in barges, preparing to march on the city. Chalmette Plain made the whispered rounds of the city. Lafitte merely smiled and affirmed the British assault would follow this plantation-lined lane to the city.
Jackson threw his considerable force of will and the mass of his patch-work army to construct a massive rampart southeast of the city. The fortification rose from the banks of a canal, which served as a moat crossing Chalmette Plain. It blocked passage between impassible swamp on the east and the Mississippi on the west. All would depend on the general’s plan of defense. All, events would reveal, did not rest on the handiwork of men.
The British reached the field in force just after Christmas. They continued ferrying men and munitions to reinforce their camp to its full strength. They made a study of the general’s breastworks and by sortie and skirmish probed for weakness. These efforts proved fruitless and costly as Kentucky sharpshooters and Tennessee riflemen took their toll at long range.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Anticipating a British landing at Mobile, Jackson commandeers the Spanish harbor fort . . .
Armed and garrisoned American guns repulsed the British fleet’s attempt to enter the becalmed harbor. New Orleans soon buoyed at news of victory. Lafitte admitted it no more than the opening skirmish in a battle yet to be joined. I suspected defeat would serve only to stiffen British resolve.
Jackson returned to the city to a hero’s welcome, though he hastily set aside ceremony to deploy his defenses. As December crawled toward Christmas, word came the British had landed on an island just off the coast. From there they ferried troops and munitions to the mainland in barges, preparing to march on the city. Chalmette Plain made the whispered rounds of the city. Lafitte merely smiled and affirmed the British assault would follow this plantation-lined lane to the city.
Jackson threw his considerable force of will and the mass of his patch-work army to construct a massive rampart southeast of the city. The fortification rose from the banks of a canal, which served as a moat crossing Chalmette Plain. It blocked passage between impassible swamp on the east and the Mississippi on the west. All would depend on the general’s plan of defense. All, events would reveal, did not rest on the handiwork of men.
The British reached the field in force just after Christmas. They continued ferrying men and munitions to reinforce their camp to its full strength. They made a study of the general’s breastworks and by sortie and skirmish probed for weakness. These efforts proved fruitless and costly as Kentucky sharpshooters and Tennessee riflemen took their toll at long range.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
Return to Facebook to comment
Ride easy,
Paul
August 7, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 4
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
Volunteers including a convent of Ursuline nuns flock to Jackson’s standard as Lafitte guides him to reconnoiter terrain surrounding the city . . .
The purpose of their journeying sought to anticipate the British advance so as to plan effective defenses. In the course of their reconnaissance, they identified several routes the British might pursue in an assault on the city. They made assessments of the defensibility of each. One plantation-lined approach hemmed in on two sides by river and marsh showed promise. Jean was closed mouthed beyond that. I suspected in due course his British contacts would be given glowing reports designed to lure them into a circumstance favorable to the Americans.
Nevertheless, Lafitte’s favorable estimation of the general did little to allay my fears. The British were known to be brutal and ruthless. They’d already sacked Washington City leaving the American capital a smoldering ruin. That victory overcame American regulars. If their best couldn’t defend their own capital against British might, what hope had these volunteer backwoodsmen against odds such as these? We didn’t linger in war talk over-long, the night called for more gentle pursuits. He left my stipend with the announcement Jackson had him off to Mobile in the morning.
We learned the general did indeed anticipate the British in Mobile. The red coats first attempted to land there, hoping to obtain the services of a port and a landward route to New Orleans. Jackson prevailed upon the Spanish governor at Mobile to allow him use of the harbor fort. The general could be most persuasive at bayonet-point.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Volunteers including a convent of Ursuline nuns flock to Jackson’s standard as Lafitte guides him to reconnoiter terrain surrounding the city . . .
The purpose of their journeying sought to anticipate the British advance so as to plan effective defenses. In the course of their reconnaissance, they identified several routes the British might pursue in an assault on the city. They made assessments of the defensibility of each. One plantation-lined approach hemmed in on two sides by river and marsh showed promise. Jean was closed mouthed beyond that. I suspected in due course his British contacts would be given glowing reports designed to lure them into a circumstance favorable to the Americans.
Nevertheless, Lafitte’s favorable estimation of the general did little to allay my fears. The British were known to be brutal and ruthless. They’d already sacked Washington City leaving the American capital a smoldering ruin. That victory overcame American regulars. If their best couldn’t defend their own capital against British might, what hope had these volunteer backwoodsmen against odds such as these? We didn’t linger in war talk over-long, the night called for more gentle pursuits. He left my stipend with the announcement Jackson had him off to Mobile in the morning.
We learned the general did indeed anticipate the British in Mobile. The red coats first attempted to land there, hoping to obtain the services of a port and a landward route to New Orleans. Jackson prevailed upon the Spanish governor at Mobile to allow him use of the harbor fort. The general could be most persuasive at bayonet-point.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
July 31, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 3
Last week in Lady of New Orleans
General Andrew Jackson arrives in New Orleans leading a rag-volunteer militia. Madam was not impressed . . .
It did little to inspire confidence this force could withstand determined assault by a British command fresh from thrashing Napoleon Bonaparte himself no less. Then there was General Jackson. Tall, gaunt and gangly, hair gone white, hardly the forceful figure of a military leader you’d entrust to defend you against the finest fighting force in the world. As a practical matter, it seemed all the American presence accomplished was to increase the anxiety of those of us who might be subjected to British invasion for having the misfortune to be purchased by our adventuresome neighbor to the north. Here, I confess to being among those fearful of the consequences as might befall our fair city from this folly.
Others soon joined Lafitte at Jackson’s standard. If we thought the first lot rag-tag, we should better have reserved judgment for the ranks of those who followed. Kentuckians, freed men, Indians and Creoles, a misaligned cadre if ever one were commanded. One offer of assistance escaped my notice as you will undoubtedly understand. The Ursuline Sisters of Our Lady of Consolation Convent offered the general the services of their house and school for the treatment of injured and wounded. Mother Marie de Vizon herself made the offer. As matters would unfold, the Ursuline war effort would not stop at bandaging.
In the weeks that followed into the fall, Jackson reconnoitered terrain surrounding the city with Lafitte as his guide. In this he won Lafitte’s admiration. Jean spoke of it one evening as we took cognac a la boudoir, I in a revealing lilac throw, Lafitte in glorious repose. The general’s instincts and planning impressed him.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
General Andrew Jackson arrives in New Orleans leading a rag-volunteer militia. Madam was not impressed . . .
It did little to inspire confidence this force could withstand determined assault by a British command fresh from thrashing Napoleon Bonaparte himself no less. Then there was General Jackson. Tall, gaunt and gangly, hair gone white, hardly the forceful figure of a military leader you’d entrust to defend you against the finest fighting force in the world. As a practical matter, it seemed all the American presence accomplished was to increase the anxiety of those of us who might be subjected to British invasion for having the misfortune to be purchased by our adventuresome neighbor to the north. Here, I confess to being among those fearful of the consequences as might befall our fair city from this folly.
Others soon joined Lafitte at Jackson’s standard. If we thought the first lot rag-tag, we should better have reserved judgment for the ranks of those who followed. Kentuckians, freed men, Indians and Creoles, a misaligned cadre if ever one were commanded. One offer of assistance escaped my notice as you will undoubtedly understand. The Ursuline Sisters of Our Lady of Consolation Convent offered the general the services of their house and school for the treatment of injured and wounded. Mother Marie de Vizon herself made the offer. As matters would unfold, the Ursuline war effort would not stop at bandaging.
In the weeks that followed into the fall, Jackson reconnoitered terrain surrounding the city with Lafitte as his guide. In this he won Lafitte’s admiration. Jean spoke of it one evening as we took cognac a la boudoir, I in a revealing lilac throw, Lafitte in glorious repose. The general’s instincts and planning impressed him.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
July 24, 2021
Lady of New Orleans episode 2
In 1814 the odor of war blew through Madam Margot B’Olivar’s Chateau Le Belle bordello, born on the breath of the dashing brigand, Jean Lafitte . . .
I shouldn’t admit it for professional reasons, but as I said, he was a favorite, so favored I might have entertained the devilishly handsome privateer purely on social considerations. Hush now with that. I have my reputation to consider. Fortunately, Monsieur Lafitte was too much the gentleman to gratuitously impose himself upon me.
Lafitte informed me, the British planned to invade New Orleans. Aside from the city’s wealth and charm, New Orleans afforded a seaport on the Mississippi and with it, gateway to waterways north and the whole of the western frontier. The British attempted to recruit Lafitte and his Baratarians to assist them in navigating the bayous for purposes of taking the city. Jean feigned accepting their offer while privately casting his lot with General Jackson in the role of double agent. I hadn’t thought of Jean as an American let alone a patriot. The city’s American association came about as a consequence of the American government’s purchase of the Louisiana Territory from France. For most of us, annexation by the United States and Mr. Madison’s war meant little. We were a port city. A melting pot of races, cultures, and nationalities. We scarcely got along among ourselves never mind worrying about the whimsy of some upstart nation to our north and east.
It all came to fruition a few weeks later when the general, some call Old Hickory, marched into town with a token force of regulars and a rag-tag assemblage of volunteer militiamen from Tennessee.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
I shouldn’t admit it for professional reasons, but as I said, he was a favorite, so favored I might have entertained the devilishly handsome privateer purely on social considerations. Hush now with that. I have my reputation to consider. Fortunately, Monsieur Lafitte was too much the gentleman to gratuitously impose himself upon me.
Lafitte informed me, the British planned to invade New Orleans. Aside from the city’s wealth and charm, New Orleans afforded a seaport on the Mississippi and with it, gateway to waterways north and the whole of the western frontier. The British attempted to recruit Lafitte and his Baratarians to assist them in navigating the bayous for purposes of taking the city. Jean feigned accepting their offer while privately casting his lot with General Jackson in the role of double agent. I hadn’t thought of Jean as an American let alone a patriot. The city’s American association came about as a consequence of the American government’s purchase of the Louisiana Territory from France. For most of us, annexation by the United States and Mr. Madison’s war meant little. We were a port city. A melting pot of races, cultures, and nationalities. We scarcely got along among ourselves never mind worrying about the whimsy of some upstart nation to our north and east.
It all came to fruition a few weeks later when the general, some call Old Hickory, marched into town with a token force of regulars and a rag-tag assemblage of volunteer militiamen from Tennessee.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
July 17, 2021
Lady of New Orleans
It all began with Mr. Madison’s ill-advised war. We paid it no mind for two years. The nearest fighting took place three hundred leagues from New Orleans. Then in the fall of 1814, the foul odor of war blew through New Orleans. We heard whispered rumors. Houses such as Chateau Le Belle, positively seethe with rumor. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Madame Margot B’Olivar, mistress of Chateau Le Belle, the finest, if I may be so bold, bordello in New Orleans. Nichol, one of my girls, first whispered the Indian fighter, Andrew Jackson raising an army for purposes of defending New Orleans. She got the story from one of the gentlemen she entertained. I took it with a pinch of salt. Though a stunningly beautiful high yellow octoroon, Nichol was known to have a vivid fascination with all manner of fanciful tales. I got the news first-hand from a most reliable source, one of my regulars, and may I say favorite, Jean Lafitte.
Monsieur Lafitte visited New Orleans frequently from his enclave on Grand Terre Island in Barataria Bay, owing to his considerable business interests in the city. He offered New Orleans’s privileged gentry all manner of fine merchandise for purchase at reasonable prices if one were inclined to overlook the dubious provenance of the goods. Did I mention some regard Jean Lafitte a pirate? Not a swashbuckling, evil smelling Jolly Roger pirate. Jean Lafitte cut the dashing figure a lovable gentleman brigand. Still, they called him a pirate, though most overlooked the allegation, preferring instead to enjoy the wares he and his band of Baratarians made available. I appreciated some of his finer curiosities, though I more enjoyed partaking in the profits of his booty by the sums he lavished on me for my favors.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Monsieur Lafitte visited New Orleans frequently from his enclave on Grand Terre Island in Barataria Bay, owing to his considerable business interests in the city. He offered New Orleans’s privileged gentry all manner of fine merchandise for purchase at reasonable prices if one were inclined to overlook the dubious provenance of the goods. Did I mention some regard Jean Lafitte a pirate? Not a swashbuckling, evil smelling Jolly Roger pirate. Jean Lafitte cut the dashing figure a lovable gentleman brigand. Still, they called him a pirate, though most overlooked the allegation, preferring instead to enjoy the wares he and his band of Baratarians made available. I appreciated some of his finer curiosities, though I more enjoyed partaking in the profits of his booty by the sums he lavished on me for my favors.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans continued, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
July 10, 2021
Return to Saturday Matinee Serials
Back in the day, movie theaters ran serial features on Saturday. Serial features were movies shown in episodes, usually along with a full-length feature. Each serial episode ended with the hero or heroine caught in some dire predicament or dramatic moment. The idea was to get kids to come back the following week to see what happens to their hero/heroine. Let’s revisit the concept with this post series.
Those of you who have been with me from the beginning of these weekly posts might be surprised to learn we have been doing this over ten years. The challenge is finding interesting and original subject matter week in and week out. Now thanks to Gale Cengage, publisher of my books under their Five Star imprint, we are able to serialize two of my short stories. Didn’t know I wrote short stories? Neither did I, until Hazel talked me into it.
Hazel Rumney is my Five Star editor. We’ve partnered in every one of my eleven going on twelve books with Five Star. Hazel edits short story anthologies for Five Star. I’ve been fortunate to have stories appear in two of them, The Spoilt Quilt, stories of women of the west and Hobnail, frontier stories of the American West. Having a story appear in one of Hazel’s anthologies is truly special. Your work ends up between the covers with some of the best writers in western literature today. It is an honor to be found among those names. You can see what we mean from the cover image leading this post.
We’ve been given permission to tell my two stories here in serial form. The first story, Lady of New Orleans is a Spoilt Quilt story. The second, Rata Remembers, taken from Hobnail, comes along further down the line. Best of all you don’t have to ride a bike or a bus to enjoy these serials. So, just like we did back in the day, settle back with a grease-stained bag of butter popcorn, a green river, and if you were flush that week, maybe a box of Milk Duds. Hope you enjoy the show.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
Those of you who have been with me from the beginning of these weekly posts might be surprised to learn we have been doing this over ten years. The challenge is finding interesting and original subject matter week in and week out. Now thanks to Gale Cengage, publisher of my books under their Five Star imprint, we are able to serialize two of my short stories. Didn’t know I wrote short stories? Neither did I, until Hazel talked me into it.
Hazel Rumney is my Five Star editor. We’ve partnered in every one of my eleven going on twelve books with Five Star. Hazel edits short story anthologies for Five Star. I’ve been fortunate to have stories appear in two of them, The Spoilt Quilt, stories of women of the west and Hobnail, frontier stories of the American West. Having a story appear in one of Hazel’s anthologies is truly special. Your work ends up between the covers with some of the best writers in western literature today. It is an honor to be found among those names. You can see what we mean from the cover image leading this post.
We’ve been given permission to tell my two stories here in serial form. The first story, Lady of New Orleans is a Spoilt Quilt story. The second, Rata Remembers, taken from Hobnail, comes along further down the line. Best of all you don’t have to ride a bike or a bus to enjoy these serials. So, just like we did back in the day, settle back with a grease-stained bag of butter popcorn, a green river, and if you were flush that week, maybe a box of Milk Duds. Hope you enjoy the show.
Next Week: Lady of New Orleans, www.amazon.com Search Books: The Spoilt Quilt.
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Ride easy,
Paul
