Author Kristy McCaffrey's Blog ~ Pathways

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Lassoing A Groom ~ A New Historical Western Romance Anthology

By Kristy McCaffrey

I’m pleased to announce the release of Lassoing A Groom, a new collection of historical western romance short stories. I’m very excited to be included in this anthology, alongside some of the best western romance writers today. These sweet stories will make you laugh and sigh, and keep you reading for that happily-ever-after.

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I’m giving away an e-copy! To be eligible, leave a comment below (be sure to include your email). If you’re reading this via email, click here to go directly to my blog. I’ll pick a winner by the end of the week.

How is a woman supposed to catch a husband? In the wild, wild west, she's got to find a way to Lasso a Groom! Some of them are lawmen...some are outlaws. Ranchers and homesteaders are fair game, as well--none of 'em are safe from love's lariat, or the women who finally manage to rope 'em in!

DON'T GO SNARING MY HEART by Jacquie Rogers

Can rancher Dex Madsen get past loner Betsy Lynch's goats and killer chicken to help save her mining claim and win her heart?

RACE TO MARRY by Kirsten Lynn

He's in town to tame a man-killer. She's accused of being one. When she proposes marriage the race is on.

WANTED: THE SHERIFF by Tracy Garrett

He's a confirmed bachelor...but she'll capture his heart.

CANYON CROSSING by Kristy McCaffrey

In search of her brother, Annabel Cross enters Grand Canyon. When U.S. Deputy Marshal Angus Docherty rescues her from a cliff side, her most guarded secret might save them.

THE PERFECT HOMESTEAD BRIDE by Linda Hubalek

Will a dangerous man from Gussie Hamner's past sabotage the future she's building with Noah Wilerson?

THE WORST OUTLAW IN THE WEST by Kathleen Rice Adams

An inept bank robber and a bossy spinster team up to rob an empty vault. What could go wrong?

More on my story:

In search of her brother, Annabel Cross enters Grand Canyon with a guide and a mule. When circumstances have her hanging from a cliff side, her rescue at the hands of U.S. Deputy Marshal Angus Docherty is fortuitous in more ways than one. He’s chasing the notorious Red Bandit, and it soon becomes clear that Annabel’s brother is mixed up with the criminal as well. While the marshal believes she may be in on a double-cross, she has a more pressing secret to hide. She can talk to deceased spirits, and she wonders whether to tell Angus about the old Apache ever near to him.

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Here’s an excerpt from “Canyon Crossing”:

Grand Canyon

August 1898

She dreamt she died in Grand Canyon.

Annabel’s eyes flew open and she gasped for breath. Lying on a narrow precipice, hundreds of feet from certain death, the Grand Canyon beckoned to her, ready to cradle her in its otherworldly embrace. Did she still dream?

Carefully, she pushed herself upright, hardly daring to breathe. Perched on the edge of a cliff, she was inches from a dramatic fall. A side glance to the east told her the sun was rising. What had happened? She and her guide, Frank Smith, had made camp, eaten a meal of beans, biscuits, and coffee, and then gone to sleep. Where was he? Where was the mule, Speck, who carried their gear? Had they fallen to their deaths?

Annabel sought to calm her panic. She was only twenty years old, she couldn’t die now. A slight movement caused her to slip; she frantically grabbed a scraggly bush, fear filling her with desperation. Finally, she stopped, barely daring to breathe lest it dislodge her further. Her mind raced for a solution.

Maybe Frank was nearby.

“Help.” Her voice was weak.

“Help!” Better, stronger, but not enough. “Help me! Help! Help!”

“Are you hurt?” a man yelled from above.

Annabel’s gaze flew upward, not recognizing the voice. Still, elation filled her. “No. I-I don’t believe so.”

“If I throw a rope, can you grab it?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll try.” She attempted to quiet her shaking.

A knotted cord slapped the ground beside her. Slowly, she reached out with her right hand and grasped it. Letting go of the bush, she clung to the lifeline with both hands. In small increments she moved upward, all the while straining not to slip off. Just as her aching palms screamed for release, she neared an unseen ledge that harbored the man and the life-saving tether. As she struggled to climb over the edge, a large shadow reached for her and strong arms yanked her to the safety of flat ground. A man hovered above, breathing heavily.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Annabel said. Drained of strength, she lay on the ground, facing the sky. “How did you find me?” She winced as the rising sun glowed behind him, casting the man into an enigmatic dark silhouette. Shading her eyes, a flash caught her eye. He wore a badge, a silver star.

“I heard your cries for help,” he replied.

“Are you a lawman?”

“U.S. Deputy Marshal Angus Docherty, miss.” He tipped his hat. “How is it that you’re down here?”

Annabel scooted to a sitting position away from the precipitous drop-off and scanned the surroundings. The trail from the Grand View Hotel was narrow, but she and Frank had made camp here anyway. There’d really been no choice. But now, there was no sign of it at all. Frank, Speck, and all the gear had vanished. Had she fallen asleep and rolled out of the encampment? It was certainly possible. She could’ve perished in her sleep and not even known it. Her heart pounded from the near-miss with death.

“I was with a guide and a mule,” she said. “But I don’t know where they are.” The entire incident seemed incomprehensible to her.

“What’s your name?” the marshal asked.

“Annabel C-C-Cross.” She paused, attempting to quiet her unsteady nerves. It’ll be alright, Annabel. Just calm yourself.

“You’ve no idea how you came to be down there?” The man nodded just beyond the cliff from which he’d recently rescued her.

“I must’ve fallen in my sleep.”

“Why did the guide leave you behind, then?” The marshal’s voice—recovered from his exertions—spoke in careful measures.

“Maybe he didn’t,” she insisted. “Maybe he fell, too.”

“With all of your gear, and the mule?” He sounded skeptical. “There’s no sign of anything resembling a camp here.”

Annabel didn’t know what to think. The truth was, she hardly knew Frank Smith, but when she’d employed him at the Grand View Hotel on the South Rim three days ago the older man had appeared quite amiable and helpful. Granted, he wasn’t a guide, but rather a prospector, and a little off the mark in intelligence, but he knew of her brother and said he’d take her to him. It was exactly what she needed.

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Lassoing A Groom is now available!!

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Costa Rica: Golfo Dulce And Osa Peninsula

By Kristy McCaffrey

I just returned from the mystical rainforest of southern Costa Rica. Instead of boring you with insights from my trip, such as: bring a headband because in 95% humidity you will have no hairstyle...ever, or bring U.S. Dollars (in small bills) because for some reason the local population want nothing to do with their own currency (colones), or pack light but bring as much underwear as you can because even after a sink rinsing, they still won't smell fresh (did I mention that you sweat constantly?).

Instead, I'll let my photos transport you to the magic of one of the most bio-diverse places on earth.

Our room at Playa Nicuesa Lodge, located on the
Golfo Dulce.

The rainforest of Costa Rica.

Spotted Dolphin

Sea snake--a rare sight and very poisonous.

Sign on beach at Playa Nicuesa.

And here's the reason for the sign. The locals call
him Fernando.

Gecko.

Bat in an abandoned barn.

A local frog hanging out near our room.

Pit viper--very poisonous.

Our mode of transportation.

Near the Drake Bay airport (and I use the term 'airport'
loosely), we found several of the mysterious stone
spheres known to exist in Costa Rica. Usually made of a type
of basalt, limestone, or sandstone, they can weigh up to
15 tons and are thought to be anywhere between 1000 to
2000 years old. Their purpose isn't known. An interesting side
note: similar spheres have been found in Mexico, Peru,
Bosnia, New Zealand, and one on Easter Island.

Brahman cattle.

Mica snake ~ non-poisonous.

Our accommodation at Copa de Arbol
in Drake Bay.

The lodge staff would greet us at the end of the day
with a fresh coconut. Very refreshing!

Brown boobys wait on a log for dolphins to herd fish
to the surface.

A scarlet macaw, so beautiful and so noisy. Our guide used
my phone camera to photograph this one high in the rainforest
canopy by placing it up to his high-powered scope.

Spider monkey in Corcovado National Park.

Spider monkey.

Howler monkey showing his testes and urinating.
We got the hint--he's in charge.

Howler monkey. Only the alpha males howl, a very eerie sound
that echoes throughout the rainforest.

Coati, similar to a raccoon.

Sleeping tapir, a large herbivorous mammal.

Toucan.

Capuchin, or white-faced, monkey.

Capuchin monkey.

Iguana.

Vulture.

Squirrel monkeys.

Squirrel monkey.

Coffee beans. The harvest is in the fall.

Leafcutter ant. They're everywhere and haul leaves back to the
nest to feed a fungus, which they dine upon.

On our last night in San Jose, we found this nest just outside
our lodging door. Two baby birds had just hatched, with
a third on the way.

After long days in the jungle, a mango margarita hit
the spot...

...along with a traditional Costa
Rican meal, the casado.

When in Rome...sturdy rubber hiking
boots make trekking through
the rainforest much more enjoyable.
Pura Vida!

Thursday, April 24, 2014

The Pacific Gray Whales Of Baja

By Kristy McCaffrey

“This species of whale manifests the greatest affection for its young…”

~ Charles Melville Scammon, 1874

Look behind you...a gray whale wants to say hello.

In early April, I had the opportunity to visit Laguna San Ignacio, an inlet located on the Pacific coast side of Baja Sur California, Mexico. A remote, undeveloped area with miles of salt flats, it boasts one of the most amazing interactions happening today between humans and wildlife. It’s here that Pacific gray whale mothers bring their calves directly to small skiffs, introduce themselves, and visit. Touching the slick and rubbery skin is a given, but if you’re lucky you can plant a kiss on a whale snout, or perhaps run a hand along the baleen when a whale opens its mouth for you.

At Laguna San Ignacio, a group of Kearneys prepare to meet the whales.
(Pictured--from left: my uncles, Pat Kearney and Kevin Kearney,
my cousin Terry Kearney, my aunt Barbara Kearney and my mom,
Patty Kearney)

A Pacific gray whale calf.

A gray whale calf with my Uncle Kevin.

A gray calf with my dad, Rick Kearney.

My mom makes contact with a baby gray whale.

How did this come to be?

In the latter part of the 1800’s, gray whales, known as “devil-fish,” were considered extremely dangerous. Within Laguna San Ignacio, an American whaling fleet led by Charles Melville Scammon slaughtered hundreds—the lagoon a haven for the whales to mate and give birth each winter. Scammon, a daring and innovative whaler who became the first Western man to find a safe passage into the inlet, was, without a doubt, responsible for bringing the gray whale to the brink of extinction. Ironically, he has also greatly influenced what we know about the creatures today, with his meticulous documentation of the grays’ migration patterns, anatomy, and behaviors.

Charles Melville Scammon.

Rendering of a gray whale.

A Pacific gray whale mother approaches the boat.

In 1972, however, a new relationship was forged between man and mammal. A local Mexican fisherman, Pachico Mayoral, was in his skiff in Laguna San Ignacio one February day, fishing for grouper, when a gray whale surfaced beside him. He was, understandably, fearful. But after a time, when the animal didn’t leave, he felt compelled to put his hand into the water. The whale rubbed against him. And so began an unprecedented communion between humans and whales.

Pachico Mayoral--friend, guardian, and advocate of the gray whale.
He was the first human to touch a whale in its natural habitat.
He passed away on Oct. 22, 2013, but his sons continue
to give tours in Laguna San Ignacio.

A baby gray beside its mother.

Coincidentally, it was during this time that the Mexican government decreed the San Ignacio Lagoon habitat a refuge for migratory birds and wildlife. The same year, the United Nations voted for a resolution calling for the end of worldwide whaling and the U.S. Congress passed the Marine Mammal Protection Act. In 1973, the Endangered Species Act was passed with gray whales on the list; they would remain there for the next twenty years, leading to a dramatic recovery of the species. (Unfortunately, gray whales in the North Atlantic have been extinct since the 1800’s, likely due to whaling.)

A baby rolls to its side.

Why the whales make contact remains a mystery. Experts believe it’s a learned behavior, handed down from mothers to calves, though a legend abounds that it was Pachico who taught them. Dr. Jim Sumich, who has studied gray whales for decades, says, “Friendly encounters are not gray whale behaviors, they are gray whale-human interactions.”

The grays are the most heavily-barnacled of all whales, carrying up to a ton of the limestone-shelled creatures on
their bodies. Barnacles don't harm the whales, but sea lice--parasites that feed on the skin--can.
A silvery fish called a topsmelt will groom the whales in the calving lagoons, ridding them of these unwanted
hitchhikers.

Gray whales, while not the largest of the whale species (blue whales take that honor), have the longest migration of any animal on earth. During the course of a year they travel from three warm lagoons in central Baja (in addition to Laguna San Ignacio, they are also found in Magdalena Bay and Laguna Ojo de Liebre, although San Ignacio is reputed to have the highest percentage of “friendly” encounters) to Arctic feeding grounds near the Bering Strait, covering, at a minimum, 10,000 miles roundtrip. A 30-ton whale will expend enough energy on the return trip to shed 8-tons of its blubber. Gray whales have no teeth, rather they feed primarily on tiny, shrimplike amphipods by straining the food through a fringed curtain of baleen—long bristles made of the same substance as human fingernails—which hangs from the roof of the mouth.

Gray whales have the longest migration of
any animal on earth.

The baleen is visible in the upper jaw.

Calf and mom. A mother gray will sometimes support her youngster
from underneath, showing off her baby to the appreciative
and awe-struck humans.

Gray whales, with lifespans anywhere from 55 to 70 years long, reach maturation between 5 to 11 years of age. Pregnancies last 12-13 months, so females generally give birth every other year. It’s believed they migrate to the Baja lagoons as a protective measure to care for their young, although some travel simply to mate, departing soon after. Orcas, the grays natural predator, won’t enter the inlets, for reasons still not entirely understood although it’s been suggested that the shallow lagoon impedes echolocation, thus making the killer whales too vulnerable.

My Aunt Barbara greeting mom (on right) and baby (in the center).

Grays hug the shore during their migrations, and as a result have been seen by more people, in more places, than any other leviathan. The whale-watching multi-million dollar industry began in the 1950’s, but the grays remained aggressive toward researchers and fisherman throughout that time, especially in the lagoon, frequently ramming boats or smashing them with a flick of their tail flukes.

Only two whales have ever been in captivity, and they were both grays. In the ‘90’s, on two separate occasions, gray calves were kept for several months and then released into the wild.

A gray whale mother.

Whale watching is strictly regulated within Laguna San Ignacio by the Mexican government. Only twelve boats can be out at any given time, and none are allowed in the southern inlet, or Upper Lagoon, where calves are nurtured. Only in the open stretch of the north inlet are the skiffs permitted to approach whales, but they must remain within a thirty meter radius. And only two boats may circle any one whale at a time. It’s always the grays’ choice whether to approach a boat. On windy, choppy days they stay away, because it’s said they know they would damage the skiffs.

The v-shaped blow spout is visible. It releases a heart-shaped plume.

Terry Marcer, owner of Ignacio Springs Bed and Breakfast (located in the town of San Ignacio), shared the story of a woman determined to touch a whale one season. It was January, which is generally not the best time for interaction because males are more interested in mating and many of the females have given, or are about to give, birth. As a large whale swam past the skiff, this woman leaned so far out that she fell into the water. The boat’s driver panicked and sped away. However, the whale very calmly surfaced, and supported the woman until the driver gathered his wits and returned to retrieve her.

It was a challenge to balance taking video and photos while
at the same time enjoying their company.

Homero Aridjis—author, poet, and Latin America’s leading environmental activist who, in the year 2000, was directly involved in defeating the Japanese conglomerate Mitsubishi from extracting salt from the lagoon and thereby saved the gray whale’s refuge and important birthing habitat—has this to say about encountering this magnificent beast, “It is a magic touch, a communication of another kind, beyond species, where you are speaking in some supersensory way. You can feel them. And you feel they can feel you. How people become transformed because they touch a whale is inexpressible. You can’t explain why.”

Interacting with a wild whale is a life-changing and sacred endeavor.

On this April day, I’m privileged to meet several mother-calf pairs, humbled by their curious and gracious natures. The babies generally arrive first at our 26-foot long panga, a Baja open boat similar to a dory, while mom waits in the water just beyond. But soon, she approaches as well, hovering beneath our skiff, blowing geysers of water onto us. But the wooing isn’t complete until she rolls to the side and looks me in the eye.