While writing BLOOD CURSE, and SACRED LEGACY books 2 & 3 in the Branded Trilogy, I had to do more research than I expected. I ended up changing the date three times going back to my original timeline of 1723. This placed me during the Colonial era. I remembered learning in school a bit about the 13 Colonial States and how they were founded, but that was as far as my knowledge went. I’d never been to the Colonies during the 1700’s and in fact I really had no idea what went on during that time period.
Out came the books, websites, and trips to the library. I needed to know certain facts in order to even begin plotting my story. Where would the events take place? Who lived there? What did they eat? What did they wear? So many questions that only researching could answer.
Research is a large part of my writing process, and I’m not going to lie when I tell you sometimes I absolutely love it, while others I loath it. This really is a love-hate relationship. The love part of the research for me is learning new things, discovering a plot twist, or idea, and of course the tiny part inside my soul that wishes she could go back in time just once to experience life then.
The loath part comes when I cannot find something I desperately need for a book, or I have to read countless bits of information for one small sentence in the story. This happened in Blood Curse when I was researching Merchant ships. I read and read and read everything I could find on these large trading vessels only to use very little within the story itself.
However, I do not want to discuss the research I did use, but rather the facts I found interesting and appalling at the same time. In order for my story to flow I needed to either not include some of the details I found, or romanticize them so my reader was not repulsed.
Bathing routines: While we bathe at least once a day, back in Colonial times bathing was done once every six months if that. The act of washing ones self was not a priority. In fact, everyone had body odor back then, so it was unnoticed among each other and became somewhat of a common smell. For those sensitive to the smell a handkerchief doused in perfume was held over the nostrils and mouth.
The labor and time it took to draw a bath did not appeal to most and therefore was put off as a chore rather than a pleasure.
Bathing rituals when done were often a family affair. The tub would be filled allowing the head of the house to bathe first, then all the other males, the women and lastly the children. The water had to be black by then and I’m sure smelled awful.
Perukes: These were the white head wigs often powdered and scented with lavender or orange oil. Perukes came into fashion during the 1500’s in England because of the syphilis outbreak. Men used them to disguise their STD, which resulted in baldness; open sores on the body including face and head, and could also lead to blindness. The headdress was not looked upon as fashion but rather a necessity at hiding ones horrendous features.
In 1655 the King of France, Louis XIV commissioned 48 wig makers to help hide his balding at the age of 17. His cousin Charles II King of England also did the same thing and the fad caught on. Soon England’s higher and middle classes were wearing Perukes.
The fashion carried on throughout the colonies and most everyone wore a headdress of white goat, horse or human hair. These heavy, and often filled with nits hair pieces would go unwashed for months.
Disease: Due to the uncleanliness of the people and their belongings disease ran rampant throughout the Colonies. In the early days the people had no knowledge on how to fight the sickness, often being the first time they’d seen the disease.
As time passed physicians grew an understanding of how to aid and heal the sick. But death was still a very common outcome to most who suffered from them.
Epidemics of Small Pox, Yellow Fever and Plague killed thousands. These diseases purged the Colonies ceasing all work, closing businesses and caused the people to flee the country or go into hiding.
At one point the death rate for Yellow Fever was so high people had to work day and night to bury the dead.
Malaria, Typhoid, and Beriberi were all common diseases that could lead to death if not treated.
by Kat Flannery
Genre: Historical western paranormal romance
Publisher: Imajin Books
July 31, 2016
Number of pages: 175
Word Count: 72,000
Cover Artist: Ryan Thomas Doan
Tsura is a Chuvani, and with that comes great power…
Desperate to escape the memories that haunt her, Tsura Harris returns to Jamestown, the very place her mother forbade her to go. A gifted Chuvani, Tsura has sworn off all magick, thus making her vulnerable to the Renoldi clan, who wish to kill her and take the pendant that is the key to her power.
Red Wolf is hell-bent on living his life on the sea, until he runs into Tsura on the docks. His pride wounded from her rejection years before, he hoped to never see her again. But when the evil Corsair, Romulus Black, demands to know where she is, Red Wolf must protect her, as is his duty.
But is duty and honor his only reason, or does Red Wolf still carry a flame of love in his heart? And will Tsura finally discover her destiny?
CHAPTER ONE SACRED LEGACY
Jamestown, Virginia, July 1740
Tsura Harris lifted the hem of her green skirt and stepped up onto the wooden plank. She clutched her reticule in her right hand and reached for the rope with her left. The planked bridge swayed as the boat rocked against the seas. She stared at the water below. White-capped waves crashed along the ship’s hull, rocking the boat. She inhaled, forced her chin up, and took another step. She walked the short distance to the boardwalk, releasing the breath she’d held when her boot touched land. She planted both feet upon the wooden dock and set her shoulders, but the reminder of why she was here intensified the weight upon her chest. Despair was her shadow, and it was with her today.
“Sister!”
Her brother’s deep, masculine shout came from above.
She shaded her eyes from the hot afternoon sun and peered up at him. His stature always shocked her. Micah Walker was six foot with broad shoulders and strong arms, a spitting image of their father, Kade. His white shirt gaped open to show the tanned skin beneath, a sign of too many days out on the water. Long blond hair waved in the breeze. Her handsome brother had his pick of the ladies, but still hadn’t settled down. It was a shame. She knew he wanted children and a wife of his own, but his heart belonged to the sea and time would lend him those favors only when he was ready.
“You must wait,” he called and raced past his
men carrying crates of goods onto the wharf.
She placed her bag onto the wooden walk and clasped her gloved hands together.
He reached her, his cheeks glowing and dark eyes lit with mischief. Before she could discourage him, he picked her up and swung her around. Her boots kicked the bag, knocking it over, as his strong arms held her tight.
Micah had always been affectionate. He never shied away from holding her hand, kissing her cheek, or teasing her like a brother would. He’d come to her side when she needed him the most. When her life had fallen apart, and she couldn’t see past her own misery to pick herself up. He had carried her, and she loved him for it.
“You cannot go off without wishing me well.” He smiled down at her.
“If you would simply release me, I’d be able to make it so,” she retorted. He was the only one, aside from her mother and father, who she allowed to touch her.
“Very well, nit.” He set her in front of him. The nickname he used for her was one of endearment and came from her pestering him as a child.
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt before bringing her eyes to meet his.
“You do not need to do this.”
She glanced away unable to stare at him any longer.
“Come sail with me.”
She shook her head. The urge to leave caused her legs to shake. She couldn’t be around him any longer. His cheerful disposition haunted her and made her think of things she’d rather forget.
“I know you don’t want to speak of this, but—”
“No, Micah.”
“Tsura, you need to forgive—”
“Forgiveness is not within my heart.”
“It surely is.”
She shook her head, careful not to release the many pins holding her thick corkscrew curls in a loose chignon.
“It is in all of us.”
She glared at her brother.
“Do not speak to me of forgiveness, brother. My heart is cold to it.”
His dark eyes watered, and she knew her words had hurt him, but she didn’t care. It was better this way—it was easier.
“Will you not reconsider?”
“No.”
“Please stay. I will protect you.”
Protection was not what she needed. She could care less if she died. It’d be a relief from the constant pain she felt each day.
“I should’ve taken you to mother and father.”
“Do not speak to them of my presence here.”
“They will understand.”
“Not one word.”
Micah sighed. “As you wish.”
“I must go.” Anger pressed on her spine, and she straightened.
His shoulders dropped.
“Be safe. Trust no one.”
She nodded.
“I port back in Jamestown one month to this day. You will be here.”
It was not a question, and she didn’t know if a month would be enough. Would the time between then and now ever fade from her soul? Would she be ready to return? She didn’t know if she could go back and so she didn’t answer.
“Hiram knows of you coming?”
“He does.”
“Very well.” He straightened and smiled. “Know that I love you.”
She fought the tears. If Micah saw one ounce of sadness within her, he’d throw her back aboard the Jade and take her with him.
“As I you.” She refused to say the words.
He picked up her bag and handed it to her.
“Thank you. Now go. You have work to do and whores to see.” She smirked.
“Ah, that I do.” He pulled her into a final embrace. “You will find your way. I am sure of it.” He held her away from him, and his eyes searched hers. “Remember who you are.”
She pressed on his chest and stepped out of his embrace. She couldn’t help the furrow of her brow or the set of her chin. The reminders of the life she led were never to be forgotten, and because of that she’d be forever lost.
Micah sensed the change in her and left it alone. He bowed, and with a final kiss to her forehead he walked away.
She turned, unable to watch him go, raised to believe it was a sign of weakness, of regret to watch one leave your life. This was meant to be. The world around her had tilted, and even though she wanted nothing more than to go back in time to the lavish house on the hill where she’d felt content, where laughter was but an expression upon her lips, she could not. What had been was no more, and she’d do right to remember it. One year had passed, but the ache inside her soul still remained.
Jamestown, Virginia, July 1740
Tsura Harris lifted the hem of her green skirt and stepped up onto the wooden plank. She clutched her reticule in her right hand and reached for the rope with her left. The planked bridge swayed as the boat rocked against the seas. She stared at the water below. White-capped waves crashed along the ship’s hull, rocking the boat. She inhaled, forced her chin up, and took another step. She walked the short distance to the boardwalk, releasing the breath she’d held when her boot touched land. She planted both feet upon the wooden dock and set her shoulders, but the reminder of why she was here intensified the weight upon her chest. Despair was her shadow, and it was with her today.
“Sister!”
Her brother’s deep, masculine shout came from above.
She shaded her eyes from the hot afternoon sun and peered up at him. His stature always shocked her. Micah Walker was six foot with broad shoulders and strong arms, a spitting image of their father, Kade. His white shirt gaped open to show the tanned skin beneath, a sign of too many days out on the water. Long blond hair waved in the breeze. Her handsome brother had his pick of the ladies, but still hadn’t settled down. It was a shame. She knew he wanted children and a wife of his own, but his heart belonged to the sea and time would lend him those favors only when he was ready.
“You must wait,” he called and raced past his
men carrying crates of goods onto the wharf.
She placed her bag onto the wooden walk and clasped her gloved hands together.
He reached her, his cheeks glowing and dark eyes lit with mischief. Before she could discourage him, he picked her up and swung her around. Her boots kicked the bag, knocking it over, as his strong arms held her tight.
Micah had always been affectionate. He never shied away from holding her hand, kissing her cheek, or teasing her like a brother would. He’d come to her side when she needed him the most. When her life had fallen apart, and she couldn’t see past her own misery to pick herself up. He had carried her, and she loved him for it.
“You cannot go off without wishing me well.” He smiled down at her.
“If you would simply release me, I’d be able to make it so,” she retorted. He was the only one, aside from her mother and father, who she allowed to touch her.
“Very well, nit.” He set her in front of him. The nickname he used for her was one of endearment and came from her pestering him as a child.
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt before bringing her eyes to meet his.
“You do not need to do this.”
She glanced away unable to stare at him any longer.
“Come sail with me.”
She shook her head. The urge to leave caused her legs to shake. She couldn’t be around him any longer. His cheerful disposition haunted her and made her think of things she’d rather forget.
“I know you don’t want to speak of this, but—”
“No, Micah.”
“Tsura, you need to forgive—”
“Forgiveness is not within my heart.”
“It surely is.”
She shook her head, careful not to release the many pins holding her thick corkscrew curls in a loose chignon.
“It is in all of us.”
She glared at her brother.
“Do not speak to me of forgiveness, brother. My heart is cold to it.”
His dark eyes watered, and she knew her words had hurt him, but she didn’t care. It was better this way—it was easier.
“Will you not reconsider?”
“No.”
“Please stay. I will protect you.”
Protection was not what she needed. She could care less if she died. It’d be a relief from the constant pain she felt each day.
“I should’ve taken you to mother and father.”
“Do not speak to them of my presence here.”
“They will understand.”
“Not one word.”
Micah sighed. “As you wish.”
“I must go.” Anger pressed on her spine, and she straightened.
His shoulders dropped.
“Be safe. Trust no one.”
She nodded.
“I port back in Jamestown one month to this day. You will be here.”
It was not a question, and she didn’t know if a month would be enough. Would the time between then and now ever fade from her soul? Would she be ready to return? She didn’t know if she could go back and so she didn’t answer.
“Hiram knows of you coming?”
“He does.”
“Very well.” He straightened and smiled. “Know that I love you.”
She fought the tears. If Micah saw one ounce of sadness within her, he’d throw her back aboard the Jade and take her with him.
“As I you.” She refused to say the words.
He picked up her bag and handed it to her.
“Thank you. Now go. You have work to do and whores to see.” She smirked.
“Ah, that I do.” He pulled her into a final embrace. “You will find your way. I am sure of it.” He held her away from him, and his eyes searched hers. “Remember who you are.”
She pressed on his chest and stepped out of his embrace. She couldn’t help the furrow of her brow or the set of her chin. The reminders of the life she led were never to be forgotten, and because of that she’d be forever lost.
Micah sensed the change in her and left it alone. He bowed, and with a final kiss to her forehead he walked away.
She turned, unable to watch him go, raised to believe it was a sign of weakness, of regret to watch one leave your life. This was meant to be. The world around her had tilted, and even though she wanted nothing more than to go back in time to the lavish house on the hill where she’d felt content, where laughter was but an expression upon her lips, she could not. What had been was no more, and she’d do right to remember it. One year had passed, but the ache inside her soul still remained.
About the Author:
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Kat Flannery’s love of history shows in her novels. She is an avid reader of historical, suspense, paranormal, and romance. She has her Certificate in Freelance and Business Writing. A member of many writing groups, Kat enjoys promoting other authors on her blog. She’s been published in numerous periodicals throughout her career.
Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been an Amazon Top 100 Paid bestseller. LAKOTA HONOR and BLOOD CURSE (Branded Trilogy) are Kat’s two award-winning novels and HAZARDOUS UNIONS is Kat’s first novella. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.
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Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been an Amazon Top 100 Paid bestseller. LAKOTA HONOR and BLOOD CURSE (Branded Trilogy) are Kat’s two award-winning novels and HAZARDOUS UNIONS is Kat’s first novella. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.
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