Book Genre: Historical Fiction
Release Date: May 2014
Tags/Labels: Dobyns Chronicles, Shirley McLain, Historical Fiction, Historical Fiction Writers, Historical Fiction Authors, virtual book tour café, Xlibris Publishing,
Amazon Print Purchase Link: http://amzn.to/1yL4hKC
Amazon Kindle Purchase Link: http://amzn.to/1vG9zWz
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Dobyns Chronicles is about a young boy whose father was a cowboy and whose mother was Cherokee Indian. His parents worked very hard on their ranch to raise their children and survive, but tragedy ends Charlie’s way of life. He finds that it is up to him to raise his siblings, David and Viola. His passion for dignity and life is what helps him to survive.
This book allows you to follow his life and live the adventures, ups and downs that shaped him into the man that he became and that of his family for generations. It’s a book of twists and turns, and a rollercoaster of emotions that will make it hard for you to put the book down.
Ma was Cherokee Indian. She had some different ways about her, but she was a Christian. I think Pa said she was Church of Christ, so I think that made us Church of Christ also.
Ma was strict on us boys. I can't tell you the number of times she warmed our backside with Pa's belt or washed our mouths out with soap for saying a curse word. Pa could get away with it, but my brother and me sure couldn't.
Since Viola was too small to be of help to Ma. Until Viola was old enough, David and me helped with house chores. We also helped Pa out in the field. Most of the time, I was the one in the field and David took care of the chores around the house. He may have been small, but he sure was strong. I guess we were all strong, from cutting wood, pulling water from the well and general hard work.
It seemed like Ma was always making clothes, and cooking even though I knew she did other chores. She taught Viola how to make butter at an early age. Ma let her move the dasher up and down in the churn for as long as she could. I think Ma was helping Viola develop muscles like us boys. Sometimes Ma would have Viola go out to the woodshed and pick up small pieces of wood for kindling. That sturdy old wood cook stove used lots of wood. That stove would use a couple ricks of wood a year.
In the summertime, Ma got up early and got the rest of us up, and built a fire outside to cook, so we wouldn't have such a hot house. She’d usually cook enough at one time to keep us fed all-day I can still taste those biscuits made in the Dutch oven. We always had fresh honey or molasses to eat with our biscuits. Times were good then. It’s strange what kids think they know, but really don't.
The summer I turned six, was a dry and hot one with plenty of lightning storms, but no rain. We had a large crop of corn standing in the field ready to harvest for livestock feed. I’d ate my fill of fresh corn, so now the stalks and ears were continuing to dry. Pa took some of the ears and had it ground for ma, so she could make her crackling corn bread and mush during the winter. We loved that sweet corn meal mush for breakfast. Sometimes she would put it in a bread pan and let it get cold, slice it and then pan fry it for lunch. I remember the temperature being so hot outside; I could feel my skin burn through my shirt.
I was born in the bay area of California but my family moved my sister and I back to Oklahoma, where they were both from. I’ve lived many different places but I always come back home.
I started the sixth grade in the Oklahoma school system and graduated in 1967. I started to college for a nursing degree but decided that “my man” was much more important. I became an RN with an Associate degree in 1971. Then many years later I went back to school with my sister who was also an RN and we obtained our Bachelor’s degree in nursing.
I am married to a man who spoils me rotten, and I love it. I have two grown children, six grandchildren and twin Great-grandsons. My family has grown by leaps and bounds. My husband and I now have a fur family at home. We have five dogs and three cats and they are all spoiled rotten. It’s like living in a house full of three year olds. When one is not into something another one is.
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