Cheryle Coapstick Author Page

For all the readers on your list who've always wanted to know about Alaska. What was it like to grow up in the Territory? How did WWII affect those living there? Natives. Russians. Americans...how did the different cultures meld? Based on the stories I head from my mama.

My line editor missed it. My copy editor missed it. My proofreader missed it. I missed it.
Heaven's Ray is Book 5. The. correction has been sent to Amazon and Ingramspark, but those of you who have already ordered They Settled in Sitka will notice this right after the epilogue, sigh.

Profit margins must be thin at this place 😂

"This morning, during first period, my kids could tell that I was a little off. When they asked why I wasn’t acting normal I explained to them that my wife’s father had passed away this weekend and that I was worried about her. They all said they were sorry and then we got started on our work. While standing at my door giving hugs and high fives at dismissal to 2nd period one little girl put something in my hand. She told me “This is for your wife. I know it was real expensive when my daddy died and I don’t really want ice cream today anyways.” I wish the world would pay more attention to children. We could learn a lot from them."
Credit: Price Lawrence

I stumbled across this unusual book, 7 1/2 by 12 inches. From attending Lincoln's inauguration as a child, to convincing President Hayes to give her husband a government job during rampant unemployment to accompanying her husband to an island in the Bering Sea. The first white woman on St George in the Pribolofs, this woman is formidable!
She reminds me of Miss Ruth in my own books.

It's amazing to me how much post production is needed once a manuscript is written. Since my computer skills are limited, I have Andy Towler do my covers and interior design. He has done the formatting and the manuscript is at the line editors for one final check. We are getting close to knowing how THEY SETTLED IN SITKA.
In the meantime here is a peek at the back of the book.

Andy Towler at Aplusscreative is my cover designer. This is the possible cover for my next book. I think the only tweak is to make the church a bit larger. What do you think?

ALASKA'S MAMA is on the New Fiction wall at the library in a nearby town!!! How exciting is that?

Thoene friends and family, Fear (anxiety) is a Spirit! It does not come from God. Look closely at the three attributes God has given to you. POWER! LOVE! SOUND MIND!
All these 3 are based on Biblical principles. Live righteously and courageously! You have won the battle against evil because of the blood of Jesus the warrior has shed for you. Use your sound mind and you will know exactly what to do. Never be afraid.

Alaska's Firy by Cheryle Coapstick | ReadersMagnet Authors' Lounge Alaska's Firy Author Cheryle Coapstick heard humorous and adventurous stories about her mother’s childhood in the Territory of Alaska.

One room in the Russian Bishop'shouse is filled with a diorama of New Archangel, the name the Russians had for Sitka. I added an artists rendition of the original castle.

When you visit Sitka, be sure to stop at the Russian Bishops House, fully restored, reflecting the time when Russia controlled Alaska.

This is the Pioneer's Home in Sitka, Alaska. It is featured in all of my books. Built in the 1930s on the site of the old Russian Barracks as a place for old sourdough to live out their lives. If you are ever in Sitka, I hope you visit. It's a wonderful building and you will enjoy visiting the oldsters.

In book four, THEY SETTLED IN SITKA, we see Agrefena as a young Tlingit girl making baskets with her Auntie. A time-consuming and difficult task...the results are amazing.

I love this. A special thanks to the sweet lady from Florida that posted this!!!

I have a nasty head cold but the characters in my head will not leave me alone. I don't have the energy to get them out of my head and into the computer. I tried sneezing them out...coughing and hacking them out...no, they are lodged behind my sinuses and making my eyes water.

And boy are they trying to tear it down! Watch this video right away and you'll thank me later https://buff.ly/3ILlVqV

Relaxing this evening...sometimes when you are not writin" ya gotta be readin'

Here is the prologue to THEY SETTLED IN SITKA to be released in the fall.

New Archangel, Russian America
October 1867
“What is it, Tasha?” Princess Maria Maksutov, petite, dark-haired, and beautiful, let the lace curtain drop and turned to face the young Creole—a girl with a Russian father and Tlingit mother—standing in the doorway.
Tasha, taller than her mistress and ten years younger, smiled as she said, “It’s time, Madam.” With her oval face, high cheekbones, and straight nose, she looked as aristocratic as the Princess she served.
“Did you see the ships?” The melancholy woman turned her gaze back to the harbor.
Tasha threw up the sash and leaned out the window. “I’m glad they built the castle on top of the hill. We can see everything! So many ships! The John L. Stephens, the Ossipee, the Resaca, and the Jamestown. Those English letters are so hard to read.”
“You are such a bright child. Your command of English is excellent.”
“You are a good teacher, Madam, but I wish you would teach me French.” She grinned; the Princess didn’t know Tasha had been secretly learning that language from the Princess’ children.
Princess Maria wandered away from the window and leaned against the four-poster bed. The dark gray morning dress that lay there suited her mood. The October weather necessitated a wool coat, which was as dark as her thoughts. “You do not need to learn French.”
“Everyone speaks French when they attend your dinners and receptions. Everyone except the Americans.”
“Those Americans! The only language they speak is English. How uncivilized! French is the language of princes and palaces.”
“And more important—it is the court’s language in St. Petersburg, Madam,” Tasha added.
“I have told you many times you are not coming with me!” The words were emphatic, the Princess’s tone sharp, her eyes sad. She chewed on her bottom lip, gently pulled on one of Tasha’s long braids, and softened her voice, “This is a journey you can have no part in.”
Not wanting to argue with her mistress, Tasha gazed out the window again. “Look! Pavel is flying between the ships. I count four skiffs bringing the American soldiers ashore. Do you think they will all come to the ceremony?”
“I hope not. Dimitri and I opposed the cession of Russian America but did not have enough influence with the Tsar. This is a sad day for Mother Russia and for us.”
“Surely, Madam, Bozhe is in control; does He not lead the Tsar?”
Princess Maria handed her young servant a silver-backed hairbrush and sat at the dressing table. Their eyes met in the mirror, and the Princess smiled sadly. “I think the Tsar has other advisors who are not as wise as your Bozhe.”
Tasha artfully arranged the Princess’s hair into a complicated chignon. “He is everyone’s Bozhe, Princess.”
The Princess picked up a diamond earring. She held it to her ear and then scowled, “Has Pavel brought back the one he stole?”
“Even though you leave bread crumbs for him every morning, he will not bring back your trinket. Ravens love shiny things.”
“Trinket? That earring is worth more than many of the buildings in New Archangel. I thought that bird liked me. I named him. I fed him. What more does he want?”
Tasha laughed. Last month one of the children found their father’s gold cuff links on his desk. They played catch with it in the courtyard, and Pavel caught one of the precious links in his beak. The offender confessed to his father and was punished, but it was decided the Princess did not need to be informed that her favorite bird was a thief—a fact she had soon learned for herself.
“I will ask Bozhe to tell Pavel to return your trinket.”
“How easy life would be if we all had your faith, sweet Tasha. But now we must do our duty.”
“May I accompany you to the ceremony, Madam?”
“Why you want to see the glorious Russian double-eagle lowered and the ugly American flag raised in its place, I do not understand, but I will be glad for your company.”
***
A grim-faced Prince Dimitri and his equally somber aide met the Princess and her servant in the reception room. “We will do our duty, my dear,” he said as he kissed his wife’s cheek and offered her his arm.
She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they left the sizeable Victorian mansion known as Baranof’s Castle. The aide and Tasha followed. The little group stood on the veranda momentarily and observed the officials gathered in the small courtyard, then joined the American Generals Rousseau and Davis near the cannons in front of the flagpole.
About a hundred soldiers of the Siberian Line Battalion had assembled before the one-hundred-foot-high flagstaff. A battalion of American troops led by Brevet Major C.O. Wood, Ninth Infantry, stood on the other side of it. An honor guard of perhaps twenty brought the American flag and stood at attention in front of the battalion.
The Americans were boisterous, and General Davis signaled to Major Wood to control his men. The embarrassed Major hastened to do so. The Russians stood at attention, stiff and stoic, rigid and somber.
The transaction and legal paperwork had occurred thousands of miles away in Washington D.C. and St. Petersburg. Today’s short ceremony proclaimed the official transfer of Russian America to the United States. A land the Americans called Alaska.
Pavel sat atop the flagpole; his black eyes flitted from official to official as greetings and salutes were exchanged. He screeched and flew away when the cannons fired.
“Even Pavel does not wish to witness this,” Princess Maria whispered.
Captain Peshchurov stepped forward, and the Princess closed her eyes. Tasha stared as the Captain released the Russian flag, and its vibrant colors fluttered in the breeze. A moment later, she gasped and clutched the Princess’s arm.
The double-eagle had caught on a yardarm halfway down the flagpole. Several titters from the American soldiers were silenced by a savage look from their officer. Captain Peshchurov released the pulley, and the flag continued its downward journey but was snagged by a Russian bayonet. The embarrassed soldier ripped it free. He quickly folded the torn flag and shame-faced presented it to the Prince.
Princess Maria Maksutov faded and would have stumbled if Tasha had not held her firmly. Ashen-faced, tears hanging on her lashes, she stared at Tasha and whispered, “It is an evil omen. Russia will be torn as I am.”
Prince Dimitri stepped closer to his wife but stopped when he heard Tasha say, “It’s almost over, Madam, and we can go inside.”
“It will never be over. I am forever exiled.” She hung her head and refused to look.
The United States Commissioner, General Rousseau, oversaw the raising of his country’s flag. The American ships fired their cannons when they saw the stars and stripes reach the hundred-foot height of the flagstaff. Its military cheered. The Russians were again silent, and the soldiers of both countries were dismissed.
The Americans raised down the hill whooping and hollering, anxious to see what kind of entertainment Sitka could offer. The Russian soldiers dragged themselves back to their barracks.
Prince Dimitri and the two American Generals retired to the reception room and shared a glass of champagne. Princess Maria and Tasha went directly upstairs.
“Help me, Tasha, these corset stays are too tight.”
“Shall I choose a dress for the reception, Madam?”
“I am in dispose, a raging headache.”
“You are the hostess, Madam.”
“This house now belongs to the Americans. I have no place here.”
“But, Madam…”
“Never again will New Archangel be called the Paris of the Pacific. I shall no longer hold court or preside over official dinners, receptions, or theatricals.” Princess Maria, released from her corset, breathed deeply and threw it across the room. “What will happen to my home? This place? My beloved New Archangel?”
“Bozhe knows, Madam. You will be all right if you lean on Him.”
“I brought culture and gaiety to my miniature Russian court. Every ship that anchored here vied for an invitation. My husband and I represented Russian Imperial Crown! We stood in place of the Tsar!”
“Yes, Princess, all the ships’ captains, dignitaries, and other important persons looked forward to your welcome,” Tasha spoke soothingly and hastened to pick up the offending undergarment.
“In Russia, I shall be one of many.” The Princess sighed, opened the wardrobe door, and pulled out an elegant black dress.
“Black, Madam? Black is for mourning.”
“Yes, it is,” Princess Maria gave Tasha a wan smile. “Ask your Bozhe to help me as I do my duty one last time.”
Tasha picked up the corset and laced the Princess into it.
***
As the wet October days turned into a cold November, fifteen-year-old Natasha Petronova Bravebird had great difficulty encouraging her mistress. She talked to the Aunties in the clan house and visited the priest. She spoke to her parents and grandfather. No one had any advice for cheering their beloved Princess. They would miss her when she returned to Russia.
“What will life be like in St Petersburg, Princess?” Tasha asked as she folded yet another pillowcase and placed it in the large steamer trunk in the center of the room.
“Colder in winter, not much warmer in summer, but it’s not the weather that frightened me.”
I thought you were sad, not frightened.”
The Princess’s countenance matched New Archangel’s dismal weather. “Sitka, what kind of a name is Sitka?” She grumbled as she oversaw packing the family’s belongings. “Stupid.’
“This island you call Baranoff, we call Shee. Sitka means on the outside of Shee because it faces the ocean.”
“I’m sorry, Tasha. I shouldn’t sound so harsh.”
“You are grieving, Princess.”
“This is my home. My babies were born here, and now we are banished to a land they have never seen.”
“Surely you have good memories of Russia.”
Princess Maria sat back on her heels. “Sit beside me, Tasha.” She moved a pile of linen and patted the floor. “As soon as I married the Prince, we embarked on our mission to Russian America. I have never been to the court in St. Petersburg. Dimitri says it is full of minor princes and aristocrats vying for favor and position. Lies, rumors, intrigues, and scandals. I know I will hate all the backbiting and manipulation.”
“But your family?”
“Everyone I love is here.” The Princess swiped at her eyes with a linen handkerchief. “I will do what must be done once ensconced in the Tsar’s court; charm and flatter unworthy royals and aristocrats in order to further Dimitri’s career. I feel weak thinking about it.”
“Can you not help your husband’s career with kindness, truth, and decorum?”
The Princess rubbed her forehead and gave Tasha a look of disdain. The young Creole ignored it and patted the Princess’ hand. “Bozhe says the joy of His Great Son is our strength.”
“I will miss you, dear Tasha.” Princess Maria hugged the young Creole.
“You do not need to miss me. I will come with you.”
“Do not make such childish statements.” The Princess shook Tasha’s shoulders. “I will not take you to Russia! You would long for Shee.” Princess Maria almost smiled, “Did I pronounce it correctly?”
“Bozhe will go with me, and I will have his joy.”
“I will not change my mind! Now help me pack.” The Princess turned away and held a handkerchief to her eyes
“Oui, Madam.” Tasha took no notice of the other woman’s harsh tone and grinned as she answered in French.
***
It had taken slightly over two months to pack the family’s belongings and arrange for passage to Russia. Prince Dimitri, now appointed Russian Consul, was to stay and facilitate the emigration of Alaska’s Russians. Almost all were returning to their homeland.
“January is not the best time to sail these northern seas, but the ship is stout and the captain competent. Have no fears, my dear.” Dimitri kissed each of his five children and sent them scuttling up the gangplank along with their governess. He held his wife in a long embrace.
As Princess Maria hid her face in her husband’s shoulder, the Prince looked over her head, nodded, and winked at Tasha. She raced after the children and hid behind a lifeboat.
Dimitri removed his scarf and tied it gently around his wife’s neck. “The time will pass quickly, and we will soon be together.”
“I’d rather stay, even if it’s only for a few more months.”
“Too many corrupt scallywags and opportunists are coming into Sitka with every ship. It’s becoming quite lawless and dangerous. I want your memory of our lives in this beautiful place to be happy ones.”
The day was cold; and unusually bright and sunny for this time of year. The winter water was almost as blue as the canopy above. Wind rising. Ropes creaking. Sails filling. The Princess stood at the rail with her children. She drew a shaky breath as the distance between the ship and New Archangel grew greater. She told the governess to take the children below.
The forlorn figure at the ship’s rail tore at Tasha’s heart. The shaking shoulders gave evidence to the woman’s silent sobs. Tasha crept across the deck and stood beside the Princess, who felt her presence after a moment.
“Natasha Petronova Bravebird—what are you doing here? You belong in New Archangel. Oh, why are you here?”
“I am here for you, Princess. Where you go, I will go. Your family will be my family.”
“I should be angry, but I—I—” The Princess enveloped the young Creole in a fierce hug.
“I will bring Bozhe’s joy and peace with me.” They turned for one last look at the place that meant so much to them.
Pavel, who watched from a high spar on the mast, swooped down and dropped a shiny earring at the Princess’s feet. He flew back to Shee with a loud squawk.

This is me with my cousin decades ago in Sitka, Alaska. This is how we went to the beach, lol.

Have you been to Sitka? What are some of your favorite places? One of mine is ST MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL RUSSIAN ORTHODOX CHURCH.

INUIT CHILD IN ITS FIRST PARKA
At the age of two or three, children would receive their first PARKA.
Parka is a hooded fur coat worn in arctic regions. The outer layer is made of sealskin, which is waterproof. Clothes can also be made from the pelts of seals, caribous, foxes, or polar bears, and often coated with fish oil for waterproofing. Arctic Inuit “parka” is designed to keep the child warm and safe from frostbite. These durable and easily available materials have allowed Inuit to survive in a severe climate.
Inuit babies spend their first year of life until about two years of age, carried in their mother's fur coat - a carrier called an “amauti”, the built-in baby pouch just below the hood. The amauti is designed to carry a child against an adult's body to utilize body heat and protect the child from frostbite, wind and cold.
Sewing reindeer fur clothing takes up a huge amount of Inuit’s women's time as children are constantly growing...
May be an image of 1 person, child and arctic
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My family saga is set in Sitka, Alaska. It is just as much a character as the people that live there. This present day map shows the bridge to Japonski Island and Crescent Harbor Marina which weren't there when Firy was growing up. There was no cruise dockor Lightering Dock. City hall now occupies the old post office building. Firy lived on B Street (Biorka) around the corner from the grocery store. Sitka National Historical Park was always called Totem park by the locals. Sadly the old baseball field between Baranof and Monestery is no more.

I checked my KU report yesterday morning and someone had read 6 pages. I checked it that afternoon and it's 377
It makes me happy to know that while I spent the day cleaning and getting reading for company,someone read ALASKA'S FIRY in one day!!

Did they love it?

Did they laugh at the quirky old men of the Sitka Cafe?

Did they cry when....no spoilers!

Did my descriptions make them feel like they were on an island off the coast of Alaska?

Did they feel for Firy as she tried to make sense of her life?

I'm so honored to share my mother's story.

My Mama's Mama Book 1: Alaska's Firy: Tough Times Tougher People
https://www.amazon.com/My-Mamas-Mama-Book-Alaskas/dp/1736670603/

Alaska's Firy By Cheryle Coapstick Glaphira (Firy) Oskolkoff buried the confusion of her biracial heritage — Russian, Yupik, possibly white. Firy didn’t fit in a segregated Sitka, Alaska.Child...

I took some of my books to my grandson's school craft fair. So much fun.

If you've enjoyed my books, please leave a review on Amazon and/or GoodReads. It's one of the best ways for authors to find new readers. Please review books!

I bought a used door for my garage. My grandson did a Google image search. It says the the Lord who looks down with compassion.
I'll take it.

This is where I write, sometimes my fingers are on the keys and I stare at the blank screen while the characters in my head are clamoring to be set free.