Howdy!  Well, the summer seems to be creeping in upon us — at least it seems to me that it’s creeping…we’re still getting cold weather here in the north east.  I hope that your summer is starting out well, and hope you are augmenting your summer reading list with many, many beach books.  Soon, the second book in the Lost Clan Series, THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF, will be released — the release date is July 22, 2014.  Interestingly the book takes place during the summer months in the year of 1835…in the vast stretches of the Western prairie.

SpiritOfTheWolf-The72lgAnd so in celebration of the release of the book, I thought I’d give away another free book — but this one will be a print book (mass media).  So do come on in and leave a message.

I thought I’d start with an excerpt from the very first chapter of the book — the hero of the story is engaged in a game of chance, a game with very high stakes.  So here it is: an excerpt from THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF.


Copyright © 2014 Karen Kay
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
The Minnetaree Village

A Permanent Indian Village of mud huts on the Knife River

Upper Missouri Territory—in what is today the State of North Dakota

Summer 1835

From the corner of his eye Grey Coyote watched the white man sneak a stick into line beside those that were already present, giving the white man eleven sticks instead of the ten he had won fairly.

So, the white man has no honor.

Grey Coyote raised a single eyebrow and cast a glance across the few feet that separated him from the white man, the man the Minnetaree Indians called the scout, LaCroix. LaCroix was French, as were many of the white men in this country. His face was pale and bearded, his hair long, dark and scraggly. His breath stank of the white man’s whisky, and his body smelled of dirt and grime.

None of this bothered Grey Coyote. In truth, he was smiling at the man, although the expression could hardly be called one of good humor. After a moment, Grey Coyote said, “Darkness has fallen again. We have been playing for longer than a full day now.”

LaCroix grunted.

“As you know, we are both guests here, in my friend’s lodge, in the Minnetaree village,” continued Grey Coyote. “And I would hardly be the cause of a fight if I could avoid it, for it would bring shame to our host, Big Eagle.”

Grunting again, LaCroix looked away. His gaze shifted from one object in the room to another, not centering on anything in particular, not even on the lovely white woman who reposed on one of their host’s beds in a corner of the hut.

As discreetly as possible, Grey Coyote let his gaze rest on that golden-haired beauty. He had never before seen a white woman, and to say that Grey Coyote was surprised at her appearance would have been an understatement.

He would have assumed the white man’s woman would be as unkempt and perhaps as hairy as her male counterpart. But this simply was not so. The woman was uncommonly pretty. Slim, small and curvy, with tawny hair that reached well to her waist, the woman’s coloring reminded him of a pale sunset—luminous, translucent, mysterious.

Her eyes were as tawny as her hair, like those of a mountain lion’s. Even at this distance, and despite the ever-growing darkness in the one-room hut, Grey Coyote could discern their color. It was a rare shade to be found here on the plains, where the eye colors of dark brown and black dominated.

Warming to his subject, he noted thoughtfully that the white woman’s skin was also quite fair, unblemished. Her cheeks were glowing, as pale and pink as the prairie rose. To his eye, she was a beautiful sight.

But she paid no heed to the people sharing this hut, not sparing so much as a glance at another being, except perhaps the Indian maid who appeared to serve her. In truth, the white woman seemed lost in her own thoughts.

Maybe this was best. From the looks of her, she might prove to be more than a mere distraction to him if he took a liking to her, something Grey Coyote could ill afford.

Slowly, Grey Coyote returned his attention to the matter at hand. The game of Cos-soo had been started a day ago, Grey Coyote being more than ready to gamble with this particular white man.

After all, LaCroix fit the description of the white man whom he sought. Perhaps this was the chance Grey Coyote awaited.

But to find the man cheating?

Clearing his throat, Grey Coyote spoke again. “I admit it is dark, growing ever darker as we sit here. I concede, too, that a good many hours have passed since we decided to begin this game, but do not think that because of this my eyes are so tired that they do not see.”

“What? What is it that monsieur insinuates?” asked LaCroix, his look incredulous.

Grey Coyote nodded toward LaCroix’s sticks with his forehead. “I am keeping track of the number of your sticks.” Grey Coyote raised one of his eyebrows. “There should be ten sticks that you hold, for as you see, you received ten points for your roll. Remember, you had lost all of your other sticks in the previous roll.”

“That is not true. I kept one stick that was left over from before. I should have eleven sticks, not ten.”

Grey Coyote’s stare was bold. “You lost the last bet.”

LaCroix’s eyes grew round, though he could still not match Grey Coyote’s direct gaze. “Is it true? I thought that… Oui, oui,” he blurted out, his words accompanied by a chuckle. “Ye are right. What was I thinking? I do not know how this other stick came to be here, for I had taken all my sticks away. Perhaps two sticks stuck together. Oui, I am sure that is it.”

“Hau, hau,” said Grey Coyote, using the Assiniboine word for “yes”. “Let us hope that no other sticks see fit to stick together.” Grey Coyote once more nodded toward LaCroix, and reaching across the playing space handed LaCroix fifty sticks. “These are for my last roll.”

“Oui, oui.” LaCroix accepted the twigs and commenced to set them out along the ground beside the two men.

Grey Coyote carefully watched the man at his work, not fooled by LaCroix’s attempt at sleight of hand. “Scout LaCroix, I gave you fifty sticks, the amount of my throw. But you have only set out twenty.”

“But, monsieur, I have done this because it is the number of sticks that is appropriate for your roll. Do ye see? Ye rolled five burnt sides, which is four points each, or twenty.”

Grey Coyote narrowed his brow. “You should look closely at the bowl. Do you not see that the big claw stands on end, red side up? As you and I know, that is worth thirty.”

“Is it standing? Surely you jest, monsieur, for I do not see the big claw stand on end.” LaCroix leaned over, as though to more carefully peer into the polished wooden bowl that was used to throw the dice. The man came so close to his target that he bumped into it, though it was surely no accident. The big claw—the one dice that garnered the highest points—fell to a different position. “Monsieur, you make a mistake. You see, the claw, it does not appear to be on end. However, if ye insist, I will take yer word that it landed that way, and will set out the extra thirty sticks.” His eyes didn’t quite meet Grey Coyote’s.

“Do not bother,” Grey Coyote spoke after a long pause. Though LaCroix’s actions more than alarmed him, Grey Coyote trained his features into a bland expression. He would let the incident pass. After all, it was not in his mind that he had to win everything that this man owned. All he needed was the possession, the one thing that would help Grey Coyote solve the riddle, though at present what that particular possession was escaped him. He said evenly, “We must both pay more attention in the future.”

“Oui, oui, monsieur. And now, if ye insist, ye may have another turn, since ye believed that the big claw stood on end.”

Grey Coyote shrugged. “It is not necessary. I will give you the next roll.”

“Oui, oui,” uttered LaCroix, and after picking up the bowl with four fingers placed inside its immaculately polished rim, he threw the dice up by striking the bowl on the ground.


Maria Marietta Welsford tapped her foot impatiently. Yes, it was storming outside the hut. Yes, their party had needed to stop for the night. This she understood, but this game had been going on for over twenty-four hours, and still her guide wasn’t ready to leave. Time was of the essence for her, and it was all she could do to sit still.

How long would it take her to return to England? Would she arrive there in time to claim the family estate, Rosemead, an endowment she had thought lost to her forever?

It had taken two months for her to receive the solicitor’s letter. Of course she had responded to it at once, but would her reply reach England in time?

And what about her uncle? Was it true that he had disappeared?

It would appear so. According to the solicitor’s note, upon her uncle’s disappearance, legal queries had arisen, which had led to certain discoveries. Her uncle, the current Earl of Welsford, was not and had never been the rightful inheritor of Rosemead, though all those years ago the man had pretended to be.

Worse, during his reign, Marietta’s uncle had mismanaged the estate. He had accrued gambling debts, among other things. Creditors needed paying. It now appeared that the funds for her uncle’s endeavors could no longer be lawfully taken from the inheritance.

To Marietta, it all seemed too fantastic to be true. After all these years, to learn that she was Rosemead’s true inheritor?

It was a daunting realization.

Yet if she tarried now, she feared the solicitors might be forced to conclude she was dead.



Hope you enjoyed the excerpt.  I’ll be posting more soon, as well as the Story behind the story of THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF.  So keep checking back here often.  And don’t forget to leave a comment.  It enters you into the drawing for the free book.

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KAREN KAY aka GEN BAILEY is the multi-published author of American Indian Historical Romances. She has written for such prestigious publishers as AVON/HarperCollins, Berkley/Penguin/Putnam and Samhain Publishing. KAREN KAY’S great grandmother was Choctaw Indian and Kay is honored to be able to write about the American Indian Culture.
Please refer to for all contest rules.

25 thoughts on “THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF, an excerpt”

  1. I enjoyed Grey Coyote’s introduction to the young English woman, Marietta. She’s totally oblivious to what is going on around her, both during the Cos-Soo game and later when she is tricked by LaCroix. I am so glad you intertwined their fates to try to solve the riddle of the Lost Clan. It sounds like a arduous, mysterious and sensual journey to a HEA.

    I’d love to read THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF.

    johns lake at usa dot com

  2. I have been a fan of your writing for awhile now. This books sounds equally as good as some of the ones i have read. Would love to win it.

  3. Hi Laurie!

    Thanks so much for your comment. I must admit that THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF is one of my favorite books — and thanks for much for your observations. : )

  4. THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF is a rerelease correct? I am pretty sure I have this one in print. I love when books come out again to give readers another chance to read them!

  5. Kay, this looks wonderful! I love the excerpt. (OF COURSE!) I have not read this one yet–so will be snapping it up as soon as I can get over to Amazon and do it. Love the cover, too.

  6. Karen, you have wrote so many books over the years and I still enjoy reading them. Thank You, for the contest for a book copy of The Spirit of the Wolf. Your insite, into the Indian culture of our nation shows how much research you have done. This reader appreciates your efforts.

  7. The weather this year has been odd to be sure. We had no real Spring and jumped right into summer. Then it froze. Then it turned hot again. Then dry. We are under sever thunderstorm warnings at the moment. The first rain we have had in about 2 weeks. So far it is going all around us. I hope we get some before morning. Our gardens are getting desperate. I am heading to Northern NY in a few weeks and hope the weather isn’t too hot.

    Thank you for the excerpt. We take ease of communication for granted. It is hard to imagine it taking a missive months to get where it is going and not being sure how fast your answer would be delivered. Most don’t even wait for mail anymore. They pick up their cell phones or go to their computer and can instantly connect with almost anyone.

    This should be a good story. A clash of cultures and expectations makes for a good story line. Nice cover. I hope you are getting settled and the weather starts to cooperate for you. The Northeast can be lovely.

  8. This isn’t about this particular blog, but all of them. I was subscribed and then suddenly a few weeks ago I stopped getting them. I’ve tried to resubscribe, but it won’t let me because it says I’m already one. How can I fix that?
    Martha Rogers

  9. Hi Colleen!

    Yes, it is a reprint — but it’s been re-edited so it’s the same story only hopefully a little more edited for easy reading. : )

  10. Hi Patricia!

    So nice to see you here today. Isn’t the weather just…unusual… It’s been cold here today in the North East and it’s getting so close to summer.

    Thanks so much for your welcome comments — as you know I love the culture clash and I particularly liked this story of a man who wins the heroine. Thanks for your comment.

  11. Hi Martha!

    I’m so sorry that you’re having problems and I wish I knew the answer. Let me post your question to the person who services this blog — I’m sure she’ll be able to help you. : )

  12. I enjoyed the excerpt from “The Spirit of the Wolf” and look forward to reading it in its entirety.

Comments are closed.