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 https://petticoatsandpistols.com/sweepstakesrules for all contest rules.
My husband did the drawing for me and we have three, not two winners. He thought he’d picked only one, but it was three. So, I’ll give away three e-books instead of two.
The winners are:
Trudy C.
Deb Galloway
Mary-Chris Hines
Congratulations to you all. And also, many thanks to everyone who came to the blog yesterday and left a reply. I really love them all. Trudy, Deb and Mary-Chris please contact me at karenkay.author@startmail.com to get your e-book of IRON WOLF’S BRIDE.
And, before I close here, let me wish one and all a very prosperous and happy new year.
Hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday and are happy to be beginning a New Year. Here’s a hope and a wish that this year will be so very much better than last year.
IRON WOLF’S BRIDE, second in The Wild West Series, is a new release for me. Set within Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Shows, Iron Wolf’s Bride encompasses two continents, both America and England.
I’ll be giving away a free e-book of IRON WOLF’S BRIDE to a couple of bloggers (2 bloggers). So do consider leaving a comment, since this is how one enters into the drawing. We have guidelines, by the way, for our giveaways — you can see them off to the top right here.
So here we go: I’m going to post the back cover blurb of the book and then an excerpt. Hope you’ll enjoy both.
IRON WOLF’S BRIDE
by
Karen Kay
I will return to you, my love…
Jane Glenforest’s father believed she was too young to marry, so he’d stolen her and her newborn son away from the handsome Assiniboine Indian she’d wed and taken her to Surrey, England. In spite of divorce papers and rumors he’s wed another, Jane’s never forgotten the man who’d stolen her heart and given her son legitimacy. When Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show comes to England—bringing her ex-husband with it—Jane’s curious to see her lost love, in spite of her new fiancé.
Although Iron Wolf’s purpose in working for Bill Cody’s Wild West show is to fulfill his father’s vision to find and stop a deceiver, he fell in love with and married Jane Glenforest. But, no sooner had Jane given birth than her father stole her away. Now, a few years later, Iron Wolf is arriving in England with the hope of rekindling the love he once shared with Jane. However, instead of love, he finds his wife loathes him, believing he has married another. And, when he discovers she is engaged to another man, he declares war on both her and the fiancé.
But when their son is kidnapped, Jane and Iron Wolf must work together to rescue him. And, as danger escalates, they discover trusting each other might be the only way to save their son. Will Jane and Iron Wolf learn to forgive one another, to reignite the embers of a passion that never died, or will the lies of a deceiver destroy their love forever?
Warning: Rediscovered love might cause sleepless nights spent in the arms of one’s true love.
Let me tell you a little about the book before I attach an excerpt.
As I said above IRON WOLF’S BRIDE is the second book in The Wild West Series, my newest series.
I’ve planned three books in this series and two of them are released, Book #1, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME and Book #2, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE.
The third book, BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER, is a work in progress at present.
But let me tell you a little about this series. It concerns three men, who are part of the secret Society of the Wolf, The Clan of the Scout. Two of the men are from the Assiniboine Indian Tribe and one is from the Lakota Tribe. They are on a deadly serious mission.
The chief of the Assiniboine tribe has had a terrifying vision: that someone called the deceiver, or trickster, spells doom for the children of his tribe, and eventually for all Indians. The old chief is desperate and enlists the aid of two young men from his own tribe and one young man from the Lakota tribe to join Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. He has been shown in a vision from the Creator that help for his people can be found if these three young men can become a part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. There, within the framework of the show, the old chief has been shown that he may appeal to the President of the United States — or his representative — for assistance; also, to find and stop the deceiver who means to harm the Indian Tribes.
Because traditionally scouts were the most trusted individuals within the tribe, the old chief appeals to two young men who are a part of that society. One of them is his own son; another is a young man who is the most accurate shooter with the bow and arrow as well as a gun. The third young man is to be found from the Lakota tribe.
These three young men become part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, and, in addition, they become one of the most popular events in the show, especially with the young ladies. But these three young men care very little about any fame or fortune that might be attached to being so popular. Their concern is to find and disable the trickster and all his associates, so as to free the next several generations of Native American children from harm.
Within this series of three stories, these young men — although not looking for love — discover true love along the path to discovering this real evil which is threatening their tribes.
Enjoy this excerpt of the book:
CHAPTER TWO
April, 1891
Earl’s Court Exhibition Grounds
London, England
Jane Glenforest felt as though her world was shattering. How dare he. How dare he come here.
Of course, she needn’t have bought the tickets to see the Wild West Show. But, she’d been unable to resist the impulse to come here today to see if he were still with the show. And, surely, there he was, surrounded by the usual crowd of women.
It still hurt. Seeing him again only made the pain of what had happened between them worse.
Eventually, she’d have to go down there where he was, for her sister still worked with the show; indeed, her sister, Luci, was even now dressed as a boy. Did this fact mean that she and Luci were still in danger? Surely that was behind them now. It had been two and a half, almost three years since the trouble.
Jane watched from a top section of the bleaching boards as her former husband and lover, as well as his two friends, wooed the feminine, English hearts. He and his friends, having finished their athletic performances in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, were now engaging the crowd in a different skill: American Indian-style singing and dancing.
The three friends had taken up a position that was in front of and close up to the tiered bleaching boards. Already, several of the young English women were leaving their seats, were filtering into the arena and joining the Indian women there. Together, these two different groups of ladies formed a circle around the three performers.
And, there he was: Iron Wolf. He stood in the middle between his two friends, Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder. Wind Eagle was drumming on what appeared to be a buffalo-hide drum, which he held in his hand. Blue Thunder shook two rattles. Both Blue Thunder and Wind Eagle were singing, while Iron Wolf blew into his Indian-styled flute. Feathers and strung beads hung from the instrument, which more resembled an English recorder than a flute.
She remembered that flute. Iron Wolf had often played it for her, and once, over two and a half years ago, he had used it to make her smile when she’d felt downtrodden.
She watched Iron Wolf as he danced. He was the only one of the three men who was dancing. As the others were singing, Iron Wolf took a moment to swing around in a circle, then bent over at the waist, keeping time to the rhythm and looking as though he were a nineteenth-century Kokopelli, who was, of course, the ancient American Indian Casanova.
His dance was stimulating to her, although she was an unwilling recipient to the blatant sensuality of his movements. Whether Iron Wolf intended it or not, the dance he was doing was not only exotic, it was erotic, and several of the women surrounding the three musicians were also bobbing up and down to the rhythm, looking as though they were part of the unusual performance.
Once again Jane wondered why he had come to England. He didn’t have to come. He could have stayed behind.
Didn’t he know she was here? It wasn’t possible that he would not know, if only because their divorce papers listed her current residence as being in Surrey, England. Was he so insensitive that he didn’t realize how much it would hurt her to see him again, to observe him flirting with other women, to witness him with his new wife?
Perhaps a better question would be to ask herself why she had come here. Yes, good manners dictated that she visit with her sister, but she also needed to talk to Luci more seriously, if only to find out why her sister had never written. Why had she never answered Jane’s many letters?
But, she hadn’t any real necessity to come to the show for that reason. Not really. She could have sent a note to Luci and her husband, Wind Eagle, inviting them to her uncle’s estate.
All at once, Iron Wolf unexpectedly jumped into the air, only to land in an athletic split upon the ground, and Jane recalled that this same man had once appeared to fly through the air in an effort to rescue her and their baby. To her disappointment, his attempt had failed.
But, this was all in the past. Once, not too long ago, he had loved her. Once, she had loved him to distraction. But their love was over now. It was dead.
And, she had recovered from its extinction. She’d had to, for she was raising her small son without Iron Wolf’s aid. Indeed, her once-unconditional love for Iron Wolf had died about a year ago when he had divorced her. It was that simple.
She had grieved for months, but had forced herself to move on with her life and had put her infatuation with Iron Wolf behind her. Her future now lay with another.
Little Jeremy Iron Wolf, Jane’s son, laughed, his antics serving to bring Jane back to the present. She glanced to her right where her friend and nanny, Marci Fox, sat. Marci was holding Jeremy in her arms, while Jeremy wiggled his small fingers, entangling them in Marci’s long, nearly-black hair.
Jane smiled. “Here, I’ll take him,” she said, as she moved to gather her son into her arms. “I’m thinking we should be leaving soon.”
Marci nodded and grinned. “Look at your son dance up and down to the drum. Do you think he knows that he belongs in the Western culture on display down there?”
“No,” replied Jane, “although I admit I used to think this was so. But not now. Let’s go.”
“Yes. Are you going to try to see your sister?”
“Not today. Tomorrow perhaps.”
“But tomorrow you are to be married. Will there be time?”
Jane bit her lip. “Yes, well… Perhaps you are right. Will you come with me while I try to find my sister?”
“Of course.”
“Then, I suppose we should go down there,” Jane replied, then sighed. “Mayhap, we might find someone who will lead us to her. Maybe, too, I might invite her to dinner tonight…. Possibly…”
That’s all Jane would say on the subject for now. But she did wonder why, in all this time, Luci had not written. Like Iron Wolf, had Luci changed so much?
Well, there was nothing to do about it now. Luci was here in London, and she was, after all, Jane’s sister.
Positioning young Jeremy on her hip, Jane rose up from her top seat beneath the white canvas awning covering the bleaching boards of the Wild West Show. Stepping toward the stairs on the far side of the sitting arrangement, she carefully made her way down toward the arena. That the bottom edge of her light-blue walking dress dragged on the steps, dirtying it, was, for the moment, forgotten. What was more important was what her stomach was doing. Her entire body was trembling. Her stomach in particular felt as though butterflies had taken residence within it.
Would he see her? Would he even recognize her? He might not, since two years ago, Jane had been forced to wear a disguise. At that time, Jane had managed her hair into a tight chignon, and she had worn a wig of long, dark hair whenever she was away from her sleeping quarters. Yes, he had seen her as a blonde, but rarely, and mostly in the privacy of their bedroom. She’d been pregnant then and he’d only been privy to a brief glimpse of her as a slim, young girl before her father had come and whisked her away. Would he even know her now?
He might. Unlike many men, Iron Wolf seemed unusually perceptive, attentive to the minutest detail in his environment. He saw elements around him that another might miss.
Her light-blue hat, however, might cause him to pass her by, for it was wide brimmed, with feathers on top to give her small, five-foot-four figure more height. It hid her face, also.
She inhaled deeply…for courage.
Having descended to ground level, she stepped forward onto the field of the arena. The three young American Indian singers had not yet finished their performance, and Jane hoped she might be able to avoid detection as she glanced into the distance, her gaze searching for Luci. However, it was not to be.
Her first indication that she had been recognized was when Marci touched her shoulder and said, “He comes, I fear.”
There was no need to say who “he” was. Apparently, he had detached himself from the rest of the performance, and Jane watched as Iron Wolf approached her.
Dear Lord, why did he have to look so handsome? Tall, with a slim, muscular build and long legs, he sauntered toward her, his gait smooth and graceful, as though the mere act of walking were an art form. His hair had come a little loose from where he usually clipped the two braids behind his head, and the Assiniboine-style “bangs” blew in the wind. He wore dark-blue, cotton pants that fell to the ground and were long enough to almost cover his moccasins. His breechcloth was white with blue, red and green beaded decoration, and his shirt was light blue. A beaded, white vest was secured in front with what looked to be leather ties, and a white bandana was tied neatly around his neck.
Jane took another breath as her stomach alerted her to the danger coming toward her, and she realized with mounting dread that she was not immune to him. She should be, but she wasn’t.
And she, who was to be married to another man tomorrow….
She pasted a smile on her face as she prepared herself to confront the man she had once loved with all her heart.
***
He had watched for her all through their performances this day; he had even counted on her being here, for he’d suspected that her father might have taken her to England. Indeed, his antics today were for her benefit, alone.
He had despaired, though, when he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her in the crowd. However, as he and his two friends had begun their singing, he had espied her, there in the top row of the seating arrangement. All through their first singing performance, he had felt as though he had gobbled her up with his gaze. Had she felt the intensity of his emotions? Did she know that he played his flute for her? That he wooed her with it? That his dance was for her, and only for her?
His heart beat fiercely in his breast as he approached her now. Two, almost three years ago, he had known her as a pregnant woman and she had been beautiful then, both in spirit and in body. But to see her now, slim, holding their son on her hip…it was such a stunning sight, he was certain he would never forget it.
In many ways, it was hard to believe that she was his wife, for her beauty was unusual to his eye. Small-boned, feminine and clothed as she was in the English style of dress, she looked calm, cool…and untouchable. The light blue of her dress might complement her coloring of light skin and pink cheeks, but its color added to the illusion that there was no history between them. She looked foreign, cool, out of reach.
All those years ago, her hair had been dark, almost black whenever she was in public. He had come to learn that it was a wig she wore, that the true color of her hair was an unusual shade of white-yellow. On her, the hair color was beautiful, although he had to admit that to him, it was still foreign to his eye.
He felt a stirring in his loins as he measured his steps toward her, and he marveled at the power of his attraction to her. She was his wife, and, although their love had been left to simmer over the ashes of a two-and-a-half-year-old fire, he felt his hunger for her stirring again within him.
He stopped directly in front of her, and, as was Indian tradition, he simply looked at her. It was a sign of respect he bestowed upon her, and he didn’t speak, nor did he extend a hand toward her. He simply gazed at her, admiring her lovely face.
She looked up at him briefly, then glanced quickly away.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low and sweet, though within those tones, there was an air of hostility toward him. She didn’t look back at him, leaving him to do little more than admire her attractive profile.
Although her words weren’t exactly welcoming, he yet felt heartened. He was here and so was she. They were, at last, together again. He said, “I am happy to see you, my wife and my son.”
She did nothing in response at first and he watched as she swallowed hard before she gained her composure and uttered, “How dare you call me that.”
To say he was astonished by her tone of voice, as well as by her words, would have been an understatement, and it took him a moment to respond. But at last, he asked, “Call you what? I do not understand. What did I say that you object to?”
“’Wife.’ That’s what I take offense to and you should know it.”
Clearly puzzled now, he asked, “Are you not my wife?”
“You know I am not.”
He had not expected her anger; sadness, perhaps, that he had not been able to find her sooner. But antagonism bordering on what appeared to be disgust? And, what did she mean that she wasn’t his wife?
He watched in surprise as a tear slipped down her cheek. Why was she crying? It seemed incomprehensible to him that she was so upset, especially because his emotions were intense and happy; he was, after all, reunited with her. Yet, he could not deny that those were tears. Reaching out a finger toward her, he traced the path of the tear’s salty wetness.
But she batted his hand away, saying, “Do not touch me!”
He nodded and took one step backward, and, by way of apology, he murmured, “I mean no assault.”
“Don’t do this!”
He said nothing. He didn’t, however, avert his gaze from her, for she was truly angry with him. Why?
“I am looking for my sister,” she stated after a pause; still she did not look at him. “Do you know where I might be able to find her?”
“I do,” he answered calmly. “If you follow me, I will take you to her.”
“I will not follow you anywhere, sir. Simply tell me where she is, and I shall go there.”
“She is in the corral,” he told her without pause. “But come, the time is long since we have seen or talked to one another. Could we not take a moment to speak kind words to each other? You are angry with me and I do not know why. Perhaps if we share our thoughts with one another, we can renew our acquaintance. But, if it is your wish to see your sister now, I would be honored to take you to her.”
“Don’t do this to me, Iron Wolf. I will not go with you. Is it your wish to parade that other woman in front of me? Is that why you wish to accompany me? No, I will not allow it.”
Iron Wolf realized at last that he was completely baffled. He questioned, “Another woman?”
“Do you really expect me to say it?”
He could only stare at her, confused.
“Your other wife! That is who I am speaking of. Do you think I don’t know of her existence? Did you believe that you could throw me away and marry another without my knowledge?”
“Throw you away?”
“Please, stop this. I…I’ve seen the pictures of you with her. Did you expect that I would not? I also have our divorce papers that you signed. So, do not pretend innocence with me. I…I can say no more.”
Iron Wolf felt as though he were bedazzled. True, he was confounded by her accusations, but he was also in awe of her. Angry or not, he continued to be happy to see her. But, he did question how a woman could be so angry, yet exude such beauty at the same time.
Accused of acts he hadn’t done, he knew no other course of action but to tell her the truth, and so he said, “I tell you no lie. I have no other wife. But I do wonder, who has told these lies to you?”
She didn’t answer his question. Instead, after a short moment, she called over her shoulder, “Come, Marci.”
He watched as his wife turned and brought forward the young woman who had been standing behind her all this while. Then, his fine-looking, yet irate wife said to the one whom she called Marci, “We will find my sister without any help.”
But, before they left, and in defense, he uttered, “I tell you this true. I have no other wife, but you.”
“It is you who lie, for I have a news clipping of this wife you claim you don’t have and of you…pictures…newspaper articles…as well as our divorce papers. And those, Mr. Wolf, prove that it is not I who is telling lies, but you.” Then she turned away, and, within moments, she was walking away from him.
She loathed him, he realized perhaps too late. And, he supposed that from her point of view, she might believe she had reason to show him dislike.
He watched her until she turned a corner and was no longer in his line of vision. He frowned. Two, almost three years ago, Jane and her sister had faced a trouble that had almost taken their lives. He had thought the incident had resolved itself, and that his and Jane’s forced separation had been the act of a jealous father.
Now he wondered about the truth of that. His wife’s reaction to simply seeing him again caused him to further speculate. What had happened here, and, perhaps more importantly, why had something bad happened here? Did it have anything to do with what had occurred to Jane and her sister two years ago? He didn’t know, but he promised himself that he would discover these answers, and soon….
Since it’s New Year’s Eve, I thought I’d take a break from posting about Native America and take trip to Scotland instead via a song.
It is to Scottish songwriter, Robert Burns, that the world owes its debt for the beautiful poem of Auld Lang Syne. Interestingly, it’s become an anthem that is recognized and sung all around the world.
.As the website at http://www.scotland.org says: “Auld Lang Syne is one of Scotland’s gifts to the world, recalling the love and kindness of days gone by, but in the communion of taking our neighbours’ hands, it also gives us a sense of belonging and fellowship to take into the future.”
Robert Burns penned the poem in 1788 and it is said to be set to an old folk song from the Lowland in Scots tradition, but interestingly, the melody sung the world round on New Year’s is not the original tune that the music was set to. The older tune is said to be sung in Scotland in tradition. I couldn’t find the original melody for this old song, but I wish I had — I’d love to hear what it was all about.
Another interesting fact is that it was Guy Lombardo who popularized the song and its use at New Year’s — although the song was brought to the United States by Scottish immigrants. Lombardo started his broadcasts in 1929 — and it just somehow caught on — to the world at large.
In the words of Robert Burns, himself:
“… is not the Scots phrase, ‘Auld Lang Syne’, exceedingly expressive – there is an old song and tune which has often thrilled thro’ my soul”.
Robert Burns — a very handsome young man — who, though born a peasant, yet lived with vigor and unfortunately for the world at large died young of rheumatic fever, even as his wife was giving birth to their 9th child. He was only 37 years old.
9 children? Goodness, he was busy, wasn’t he? But he gave the world so much!
The words to Auld Lang Syne — taken from the website: http://www.scotland.org/ features/ / the-history-and-words-of-auld-lang–syne
Fancy singing along yourself? Here are the verses, and a translation of the words to Auld Lang Syne:
Scots Language version
Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.
Chorus
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne,
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Chorus
We twa hae run about the braes
And pu’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.
Chorus
We twa hae paidl’d i’ the burn,
Frae mornin’ sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.
Chorus
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right guid willy waught,
For auld lang syne.
Chorus
English translated version
Long, Long Ago
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And long, long ago.
Chorus
And for long, long ago, my dear
For long, long ago,
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For long, long ago
And surely youll buy your pint-jug!
And surely I’ll buy mine!
And we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For long, long ago.
Chorus
We two have run about the hills
And pulled the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered manys the weary foot
Since long, long ago.
Chorus
We two have paddled in the stream,
From morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
Since long, long ago.
Chorus
And there’s a hand, my trusty friend!
And give us a hand of yours!
And we’ll take a deep draught of good-will
For long, long ago.
Chorus
It’s been a rough year for many of us. And yet, in some ways, our spirit has risen up to the occasion. It is my wish for you that this next year be a better and more promising year. I think we still have a bit of a rough ride ahead of us, but if we can keep loving one another throughout this next year, I think we’ll be okay.
Let me know your thoughts. And, also what do you plan to do this New Year’s Eve? For our family, it’s games! Games! Games! Maybe some slow dancing, too…
Merry Christmas! For y’all who came to the blog and left a post, I’ll be gifting each and every one of you the e-book, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME. Bear with me as I search out your emails and send you a bookfunnel link to the e-book THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME.
I’ll be starting on sending this along to each of you privately tomorrow, so bear with me as I email y’all directly. You can always email me, too, with your email address at karenkay.author@startmail.com. But I should be able to get your address from this site.
Is it really only two and a half weeks before Christmas? Wow! Time is going a little too fast for me. Rush…rush…rush…
But, if I can take a moment in the midst of all the rush, I’d like to talk about the concept of giving and how it was a little different in Native America.
In the days of old, before the white man came to this country and influenced the American Indian into other traditions, giving gifts to others was a point of survival. No chief could become chief who did not give to the needy and the less well to do. Often the chief of the tribe was the poorest person in the tribe because he gave away almost all that he had. However, contrary to a more socialist point of view, this was not pure socialism, because the giving was never regulated and never mandatory. (Compare that to our income tax system.) Only the strong, the wise and the kindhearted could be counted on to give, and it was considered one of the most aspired-to attributes.
Actually, it requires a bit of mind change to grasp the American Indian idea of giving. If a man attained a higher state or did some great deed, he was not given something by the tribe, but rather, he gave gifts to others. If a woman attained some desired state (a young girl attaining puberty for instance — or an older woman being praised for her handicraft) she and her relatives worked night and day to give gifts to others. An example of this might be this: Say it is your birthday, but instead of you getting gifts on your birthday, you and your relatives would work for months and months in order to have a feast, where one would give to the community in celebration of something one attained. This was considered the highest honor one might place upon a family member.
This tradition is still carried on in Native America today. When a family wishes to distinguish one of its own, members of the family will work for many months (sometimes years) to produce goods, not for oneself, but to give away to others — in honor of the family member. In this manner, we have an example of giving something that cannot be measured in terms of finance. The gift of caring, the gift of giving of oneself and one’s time.
These presents in Native America weren’t wrapped. Sometimes the offerings were simply in the form of food or clothing or blankets. Sometimes, in the case of a marriage or some other big event, items such as a tepee were donated to the cause (remember in the movie, Dances With Wolves and the tepee the star of the movie was given?) When one couldn’t give because one didn’t have the wherewithal to do so, that person might give away all that he had. In this way such articles were kept afloat in the society. Sometimes one bestowed the very best possession that he treasured most, especially so if there were a sickness in the family and one wanted to ensure their beloved one’s recovery. Sometimes the donation was in the form of gifting a service to one’s people. Certain societies had stringent rules about bundles or other sacred items and most people didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of these items (such as becoming a bundle holder.) In this case the bequest would be in the form of the entire family taking on the responsibility, in order to preserve the spiritual traditions of the people.
This picture was taken at a give-away celebration that my friend, Patricia gave many years ago. Another aspect to the American Indian’s way of thinking, was that it was considered a great honor if one gave in such a way that the other person didn’t feel they had to return the favor. This happened to George Catlin in the 1830’s when a young warrior bestowed him with the diary that Catlin had lost. The giving was done in such a way that Catlin was unable to give-back, since he was embarking upon a ship.
There is yet another example of giving by the American Indian comes to us from the Iroquois. The Iroquois (which was composed of originally 5 tribes and eventually 6) had a system of government that was truly Of the people, For the people, and By the people. Men served and were never permitted to draw any kind of pay for serving — it was simply considered their duty and their way of helping the tribe. Such service is still in operation today.
I’d like to disagree with corporate America for a moment if I might. I think the most potent gifts are those that one cannot measure by physical means. When my kids were growing up, they used to give me coupons for Christmas — I still have them to this day — little chores they would do for me upon presentation of the coupon. I guess the point is that one can always give something of themselves to another.
And here’s the most beautiful gift of all — something that those who crave material wealth over all else will never understand nor will they ever receive this gift (though some might pretend an affection) — the gift of love — true love. No gold, no silver, can ever replace these gifts, since they have their roots in one’s heart and one’s nature.
And so, I would like to make this wish during this New Year’s season: That the reasons for war — and the profit received from war — will perish from this earth.
And with this thought in mind, I leave you with a YouTube video of a song performed by Keith Whitley (who I believe is one of the best country singers to every grace the stage).
And speaking of gifts, I will be giving away a free copy of my newest release, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE — just look over to the side here for the Giveaway Guidelines.
Many, many thank yous to all of you who came to the blog today. Each and every one of you made the day special for me.
We do have a winner for the book, The Eagle and the Flame. And that winner is:
Teresa Warner
Congratulations Teresa. The book can be an e-book or print book — your choice. Please do contact me personally at karen kay(dot)author(at)startmail(dot)com — insert a (.) for (dot) and (@) for (at).
Again, thank you all for coming to the blog yesterday and leaving your thoughts.
Am really excited to let you know that my newest effort, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE is due to be released on November 15th. Yea!
So, I thought I’d give you a quick glance at the cover and a little excerpt from the book, as well as the blurb. Hope you’ll enjoy the excerpt!
IRON WOLF’S BRIDE
By
Karen Kay
BACK BLURB:
I will return to you, my love…
Jane Glenforest’s father believed she was too young to marry, so he’d stolen her and her newborn son away from the handsome Assiniboine Indian she’d wed and taken her to Surrey, England. In spite of divorce papers and rumors he’s wed another, Jane’s never forgotten the man who’d stolen her heart and given her son legitimacy. When Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show comes to England—bringing her ex-husband with it—Jane’s curious to see her lost love, in spite of her new fiancé.
Although Iron Wolf’s purpose in working for Bill Cody’s Wild West show is to fulfill his father’s vision to find and stop a deceiver, he fell in love with and married Jane Glenforest. But, no sooner had Jane given birth than her father stole her away. Now, a few years later, Iron Wolf is arriving in England with the hope of rekindling the love he once shared with Jane. However, instead of love, he finds his wife loathes him, believing he has married another. And, when he discovers she is engaged to another man, he declares war on both her and the fiancé.
But when their son is kidnapped, Jane and Iron Wolf must work together to rescue him. And, as danger escalates, they discover trusting each other might be the only way to save their son. Will Jane and Iron Wolf learn to forgive one another, to reignite the embers of a passion that never died, or will the lies of a deceiver destroy their love forever?
Warning: Rediscovered love might cause sleepless nights spent in the arms of one’s true love.
Iron Wolf’s Bride
An Excerpt:
Despite the warmth of the evening, the marble flooring of the foyer was cold beneath Jane’s slippers. She was gazing forward, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows which graced the manor’s entryway. Lacy, white curtains framed the windows, and, as Jane reached out to touch their softness, she recalled the feel of a smooth, deerskin bag that Iron Wolf had given her upon their marriage. She’d had to leave it behind.
Iron Wolf… How she wished that this evening were already over.
Biting her lip, she looked forward once more, out the window. There were so many carriages out there; there must have been fifty or more of them, carrying the cast from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show here tonight. And, one by one they pulled into the sweeping driveway of her uncle’s red-brick mansion.
The hour was early evening, and the many lanterns—which were scattered here and there along the brick drive—shone with a hazy light into the mist of the darkness, causing small pockets of foggy light to glitter, as though held there by a ghostly hand. It caused the carriages to be appear to be as dark and as dreary as a funeral procession.
A shiver rushed over Jane’s skin as she realized that the ghosts from her past had come to haunt her tonight. Iron Wolf would be amongst these people, and her tension because of this knowledge was so great, she held onto Nathaniel with a tight grip on his arm. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind and he patted her hand, his touch reassuring and gentle.
That her uncle had invited the entire cast of the Wild West Show to his estate was to Jane not to be believed, especially because tonight should have been the celebration party of her marriage to Nathaniel. But, her uncle had explained that because the musicians had already been hired and an assortment of cooks were still on hand to provide the dinner, the original form of the party had changed from being a quiet dinner party to a ball and a sit-down dinner.
Why was her uncle honoring Bill Cody’s Wild West Show? Didn’t he disdain those public gatherings which he labeled as “spectacles”? Was it because Jane’s sister, Luci, performed with the show? Perhaps.
And, of course Luci would be present here tonight, as would Luci’s husband, Wind Eagle. Blue Thunder would also be present…and Iron Wolf. There would be little chance she could avoid her former husband this evening, since he and his two friends were known to be Buffalo Bill’s most popular act—popular, that is, with the ladies.
During The Wild West’s long run, the threesome’s performances—which included not only daring feats of horsemanship, but also expert marksmanship—had gained steady popularity. Indeed, a few years past, the three young men had added the American Indian style of singing and dancing as part of their entertainment. From there, and because of that, the number of tickets sold to those of the female gender—young and old—had tripled the income of the show, if one were to believe the newspapers. Indeed, her uncle had informed her that Buffalo Bill had asked the three young men to entertain this small gathering of London’s “elect” which was to be present here tonight.
At the moment, she could do little more than wonder how she was to get through the evening with her emotions still intact. Pray, it might be the greatest acting performance of her life, since she was upset with them all: her sister, Wind Eagle, Blue Thunder and especially Iron Wolf. But, she would sooner die from the heartbreak they had caused her than to openly show the hurt of their two-and-a-half-year indifference. She promised herself that she would paste her most cordial smile onto her countenance, and she would grin as though her life depended upon it…and perhaps it did.
Jeremy, her son, would not be present at the festivities tonight, and for this Jane was indebted to Marci, who would attend to him and ensure his bedtime schedule remained the same as usual. More commonly, Jane saw to her son’s nighttime storytelling and to the delightful chore of tucking him into bed. Often, when there was a party, Jeremy was permitted to attend it.
But not tonight. Tonight she needed every bit of her attention focused upon her smile and getting through the evening without grief and tears.
Suddenly her heart seemed to stop. There he was, exiting a carriage and stepping toward the house in the casual manner he seemed to have perfected. His friends, Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder, as well as Jane’s sister, Luci, flanked him on either side. Suddenly Jane’s breathing stopped and her heart raced, reminding her that she had not yet healed from the wounds Iron Wolf had inflicted upon her.
How innocent she had been back then, although, if she were to be honest, she would admit to wishing to be so happy again. Ah, if life could only be like that once more.
She sighed, noticing at the same time that her sister, Luci, was dressed as she usually was when she performed with the show—as a boy—and Jane was startled to witness it. Surely, Luci didn’t have to still pretend to be someone she was not, did she? Didn’t she realize that dressing as a boy here would give away her true identity?
Whatever the reason for the disguise, it made Jane feel uneasy. Was there a continuing danger to Luci and to herself, as well, that demanded her sister continue the disguise?
But, she quickly forgot the question, when, seeing Iron Wolf walk slowly toward her, Jane’s attention came away from her sister to focus squarely onto her former husband. He wore his best clothing tonight, she noted, and he looked so handsome that she could not suppress the soft gasp which fell from her lips.
A tanned-buckskin shirt and leggings seemed to caress his casual movements, and she realized she had rarely seen him dress in this manner, for Buffalo Bill provided the cotton shirts and trousers that the American Indian performers wore. His style of buckskin clothing was adorned with beads set in round designs of orange, blue and yellow colors, and the same scheme was repeated on his breechcloth and his moccasins. She caught sight of the several feathers that were fastened together and fell down from the back of his head, disappearing from her view as Iron Wolf stepped readily forward. He had left his hair loose and long tonight, the whole of it thrown over his shoulders. There was no bow in his hands or quiver full of arrows upon his back, but still, she could see that he was armed, for a colt .45 was neatly tucked into a holster that fit around his lower waist.
He had painted two streaks of red upon his cheeks, but he wore no other war paint. From this distance, Jane’s stomach was already reacting in turmoil toward him, warning her of the danger he presented her. But, she had no choice but to ignore it. She had promised herself that she would play her part of a happy young lady tonight and nothing would distract her from that, pretense though it was.
The havoc of her emotional fears and grief, however, was so great, that when the four of them walked into the foyer, Jane thought she might faint. But, she mustered up the act she had decided to present them, and, as she and Nathaniel paced toward the four of them, her grip on Nathaniel’s arm was so tight, it might have been made of iron instead of flesh and blood.
She smiled at all four of them briefly, then said, “Luci, Wind Eagle, how are you?”
“We are well,” answered Wind Eagle.
“Good, I am glad to hear it.” Jane smiled again, but couldn’t quite look at Iron Wolf as she continued, “Iron Wolf, Blue Thunder, you are both welcome here tonight.”
Blue Thunder nodded. Iron Wolf, however, did nothing and said nothing, causing Jane to look up at him briefly. In that glance, short as it was, she saw that he did not gaze at her, but had cast his glance upon her hand which remained clutched upon Nathaniel’s arm, while Nathaniel’s hand covered hers.
And then, before she could look away, Iron Wolf thrust his chin forward and stared down his nose at her, looking at her as though she were made of something distasteful. He didn’t smile; he didn’t say a word. And, the expression on his countenance—outside of disgust—was so blank that little other emotion could be seen there.
He continued to remain silent, though his brief look at Nathaniel could have melted steel. But, instead of speaking, he turned quickly away from Jane and Nathaniel, following the other performers into the ballroom. And Jane, glad to have the first introductions accomplished without error on her part, sighed. Hopefully, the rest of the evening would go as planned.
***
To say that Iron Wolf was upset would not have done justice to the fury raging within him. Who was that man? Whoever he was, he had been touching her. And worse, she had let him, had perhaps encouraged him, for her hand had rested on that man’s arm.
What had happened here in this strange country of England? Was his wife’s love for him so lacking that she had placed another man in her affections? He blew out a breath in revulsion. It might be so.
Well, let them both look at and try to rationalize the performance he had this moment decided to give in this foreign and hostile place. Their music featured both Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder as the vocalists in their trio. Wind Eagle also kept time with a buffalo-hide drum and Blue Thunder accompanied the rhythm by shaking two different rattles. While Iron Wolf also sang at times, he usually played his flute in these performances. Also, he had become the group’s dancer.
For this, Iron Wolf was grateful. His part in their performance tonight would allow him to give the presentation of his life. She might not like what he was about to do, but he would ensure she would never again relegate him to the back recesses of her mind.
Áwicakeya, he dared her to forget about him again…ever.
***
Jane didn’t wish to view Iron Wolf’s and his friends’ act of drumming, singing and dancing. Indeed, she wished she could be anywhere else but here, looking on. But, it was not to be.
The gala which should have been her wedding party had turned sour. Not that it was anyone else’s fault. It was she, after all, who had postponed her wedding, and all because of one man, her former husband, Iron Wolf.
Servants had arranged the front of the ballroom into a stage for the performers, who were billed under their English names: Charles Wind Eagle, Luke Blue Thunder Striking, and of course her former husband, Michael Iron Wolf. Chairs were clustered around the stage in five different rows. After this performance, a ball was scheduled to follow, and, immediately after that, a sit-down dinner.
As the three men stepped forward, Iron Wolf turned so he was facing forward. He caught her eye, and Jane drew in her breath sharply. His look at her was so hostile, she had no choice but to look away.
Soon, the music began. Both Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder were singing. Blue Thunder took the lead with the song’s high-pitched intro. Wind Eagle followed the lead, singing the same minor-keyed melody. Wind Eagle beat out time on a hide-covered, hand-held drum, and Blue Thunder shook the two different rattles. Iron Wolf wasn’t singing, instead he was playing his flute, but it wasn’t long before he began to dance. Indeed, he was the only one of the three men who was dancing.
Too soon, it became evident that Iron Wolf was fashioning his performance to be much too personal, and Jane caught her breath as he stared directly at her while his dance took on a sensual, sexual nature, his hips jutting forward in time to the music. Jane stirred uneasily, for a passionate sort of excitement was arising within her, and she didn’t wish to experience it.
As his dance continued in much the same manner, she wondered how much of this she could take. Already recollections of their lovemaking from their not-too-distant past were materializing in her mind, and the reminiscence of their lovemaking flooded her body with an unwanted, yet passionate response. As she watched, she couldn’t control the unwelcome, yet soul-stirring excitement which burned like fire over her nerve endings. It was too much and she knew she had to get away.
But she couldn’t jump up suddenly and run from the room. Her uncle, her aunt and even Nathaniel would be scandalized. Briefly, she looked over her shoulder, searching for a reprieve. But, all she saw were her uncle, Buffalo Bill and her uncle’s moneyed friends, who were standing or sitting toward the back of the room.
There was no comfort to be found there. Looking forward again, her eyes met Iron Wolf’s angry and openly hostile gaze. What did he have to be angry about? It was she who was the victim of his scandalous affair.
Still, she wished now that Nathaniel hadn’t picked the front section of seats in order to watch the entertainment. She had nowhere to go.
Luckily, Luci had taken up a position on Jane’s left while Nathaniel reposed on her right, and, despite Nathaniel’s presence beside her—perhaps because of it—Iron Wolf’s gaze at her did not allow to her look away. All the while, his blatantly passionate dance made love to her. Even his flute playing did not detract from the explicit, carnal manner of his movements.
Unfortunately for Jane, his dance was causing her usually conservative composure to shatter. Suddenly, Iron Wolf squatted down on one knee, jutted his hips forward briefly, then jumped up with a vigor that proclaimed his youthful prowess. The suggestive movement caused her heart to leap, and Jane wished she were embarrassed by his antics. The truth was, however, she wasn’t. She was responding to it—unwillingly, yes. But, she was reacting to it all the same, and in kind.
She had to look away. She tried to do so, but found it was impossible. He was seducing her in front of everyone here, plain and simple. With his legs spread apart, he fell down into a partial side-split, and, taking the mouthpiece of his flute out of his mouth, he held his hands up in the air as he slid back up into a standing position. He then fell into a dance step—up and back, standing straight, then hunched over—all the while rocking and jutting his hips forward in so sensuous a manner, and in such an apparent, sexual way, it took Jane’s breath away. Parts of her body appeared to be out of her control, being awakened by Iron Wolf’s display, and, try as she might to suppress the stirred-up lust he was causing, she couldn’t. She gulped nervously.
Luci reached out to take Jane’s hand into her own, and Jane was glad of her presence beside her. At last the music became low and soft, allowing Iron Wolf to speak out in English, and he said,
My wife, what has happened to us?
My wife, I have waited for you.
My wife, did you wait for me, honor me?
No, you did not.
And yet, my wife, I give you all of me now.
Will you take me?
It is not too late, my wife; it is not too late for us.”
His gaze was direct and piercing, and there was no doubt that his poetry was for no one but her. In response, Jane could barely move; she couldn’t speak.
After his few words, the performance ended and he stepped quickly toward her. But, Jane wasn’t about to confront him. Not here, not now.
She jumped up as though there were a wound-up coil within her, and, turning around toward the entrance of the ballroom, she ran out of the room as fast as she could, aware of, but unable to look at the many curious glances sent her way. She didn’t stop, nor did she pause. Instead, she fled out into the foggy, darkened night, running along a pathway which led toward the gardens. There was a labyrinth there that she knew well. She intended to lose herself in it. Now.
***
Iron Wolf followed her. It was time to learn what was happening here. Who was that man?
He intended this to be his first question to the woman who should be, and still was, his wife. His second question to her would be why she believed he, her husband, had betrayed her. But this could wait.
He noted that she had fled into a maze that was flanked by fragrant bushes which were taller than a man, and, were he not the scout and tracker he was, he might have become lost within these high shrubs, for the paths intersected one another and led in multiple directions. But he didn’t lose his way. He found her soon enough.
Once he had discovered her, he spoke out softly, so she might become aware he had followed her. “What is going on here? Who is that man you were touching, the one who sat next to you? What is he to you?”
Jane spun around, the look of surprise on her countenance quickly turning to anger. She didn’t pause an instant, though, as she accused, “How dare you follow me!”
“I am your husband. It is my duty to follow you.”
“Well, you can go away now. I came here to be alone.”
Iron Wolf didn’t leave. Instead, he repeated his question, for he intended it to be answered, and asked once more, “Who is that man?”
“That man?”
“The one you touched. The one who sat beside you tonight.”
“He and I were to be married today.”
She turned her back on him and Iron Wolf didn’t speak; he couldn’t, for he felt as though she had punched him in the gut.
She added, “We didn’t marry today, as it turns out, because I would like my sister to be a part of the marriage ceremony. So we have postponed our wedding for the time being. And now you see that I, too, might marry another, as you have.”
Although he wished to speak out loudly, to rage the truth at her, he found it impossible to find his tongue, and so he paused until at last he was able to say, “My wife, you have become like a wild pony in my absence. How can you marry another when you are already married to me?”
“Am I? Do you forget you divorced me? And, how dare you call me ‘wild,’ when you…when you…” Her voice caught.
He ignored the insult and said instead, “You have now accused me of this too many times. Who has told this to you?”
“No one has ‘told’ it to me, as you say it. It was written up in the newspapers, and I have the divorce papers that you signed, or have you conveniently forgotten that? And, how dare you seduce me in front of all these people tonight; you, who are married to another. Is she here tonight? Does she care that you looked at me as you danced as though you were making love to me?”
She spoke so swiftly that he took a moment to understand all she had said, and then he asked, “Do you speak of the white-man’s newspapers where you saw my ‘wife’?”
“Of course.”
“Who showed this to you?”
“Does it matter?”
He sighed. “Hau, hau, it matters. I would ask you again, who has said this to you?”
“My uncle, if you must know.”
“Your uncle who owns this house?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Iron Wolf took a moment to collect his thoughts, then said, “You are wrong to believe these people, even if they be family.”
“So you can say easily enough. But, my uncle is beyond reproach and I am certain he wouldn’t lie to me. Besides, you forget that I have evidence of your betrayal of me.”
“No,” he countered, “what you have is ‘proof’ that is a lie. And, now I say that it is good you did not marry that man this day, for had you done so, you would have committed a grave error, one I could not easily set aside. So now, you must decide and choose between one or the other of us: me—your husband or that man. For, even in my society, a woman may have only one husband.”
“I have already chosen, and that man is not you.”
“Hau, then I will go.”
“Good.”
“But before I go, I wish to see these papers you have mentioned to me many times. I would witness these lies with my own eyes.”
“They are not lies.”
He raised his voice. “I say they are, and if you continue to tell me these untruths, I will say that you are a woman of no honor, who tells lies, as well.”
“How dare you shout at me, and how dare you say I am not honorable!”
He blew out his breath in an attempt to control his temper. At length, he said, “I am a man who must be convinced. Show me the papers you speak of, for I tell you true: I did not place my written name on anything. I have no other wife, but you. Why would I want another woman when the one I have is the sweetest, the most beautiful woman I have ever known or seen? I ask you, why would I throw away the woman of my heart, for, if I were to do that, would I not destroy her and myself, too?”
He noted that the compliment, spoken as it was from his heart, might have found its target. However, she did not respond favorably, and she turned her back upon him.
He encouraged, “Show me.”
When she turned around, she was crying, and his heart sank to realize that his raised voice and unkind words might have caused her grief. Still, what he’d said had been true.
“Do you really think I stoop to tell fibs? That I don’t have these things in my possession which show you betrayed me and then married another?”
“I would see them.”
She paused, as though she seriously considered his demand, even against her will. At length, she said, “I suppose that might be a fair request. So follow me. I will show you, although I am certain you are already aware of what I am talking about.”
He nodded, but said nothing except, “Show me. I will do as you ask and follow you.”
She turned around then and stomped out of the maze. And, Iron Wolf, astonished again by the obvious—that this was no act and that his wife truly hated him— trailed after her.
*************************
Well, that’s it for now. Look for the book November 15th, 2020 on Amazon. Hope y’all will let me know if you like the cover as well as I do. The male model is Lakota, by the way.
Also, book #1 of the Wild West Series is on sale now for $.99. It’s the first time this book has been put on sale for this low of a price.
You can get the book at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and Itunes, but I’m going to leave the link here on the blog for Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/w49evpb
Also, I’ll be giving away a free e-book or paperback of the first book in The Wild West Series, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME. Remember to look at the rules we have here for giveaways. Just leave a comment and you’re entered into the drawing.
There are two winners today, instead of one. To be fair, I do actually draw that names and sometimes two little slips of paper are drawn instead of one.
And…(drum roll)…the winners are:
Lori Smanski & Trudy C
Congratulations to you both. Since the books come directly from Amazon from me to you, I would need the address that you use at Amazon to purchase things. Please do contact me at: karenkay(dot)author(at)startmail(dot)com — insert a (.) for (dot) and @ for (at).
Again, Congratulations and many thanks to all who came to the blog yesterday and who left a message. I learned much from you all.
As an aside, the entire series of the Legendary Warriors (WAR CLOUD’S PASSION; LONE ARROW’S PRIDE; SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE; WOLF SHADOW’S PROMISE) is on sale, as is the book, BLACK EAGLE. The sale will be ending soon (within the next few days).
For any of you who have been following my posts about the true story of Pocahontas — a true American heroine — this is the last in a series of three. For anyone who has not been following the story, or who want to go back and read through the earlier posts so that this make more sense, here are the links:
As a quick overview, here is what we’ve learned so far: Pocahontas was too young to have had a romance with John Smith. We also learned that John Smith was adopted into Powhatan society. In my last post I showed that she was abducted by the English and forced to live with them. According to Pocahontas — who confided this to her sister — she was raped and was pregnant. It is believed, however, that she was not married to the man who did this to her…Thomas. Instead she was married to a man who could prove to be useful to the Colony if he could obtain secrets from the Powhatan people to turn those secrets to profit. Note again, her son’s name was Thomas, not John. Here below is the final installment of this story.
“According to …sacred oral history, the Native people of the New World possessed the knowledge of how to cure and process tobacco successfully. The Spanish gained this knowledge from the Native communities they had subdued.” THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS.
But, here might be exactly what the English were looking for to end the financial worries that had plagued the English settlement. The growing of tobacco and its curing methods might, indeed, provide the means to put the problems that had plagued the colonists for so long.
Because of Pocahontas’ marriage to an Englishman, the priests’ concern over the sharing of their secrets concerning the curing of tobacco seemed to be placated. However, oral history points out that the efforts of the Powhatan priests to help the English had the opposite effect of what the priests had hoped for, meaning that the priests had wished to persuade the English into becoming friendly and a part of the tribe. But, instead of the English embracing the Powhatan people as brothers, it appeared that the new success unleashed an extraordinary rash of greed on the part of the newcomers. Tobacco became the gold of the New World. As a result, more Powhatan lands were trespassed and more killing ensued. Additionally, more of the American Indian people became enslaved by the newly “successful” Englishmen.
But, back in the Colony, it was agreed that it was time to go back to England. The infamous Captain Samuel Argall (who had abducted and kidnapped Pocahontas) captained the ship that was to take Rolfe, Pocahontas, their son and members of the Powhatan tribe to England. The reasons for the trip were many: finances were needed to refinance Jamestown, merchants needed to talk to the colonists to ensure more success, but perhaps the most important reason for going back to England was that public approval was needed in order to secure the colony.
Pocahontas provided a means to “show” the English people that the people of Jamestown and the natives were on friendly terms. Pocahontas’s sister, Mattachanna and her husband accompanied Pocahontas to England, as did several other Powhatan people. It had appeared to the Powhatan people that with so many of her own countrymen surrounding her, there would be safety in numbers. Wise men and priests, however, advised Wahunsenaca not to let his daughter go to England; they said that she would never return. But how could he stop it? She was already in the hands of the Englishmen, who could kill her or use her in a bad way. He considered a rescue too risky. She might die.
In the end, Pocahontas went to England.
It was in England that Pocahontas’s “eyes were opened” to the truth. Up to that time Pocahontas hadn’t known that she was being used as a pawn might be used in a game of chess, because she didn’t really understand the English or what drove them to do what they did. But, Pocahontas was far from being a chess piece. She was a flesh and blood heroine.
What opened her eyes was a meeting she had with John Smith. It was because of this meeting that she learned she had been lied to: he was not dead. Moreover, she discovered that he had utterly betrayed her father and her people because he had taken a solemn oath to her people to represent them to the English; he had promised her father that he would bring the English under the power of the Powhatan. She learned he had never intended to honor his word, that he had used her father and her people to simply get what he wanted.
Pocahontas was outraged and she directed her rage toward Smith at their meeting. Understand, she was not angry because of any lost love or any young girl crush on the man. Rather she had been alerted to the truth: that this mad-man had betrayed her father and her people.
It is known to this day through oral tradition that it was with horror that Pocahontas learned what John Smith’s true intentions had been toward her people — had always been toward her people: to take their lives, their lands and everything they held dear.
Pocahontas now longed to go home and inform her father of all she had learned. She intended to do exactly that. Unfortunately, she let that be known to the wrong people and the wrong man. While we don’t know what John Smith did or whom he told of his “talk” with Pocahontas, we can surmise from the evil that followed the “talk,” that he told Pocahontas’ words to those who stood to lose money on their investments, and/or those who stood to gain from the merchants’ investments: i.e., Dale, Rolfe and Whitaker or some other merchants.
Meanwhile, the whole party set sail back to England in the spring of 1617 with Samuel Argall again as the captain of the ship. That evening Pocahontas, Rolfe and Argall dined in the captain’s chamber.
“Pocahontas quickly became ill. She returned to her quarters by herself, sick to her stomach, and vomited. She told (her sister) Mattachanna that the English must have put something in her food. Mattachana and Uttamattamakin tried to care for Pocahontas in her sudden illness. As Pocahontas began to convulse, Mattachanna went to get Rolfe. When they returned, Pocahontas had died.” — THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS.
They hadn’t even attained open sea yet. They were still in the river. Rolfe immediately asked to be taken to Gravesend, where he buried Pocahontas and left Thomas in England for his English relatives to raise. Rolfe never saw him again.
Upon returning to the New World, Mattachanna and her husband, Uttamattamakin — who was the high priest — reported to Chief Wahunsenaca what had happened in England, including the murder of his daughter. It is from this account that the oral history has been passed down from generation to generation.
But who killed her and why? Again, from the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, “Rolfe and the Virginia Company associates ascertained that Pocahontas knew that Smith had lied to her father and that some English businessmen were behind a scheme to remove her father from his throne and take the land from the Powhatan people. This justified the decision by the English colonists not to take Pocahontas back to her homeland…. Certain people believed that Pocahontas would endanger the English settlement, especially because she had new insights into the political strategy of the English colonists and (their intention) to break down the Powhatan structure, so they plotted to murder her.”
Again, from the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, “…Dale, Rolfe, and Whitaker had close ties to each other. All three had major roles in what happened in Pocahontas’s life after she was abducted. Dale eventually took custody of Pocahontas after Argall took her to Jamestown. Whitaker maintained Pocahontas’s house arrest and surveillance. All three sought to convert Pocahontas to Christianity. Rolfe married Pocahontas. Dale provided a large tract of land for Rolfe to grow tobacco. A Dale-Rolfe-Whitaker trio comprising agreements and pacts is not out of the realm of possibility, but … sacred oral history does not reveal who or how many persons were behind her murder. We believe it is most likely that more than one person was involved.”
So ends my story of the abduction and murder of a true heroine. A heroine because she tried to unite two different peoples. A heroine because she endured much in an effort to help her people. She did it with little complaint, though it goes without saying that she yearned for the company of her own people, her own little son and the husband of her heart, Kocoum.
It’s not exactly the Disney version or the fairy tale story that we’ve all been spoon-fed, I’m afraid. But it’s an honest view. It shows the courage and persistence of a young woman who did all she could to help her father and her people. And, to this end, she is a true American heroine.
I believe that the purpose of history is to show what causes created what effects. In an honest report of history, once can easily see what effects were created and thus use history as a real education. As they say “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
Of course, one has to presuppose that one’s history is being told truthfully, and not rewritten versions of an event that will further along some vested interest. So what can we learn from this true story of a brave heroine?
I’ll give you my thoughts on the subject, and perhaps you can give me yours. The mistakes that I see that Wahunsenaca (Pocahontas’s father) made were: 1) He didn’t get to know the Englishman’s views of ethics (or lack thereof), supposing instead that all peoples valued the same thing; 2) He sought to placate evil instead of confronting it and eradicating it when he had a chance of winning against it; and 3) One cannot easily placate greed and evil. It seems to feed on itself. To me such greed is vampire-like — one can never do enough. It’s as though one’s own good deeds disappear into a vacuum — a “ho-hum — what else can you do for me,” attitude. The arrogance and snobbery of the criminally insane is beyond belief. And, as far as Pocahontas, herself, I’d say that one could learn that one shouldn’t say too much to those who have raped, kidnapped and/or have harmed or mean to harm you in some way.
After all, the opposite of the right to speak one’s mind is the right to not speak it to those who mean you harm. She was only in her early twenties. Did I know this valuable God-given right when I was this young? I can say quite honestly that I did not.
Well, there you have it. What do you think? It’s doubtful Hollywood would make a movie of this story, though I wish that they would. But this is the story that has been passed down from generation to generation amongst the Powhatan people and their various tribes, specifically the Mattaponi. For further information, I would highly recommend the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS by Dr. Linwood “Little Bear” Custalow and Angela L. Daniel “Silver Star.” Read it for yourself and come to your own conclusions. It is a story of the oral tradition of Pocahontas. It is not a made-up story. Here is a link to get the book: https://tinyurl.com/yy6zccl2
So come on in and let me know your thoughts. Is there anything you can think of that can be learned from this “history lesson”?
And now for the give-away promised: I’ll be gifting the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, to a lucky blogger. I’m giving away the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, because this story is one of an Eastern Indian tribe, the Iroquois. Although the Powhatan tribe is not the same as the Iroquois, both of them were North Eastern tribes.
Please note: The pricing of the books, WAR CLOUD’S PASSION, LONE ARROW’S PRIDE, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE, WOLF SHADOW’S PROMISE and BLACK EAGLE are once again on sale. Temporarily, they had gone up in price to their usual price at $4.99. But check back at Amazon soon. They will be going back on sale from $.99 – $2.99.
Hope you have enjoyed this blog and the previous two blogs about the same subject. Peace…
Thanks so much to everyone who came to the blog yesterday or today and who left their comment or viewpoint on the somewhat controversial post. I enjoyed reading your comments and thoughts on the matter. We do have a winner, and that winner is:
Alice
Congratulations Alice. Now, in order to get the e-book to you, could you please email me privately?
My address is: karenkay(dot)author(at)earthlink(dot)net
Again, many, many thanks to all those who spent some time reading and then also commenting on the post.
Howdy!
Howdy!
/ the-history-and-words-of-auld-lang–syne
There is yet another example of giving by the American Indian comes to us from the Iroquois. The Iroquois (which was composed of originally 5 tribes and eventually 6) had a system of government that was truly Of the people, For the people, and By the people. Men served and were never permitted to draw any kind of pay for serving — it was simply considered their duty and their way of helping the tribe. Such service is still in operation today.
IRON WOLF’S BRIDE
Also, book #1 of the Wild West Series is on sale now for $.99. It’s the first time this book has been put on sale for this low of a price.
As a quick overview, here is what we’ve learned so far: Pocahontas was too young to have had a romance with John Smith. We also learned that John Smith was adopted into Powhatan society. In my last post I showed that she was abducted by the English and forced to live with them. According to Pocahontas — who confided this to her sister — she was raped and was pregnant. It is believed, however, that she was not married to the man who did this to her…Thomas. Instead she was married to a man who could prove to be useful to the Colony if he could obtain secrets from the Powhatan people to turn those secrets to profit. Note again, her son’s name was Thomas, not John. Here below is the final installment of this story.
Because of Pocahontas’ marriage to an Englishman, the priests’ concern over the sharing of their secrets concerning the curing of tobacco seemed to be placated. However, oral history points out that the efforts of the Powhatan priests to help the English had the opposite effect of what the priests had hoped for, meaning that the priests had wished to persuade the English into becoming friendly and a part of the tribe. But, instead of the English embracing the Powhatan people as brothers, it appeared that the new success unleashed an extraordinary rash of greed on the part of the newcomers. Tobacco became the gold of the New World. As a result, more Powhatan lands were trespassed and more killing ensued. Additionally, more of the American Indian people became enslaved by the newly “successful” Englishmen.
Pocahontas provided a means to “show” the English people that the people of Jamestown and the natives were on friendly terms. Pocahontas’s sister, Mattachanna and her husband accompanied Pocahontas to England, as did several other Powhatan people. It had appeared to the Powhatan people that with so many of her own countrymen surrounding her, there would be safety in numbers. Wise men and priests, however, advised Wahunsenaca not to let his daughter go to England; they said that she would never return. But how could he stop it? She was already in the hands of the Englishmen, who could kill her or use her in a bad way. He considered a rescue too risky. She might die.
What opened her eyes was a meeting she had with John Smith. It was because of this meeting that she learned she had been lied to: he was not dead. Moreover, she discovered that he had utterly betrayed her father and her people because he had taken a solemn oath to her people to represent them to the English; he had promised her father that he would bring the English under the power of the Powhatan. She learned he had never intended to honor his word, that he had used her father and her people to simply get what he wanted.
Pocahontas now longed to go home and inform her father of all she had learned. She intended to do exactly that. Unfortunately, she let that be known to the wrong people and the wrong man. While we don’t know what John Smith did or whom he told of his “talk” with Pocahontas, we can surmise from the evil that followed the “talk,” that he told Pocahontas’ words to those who stood to lose money on their investments, and/or those who stood to gain from the merchants’ investments: i.e., Dale, Rolfe and Whitaker or some other merchants. 
So ends my story of the abduction and murder of a true heroine. A heroine because she tried to unite two different peoples. A heroine because she endured much in an effort to help her people. She did it with little complaint, though it goes without saying that she yearned for the company of her own people, her own little son and the husband of her heart, Kocoum. 
I’ll give you my thoughts on the subject, and perhaps you can give me yours. The mistakes that I see that Wahunsenaca (Pocahontas’s father) made were: 1) He didn’t get to know the Englishman’s views of ethics (or lack thereof), supposing instead that all peoples valued the same thing; 2) He sought to placate evil instead of confronting it and eradicating it when he had a chance of winning against it; and 3) One cannot easily placate greed and evil. It seems to feed on itself. To me such greed is vampire-like — one can never do enough. It’s as though one’s own good deeds disappear into a vacuum — a “ho-hum — what else can you do for me,” attitude. The arrogance and snobbery of the criminally insane is beyond belief. And, as far as Pocahontas, herself, I’d say that one could learn that one shouldn’t say too much to those who have raped, kidnapped and/or have harmed or mean to harm you in some way.
And now for the give-away promised: I’ll be gifting the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, to a lucky blogger. I’m giving away the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, because this story is one of an Eastern Indian tribe, the Iroquois. Although the Powhatan tribe is not the same as the Iroquois, both of them were North Eastern tribes.
