SHE STEALS MY BREATH — Still on sale, but only for a short while longer

Howdy!

And here we are gathering together again on another terrific Tuesday.

This series of The Medicine Men is really opening my eyes to many things.  And, I thought I’d share of few of those with you today.

Am reading the book FOOLS CROW by Thomas E. Mails and I have to admit to having to leave behind many misconceptions I’ve had about the American Indian medicine man.  I had really thought that the medicine men helped their people heal using herbs and driving out the evil spirits with their songs and drumbeats.

Sometimes they did this.  They certainly used herbs and drumming and other rituals to help another become well.  Here is what Fools Crow said about some of the healings he did:

“You know that it is not our custom to talk about healings.  Instead, our words and hearts are sent up to God in prayerful thanksgiving for them.  We tell Him this in our private prayers and in our ceremonies.  No medicine man or patient makes a big thing of it when a healing takes place.  This is why sick people do not come to me or to other medicine men in greater numbers….”

What I’m learning is that the true medicine man from the long ago did not, himself, heal.  Only God did, working through the medicine man, as though the medicine man were a hollow bone, and was there only so God could work through him.

Wow!  I mean, think of it.  God was never divorced from the healing of the sick because the medicine man realized fully and completely that God was healing the person, not he, the medicine man.  This is why Fools Crow devotes an entire chapter in this book about the medicine man and the strict and narrow path such a man had to walk.

Now, since we know that it was God doing the healing, Fools Crow goes on to say that every person he ever did a ceremony for in order for the person to get well — they did get well…and without exception.

Another medicine man — a very handsome man, Black Elk — is once noted as saying that the life of a medicine man is a hard one, because a man must never step foot off the very narrow and ethical path laid out by God, The Creator.  No alcohol, no drugs, no womanizing, no swearing and a medicine man must keep in mind always that the person seeking help may never be able to repay him.  He goes on to say a medicine man has to understand this, and, if necessary be content to never be repaid for the service he rendered.

Black Elk is noted as saying, also, (I heard this online) that the path of a medicine man is so rough to keep to, that one should not seek to become a medicine man, but should wait to be asked and then make his decision.

However, Fools Crow often points to his complete happiness in being able to help and lead his fellow Lakota Indians.  He may not have been rich in material goods, but he was rich in friendships and in the knowledge that he was helping his fellow man.

In the words of Fools Crow:  “Even the medicine men are jealous of one another today.  And that is very bad.  Years ago all of the holy men and medicine men worked together, and as a result accomplished great things.  The medicine men shared their power in the healing rites and in the other ceremonies.  Even when they paid homage to God they did so in such a way as to help one another.  There was unity of purpose.”

 

In the book, SHE STEALS MY BREATH, I don’t actually go into much of the healing ceremonies because I don’t know them.  But what I would like to do is share with you a little bit from the book that I think really defines the American Indian’s point of view of the world.

And so, I hope you will enjoy this excerpt from the book, SHE STEALS MY BREATH.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

One day turned into another.  In the mornings, Eagle Heart left their simple home to hunt, and, when she asked him why he always traveled so far away on his quest for game, he told her a man never looks for or kills animals for food close to where he lives.  To do so could make a man’s home very dangerous, indeed.

During the afternoons, Laylah made it a point to help Eagle Heart skin the animals he brought home.  She also aided him in preparing their meat for roasting, learning this skill gradually.  But, Laylah noticed a few aspects about skinning an animal she had never witnessed before, and it made her curious.

Always, Eagle Heart said prayers over the beast he had killed, and Laylah, under his influence, had begun doing much the same.  Laylah noticed, also, that Eagle Heart gave away much of their food to the Little People and to any of their other animal friends who came to visit.

Once, she had questioned him about this practice of giving away a good deal of their food, and she’d asked, “Do you think it wise to share so much of the meat we have?”

“We have plenty, more than we need, and the hunting here is good because so few predators come to this valley.”

“Of course,” she said.  “Still, wouldn’t it be wise to preserve some of it?  I remember during the snowstorm you had a good supply of dried meat.  Could you show me how to prepare meat this way?”

Áa,” he signed.  “I will show you how to smoke the meat, and your suggestion is a good one.  We should make meat for hard times.  But, an honorable man gives away as much food as he consumes.  It is his duty to ensure his friends are as well fed as he is.  If he has to hunt more often, so be it.”

“No wonder the animals love you so much.”

His simple smile at her gave her much pleasure, as though he bestowed a little bit of heaven on her.

The evenings were all she could have ever wanted, for she had this man entirely to herself, and, after their supper, they made love throughout most the night, both of them catching up on their sleep between lovemaking.

Sometimes Eagle Heart even slept in late, delaying his hunting until the afternoon.  Indeed, the days and evenings were romantic in so many different ways, and Laylah couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

One afternoon, as she was assisting Eagle Heart in skinning the deer he had brought into their camp, she asked, “What is the yellow powder you sprinkle over the animal you have killed?  I hear your prayers, and I understand why you pray over the animals, but what is the yellow dust for?”

“I will show you,” he signed.

She nodded.

“Hunting is and should always be a prayer,” signed Eagle Heart, “for a man must take the life of another in order to ensure his own family does not starve.  Being so close to the animals one needs to kill in order to survive, a man becomes aware of the creation of life all around him.  It is why we pray over the animals we have killed.  But, we do more.

“It is possible I might be able to show you how we try to help the animal we have killed.  I think I could do this with this deer, because the living spirit of this animal has not yet left its body.  If you watch closely, you might be able to see the spirit of the animal as it departs its body.”

Laylah frowned.  “I thought animals didn’t possess a spirit.”

“There are white trappers who have told me they believe this, also, and they are welcome to think this if they choose.  But, my tribe and all the tribes around us, even our enemies, know that all of creation is alive; all things are made up of the same rocks, stones and dirt of the earth and all are alive.  But, you must decide this matter for yourself.  Watch.”

Eagle Heart began to sing and pray over the animal as he usually did, and, taking some of the powder from the small bag he always wore around his neck, he sprinkled the yellow dust over the animal, the color of the dust catching hold of and reflecting the rays of the afternoon sun.

“Do you see it?” he asked in sign.  “Look for the aliveness of the animal rising up out of its body.  It is not physical, but if you pay close attention, you might see it because you, too, are spiritual.  Here comes the spirit as it rises out of its dead body.  Do you perceive that it follows the path of the dust I have sprinkled, its path guiding it up toward the sky and the Creator of all, Sun?”

Laylah had looked on and at first had seen nothing.  But then, glancing all around the animal, she became aware of something rising up and departing from the body of the animal.

Not really sure what she was looking at, she yet watched as an invisible something left this animal’s body—she even watched it as it followed the yellow path upward toward the sky.  With what must have been large eyes, she turned her head to stare at Eagle Heart.

She whispered, “I didn’t know animals had a soul.”

He signed, “Have you not now seen one leave the body of this poor deer?”

“I did see it.”

“We are all connected,” he told her in sign, bringing his two hands together, linking them as though in brotherhood.  “We all live and enjoy the thrill of life, and we all die.  All life must depend upon animal or plant life, or sometimes both, to become food so all may live.  Plants do the same, taking what they need from our Mother, the Earth.  All life must do the same as we do.  Simply because we must eat does not mean we must divorce ourselves from the life that is all around us and pretend it is not also alive and lives much the same as we do.”

Still feeling as if her eyes were mirroring her incredulity, she remarked, “Should I not eat meat, then?  Perhaps I should change my diet so I am eating no meat at all?”

“Do you ask this question because you think plants do not have a spirit that, like us, desires to live?”

“Of course a plant doesn’t have a spirit.  It is only a plant, after all.”

He smiled at her and reached out to take her hand in his, bringing it to his lips.  Then, releasing her hand, he signed, “Come, let us finish skinning this deer and putting its meat over the fire, and I will introduce you to the plants, for all things are connected and all things on this earth are alive.  And, if it is alive and if it is on this earth, it is, like us, spiritual. When the body dies, that which makes the plant or animal aware it lives, is released.  We of the Blackfoot Nation at least try to guide its spirit up to the sky and to Sun, the Creator.”

Laylah frowned.  Even though she had “seen” the spiritual entity leave its body and float upward, this was too new and too different a viewpoint for her to readily accept as true.  But, it did cause her to wonder if she had really been truly living before she’d met this man.  Wolves who, when asked, came to her aid; a deer as a spiritual being; the love of the Little People and now plants, too?  They, like human beings, were alive and possessed a spiritual quality about them?  She swallowed hard before asking, “What is the yellow dust you sprinkle over the animal?”

“Pollen.”

She nodded.

“Come,” he signed, “let us finish this task and then, if you will follow me, we should go and talk to the plants.”

And, Laylah did, indeed, help him finish the task, knowing they would do exactly as he said they might do.  And, before they sat down to enjoy their supper, she found herself silently conversing with the flowers that graced a beautiful and colorful meadow….

By the way, I love the picture to the right, taken by James Willard Schultz at the turn of the last century.  On the left in the picture is Black Bull and on the right is Stabs-by-mistake, both from the Pikuni Nation (the Blackfeet).  They are looking out upon Glacier National Park.

SHE STEALS MY BREATH

Amazon; 

tinyurl.com/4y6kdvaa

Barnes & Noble:

tinyurl.com/4anbp4az

ITunes: 

tinyurl.com/2w6f7epv

KOBO: 

tinyurl.com/pwa88n3v

Google:

tinyurl.com/mr2byszp

 

 

New Series Coming — The Medicine Men — E-book Giveaway

Howdy!

Welcome to another terribly terrific Tuesday.  Hope your weekend was good, and, if you’re on the East Coast, hope you are not slipping and sliding.  I think our yard is close to being a sheet of ice.  Perhaps I should just put on my ice skates and get out into that yard.

Soon…I was hoping by the end of Febraury, but it might be in March now, I’ll be releasing the first book in my new series, The Medicine Man series.  The book has been in editing, but am hoping we’ll get the editing done and will be able to release the book soon.  The title of the book is SHE STEALS MY BREATH.

And, since I am now writing about the medicine men, I thought I’d tell you a true story about a medicine man of the Nez Perce, as seen by the Nez Perce scout, Yellow Wolf, in his book, YELLOW WOLF, His Own Story.  As you probably already know, the Nez Perce were trying to reach Canada, where they hoped to be able to still live the free life.  They were chased all along the way by the US Cavalry.  Interestingly, General Howard always way over estimated how many warriors the Nez Perce had, which was really no more than about 75 warriors.  The rest were old men and women or women and children or young boys with no experience in fighting.

But, Yellow Wolf tells the following true story, having witnessed it first hand:

The Indians had thought the “war” was over because of the Lolo Peace Treaty they made with Montana citizens.  And so they lingered in their camp, unknowing that General Howard had contacted General Miles to find the Nez Perce and force them into battle.

The cavalry attacked early in the morning, killing men, women and children in their tepees who were still asleep., but mostly women and children, for the men were running about, trying to find the means to arm themselves.  They had truly thought the “war” was over and Yellow Wolf remembers awakening to the shooting and realizing he had left his guns in another lodge.  The story goes on to tell of the “battle,” and includes this fascinating story:

An old man was sitting in front of his tepee as the soldiers were raiding the camp and killing many of the women and children, old people and some warriors who were trying to shoot back, but who were greatly under armed.  Most had no guns by which to defend themselves.

Anyway, this man was sitting in front of his tepee, calmly smoking his pipe.  A group of soldiers — perhaps five or six — came by his lodge and began shooting him.  The man did not react, but instead continued to calmly smoke his pipe.

Other soldiers came and shot him, but still he didn’t die, but rather continued to sit and smoke his pipe.  Giving up, the soldiers left and others in the tribe came to help the old man.  They found him with about 20 gun shot wounds (none to his head) and from those shots, smoke was rising up out of them.  Yellow Wolf witnessed this.

They put the old man on a horse and took him to safety.  He did not die.  In fact, all 20 of the wounds healed without infection and without any trouble and he continued living for many years.  Only when he was taken from his home and forced onto a reservation far away, in Oklahoma, did he die.  And, then it is my belief that he might have died from a broken heart.

The medicine men rarely, if ever, shared the stories of their “medicine” or how they used it to bring about healing, but in this new book there are a couple of stories — highly fictionalized — that are yet based on true stories, some of them coming from the late 1800’s, but some of the stories I’ve learned are from the time period “before there were horses” on the plains.

A few weeks ago, I re-released the book, WHITE EAGLE’S TOUCH, the second book in The Blackfoot Warrior series.  Today, I’d like to offer that book in the e-book format to one of today’s bloggers.  So, please do leave your thoughts on this blog and story.

I’ve leave it here with the back blurb for WHITE EAGLE’S TOUCH.

Two worlds. Forbidden love.

Blackfoot Warrior, Book 2

Katrina Wellington is vexed. She must marry to obtain the rest of her inheritance. But her uncle, who left her in New York with a governess to make his fortune out West, has suddenly decided he must approve of her fiancé before he will loosen the purse strings to her dowry.

Swallowing her outrage, the socialite treks to the same wilderness that claimed her parents’ lives years ago. Some small part of her is crestfallen that her uncle is not waiting with open arms. Only three guides, Indian guides, await her, and one of them is far too handsome for his own good.

At first, White Eagle does not like the spoiled, willful niece of the white trader. When he catches a glimpse of the vulnerability behind her prickly exterior, he can’t resist challenging the dazzling beauty to rediscover her true inheritance—the inner strength bequeathed to her by her parents.

Close contact on the trail soon arouses a soul-stirring passion and in its turn, love. But love may not be enough to sustain a relationship that is forbidden in both their worlds.

This book is the 25th Year Anniversary Edition

Warning: Sensuous Romance that contains a captivating passion that could lead to a romantic evening spent in the company of one’s own love.

Link to buy:  https://tinyurl.com/vbanq3m

 

 

 

 

 

Goodies and Giveaways

I love fall. The cooler temperatures. The golden leaves. The pumpkin bread. The excuse to wear fuzzy sock and fleece pajama pants. I also love grabbing a cup of hot tea, wrapping up in a blanket, and snuggling up with a good book.

Readers often ask me which hero is my favorite of all the books I have written. The question is nearly impossible to answer. However, when push comes to shove, the hero who gets the slightest edge is Levi Grant from To Win Her Heart. Maybe it’s because he’s a big, burly blacksmith who loves to read. Or maybe it’s because he’s a reformed bad boy who has a thing for the local librarian. Or maybe it’s because he’s the kind of man who takes pity on scraggly mutts and social outcasts. Or maybe it’s because he challenged me as an author with the lisp he was determined to hide by never speaking a word with the “s” sound. I’ve never worked so hard on a character’s dialogue!

Why am I talking about Levi Grant? Well, his story is on sale this month. To Win Her Heart hasn’t been promo-priced for several years, so I’m excited to offer the e-book version to you for only $1.99 (or less). Amazon and Christianbook have it for only $1.59. WooHoo!

Amazon | Christianbook | Barnes & Noble

Not only is this a great time of year for cozying up by yourself with a great book, but it’s also a great time for gathering with friends and family. And if you enjoy meeting up with fellow book nerds with a chance to win new reads, I have a virtual gathering that might be just your cup of tea.

Whispers in Wyoming is a FB group hosted by a group of sweet western romance authors whose stories are set in Wyoming. Every year they host a giant Christmas Extravaganza where they bring in guest authors to post throughout the 3-day event. There are 45 authors participating this year, many of whom have been guests here at P&P. Each participating author will give away individual prizes to readers who comment on her posts. In addition, 4 grand prize winners will receive $100 Amazon gift cards. Just in time for Christmas! I will be participating on Saturday, December 4 between 1-4pm and will be giving away an audiobook copy of Under the Texas Mistletoe along with a few other goodies.

If you are interested in participating, you will need to join the Whispers in Wyoming Facebook group before December 2. Then pop in several times during the event and comment on the posts to be entered to win the individual prizes. There will be a link to the main giveaway contest on the site as well. I’d love to see you on the afternoon of the 4th!

What are some of your favorite fall activities?

BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER — Another Excerpt and Give-Away

Howdy!

Welcome to another terrific Tuesday!  Hope y’all are doing well today.

I’ll be giving away a free e-book of BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER today.  You only have to leave a thought on the post in order to enter into the drawing.

And I thought I’d leave you with another excerpt from the book.  Hope you’ll enjoy it!

BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER Excerpt

by

Karen Kay

PROLOGUE

Summer, 1879

The Season of Festivals

The Forks of the Big and Little Piney Creeks

Wyoming

 

As he stood within the great circle of the many camps, the boy, Maká Cí?ala, Little Skunk, squared his shoulders and raised his head, ready to receive the honors that were due him.  As was tradition, all the tribes of the Lakota people were gathered together for the summer races, games and festivals.  Although it was only midday, all of his family surrounded him in the center of the circle, and, as was also tradition, his band’s highest chief, Kicízapi Wa?té, Good Fight, held the two eagle feathers that Little Skunk was to receive.

Little Skunk was proud both of himself and his nation, the ?kpap?a, which he represented.  Although he was only twelve winters old, he was already acting as a man—he’d been a scout for several of the war parties this summer and had brought many honors to his family.  But this…  This was an accomplishment a boy of his age had never before won: for the past two days, he had competed with adults in his tribe’s foot races, and he’d won every event.

It was a bright day, and a warm one, with the afternoon sun shining upon him as though to touch him with the care and respect of a father.  He felt the tender sunlight on the top of his head and shoulders, and he held his head high.  Then, the drums began to beat, and the singers commenced to chant the honoring song.

Holding up the two feathers to the wind, the chief, Kicízapi Wa?té, said, “Today, Maká Cí?ala becomes a man.  He has gained the highest achievement in our foot races, and, because he has bested even the greatest men amongst us, he has won the right to earn himself a new name.  In honor of this great occasion, Maká Cí?ala’s grandfather, Waki?ya? Paza Tosa?, Blue Thunder Striking, has given his name to his grandson, who shall bear his name with great honor.”

The old chief paused as Little Skunk’s mother stepped forward to offer the chief a newly-made blanket, which the chief accepted.  He nodded and, opening the blanket, threw it around Little Skunk’s shoulders before offering the two eagle feathers to him.  “Blue Thunder Striking,” the chief said, “we of the ?kpap?a know that, from this day forward, we will look to you for many good deeds.  I give you these feathers to forever tell of your accomplishments.”  The old chief smiled at Little Skunk, then said in closing, “The honoring ceremony is now done.”

Blue Thunder’s mother and aunties stepped forward to give him the hand-stitched quilts that had been several months in the making.  Blue Thunder smiled and accepted the many gifts from them.  Traditionally, these blankets were not his to keep; rather, he was to give them to the people to honor his deeds this summer.  Stepping lively toward the side of the circle where people were sitting, he paced around it, offering the gifts to as many people as he could reach until all but one of the gifts was left.  This present was special, for he had made it himself.  This gift was for her.

Ci?cá Wací, Dancing Child, was about two winters younger than he.  But, though the distance between their ages might have been great for their young hearts, Blue Thunder couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t loved her.

Her mother came from the Brulé band of the Lakota.  However, because her mother didn’t live with the Brulé, he saw Ci?cá Wací only during the summer when she was visiting her grandmother.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her.  He had been seven winters that summer and she, five, and he remembered it as a great occasion, for her grandmother had made a miniature lodge and given it to Ci?cá Wací:

 

She had invited him to play with her in the miniature tepee, and he’d accepted his role in her game as being her pretend husband.  That day, as soon as he’d ducked down to enter the lodge, he had seen that she had placed two different dolls upon small, buckskin blankets within the little tepee.

She had cautioned him to remain silent, since the dolls were “sleeping.”  Then, she’d gone to the women’s side of the tepee and had made a “soup” consisting of water and berries which she had served him in a large turtle shell.  From her tanned skin to her nearly-black eyes and the two dark-haired braids which fell down her back, she had captivated him, and his young heart had rejoiced.

They had played then, pretending to be married, and had continued their game into the coming days of summer.  Indeed, at summer’s close, he had begun to think of her as his wife in reality.  And, on that late summer day when she had told him she was to leave the next day, he had been so distressed, he’d said to her, “Since you are my wife, I would like to give you a gift before you go.”

She giggled and looked away.

“Well, what do you say?”

She stared up at him, her black eyes round and big, and smiled at him.  “I would like that.”

He didn’t know what to give her and, in the end, handed her the only possession that was truly his—a single strand of white deerskin with an image of a lone, blue prairie flower upon it.  He had, himself, painted the picture of the flower on the slender string.

Taking hold of the deerskin from her, he tied it as a necklace at the back of her neck, then said, “It is yours now.  I will never ask for it back.”

As she smoothed her hand over the necklace, she said, “I will love this and treasure it all my life.”

“Wa?cá Skúya, Sweet Flower; it is your new name in honor of this gift.  I give it to you.  It is a good name and is a better name than Dancing Child.  Tell your people.  It is your new name.”

“You give me great honor, and I will tell my people.”

From that day forward he had addressed her as Sweet Flower.  That her own people had still called her Dancing Child hadn’t caused him any worry, for he’d always known someday he would make her his wife, and, when that day came, she would become known as Sweet Flower.

 

At last, he found her in the crowd of people and, stepping near her, grinned at her.

She smiled while looking down, then said, “I am very proud of you.”

He laughed.  “As well you should be.”

Once again, she smiled.

Taking her hand in his, he led her toward the side of the crowd, out of view from most of the people.  As soon as they reached a private spot, he turned to her and said, “I have a special gift for you.”

Her smile widened, and she looked down as a proper, young Lakota maiden was expected to do, her demeanor shy.

“Hold out your hand,” he said, reaching into a bag and extracting something from it.

She did so, and he placed two strings of blue, white and pink-beaded earrings in her hand.

“For me?”

Hau, hau.  There is a woman from the Oglala tribe who makes the owi?la like these.  When I saw the earrings she was creating, I knew I had to make a pair for you.  She taught me how to do it.”

“They are very beautiful, and I love them,” she said. “I will always love them because they are so pretty and because you made them for me.  But, since I thought you might win today, I made something special for you, too.  If we go to my lodge, I will show you what I crafted for you this day.”

Hau, hau,” he said.  Then, because a man must always lead a girl and never walk behind her, he added, “Follow me.”

She did as he instructed.  As soon as they entered her little tepee, she stepped to the back of the lodge, and, turning so she faced him, she presented him with a recently-picked bouquet of flowers.  They were prairie violets and were very pretty.

As was the Indian way, she stared down at the floor of the tepee, which was little more than grass and dirt.  When he took the flowers from her and their hands touched, he felt so good inside, he knew he would love Sweet Flower always.

He said, “Have you any water, for I would keep them alive so they will always remind me of you.”

She laughed, then said, “I do have water, and it is in a pouch.  It will be perfect for them.  I give you not only the flowers, but my own parfleche bag.”  She giggled a little and looked away from him.

Carefully, he placed a finger under her chin and turned her face toward his own.  “Tell me, when we get older, will you marry me?”

Still not looking up at him, she said, “I will, if you would still want me to.”

He brought her chin up so she was forced to look into his eyes and said, “I will always want you to be my wife, for I would spend my life with you.  You are first in my heart, and I swear it will always be so.”

Ha?, ha?. I feel the same as you.”

He grinned at her. “Then let us commit ourselves to one another.  I wish we could marry now, but we are still too young.  Our parents would never allow it.”

“I know what we might do.”

“Hmm…”  He frowned.

“Let us tattoo one another with our own design,” she suggested.  “In this way we will always know we belong together.”

“This is a fine idea.”  He smiled.

She grinned back at him, then said, “I have a sharp bone that I use for sewing.  My grandmother gave it to me.  We might use it to prick our skin.”

“This is good,” he replied.  “And the violets you have given me will make a blue color for the tattoo.  But what design should we make?”

She shook her head.

“It should be simple, perhaps four small dots,” he said.  “One dot would show that we are of one mind; another could say we are of one heart.  The third dot might be one to indicate we will be of one body when we are older, and the fourth dot should be to signify that we have met soul to soul.”

She laughed and said, “What you say is pleasing to me.”

“Do you agree?”

“Oh yes,” she laughed.  “Always I will love you.”

“And I, you.”

“Stay here,” she said, “while I go to my grandmother and ask her to give me the sharp bone I use to sew.”

“I will.  But where should we put the tattoo?”

“Perhaps on the neck?”

“Maybe.  But, wherever we decide it should be, it must be in a place on our bodies that will be hard for others to see, for it is to be our secret…at least until we marry.”

Ha?.”

“I know where we could put it: we will place this tattoo on the upper back, close to and within the hairline, so it will not be seen by others.  Yours will be on the right side, and mine will be on the left.”

She smiled up at him shyly.  “I will go at once to my grandmother and ask for my sharpened bone.  Will you wait here for me?”

Hau, I will.”  He looked at her longingly.  “I would wait a lifetime for you.”

She giggled and bent to leave the little lodge to run to her grandmother’s tepee.  Soon, she returned with the prized bone she used for sewing.

As the afternoon turned to evening, they etched their tattoos onto each other, the small dots hidden by their hairlines.  When, at last, it was done, he reached out to take her hand in his own.

“It is done,” he said.  “We are married now, and someday soon we will be old enough to live together so others will know we two are of one heart.”

Shyly, she smiled at him and said, “Ha?, it is done, and I am glad of it.  With all my heart, I will always love you.”

 

BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER is now on sale at Google Play for 20% off with the coupon:  GUGZUW22LH4U1

BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER:  Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/4k6ahyfr

KOBO: https://tinyurl.com/3abxfuh

B & N: https://tinyurl.com/exadvx7n

Google:  https://tinyurl.com/uavkxz4

ITUNES: https://tinyurl.com/w2z7adxk

The Spirit of the Wolf on sale and E-book Giveaway

 

Good Morning!

Happy Tuesday!  Before I get into the blog today, would like y’all to know that THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF and also RED HAWK’S WOMAN are on sale for $.99 cents for a short time.  THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF is #2 in the series The Lost Clan and RED HAWK’S WOMAN is #3.

It’s a series of four books and each is related, but is a stand alone book.

THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF was a book written around and about the 200th year anniversary of the Lewis and Clark exposition.  And so, in honor of that exposition, I wrote a little about the game played at that time on all the Plains and by every tribe on the Plains — the game of Cos-coo, a game of chance and a game of war.

Sacagawea was won by the French trapper and trader, Charbonneau in a game of chance.  Charbonneau had been playing the game with a man who had five (I believe) wives.  Sacagawea was his youngest wife.  Interesting how this game of chance was to influence events that helped to found our country, isn’t it?

Cos-soo is a game played only by the men and it is played sometimes within one’s own tribe, but mostly it is played by men from enemy tribes.  It is a game of war.  No one is killed.  However, once embarked upon, the game is played until one or the other of the players is ruined utterly.  It can go on for days, breaking only to eat (not to sleep).  And, unless agreed upon before the game is begun, it is played until one player loses everything:  his lodge, his horses, his gun, his knives, his clothes and even his WIFE.  This is what happened in the life of Sacagawea.

And so, let me leave you with an excerpt from the book where the two players (one is the hero of the story) is playing in a desperate game of Cos-soo.

THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF

by

Karen Kay

The end of a curse hides behind a riddle—and the final clue in the heart of a woman.

The Lost Clan, Book 2

Grey Coyote stands on the knife edge of desperation. An ancient curse dooms his people to a half-life in the mists, neither living nor dead—unless he can solve a deceptively simple riddle. As time runs short, he’s sure the answer lies in beating a white trapper in a game of chance.

Among the trapper’s possessions, though, is a prize he never expected: A golden-haired woman as beautiful, delicate and stubborn as a prairie rose.

One moment Marietta Welsford is wondering how long it will take her hired guide to finish his game so she can hurry home to Rosemead, the English estate to which she hopes to lay claim. The next, she is abandoned with a man whose magnetism tugs at her body and soul, and makes her heart out-thunder the storm.

With so little time to lift the enchantment, Grey Coyote at first views Marietta as a trickster-sent distraction. But as sure as the star that guides him, it soon becomes clear she is the clue that could ultimately free his people…and capture his heart.

EXCERPT:

THE GAME OF Cos-soo

Cos-soo, sometimes called the game of the Bowl, was a common game known to the Indians on the plains—all tribes. A game of chance, it was played only by men, and the stakes were often desperate.

The rules of Cos-soo were as follows: Players used a wooden bowl slightly less than a foot long, highly polished with a rim of about two inches. The “dice” were not dice as we might think of them, but were instead common objects on the plains at this time. These small objects were assigned certain values.

The highest value went to the large crow’s claw—there was only one per game—which was painted red on one side and black on the other. When after a throw it was standing, it counted for twenty-five points (or sticks). The count was kept by sticks. It also counted for five on its side if the red side was up—and so a total of thirty points would go to the large claw, if it were standing. No points were given if the black side was up. If it wasn’t standing, it counted for only five.

Next were four small crow’s claws, also painted red on one side and black on the other. They counted for five if landed on the red side, and nothing if on the black.

Next there were five plum stones. These were white on one side and black on the other. If the black side was up, it counted four; if the white side was up, it counted for nothing.

Then there were five pieces of blue china—they were small and round. Blue side up was worth three points; white side counted as nothing.

Farther down the line were five buttons. The eye side up counted for two each, the smooth side for nothing.

And last there were five brass tack heads. The sunken side counted for one, the raised side as nothing.

Each man kept his opponent’s score, not his own, by means of handing his opponent a number of sticks equal to his throw. The sticks were kept in view so that all could see them. In the early 1800s Edwin Thompson Denig (a trader married to an Assiniboine woman) noted: “It has been observed in these pages in reference to their gambling that it is much fairer in its nature than the same as carried on by the whites and this is worthy of attention, inasmuch as it shows how the loser is propitiated so that the game may not result in quarrel or bloodshed…”

The game was often kept up for forty-eight to seventy-two hours without a break except for meals. And it was usually played until one or the other of the players was ruined totally.

Horses, guns, weapons, clothing and women were all stakes in these games. Again, Edwin Thompson Denig observed, “We have known Indians to lose everything—horses, dogs, cooking utensils, lodge, wife, even to his wearing apparel…”

 

CHAPTER TWO

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.


Well, that’s all for today.  Please do leave a comment.  That’s all you need to do to enter into the drawing for a free e-book of your choice.  I look forward to hearing from y’all.

https://tinyurl.com/svyqbxt

Cover Reveal & Book Sale

Seeing a cover for the first time is a nerve-wracking mix of excitement and terror. As much as we say we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, we all do. The cover is one of the biggest marketing tools an author has. This single picture needs to speak 1000 words to the prospective reader. It needs to convey time period and setting. It should hint at key story elements as well as project emotion. Most of all, it should please or intrigue the reader enough to prod them to learn more. To pick it up and read the back cover or make that click that takes them inside for a sample.

Covers for novella collections are especially tricky since they must convey details from more than one story. Different characters. Different settings. Even different time periods. Because of that, novella covers usually focus on creating a more general mood than honing in on specific details, thereby creating an image that would apply to any of the stories contained within.

My latest cover is just such a project. Three novellas whose common ground consists of four things: Historical time periods, Texas settings, Christmas themes, and romance. So while the scene depicted does not relate directly to any of the three stories, it conveys those four commonalities to perfection.

The long skirt and beautifully knotted updo on the model combined with the wrap-around porch commonly found in 19th century homes immediately places us in the historical time frame. The serif fonts and swirled design around the subtitle and name also give it a Victorian feel. The rugged landscape combined with the cowboy riding home in the distance hints strongly at Texas. Then there are the beautiful Christmas touches of garlands wrapped around the porch railings and the bold red pop of color in the heroine’s dress combined with the green subtitle bar. Finally, the romance. What says romance more than mistletoe? And having it dangling right above the heroine’s head as she leans forward, eager for the hero’s return makes it clear that love is in the air.

Under the Texas Mistletoe will release this fall.

What element of this cover is most inviting to you?

Book Sale

Grab some Valentine’s chocolate and treat yourself to some classic romance, Archer style. The book that started it all – Short Straw Bride – is on sale for only $1.99 until February 17.

If you already own a copy of Travis and Meredith’s story, consider sharing a little romance with your favorite “gal”entine by surprising her with a gift copy. All you need is an email address to share the love.

Grab a copy from your favorite e-book retailer.

Amazon | Christianbook | Barnes & Noble

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Most of my books are now on SALE! AND Free e-book Give-away

Howdy!

Hope y’all are doing well in this weird world.  Who would’ve ever thought the entire world would shut down?  All I can say is that I hope y’all are surviving well in this time period and that when it’s over, you’ll go on to do even better than before.

Almost from the start of this, I started putting a few of my books on sale.  Many have gone from $5,99 to .99 cents.  ALL of my paperback books have gone from (we started this about 2 months ago) $14.99 to $9.99.  My newest book, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME, will be put on sale soon — we just uploaded it to Amazon and it’s going to their editing at the moment.  But, when it comes on, it will NOT be put on sale at $14,99, but rather at $9.99.

In truth, the reason I started doing this right from the beginning is that often when one is frightened or bored or uncertain, a romance book can raise them up a little and often put a smile on their face.  So, here we go.  This is a list of the books that are on sale for .99 cents right now or read for free on KindleUnlimited:

So the books on sale for .99 cents are:  Gray Hawk’s Lady; White Eagle’s Touch; Night Thunder’s Bride; War Cloud’s Passion; Lone Arrow’s Pride; Soaring Eagle’s Embrace; Wolf Shadow’s Promise; The Angel and the Warrior; The Spirit of the Wolf; Red Hawk’s Woman and The Last Warrior; Black Eagle; Seneca Surrender

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All of these books (except for Lakota Surrender) are priced at .99 cents or can be read for free on Kindle Unlimited.  The book, LAKOTA SURRENDER is on sale for $3.99.  This is a special edition, newly edited book that is the 25th Anniversary Edition of that book.

As I said all of my books that are in paperback are also on sale for $9.99.  They used to sell at $14.99, but we’re trying to reduce those prices as much as we can so that if you read only paperback books, you’ll also have a sale.  These paperback books on sale for $9.99 are:  Lakota Surrender; The Angel and the Warrior; The Spirit of the Wolf; Red Hawk’s Woman; The Last Warrior; Seneca Surrender; The Princess and the Wolf; and Brave Wolf and the Lady.  Lakota Surrender is also on sale in e-book for $3.99.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So if there are any of these books that you haven’t read, now might be the time to pick one up.

But my blogs wouldn’t really be a blog if I didn’t give away at least one book for free.  And so, today, I’m giving away an e-book of my latest release, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME, to one of today’s bloggers.

On another note, I’m wondering how y’all are doing during this time period.  Are you reading a lot?  Doing gardening?  Cleaning the house?  Doing all those little things in the yard or around the house that we seldom have time to do?

Would love to hear how you’re doing during this time period and any suggestions you might pass along to the rest of us as to how to keep in touch with others in this time of enforced social distancing.  We, as people, i think thrive on our associations with others, our conversations, talking back and forth, sharing jokes and sharing even our heartbreaks.  If you’d like to share things you’re doing, how you’re doing, I’d love to hear it.

May we all come out of this time period a little wiser, a little more aware and a little bit better off for the experience.  Remember that this, too, will pass.

The Eagle and the Flame: https://tinyurl.com/w49evpb

 

Game Day with Karen!

I love playing games, and word games are especially fun. So for our Game Day this month, I thought we could enjoy some word play.

But first, we need a theme. I just so happen to have some inspiration.

Short-Straw Bride, the first book in my Archer Brothers series and consistent reader favorite, is on sale through March 31 for only $0.99 ($0.79 in some places).

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook

No one steps on Archer land. Not if they value their life. But when Meredith Hayes overhears a lethal plot to burn the Archer brothers off their ranch, a twelve-year-old debt compels her to take the risk.

So now that we have our theme – Western Romance – let’s play our game!

Wild West Acrostics!

To play, select one of the three words below from the featured book title:

SHORT          STRAW          BRIDE

Create a string of words that start with each of the five letters in your word to describe what you love about reading western romance. I’ve given you some examples below. You don’t have to use all three words like I did. Just one will do it.

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Leave your acrostic in the comments below.
My favorite will win a $10 Amazon gift card!

Have fun . . . and don’t forget to grab your copy of Short-Straw Bride!

Cover Reveal, Free Gift, & Valentine Sale

Happy Valentine’s Week!!
The time for romance, gifts, and love stories.

One of my favorite experiences as an author is seeing my cover for the first time. It’s terrifying and exciting all rolled into one. Such anticipation! Well, I’m excited to reveal my next cover. Talk about romantic! The designers did such a fabulous job giving this cover an incredibly unique yet timelessly romantic feel.

The Kissing Tree is a novella collection by Karen Witemeyer, Regina Jennings, Nicole Deese and Amanda Dykes that spans roughly 150 years. Each of the four stories takes place in Oak Springs, Texas, centering around a particular sprawling live oak whose trunk and branches have been carved over the centuries with couples’ initials. It is the keeper of a thousand stories, and this book showcases four of them: one in the mid-1800’s, one in the late-1800’s, one during World War II, and one in present day. It releases this fall, and should be up for pre-order in just a few short weeks!

The tree we used as a model for our Kissing Tree is a real tree with it’s own romantic heritage on the Texas A&M university campus. The Century Tree. Isn’t it gorgeous? This tree is the site of many a romantic marriage proposal to this day.

Our Free Gift to You

We loved what the Bethany House designers did with the cover, and they were so kind to work with us to cook up these beautiful designs for you to use as either a wallpaper for your phone or a background image for your computer. They utilized many of those lovely cover elements—the embossed backgrounds, those lush leaves, and a Bible verse that encompasses the deepest love of all. A reminder that you are beloved and cherished!

Use these links below and the download button you’ll see near the top of the screen to claim your free gift:

Phone background/wallpaper: https://tinyurl.com/w55addw

Computer desktop background: https://tinyurl.com/tnkerxt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sale Price on Another Great Valentine Read

Since The Kissing Tree won’t be available until fall, I thought I would offer another sweet, western romance read for your Valentine reading pleasure. The first book in my Patchwork Family series, More Than Meets the Eye (ebook) is on sale for only $0.99 starting today! Love, adventure, cowboys, and a pet hog. What could be more fun?

When her family is threatened, falling in love may be her best defense.

“More Than Meets the Eye captured my heart from the start. This story is easily the best Inspirational romance I have read in years, if not the best Inspirational romance I have ever read.”  ~ All About Romance

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook

If you were to give yourself a gift for Valentine’s Day this year, what would choose?