New Young Adult Novella, OUR ENEMY BRINGS CHANGE and Giveaway

Howdy!

Welcome to a new and beautiful Tuesday!  I hope you and yours are doing wonderfully on this bright day in September (it’s supposed to be sunny here where I live).

My goodness, but there is lots going on these last few months with three new books (two of them novellas) and four of my backlist books being reissued by my new Publisher, OHB.

This newly released book is book #3 in The Untamed Frontier Series and is entitled, OUR ENEMY BRINGS CHANGE.  It is a Young Adult Book.  Also, on the 15th of September, the last book in The Lost Clan Series, book #4 in the series, THE LAST WARRIOR releases.

And so, let me begin with the newest release, OUR ENEMY BRINGS CHANGE and tell you a little about the book.  Now, I write these Young Adult books under the pen name of Genny Cothern.  Below and off to the left is the new cover for the book.

There’s a lot I like about this new cover for the book.  First, I think it is one of the most beautiful covers I’ve ever had.  Second, I love that the Montana landscape, as well as the Blackfeet encampment are so beautifully depicted.  The cliffs, the mountains in the background are what you might see if you were to go to Montana today.  And then there’s the way he’s dressed…his clothing looks quite authentic.

So let me post a blurb of the book and then an excerpt:

Our Enemy Brings Change

A spellbinding and sweet Native American historical romance for Young Adults featuring two people who are friends, but who must not fall in love with each other.

What Will Happen When We Give Our Enemy His Life?

When Starling Nelson begs Good Eagle—her best friend and partner— to spare the life of an enemy, little does she know how this one single action might affect her life. For a year now, Starling has realized her friendship with Good Eagle has blossomed into love. But, because Good Eagle’s heart belongs to another, she has learned to ignore the rapid beating of her own heart whenever Good Eagle is near.

Good Eagle finishes the fight the young Nez Perce warrior started and grants the warrior his life, but only because his partner, Starling, insists upon it. But when the Nez Perce warrior offers a piece of advice to Good Eagle, it has the effect of changing not only Good Eagle’s mind-set about love, it might very well change his life forever.

But, there are doubts about a happy ever after for Good Eagle and Starling, because, though Good Eagle’s past love is no longer alive, in spirit she still haunts him.

Can Good Eagle and Starling win against the supernatural? Or will this one chance at love fail, separating them forever?

Perfect for Readers who love

** A haunted hero and a beautiful “off limits” friend

** Sweet Native American Historical Romance

** Adventure and sweet love in the Old West

** Friends who believe love might destroy their honor

And now for an excerpt of the book:

OUR ENEMY BRINGS CHANGE

By

Karen Kay writing as Genny Cothern

CHAPTER ONE

Indian Territory

The Moon of Flowers, Summer

1849

“Saa, no, please do not kill him!” cried out my partner, Kills-the-bear-woman, I’nit kiááyo aakíí, or for short, Kiayo’aki, Bear Woman. She reached out toward me where I was sitting on my horse and placed her hand upon my shooting arm, but I didn’t look at her or at her hand. I dared not take my attention off of my enemy.

At a distance only a horse trot away, the man had, just a moment before, stepped out from a forest of pines. He hadn’t yet seen us. But, I knew at once he was an enemy warrior, but from what tribe was he? I did not recognize the manner in which he wore his hair, nor the pattern of the bead work upon his clothing and leggings.

I prepared myself for battle, and, as I did so, I felt the blood rush through my body, giving me strength.

“Do you know what tribe he is?” Kiayo’aki asked me.

“No.” Quickly I made the sign for the word, but I did not look at her. I had eyes only for my enemy.

In less time than it takes to observe it, I saw the sun was still rising up toward its zenith, and thoughts flashed through my mind in rapid succession. Kiayo’aki and I had left Fort Benton in the darkness of the early hours, I being her partner, but I was also responsible for her safety, she being my almost-sister and younger than I. On the previous evening, we had decided to journey to the Upper Two Medicine Lake this day in search of a better hunting ground.

Niitá’p, the game close to the fort was gone for now, hunted out. And, this being so, we had decided to travel farther away, toward one of my tribe’s favorite camping spots, the Two Medicine. We had last night decided we would even journey into the Backbone-of-the-world Mountains (the Rockies). But, only if we had to.

Luckily, it was unnecessary. Our decision to come closer to the Two Medicine area had been a good one, and we had been in the act following the trail of several buffalo when out from the forest, stepped this man, who was only now discovering the two of us. I watched as he quickly drew his bow and an arrow from his quiver and placed the arrow in a position to shoot. I raised my gun and sighted him.

“Almost-brother, I beg you, do not kill him.”

“Are you mad?” I practically shouted the words at her in reaction. “If I do not kill him, he will surely murder us both. While I do not care if he kills me, I care about what he might do to you!”

“Please! Do not kill him!” she begged me again. “Have mercy! Why, he looks to be the same age as we are. Truly, he is too young to die.”

She was right of course. But, her words faded into nothing when the chance to give the youth quarter faded. The young man was afoot, while both Kiayo’aki and I were mounted upon our ponies. Because the youth was clearly at a disadvantage—and perhaps it was because of this—the young man shot off a deadly arrow directly at me.

The shot missed me, and, seeing this, my enemy began to sing the strange melody of a song, perhaps his death song, as he quickly drew out another arrow in preparation.

However, my response to the coming fight was not my concern over the fight ahead of me, but rather, it was one of worry for my partner, and I shouted at Kiayo’aki, “You are to go back to camp at once and tell your uncle what has happened here.”

She didn’t answer.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” she answered back, her voice loud to my ears. “But I will not go there. It would take me too long to get there even at a run. And, by the time I would be able to return here, either you or the young enemy would be dead. No, I think I will stay here with you.”

I didn’t respond to her nor to the enemy…at least not right away. I pushed my rifle into position to get the best shot at the young man, and slowly I walked my pony forward. The youth, however, didn’t wait. Quickly, he set another arrow into position and was about to shoot when I pulled the trigger of my musket, my aim being to wound the young warrior in his shooting arm. In this way, I would not kill the youth, but he would also not be able to take another shot at me or my partner.

(Original Caption) Glacier National Park, MO: “On the Shore of Two Medicine Lake.” Blackfoot Indians

Looking forward, I could see the ball sail straight into my enemy’s right arm, and, at the same time, I beheld the enemy youth fall down to his knees.

While observing all this, I listened as my partner muttered, “Thank you, Good Eagle, for not killing him.”

I didn’t answer her.

I watched as the enemy’s arm fell useless at his side and his bow, along with its arrow, dropped to the ground. But, this youth was not a coward, and, with his other arm, he pulled his knife out from the belt around his waist. Then, though he was still on bended knees, he waited for what he probably thought would be the death blow from me.

Immediately, because a musket can only fire one shot, I grabbed hold of my own bow from its case upon my back and, just as swiftly, fitted an arrowto it. I didn’t let the arrow fly. It was there, instead, as a threat as I continued to slowly walk my pony toward this foe.

“Please, do not kill him!” Kiayo’aki cried out again.

“He started it!” I shouted back at her. Still, I knew I would not kill this warrior if I could avoid it. And, this was because I respected my partner’s wishes probably more than my own life. “Besides,” I added, “he has drawn his knife and intends to kill me.”

“But we are two and he is only one. Perhaps we have only frightened him, and this has caused him to draw his knife.”

I didn’t answer. My attention was on the coming fight.

Still, by my actions, I hoped to give the youth the impression that I would show him mercy. Niitá’p, though my actions were not swift as I jumped down from my seat upon my pony, the youth suddenly fell forward and lay there upon the ground as though he were dead.

Meanwhile, I stepped toward the young man, pointing my arrow straight at this enemy while I paced toward him. Coming down onto my knees beside the man, I turned him over and examined first the enemy’s chest to ensure he was still alive and breathing, and then I looked at his wound.

Kiayo’aki had followed me and was the first to speak, and she said, “He is still alive. But, he is hurt. I believe he has only fainted. And, I think his arm is broken. Come, help me to wash his wound and dress it and then assist me to take him back to camp. Please have pity upon him and let him live, I beg you.”

“As you ask, so will I do and he shall live,” said I.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Well I hope you enjoyed the excerpt.

Here is the link to the book on Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HG88KVRV?tag=pettpist-20

And now for even more news:

The last book in The Lost Clan Series will be releasing soon, next Tuesday.  Below is the cover of this fourth and last book in this series, THE LAST WARRIOR.  This book is on a Presale and you can pick up your copy of it here:  https://www.amazon.com/Last-Warrior-Lost-Clan-Book-ebook/dp/B0H7TD5VR7/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&sr=1-1&tag=pettpist-20

Also, I am looking for reviewers.  if you would like to review either of these books, please let me know in the comments.

Well that’s all for today.  Hope you have a beautiful and wonderful day today and for the rest of the week, also.  Don’t forget to leave a comment.  I’ll be giving away a free e-book of OUR ENEMY BRINGS CHANGE to one of the bloggers here today.

250th Year Anniversary of our Country Book, FREEING MISS ABAGAIL — And a Surprise

  • Howdy!  Welcome, Welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

As many of you already know, the Pettocoats & Patriots books have now launched!  Yay!  My book, #2 in the series, Freeing Miss Abagail, launched on the 23rd of June.  Yay!  So, I thought I’d post links to both of the terrific newsletters — given to us by wonderful Shanna Hatfield — which will give you not only excerpts of each book, but is filled with games and bits of information you might not be able to find elsewhere.

Here is a link to the Petticoats & Pistols Magazine #2:  https://sfo2.digitaloceanspaces.com/assets-shanna/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/Patriot-Magazine-2-digital.pdf

And here is the link to magtzine #1:  https://petticoatsandpistols.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/Petticoats-Patriots-Magazine-Volume-1-2026.pdf

Don’t miss the fun!  There are interviews, excerpts, games (many games), recipes and more!

And for those of you who would like a hard copy of the first magazine, it is for sale at Lulu:  https://www.lulu.com/shop/shanna-hatfield-and-karen-kay-and-kit-morgan-and-sarah-lamb/petticoats-patriots-volume-1/paperback/product-65k4g8k.html?page=1&pageSize=4

So, here are the eight books in this series:

Book 1

She never intended to become a spy … or fall for one.

Philadelphia, 1776

As whispers of revolution turn swell into a roar for freedom, Lucy Carlson is no longer content to simply watch from behind the counter of her father’s jewelry shop. When a mysterious woman—none other than Martha Washington—leaves behind a locket, Lucy discovers the piece is more than a pretty keepsake. The necklace is a secret vessel for the revolution that carries the promise of love.

Drawn into a dangerous spy ring, Lucy begins crafting coded messages concealed within the locket’s clever design, living a secret double life and risking everything she holds dear in a time of sacrifice and war.

Continental soldier Branch Barton is a man defined by duty. Tasked with rooting out traitors, he moves through the shadowed world of deception and divided loyalties. He’s trained to trust no one, yet he finds himself drawn into a slow-burning connection with the jeweler’s spirited daughter.

But when Lucy begins to suspect Branch may be a Redcoat in disguise, their fragile bond is tested by mistaken identity, growing mistrust, and the threat of betrayal.

In a war where even allies can become enemies, Lucy and Branch must navigate a world of hidden truths and guarded hearts. With the fate of the colonies—and their hearts—hanging in the balance as Lucy delivers a message in enemy territory, will they find the courage to trust each other and choose love?

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 2

Two hearts. Two worlds. Can love be the key to free the woman he loves?

Saratoga, 1777

Nineteen year old Indentured Servant, Abagail Densbury, is running for her life. Accused of stealing a necklace she didn’t take, and facing a beating that could claim her life, she has no choice but to take this one chance to run away, especially when Mr. Wilson, the proprietor of the Saratoga Inn, has told her “to get.” But Abagail has spent her life on the city streets of London, and she is a stranger to the forests of New York. Still, she might have survived on her own, if only Miss Stockenridge hadn’t sent the hounds after her.

Twenty-four year old Skenandoah is an Oneida Indian and a scout for the Patriots. When Mr. Wilson asks Skenan to help a girl to survive through the forests and to reach Fort Stanwix, Skenan doesn’t hesitate to act. What he didn’t count on is that the girl, though dressed in rags, is as beautiful as she is sweet and brave.

Closeness on the trail unites their hearts. But, when a coded message is found in a locket in Abagail’s apron, both Skenan and Abagail know they must reach Fort Stanwix as quickly as possible, even though it means they will be forced to part—she back to her world and he to his.

But, since the Patriots are fighting to throw off the chains of the English Father, is there a way Shenan can make them see that the woman he loves should be free, too?

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 3

In a house filled with British officers, colonial spies, and dangerous secrets, falling in love may be the most reckless act of all.

Long Island, 1778

Anna Turner serves quietly at Pembrooke House, hiding her patriot loyalties beneath the careful routine of a household maid. But when cheerful messenger Nathaniel Reed begins delivering private correspondence to the British captain residing there, Anna becomes convinced he’s the enemy.

Nate, however, is hiding secrets of his own.

As two rival spy rings unknowingly move information through the same household, suspicion turns to uneasy partnership—and then something far more dangerous. Because in a city where spies are hanged in the streets, one wrong move could condemn them both.

And surrendering her heart to Nate Reed may prove deadlier than war itself.

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 4

A traitor in the Continental Army. A raid that could end Virginia’s government. And one woman willing to risk everything for love.

Charlottesville, 1780

Anna Randolph has always believed women are capable of more than society allows. The daughter of a prominent military supplier in Revolutionary Virginia, she manages her father’s correspondence and longs to contribute meaningfully to the cause of independence. When she meets Major James Coleman at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, she’s drawn to the self-made officer who sees her as an equal—but in the uncertain spring of 1781, with war raging through Virginia, falling in love feels like both a gift and a gamble.

Major James Coleman earned his rank through merit, not birth. A Scots-Irish officer from the Shenandoah Valley, he’s gathering intelligence for the Marquis de Lafayette while avoiding romantic entanglements—his dangerous work is no life for a family man. But Anna Randolph is unlike any woman he’s ever known: intelligent, passionate, and brave. For the first time, James allows himself to imagine a future beyond the war. Until a routine visit to the Albemarle Barracks uncovers a deadly conspiracy threatening both Jefferson and the cause itself.

When whispered treason reveals plans for a devastating raid on Charlottesville and James is left for dead by a jealous rival, Anna must become the courier he never meant to send into danger. Racing thirty miles through enemy territory to reach Lafayette’s camp, she carries intelligence that could save Jefferson and alter the course of the war. In a world where women are meant to wait and worry, Anna Randolph will ride into the heart of danger to prove that sometimes the most perilous mission requires not just courage, but love.

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 5

North and South. Yankee and Rebel. Union and Confederate.
In the midst of the Civil War, can two hearts come together?

Roswell, 1863

When the tide of war sweeps south and the Union Army invades and destroys the Georgia cotton mill where Kate Brodie is a nurse, not only is her livelihood destroyed but she’s branded a traitor and shipped northward with the other workers. Only the unlikely attention of a Yankee major makes the trip tolerable.

Union major, Griffin Fletcher loathes the part of his job that requires him to destroy homes, towns, and livelihoods of innocent civilians. But he’s sworn to uphold the Union at all costs. Yet, he vows to protect these women he’s been ordered to transport to Marietta. Especially the one whose fiery determination, proud stance, and soft heart draws him closer.

Determined to remain in the South, Kate makes a daring leap of faith to nurse wounded Yankee soldiers, never expecting Major Fletcher to be one of her patients. Along with his healing, they each faced the fears and prejudices that had brought them together.

With survival so tenuous, can faith help them find love in the midst of so much tragedy?

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 6

She’s fighting to honor the past. He’s haunted by it.

Hawthorn, 1876

As Hawthorn, Texas, prepares for a grand celebration honoring America’s centennial and the town’s own fifty-year history, schoolteacher and archivist Mercy Owens is determined to see that every act of sacrifice and service is properly remembered. So when one local veteran refuses to take part in the festivities, she cannot simply let the matter rest.

Livery stable owner Wilson Porter has spent years quietly rebuilding his life after the Civil War left him carrying wounds no one can see. Respected by the town but haunted by the past, he wants no public recognition—especially not from a committee determined to call him a hero.

But as Mercy’s research draws her deeper into Wilson’s history, and a series of shared journeys begins to chip away at the walls between them, both must confront long-held beliefs about honor, sacrifice, and worth. Because sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is allow themselves to be truly seen.

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 7

She’s lived with his name for three years. He’s never known hers. Until they meet.

Halsey, 1955

Jackie Sinclair is good at what she does–flying airplanes during the Korean War. But when she makes a mistake that will haunt her forever, she’s determined to build a new life of peace and freedom in Nebraska. Except she comes face-to-face with Beckett J. Archer, the soldier she had failed so terribly, and her hopes for a new future threaten to fall apart.

Beck has returned to heal at the one place that means more to him than anything else–his father’s ranch. The memories of war have left their mark, but the brave and beautiful woman who lands in his life–literally–stirs up feelings he never expects, especially when an old family legacy threatens to drive them apart.

As trouble closes in from every side, Beck and Jackie are drawn together by danger, duty, and a growing love neither of them can deny.

BUY ON AMAZON

Book 8

In a season of fireworks and freedom, can two independent hearts make a declaration of love?

Holiday, OR, Modern Day

Grady Guthry understands the weight of a promise. Years after returning from the Army to help his widowed sister and young nephew rebuild their lives, he’s created a solid life in Holiday, Oregon. With a thriving construction business and deep roots in his small town, Grady’s world is steady, dependable, and safe—just the way he needs it. The last thing he’s looking for is change, especially not in the form of the town’s new, temporary postmaster.

Kate Barton has always followed the horizon. An Air Force veteran who thrives on freedom and fresh starts, she moves from one assignment to the next, never staying long enough to put down roots. But when she arrives in Holiday, she carries more than just her bags. A cherished locket left behind by her father draws her into a legacy she never knew existed—and begins to stir a longing she can’t quite ignore.

As Holiday prepares for the celebration of America’s 250th anniversary, an unexpected friendship between Grady and Kate deepens into an undeniable slow-burn romance. Grady offers Kate a sense of home she’s never known, while she reminds him there’s more to life than duty.

But with Kate’s departure date looming, the independence they’ve both fought to claim may become the very thing that keeps them apart.

In a season of healing, hope, and second chances, will they find the courage to let go of their plans—and choose a future together?

BUY ON AMAZON

You’re gonna love these books from Petticoats & Patriots.

But wait I have some more news:  Because I recently signed on with OHB Publishing (a small press publisher), I have four titles of my backlist newly edited and reissued, and there are some truly beautiful covers and so, if you’ll bear with me, I’ll show those covers below.  A word about this series: it is a solid Historical Romance but with a paranormal element.  Each hero in these four books is charged with a task of ending a centuries old curse.  Each hero in the books must free his band of the tribe from the curse.  Many before him have failed to free his people.  Will he, too, fail?

Okay, so here’s the covers:

Book #1:

The Angel and the Warrior

 

Book #2

The Spirit of the Wolf

Book #3: 

Red Hawk’s Woman

 

Book #4

The Last Warrior

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Book #4

The Last Warrior

And now for the surprise: I will be doing a drawing on the day after this blog (tomorrow/Wednesday) of all those who left a post on this blog– day after this blog — and the winner of the drawing will get her choice of one of the e-books shown here on this page.  Just please be aware that not all of the e-books are yet out.  However, if the e-book you’d like is not yet out, on the day of its release (or perhaps if I can preorder the book before it is released), I will gift you the e-book you have chosen.

I look forward to all your posts.

Do Well!

 

Alaska’s Wild Country Mythological Creatures

My husband and I recently returned from a two-week trip to Alaska and had a truly wonderful time. The many stunning sights didn’t disappoint, as you can imagine. We took several wildlife tours, spotting whales at sea and moose, caribou, dall sheep, and eagles on land. We soaked up as much history and culture as we could, along with plenty of excellent food that had us both returning home a few pounds heavier than when we left.

One thing we got a particular kick out of hearing about from tour guides and even locals was some of the more colorful tall tales and mythological legends particular to the area. I thought it might be fun to share a few with you here today.

Did you know that Alaska has its own version of Bigfoot and Sasquatch? It’s called the Alaskan Hairy Man. Much like their lower forty-eight cousins, these creatures roam the woods and mountain regions– which is literally freezing in the winter – are very elusive, stand considerably taller than a man, and emit odd, unsettling sounds. Stories of this creature are rooted in both Indigenous folklore and modern Alaskan cryptozoology (I had to look up this last word, it means the search for and study of unknown, legendary, or extinct animals whose existence is disputed or unsubstantiated by mainstream science). This creature is “supposedly” the reason the Nantiinaq fishing village of Port Chatham on the Kenai Peninsula was abandoned in the 1950s. They are also associated with the Alaskan Triangle, an area much like the Bermuda Triangle where there have been numerous unexplained disappearances and strange events.

There is another notorious creature by the name of Qalupalik that lives in the water and wears a traditional parka or amauti. It’s known for snatching children who wander away from their parents, then tucks them under the parka hood and carries them under the ice, never to be seen again. Yikes! I wonder if this tale wasn’t invented to purposely scare youngsters into behaving, kind of like the old European fairy tales such as Hanzel and Gretel.

One of the lesser known and malevolent mythological animals that also has its origins in Indigenous traditions across northern regions including Canada is called the Keelut. This oily, hairless, black animal resembles a dog and is reputed to travel between physical and spiritual worlds. Like the Alaskan Hairy Man and Qalupalik, the Keelut is solitary and stalks those who wander away from the beaten path. It is also said to be a symbol representing the harshness and perils of the northern wilderness, which sounds a whole lot better than harming people.

Well, if I scared you, I surely didn’t mean to. These mythical creatures and the stories of their unnerving habits are fascinating. I suppose they’re the result of early man or the first white explorers attempting to explain things that made no sense. I can certainly understand that in a place such as Alaska. If ever I visited somewhere filled with beauty and mystery and that defied logic it was there.

How about you? Have you ever visited our northern most state and if yes, what stood out to you the most?

The Woman on the Ledge ~ by Pam Crooks

 

When we think of heroes of the Old West, we often picture someone on horseback, wearing a badge, or standing tall with a rifle in hand.

But sometimes a hero wears a long skirt, climbs through a window in the middle of a hurricane, and reaches into raging floodwater to save strangers.

The Great Storm of 1900

For those who have never been to Galveston, Texas, (I haven’t!) it’s located on a long, skinny-looking island on the southernmost edge of Texas with Galveston Bay on one side and the Gulf of America on the other. It’s pretty and scenic, and lots of cruise ships sail from there.  But the island is notoriously only a few feet above sea level, which makes it very prone to disasters.

Especially more so in 1900.

The Hurricane

On September 8, 1900, a devastating hurricane struck Galveston. Known today as the Great Storm of 1900, it remains one of the deadliest natural disasters in American history. Thousands perished as wind and water swept across the island, destroying homes, businesses, churches, and families in a matter of hours. The Galveston Historical Foundation notes that at least 6,000 people died, many by drowning or beneath collapsing debris. But because records were incomplete and entire families vanished, other sources estimate the death toll was even higher at 8,000 or even 12,000.  Yikes!

At the time, Galveston was a thriving island city—wealthy, busy, and important as a port. When the hurricane came ashore, storm tides of roughly 8 to 15 feet swept across the island. NOAA describes winds over 130 mph and a 15-foot storm surge.  Another yikes!

But as often happens, in the aftermath of unspeakable tragedy, stories of courage rise up like cream from fresh milk.

The Schoolteacher

One story remains today, 126 years later. Some say the story is legend. Others claim it’s real. But for the story to linger so long, with so many details to make it believable, I’d like to think this heroine deserves her place in the history books.

The story goes that a young schoolteacher took shelter inside the Hutchings, Sealy & Company Bank building on the Strand. The building was built in the 1890s and was one of the structures that survived the 1900 storm. It’s still in existence today.

As the storm surge rose—some accounts say as high as seventeen feet—the schoolteacher found herself above a city enveloped in darkness. I’d love to know how she got there, or if she was alone, but from the third floor, she climbed through a window and balanced on a narrow ledge. (You can see the ledges in the picture.) Then, instead of staying safely inside, she reached down toward the raging waters and pulled people from the water, one by one, and dragged them into the building.

Can you imagine the terror she might have felt? The roar of wind, the crash of debris, the screams of those being swept past? The darkness. The rain. The knowledge that one wrong move could send her into the flood, too?

Or maybe she didn’t feel any terror at all. Maybe she was so driven to help that her heroics took over and banished all fear from her head.

Some stories say she cared for survivors for several days afterward before dying of fever. Others say her name was lost to history, though later tellings call her Sara. Or Sarah. Because her identity is uncertain, we may never know whether her story is true.

I find that part frustrating. Of all the people she helped, and for several days after, no one thought to ask her name? Maybe at the time, names weren’t important, but “Sarah” does seem consistent, even though her last name has been lost forever.  And how sad that her family might never have known how heroic she was. Or how many lives she’d saved. Maybe her family all perished, and that makes the whole thing even more sad.

But I guess, writing about her in this blog, and reading it, is another way we can honor her, right?

Have you heard about Sarah, the schoolteacher, and her legend?

What kind of hero would you be? Quiet and unassuming? Or would you be okay doing interviews in front of TV cameras and on social media?  🙂 

If you had been in that bank building during the storm, do you think you would have had the courage to reach out and help?

Have you or someone close to you ever done anything heroic?

Have you ever been in a hurricane?

The Legend of Nancy Hart by Jo-Ann Roberts

 

“Women are like teabags. We don’t know our true strength until we are in hot water.”  

Eleanor Roosevelt

If you’ve read any of my blogs here on P&P, you’ll recall I’ve often gone down the rabbit hole while researching my books. Which is exactly what happened a few weeks ago while I was researching information for an upcoming Civil War romance set to release in 2026, and came across a book, “The Cotillion Brigade” by Glen Carey.

Based on the true story of the celebrated Nancy Hart Rifles, “The Cotillion Brigade” is an inspiring story of the Civil War’s ravages on family and love, the resilient bonds of sisterhood amid devastation, and the miracle of reconciliation between bitter enemies. Twenty-one-year-old year-old Nannie Colquitt Hill and her “Fighting Nancies” stand between their beloved homes and the Yankee torches.  The all-female unit was composed of wives and daughters of Confederate soldiers.

While this book caught my interest, it was the mention of the Nancy Hart rifles that sent me tumbling down that tangled web. So, in honor of Women’s History Month here is the legend of Nancy Hart…

Nancy was born Ann Morgan in 1747. According to contemporary accounts, “Aunt Nancy,” as she was often called, was a tall, gangly woman who towered six feet in height. Like the frontier she inhabited, she was rough-hewn and rawboned, with red hair and a smallpox-scarred face. She was also cross-eyed. One early account pointed out that Hart had “no share of beauty—a fact she herself would have readily acknowledged, had she ever enjoyed an opportunity of looking into a mirror.”

Hart’s physical appearance was matched by a feisty personal demeanor characterized by a hotheaded temper, a fearless spirit, and a penchant for exacting vengeance upon those who offended her or harmed her family and friends. Members of the Cherokee Indian tribe soon began to refer to her as “Wahatche,” which may have meant “war woman.” She was also a domineering wife. Many remembered that she, rather than her husband, ran the Hart household, which eventually included six sons and two daughters. Although she was illiterate, Hart was amply blessed with the skills and knowledge necessary for frontier survival; she was an expert herbalist, a skilled hunter, and despite her crossed eyes, an excellent shot.

Nancy was known for being a devoted Patriot, who strongly disliked the British and their cause. She dedicated most of her life to fighting against it. She also fought British and Loyalist soldiers on her own property in the Georgia backcountry on multiple occasions. In one such instance, Nancy was making lye soap, and the liquid was extremely hot. Her daughter noticed a pair of eyes peeking through the wall of their log cabin. She alerted her mother, and Nancy stopped to throw a ladle of steaming soap mixture right into the eyes of the British soldier. She tended the soldier’s wounds before surrendering him to the Patriots.

Perhaps the most famous legend states that British soldiers entered the Hart property looking for a local patriot leader they had been pursuing. When they knocked on the door, Nancy refused to give them any information. Convinced she was lying, the soldiers slaughtered the last turkey on the property, barged into her house, and demanded Nancy cook it for them.

As the soldiers made themselves comfortable, Nancy served them plenty of her corn liquor, getting them drunk enough that they would not notice her sneaking their weapons outside the house each time she walked by them. Then, her daughter snuck outside and used a conch shell to alert the neighbors that they needed assistance.

When the soldiers caught on to what Nancy was doing with their muskets and threatened her, she turned the weapon on them. The soldiers ignored her warning, so she shot and killed the first to approach her. Nancy and her daughter held the remaining at gunpoint until the neighbors arrived. The rest of the soldiers were hanged on a nearby tree.

While this story is steeped in legend, it was given credence in 1912 by the discovery of six bodies on the Hart property. It was said that the skeletal remains were buried three feet underground and had been there for at least a century.

In 1853, the state of Georgia formed a new county from parts of Franklin and Elbert counties and named it Hart County after Nancy Hart. She is the only woman with a county named after her in Georgia. Near the city of Hartwell, G.A., the U.S. government dedicated a monument to her that says, “To commemorate the heroism of Nancy Hart.” In 1932, the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR), with the help of the Civilian Conservation Corps, rebuilt Nancy’s cabin. The DAR gave the cabin to the state of Georgia, and the area, about 14 acres, was turned into a state park.

My May 30th Release!

An outlaw looking for a fresh start. A schoolteacher who might hold the key to the entire town’s salvation.

Ash “Shotgun” McCrae can never make up for all the wrong he’s done. After leaving a notorious outlaw gang, he thought he’d discovered the peaceful existence he’d been looking for when he found work laying tracks for the railroad in Rivers Bend. Yet, when trouble shows up in town, he fears he may never free himself from the burden of his past.

Schoolteacher Kate Cummings stands as the one bright light in contrast to the curious looks and behind-the-glove whispers blowing through the town. The arrival of Padraic “Patch” Rooney and his gang challenges the small-town serenity she holds dear. Still, her steadfast trust in Ash awakens the strength of courage within them all, giving rise to the collective defiance against the approaching danger.

In a deadly game of dangerous outlaws and secret schemes, Kate and Ash must decide whether they are willing to risk everything for their love, including their lives.

 Pre-Order Link

 

 

 

 

New 25th Anniversary Book Just Released — Plus a Giveaway

Howdy!  Howdy!  And Welcome to another terrfic Tuesday!

News!  News!

I’ve just re-released another 25th Anniversary book, LONE ARROW’S PRIDE.  The book has been re-edited and proofed and has a gorgeous new cover.  And, I’ll be giving away two copies of this book free.  However, the book is currently on sale for $.99 and is also on KU.

 

This book has an interesting history.  And I’d love to share it with you.  This is really the only hidden treasure book I’ve written, while also being a solid Historical Romance/Native American.

The story begins when I was writing for AVON/HarperCollins Books.  I had submitted a story idea, which my editor rejected for some various reasons.

So I had to come up with a new story idea and I remember sitting now in my livingroom brainstorming with my husband and my brother-in-law…who used to mine for gold out in the desert.  Well, they have some great stories of goldmining in the Superstition Mountains.  And so, all those years ago, I was told the following story.  Hope you’ll enjoy!

The cover off to the left is the cover made by Samhain Publishing.

What I am about to tell you, by the way, is a true tale, or perhaps we should call it a legend as told to me by my husband and brother-in-law.

In Arizona, there is a mountain range called the Superstitious Mountains, just outside of Phoenix. Some of you might be familiar with the legend of the Lost Dutchman’s gold mine. Some may not. Bear with me.

There are many, many miners who go into the Superstitious Mountains today, hunting for the Lost Dutchman gold mine. Many years ago stones were found, upon which was written some hieroglyphics, thought to be part of a map. Many of these stones were discovered all over the Superstitious Mountains and all of them were thought to be part of a map that would lead others to the Lost Dutchman’s gold mine. Today, those stones are on display in a bank where all can see them and try to discern where the gold mine is.

What is not generally known is that many hundreds of years previous, there were Jesuit priests in these mountains. They befriended the Indians and managed to get the Indians to bring them gold from these mountains, whereupon the Jesuit priests made artifacts out of the gold. Many, many artifacts.

To the left is the original cover of LONE ARROW’S PRIDE.

These priests were recalled to Spain. Most of them refused to go and so Spain sent an army into the Southwest to drive the priests home. The priests got word of the oncoming army and, deciding not to let the army get their gold, nor take the gold back to Spain where it would most likely be claimed by the king, they hid their treasure. It is the Jesuit priests who etched the map on the stones in hieroglyphics and left these stones in fairly inconspicuous places, thinking to come back and collect the gold at a later date.

Recently miners have found, after using the stones on display, and digging about twenty-two feet deep in these mountains, two crosses with more hieroglyphics on them.

To date, neither the Lost Dutchman’s mine, nor the stash of gold from the Jesuit priests has been found. Added to this is the fact that the Indians believed that the Thunder God lived in the Superstitious Mountains and in fact, up until the late nineteenth century, no one was able to go into the mountains and mine the gold without great risk to their lives. Any white person found in the mountains was at once killed.

Another interesting fact is that earlier on, two brothers got word of the mines in those mountains and were mining one that they had found. They made two successful trips into the mountains and obtained a great deal of gold. On the third trip they were discovered by the Indians. And so the brothers loaded up all of their gold and put it into bags, which they tied onto their mules.

Of course, these two brothers were found and killed by the Indians, but the mules were let go, still carrying the bags of gold. The last bag of gold to be found was in the 1920s or 30s (I forget which), and contained gold to the amount of approximately $12,000 at that time—today the find would have been close to half a million dollars.

So the question is: Has anyone ever found the Lost Dutchman’s Mine? Not to my knowledge.

Has anyone discovered the gold that was hidden by the Jesuit priests? Not that we know of. But I would have to ask you this question. If you were there and you found it, would you tell anyone?

**********

So, I took these stories and brought some of what I learned into the Bighorn Mountains in Montana where the legend lives on (but in a different location).  Now this is Crow country.

To the left here i a photo of Hail Stone, a young Crow Indian who, by the way, married a white woman.

I’ll close up the blog today with the synopsis of the story.

LONE ARROW’S PRIDE

Buried Treasure Shines Brightest in the Dark

Ten years after she survived a cholera epidemic that wiped out her entire wagon train, Carolyn White is on a quest to shake off the bad luck that follows her everywhere and which now threatens her adopted family. The unending string of mishaps can have only one source: the gold piece that she, in childish innocence and wonder, once took from a stolen cache.

She tells herself her journey to Crow Country is merely to put the piece back in the cave where she found it. Yet, in her heart she knows it’s the memory of Lone Arrow, the boy who sheltered her there. The boy whose face—now that of a man’s—inhabits her dreams.

Lone Arrow’s anger knows no bounds. Anger with the white woman he suspects isn’t being truthful to him. Anger with himself that he cannot ignore the beauty who captured his heart even as a boy. Though trust is in short supply, he can’t deny his burning need for her. Whatever else she may be, she is his destiny.

This is the 25th Year Anniversary Edition of this book.

Warning: Sensuous Romance which contains a passion that could lead to soul-stirring love.

If you’d like to enter the drawing for a free copy of the ebook, LONE ARROW’S PRIDE, just leave a comment and you’re autormatically entered into the drawing.  And, remember, the book is free on KindleUnlimited and is on sale now for $.99.

Here is the Amazon link for the book:

https://tinyurl.com/LONEARROWSPRIDE

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Before I get into the subject of the blog today, let me tell you that I will be giving away two (2)  of the original editions — mass market editions as the book was original published — of the book, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE, book #3 in the Legendary Warriors series.  I’ll do a drawing from all you who leave a post on today’s blog.  So, without further ado, let’s have a look at the Iroquois, their festivals and especially their Harvest Festival.

Yummm…  The smells of pumpkin pie, turkey and cranberry sauce reminds me of happy times with family and friends and I hope it does the same with you.  And, this time of year is now upon us.  Now, before I continue this post, let me say a few things about the word, Indian.

At the time Columbus discovered America, the country of India was not called India.  It was known as Hindustan.  And so Columbus’ “mistake” in thinking he was in “India” doesn’t make sense when seen in this light.  Russell Means (Actor and Freedom Fighter) did much research on the word, Indian, and took note that Columbus (Italian) used the words, In Dios, meaning In God, to describe the people he met as a Godly people.  The same words — or words quite similar — are used in Spanish, also,  According to Russell Means, this is most likely where the word came from.

When I was writing about the Iroquois, I did some study and discovered the Iroquois had many festival days each year and one of them…which we all are familiar with …was the Harvest Festival.  If you haven’t seen the movie, Squanto, staring Adam Beach, you might think about getting the video and watch it.  It’s a wonderful movie and goes into detail about the first Thanksgiving.  So, please bear with me as I talk a little about the festivals of the Iroquois (and most of the Eastern Indians, as well).

Thanksgiving was one of several festivals amongst the Eastern Indians. There were many festivals throughout the year, and they tended to follow the seasons.

All the Indians believed in God, the Creator.  And their celebrations were to honor the Creator.  The Iroquois celebrated six festivals, wherein they gave thanks to the Creator for all they had.  These festivals would open with speeches by leaders, teachers, and elders.  And of course there was much dancing, which was done not only for the fun of simply dancing, but it was also a sense of worship.  It was thought that because the Creator needed some sort of amusement, He gave the people dancing.

In spring — early March — it was time to collect together tree bark and sap – this was needed to repair houses and other things, such as canoes, bowls, etc.   Spring was also the time for planting.  This was the maple festival.  Next was the Planting festival.  Here prayers were sent to the Creator to bless their seed.

The Iroquois’ main food source was corn, beans and squash (the three sisters), and of course deer meat or other meat when available.  Family gardens were separated by borders that were broad and grassy — they would even camp on these borders and sometimes they would raise watch towers.

The next festival of the Iroquois was the Strawberry Festival.  This is where the people gave thanks to the Creator for their many fruits (like strawberries).  It was summertime.  The women gathered wild nuts and other foods, while the men hunted, fished and provided various meats for cooking.  Again, each festival was greeted with much dancing and merriment.  Did you know that the Iroquois believed the way to the Creator was paved with strawberries?

The festival after the Strawberry Festival was the Green Corn Festival.  Again, the people thanked the Creator for the bounty of food that had been raised all through the summer.  Dancers danced to please the Creator and musicians sang and beat the drum.  Again there were many speeches to honor the people and the Creator.  There were team sports.  Lacrosse was the game that was most admired and it was played with great abandon by the men.  Women played games, too, and often their games were as competitive as the men’s.

The festival following that was…are you ready?  Thanksgiving — or the Harvest Thanksgiving.  By this time the women had harvested the corn, beans and squash.  Much of it would be dried.  Much went to feed families.  Husks were made into many different items.  Dolls, rugs, mats.  Did you know that the dolls didn’t have faces?  Now was the time to gather more nuts and berries.  Men were busy, too, hunting far away.  Bear, moose, beaver were all sought after and hunted.  Again, there was much celebration.  Dancing, speeches, prayer.  And of course — food.  It was this particular festival that was shared with the newcomers to this continent.

Can you guess what the next festival was?  Although this festival took place around Christmas time, it was not a celebration of Christmas — but if you guessed this, you were very close.  The next and last festival of the year was New Year’s.  At this time, a white dog was sacrificed as a gift to the Creator.  This was also a time for renewing the mind and body.  (Does that not remind you of our New Year’s resolutions?)  At this time, the False Face Society members would wear masks to help others to cleanse themselves of their bad minds and restore only their good minds.  There was again much celebration, much dancing, much merriment and enjoyment as each person would settle in for the long winter ahead of them.

The First Americans indeed did give this country very much, not only its festivals which we still remember to this day, but also it gave to this nation a fighting spirit for freedom.  In these times when there seems to be a forgetfulness about our American roots, it is wonderful to remember that the American Indian and the Love of Freedom went hand-in-hand.  I know I am thankful for my family and my husband and daughters and my granddaughter and grandson.  I’m thankful to be able to travel this beautiful country.  I’m thankful that I was raised in a country where one could voice one’s opinion regardless of the wishes of the “King,” even if those freedoms are not as easily found today as they once were.

Our country is not only beautiful, but it was built on solid beautiful principles.

Well, I’d love to hear your ideas on this post.  Don’t forget: there will be a drawing for the gift of the original version of the mass market book, SOARING EAGLE’ EMBRACE, so please come on in tell me how you and yours celebrate the beautiful holiday we know as Thanksgiving.

This is not the original artwork for the paperback book, but it is what I have for the book that is for sale at Amazon.  This artwork was done when I was publishing the work at Samhain Publishing.

 

 

Have We Been Told the Truth About Custer’s Last Stand? Grab a chair and come on in. Let’s chat!

Howdy!

I hope each and every one of you is doing well on this 9th day in September.  We have beautiful skies here, but it is a little colder than usual for this time of year.  Well today I thought I’d share a little bit of history with you, almost straight-from-the-horse’s-mouth.

Ah, Custer’s Last Stand.

I know we have probably all seen some movie or another about Custer’s Last Stand.  Or if not a movie, one might have read a book on the subject.

Well, here I sit with a book entitled, Pretty-Shield, Medicine Woman of the Crow by Frank B. Linderman. To the left is a picture of Pretty Shield and her husband, Goes-ahead.  Both of them were older in this picture, but Pretty Shield’s husband, Goes-ahead, in his younger days, was a scout for Custer and was present on the day of the Little Bighorn Battle, sometimes called Custer’s Last Stand.

After the fight, Goes Ahead returned home — after some fighting along the way — and told this story to his wife, Pretty Shield of what he saw of the battle and how Custer died.

 

Below and to the right is a picture of Goes-ahead as a young man.  Pretty Shield begins her story telling Mr. Linderman that she was a young woman when Sun-of-morning-star (Custer) fought the Lakota.  Many Crow warriors went with General Terry and about a hundred and fifty more went with Geneal Crook (who got whipped by Crazy Horse and his warriors).

Many of the blue soldiers (military men) came on a Fire-boat (steamship) on the Elk (Yellowstone) River and asked the chief if some of their wolves (scouts) would scout for them.  A council was held and the chief and several scouts agreed to help the blue soldiers.  One of them was Pretty Shield’s husband, Goes-ahead.

Pretty Shield tells the story of two Crow women who fought with General Crook at the Rosebud.  She gives much detail about these two women who fought and won.  She makes a point of saying the men will not tell this story, but there were two women who fought that day.

So now we come to the part of the story about Son-of-the-morning-star.  Their were six Crow warriors with Custer that day, Goes-ahead (her husband), White-swan, Half-yellow-face, Hairy-moccasin, White-man-runs-him and Curly.  Her man, Goes-ahead and White-man-runs-him and Hairy-moccasin were ahead of Custer

Of course, soon the three scouts in advance could see that there were more Lakota and Cheyenne warriors in their large camp than the soldiers had bullets taken all together.  This they told to Custer, but he didn’t listen to them.  Instead, he asked if they knew of a good place to camp.  They did.  It was at a place called Thompson Creek.

To the left is another picture of Goes-ahead as a young man.

When morning came, the Crow scouts were out before the soldiers were awake and came to see the Lakota/Cheyenne camp.  Goes-ahead told his wife, Pretty Shield, that he had never seen such a camp that big.  They, of course, went and told this to Custer, but he would not listen.

Pretty Shield also makes a point that her man, Goes-ahead said that Son-of-morning-star was drinking too often from a bottle that had a straw.  Another scout, Two-bodies told Custer he could yet get away, but again, Custer wouldn’t listen.

Goes-ahead then stripped himself for battle (in battle, the Indians usually stripped down to breechcloth and moccasins because they wanted nothing in their way when in the midst of battle.  Curly, who said he was sick ran away.  Pretty Shield says she knows these things are true because her man, Goes-ahead was with Custer and this is the story he told: I am now quoting from the book, page 236:

“My man, Goes-ahead, was with Son-of-the-morning-star when he rode down to the water of the Little Bighorn.  He heard a Lacota call out to Two-bodies [Mitch Boyer, an interpreter], who rode beside Son-of-the-morning-star, and say ‘Go back, or you will die.’

“But Son-of-the-morning-star did not go back.  He went ahead, rode into the water of the Little Bighorn, with Two-bodies on one side of him, and his flag on the other — and he died there, died in the water of the Little Bighorn, with Two-bodies, and the blue soldier carrying his flag.

The story goes on with how Goes-ahead left when Custer fell, but also tells of how he and the other scouts eventually retreated, fighting another battle along the way.

Pretty Shield ends her story thusly — and again I am quoting from the book:

“Yes,” she said, her voice trailing off to a murmur, “my man, Goes-ahead, was afraid that day; but he did not lie to me.  The monument that white men have set up to mark the spot where Son-of-the-morning-star fell down, is a lie.  He fell in the water,” she whispered, as though to the shade (or shadow — spirit) of her man Goes-ahead.

“Her attitude affected me (Linderman) deeply.”

And thus ends the story from the mouth of one of the Crow scouts who saw Custer fall at the Battle of Little Bighorn that day.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this bit of history which has been rewritten in movies and several books, none of which are true–if Goes-ahead, who was there and swears this story is true– says it happened differently.

I hope you have enjoyed this little bit of history.

As I close this blog for today, i thought I should tell you that the entire Medicine Man series is on sale for today only.

SHE STEALS MY BREATH — on sale for $0.99

 

SHE CAPTURES MY HEART — on sale for $0.99

 

SHE PAINTS MY SOUL — on sale for $2.99

 

SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME — on sale for $3.49

Only at Amazon.  Now might be a good time to pick up your copy of each book in the series.

Amazon link to the series page:  https://tinyurl.com/medicinemanseries

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At Last! The Story, SHE PAINTS MY SOUL, 1st Draft is Done!

Howdy!

Welcome, Welcome to a terrific Tuesday!

Deep breath.  The first draft of SHE PAINTS MY SOUL is done!  (Another deep breath)  Now the book goes into edits, which are usually quite intense as we get the book ready to release.

Although the book won’t be on the market for another couple of months — due to edits — I’m so excited to be done with this story, I thought I’d post a short excerpt as well as a peek at the new cover.  I’m always told one shouldn’t do this because people can’t then, at once, go and get the book.  But, I’m going to break the rules for a moment and post a short excerpt.  This book ties up the 1st, 2nd and this, the 3rd book in the series.

The book is so new, I don’t even have a blurb yet.  So, forgive me all the things that should be here and at present, are not.  Am just excited to be finished with the story and am now heading straight into my own edits and then the book goes to my editor.  This first scene is a highly fictionalize story of what I’m told was an actual happening that took place perhaps thousands of years ago.  I am told the real event took place in the dog days — long before the horse ever came to America.

SHE PAINTS MY SOUL

by

Karen Kay

 

CHAPTER ONE

Montana Territory

Blackfoot Country

August, 1840

 

From a ridge high above the four tepees, Strikes Fast looked down upon the familiar scene of the blue, yellow and red painted tepees, their entrances facing east, while the back of each of the lodges was braced by several poles to provide protection against the westerly winds.  The largest dwelling—the lodge painted with images of warriors the magician had killed—would be the tepee of Red Sky and his first wife.  Probably it also housed his newest captive, Sharon.

The second tepee would be the home of his other six wives.  Strikes Fast recognized the third and fourth tepees in the camp as belonging to the magician’s brother and his four wives.  But, the brother was not a recognized warrior with a good war record, and, during a fight, it was well known the man would be inclined to hide like the coward he was.

The tepees had been set up on an island in the middle of the Áashisee, the Big Missoui River, and Strikes Fast took a moment to admire the setting of the blue water against the backdrop of the white and gray cliffs which jutted up so grandly from the land.  In the far distance could be seen the summit of a mountain, but it was too far away to discern more than a misty image of its peak.  Because it was late morning, the sun was high in the sky, adding to the silhouette of the bright, blue-colored river and the gray and white cliffs, the azure sky seeming to paint them with all the colors given by Sun, the Creator.

It was a good day to die.  But perhaps, if his medicine were good today, his demise could be delayed.

Heaving in a deep sigh, Strikes Fast rose up to his full six foot height and stood up straight and tall, his look unafraid as he began his descent down the cliff.  He did not seek to hide the noise he made in the warm, shallow water as he trod through it toward the island.  Nor did he creep into the magician’s camp like a wolf in the night.  Rather he announced his coming with as grand an entry as possible.

After stepping up onto the shoreline of the island, Strikes Fast strode immediately to the lodge of Red Sky and, scratching on the entry flap, let himself in without awaiting a reply.

Strikes Fast scanned, without really looking, at the interior of the lodge.  Many of the comforts of home were to be seen within the lodge even though Red Sky was far from home.  The brightly painted tepee liner, the comfortable back-rest, the many robes and furs, as well as the several and assorted parfleche storage bags holding food and the family’s clothing were laid out or hung up on tepee poles for convenience. It was odd how comfortable Red Sky and his family were, being that they had set up camp within the territory of the enemy.  It only went to show the amount of faith Red Sky and his family placed upon the deadly effect of Red Sky’s magic.

As the familiar scent of the smoke from the inside fire reached out to Strikes Fast, his “host,” Red Sky, said in his deep, bass voice, “Welcome.  I have not seen you for many snows.  We had all thought you to be dead, yet here you are, alive and without proper manners…as usual.  What brings you here on such an uninviting afternoon?”

Odd, how the other man could insult, yet extend a welcome all in the same breath.  Said Strikes Fast in the Crow tongue, “I have come to bring the woman you have stolen back to the Pikuni people.  She is not Pikuni.  She is white and you may not have her.”

“I will not part with her.  She brings me…pleasure.”  Red Sky smiled, though the look possessed more of the air of an evil temperament than amusement.  “You may leave now.”

But, Strikes Fast did not leave.  Instead, he glanced quickly at Sharon, the beautiful tawny-haired white woman, if only to ensure she was alive and aware.  For a moment, she returned his gaze, but then she looked quickly away.

Finding an unoccupied place within Red Sky’s lodge, Strikes Fast sat down cross-legged, as was befitting a real man.  He said, “I think you had best give her to me.”

“Think you so?”

Strikes Fast shrugged.  “I do.  Unless you wish to war with me.  But, I advise you against it, for you will not win it.”

Red Sky seemed to enjoy a good laugh at Strikes Fast’s expense, before he replied, “You know well my magic.  You have seen it kill men much greater than you.”  Again Red Sky smiled, but the gesture was hardly cheerful.  “Go now and I will forget all about this.”

“I would like to leave at once,” said Strikes Fast.  “But she must come with me.  I will not go away from here without her.”

Again, Red Sky laughed, as though Strikes Fast were a clown intent on humoring him.  “‘She must come with me,'” Red Sky mimicked.  “I do not think so.  This is your last chance to leave and remain alive.”

Strikes Fast didn’t speak.  Instead, he looked down as he extended his mind out into the environment, preparing himself for what he knew was to come.  He had never been witness to Red Sky’s medicine.  Yet, he had heard much about it from many other Crow people and he had personally known men who had been killed by it.

Unexpectedly, he felt the power of kindness as well as a warm regard upon him, and he looked up to see its source, finding himself staring straight into the light, amber color of Sharon’s eyes.  For a moment, he gazed into the beauty of her countenance, realizing for the first time the strength and goodness of her heart.

However, her heart was not the only admirable quality about her.  She was beautiful of face and figure, as well, with light, delicate-colored skin; rose-colored cheeks and long, amber-colored hair, some of the length of it falling in waves over her shoulders and covering her breast.  She was slim and rounded in all the right places and the style of her white-man’s clothing emphasized her femininity.

The image of her, as well as the strength of her heart gladdened him.  Said Strikes Fast, returning his attention to the matter at hand, “I will do battle with you if you insist upon it.  But I warn you.  You have never had to endure the power of my medicine upon you.  And so, because you do not know who I really am or what I can do, I will give you one last chance.  Give her to me and I will leave here.”

Red Sky laughed so hard, the tepee practically shivered.  Then, reaching out to take hold of a particular parfleche bag, Red Sky looked up and grinned.  This must have been a special bag to the man, for it was decorated with red and white symbols of war; triangles, sharp-tipped arrows, spears, bows and even a red and white symbol of a white man’s long rifle were all painted upon it.

“Prepare to die,” uttered the magician, Red Sky, and, from the parfleche bag, he extracted a spider.  No more.  No less.  But what a spider it was, being perhaps the size of a man’s fist.  It was a black spider, also, and its front legs looked to be claws.  But, it was the spider’s fangs, sharp and long, which would cause its poison to enter into a man’s bloodstream, the result being a long and painful death.

So, this was the source of Red Sky’s black magic.

For a moment Strikes Fast felt a shiver of fear run down his spine.  But, instead of allowing himself to give in to the emotion, Strikes Fast grinned at the magician as though daring the man to do his worst.

And, his worst was known to be very bad.  Indeed, Strikes Fast knew there was no medicine man within the Crow Nation who possessed an herb, a tea or a special kind of mud to extract the poison or to counter the poison, once the spider had bitten a man.  Indeed, the effect of its deadly poison was legendary within the memory of his people; many warriors had perished because of it.  Strikes Fast had known a few of them.

But, Strikes Fast had not come ill-prepared.  He possessed his own power.  And, taking a parfleche bag from around his shoulder, Strikes Fast  extracted a few small, brown twigs, some bits of buckskin, a few bones and stones.

Uttered the magician, Red Sky, “You are looking for a fight with me and your only defense is an assortment of sticks?”

Strikes Fast grinned.  They certainly looked to be no more than sticks and small bones which had been glued in place.  But, these were more than what they appeared to be.  As simple as they looked, Strikes Fast knew these small sticks and bones could cause fear to flourish within even the most stout-hearted man.

Glancing up at the evil magician, Strikes Fast grinned, then waved his hand over the assembled sticks, silently asking the sticks to become a small warrior.  At once it was done, and, though the tiny figure of the man was perhaps not larger than a man’s middle finger, the small fighter looked unflinchingly at his enemy and held his small lance up into position, preparing to jab it into the spider.

The little man, however, didn’t appear to put fear into the spider.  The monster continued to move forward toward the tiny man.

Looking down at the tiny warrior, Strikes Fast beheld his man’s minuscule weapons, a bow and some arrows, as well as the sharp spear.  They might be tiny, yet he knew them to be effective.  The diminutive figure, now obviously alive, paced steadily toward the spider, the small man’s lance aimed directly at the heart of the spider.

Red Sky laughed evilly.  “This is all you have to counter my spider?  A spider who has defied men bigger than you?  My spider cannot die, you see.  Your man, there, being no more than sticks and pieces of bone, will have no effect upon my creature of magic.”  And so saying, Red Sky waved his hand over the spider, saying to the monster, “Kill the small man.  Then kill his owner.”

But, Strikes Fast also waved his hand over the small man, saying nothing at all with words, but with his mind, he spoke to the man, and said, “Drive the spider away.  Kill him so that the evil of the creature is gone from this earth.”

And, fearlessly, the small man, armed with a lance, as well as the bow and arrows, advanced toward his opponent.  The little man did not hesitate nor back away, even when the spider, who was bigger than he, showed his fangs, the poison dripping from them onto the ground.

Red Sky laughed…at first.  But, when the tiny man showed no fear and kept advancing toward the spider with his spear trained upon the creature, Red Sky frowned.

Again, Red Sky waved his hand over the spider, causing the creature’s fangs to ominously click.  The magician chuckled.

But still, the small man advanced using his spear to lunge forward, and then, with a quick movement, he propelled the spear into the creature, the spider emitting a cry and jumping back.

The small man continued to advance, however, and he jabbed his lance toward the spider, narrowing missing the creature.

Only then did Strikes Fast admit to Red Sky, “There be poison on my man’s spear.  Should he strike another blow upon your monster, it will die.  Be prepared.”

The war waged on and the spider continued to retreat, injured and in a hurry to get away.  The small man continued to advance, lunging his spear at the spider, and though he did not connect his lance with the spider again, each jab narrowly missed the unsightly monster.

Then, obviously seeking to get away from his opponent, the spider jumped up onto one of the lodge poles and quickly climbed upwards toward the top of the pole.  But, Strikes Fast’s little man did not back away; he continued to advance toward the creature, the little man appearing to be uninfluenced by gravity.

“No!  What are you doing?  Spider come back!” cried Red Sky.  But the spider didn’t listen to his owner.

“Call your man off!” cried Red Sky.  “Do you hear?  Call him off!”

“I will call my man back to me only if you will give me your promise to allow the girl to go with me.  Nor must you fight me in any way.”

The spider had now reached the top of the highest tepee pole.  And, Red Sky, looking upward at it, cried out, “You may have her.  You have my word on it.  Take her!  Now!  Hurry and go!  Take anything else of mine you wish to have, but call your man back!”

Without saying a word, Strikes Fast silently spoke to his magical man, and, opening his parfleche bag, allowed the man to jump back into it.  With the flick of his hand, the man became again no more than sticks and bone.

Arising, Strikes Fast stepped around the fire toward Sharon and, taking her by the hand, paced toward the entrance flap.  Bending, he let himself and Sharon out of Red Sky’s lodge, he, of course, being the first to exit the lodge, as was tradition.  He still grasped Sharon’s hand within his own.

Only then did he really look at the two ponies tied beside Red Sky’s lodge.  Earlier he had given them little attention, but now his gaze took in their obvious worth.

They were both black and white spotted horses and they looked to be strong.  Perhaps they were Red Sky’s best buffalo runners, the kind of horse valued more to the Indian heart than the white man’s gold.

Cutting them both from their bindings, Strikes Fast gave the reins of one of them to Sharon and kept one for himself.  And then, calmly, as though they had all the time in the world, he and Sharon walked out into the calm of a warm afternoon.


Well, that’s all for today.  I’ll be giving away the e-book of the 1st book in this series, SHE STEALS MY BREATH to one of the bloggers today.  So, please leave a message.  And, please be sure to read all the P &P rules that govern our giveaways — they are off to the right on this page.

Have a super day and a fabulous week.

Samuel Walker and a Little Bit of History

Are you up for a little history today? We haven’t had any in while. I found this article about Samuel Walker that interested me.

Walker arrived in Texas six years following the War for Independence. He would only live five more years but in that time, he left an indelible mark.  Such as defend San Antonio from Mexican forces, invade Mexico four times, escape from a Mexican prison, and help design one of the most famous guns in Texas.

In 1843, he was captured and put in a Mexican prison. Instead of killing all 176 Texas militiamen, they made them draw beans from a pot. Whoever drew a black bean would die and the ones with the white beans would live. Walker drew a white bean and was marched 800 miles across Mexico’s most brutal deserts.

He eventually escaped and made it back to Texas where he joined the Texas Rangers in 1844.

This photo taken by Mathew Benjamin Brady is in the Library of Congress under Public Domain.

When General Zachary Taylor (who later became president of the U.S.) asked for volunteers for a dangerous mission, Walker raised his hand. It seems danger was something he thrived on. He led the battle for Monterrey and hoisted the American flag.

Have you ever heard of the Walker Colt revolver? In 1846, Samuel Walker met up with Samuel Colt and together they designed the heaviest military sidearm ever issued. It remained the heaviest for 88 years. It had a nine-inch barrel and a .44 caliber round and an effective range of 100 yards. That’s the length of a football field. Impressive.

By Samuel Colt – This file was donated to Wikimedia Commons as part of a project by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. See the Image and Data Resources Open Access Policy, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=58745572

 

The only drawback was that it weighed 4 ½ pounds, far too heavy for most men to hold with one hand. A lot of users made a scabbard and kept it on their horse, only using it when the need arose.

It was an awesome weapon. Several years ago I had the opportunity to hold one and I had to use both hands to pick it up and even then I could barely raise it to aim.

I’m not a gun advocate but I do admire the workmanship of this. I also admire Samuel Walker and the large life he lived, the mark he left on history, in just 5 years. A Texas Ranger Captain and officer of the republic, he died in 1847 in battle. A fitting end to a legend.

I’ve put the Texas Rangers into some of my stories but never as the main character. I may have to remedy that.

Do you ever find that a piece of history just leaps out at you? That happens to me all the time and I go chasing a rabbit down a hole. I’ll have a new book out in March called Winning Maura’s Heart. CLICK HERE to preorder. Who is the mysterious man known only as Calhoun?

Petticoats & Pistols