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?

Merry Christmas! My Gift to You — Two Native American Legends

It’s Christmas Time!  ‘Tis the season for giving.  And today I will be giving away two of my books that honor the Iroquois Nation, BLACK EAGLE and SENECA SURRENDER in e-book format to one of you bloggers. So come on in, leave a comment, and also please sure to check back here for the winner on either Wednesday or Thursday evening.  Nowadays I try to inform the winner with an email, but this is not always possible.

One of my most favorite Christmas memories is being told a story the night before Christmas in an attempt to get me to go to sleep.  It didn’t work very well (getting me to go to sleep).  But it is a wonderful memory.

And so I thought I’d regale you with two Native American legends.  This first story is a wonderful tale, an ancient, timeless, American Indian Legend.  This is the beautiful story of The Gift of the Creator.  This story is taken from the book, LEGENDS OF THE IROQUIOS, by Tehanetorens.  Enjoy!

 

Long, long ago, an old, old man came into an Iroquois Village.  He was tired and hungry, and his clothing was tattered and torn.  As he walked through the village, he came first to a longhouse of the Turtle Clan.  Pulling on the entryway, he asked for food and lodging for the night.  But he was turned away because he looked to be an old beggar, and he was instructed to go away.

Next the old man came to the longhouse that had the symbol of a snipe on the house — a snipe is a kind of wading bird.  Again, he pulled back on the entryway and asked for food.  But like before, he was scolded and turned away.  He moved on.

He walked on to the longhouses of many of the other clans, including the Wolf, the Eagle, the Beaver and more.  Each time he asked for food and lodging, but each time he was turned away.

Exhausted now, the old man came at last to the very last longhouse in the Iroquois Village.  Pulling back on the cover across the entrance, he was met by an old woman.  Again, he asked for food and lodging for the night.

However, this time the old woman took pity on him, and asked him to come inside, where she treated him to a hearty meal, and invited him to stay for the night.  She made him welcome, giving him warm clothing and warm bedding.

However, the next day, the man was very ill, and he asked the woman to please help him by going into the forest and gathering the roots of a plant.

This she did for him.  When she returned, he instructed her on how to make a soup and a tea from the plant, which he then consumed.  Soon he was well.  But it wasn’t long before he became ill once more, and again, he instructed the woman to go out into the forest and to gather the stalk of yet another plant.  This she did.  Again, he instructed her how to make a tea of it, which, when he drank the tea, he became well.

Over and over again, the man became sick, and sent the woman into the forest to pick different herbs and plants, and each time, when he drank the tea, he became well.  One day, the woman came home to the longhouse and found that the old man had become a handsome, young man.

The old woman became frightened, but the young man told her to be calm.  He told her that he was the Creator, and that because of her kindness to him, he was going to bestow upon her and her clan, the Bear Clan, a wonderful gift: the gift of healing.   And so it came to be.  The old woman became the most respected member of the tribe, and from that day forward, the Bear Clan, and all within it became the Keepers of the Medicine.  The lesson learned is that kindness, empathy, and good-will are always rewarded.  We may not always see it, as did the old woman in this story, and yet, we will, in our own way, be rewarded.

And now comes the second story that is so beautiful to read about at this time of year.

 

This is the tale of a girl who married her one, true, love, a man who was a star.  It’s origin is Sioux — I don’t know if that’s Lakota or Dakota or Nakota.  All three are Sioux, just different dialects.  By the way this story comes to us from the book, Favorite North American Indian Legends, printed by Dover.  Before I start, I wanted to say that this story reminds me of a legend from one of my books, Soaring Eagle’s Embrace, which is now in e-books.  Although the story of Soaring Eagle’s Embrace is based on a similar legend as the one I’m telling you today, it is a little different.  Mainly in Soaring Eagle’s Embrace, it was the young man who fell in love with a star.  Okay, that said, let’s pretend we are sitting around a fire in a warm, warm teepee.  The scent of smoke is strong in the air, and loved ones surround us as we wrap ourselves in warm blankets.  And so the storyteller begins:

Long ago, there were two sisters, one whose name was Earth and the other’s name was Water.  This was at a time when all people and animals were in close communication with each other and so the animals supplied the sisters with all their needs.

 One night the sky was clear and beautiful and both sisters looked up to the sky through their wigwam — comment, now we know that this was most likely the Dakota since they were living in Wigwams — anyway, they looked up through the hole in their wigwam and admired the beautiful stars.

Earth said to her sister that she’d had a dream about a handsome young man and that she thought he might be a star.  Water responded saying that she, too, had seen a man in her dreams who was a brave man.

The sisters chose stars that they thought might be these men that they had dreamed of.  Water chose the brightest star for her husband.  Earth chose a little star that twinkled.

Then they slept.  When they awoke, they were in the land of the Sky.  The stars were, indeed, people.  Now it happened that the man that water chose was an older warrior and that the man that Earth chose was a young, handsome man.  Both sisters married these men and they were very happy.

One day the sisters went out onto the plains to dig turnips (a much favored food at this time in history).  Both of their husbands warned them not to strike the ground too hard.  But Earth, in her haste to dig the turnips, struck the ground so hard. she fell through the sky to the ground.

Earth was found and cared for by two older people who tried to help her.  But she was so upset about losing her husband that all she did is cry.  She could not even see her husband in the sky because he had blackened his face because he was now a widower.  Earth waited and waited for him to come to her, but he could not.  However, he did give her a most precious gift.

That night when she went to sleep, she dreamed of a beautiful red star.  It had never been in the sky before.  She knew at once that it was her son.

When she awoke, she found a handsome boy by her side — her son.  Although Earth’s husband could not come to rescue her, and though he loved his son deeply, he gave to his wife the only gift that he could — their son, Star Boy.  It was a gift from his heart..

‘Tis the season of giving.  I hope you have enjoyed these stories, short and simple though they may be.

If you have been following our Yee-Haw Day blog, you might know that I have five books on sale for $.99. And they will remain on sale throughout the holiday season.  I’ll list them here in short form.

The Eagle and the Flame

tinyurl.com/2p89zfhy

 

The Princess and the Wolf

https://tinyurl.com/qt6lhqy

 

Brave Wolf and the Lady

https://tinyurl.com/t5kl35b

 

 

Black Eagle

https://tinyurl.com/vyygnvn

 

Seneca Surrender

https://tinyurl.com/wjj49nk

 

 

From our home to yours, a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

LAKOTA PRINCESS, Anniversary Edition, Excerpt & Give-away

Howdy!

Welcome to a wacky Wednesday.  Well, not too wacky.

LAKOTA PRINCESS, the 25th Anniversary Edition, is just out in e-book and print.  The book has been re-edited and an updated Anniversary Edition cover given to it and best of all, it’s on sale for $.99.  Yay!

Let me tell you a little about this unusual “Western” romance.  First, it’s set in England.  So, we brought the West to that little island empire, England.  Next, it’s set during the Regency period (early 1800’s) and so it has a bit of that time period within its pages, as well as the customs of the Lakota Indians before the Europeans came into their country and changed things.  Then, it also entails some interesting facts about the Royal Family, and indeed, the Royal Family becomes a character — so to speak — in the book.

Hope you’ll enjoy the following blurb and excerpt:

A love that defies the ocean.  A secret deeper than blood.

 Lakota Princess, Book 3

Driven from her home in England by hostile political forces, Estrela was little more than a girl when she came to be raised by a far western Lakota tribe.  On the wide, sweeping plains she grew tall and strong, and won the love of a handsome warrior.

But on the eve of their marriage, she is torn away from her native family, torn from the man she loves, and forced to return to a place that feels more like a foreign country than her home.  There she merely exists, haunted by her love’s sweet kisses and heated embrace, yearning for his unforgettable touch.

Black Bear has braved the ocean to find the woman whose beauty has captured his soul.  But no sooner has he arrived in England than he is called upon to save her life.  Who in their right mind would want to murder such a gentle spirit?

As Black Bear comes between her and death time after time, Estrela wishes they could both just disappear back to the plains, and bury the secret she has long hidden –- even from him.  A secret from which only their love, truer than blood, can save them.

Warning:  Sensuous romance that contains separated lovers who will let nothing come between them…not oceans, her mysterious past, or a murderer bent on destroying their future.

LAKOTA PRINCESS, an Excerpt

by

Karen Kay

She wore the pink, transparent creation into the breakfast parlor after all, and was rewarded for her efforts by a frown from Black Bear. The gown’s lines trailed downward from an empire waist, and Estrela smoothed the outer filmy material down with a self-conscious gesture of her hand. She hadn’t wetted down the undergarments as was the current custom, it being thought by those who ruled fashion that if the material beneath looked wet, it would allude more to the feminine form; something which, it would appear, was most desirable.

Her shoes of soft, pink satin peeked out beneath the hemline of the dress as Estrela paced forward, and all at once, she felt the heat of Black Bear’s piercing scowl.

She peered down at herself. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t wetted down the undergarments; the dress still made her look practically nude. She looked up then, and away, her cheeks awash with unbecoming warmth; she felt suddenly inadequate.

It also didn’t help, she realized, when she looked at the other women seated around the breakfast table and found them to be dressed in a much more risqué fashion than she. They didn’t appear to bother Black Bear.

He scowled at her alone.

She advanced into the room.

“Ah, Lady Estrela.” The Duke of Colchester arose from his seat and smiled at her. “So good to see you this morning. Did you enjoy your morning of exercise?”

“Yes, Sir, I did,” she replied, sweeping her lashes down over her eyes to study the Duke without his knowledge. The man had been most kind to her. Did he mean more by his question? She couldn’t tell.

“Ah,” the Duke continued. “I must admit that I was concerned after that dreadful event yesterday. But, I see that you have recovered most splendidly. Jolly good of you to join us, I say.”

Estrela smiled. “Thank you, Sir,” she replied, and, treading down the long length of the breakfast table, took the seat that a servant held out for her.

She smiled at the servant, then at the Duke as he, too, sat down.

She glanced around the table noting that the Duchess of Colchester chatted gaily with her daughters and with Black Bear, who, after his initial glare at Estrela, hadn’t looked again in her direction.

There were other people here, too, women she did not recognize and a few other men. The Royal Duke of Windwright must have spent the night, for he sat just opposite her at the table.

He glanced at her now, and, clearing his throat, said, “So good of you to join us, Lady Estrela. I say, did you sleep well?”

Estrela smiled at him. “Yes,” she said, “quite well, thank you.”

Black Bear glowered at her down the length of the table, but he said nothing and Estrela wondered if Black Bear intended to discipline her—and if he did, what form would it take?

Well, she wouldn’t think of it now. She had done the right thing for him. In time, he would see this. She only wished that time would elapse quickly.

“I daresay, old man,” the Duke of Windwright addressed the Duke of Colchester. “Must retire to the country soon now that Parliament is out of session. Can’t afford to miss the fox hunt, you know.”

The Duke of Colchester chewed upon a long cigar, not daring to smoke it in the presence of ladies. As it was he bordered on committing a social faux pas just by bringing a cigar into the same room as a lady.

He leaned forward across the table and leered at the other Duke. “I say,” the Duke of Colchester said, “geese are in season now. Do you fancy hunting geese? Could make a trip to the country, we could. I say, there, Black Bear.” He turned his attention to the Indian. “Have you ever hunted geese?”

Black Bear glanced down the table, glaring first at Estrela, then turning his solemn gaze upon the Duke. He didn’t smile and his features revealed nothing at all. At length, he said, “Geese are many in my country. I have hunted them, yes.”

“Well, I say, old chap,” the Duke of Colchester said, “would you quite fancy taking to the country with us to hunt geese?”

Black Bear didn’t scowl, but he didn’t smile either. He stared at the Duke of Colchester, then at the Duke of Windwright. And, as he studied the two men, his brows narrowed. At length he answered, saying, “I would greatly honor the chance to hunt with you. But it is autumn, the season to make meat, and I think we would do better to hunt deer or elk so that the women can fill the food stores for the season when the babies cry for food. Does your country have—tatá?ka—buffalo?”

“Make meat?” It was the Duke of Windwright who spoke.“I daresay we have no buffalo, my fine fellow, but the deer are aplenty and we could hunt them, too; however, shooting geese or any fowl is more the sport this time of year.”

The Indian nodded. “Then we will hunt geese,” he said, returning his grimace once more to Estrela.

Estrela glanced away.

And Black Bear, after a quick survey of the people sitting around the table said into the quietness of the room, “There is old Indian legend told in my country about geese.”

“Is there?” It was the Duchess of Colchester who spoke. “Oh, how exciting. Won’t you tell it to us, please?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh, do tell us.”

Black Bear smiled, and, shooting Estrela one last glare, began, “It is said that—”

“I say, young fellow,” the Duke of Windwright interrupted, “what is ‘making meat’?”

Black Bear’s gaze leaped to the Duke.

“Oh, do be quiet,” the Duchess of Colchester said, perhaps without thinking first. “Can’t you tell that…?” She stopped, and, glancing quickly at the Royal Duke, carried on, “Oh, so sorry, Your Grace. It’s only that the Indian is telling us a story and I thought that you were my husband or that—I mean—perhaps I—”

“’Making meat,’” Estrela spoke up, thereby “saving” the Duchess, “refers to the necessity in an Indian camp to ensure there is enough food in store to get the people through even the harshest of winters. Usually in the fall, there is one last buffalo hunt during which the women will take what meat they get and dry it and pound it into wasná, which is a mixture of pounded meat, fat, and chokecherries. It is an important venture since, if there is not enough food to get through the winter, the people will starve.”

Estrela glanced at Black Bear, and nodding, returned her attention to her breakfast.

The Duke of Windwright snorted.

The Duchess of Colchester fluttered her eyelashes and her husband, the Duke of Colchester, brought his attention onto the Indian.

“I say,” the Duke of Colchester started, “I believe I would like you to tell that story you were about to begin—the one about the geese.”

“Oh, by all means.”

“Please do continue.”

“We want to hear it.”

Black Bear smiled. “There is a legend,” he said, relaxing back into his chair, “about the geese in my camp. For you see, the geese tell us much.” He gazed at the Duchess a moment before sweeping his attention around the table. And, seemingly satisfied, he fixed his glance once more upon Estrela, his stare a sulky glower. “Those birds’ habits announce the season change,” he continued, “and we look upon the geese as good food when there is no buffalo to feed our women and children. But, their meat has too much fat, though the taste—good.” He paused, and, with his glance clearly on Estrela, said, “It is well known that geese mate for life, something a wise person will study.”

Estrela choked on the bit of sausage she had just swallowed while the Duchess of Colchester exclaimed, “Oh, how endearing. Tell us more!”

“Yes, please, tell us.” The women’s enthusiastic voices re-echoed the plea around the table.

And Black Bear, ever ready to continue, said, “This story is about the female goose who could not select just one mate.” He stared directly at Estrela, who, in turn, moaned, closing her eyes.

Obviously enjoying her reaction, he continued, “Once there was a family of geese.”

“I say, young man.” It was the Duke of Windwright speaking again. “Do you force your women to work, then? You have no servants, no slaves? You make your women—”

“Your Grace,” the Duke of Colchester interjected. “This young man is trying to tell us a story. Perhaps you could ask your questions later.”

“So sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s only that—well, who would hear of it, after all? Forcing women into physical labor? I mean, after all, are all their women merely servants?”

“The women,” Estrela spoke up, if for no other reason than to stall for time, “work, but the work is not great and there is much time to talk and to tease. Mayhap one could compare it to the fine ladies at work over needlepoint.”

And, although the Duke of Windwright merely “humphed,” and scoffed, he said no more.

“Black Bear—please.”

“Yes, do continue.”

He smiled. “Most geese have many children,” he said, satisfied, “all of them dedicated to the continuation of their race, and…”

Estrela glanced away, trying to concentrate on something else besides Black Bear. She knew the story was told for her benefit, alone. He believed he spoke about her; this form of storytelling was probably one of the more severe forms of discipline he would administer. The Indian, regardless of Western belief, rarely punished his children. Estrela realized that most people who did not know the Indian in his own territory, did not understand Indian logic: that he did not scold his children, did not physically punish them in any way, and did not even raise his voice to a child, a mild look of disapproval sufficing to correct any bad behavior.

“…but this female bird was beautiful, her feathers most fine, more colorful than any other, her squawk more pleasing to the ear,” Black Bear was saying. “She did not wish to have only one mate, it is said, and she did not feel she should be confined to merely one husband. Nor did she have to. There were several young ganders who sought to have her under any condition.”

Estrela moaned.

And, Black Bear did not take his gaze from her.

“There was one gander, one male who loved her more than any other…”

“Why don’t you,” the Duke of Windwright cut in, “hunt for two or three years at a time, or raise the animals for slaughter, or…”

All the rest of the table groaned except for Estrela, who was only too glad for the interruption.

“The Indian does not wish to disturb the balance of nature,” Estrela said. “And so, he takes only what he needs and leaves the rest.”

“Bad show, I say. Jolly bad show.”

“Yes,” she said, “we could discuss the economics of the Indians and—”

“Wí?ya? Ho Wa?té,” Black Bear snapped at her. “I am telling a story.”

“Yes, well, I—”

“Please continue.”

“I want to hear more.”

“Yes, pray, finish your story.”

Black Bear grinned, the gesture not sitting well with Estrela. “The goose,” he carried on, “the beautiful goose could not decide on just one gander. And, the one who loved her most of all was but one among the many and she wanted many. And so, she took many to her, not realizing that the gander seeks only one mate.”

He paused, and his focus on Estrela was such that he didn’t even notice the gasps from around the table at so delicate a subject.

But no one stopped him. All, except the Duke of Windwright, seemed entranced with him. And, whether it was his deep baritone or the unusual content of the story that mesmerized them, Estrela could not tell. She only knew that he held the attention of most all seated around the table.

“Yes, she had many,” he continued.

“Bad show, I say,” the Duke of Windwright spoke. “Jolly bad show, making your women work—actually work—why I’ve never heard of such a thing—except servants, of course, but then—”

“The gander,” Black Bear continued as though the Duke weren’t at that moment speaking, “will allow no competition with the mate that he seeks and so one by one the males vying for this beautiful goose’s favor fought among themselves until not one male bird lived. And, she looked in vain for the one gander who had loved her more than any other. But, he had gone to seek his mate elsewhere believing that she, like the sparrow, could not be satisfied with only one mate. And so died out her race, not because of man hunting her, not because of the wolf or bear who would seek her meat, but only because the female goose sought to have more than one mate.”

He paused and glanced around the table. “And so it is,” he said to his entranced audience, “that we learn from the geese that a woman must seek only one husband. And, the more beautiful the bird, the more careful she must be to ensure she chooses only the one.”

“Dare I ask, young man,” the Duke of Windwright plowed right in, “are all your women servants?”

Black Bear ignored the Duke as did the others.

“Oh, that was lovely.”

“Tell us more!”

“Yes, please, more!”

Black Bear held up a hand. “I will gladly tell another story tomorrow at the morning meal, if you are all here again.”

And, while exclamations of joy and wonder resounded around the table, Estrela groaned.

It would be the same story, told again, a bit differently, said over and over until Black Bear determined that she’d been suitably chastised.

And, Estrela made a mental note to ensure she missed each breakfast meal in the future.

“Well, it is my belief,” the Duke of Windwright carried on, “that the Indians must be saved from themselves. Yes, I believe that—”

“I think the gander acted most irrationally.” Estrela’s quiet statement, said amid the Duke’s meanderings, had the effect of silencing all other chatter at the table, including the Duke’s, and, as Estrela glanced down the table’s length to peer at Black Bear, she noted that every single pair of eyes were turned on her.

“And what would you have him do?” Black Bear asked, each person at the table looking to him. “Wait until the silly goose decided she wanted him more than any other?”

“He could have waited,” Estrela countered, recapturing the attention of everyone present. “Had he truly loved her, he would have waited.”

“Waited for what? She was taken. Before he even had a chance to take her, she was taken.”

“Who was taken?” the Duchess of Colchester intervened. “Did I miss something in the story?”

“He could have understood,” Estrela replied.

“Understood what?” the Duchess interrupted.

Black Bear nodded in agreement, repeating, “Understood what?”

Estrela snorted. “If he believed in her, he would have known—he just would have known.”

“He’s a bird,” Black Bear said. “He’s incapable of thinking.”

“Known what?” It was the Duchess who spoke.

“Then why tell the story if the gander is such a fool?” Estrela asked.

All heads turned back toward Black Bear.

“Because the story has a moral,” Black Bear said, each word clipped. “We are supposed to learn from such a story. Most people do unless they have the morals of a sparrow.”

Estrela flushed, and, looking down the length of the table, saw that each person present gazed at her as though they watched a fox surrounded by hounds.

“Well,” she said, “I think you should pick a more intelligent bird in the future, unless you want your characters to act so…so…stupidly.”

And with this said, she jumped from the table, upsetting her plate and knocking over her cup of tea.

“Oh! See what you’ve done?” she addressed Black Bear.

“I’ve done… You are the one who—”

“How could you?” Estrela threw down her napkin just as a servant came up behind her. “Why don’t you use swans next time, or wolves—at least they have a certain intelligence that I find sadly lacking in the gander.”

She spun about, upsetting the servant, his tray of food and the tea. But the servant was well-trained and caught the tray before any damage could be done.

Black Bear watched her leave, but only for a moment before he, too, arose. And, though his movements were slower than Estrela’s, he still moved quickly to follow her.

Too quickly.

The servant stood behind him. The tray of food and tea crashed to the floor, most of its contents spilling innocently, except for the tea, of course, which landed on the Duchess of Colchester.

And as she, too, jumped to her feet, wiping at her dress and holding it away from her, one could hear her say to an oddly silent room, “Oh my, oh my, did I miss something from that story?”

The only response to her question was complete and utter silence.

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The Abduction and Murder of Pocahontas, Part ll

Howdy!

And a happy Tuesday to you!  Hope y’all are doing well and I hope you’ll find the blog today fascinating.

Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that I’ll be giving away the free e-book, WAR CLOUD’S PASSION today, thus, I’ll do it here at the start of today’s blog.  Today’s blog could be a bit long, so let’s get right to it.

In my last blog last month, I tried to give an overview and an idea of how Pocahontas came to be familiar with the English colonists and how they had come to know her.  If you missed that post, you can do a search  under “The Abduction and Murder of Pocahontas,” and it will come up for you to read. 

Okay, that said, let’s look at where I left off in my last post, which was with Pocahontas coming of age and I promised to tell you about her marriage to Kocoum, as well as her abduction by a few of the colonists, and the rather sordid details of her subsequent marriage to John Rolfe.  It may take me more than this post to fill in all those holes.  But let’s at least start with how she might have met her husband, Kocoum.

In the Powhatan society, a young girl and boy’s coming of age is celebrated, and it was no different for Pocahontas.  However, because there was a rumor of an abduction planned for Pocahontas, her ceremony was limited to special friends and family only.  There is a special dance called the courtship dance during which male warriors search the dancers for a mate.  This is probably where their courtship began.  After a time, they were married.  Kocoum was an elite warrior.  He was among 50 of the top warriors that guarded the capital of the Powhatan confederacy.  He was also the younger brother of Wahunsenaca’s, a friend of Pocahontas’ father, Chief Japazaw.  Because the priests (called quiakros) feared that the colonists plotted to kidnap Pocahontas, the couple went to live in Kocoum’s home, which was isolated from the colonists and farther north.  She was, in fact, being hidden from the English.  Kocoum and Pocahontas had a child, little Kocoum, a boy.  It was Captain Samuel Argall, an English colonist, who accomplished the feat of kidnapping Pocahontas.

Please excuse me as I pause from my story momentarily to tell you of a movie I once watched where it rendered that Pocahontas and her father had a falling out and that he had banished her from the tribe, thus she had taken up with the English.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Pocahontas was a princess, dearly beloved by her father.  She was also married to Kocoum and had a child by him.  Never would she have been banished from the tribe.  That movie did nothing but further the false information about this very brave woman.  That said, back to Captain Argall.  Why did he wish to capture Pocahontas?  Why did he take such extreme measures, for he certainly did.  Once he had learned of her hiding place, he gathered together not only men, but weapons and arms to attempt her capture.  But why?

Let’s speculate.  Do you remember from my previous post that the English colonists were looting the Powhatan villages of their stores of food.  They were also raping their women and children and oftentimes stealing their women and children in order to make them servants for the English. Sometimes I wonder at the foolishness of sending only men to the colonies.  It only courted trouble.  But I digress.  Perhaps he simply wanted her as his woman.  But I don’t think so.  I think the reason is much more complex and includes money and greed.  The Powhatan had many diverse and rich agricultural fields. There were no trees to cut, no land to clear.  In order to take the land, all the colonists had to do was destroy the village and take the land — it seemed this was considered easier than clearing the land.  This the colonists did and they expected retribution from the very powerful Powhatan tribe because of it.  The tribe might have done this.  But they chose not to because Wahunsenaca considered the English a branch of his tribe.  Though the abuses were numerous, he still sought other ways to deal with the problem, rather than killing the colonists outright. 

Through trickery and deceit, Captain Argall managed to get Pocahontas onto his ship.  She was supposed to be returned.  She never was.  She was held for ransom.  What Captain Argall demanded from Pocohontas’ father was:   a) the return of English weapons that had been taken from Jamestown, b) the return of the English prisoners Washunsenaca held captive and c) a shipment of corn.  Washunsenaca  paid the ransom at once.  In fact Argall writes of the transaction in his log in 1613, “This news much grieved this great king (Wahunsenaca), yet without delay he returned the messenger with this answer, that he desired me to use his daughter well, and bring my ship into his river (Pamunkey), and there he would give me my demands; which being performed, I should deliver him his daugher, and we should be friends.”  Although Wahunsenaca quickly carried out the ransom demands, Pocahontas was never released.  images27According to the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, by Dr. Linwood “little Bear” Custalow and Angela L. Daniel “Silver Star,” “…oral history states that before Argall took sail (back to Jamestown), several of Argall’s men returned to Pocahontas’ home and killed her husband, Kocoum.”  It was tradition that he would have come for her and rescued her, something that Argall could not permit.  Little Kocoum survived because upon Pocahontas’ capture, he was put into the care of several of the women of the tribe.  As an aside, there are still many descendents of Kocoum who are alive and well to this day.  You may again wonder why the Powhatan didn’t retaliate.  Part of that is Pocahontas’s father’s fear for her life if he were to do so, the other reason he didn’t attack is because of a tribal custom — part of the cultural foundation of the tribe, which was that of appeasing evil.  If one could, one always sought a balance between submitting to evil demands and preventing the loss of life.  Even so, the quiakros  (priests) of the tribe advised a swift retaliation, but Wahunsenaca would not do it, fearing for his daughter’s life.

One of Pocahontas’ elder sisters, Mattachanna, and her husband, Uttamattamakin, who was also a priest, were allowed to visit Pocahontas during her captivity.  Oral tradition is very distinct on the fact that Pocahontas confided that she had been raped and worse,  she suspected she was pregnant.  Again, rape was unheard of in Powhatan society.  Interestingly, shortly after this confession to her sister, Pocahontas was quickly converted to Christianity in order to rush her into marriage.  At this time, it would have been inconceivable for a Christian man to marry anyone who was not Christian.  It is also supposed that Sir Thomas Dale was actually the biological father of Pocahontas’s child, since, according to scholars William M.S. Rasmussen and Robert S. Tilton, it was Thomas Dale who was most closely linked to Pocahontas during her kidnapping.  Note also that her son’s name was not “John,” but rather “Thomas.”  It would also explain why Rolfe (who was secretary of the colony at the time) did not record the birth of Thomas.

smlrolfe2Was the marriage one of love?  Oral history casts doubt on this.  She had just lost her husband, was separated from the father she loved, had given birth to a child from an incident she described as rape, and was rushed into marriage in order to make it appear that the birth had taken place after the marriage.  Plus, she was not free to live her own life.  She could not come and go as her leisure.  Did John Rolfe love her?  In a letter to Dale, Rolfe refers to her as a “creature,” not a “woman.”  But regardless, whether they loved one another or not, they were married and Rolfe became the heir to the friendliness of the Powhatan people, which included their knowledge of the tobacco plant and how it was processed.  Here is where the unsavory aspects of money and greed enter into the equation.  The Virgina company wasn’t doing well.  There was no gold in the New World, there was no silver, no gems, nothing to make the venture successful.  There just  had to some way to make the colony prosperous.  Would the tobacco plant become their claim to fame?

It seems likely that this might have been their intentions.  Rolfe had left England in 1609 with the goal of making a profit growing and processing tobacco.  He arrived in 1610 and for three years, he had been unsuccessful at both growing the tobacco and in the processing of it.  The year 1616 was the “deadline for the initial investments in the Virginia colony.” From the book THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, it appears that time was running out.  The colony was failing.  And Rolfe’s crop was failing.  Thus, Rolfe himself was failing.  What was he to do?

Stay tuned.   We’ve gone over her abduction now.  Next month, I hope to answer the questions of what possible motive John Rolfe, Captain Argall and Thomas Dale might have had for kidnapping Pocohontas.  And then marrying her.  Then there’s the question of who killed her?  And why?  What could her death have accomplished?  Most of all, however, how was the deed accomplished and covered up so thoroughly?  To the point where it was believed that she had died of small pox?  

So come on back next month for the conclusion of The Murder and Abduction of Pocohontas.

Am hoping that you’ll come in an tell me your thoughts about this very real American legend.

The Abduction and Murder of Pocahontas

Howdy!

So, today, I thought I’d tackle a subject of some interest, since this woman is actually a great American heroine.  I’m talking about Pocahontas.  And, I’ll be giving away a free copy of THE ANGEL AND THE WARRIOR today.  Just look off to the right here, please, for the rules regarding out give-aways.

Before I start, let me ask you a question:  Do you believe the Disney story of Pocahontas?  Or some version of it?

I did, well at least I did until I did some research into the actual story of Pocahontas.  So, if you don’t mind dropping down a rabbit hole, come along with me in this fascinating subject that has been given a spin so as to cover up an actual murder of this true, American heroine.

Pocahontas’ real name, by the way, was Matoaka — which means “flower between two streams.  Now, before I go on, let me do a disclaimer: this post in no way pretends to “know it all,” about this very definite heroine, but I think we might be able to set the story straight, at least a little.

To the left here is probably the most true picture (painting) that we have of Pocahontas.  Now, this will probably be the subject of two or three blogs, simply because there’s just too much info to get into one blog.  The information that I’m going to be telling you about comes from the book THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTES, by Dr. Linwood “Little Bear” Custalow and Angela L;. Daniel “Silver Star.”  This story that I’m about to present to you is one that is the story that has been passed down orally for hundreds of years by the priests of the Powhatan tribe (Pocahontas’ tribe).  It is the story of Pocahontas as told by her own people.  It is the story passed down by the tribe’s quiakros — or the chosen few of the tribe, who have spent their lives in learning.  One fact that I’m going to say here at the start of this post, mostly because it fascinated me, is that Pocahontas did not die of something.  She died for something.  And, she did not die of smallpox as is generally reported.  She was murdered.

But, as is said in Blackfeet Country, I get ahead of myself.  Let’s continue.  Pocahontas was indeed a princess.  She was born to the paramount chief, Chief Powhatan Wahunsenaca.  She was born to Wahunsenaca’s first wife, the wife of  his heart late in life.  Her mother died giving birth to her — and interestingly enough, her mother’s name was Pocahontas.  Wahunsenaca had truly loved his wife and when she died, he showered the love that he’d had for her upon his newborn child.  Pocahontas means, by the way “Laughing and joyous one.”  As mentioned in the book, the story of Pocahontas is a story of love — not the love between her and John Smith — but rather the story of a father and daughter’s love for one another and for their people.  Pocahontas had many older brothers and sisters — many were already married so that caring for the young child was not a problem.  She grew up being nursed by several different women of the tribe, which according to the book, might be one reason why her ties to her people were so strong.

To the left here is the more European version of the above painting of Pocahontas and her child.  Notice the smiles painted on the faces and the lack of dark circles under her eyes.

Pocahontas was only 10 years old when the colonists stared to arrive in 1607.  Because she was the daughter of the paramount chief, she was watched over very, very closely.  No running around wild for her.  Captain John Smith was 27 years old when he arrived in the New World.  The Powhatan tribe was made up of 6 different tribes, with other tribes in its alliance, as well.  There were other chiefs, but Powhatan Wahunsenaca was the paramount chief.  They all spoke the Algonquain language.  Part of the politics of the day was to bring into the tribe an alliance with other peoples and other tribes.  Thus, although the Powhatan could have destroyed the colonists at any time, they did not.  Instead, they sought to ally the newcomers to them.  Perhaps, looking back on history, this was their true mistake.

John Smith — about 6 months after their arrival in the New World — went to explore the countryside.  Warriors out hunting for food, discovered him and his party and after a skirmish ensued, Smith was taken captive.  Because the English used “thunder sticks” to kill the Indians, the people were afeared of them and were beginning to think of the English as though they were a deity.  This next is from the book quoted above — I found it highly interesting:  “Smith would pretend to come into a village in a friendly manner.  When he was in close proximity to the chief of the village, he would put his pistol to the chief’s head, demanding a ransom of food in exchange for the chief’s release.  Smith and his men would proceed to take all the corn and food in the village.  As they left, Smith would throw down a few blue beads, claiming to have “traded” with the Powhatan people.”

Does that sound like a man that a young girl would fall in love with?  When Smith was taken to Wahunsenaca, it is uncertain whether Pocahontas met Smith at this time or not.  Wahunsenaca asked John Smith why the English had come here, to which John Smith replied that they had come to this land to escape the Spanish.  Now, the Indians of this country had some trouble with the Spanish, already.  In fact they called the Spanish, “sons of the devil..”  Remember that Spanish ships would patrol the coasts of the Atlantic coast, sometimes capturing Native people.  Relations between the Spanish and the Powhatan were hostile.  A little known fact:  the word “Indian” does not come from Columbus’ error.  Rather it comes from the Spanish word, “indio” meaning to walk with God.  I like that meaning.

It is said that Wahunsenaca truly liked John Smith.  It was his plan to bring John Smith into the tribe and make him part of the tribe in an effort to consolidate their friendship against the Spanish.  Then if the Spanish did come in, they would be faced with the English-Powhatan people.  According to Pocahontas’ people, “Although Smith alleged years later that Pocahontas saved his life during the four-day ceremony in the process of his being made a Powhatan werowance, his life was never in danger.  His life did not need saving.”  A werowance was a commander — male.  Also, at this time, Pocahontas was a child.  Children were not allowed to attend these kinds of ceremony.  The priests would not have allowed Pocahontas to be at the ceremony.  After the ceremony, not only was John Smith considered to be a member of the Powhatan tribe, but the entire English colony was considered to be members, too.

In fact, when Smith returned to the English fort, it was the English who tried to kill him.  He was put on trial and was sentenced to death.  It was Christopher Newport’s arrival in the colony that saved John Smith.

Because the English were now considered part of the tribe, Wahunsenaca sent envoys with food to the Jamestown colony.  Because he now trusted John Smith, he allowed his favorite daughter, Pocahontas, to accompany the envoy.  Although she was closely watched and chaperoned during these excursions, the colonists became familiar with her, and they associated Pocahontas with the food — not the powerful chief who was in fact sending it.  Thus, the rumor that Pocahontas brought food to the colonists against her father’s will, is dispelled as untrue.

What Pocahontas was at this time was a symbol of peace.  She was not a spy as some historians have liked to believe.  It was during the summer of 1609 that relations between the Powhatan tribe and the English began to deteriorate.  Smith entered into villages rudely and with full arms, demanding and taking food.  In some instances, he left the Powhatans with no food for the winter.   As a matter of fact, this is the speech preserved that Wahunsenaca said to Smith. 

“Why do you take by force (that which) you may quickly have by love?  Or to destroy them that provide you food?  What can you get by war when we can hide our provision and fly to the woods?”  Yet John Smith continued to force arms upon the villages in order to take all their food stores, again leaving behind a few beads as though he had traded for the supplies.  Maybe he was simply a bully and it’s all he knew.  Smith continued to allege that Wahunsenaca wanted to kill him.  However, if this were true, it would have been done without apology or explanation.  Yet, it wasn’t.  Why?  Because Smith was considered to be part of the tribe.

Danger came to the Powhatan tribes in the form of rape.  In Powhatan society, the children went naked in the summer and women were bare-breasted.  It was part of their dress, and did not excite the men in particular because it was such a common sight.  Rape was not permitted in Powhatan society.  Often the women of the tribe would offer themselves to the English to prevent them from raping their children.  Because the English had guns, this was all they could do.  Whenever the English would come to the village, the elders would often take the children and hide them in the woods.  As more and more English colonists arrived, the atrocities began to grow.  Children were often taken to be slaves to the English.  The women were simply raped.  The Powhatan became shocked at the behavior of the English and set up guards to determine when they were coming to their villages.  For their own part, the English kept expecting some sort of retribution by the Powhatan.  Neither Wahunsenaca nor Pocahontas had seen John Smith since 1609 and they were told that he was dead.  Wahunsenaca discontinued allowing Pocahontas to go to Jamestown.  It was no longer safe.

smlkocoum1Well, that’s all we have time and space for today.  I hope you’ll bear with me and come seek out my post next month as I’ll be discussing Pocahontas’s coming of age.  Her marriage to Kocoum, her abduction and her subsequent marriage to John Rolfe.  And last but not least, her murder.  Why she was murdered and who did the deed, or at least who was responsible for it.  Facts, all.  Facts that have been hidden all these years which have only recently been brought to light by the people of Pocahontas’s own tribe.  I hope you have enjoyed this excursion into history and a look at this very brave heroine.  The enormity of her bravery and what she gave up and its cost to her, we’ll go over in my next post (Lord willing).

So, what do you think?  Did you already know this, or does this shed a different light on history.  It is said, that what is written of history is written by the victors.  This has, indeed, been true in the case of Pocahontas.  Thank heaven for oral tradition and keeping the truth alive against all odds.  So come on in and tell me what you think.   I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.