IRON WOLF’S BRIDE — Free E-book Giveaway & Excerpt

Howdy!

Welcome to another terrific Tuesday.

Hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday and are happy to be beginning a New Year.  Here’s a hope and a wish that this year will be so very much better than last year.

IRON WOLF’S BRIDE, second in The Wild West Series, is a new release for me.  Set within Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Shows, Iron Wolf’s Bride encompasses two continents, both America and England.

I’ll be giving away a free e-book of IRON WOLF’S BRIDE to a couple of bloggers (2 bloggers).  So do consider leaving a comment, since this is how one enters into the drawing.  We have guidelines, by the way, for our giveaways — you can see them off to the top right here.

So here we go:  I’m going to post the back cover blurb of the book and then an excerpt.  Hope you’ll enjoy both.

IRON WOLF’S BRIDE

by 

Karen Kay

I will return to you, my love…

Jane Glenforest’s father believed she was too young to marry, so he’d stolen her and her newborn son away from the handsome Assiniboine Indian she’d wed and taken her to Surrey, England. In spite of divorce papers and rumors he’s wed another, Jane’s never forgotten the man who’d stolen her heart and given her son legitimacy. When Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show comes to England—bringing her ex-husband with it—Jane’s curious to see her lost love, in spite of her new fiancé.

Although Iron Wolf’s purpose in working for Bill Cody’s Wild West show is to fulfill his father’s vision to find and stop a deceiver, he fell in love with and married Jane Glenforest.  But, no sooner had Jane given birth than her father stole her away.  Now, a few years later, Iron Wolf is arriving in England with the hope of rekindling the love he once shared with Jane.  However, instead of love, he finds his wife loathes him, believing he has married another.  And, when he discovers she is engaged to another man, he declares war on both her and the fiancé.

But when their son is kidnapped, Jane and Iron Wolf must work together to rescue him. And, as danger escalates, they discover trusting each other might be the only way to save their son.  Will Jane and Iron Wolf learn to forgive one another, to reignite the embers of a passion that never died, or will the lies of a deceiver destroy their love forever?

Warning:  Rediscovered love might cause sleepless nights spent in the arms of one’s true love.

Let me tell you a little about the book before I attach an excerpt.

As I said above IRON WOLF’S BRIDE is the second book in The Wild West Series, my newest series.

I’ve planned three books in this series and two of them are released, Book #1, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME and Book #2, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE.

The third book, BLUE THUNDER AND THE FLOWER, is a work in progress at present.

But let me tell you a little about this series.  It concerns three men,  who are part of the secret Society of the Wolf, The Clan of the Scout.  Two of the men are from the Assiniboine Indian Tribe and one is from the Lakota Tribe.  They are on a deadly serious mission.

The chief of the Assiniboine tribe has had a terrifying vision: that someone called the deceiver, or trickster, spells doom for the children of his tribe, and eventually for all Indians.  The old chief is desperate and enlists the aid of two young men from his own tribe and one young man from the Lakota tribe to join Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show.  He has been shown in a vision from the Creator that help for his people can be found if these three young men can become a part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show.  There, within the framework of the show, the old chief has been shown that he may appeal to the President of the United States — or his representative — for assistance; also, to find and stop the deceiver who means to harm the Indian Tribes.

Because traditionally scouts were the most trusted individuals within the tribe, the old chief appeals to two young men who are a part of that society.  One of them is his own son; another is a young man who is the most accurate shooter with the bow and arrow as well as a gun.  The third young man is to be found from the Lakota tribe.

These three young men become part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, and, in addition, they become one of the most popular events in the show, especially with the young ladies. But these three young men care very little about any fame or fortune that might be attached to being so popular. Their concern is to find and disable the trickster and all his associates, so as to free the next several generations of Native American children from harm.

Within this series of three stories, these young men — although not looking for love — discover true love along the path to discovering this real evil which is threatening their tribes.

Enjoy this excerpt of the book:

CHAPTER TWO

April, 1891

Earl’s Court Exhibition Grounds

London, England

 

Jane Glenforest felt as though her world was shattering.  How dare he.  How dare he come here.

Of course, she needn’t have bought the tickets to see the Wild West Show.  But, she’d been unable to resist the impulse to come here today to see if he were still with the show.  And, surely, there he was, surrounded by the usual crowd of women.

It still hurt.  Seeing him again only made the pain of what had happened between them worse.

Eventually, she’d have to go down there where he was, for her sister still worked with the show; indeed, her sister, Luci, was even now dressed as a boy.  Did this fact mean that she and Luci were still in danger?  Surely that was behind them now.  It had been two and a half, almost three years since the trouble.

Jane watched from a top section of the bleaching boards as her former husband and lover, as well as his two friends, wooed the feminine, English hearts.  He and his friends, having finished their athletic performances in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, were now engaging the crowd in a different skill: American Indian-style singing and dancing.

The three friends had taken up a position that was in front of and close up to the tiered bleaching boards.  Already, several of the young English women were leaving their seats, were filtering into the arena and joining the Indian women there.  Together, these two different groups of ladies formed a circle around the three performers.

And, there he was: Iron Wolf.  He stood in the middle between his two friends, Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder.  Wind Eagle was drumming on what appeared to be a buffalo-hide drum, which he held in his hand.  Blue Thunder shook two rattles.  Both Blue Thunder and Wind Eagle were singing, while Iron Wolf blew into his Indian-styled flute.  Feathers and strung beads hung from the instrument, which more resembled an English recorder than a flute.

She remembered that flute.  Iron Wolf had often played it for her, and once, over two and a half years ago, he had used it to make her smile when she’d felt downtrodden.

She watched Iron Wolf as he danced.  He was the only one of the three men who was dancing.  As the others were singing, Iron Wolf took a moment to swing around in a circle, then bent over at the waist, keeping time to the rhythm and looking as though he were a nineteenth-century Kokopelli, who was, of course, the ancient American Indian Casanova.

His dance was stimulating to her, although she was an unwilling recipient to the blatant sensuality of his movements.  Whether Iron Wolf intended it or not, the dance he was doing was not only exotic, it was erotic, and several of the women surrounding the three musicians were also bobbing up and down to the rhythm, looking as though they were part of the unusual performance.

Once again Jane wondered why he had come to England.  He didn’t have to come.  He could have stayed behind.

Didn’t he know she was here?  It wasn’t possible that he would not know, if only because their divorce papers listed her current residence as being in Surrey, England.  Was he so insensitive that he didn’t realize how much it would hurt her to see him again, to observe him flirting with other women, to witness him with his new wife?

Perhaps a better question would be to ask herself why she had come here.  Yes, good manners dictated that she visit with her sister, but she also needed to talk to Luci more seriously, if only to find out why her sister had never written.  Why had she never answered Jane’s many letters?

But, she hadn’t any real necessity to come to the show for that reason.  Not really.  She could have sent a note to Luci and her husband, Wind Eagle, inviting them to her uncle’s estate.

All at once, Iron Wolf unexpectedly jumped into the air, only to land in an athletic split upon the ground, and Jane recalled that this same man had once appeared to fly through the air in an effort to rescue her and their baby.  To her disappointment, his attempt had failed.

But, this was all in the past.  Once, not too long ago, he had loved her.  Once, she had loved him to distraction.  But their love was over now.  It was dead.

And, she had recovered from its extinction.  She’d had to, for she was raising her small son without Iron Wolf’s aid.  Indeed, her once-unconditional love for Iron Wolf had died about a year ago when he had divorced her.  It was that simple.

She had grieved for months, but had forced herself to move on with her life and had put her infatuation with Iron Wolf behind her.  Her future now lay with another.

Little Jeremy Iron Wolf, Jane’s son, laughed, his antics serving to bring Jane back to the present.  She glanced to her right where her friend and nanny, Marci Fox, sat.  Marci was holding Jeremy in her arms, while Jeremy wiggled his small fingers, entangling them in Marci’s long, nearly-black hair.

Jane smiled.  “Here, I’ll take him,” she said, as she moved to gather her son into her arms.  “I’m thinking we should be leaving soon.”

Marci nodded and grinned.  “Look at your son dance up and down to the drum.  Do you think he knows that he belongs in the Western culture on display down there?”

“No,” replied Jane, “although I admit I used to think this was so.  But not now.  Let’s go.”

“Yes.  Are you going to try to see your sister?”

“Not today.  Tomorrow perhaps.”

“But tomorrow you are to be married.  Will there be time?”

Jane bit her lip.  “Yes, well…  Perhaps you are right.  Will you come with me while I try to find my sister?”

“Of course.”

“Then, I suppose we should go down there,” Jane replied, then sighed.  “Mayhap, we might find someone who will lead us to her.  Maybe, too, I might invite her to dinner tonight….  Possibly…”

That’s all Jane would say on the subject for now.  But she did wonder why, in all this time, Luci had not written.  Like Iron Wolf, had Luci changed so much?

Well, there was nothing to do about it now.  Luci was here in London, and she was, after all, Jane’s sister.

Positioning young Jeremy on her hip, Jane rose up from her top seat beneath the white canvas awning covering the bleaching boards of the Wild West Show.  Stepping toward the stairs on the far side of the sitting arrangement, she carefully made her way down toward the arena.  That the bottom edge of her light-blue walking dress dragged on the steps, dirtying it, was, for the moment, forgotten.  What was more important was what her stomach was doing.  Her entire body was trembling.  Her stomach in particular felt as though butterflies had taken residence within it.

Would he see her?  Would he even recognize her?  He might not, since two years ago, Jane had been forced to wear a disguise.  At that time, Jane had managed her hair into a tight chignon, and she had worn a wig of long, dark hair whenever she was away from her sleeping quarters.  Yes, he had seen her as a blonde, but rarely, and mostly in the privacy of their bedroom.  She’d been pregnant then and he’d only been privy to a brief glimpse of her as a slim, young girl before her father had come and whisked her away.  Would he even know her now?

He might.  Unlike many men, Iron Wolf seemed unusually perceptive, attentive to the minutest detail in his environment.  He saw elements around him that another might miss.

Her light-blue hat, however, might cause him to pass her by, for it was wide brimmed, with feathers on top to give her small, five-foot-four figure more height.  It hid her face, also.

She inhaled deeply…for courage.

Having descended to ground level, she stepped forward onto the field of the arena.  The three young American Indian singers had not yet finished their performance, and Jane hoped she might be able to avoid detection as she glanced into the distance, her gaze searching for Luci.  However, it was not to be.

Her first indication that she had been recognized was when Marci touched her shoulder and said, “He comes, I fear.” 

There was no need to say who “he” was.  Apparently, he had detached himself from the rest of the performance, and Jane watched as Iron Wolf approached her.

Dear Lord, why did he have to look so handsome?  Tall, with a slim, muscular build and long legs, he sauntered toward her, his gait smooth and graceful, as though the mere act of walking were an art form.  His hair had come a little loose from where he usually clipped the two braids behind his head, and the Assiniboine-style “bangs” blew in the wind.  He wore dark-blue, cotton pants that fell to the ground and were long enough to almost cover his moccasins.  His breechcloth was white with blue, red and green beaded decoration, and his shirt was light blue.  A beaded, white vest was secured in front with what looked to be leather ties, and a white bandana was tied neatly around his neck.

Jane took another breath as her stomach alerted her to the danger coming toward her, and she realized with mounting dread that she was not immune to him.  She should be, but she wasn’t.

And she, who was to be married to another man tomorrow….

She pasted a smile on her face as she prepared herself to confront the man she had once loved with all her heart.

***

He had watched for her all through their performances this day; he had even counted on her being here, for he’d suspected that her father might have taken her to England.  Indeed, his antics today were for her benefit, alone.

He had despaired, though, when he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her in the crowd.  However, as he and his two friends had begun their singing, he had espied her, there in the top row of the seating arrangement.  All through their first singing performance, he had felt as though he had gobbled her up with his gaze.  Had she felt the intensity of his emotions?  Did she know that he played his flute for her?  That he wooed her with it?  That his dance was for her, and only for her?

His heart beat fiercely in his breast as he approached her now.  Two, almost three years ago, he had known her as a pregnant woman and she had been beautiful then, both in spirit and in body.  But to see her now, slim, holding their son on her hip…it was such a stunning sight, he was certain he would never forget it.

In many ways, it was hard to believe that she was his wife, for her beauty was unusual to his eye.  Small-boned, feminine and clothed as she was in the English style of dress, she looked calm, cool…and untouchable.  The light blue of her dress might complement her coloring of light skin and pink cheeks, but its color added to the illusion that there was no history between them.  She looked foreign, cool, out of reach.

All those years ago, her hair had been dark, almost black whenever she was in public.  He had come to learn that it was a wig she wore, that the true color of her hair was an unusual shade of white-yellow.  On her, the hair color was beautiful, although he had to admit that to him, it was still foreign to his eye.

He felt a stirring in his loins as he measured his steps toward her, and he marveled at the power of his attraction to her.  She was his wife, and, although their love had been left to simmer over the ashes of a two-and-a-half-year-old fire, he felt his hunger for her stirring again within him.

He stopped directly in front of her, and, as was Indian tradition, he simply looked at her.  It was a sign of respect he bestowed upon her, and he didn’t speak, nor did he extend a hand toward her.  He simply gazed at her, admiring her lovely face.

She looked up at him briefly, then glanced quickly away.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low and sweet, though within those tones, there was an air of hostility toward him.  She didn’t look back at him, leaving him to do little more than admire her attractive profile.

Although her words weren’t exactly welcoming, he yet felt heartened.  He was here and so was she.  They were, at last, together again.  He said, “I am happy to see you, my wife and my son.”

She did nothing in response at first and he watched as she swallowed hard before she gained her composure and uttered, “How dare you call me that.”

To say he was astonished by her tone of voice, as well as by her words, would have been an understatement, and it took him a moment to respond.  But at last, he asked, “Call you what?  I do not understand.  What did I say that you object to?”

“’Wife.’  That’s what I take offense to and you should know it.”

Clearly puzzled now, he asked, “Are you not my wife?”

“You know I am not.”

He had not expected her anger; sadness, perhaps, that he had not been able to find her sooner.  But antagonism bordering on what appeared to be disgust?  And, what did she mean that she wasn’t his wife?

He watched in surprise as a tear slipped down her cheek.  Why was she crying?  It seemed incomprehensible to him that she was so upset, especially because his emotions were intense and happy; he was, after all, reunited with her.  Yet, he could not deny that those were tears.  Reaching out a finger toward her, he traced the path of the tear’s salty wetness.

But she batted his hand away, saying, “Do not touch me!”

He nodded and took one step backward, and, by way of apology, he murmured, “I mean no assault.”

“Don’t do this!”

He said nothing.  He didn’t, however, avert his gaze from her, for she was truly angry with him.  Why?

“I am looking for my sister,” she stated after a pause; still she did not look at him.  “Do you know where I might be able to find her?”

“I do,” he answered calmly.  “If you follow me, I will take you to her.”

“I will not follow you anywhere, sir.  Simply tell me where she is, and I shall go there.”

“She is in the corral,” he told her without pause.  “But come, the time is long since we have seen or talked to one another.  Could we not take a moment to speak kind words to each other?  You are angry with me and I do not know why.  Perhaps if we share our thoughts with one another, we can renew our acquaintance.  But, if it is your wish to see your sister now, I would be honored to take you to her.”

“Don’t do this to me, Iron Wolf.  I will not go with you.  Is it your wish to parade that other woman in front of me?  Is that why you wish to accompany me?  No, I will not allow it.”

Iron Wolf realized at last that he was completely baffled.  He questioned, “Another woman?”

“Do you really expect me to say it?”

He could only stare at her, confused.

“Your other wife!  That is who I am speaking of.  Do you think I don’t know of her existence?  Did you believe that you could throw me away and marry another without my knowledge?”

“Throw you away?”

“Please, stop this.  I…I’ve seen the pictures of you with her.  Did you expect that I would not?  I also have our divorce papers that you signed.  So, do not pretend innocence with me.  I…I can say no more.”

Iron Wolf felt as though he were bedazzled.  True, he was confounded by her accusations, but he was also in awe of her.  Angry or not, he continued to be happy to see her.  But, he did question how a woman could be so angry, yet exude such beauty at the same time.

Accused of acts he hadn’t done, he knew no other course of action but to tell her the truth, and so he said, “I tell you no lie.  I have no other wife.  But I do wonder, who has told these lies to you?”

She didn’t answer his question.  Instead, after a short moment, she called over her shoulder, “Come, Marci.”

He watched as his wife turned and brought forward the young woman who had been standing behind her all this while.  Then, his fine-looking, yet irate wife said to the one whom she called Marci, “We will find my sister without any help.”

But, before they left, and in defense, he uttered, “I tell you this true.  I have no other wife, but you.”

“It is you who lie, for I have a news clipping of this wife you claim you don’t have and of you…pictures…newspaper articles…as well as our divorce papers.  And those, Mr. Wolf, prove that it is not I who is telling lies, but you.”  Then she turned away, and, within moments, she was walking away from him.

She loathed him, he realized perhaps too late.  And, he supposed that from her point of view, she might believe she had reason to show him dislike.

He watched her until she turned a corner and was no longer in his line of vision.  He frowned.  Two, almost three years ago, Jane and her sister had faced a trouble that had almost taken their lives.  He had thought the incident had resolved itself, and that his and Jane’s forced separation had been the act of a jealous father.

Now he wondered about the truth of that.  His wife’s reaction to simply seeing him again caused him to further speculate.  What had happened here, and, perhaps more importantly, why had something bad happened here? Did it have anything to do with what had occurred to Jane and her sister two years ago?  He didn’t know, but he promised himself that he would discover these answers, and soon….

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

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New Years Eve Tradition…and My Clever Mom

I’m talking today about my family’s New Years Eve traditions.

This is my family growing up, not my children and husband today.

I’m from a family of eight kids. Eight kids in a three bedroom farmhouse that was so old, before my mom and dad moved in, they were using it to store ears of corn. When Mom and Dad got married, there on the land my grandpa owned was this little old house.

Three rooms TOTAL. They did a bunch of fixing and turned it into (drumroll) a four room house.

Now, people didn’t always live in the mini-mansions they all do today, so it wasn’t that uncommon. But it was pretty squashed.

Mom and Dad slept on a fold out couch and the kids, which just kept popping up every year or two, slept in this cracker box upstairs, one room with a roof that slanted. When my SIXTH sibling was born, a brother, Mom and Dad added onto the house by…buying another house, hauling it in and setting it down by the current house. Now the house had THREE bedrooms.

But, I now slept on Mom and Dad’s fold out couch (which I did  not fold out). You can count that as a fourth bedroom, but it really wasn’t one.

All this to say, we were pretty poor and I was raised without much fancy stuff. And I really didn’t notice…much.

In the context of being poor, every New Years Eve, Mom would make this feast for us that was kind of expensive.

She’d get the pan out she used for deep frying, she had a wire basket to sink down into the hot oil, and she’d fry shrimp and chicken, French fries and onion rings.

It was DELICIOUS. My dad especially liked it which is why she probably did it.  But except for the shrimp, which she bought breaded, it was all made from scratch.

She’d peel and ‘french fry’ the potatoes. She’d dip pieces of chicken in a thin batter, and she’d make these onion rings that, every once in a while, I can find in a restaurant that is seriously trying to make delicious food. The onion rings would go in a thin batter, then she’d drop them in the hot oil and they’d kind of be all stuck together.

We’d just surround the poor woman and she couldn’t turn out that wonderful once-a-year food fast enough.

I’m fond of saying, I never knew there was such a thing as a cookie that wasn’t warm.

Same for shrimp and onion rings, deep fried chicken and French fries. We always ate this food as fast as she could cook it.

I found out much later that part of this annual deep-fried feast was Mom and Dad trying to come up with a way to keep us all home (as we got old enough to have driver’s licenses) She worried about wild behavior (for us) and drunk drivers on the road with us.

In fact we didn’t start the tradition until I was a little older, so there’s some truth to it.

I always have loved fried shrimp (honestly, I like every kind of shrimp!), and once in a while I get those really great batter-dipped onion rings like Mom used to make.

And they remind me of a simple time in a three-bedroom farmhouse with a herd of kids all surrounding a very special and clever Mom.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2021!

To celebrate the new year.

And to say a FULL-THROATED GOOD-BYE AND GOOD RIDDENCE TO THE OLD ONE!

I am giving away an ebook.

I have new release that has been released before…in a novella collection.

So it may be one you’ve read before.

Dr. Tess and the Cowboy

An archeologist discovers dinosaur bones and wants to preserve an important site.

Her dream come true may destroy his ranch.

Or it may lead them to true love.

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New Release and Two & a Half Weeks Before Christmas

Howdy!

Welcome to another Terrific Tuesday!

Is it really only two and a half weeks before Christmas?  Wow!  Time is going a little too fast for me.  Rush…rush…rush…

But, if I can take a moment in the midst of all the rush, I’d like to talk about the concept of giving and how it was a little different in Native America.

In the days of old, before the white man came to this country and influenced the American Indian into other traditions, giving gifts to others was a point of survival.  No chief could become chief who did not give to the needy and the less well to do.  Often the chief of the tribe was the poorest person in the tribe because he gave away almost all that he had.  However, contrary to a more socialist point of view, this was not pure socialism, because the giving was never regulated and never mandatory.  (Compare that to our income tax system.)  Only the strong, the wise and the kindhearted could be counted on to give, and it was considered one of the most aspired-to attributes.

Actually, it requires a bit of mind change to grasp the American Indian idea of giving.  If a man attained a higher state or did some great deed, he was not given something by the tribe, but rather, he gave gifts to others.  If a woman attained some desired state (a young girl attaining puberty for instance — or an older woman being praised for her handicraft) she and her relatives worked night and day to give gifts to others.  An example of this might be this:  Say it is your birthday, but instead of you getting gifts on your birthday, you and your relatives would work for months and months in order to have a feast, where one would give to the community in celebration of something one attained.  This was considered the highest honor one might place upon a family member.

This tradition is still carried on in Native America today.  When a family wishes to distinguish one of its own, members of the family will work for many months (sometimes years) to produce goods, not for oneself, but to give away to others — in honor of the family member.  In this manner, we have an example of giving something that cannot be measured in terms of finance.  The gift of caring, the gift of giving of oneself and one’s time.

These presents in Native America weren’t wrapped.  Sometimes the offerings were simply in the form of food or clothing or blankets.  Sometimes, in the case of a marriage or some other big event, items such as a tepee were donated to the cause (remember in the movie, Dances With Wolves and the tepee the star of the movie was given?)  When one couldn’t give because one didn’t have the wherewithal to do so, that person might give away all that he had.  In this way such articles were kept afloat in the society.  Sometimes one bestowed the very best possession that he treasured most, especially so if there were a sickness in the family and one wanted to ensure their beloved one’s  recovery.  Sometimes the donation was in the form of gifting a service to one’s people.  Certain societies had stringent rules about bundles or other sacred items and most people didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of these items (such as becoming a bundle holder.)  In this case the bequest would be in the form of the entire family taking on the responsibility, in order to preserve the spiritual traditions of the people.

This picture was taken at a give-away celebration that my friend, Patricia gave many years ago.  Another aspect to the American Indian’s way of thinking, was that it was considered a great honor if one gave in such a way that the other person didn’t feel they had to return the favor.  This happened to George Catlin in the 1830’s when a young warrior bestowed him with the diary that Catlin had lost.  The giving was done in such a way that Catlin was unable to give-back, since he was embarking upon a ship.

There is yet another example of giving by the American Indian comes to us from the Iroquois.  The Iroquois (which was composed of originally 5 tribes and eventually 6) had a system of government that was truly Of the people, For the people, and By the people.  Men served and were never permitted to draw any kind of pay for serving — it was simply considered their duty and their way of helping the tribe.  Such service is still in operation today.

I’d like to disagree with corporate America for a moment if I might.  I think the most potent gifts are those that one cannot measure by physical means.  When my kids were growing up, they used to give me coupons for Christmas — I still have them to this day — little chores they would do for me upon presentation of the coupon.  I guess the point is that one can always give something of themselves to another.

And here’s the most beautiful gift of all — something that those who crave material wealth over all else will never understand nor will they ever receive this gift (though some might pretend an affection) — the gift of love — true love.   No gold, no silver, can ever replace these gifts, since they have their roots in one’s heart and one’s nature.

And so, I would like to make this wish during this New Year’s season:  That the reasons for war — and the profit received from war — will perish from this earth.

And with this thought in mind, I leave you with a YouTube video of a song performed by Keith Whitley (who I believe is one of the best country singers to every grace the stage).

http://youtu.be/BgKYm1ssb9o

And speaking of gifts, I will be giving away a free copy of my newest release, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE — just look over to the side here for the Giveaway Guidelines.

IRON WOLF’S BRIDE, Coming November 15th — Give Away

Howdy!

Welcome to another Terrific Tuesday!  

Am really excited to let you know that my newest effort, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE is due to be released on November 15th.  Yea!

So, I thought I’d give you a quick glance at the cover and a little excerpt from the book, as well as the blurb.  Hope you’ll enjoy the excerpt!

IRON WOLF’S BRIDE

By

Karen Kay

BACK BLURB:

I will return to you, my love…

Jane Glenforest’s father believed she was too young to marry, so he’d stolen her and her newborn son away from the handsome Assiniboine Indian she’d wed and taken her to Surrey, England. In spite of divorce papers and rumors he’s wed another, Jane’s never forgotten the man who’d stolen her heart and given her son legitimacy. When Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show comes to England—bringing her ex-husband with it—Jane’s curious to see her lost love, in spite of her new fiancé.

Although Iron Wolf’s purpose in working for Bill Cody’s Wild West show is to fulfill his father’s vision to find and stop a deceiver, he fell in love with and married Jane Glenforest.  But, no sooner had Jane given birth than her father stole her away.  Now, a few years later, Iron Wolf is arriving in England with the hope of rekindling the love he once shared with Jane.  However, instead of love, he finds his wife loathes him, believing he has married another.  And, when he discovers she is engaged to another man, he declares war on both her and the fiancé.

But when their son is kidnapped, Jane and Iron Wolf must work together to rescue him. And, as danger escalates, they discover trusting each other might be the only way to save their son.  Will Jane and Iron Wolf learn to forgive one another, to reignite the embers of a passion that never died, or will the lies of a deceiver destroy their love forever?

Warning:  Rediscovered love might cause sleepless nights spent in the arms of one’s true love.

Iron Wolf’s Bride

An Excerpt:

Despite the warmth of the evening, the marble flooring of the foyer was cold beneath Jane’s slippers.  She was gazing forward, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows which graced the manor’s entryway.  Lacy, white curtains framed the windows, and, as Jane reached out to touch their softness, she recalled the feel of a smooth, deerskin bag that Iron Wolf had given her upon their marriage.  She’d had to leave it behind.

Iron Wolf…  How she wished that this evening were already over.

Biting her lip, she looked forward once more, out the window.  There were so many carriages out there; there must have been fifty or more of them, carrying the cast from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show here tonight.  And, one by one they pulled into the sweeping driveway of her uncle’s red-brick mansion.

The hour was early evening, and the many lanterns—which were scattered here and there along the brick drive—shone with a hazy light into the mist of the darkness, causing small pockets of foggy light to glitter, as though held there by a ghostly hand.  It caused the carriages to be appear to be as dark and as dreary as a funeral procession.

A shiver rushed over Jane’s skin as she realized that the ghosts from her past had come to haunt her tonight.  Iron Wolf would be amongst these people, and her tension because of this knowledge was so great, she held onto Nathaniel with a tight grip on his arm.  Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind and he patted her hand, his touch reassuring and gentle.

That her uncle had invited the entire cast of the Wild West Show to his estate was to Jane not to be believed, especially because tonight should have been the celebration party of her marriage to Nathaniel.  But, her uncle had explained that because the musicians had already been hired and an assortment of cooks were still on hand to provide the dinner, the original form of the party had changed from being a quiet dinner party to a ball and a sit-down dinner.

Why was her uncle honoring Bill Cody’s Wild West Show?  Didn’t he disdain those public gatherings which he labeled as “spectacles”?  Was it because Jane’s sister, Luci, performed with the show?  Perhaps.

And, of course Luci would be present here tonight, as would Luci’s husband, Wind Eagle.  Blue Thunder would also be present…and Iron Wolf.  There would be little chance she could avoid her former husband this evening, since he and his two friends were known to be Buffalo Bill’s most popular act—popular, that is, with the ladies.

During The Wild West’s long run, the threesome’s performances—which included not only daring feats of horsemanship, but also expert marksmanship—had gained steady popularity.  Indeed, a few years past, the three young men had added the American Indian style of singing and dancing as part of their entertainment.  From there, and because of that, the number of tickets sold to those of the female gender—young and old—had tripled the income of the show, if one were to believe the newspapers.  Indeed, her uncle had informed her that Buffalo Bill had asked the three young men to entertain this small gathering of London’s “elect” which was to be present here tonight.

At the moment, she could do little more than wonder how she was to get through the evening with her emotions still intact.  Pray, it might be the greatest acting performance of her life, since she was upset with them all: her sister, Wind Eagle, Blue Thunder and especially Iron Wolf.  But, she would sooner die from the heartbreak they had caused her than to openly show the hurt of their two-and-a-half-year indifference.  She promised herself that she would paste her most cordial smile onto her countenance, and she would grin as though her life depended upon it…and perhaps it did.

Jeremy, her son, would not be present at the festivities tonight, and for this Jane was indebted to Marci, who would attend to him and ensure his bedtime schedule remained the same as usual.  More commonly, Jane saw to her son’s nighttime storytelling and to the delightful chore of tucking him into bed.  Often, when there was a party, Jeremy was permitted to attend it.

But not tonight.  Tonight she needed every bit of her attention focused upon her smile and getting through the evening without grief and tears. 

Suddenly her heart seemed to stop.  There he was, exiting a carriage and stepping toward the house in the casual manner he seemed to have perfected.  His friends, Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder, as well as Jane’s sister, Luci, flanked him on either side.  Suddenly Jane’s breathing stopped and her heart raced, reminding her that she had not yet healed from the wounds Iron Wolf had inflicted upon her.

How innocent she had been back then, although, if she were to be honest, she would admit to wishing to be so happy again.  Ah, if life could only be like that once more.

She sighed, noticing at the same time that her sister, Luci, was dressed as she usually was when she performed with the show—as a boy—and Jane was startled to witness it.  Surely, Luci didn’t have to still pretend to be someone she was not, did she?  Didn’t she realize that dressing as a boy here would give away her true identity?

Whatever the reason for the disguise, it made Jane feel uneasy.  Was there a continuing danger to Luci and to herself, as well, that demanded her sister continue the disguise?

But, she quickly forgot the question, when, seeing Iron Wolf walk slowly toward her, Jane’s attention came away from her sister to focus squarely onto her former husband.  He wore his best clothing tonight, she noted, and he looked so handsome that she could not suppress the soft gasp which fell from her lips.

A tanned-buckskin shirt and leggings seemed to caress his casual movements, and she realized she had rarely seen him dress in this manner, for Buffalo Bill provided the cotton shirts and trousers that the American Indian performers wore.  His style of buckskin clothing was adorned with beads set in round designs of orange, blue and yellow colors, and the same scheme was repeated on his breechcloth and his moccasins.  She caught sight of the several feathers that were fastened together and fell down from the back of his head, disappearing from her view as Iron Wolf stepped readily forward.  He had left his hair loose and long tonight, the whole of it thrown over his shoulders. There was no bow in his hands or quiver full of arrows upon his back, but still, she could see that he was armed, for a colt .45 was neatly tucked into a holster that fit around his lower waist.

He had painted two streaks of red upon his cheeks, but he wore no other war paint.  From this distance, Jane’s stomach was already reacting in turmoil toward him, warning her of the danger he presented her.  But, she had no choice but to ignore it.  She had promised herself that she would play her part of a happy young lady tonight and nothing would distract her from that, pretense though it was.

The havoc of her emotional fears and grief, however, was so great, that when the four of them walked into the foyer, Jane thought she might faint.  But, she mustered up the act she had decided to present them, and, as she and Nathaniel paced toward the four of them, her grip on Nathaniel’s arm was so tight, it might have been made of iron instead of flesh and blood. 

She smiled at all four of them briefly, then said, “Luci, Wind Eagle, how are you?”

“We are well,” answered Wind Eagle.

“Good, I am glad to hear it.”  Jane smiled again, but couldn’t quite look at Iron Wolf as she continued, “Iron Wolf, Blue Thunder, you are both welcome here tonight.”

Blue Thunder nodded.  Iron Wolf, however, did nothing and said nothing, causing Jane to look up at him briefly.  In that glance, short as it was, she saw that he did not gaze at her, but had cast his glance upon her hand which remained clutched upon Nathaniel’s arm, while Nathaniel’s hand covered hers.

And then, before she could look away, Iron Wolf thrust his chin forward and stared down his nose at her, looking at her as though she were made of something distasteful.  He didn’t smile; he didn’t say a word.  And, the expression on his countenance—outside of disgust—was so blank that little other emotion could be seen there.

He continued to remain silent, though his brief look at Nathaniel could have melted steel.  But, instead of speaking, he turned quickly away from Jane and Nathaniel, following the other performers into the ballroom.  And Jane, glad to have the first introductions accomplished without error on her part, sighed.  Hopefully, the rest of the evening would go as planned.

***

To say that Iron Wolf was upset would not have done justice to the fury raging within him.  Who was that man?  Whoever he was, he had been touching her.  And worse, she had let him, had perhaps encouraged him, for her hand had rested on that man’s arm.

What had happened here in this strange country of England?  Was his wife’s love for him so lacking that she had placed another man in her affections?  He blew out a breath in revulsion.  It might be so.

Well, let them both look at and try to rationalize the performance he had this moment decided to give in this foreign and hostile place.  Their music featured both Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder as the vocalists in their trio.  Wind Eagle also kept time with a buffalo-hide drum and Blue Thunder accompanied the rhythm by shaking two different rattles.  While Iron Wolf also sang at times, he usually played his flute in these performances.  Also, he had become the group’s dancer.

For this, Iron Wolf was grateful.  His part in their performance tonight would allow him to give the presentation of his life.  She might not like what he was about to do, but he would ensure she would never again relegate him to the back recesses of her mind.

Áwicakeya, he dared her to forget about him again…ever.

***

Jane didn’t wish to view Iron Wolf’s and his friends’ act of drumming, singing and dancing.  Indeed, she wished she could be anywhere else but here, looking on.  But, it was not to be.

The gala which should have been her wedding party had turned sour.  Not that it was anyone else’s fault.  It was she, after all, who had postponed her wedding, and all because of one man, her former husband, Iron Wolf.

Servants had arranged the front of the ballroom into a stage for the performers, who were billed under their English names: Charles Wind Eagle, Luke Blue Thunder Striking, and of course her former husband, Michael Iron Wolf.  Chairs were clustered around the stage in five different rows.  After this performance, a ball was scheduled to follow, and, immediately after that, a sit-down dinner.

As the three men stepped forward, Iron Wolf turned so he was facing forward.  He caught her eye, and Jane drew in her breath sharply.  His look at her was so hostile, she had no choice but to look away.

Soon, the music began.  Both Wind Eagle and Blue Thunder were singing.  Blue Thunder took the lead with the song’s high-pitched intro.  Wind Eagle followed the lead, singing the same minor-keyed melody.  Wind Eagle beat out time on a hide-covered, hand-held drum, and Blue Thunder shook the two different rattles.  Iron Wolf wasn’t singing, instead he was playing his flute, but it wasn’t long before he began to dance.  Indeed, he was the only one of the three men who was dancing.

Too soon, it became evident that Iron Wolf was fashioning his performance to be much too personal, and Jane caught her breath as he stared directly at her while his dance took on a sensual, sexual nature, his hips jutting forward in time to the music.  Jane stirred uneasily, for a passionate sort of excitement was arising within her, and she didn’t wish to experience it.

As his dance continued in much the same manner, she wondered how much of this she could take.  Already recollections of their lovemaking from their not-too-distant past were materializing in her mind, and the reminiscence of their lovemaking flooded her body with an unwanted, yet passionate response.  As she watched, she couldn’t control the unwelcome, yet soul-stirring excitement which burned like fire over her nerve endings.  It was too much and she knew she had to get away.

But she couldn’t jump up suddenly and run from the room.  Her uncle, her aunt and even Nathaniel would be scandalized.  Briefly, she looked over her shoulder, searching for a reprieve.  But, all she saw were her uncle, Buffalo Bill and her uncle’s moneyed friends, who were standing or sitting toward the back of the room.

There was no comfort to be found there.  Looking forward again, her eyes met Iron Wolf’s angry and openly hostile gaze.  What did he have to be angry about?  It was she who was the victim of his scandalous affair.

Still, she wished now that Nathaniel hadn’t picked the front section of seats in order to watch the entertainment.  She had nowhere to go.

Luckily, Luci had taken up a position on Jane’s left while Nathaniel reposed on her right, and, despite Nathaniel’s presence beside her—perhaps because of it—Iron Wolf’s gaze at her did not allow to her look away.  All the while, his blatantly passionate dance made love to her.  Even his flute playing did not detract from the explicit, carnal manner of his movements.

Unfortunately for Jane, his dance was causing her usually conservative composure to shatter.  Suddenly, Iron Wolf squatted down on one knee, jutted his hips forward briefly, then jumped up with a vigor that proclaimed his youthful prowess.  The suggestive movement caused her heart to leap, and Jane wished she were embarrassed by his antics.  The truth was, however, she wasn’t.  She was responding to it—unwillingly, yes.  But, she was reacting to it all the same, and in kind.

She had to look away.  She tried to do so, but found it was impossible.  He was seducing her in front of everyone here, plain and simple.  With his legs spread apart, he fell down into a partial side-split, and, taking the mouthpiece of his flute out of his mouth, he held his hands up in the air as he slid back up into a standing position.  He then fell into a dance step—up and back, standing straight, then hunched over—all the while rocking and jutting his hips forward in so sensuous a manner, and in such an apparent, sexual way, it took Jane’s breath away.  Parts of her body appeared to be out of her control, being awakened by Iron Wolf’s display, and, try as she might to suppress the stirred-up lust he was causing, she couldn’t.  She gulped nervously.

Luci reached out to take Jane’s hand into her own, and Jane was glad of her presence beside her.  At last the music became low and soft, allowing Iron Wolf to speak out in English, and he said,

 

My wife, what has happened to us?

My wife, I have waited for you.

My wife, did you wait for me, honor me?

No, you did not.

And yet, my wife, I give you all of me now.

Will you take me?

It is not too late, my wife; it is not too late for us.”

 

His gaze was direct and piercing, and there was no doubt that his poetry was for no one but her.  In response, Jane could barely move; she couldn’t speak.

After his few words, the performance ended and he stepped quickly toward her.  But, Jane wasn’t about to confront him.  Not here, not now.

She jumped up as though there were a wound-up coil within her, and, turning around toward the entrance of the ballroom, she ran out of the room as fast as she could, aware of, but unable to look at the many curious glances sent her way.  She didn’t stop, nor did she pause.  Instead, she fled out into the foggy, darkened night, running along a pathway which led toward the gardens.  There was a labyrinth there that she knew well.  She intended to lose herself in it.  Now.

***

Iron Wolf followed her.  It was time to learn what was happening here.  Who was that man?

He intended this to be his first question to the woman who should be, and still was, his wife.  His second question to her would be why she believed he, her husband, had betrayed her.  But this could wait.

He noted that she had fled into a maze that was flanked by fragrant bushes which were taller than a man, and, were he not the scout and tracker he was, he might have become lost within these high shrubs, for the paths intersected one another and led in multiple directions.  But he didn’t lose his way.  He found her soon enough.

Once he had discovered her, he spoke out softly, so she might become aware he had followed her. “What is going on here?  Who is that man you were touching, the one who sat next to you?  What is he to you?”

Jane spun around, the look of surprise on her countenance quickly turning to anger.  She didn’t pause an instant, though, as she accused, “How dare you follow me!”

“I am your husband.  It is my duty to follow you.”

“Well, you can go away now.  I came here to be alone.”

Iron Wolf didn’t leave.  Instead, he repeated his question, for he intended it to be answered, and asked once more, “Who is that man?”

“That man?”

“The one you touched.  The one who sat beside you tonight.”

“He and I were to be married today.” 

She turned her back on him and Iron Wolf didn’t speak; he couldn’t, for he felt as though she had punched him in the gut.

She added, “We didn’t marry today, as it turns out, because I would like my sister to be a part of the marriage ceremony.  So we have postponed our wedding for the time being.  And now you see that I, too, might marry another, as you have.”

Although he wished to speak out loudly, to rage the truth at her, he found it impossible to find his tongue, and so he paused until at last he was able to say, “My wife, you have become like a wild pony in my absence.  How can you marry another when you are already married to me?”

“Am I?  Do you forget you divorced me?  And, how dare you call me ‘wild,’ when you…when you…”  Her voice caught.

He ignored the insult and said instead, “You have now accused me of this too many times.  Who has told this to you?”

“No one has ‘told’ it to me, as you say it.  It was written up in the newspapers, and I have the divorce papers that you signed, or have you conveniently forgotten that?  And, how dare you seduce me in front of all these people tonight; you, who are married to another.  Is she here tonight?  Does she care that you looked at me as you danced as though you were making love to me?”

She spoke so swiftly that he took a moment to understand all she had said, and then he asked, “Do you speak of the white-man’s newspapers where you saw my ‘wife’?”

“Of course.”

“Who showed this to you?”

“Does it matter?”

He sighed.  “Hau, hau, it matters.  I would ask you again, who has said this to you?”

“My uncle, if you must know.”

“Your uncle who owns this house?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Iron Wolf took a moment to collect his thoughts, then said, “You are wrong to believe these people, even if they be family.”

“So you can say easily enough.  But, my uncle is beyond reproach and I am certain he wouldn’t lie to me.  Besides, you forget that I have evidence of your betrayal of me.”

“No,” he countered, “what you have is ‘proof’ that is a lie.  And, now I say that it is good you did not marry that man this day, for had you done so, you would have committed a grave error, one I could not easily set aside.  So now, you must decide and choose between one or the other of us: me—your husband or that man.  For, even in my society, a woman may have only one husband.”

“I have already chosen, and that man is not you.”

Hau, then I will go.”

“Good.”

“But before I go, I wish to see these papers you have mentioned to me many times.  I would witness these lies with my own eyes.”

“They are not lies.”

He raised his voice.  “I say they are, and if you continue to tell me these untruths, I will say that you are a woman of no honor, who tells lies, as well.”

“How dare you shout at me, and how dare you say I am not honorable!”

He blew out his breath in an attempt to control his temper.  At length, he said, “I am a man who must be convinced.  Show me the papers you speak of, for I tell you true: I did not place my written name on anything.  I have no other wife, but you.  Why would I want another woman when the one I have is the sweetest, the most beautiful woman I have ever known or seen?  I ask you, why would I throw away the woman of my heart, for, if I were to do that, would I not destroy her and myself, too?”

He noted that the compliment, spoken as it was from his heart, might have found its target.  However, she did not respond favorably, and she turned her back upon him.

He encouraged, “Show me.”

When she turned around, she was crying, and his heart sank to realize that his raised voice and unkind words might have caused her grief.  Still, what he’d said had been true.

“Do you really think I stoop to tell fibs?  That I don’t have these things in my possession which show you betrayed me and then married another?”

“I would see them.”

She paused, as though she seriously considered his demand, even against her will.  At length, she said, “I suppose that might be a fair request.  So follow me.  I will show you, although I am certain you are already aware of what I am talking about.”

He nodded, but said nothing except, “Show me.  I will do as you ask and follow you.”

She turned around then and stomped out of the maze.  And, Iron Wolf, astonished again by the obvious—that this was no act and that his wife truly hated him— trailed after her.

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

Well, that’s it for now.  Look for the book November 15th, 2020 on Amazon.   Hope y’all will let me know if you like the cover as well as I do.  The male model is Lakota, by the way.  

Also, book #1 of the Wild West Series is on sale now for $.99.  It’s the first time this book has been put on sale for this low of a price.

You can get the book at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and Itunes, but I’m going to leave the link here on the blog for Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/w49evpb

Also, I’ll be giving away a free e-book or paperback of the first book in The Wild West Series, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME.  Remember to look at the rules we have here for giveaways.  Just leave a comment and you’re entered into the drawing.

The Abduction and Murder of Pocahontas, Part 3 — Plus Give-Away

Howdy! 

Welcome to another Terrific Tuesday.

For any of you who have been following my posts about the true story of Pocahontas — a true American heroine — this is the last in a series of three.  For anyone who has not been following the story, or who want to go back and read through the earlier posts so that this make more sense, here are the links:

https://petticoatsandpistols.com/2020/08/11/the-abduction-and-murder-of-pocahontas-2/

https://petticoatsandpistols.com/?s=The+abduction+and+murder+of+Pocahontas

As a quick overview, here is what we’ve learned so far:  Pocahontas was too young to have had a romance with John Smith.  We also learned that John Smith was adopted into Powhatan society.  In my last post I showed that she was abducted by the English and forced to live with them.  According to Pocahontas — who confided this to her sister — she was raped and was pregnant.  It is believed, however, that she was not married to the man who did this to her…Thomas.  Instead she was married to a man who could prove to be useful to the Colony if he could obtain secrets from the Powhatan people to turn those secrets to profit.  Note again, her son’s name was Thomas, not John.  Here below is the final installment of this story.

“According to …sacred oral history, the Native people of the New World possessed the knowledge of how to cure and process tobacco successfully.  The Spanish gained this knowledge from the Native communities they had subdued.”  THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS.

But, here might be exactly what the English were looking for to end the financial worries that had plagued the English settlement.  The growing of tobacco and its curing methods might, indeed, provide the means to put the problems that had plagued the colonists for so long.

Because of Pocahontas’ marriage to an Englishman, the priests’ concern over the sharing of their secrets concerning the curing of tobacco seemed to be placated.  However, oral history points out that the efforts of the Powhatan priests to help the English had the opposite effect of what the priests had hoped for, meaning that the priests had wished to persuade the English into becoming friendly and a part of the tribe.  But, instead of the English embracing the Powhatan people as brothers, it appeared that the new success unleashed an extraordinary rash of greed on the part of the newcomers.  Tobacco became the gold of the New World.  As a result, more Powhatan lands were trespassed and more killing ensued.  Additionally, more of the American Indian people became enslaved by the newly “successful” Englishmen.

But, back in the Colony, it was agreed that it was time to go back to England.  The infamous Captain Samuel Argall (who had abducted and kidnapped Pocahontas) captained the ship that was to take Rolfe, Pocahontas, their son and members of the Powhatan tribe to England.  The reasons for the trip were many:  finances were needed to refinance Jamestown, merchants needed to talk to the colonists to ensure more success, but perhaps the most important reason for going back to England was that public approval was needed in order to secure the colony.

Pocahontas provided a means to “show” the English people that the people of Jamestown and the natives were on friendly terms.  Pocahontas’s sister, Mattachanna and her husband accompanied Pocahontas to England, as did several other Powhatan people.  It had appeared to the Powhatan people that with so many of her own countrymen surrounding her, there would be safety in numbers.  Wise men and priests, however, advised Wahunsenaca not to let his daughter go to England; they said that she would never return.   But how could he stop it?  She was already in the hands of the Englishmen, who could kill her or use her in a bad way.  He considered a rescue too risky.  She might die.

In the end, Pocahontas went to England.

It was in England that Pocahontas’s “eyes were opened” to the truth.  Up to that time Pocahontas hadn’t known that she was being used as a pawn might be used in a game of chess, because she didn’t really understand the English or what drove them to do what they did.  But, Pocahontas was far from being a chess piece.  She was a flesh and blood heroine.

What opened her eyes was a meeting she had with John Smith.  It was because of this meeting that she learned she had been lied to: he was not dead.  Moreover, she discovered that he had utterly betrayed her father and her people because he had taken a solemn oath to her people to represent them to the English; he had promised her father that he would bring the English under the power of the Powhatan.  She learned he had never intended to honor his word, that he had used her father and her people to simply get what he wanted.

Pocahontas was outraged and she directed her rage toward Smith at their meeting.  Understand, she was not angry because of any lost love or any young girl crush on the man.  Rather she had been alerted to the truth: that this mad-man had betrayed her father and her people.

It is known to this day through oral tradition that it was with horror that Pocahontas learned what John Smith’s true intentions had been toward her people — had always been toward her people: to take their lives, their lands and everything they held dear.

Pocahontas now longed to go home and inform her father of all she had learned.  She intended to do exactly that.  Unfortunately, she let that be known to the wrong people and the wrong man.  While we don’t know what John Smith did or whom he told of his “talk” with Pocahontas, we can surmise from the evil that followed the “talk,” that he told Pocahontas’ words to those who stood to lose money on their investments, and/or those who stood to gain from the merchants’ investments: i.e., Dale, Rolfe and Whitaker or some other merchants. 

Meanwhile, the whole party set sail back to England in the spring of 1617 with Samuel Argall again as the captain of the ship.  That evening Pocahontas, Rolfe and Argall dined in the captain’s chamber.

“Pocahontas quickly became ill.  She returned to her quarters by herself, sick to her stomach, and vomited.  She told (her sister) Mattachanna that the English must have put something in her food.  Mattachana and Uttamattamakin tried to care for Pocahontas in her sudden illness.  As Pocahontas began to convulse, Mattachanna went to get Rolfe.  When they returned, Pocahontas had died.”  — THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS.

They hadn’t even attained open sea yet.  They were still in the river.  Rolfe immediately asked to be taken to Gravesend, where he buried Pocahontas and left Thomas in England for his English relatives to raise.  Rolfe never saw him again.

Upon returning to the New World, Mattachanna and her husband, Uttamattamakin — who was the high priest — reported to Chief Wahunsenaca what had happened in England, including the murder of his daughter.  It is from this account that the oral history has been passed down from generation to generation.

But who killed her and why?  Again, from the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, “Rolfe and the Virginia Company associates ascertained that Pocahontas knew that Smith had lied to her father and that some English businessmen were behind a scheme to remove her father from his throne and take the land from the Powhatan people.  This justified the decision by the English colonists not to take Pocahontas back to her homeland…. Certain people believed that Pocahontas would endanger the English settlement, especially because she had new insights into the political strategy of the English colonists and (their intention) to break down the Powhatan structure, so they plotted to murder her.” 

Again, from the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, “…Dale, Rolfe, and Whitaker had close ties to each other.  All three had major roles in what happened in Pocahontas’s life after she was abducted.  Dale eventually took custody of Pocahontas after Argall took her to Jamestown.  Whitaker maintained Pocahontas’s house arrest and surveillance.  All three sought to convert Pocahontas to Christianity.  Rolfe married Pocahontas. Dale provided a large tract of land for Rolfe to grow tobacco.  A Dale-Rolfe-Whitaker trio comprising agreements and pacts is not out of the realm of possibility, but … sacred oral history does not reveal who or how many persons were behind her murder.  We believe it is most likely that more than one person was involved.”

So ends my story of the abduction and murder of a true heroine.  A heroine because she tried to unite two different peoples.  A heroine because she endured much in an effort to help her people.  She did it with little complaint, though it goes without saying that she yearned for the company of her own people, her own little son and the husband of her heart, Kocoum. 

 It’s not exactly the Disney version or the fairy tale story that we’ve all been spoon-fed, I’m afraid.  But it’s an honest view.  It shows the courage and persistence of a young woman who did all she could to help her father and her people.  And, to this end, she is a true American heroine.

I believe that the purpose of history is to show what causes created what effects.  In an honest report of history, once can easily see what effects were created and thus use history as a real education.  As they say “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.”

Of course, one has to presuppose that one’s history is being told truthfully, and not rewritten versions of an event that will further along some vested interest.  So what can we learn from this true story of a brave heroine?

I’ll give you my thoughts on the subject, and perhaps you can give me yours.  The mistakes that I see that Wahunsenaca (Pocahontas’s father) made were: 1) He didn’t get to know the Englishman’s views of ethics (or lack thereof), supposing instead that all peoples valued the same thing; 2) He sought to placate evil instead of confronting it and eradicating it when he had a chance of winning against it; and 3) One cannot easily placate greed and evil.  It seems to feed on itself.  To me such greed is vampire-like — one can never do enough.  It’s as though one’s own good deeds disappear into a vacuum — a “ho-hum — what else can you do for me,” attitude.   The arrogance and snobbery of the criminally insane is beyond belief.  And, as far as Pocahontas, herself, I’d say that one could learn that one shouldn’t say too much to those who have raped, kidnapped and/or have harmed or mean to harm you in some way.

After all, the opposite of the right to speak one’s mind is the right to not speak it to those who mean you harm.  She was only in her early twenties.  Did I know this valuable God-given right when I was this young?  I can say quite honestly that I did not.

Well, there you have it.  What do you think?  It’s doubtful Hollywood would make a movie of this story, though I wish that they would.  But this is the story that has been passed down from generation to generation amongst the Powhatan people and their various tribes, specifically the Mattaponi.  For further information, I would highly recommend the book, THE TRUE STORY OF POCAHONTAS by Dr. Linwood “Little Bear” Custalow and Angela L. Daniel “Silver Star.”  Read it for yourself and come to your own conclusions.  It is a story of the oral tradition of Pocahontas.  It is not a made-up story.  Here is a link to get the book:  https://tinyurl.com/yy6zccl2

So come on in and let me know your thoughts.  Is there anything you can think of that can be learned from this “history lesson”?  

And now for the give-away promised: I’ll be gifting the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, to a lucky blogger.  I’m giving away the e-book, BLACK EAGLE, because this story is one of an Eastern Indian tribe, the Iroquois.  Although the Powhatan tribe is not the same as the Iroquois, both of them were North Eastern tribes.

Please note:  The pricing of the books, WAR CLOUD’S PASSION, LONE ARROW’S PRIDE, SOARING EAGLE’S EMBRACE, WOLF SHADOW’S PROMISE and BLACK EAGLE are once again on sale.  Temporarily, they had gone up in price to their usual price at $4.99.  But check back at Amazon soon.  They will be going back on sale from $.99 – $2.99.

Hope you have enjoyed this blog and the previous two blogs about the same subject.  Peace…

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.

Welcome to Some Summer Fun! A Puzzle…

Howdy!

Are you ready for another fun week of games and puzzles?  Well, kicking off this week, I thought I might post a puzzle — I figure we could call it:  Name that cover.

 

Here’s the link:  https://www.jigsawplanet.com/?rc=play&pid=333e8f3e0a3f

So, did you put it together yet?  Okay, shall we compare times?  Now, before I tell you how long it took me to put the puzzle together, be aware that I am not puzzle-oriented.  Okay? It took me 11 minutes and 54 seconds — and that was after I called my husband, Paul (who loves puzzles) to come and help me.  I seem, also, to be alone in my lack of tolerance and working over puzzles.  Both my daughters, my grandchildren, my husband, his mother, his sister, etc. etc. — all love puzzles and put them together (really hard ones) in no time at all.

Not me.

Would love to hear your time.

So here’s the multiple choice question:  Is the cover?

** RED HAWK’S WOMAN

** THE LAST WARRIOR

** THE SPIRIT OF THE WOLF

Thanks so much for coming here today and for playing the game with me.  Know that if you leave a comment, you are automatically entered into the drawing that will take place at the end of the week.  (All Petticoats and Pistols rules for Giveaways apply.)

Thanks for playing and have a super rest of the week…lots of fun!

Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer

Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer is a museum in Nebraska…not really near me because let’s face it, Nebraska is HUGE.

But it’s near enough that I’ve gotten there a couple of times.

It’s absolutely fascinating. A laid-out circle of buildings that have been brought it, that date to the 1800s.

I may write five blogs about it because there is SO MUCH. I could spend days there and just look and read and look and read.

But today I’m writing about the recreated Earthen Lodge built there.

In the early 1800s the Pawnee lived mainly in only a few towns. Six or seven.

In each town were 40 to 200 of these earthen lodges.

Each lodge held around 20 Pawnee and each village could contain from 800 to 3500 tribal members.

These were big towns.

The smallest one is larger than my hometown.

 

This first picture is a diagram of the lodge. It’s laid out to respect the power the Native people gave to the earth. It was called The Circle of Life. Both symbolic and literally the source of their family, their safety, their food, their shelter. Truly a circle of life for them.

For me, museums are most fun when there are lots of words. This picture above is for the Pawnee History that is celebrated with this earthen lodge. I hope you can read it. I spend more time READING in museums than looking at the objects contained there.

This is the side view of the lodge from outside. It’s exactly as you’d think it would be. A hole dug into a hill. Remember this is Nebraska. It gets cold! The insulation from dirt is excellent, though it still seems like it’s be a little cold to me. 

Here it is from the front, this is the entrance. It’s full size and we were able to go inside.

This is the inside edge of the lodge. You can see there is a layer of grassy seating off the ground. The Pawnee would sit here, around the fire, and could sleep here at night. A single lodge could house dozens of tribal members.

Here you can see the tree trunks that support the ceiling, even though it’s inside an earthen mount it is hollowed out and they need to keep the ceiling up. Note the opening in the ceiling. A fire was built in the center of the lodge and it would warm everyone, the smoke would rise up through the hole, they could cook over it and heat water to wash.

Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer. A fascinating slice of history in Minden Nebraska in the heart of the Nebraska prairie.

Mary Connealy

 

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.

Proud Wolf’s Woman — 25th Year Anniversary, Give-Away & Other News

Howdy!

Hope your July 4th celebration was wonderful.  July is such a terrific month, isn’t it?  Because this is the month of our country’s Declaration of ’76, I’m putting two of my books (which I call my freedom books) on sale for $.99 cents throughout the month of July.  Those books are BLACK EAGLE and SENECA SURRENDER.  Usually I give this little warning concerning these two books, which is that these two books are a little more sensuous than my usual Historical Romances.

Black Eaglehttps://tinyurl.com/vyygnvn

Seneca Surrenderhttps://tinyurl.com/wjj49nk

Then, PROUD WOLF’S WOMAN has just been released in its 25th Anniversary Edition.  This book has been out of print for about 25 years and is now back in print.

There’s really quite a bit of editing and that sort of thing that goes into these Anniversary books.  Often, when the books were converted from mass market books to e-books, there were errors due to the conversion.  So the extra editing is to find those errors and correct them.  It’s a beautiful edition and is on sale for $3.99 — regularly priced at $4.99.  The paperback edition is also on sale for $9.99.  Recently we’ve put our paperback books on sale from $13.99 to $9.99 because with this unusual world situation, sometimes it’s nice to lose ourselves in a story that ends happily.

So, in celebration of this book coming back into print after about 25 years, I’ll leave you with this excerpt and back blurb from the book.  Hope you will enjoy.

Proud Wolf’s Woman — https://tinyurl.com/y8x5p4qs

PROUD WOLF’S WOMAN by Karen Kay

He rescued her from slavery…now he is captive to desire.

Lakota Warriors, Book 2

Stolen from a cruel husband by the savage Kiowa, Julia Wilson’s life has gone from bad to worse. Just when she has reached the end of her endurance, salvation rides into camp. Neeheeowee, a proud Cheyenne brave who once filled her young heart with romantic dreams, has come to save her from everything—except the flames of desire that still burn.

Bitter and intent on vengeance against the man who killed his wife and unborn child, Neeheeowee has no room in his heart for love. His captured ponies and treasured robes were supposed to be traded for Kiowa weapons. Instead, to his annoyance, he must trade everything for his old friend’s life.

Hard as he tries to hang on to his anger at being set off his mission, he cannot deny that he yearns for the woman whose gentle, healing presence reminds him that happiness might exist beyond revenge. Her lips tease him with passion he dare not risk, for those who are long dead still haunt him. To take the love she offers risks his honor—perhaps his very life.

Warning: Sensuous romance might cause one to go West to find one’s own true love.

 

Enjoy this excerpt from PROUD WOLF’S WOMAN

 

They had been traveling that way for some time now, and always, after they had reached the Arkansas River, there had been buffalo. But before that, before they had reached the river, there had been nothing.

She remembered again the harshness of the last few weeks of traveling. It had been a cruel trek across what she now came to realize had been the Jornada, or Horn Alley, as the Americans called it: a desert march.

She remembered being glad to drink of the chalky white substance Neeheeowee had called mahpe, not even caring anymore if the water might be contaminated.

It was also during this time that she’d become aware that they traveled the Santa Fe Trail, and she remembered wondering if she might come across white travelers. So far, though, she had seen no one…up until now.

She looked down again upon the scene below her, her gaze taking in the herd of buffalo that seemed to stretch out to the horizon. Sometimes she and Neeheeowee had been forced to move amongst those numerous herds these past few days, Neeheeowee seemingly at ease over it, Julia half-afraid of the huge beasts. Often they would follow a buffalo trail, seeking out the hollows where buffalo had lain down and rolled over and over, these spots dotting the flat, endless land as though they were shimmering aqua beads strung out on a necklace of brown and green grasses.

It was in these hollows that she and Neeheeowee would water the pony and stock up on their own water supply, if low.

She smiled, watching the sun as it began to set in the western sky, the magnificence of color there, the golds and pinks, the reds and oranges, unlike anything she’d ever seen, and as Julia watched it, she experienced a sense of well-being that was as pleasurable as it was unusual. There was something about this limitless space that did something to her: the prairie that looked more silver than green under the hot, spring sun; the grasses that waved in the wind; the expanse of sky and high clouds. Even the air seemed magnified in purity, and she breathed it in now with a satisfied sigh.

She listened to the wind, the breeze blowing the faraway sounds of the trailblazers to her.

She supposed she might have gone down there to them, since they camped so close by, but she didn’t and she wouldn’t, content to continue her travels with her Indian companion, her proud wolf.

Yes, that was how she had come to think of Neeheeowee now: Proud Wolf. It was difficult not to picture him this way; not when he tilted his head a certain way, sometimes looking down his nose at her, although she knew it was all a facade.

She wondered again at how the white man had ever come to think of the Indian woman as a slave. Clearly there were divisions of labor as to the men’s and women’s work, but Neeheeowee did not balk at taking on her tasks when she didn’t know them or couldn’t do them.

And never did he scold her nor make her feel his inferior. Never.

In truth, she had never felt so cherished.

Still, there was something else: She had never asked, she had not thought to, but she had come to understand that Neeheeowee was taking her back to Fort Leavenworth. Another chivalrous move on his part.

She straightened up, away from the tree, looking out upon the camp that Neeheeowee had pitched. Stretched out beneath a canopy of cottonwood trees, their site disappeared into the landscape. And she knew it would take more than a little expertise for anyone, even an Indian, to find their camp.

She had noticed that Neeheeowee made no moves to light a fire this night, and Julia could only assume that was because of the close presence of the pioneers. And though she had come to realize that Neeheeowee did not much fear the white man, he did go out of his way to avoid them.

She glanced over to Neeheeowee now and watched him as he worked at camp chores, untying his bow, working over the wood, even chipping away at an arrowhead and shaft. These actions had become so commonplace to her of late, she barely even noticed him doing them.

As though aware of her scrutiny, Neeheeowee inclined his head just slightly before turning it quickly to his left, a gesture which had become familiar to Julia, and she couldn’t help but believe it an Indian custom, with some meaning to it.

He looked over to her, his expression stoic, unreadable.

“Ta-naestse,” he said, making a gesture toward her, indicating her voice. With a lift of his shoulders, he gave her to understand that he asked a question and Julia realized she had been humming, something she’d not been aware of until this moment. She stopped, but he motioned her to continue and then, possibly by way of a compliment, he smiled.

Julia was immediately captivated; so rarely did he honor her with such an expression.

She smiled back and continued to hum in tune along with the lazy fiddle, whose notes drifted up to them from the pioneer camp below. She knew the song being played down there and had she felt more at ease she might have sung along, but, being a little self-conscious, she contented herself with a mere hum.

At length, she rose, wandering to the edge of the ridge and there, looked over to the pioneer camp. Dusk had fallen all around her, bringing with it the scent of the pioneers’ campfire, the soft feel of evening air, and the nightly squawk of prairie hawks. Also, too, were the sounds of laughter and of happy music which filtered up to her. All at once, a sense of melancholy overcame her, and Julia wondered at the cause. Perhaps it was only her desire to be near to the things she had once known, or perhaps it was simply the melancholy which she had heard so often attached itself to the prairie traveler.

Whatever the cause, Julia began to recall the dances, the jigs, the excitement of being young, unattached, and in love, the thrill of being asked to dance by the most handsome of beaus.

Caught up in her reminiscence, she swayed to the rhythm of a jig, her feet finding their way into the simple steps of the dance. And all at once, she twirled once, again, until at length she spread her arms, spinning round and round, the leather fringe of her gown flowing outward and swaying like so much prairie grass in the wind.

She smiled as a slower waltz took over the beat and melody, remembering when she’d danced to this very song not so long ago.

And without even thinking about it, she curtsied as though to a suitor.

“Oh, my, yes,” she said to this most handsome of imaginary partners. “I’d be more than happy to accept this dance.”

Her arms came up to rest on her partner’s strong, invisible shoulders as he began to twirl her around and around the carpet of prairie grass, the hard earth beneath her feet her dance floor, the darkened sky overhead her ballroom.

“Are you planning to ask me to walk with you in the garden after the dance?” Julia asked into her shadowy partner’s ear, throwing her head back while the dark curls of her hair fell down around her waist.

She giggled as she pretended her fanciful partner’s reply, deeming it to be a most naughty of answers, and she feigned a blush, saying softly, “Why sir, how dare you speak to me as such.”

But when she smiled, it took the edge off her words, so that the dreamy figure holding her continued to whisper to her, the words so terribly naughty, it made Julia laugh.

She reached down, to sweep the train of her fictitious gown over her arm and then it happened.

Neeheeowee stood before her, stepping into her arms as though he were her fancied prince, his very real arms encircling her, his hand over hers.

His steps were smooth and slow, his look at her intense under the beginning shadows of a softened night.

She matched his steps, looking up to meet his gaze.

The moon appeared as an imperfect disk in the soft hush of evening, its radiance already beaming down, basking them in a glow of silvery light, and, as she looked up to him, Julia thought Neeheeowee more handsome than anyone of her acquaintance, and at this moment he bore more traits of what is considered the civilized man than anyone else, white or red.

Her one hand rested over his smooth shoulder, her other hand he clasped tightly within his own and he twirled her around their ballroom of softened prairie grass and hushed, moon-filled night. They danced as though to the tune of a hundred violins with thousands of spectators watching, yet they danced only for themselves.

The music from below had long ago ceased to play, but not so these two dancers. They swept around the circle there on the ridge, each twirl bringing her closer and closer into his arms, neither one aware that they danced to none other than the music of their own hearts.

His head came breathlessly close to hers, his lips hovering over her own and Julia, looking up, begged him silently for his kiss, her gaze pleading, her lips trembling.

She didn’t have to wait. As he completed the one last twirl, his lips pressed sweetly over hers and Julia responded as though she had waited all her life for this moment, or more particularly, seven and one-half years.

Proud Wolf’s Woman — https://tinyurl.com/y8x5p4qs

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