Native American

New Interview From Coffee Time Romance & e-book giveaway

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Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Hope your summer is going great!

Well, I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Coffee Time Romance, the subject being the writing of my newest series about the Medicine Man.

Hope you’ll love the interview and hope you’ll leave a comment and let me know your thoughts on this new series of writing about the American Indian Medicine Man.  And, I will be giving away a free e-book to one of the bloggers — your choice.

To the left here is a Kiowa Medicine Man with his wife and child.  I love this photo.  This is a handsome young man and his wife is very pretty.  She’s also wearing long, braid holders.  They might be beaded; it’s hard to tell.  Or they might be made of cloth.  He looks to be wearing a cotton shirt  and a cloth breechcloth.  But he is wearing what looks to be hide moccasins and perhaps she is, also.  She also has a very pretty trade blanket around her waist.  When the buffalo were slaughtered and no longer roamed the Great Western Plains, cloth often became the material of choice which they would get from the trading posts and this was commonly used for their clothing.  Their baby looks to be wearing a homemade dress of cloth.  The medicine man is also holding rattles and a stick with quite a few feathers attached.  I do not know the significance of this stick, if there is any.  Anyway, this is what I see from their picture.  And now for the interview.

 

Welcome. Today I’m talking with Karen Kay, and her books revolve around the American Indian culture. What an interesting theme. Tell us why you wanted to write about this.

Well, historically, the American Indians have pretty much had a bad rap.  I can say this now having mounds of historical documents in my library of their own writings and/or stories they told to friends that they had personally been a part of, and those friends wrote those stories down.  History in movies, in texts and other means of communication has been pretty much written by the victors and, until more recently, lies about them and their ideas of government, culture, freedom, the spiritual nature of man, the institution of marriage, of honor, of truth and the willingness to come to the aid of a friend has been hidden or simply not taught.  And it is this culture which is unparalleled in many ways than any other society I have studied.  Later, after I had started writing about the American Indians, I found out through a neighbor and a family tree (now lost) that I had Choctaw heritage that was hidden from me.  This alone has given me a reason to try in my own humble way to write it the way I have found it to be.

How is your approach different?

I’m not sure my work is entirely different from others who write in this genre.  The only thing I try to add is to make (though I write in fiction) many of the happenings in my books based on or inspired by real people who lived through some of the events I write about.

In order to write about the American Indian Culture, you have to be knowledgeable. Where do you do your research?

Well, almost all of my research is done from reading historical accounts of true happenings told by the person who lived them.  The writings of James Willard Schultz; Charles Eastman; Walter McClintrock; Jeffrey Prather; Frank B. Linderman; Frederick E. Hoxie; William Tomkins, George Catlin and many, many others.  I have many, many books on the fur trade, the steamboats, the bull trains, the railroads, etc.  And that’s just in the West.  I have a whole other assortment of books on the Eastern Indian Iroquois Confederation.

Tell us a little about your sources — the people you’ve met, and how you contacted them.

When I first started writing these stories — all those years ago in 1994 — I was determined to learn as much as I could about what I was writing about and to write entertainment, it’s true, but to be as accurate as I could about the actual history of the American Indians.  Besides books, I visited all the reservations in Montana and many of the reservations in South Dakota.  I’ve been to reservations in Arizona and New Mexico.  My husband and I have visited every reservation in Montana personally and have gone to pow-wows and we were instrumental in bringing a literacy project to the Blackfeet reservation in Montana that was open and was helping people with literacy for about five years.  I have two almost-sisters on the Blackfeet reservation to this day.  And, in 2007, I was adopted into the Blackfeet reservation.

You’ve written several books in your Medicine Man series. Tell us about the role of the medicine man in American Indian culture. Who were they?

Well, this is a subject I am still learning about, to tell you the truth.  I had wanted to write about the medicine men for a while, but didn’t because I simply didn’t know enough about them.  And, it’s a subject that doesn’t have a lot of information about who they were or what they did because these men did not necessarily tell others their secrets.  But slowly, reading a lot of stories about them, I’ve come to know more about them through stories their children have told (Blackfeet), through Frank B. Linderman’s book Pretty Shield, Medicine Woman of the Crows (Crow), Jeffrey Prather’s book, INITIATION Boys are Born. Men are Trained (Apache), Thomas E. Malls book, Fools Crow (Lakota) and of course, Black Elk Speaks (Lakota) by John G. Neihardt.  There are many more.

One thing I have learned is that the medicine man’s path was not an easy path to follow.  There was a code of honor and a code of ethics they adhered to if they wished to be successful.  And one the of biggest things I discovered is that the medicine man was very aware that he was doing the Creator’s work and his life consisted of prayer every day.  The Creator or God was the one who was doing the healing through the medicine man.  These medicine men were very aware of this and believed that the spirit of the Creator, alone, healed.  He was a part of everything they did to help their people to heal.

There were/are those who use what might be called black magic to do deeds contrary to the Creator, but these men were not usually known as medicine men — often they were known as witches or a shaman and they were as different from a medicine man as day is to night.

I go into this in more detail in my book, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD.  I do try to share what I have learned with my readers.

What did they do to help people get well?

All medicine men and medicine women knew how to use herbs, teas, muds, the bark of trees and their leaves and other plants found in nature to heal.  But, they had their own way of healing that was theirs alone.  They used the rhythm of drums, a special song, dances, putting hands on the body of a person to discover their ailment to help heal.  But, their main way to ensure the person they were asked to help was through prayer and the prayer was usually done in a very certain way.

A medicine man is a fascinating — and highly interesting — person. What started you on this quest to know more?

That came to me in an entirely American Indian fashion — through a dream, really.  I used to talk a bit about this, but no longer do — having now the knowledge that one should not share the dream with anyone else except with a medicine man.

Are there still medicine men (or women) around today?

Yes, there are, although from the book, Fools Crow by Thomas E. Malls, I’ve learned that some medicine men in the present might not fully follow the path of honor that was so essential in the olden days and these men, according to Fools Crow, can tend to be not as successful as they might otherwise be.  But yes, there are definitely medicine men who still follow this difficult path and who are dearly loved by their people.

What was the greatest challenge writing this series?

I think it would be learning about who these men and women truly were.  It’s hard to discover who they were and what they accomplished and some of the things they used to heal when there is really not a lot written about them.  But, over time I’ve learned enough to at least show what they could accomplish and a little of how they did what they did.  And, again, the importance of the Creator or God was paramount in all they did to help another.

What in your opinion makes good chemistry between your leading characters?

In my stories, the one culture and its ideas and ideals are pitted against the other, and their cultural ideals rarely match one with the other.  It is the love and admiration they each have for one another, despite very real problems and differences they deeply hold, that cause them to be determined to be together despite what is going on around them and despite sometimes, even the characters, themselves.

Now a little about you, Karen Kay. What inspired you to become a writer?

It was during a very rough time in my life when my children were quite little (toddlers) that I began to really read a lot of romance.  Those books became friends.  Because I was raised in a household of music when I was young, I was used to being inspired by the aesthetics of music.  And during this tough time in my life, when I really needed some aesthetics in my life, books and writing became my outlet and to this day, my characters become my friends.

How long have you been writing?

My first book was published in 1994 by AVON BOOKS.  But I was writing this and that for about thirteen years before actually becoming published.  When I discovered historical romance, I was thrilled and my very first historical romance, LAKOTA SURRENDER, was bought and published by AVON BOOKS.

Are you a disciplined writer with a strict schedule?

Mostly, I am.  But, with four adopted new pets and helping out with grandchildren and all kinds of chores I have to do at home, my schedule has been disrupted and I am trying my best to get to a schedule that works for me now.  But, mostly I am a disciplined writer.

What inspires you?

Gosh, a lot.  I get inspired by the people around me, by my readers, by the research books I read and by happy every afters.  My heroines are based usually upon people I know and the same could be said about the heroes.  But, the main hero who inspires me is my husband.

Any other works in progress?

Yes.  I’m at work on book #6 in the Medicine Man series.  The working title for the book right now is IF SHE WERE MINE.  I’m also writing a Young Adult series under the pen name of Genny Cothern and I’m at work on book #3 in the Untamed Frontier series.  These Young Adult stories are novellas and they are a short, and I hope are easy to read, too.  They are sweet historical romances of adventure and young love.

Do you have any final words you’d like to share with your readers or anything else you want to tell us about your books?

I love hearing from readers.  Usually these emails I get from my readers are a bright spot in my day and so I would like to encourage readers to email me.  My email address is:  karenkay.author@startmail.com

Thank you, Karen Kay. And best of luck with your Medicine Man series.

U.S. Boarding Schools for Native American Children

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We have a guest at the junction today! Let’s give a big welcome to our guest, Kiersti Giron!

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When I began researching the story that would become my historical novel Beneath a Turquoise Sky, I decided to set it at a mission school on the Navajo reservation in the early 1900s, since I’d spent five years in that area of northwest New Mexico during my teens. However, I soon realized I had much to learn—including that to be historically accurate, my mission school needed to be a boarding school for Native children. But why?

Only a few generations ago, the United States grappled with what was known as the “Indian problem.” European settlement—and even railroads—had spanned from coast to coast by the late 1800s, yet many First Nations tribes, the original inhabitants of the land, remained. And conflict abounded, especially since the United States government broke nearly every treaty it made with tribes as sovereign nations.

Some Americans subscribed to the “annihilation” solution. Shocking as it may seem to us today, the author of The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum, wrote this in a South Dakota newspaper in the 1890s:

“The Whites, by law of conquest, by justice of civilization, are masters of the American continent, and the best safety of the frontier settlements will be secured by the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians.”

But other more “progressive” voices spoke also. Captain Richard Henry Pratt promoted the “assimilation” solution instead, advocating in a famous speech that white people should “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” Pratt founded the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania, which took Native children from tribes all over the country and attempted to, indeed, “kill” all about them from their own cultures, including language, dress, and family ties, molding them into the image of Euro-American culture as much as possible.

 

Students at Carlisle Native Industrial School in Pennsylvania, c. 1900 (public domain)
Students at Carlisle Native Industrial School in Pennsylvania, c. 1900 (public domain)

 

This school became a model for other government and mission boarding schools all over the United States. Between 1869 and the 1960s, tens of thousands of Native American children were taken from their families, sometimes by force, and placed in boarding schools. It is estimated that by 1926, over 80% of school-age Native children attended these military-style residential schools, numbering over 60,000 students just in 1925. Many children endured horrible abuse at these schools, and many never returned home, often buried in unmarked graves and still unaccounted for by the U.S. government. Even well-intentioned teachers and missionaries did grave damage in removing children from their families and stripping them of their Native identity and culture, tragically cloaking Christianity in Euro-American, “white” garb. Generations of children lacked parenting and endured punishment and trauma merely for speaking their own languages, trauma that still wracks Native communities today.

 

Three Rosebud Sioux children the day after they entered boarding school, 1883
Three Rosebud Sioux children the day after they entered boarding school, 1883. By John N. Choate, Carlisle, PA – https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e1-1b90-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99, Public Domain.

 

The same boys several years later, after their forced cultural assimilation
The same boys several years later, after their forced cultural assimilation. By John N. Choate, Carlisle, PA – https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e1-1b90-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99, Public Domain.

As I continued to research my story and learned from Navajo friends and mentors, the history I hadn’t known before broke my heart. Yet I also saw hope for healing and relationship, though so much work remains to be done. My Navajo mentor and his Dutch-American wife met and married at a mission boarding school in Gallup, New Mexico, back in the 1960s, and their true story—and how they welcomed me into their hearts and lives—did much to shape the story I was writing, changing my own life and perspective on history and Native peoples for good.

If you’d like to learn more about the history of U.S. boarding schools for Native children, I recommend The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition at https://boardingschoolhealing.org/. You can also look up the powerful short film “The Cutting of the Tsiiyéél,” by Susie Silversmith, a Navajo boarding school survivor.

 

Giveaway:

I am giving away one copy of Beneath a Turquoise Sky! Here’s a little about the book:

Cover of Beneath a Turquoise Sky by Kiersti Giron. Western background with mountains, a Native American on horse, and a woman in pioneer clothing.

A young teacher at a Navajo boarding school begins to wonder whether the mission is doing more harm than good.

After her life takes an unexpected turn in 1911, Caroline Haynes pursues a long-buried dream westward to teach at a Navajo mission boarding school. However, walls of hurt and cultural misunderstanding threaten to keep her from reaching the children she longs to touch. The handsome Rev. Willis Abernathy seems sure he knows what is best for the Navajo people—and for Caroline—but she finds herself drawn instead to Tse, the young Navajo man in charge of the mission’s livestock, who claims to still follow Christ despite returning to the ways of his people.

Tse Tsosie longs to introduce Jesus to his people in a way they can understand, but now that family need has brought him back to the mission, he battles past wounds and the disapproval of the missionaries. Meanwhile, Caroline’s arrival brings surprises and more turmoil to the school…and to Tse’s heart.

When crisis forces Tse and Caroline to make a choice, will they find a path together…or will the chasm between their peoples be too great to span?

Purchase Beneath a Turquoise Sky here!

“Beautifully written, Beneath a Turquoise Sky is as colorfully woven as a Navajo blanket with well-drawn characters, a fresh setting, and heartrending history. Kiersti Giron tells a tender, soul-stirring story unlike any other in this moving journey of change, forgiveness, new beginnings, and ultimately, love.”

~ Laura Frantz, Christy Award-winning author of Courting Morrow Little 

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One reader who leaves a comment on this post will win a copy of Beneath a Turquoise Sky! The winner will be randomly selected from the comments and announced on Sunday, June 8th!

Had you heard of the “Indian boarding schools” before? What is a little-known side of history that has surprised or sobered you?

Kiersti Giron writes stories to lift hearts toward hope and healing in our divided world. Her debut novel, Beneath a Turquoise Sky, came inspired by her years living in New Mexico near the Navajo Nation. Kiersti also collaborates on series of historical fiction series with bestselling author Lauraine Snelling. When she’s not writing, Kiersti enjoys spending time with her husband, little boy, and two kitties, as well as teaching writing and literature to teenagers. Learn more at http://www.kierstigiron.com or follow her on Instagram @kierstigiron or Facebook.

To Tame a Wild Horse — New Novella — Plus Giveaway

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

Have just released a new Young Adult, Novella #2 in the Untamed Frontier Series.  The title of the book is To Tame a Wild Horse.  It’s written under one of my pen names, Genny Cothern.

First let me tell you a little about the series and then the story of book #2.  The series is about two teenagers from completely different cultures, Good Eagle and Miss Starling.  When they first meet, he is eighteen and she is sixteen and they spark off of one another from the start.  But gradually, they become friends, though it’s a long, hard road.

 

Book #2 takes place about a year later and together they herd the horses for the Fort (where Starling’s uncle is the Factor), they hunt for the fort and they roam the prairies when they can.  They’ve become good friends.  And so, with this in mind, this is the back blurb for the book:

 

TO TAME A WILD HORSE

Montana, 1848

 

Can Friends Ever Fall In Love?

I have only been at Fort Lewis for a year, but my friendship with Good Eagle has blossomed and has brought me a kind of happiness like nothing I have ever known.  Daily I ride over the prairies and mountains with Good Eagle, and, I’ve now learned to herd horses, to hunt wild game and to aim at a target and bring it down.  But, when a grizzly threatens both Good Eagle and me, and, when Good Eagle commands me to hide from it while he faces the grizzly alone, I refuse.  Desert my best friend?  Never.

But, after we rescue some stolen horses, I begin to believe my friendship with Good Eagle might have been love from the very start.

This is not good.  Not only has Good Eagle given my Uncle Jed a promise to treat me like an almost-sister, we share nothing in common except our friendship.  Nothing.  And, when I slyly bring up the subject of love, Good Eagle reminds me of his vow to my uncle.

And yet, when we track and bring down the wild, black stallion we are seeking, Good Eagle gives me an unexpected gift.

Is falling in love really impossible, or are we merely too young to know our own hearts?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F89HQKVZ?tag=pettpist-20

This fictional story is inspired by the true adventures of Thomas Fox and Pitamakan, as written by James Willard Schultz from Thomas Fox’s handwritten legacy — and from Thomas relating the adventures of he and Pitamakan, while sitting around an evening’s cozy fire.

Pitamakan went on to become a great chief, but a quick search doesn’t pull up many results about him because Pitamakan means Running Eagle in Blackfeet and there was another Running Eagle, a girl warrior, and most accounts I’ve been able to find about Pitamakan are about the girl warrior, who, by the way had many adventures, as well, as told by her lifetime friend, Ap’ah, who was born on the same day as she.

 

Must admit I love telling these stories about friendship and honor, and about two people from completely opposing cultures who somehow manage to become friends.  And, I love learning about a history I had no knowledge of prior to doing this research.

Now, I’ll be giving away this new story to four (4) bloggers today.  So come on in and leave a comment.  And, May your week be filled with happiness and love!

 

 

It’s Raining eBooks!

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Howdy!  Welcome to a terribly terrific Tuesday!

Okay, so it’s not exactly raining books, but do you remember old pop song, “It’s Raining Men”?  I loved that song and it popped into my head while I was writing this blog.

What I mean by it’s raining books is that I intend to give an ebook to each person who leaves a comment on the blog.  Let me explain:  I plan on having two new books coming out soon (the Good Lord willing).  One is a Historical Romance/Native American, book #5 in The Medicine Man Series.  And the other is a Young Adult story, Novella #2 in The Untaimed West series.  So, to celebrate these two books that I hope will be soon released, I’m giving away either book #1 in the Young Adult series, THE ADVENTURES OF GOOD EAGLE AND MISS STARLING, or book #4 in The Medicine Man series, SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME to each person who leaves a comment…reader’s choice.  This offer expires, by the way, at 11:59 PM on April 8th, 2025.  Also, if you could please let me know on your post which book you would like, I would appreciate it.

So, I should probably tell you a little about each one of these stories, and to do that, I’ll leave a synopsis of each story.

THE ADVENTURES OF GOOD EAGLE AND MISS STARLING

Montana, 1847 

When my life is turned upside down, I have no one to turn to except Uncle Jed, a fur-trader who lives deep in Indian Country; a man I have never met.  I was expecting to be greeted by my Uncle Jed at a place called Fort Union, a fur-trading fort some two thousand miles above St. Louis.  But, when I finally arrive at the fort, I am met, instead, by an eighteen-year-old Indian, Good Eagle, who swears my uncle has sent him to meet me.  Would you trust this boy, a youth only two years older than my sixteen years?  I certainly didn’t and I told him so.  However, although I was polite, he took offense.

As the steamboat continues its way to my uncle’s fur-trading post, Fort Lewis, the Indian boy, Good Eagle, has declared that my heart has panther’s claws around it.  Yet, though he seems to dislike me as much as I do him, because of the promise he gave to my uncle, he has no option but to guard me.

But, when my life is threatened and Good Eagle saves me, I experience a change of heart about this young man; I decide I will “bury the hatchet” and become friends with him.  Imagine my surprise when he refuses my offer of friendship.

Can I ever change Good Eagle’s mind about becoming my friend?  Or will his first impression of me remain to forever haunt us?

 

SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME

 

A woman deserted.  A troubled warrior.  A passion denied.

1855

When eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér is forced to flee her home in Hungary, she journeys with her younger siblings and her father’s manservant to Montana in search of her cousin. Mourning for her recently deceased parents, she sings a prayer to the grand, Montana mountains.  From the first moment Stands Strong hears Czanna singing, he is transfixed.  When he meets her, he is captivated as much by her dark beauty as he is by her voice.

But, after the family’s hired guide steals their money and runs, her father’s servant leaves Czanna to go and serve justice to the man, leaving Czanna desolate and in charge.  Being of the gentry class in Hungary, Czanna knows she and her siblings cannot survive in this land without help.  When Stands Strong comes to her aid, she realizes she must trust this man.

Lakota born, though raised by the Blackfeet, Stands Strong descends from a long line of medicine men, but this legacy seems to have skipped over him.  Accepting this, he has become an expert scout.  But, when Czanna attempts to hire Stands Strong as their guide, offering him the “evil gold rock” as payment, he suggests marriage to him instead.  Czanna refuses him, even though the flame of love is burning heatedly in her heart.

Can two people from incompatible cultures ever come together?  Or are their star-guided paths meant only to briefly cross?

Warning:  A sensuous romance that might cause a desire to go West in search of love and adventure.

I’ll leave you today with a little bit about the new book which is currently in editing, entitled, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD.

 

Coming soon: SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD

Beauty, treachery, and an untamed wild love

Liliann Varga had been too young the first time she met and fell head-over-heels in love with the Blackfeet Medicine Man, First Rider, the man who saved her father’s life. Besides, he was newly married to a woman of his own tribe. But years later, when Liliann’s husband has committed a terrible aggression against her, it’s First Rider who once again is called upon to put his healing skills to use.

First Rider has come to heal Liliann, not to seduce her. But his reaction to the grown up Liliann, the little girl who used to be his shadow, is entirely masculine and sensual. Though he’d vowed to bring his first wife back after her capture by an enemy tribe, he’d failed and she had died, causing First Rider to nearly lose his mind. Could Liliann be his second chance at love?

Enacting a “scout’s revenge” against Liliann’s cruel husband would leave the man alive but broken, and it would also set Liliann free. But, just as their love deepens, a report emerges: First Rider’s wife is still alive.

To discover the truth or lies of the report, they both embark on a dangerous journey through the Backbone-of-the-world Mountains. But, with little more than a bow and a gun, can they survive the beautiful but treacherous snows to find a world where they both belong?

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Well, that’s all for today.  Hope you enjoyed the blog today and I hope, too, that you’ll leave a commit.

 

 

 

A New Book Soon to be Released — and a Give-away

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Welcome to another sensational Tuesday!

What am I giving away this month?  I’ll be doing a drawing for the mass market paperback (this is the original edition of this book) of RED HAWK’S WOMAN.

This is book #3 in THE LOST CLAN series.  Though all the books are related, they are all different stories and are all a stand alone book.  Originally published by Berkley in the early 2000’s, it is a solid historical book with a strong mystery connected to it, as well as a paranormal element.

But, please allow me to give you a synopsis of the book

RED HAWK’S WOMAN

Their passion is thunder and lightning.  Their fate could be a flood of sorrow.

THE LOST CLAN, BOOK 3

Red Hawk’s most precious childhood memory is of a single morning with a girl whose beauty seemed lit from within with magic.  Now, years later, she could very well hold the key to a centuries-old curse – but when his visions lead him to her again, no recognition lights her eyes.

At age twenty-five, Effie Rutledge has missed her chance for marriage, but the daughter of a renowned archaeologist would rather get her hands dirty on a dig than cleaning up after some man.

She is determined to finish her father’s quest to recover four precious artifacts that could free a lost clan from a half life in the mists, but with her expedition reported as jinxed, there are no guides to be had.  Except one tall, enigmatic native who draws her as naturally as water flows to the sea.

Even when memories reconnect, they struggle to trust each other.  Worse, their once-in-a-lifetime passion risks the Thunder god’s wrath – and the future of the entire Lost Clan.

Warning:  Within the pages of this book is an all-consuming passion, so deep, so sensuous, it might cause you to want to spend the night in a loved one’s arms.

To enter into the drawing for this book, just leave a comment.

And then, on another note, I thought I’d let you know that my latest effort, entitled, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD, is in editing right now and I hope to have the book published and out for sale in early April.

And so I thought I’d give you an inside glance at the cover for the book.  This is book #5 in The Medicine Man series.  As you can see, this is a winter scene and the hero of the book is wearing a capote, an item of clothing worn by many of the Northwestern tribes in the winter.

But, what is a capote?  The capote in these days of the past was a blanket made into a coat.  Usually it was white and might have strips on it or other decorations.  These commonly had a hood, were very warm and were preferred by the men of the tribes because of it’s white color, which blended in with the countryside and made it a little easier when they were hunting.

Nowadays, capotes are still in style in the northern regions of this country, but they are also a little fancier.  But, they are still made in the style of the original, which was a blanket made into a coat.  I’ll post some pictures here so you can see them as they were worn in the late 1800’s.

This is one of my favorite pictures of the time because it shows the style of the capote, the hair style worn at this time by many of the northern tribes and also shows the style of the white man’s clothing.  These two young men were obviously friends.  Note the beautifully beaded gun case our Blackfeet (Pikuni band) young man carries.  The coat the young Blackfeet man is wearing is a capote.

To the right here are a couple of Blackfeet (Pikuni band) men wearing capotes.  Notice also the style of the two women’s clothing in the photo.  All are wearing moccasins.
This is another Blackfeet young man, although he is of the blood band of the tribe, which resides in Canada.  He is holding some kind of weapon, perhaps a tomahawk or something similar to it.
This picture was posed in front of a tepee or lodge (as they were often called).  And note the hairstyle and moccasins.  The Blackfeet wore three braids.  One on each side of the face and one in back.
And this last picture is a painting by Karl Bodmer (the artist who accompanied Prince Maximillian in 1832 to Fort McKensie)  It is of special interest to me because the blanket he is wearing is one which could have been made into a capote.
Notice the difference in hairstyle between the 1830’s northern style and the later style abive (1850-1890).
Well, so much for men’s fashion in coats and the blankets they wore during the winter while hunting or attending to other chores.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this little excursion into the past.
If you’d like to enter the drawing, just leave a comment
Have a beautiful and a blessed day as well as for rest of the week.

New 25th Anniversary Book Just Released — Plus a Giveaway

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Howdy!  Howdy!  And Welcome to another terrfic Tuesday!

News!  News!

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LONE ARROW’S PRIDE

Buried Treasure Shines Brightest in the Dark

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here is the Amazon link for the book:

https://tinyurl.com/LONEARROWSPRIDE

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

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Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Just Who Is the Medicine Man

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Howdy!  Howdy!

And Welcome to another terrific Tuesday.  Yay!

Am hoping y’all had a wonderful 4th and are ready to jump back into work, family, and life in general.

Well, I know this is a bit of an odd topic, but I gotta tell you, when I first started writing about the American Indian Medicine Man, I really didn’t have a clue.  All the while I was writing book#1 (She Steals My Breath), I was reading and studying and for those who believe in a bit of the paranormal, I had some help from a spirit medicine man, who came to me during a time of great trauma and who seemed to help guide me through the rough passages.

And so, a few years later and now writing book #5 in the series, I feel I can perhaps write about what I have discovered about these fascinating men.

To the right is a photo of Black Elk, one of the most famous of the Lakota Medicine Men.  This picture was snapped when he was touring Europe with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show.  He became a medicine man when he was only nineteen (I think that’s right — it might have been eighteen, but I think he was nineteen).  The book, BLACK ELK SPEAKS by John G. Neihardt, details his illness and his dream that caused him to become a medicine man.

He was a very handsome man, as well as a defender of his people, and he remained handsome and his people’s defender all his life.

Another book that has done much to bring the mind-set of the medicine man to me is the book, Fools Crow by Thomas E. Mails.  This book, and especially the chapter called “We Medicine Men,” was enlightening to me.  These men were not shaman’s who could be good and do lots of good, or could be the opposite.

Not so the medicine man.  To the right here is a Kiowa Medicine man and his wife and child.  Now, when I first started studying the medicine man, I relied on the observations of George Catlin, who traveled West in the 1830’s and met the medicine men and chiefs and others within the tribe and painted their pictures.

And so I’m going to include here a little of what I have learned in these few years of my study of this subject.  I’m hoping to include this little “write-up” I did of the medicine men in book #5.  So here is where I am today on this subject:

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

THE MEDICINE MAN:

Because of my constant study of books in this field, I have become more and more aware of just what was a medicine man in the long ago days, and so I thought I would try to define this word or this man as it was known and used before the turn of the 19th century (the 1800’s).  Also, because the word, medicine, has a different connotation today than what was traditionally meant by an American Indian Medicine Man, it seems only right that I should try my best to define this word, medicine, as it was used traditionally.  Author and painter, George Catlin, tried as best he could to define the word, medicine, and to define the “medicine men,” also.

From his book in the early 1830’s, LETTERS AND NOTES ON THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND CONDITIONS OF NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS, Mr. Catlin writes:  “The Fur Traders in this country, are nearly all French; and in their language, a doctor or physician, is called ‘Medecin.’  The Indian country is full of doctors; and as they are all magicians, and skilled, or profess to be skilled, in many mysteries, the word “medecin” has become habitually applied to every thing mysterious or unaccountable; and the English and Americans….have easily and familiarly adopted the same word, with a slight alteration, conveying the same meaning; and to be a little more explicit, they have denominated these personages “medicine-men,” which means something more than merely a doctor or physician.”

Note:  The photo to the right here is of a Blackfeet medicine man and his wife.

Mr. Catlin goes on to write that these Medicine Men were of the highest order in their tribes.  He goes on to say this: when the medicine man was called upon to help the sick or the injured, he generally first used roots and herbs as many people today do, too.  But if those failed, Mr. Catlin observed that those men would resort to the use of their “medicine,” or the mystery that each medicine man possessed.  And, each medicine man had his own dress and ritual he would perform over a sick, dying or injured person, using dances, rattles, and singing his song or songs of healing.  Mr. Catlin also made a note that the medicine men of the past used, “magic” to heal, saying he was often successful, and many “mysterious” or “magical” healings occurred because of the medicine man’s skills.

It is in reference to the use of the word, “magic,” that I wish to address more specifically, because this reference I have found, while not a lie, is also not quite true in my opinion.  But, let me explain.

Mr. Catlin was not an American Indian, and so he defined the word in the best way he knew how and he describes a sort of “magic” that he could see was being used by these medicine men.  This is understandable, because Mr. Catlin wrote about what he could see was happening from his own view of the world as he knew it.

However, there are now more recent books on the topic of how the medicine man was able to heal: one of these books is, Fools Crow—Fools Crow by Thomas E. Mails— another of these books is Black Elk Speaks, by John G. Neihardt.  And so we now know that it was not necessarily magic the American Indian Medicine Man was utilizing to heal, but rather it was his devotion and prayers to the Creator who, working through the medicine man, healed the sick and the dying.  In other words,the Creator was healing the sick…through the medicine man.  I do not believe the Creator or God should ever be left out of the equation of healing.

Note: the picture to the left is a Crow man standing outside a medicine tepee.

In the old days, a real medicine man never believed that it was he who was healing the sick.  He was always well aware, as were others within the tribe, that it was the Creator who healed those in need.  And He healed via the Medicine Man.

Again, I quote from George Catlin’s book, LETTERS AND NOTES ON THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND CONDITIONS OF NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS:

“These men…are valued as dignitaries in the tribe, and the greatest respect is paid to them by the whole community;… In all councils of the war and peace, they have a seat with the chiefs — are regularly consulted before any public step is taken, and the greatest deference and respect is paid to their opinions.”

 To the right here is another Kiowa medicine man and his wife.

Before ending, I’d like to say this about the “magic” George Catlin beheld and wrote about.  In delving back into history, I’ve discovered that there were medicine men and medicine women who were so in tune with themselves and nature around them, they appeared to be doing “magic.”  However, to many of these men, what they were doing was to them more common place than what we see in our fast-paced world today.

For instance, I write about the “mind-speak” that all medicine men and almost all scouts could do at a distance or up close.  There is on record an entire council of medicine men who “talked” about and decided upon a course of action without a single word being said nor using hand gestures.  The scout could tune into the vibration of the woods and know when something came into those woods that wasn’t supposed to be there.

I guess today we would say this was magic because we are not used to being this close to nature or even to each other.  And yet, men and women who have been married for a long time often know exactly what the other person is going to say before he/she even says it.  Some even complete sentences for the other.  So, I guess what I’m saying is that I think this “magic” that was witnessed by many people during the 1800’s was, perhaps, to them more commonplace than we would think of it today.

By the way, I am NOT saying magic doesn’t exist or that it wasn’t used, but I do think … from my studies that what we would call “magic” was more common place back then, if only because the people, themselves were so close to nature, to each other and to God.

These medicine men and medicine women could talk to animals, to each other, to plants, to trees and often — according to them — in their own language.   I talk to my plants and they “talk” back to me if I am in a mind to listen to them.  And, sometimes when my attention isn’t even on them, they get my attention and tell me what they need

 

To the right here is Peter Mitchell, Medicine chief during the Ghost Dance.

This actually isn’t a very good picture of him — he was a very handsome man.

From my studies of the past and of these men and women, I find a real devotion to God (each tribe had a different name for God — I call Him in my books, the Creator) and to the people of their tribe.  I once read a story of two Blackfeet Medicine Men who, upon learning that their “medicine” wasn’t working, counselled together and discovered that they were praying using the tobacco given to them by the traders.  Because it was their devotion and love for their people, they decided to once again grow their own tobacco, which they did (having many adventures) and when done, they found they were able to help their people again.

 

Here is another picture of Dust Maker — Peter Mitchell, with his wife.

Well, this is what I have discovered from my studies.  These men had some mysterious qualities, as did many of the American Indians, both men and women.  And this is what I think might be true and so I thought I would blog about it today.

How I wish we had learned from one another instead of what happened.

Let me remind you that my latest effort, She Brings Beauty To Me, is still on sale at a 25% discount…but only for a short time longer.

Please pickup your book here:  https://tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

So, I would love to hear your opinion about his — no matter what it is — so please do come on in and leave a message.  By the way, the site is experiencing some difficulties, making it hard for an author to answer comments.  But, perhaps it will be fixed today.  But, I will check in to see your posts and I will answer if I can and if not, at least I will be able to learn of your thoughts.

 

 

Would You Love an Easy Homemade from Scratch Vanilla Pudding Recipe? Read on…

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Who doesn’t love vanilla pudding? Especially on these hot summer days when a gal just doesn’t want to turn on the oven?  I gotta admit I’ve been flipping through all my “over-the-stove” recipes cause I just don’t want to turn on that oven.

I even did a stew today instead of a roast.  If it’s hot in your home state and you love an easy, sweet treat, well, you’ve come to the right blog today.

 

By the way, this picture comes courtesy of the site: theseoldcookbooks.com — I love the old cookbooks, too.  But, let me share my mother-in-law’s made from scratch vanilla pudding recipe.

Vanilla Pudding without cornstarch

1/3 Cup Sugar, mixed well with:

1/4 Cup Flour

Mix in 1 egg and

1/2 Cup Milk (I mix 1/4 cup milk and 1/4 cup cream because cream to me is a food of joy.

Stir until smooth.

Then add 1 1/2 Cup More Milk (or milk and cream)

Add two tablespoons butter.

Stir while cooking over medium heat until thickened.  This takes about 5-6 minutes.

After cooking add 1 teaspoon vanilla.

This is the recipe to use if you are making banana pudding for a pie — or if you just want some homemade banana pudding.  If you do, add two bananas.

That’s it.  Easy and it didn’t really heat up the kitchen.

Now, let me do an add on, just in case you like to make your own spices.

My sister had a son who was allergic to All spice and so here is a substitution that might work since it imparts a similar kind of taste.

ALL SPICE:

1 Teaspoon Ceylon Cinnamon

1/2 Teaspoon Cloves

1/2 Teaspoon Nutmeg

Mix together.  Enjoy!

And now for some NEWS:

My latest effort, SHE BRING BEAUTY TO ME, will be steeply discounted tomorrow, the 25th of June though the 27th of June 2024.  For those three days, the price of the ebook will be $.99 cents.  After the 27th of June, however, the book will revert to its 25% discounted price of $3.49 for the rest of the month.

So if you haven’t picked up your copy of the ebook yet, now might be a good time to add it to your e-reader.  https:  tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

Do you have a favorite pudding recipe?  If so, come on in and tell me about it.

New Release & Give-Away

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Howdy!  Howdy!

Good morning, or evening!

Yes, indeed.  I have a new release out and it is book #4 in the new Medicine Man series.

And today, I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of the book to a lucky blogger.  Please leave a message.

As I often do when I have a new release out, I post an excerpt of the book, and I’ll be doing this today, also  Just as a mention, my respect for these two characters grew as the story progressed.  Both of them so different, yet both of them had so much respect for each other.

So the excerpt I’ll leave with you today comes at the very start of the novel, and is the Prologue.

 

This is the back blurb for the book:

A woman deserted.  A troubled warrior.  A passion denied. 

  1. When eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér is forced to flee her home in Hungary, she journeys with her younger siblings and her father’s manservant to Montana in search of her cousin. Mourning for her recently deceased parents, she sings a prayer to the grand, Montana mountains.  From the first moment Stands Strong hears Czanna singing, he is transfixed.  When he meets her, he is captivated as much by her dark beauty as he is by her voice.

But, after the family’s hired guide steals their money and runs, her father’s servant leaves Czanna to go and serve justice to the man, leaving Czanna desolate and in charge.  Being of the gentry class in Hungary, Czanna knows she and her siblings cannot survive in this land without help.  When Stands Strong comes to her aid, she realizes she must trust this man.

Lakota born, though raised by the Blackfeet, Stands Strong descends from a long line of medicine men, but this legacy seems to have skipped over him.  Accepting this, he has become an expert scout.  But, when Czanna attempts to hire Stands Strong as their guide, offering him the “evil gold rock” as payment, he suggests marriage to him instead.  Czanna refuses him, even though the flame of love is burning heatedly in her heart.

Can two people from incompatible cultures ever come together?  Or are their star-guided paths meant only to briefly cross?

Warning:  A sensuous romance that might cause a desire to go West in search of love and adventure.

 

She Brings Beauty To Me

By

Karen Kay

PROLOGUE

Pest, Hungary

The Estate of József and Mária Fehér

Spring 1855

  

“Czanna, hurry.  There is no time to waste!”

“What is it, Frederic?”  Eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér stepped from her bedroom into the grand hallway on the upper level of her family’s ancestral mansion.  By closing the heavy wooden door against her maid, who still lingered in the room, Czanna ensured her conversation with her brother would remain private.  It was important in these days after the Grand Revolution of 1848.  Even the walls had “ears.”  Indeed, since the revolution for independence had failed, their entire family was constantly on guard against spies.

Taking her brother’s outstretched hand, Czanna rushed with him down the hall, noticing details about the corridor she had always taken for granted: the white, gold-flecked marble flooring; the gold, woolen curtains and the gold hardware holding them in place; the white and gold tiles of the arched ceiling and the white columns with gold trim that supported them.

At the end of the passage loomed her favorite feature, though it stood more exactly outside the hallway.  There at the very end of the pathway stood a heavy gold-flecked glass door, opening up onto a balcony that supported a three-tiered fountain from which water fell down in every direction and at every hour of the day.  At the very top of the white fountain stood the statue of Dacso Fehér, one her noble ancestors.  And, there he reposed, captured in time, ever alert and ready to take action to defend his home, should there be a need.

Yet, she had only a moment to admire the grand walkway and its balcony because Frederic was ushering her toward the third-floor study, a room where they had often played in their youth.  He opened the door, closing it as they both hurried past the large rectangular desk that stood so stately upon a wall-to-wall woolen rug of blue and gold.  Her brother didn’t hesitate in his movements, ignoring the alcove overlooking the estate and guiding her into a corner of the room.  There he paused, and, since Frederic was acting in so clandestine a manner, Czanna prayed the acoustics of the spot would keep their conversation from being overheard.

As soon as they were both seated in the blue-and-gold chairs and were facing one another, she asked, “What has happened?”

Frederic looked cautiously around the room before he murmured, “Our parents have been arrested and are awaiting trial.”

“Arrested?  Awaiting trial?  Surely you jest!”

“I do not,” he said.  “Indeed, it is true.  There is even talk of hanging them both for their part in the rebellion of 1848.”

“No!  It cannot be true!  The new government would never go so far as to arrest a nobleman and his wife.”

Frederic reached out and took Czanna’s hand into his own as though to comfort her.  But, such consolation lasted only a moment before his gaze bore into her own, and he said, “I fear it is no lie.  Now, listen to me carefully.  Someone—and we don’t know who—has reported our parents as part of the noblemen who helped Lajos Kossuth when he was in power in 1848.  As you know, his followers, save some who escaped, have either been imprisoned or executed.”

“No!”  Czanna let out a scream.

“Sh-h-h.  Do not cry out again, Czanna.  Now, listen and hear me well.  I am working with others who supported the Kossuth revolution; we are planning to make an appeal to Emperor Franz Joseph to free our parents.  I believe we will be successful.  But, you must remain strong as I tell you this next part: our entire family, including you and me as well as our little brother and sister, could be hung along with our parents if the appeal does not go well.”

Czanna gasped.  “But, I thought the new government had proclaimed they would support the idea of freedom for all, including all those who supported the 1848 Revolution.”

“Although there is talk of this, it is not true,” replied Fredric.  “Listen carefully.  I was able to speak briefly to our father today, and we both agree you and the rest of the family must flee.  It is for your own safety and the preservation of our family.  You must leave here this very night, and you must take our younger brother and sister with you.”

“Tonight?  Leave Hungary?  Leave the only home I’ve ever known?”

“I fear you must,” answered Frederic.  “Neither I nor our father can envision any other way to keep you and the rest of our family safe.”

Czanna looked away, forcing herself to become calm.  Then, after a moment, she said softly, “Yes, of course.  I am sorry I am so shocked; it is only that—” Her voice broke.  Then, looking up at her brother, she asked, “And you?  You have mentioned our brother and sister, but what about you?  You are coming with us, are you not?”

Frederic glanced away from her, his composure hard, although a muscle twitched in his cheek.  At last, he said, “No.  I am staying here.  I fear I cannot escape with you.  There are people I am working with who also wish to free our parents, and if I am not here to help these people, our parents’ freedom is not assured.”

“Oh, I see.  You are to stay here and help our parents.  And, of course there is no one else who will work harder than you to free them.  Still, if I must leave tonight, how will I ever be able to go away unseen?  Where would I go?”

“To America.  You must go to America.”

“To America?  But, America is so far away, and I hear it is a savage land.”

“Yes, I have been given rumors to believe the same as you,” said Frederic.  “But, there are reasons why America is the only country where our father and I believe you and the rest of the family will be safe.  It is there where you will be able to hide yourself from any Hungarian spies.  I have already spoken to our father’s manservant, Henrik, and I have asked him to accompany you.  He, however, refused the coin I offered him to do it.  He said it is his duty to ensure you and our brother and sister are kept as safe as possible.  He will guide you and shelter you as much as he is able.  He also understands why I must stay here to try to free our father and our mother, and he agrees with our father and me.  He has also given me his solemn word of honor to help you and our brother and sister to reach the American frontier with as little incident as possible.  Henrik will, of course, be bringing his own daughter with him.”

“Yes, of course.  Since she is his only family, she, too, must embark upon this journey.  Although she is barely ten years and four, I believe I shall welcome her assistance very much, especially since our younger sister is still a babe.”

“Yes.  Now, listen well to me.  You and the others are to sail north on the Danube this very night, and once you are out of the city of Pest, you and the others will go by coach to the coast, there to set sail for America.  I have purchased the boarding tickets for you all on a ship sailing from the port there tomorrow.  The name of the ship is on the tickets.  I will now give them to you and not to Henrik.  Count them and ensure there are five.”  Frederic handed her the tickets.

“Yes.  There are five tickets here.”

“Good.  Now, come, I have a private box in this study where I have stored the papers you will need as well as enough gold and silver so you will be able to buy lodging and food.  Keep the money on your person at all times.  I have two strong, but light bags to serve this purpose.  Do not store the coin in a trunk or any other convenience that is separate from you, nor are you to tell anyone, including Henrik, about the treasure you will be carrying on your person.  I’m sorry.  I know this is a heavy burden I am forced to place upon you, but there is no other manner in which to ensure you will be safe from harm.  Never show what I am to give to you to another soul either—not to our younger brother and certainly not to Henrik.  I will give Henrik other monies so he will not suspect that you also carry a treasure with you.  Please bend close for what I am about to show you and tell you.  These very walls may well have ears.  I fear I am placing you now as the head of our family from this day forward.  This family now extends to both Henrik and his daughter.”

“But…about the gold and silver.  I understand what you say about showing it to no one, including Henrik.  However, Henrik has been with our family for his entire life, and he wouldn’t—”

“I trust no one,” interrupted Frederic.  “Someone reported our parents for their part in the revolution—someone who knows us and has access to our parents’ secret papers.  Because this spy is within our midst, we are all in danger.  Do you understand?  We could all be tried for treason and hung.”

“But, Frederic, since our youngest sister, Béla, is only three years old, surely it is possible for her to stay here.  After all, it will be a hard journey for her.  Is there no other way?”

“There is none.  It will be worse for her if she stays, and this is another reason why I spoke long and ardently to Henrik about the need to bring his daughter with him.  I could not have rightly placed you into the position as the head of our family if you also had to act as a nanny for Béla.  Henrik’s daughter, Lilike, will care for Béla, which will leave you free to think clearly about what is best for our family.  Do you have any other questions?”

“I…I—”

“You all must flee…and tonight.  I do not know how much time we have until the palace guards come here to arrest our entire family.”

“I…I can hardly believe it.”

“I know.”

Glancing up at Frederic’s solemn face, Czanna was startled to realize this might be the last time she would ever see her brother, unless…  “Brother, if we are all in danger, then you must come with us.  I beg you.  Come with us.”

“I cannot,” Frederic replied.  “You know I cannot.  I have it in my power to free our parents and clear our family’s name.  This means more to me than my life.  Please understand, I must stay here and fight.  But, you must go.  You must find safety in America.  Lose yourself in the wild western frontier of America.  Do not use our family name.  Trust no one.  And, under no circumstances are you to return to Hungary.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Frederic confirmed, shaking his head.  “I believe it must be so.  There seems to be no empathy in the new government towards those who strove to free the people.  But, do not fear.  There is yet a ray of light in all of this.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember our cousin Alfred?”

Czanna nodded.  “I do.  He is about ten years older than you, I think.”

“Yes, he is older than I.  Do you remember him being a part of the Revolution, also?”

“Yes, I do,” said Czanna.  “But, he became a Hungarian forty-eighter and escaped into the American West, didn’t he?  I assume he must have changed his name in order to evade capture.”

“Yes, he did,” replied Frederic.  “But, he and I have been writing to one another these last seven years.  I wish I knew where he is located exactly in the American West.  I know only the following: he uses the English name of Old Tom Johnson and he lives within the Glacier Mountains located in the far corner of the Northwest Indian Country.  I have written to him, informing him of what is happening here to our entire family, and I have told him to watch for you and our siblings in the next few years.  But, since I do not know exactly where he makes his home in the Glacier Mountains, I am trusting you—not Henrik— to hire a guide to take you to him.”

“But, why not Henrik?”

“Let me say this one more time: someone who knows us and who has access to our papers betrayed us.  I like Henrik, same as you.  But, I trust no one except you to take our family to safety.”

Czanna nodded.

“Now, I have also written a letter that I will give to you to take to our cousin, whom you may call Tom Johnson.  I am putting this letter into your care to present to him once you locate him; plus, there is one more of our family’s possessions which is, perhaps, the most important of all I have to give you.  Our father begs you to find our cousin and give him this.”  Frederic reached inside his coat to draw out an object carefully wrapped in the finest linen.  Looking around the room, inspecting its nooks and crannies in detail, he then gave the package his attention and unwrapped the linen.

Czanna gasped.  “Why, it’s our…our—”

“Coat of arms, our Crest.  It is worth a treasure, not only because it is made of bronze, gold and silver, but because it is also a seal we must preserve.  Our father instructed me to caution you to hide it well, and, to this end, I have personally created a trap in your trunk where you may hide our seal.  When you at last find our cousin, you are to give our family’s crest to him.  It is important.  The seal must be preserved, even if our country falls.  It will also identify you to our cousin.  Our father wishes you to give our cousin the seal because, if my plea to Emperor Franz Joseph fails, our cousin would then be the oldest living member of our family.  As you well know, it is always the eldest of our family who must bear the responsibility for preserving it.  Seek out our cousin.  He will help you.  Give him my letter and the seal and ask him to help you all to disappear into the rugged country of the American West.  I fear there may well be Hungarian agents who will try to follow you.  Do you understand?”

“I do.  But, Frederic.  How can I go there and leave you here knowing…knowing…?”

Frederic again shook his head.  “I cannot go with you.  Please understand this: my duty is here.  When you arrive in America, send me word of your arrival but say nothing more.  I believe you will need to hire a coach to take you to a settlement called St. Louis.  From there, you can book passage aboard a steamboat that will take you into the depths of the American West.  Our cousin has written to me telling me he has become a fur trapper.  I admit I think it is a terrible occupation, but it is, perhaps, the only livelihood for a man in the ruggedness of America.  At least where he is now, he is not in the line of fire.  Join him there, and once you are safe from harm, use the money I have given you to buy property, if you can.  I will do my best to free our parents.  I cannot emphasize this enough: do not let anyone know you carry with you a treasure in gold and silver, nor tell another living soul about the family crest; you are not even to say a word about this to our siblings, and certainly not to Henrik.”

“But, I must have some money I can easily show and use to buy necessities.  If I am to hire a man to take us to our cousin, I must—”

“Of course you will have to carry some coin with you.  But, what I am giving you to carry on your person is more than mere coin.”

“Oh, yes, of course.  Yes.  I understand now.”

“Hear me well, and do not forget what I am about to tell you: until this is over, you can trust no one who is Hungarian, except, of course, our cousin.  Someone has betrayed us.  Now, remember these words I say to you: do not ever come back to Hungary for any reason.”

“But, Frederic, not ever?”

“Not ever.  Swear this to me now: you are never to return to Hungary.”

“But, what if—?”

“Do you swear?”

Gazing up into her brother’s solemn expression, Czanna nodded and whispered, “I swear.”

“Good.  As you know, our family is one of the noble families who sided with the Revolution.  I do not have the knowledge of what the future holds here.  But, whatever our future is to be, I and our father and mother wish you and our siblings to survive.  Make a new life for yourself, as well as for our brother and sister.  Do you understand?”
Czanna nodded.

“Good.  Now, grab your cloak, gather our siblings together and go!  Outside of what I’ve given you, take nothing else with you.”

“But, my clothes, my shoes, my—”

“They are all Hungarian made.  You must disappear.  You and our brother and sister are to have nothing with you or on you that can identity you as to whom you really are.  Now, Henrik waits outside with a coach.”

Czanna’s brother, who was probably her best friend in all the world as well as being her brother, took both her hands into his own.  Breathing in deeply, he said, “Farewell, Czanna.  I will miss you and the others.  I am sorry to burden you with so much responsibility.  If there were a way to do it, I would take the cares of the world away from you, our sister and our brother.  I, alone, would carry this weight if I could.  But, there is not a manner by which to do it.  I must free our parents.  I will write.  Look for my letters, but do not write back to me except to inform me of your journey and that you have reached America.  Know this: I will never ask where you are and you are never to tell me.  Nor will I ever ask you to go against your word and return to Hungary.  Again, I am sorry I have to burden you with this, but upon your shoulders rests the future life of our family.”

Czanna nodded, looking down and hiding, if only for a moment, the shock as well as the tears in her eyes.  It was at some length when, at last, clearing her throat, she said, “I know and I understand the burden I carry.  Farewell, Frederic.  We will see one another again.  I am certain of it.”

“Let us hope your words will hold true.”

Standing up, Frederic reached out a hand to pull Czanna to her feet.  He hugged her, and, as was tradition, he kissed her gently on each side of her face.  Then, Czanna stood to her tiptoes and, reaching up, returned the endearment.

Shaking a little, Czanna stepped back and, turning away, hurried from the study, rushing toward her younger siblings’ rooms.

“Farewell,” she called as she reached the door.

“Farewell, Czanna,” answered Frederic.  “Godspeed.”

Hail Stone (Crow) and his wife, Alvina.  Although Hail Stone was from the Crow tribe, I simply l love this photo — it looks like they might have met in one of the Wild West Shows.  It is a picture showing the love between two people regardless of their cultures.

Anyway, that’s it for today.  Do leave a comment.  And have a happy day and rest of the week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can pick up your copy of She Brings Beauty To Me here:

https://tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

 

 

Petticoats & Pistols