The Native American Medicine MAn

Fun Historical Facts and Giveaway

by

Howdy!  And welcome to another awesome Tuesday!

Recently, I decided to redo the cover for Book #1 in the Medicine Man Series.  I’d asked my cover artist if she might consider doing a cover with the image of the hairstyles of the American Iindians on the Plains in the 1830’s.  Book #1 is set in the 1830’s (SHE STEALS MY BREATH) and so I thought I’d ask because my cover artist is really an artist and she often draws things on my covers by hand (with online tools).

So let me first take you back to the 1830’s in an area of the country known as INDIAN TERRITORY.  George Catlin, as well as Karl Bodmer (accompanying  Prince Maxmilian onto the Plains) made trips into the interior of the north country, and they left a record of their travels.  What I had always noticed about these paintings was that the men often changed their hair styles, while the women generally wore their hair in braids.  This doesn’t necessarily hold true for the more southern tribes, but when I look at the northern tribes, these men pretty much wore their hair in a similar manner

Here are two men from the Nez Perce tribe who lived on the western side of the Blackbone-of-the-world Mountains (the Rockies).  Catlin met these two men when he was on a steamboat.  Interestingly, both men were on a mission for their tribe to see out the “Black Robe” and ask him about his religion and invite him to come to their tribe.

To the right here is an Assiniboine Indian (the Assiniboine were located farther east and a little more north of Crow Indians in what we now know as Montana.

In the center here is a Lakota man and below that is a Cheyenne chief.  The same hairstyle held true for most of the Northern tribes during this period: The Blackfeet, the Crow and the Cree.

And so, because my cover artist is a real artist and sometimes paints different images into a particular image she is working with, I asked her if she might be able to do a cover showing this particular men’s hairstyle.

Cat022

Below is the result:

This is the cover that my cover artist created for me and I absolutely love it.

Many things I love about this cover, but outside of the image of the hero and the heroine, I love the sky and the mountains.  Montana is often called The Big Sky Country and so I love that this image also highlights the sky.

This first book is currently on sale for $.99 and my newest book (Just released) in the Medicine Man series is sale for $3.59 at Amazon.

Note the difference in hair style between the 1830’s and the 1879’s.  My newest book is set in the 1870’s and at this time we have a completely different hairstyle that the men are wearing…again, almost tribe to tribe a very similar hair style.  Some differences, but many things that are similar about them.   This fellow in the middle here is Blackfeet.  Note the braids and the hair is now almost straight up and parted on the side.

The Picture below is of a Crow man:  Note how similar the style is at this time period.

The same styles were seen in the Flathead and the Nez Perce tribes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so I now would like  you to see how my cover artist showed this particular hair style on my newest cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think both of these covers (that are new to me) are so very well done and show the different hair styles at this time in history.

What do you think?  Hope found this little bit of history interesting.

Both of these books are on sale:

SHE STEALS MY BREATH:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TNDS67H?tag=pettpist-20 — This book is on sale for $.99.

IF SHE WERE MINE:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GWY3P5KS?tag=pettpist-20 — This book is on sale at a 40% discount at $3.59.

Please come on in and leave a post.  I’ll be giving away a free copy of the book, SHE STEALS MY BREATH.

 

 

 

New Story, IF SHE WERE MINE, is on Pre-Order

by

Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Well, while we are getting the e-book ready to publish (all the editing and proofing is now done) we’ve put the new book up for a Pre-Order.  Here is the link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GWY3P5KS?tag=pettpist-20

It’s on sale at 40% off what the price will be once all the promotion is done for its release — that is to say, it’s regular price is $5.99.

And I’ve tweaked the blurb a little for Amazon.  Here is the new blurb:

 

AI-FREE! 100% organic author-created content. No artificial intelligence was used in the writing of this book.

If you enjoy stories about how love can win, despite terrible wrongs and extreme prejudice, this story is for you.

A star-crossed love, treachery, and a desire that will not be denied.

Briella Feher is in love, but not with her fiancé. Her father has exiled her from the sweeping plains of Montana to New York City “for her own safety,” commanding her to marry within her heritage and class. Raised in Indian Territory, Briella was shaped as much by the Pikuni—Blackfeet—people as by her aristocratic Hungarian family. Viewed as a cowgirl, Briella doesn’t fit in with society. Perhaps it’s the guns she wears strapped to her evening gowns. Her heart has always belonged to Red Fox, the Pikuni medicine man who taught her to survive on the prairie, the man who was her teacher, her first love. When James Maximillian III proposes—with the condition that he keep his mistress—Briella accepts, seeing his proposal as her only path back to Montana and to Red Fox.

Two years apart have not cooled the fire between Briella and Red Fox, yet his honor won’t allow him to claim this woman who is promised to another. With the escalation of the Indian/Cavalry wars, Red Fox believes distance is the only way to protect the woman he loves. Then a vision reveals a devastating truth: Briella’s fiancé is hiding a lie that could shatter every vow. It’s now up to Red Fox to find the truth.

But, time is running out and forces are aligned against them. Can Red Fox find the proof and expose the treachery in time to alter the ending of their Romeo and Juliet romance, or will he lose Briella forever in a romance destined for tragedy?

Warning: This is a forbidden love story—forbidden by both sets of parents–which begs the question: will the hero and heroine get a second chance at love? Set in the 1870’s, this sensual love story is sprinkled with paranormal, Native American style. But, if you love the old west as it was lived and loved by the First Americans, you’re going to love this story.

And I should tell you I will be giving away a free e-book from this series — winner’s choice.

So let me share another except from the new book.  In this story both the heroine’s and the hero’s parents are against these two marrying.  Both have “good” reasons, so they think.  But, when all is said and done, love will win out.

IF SHE WERE MINE

By

Karen Kay

Excerpt #2

Grasping hold of the parfleche tube he had tied onto his pony, Red Fox took out his white buckskin clothing and shook out the garments. These were his best, his fanciest, buckskin clothing. They had been given to him by his grandfather upon the first event of Red Fox having publicly healed a rich man’s pony, it having become lame because of a disease upon its leg.

His grandfather had been a bigger man than he, and several snows ago, Red Fox had cut, sewn and tailored the clothing to fit his own frame. Red Fox shook out the stunningly white buckskin clothing and inspected the regalia to ensure every feather in the headdress was neatly in place. He then looked over the beadwork to ensure each bead was still firmly sewn into the leather and was not likely to fall off.

Standing upon a shady patch of ground within an outgrowth of pines growing atop one of the numerous buttes overlooking the Féher ranch, Red Fox inspected the white buckskin leather shirt with blue-and-white-beaded “V” shapes falling down over the shoulder straps. All were intact.

He then put his attention on the cloth breechcloth, the white leggings and moccasins, all beaded in the same design as the shoulder straps. Leather fringe about eight inches in length, as well as long locks of black hair scattered in amongst the buckskin fringe, fell from each sleeve. The same fringe lined each seam of the leggings of the regalia.

A looping white-beaded necklace which would fall from his neck was unbroken, while the headdress of eagle tail feathers stood straight up, then fell all the way to the ground. Two long ermine furs were attached to the bonnet in front; these would fall over the shoulders. The strip of beadwork in front of the headdress was in the same style as the shoulder straps.

Niitá’p, this regalia was the best clothing he possessed, and what an honor it had been when his grandfather had passed these clothes down to him.

As Red Fox donned the clothing, he listened to the strains of what he knew to be the white man’s music. It was quite pretty. The sound was floating up to where he was standing, up high upon a ledge of a cliff overlooking the Fehér ranch.

Picking up his rifle, which he kept in a beautifully beaded parfleche case—a present from his sister—he turned around and climbed to the top of the cliff. The prairie stretched out from behind him, requiring him to step up a little before he could stride out upon the flat plains toward the spot where he had left his pony. Ensuring his pony was not hungry and had plenty of grass to eat here within a growth of pines, he satisfied himself that his pony would be well hidden, this especially so because Hunts-with-the-wind would keep watch over the animal. Breathing in deeply, Red Fox then retraced his steps and set off on foot down toward the party.

****

Watching the dancers from the patio outside the ballroom, Red Fox felt definitely the outsider. He, alone, was outfitted in Pikuni garb. And, the others? They were beautifully dressed, yes, exactly as Eagle Heart’s woman had said they would be. But, all here wore white man’s clothing, since his relatives, all but George and his wife, had left earlier in the day to rejoin the Pikuni encampment. Even the “hang around the fort” Indians were clothed in white-man’s garb.

Where is she?

Although Red Fox had a long acquaintance with the white man’s fashion sense, as well as his dances, he had never seen this kind of smooth gliding where it looked as if the men and women were floating in each other’s arms around and around in a circle upon the dance floor. Silently, he thanked the wife of Eagle Heart for instructing him in the steps of the waltz.

He had witnessed, of course, the jig, the polka and even several Indian dances from other tribes that included both men and women dancing, but never had he borne witness to such graceful movements nor had he observed the intimate way in which the men and women held one another.

Watching the couples’ movements as they whirled around the dance floor, he was captivated for several moments until he realized he still could not find Poka’aki.

Where is she?

Catching a glimpse of George waltzing with his wife, Red Fox felt himself relax. Here was something familiar; people he knew and loved.

Stepping proudly inside this place of music and dancing, he became unusually aware that he at once garnered a great deal of attention. People even gasped. Then he saw these same people turn inward to make groups where they talked amongst themselves and pointed toward him.

Perhaps this was done to cause him to feel uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect over him. It empowered him, knowing how rude and crude were these people who could not even hide their curiosity, if this were what it was.

It wasn’t as if the Indian people weren’t also curious about these newcomers into their country, but they did not stare, nor so openly would they point at a person and then turn to gossip amongst themselves.

Was this aloofness and rumor mongering the sort of thing Poka’aki had been forced to endure in her exile from her home? If so, was there any wonder why she had agreed to a proposition that would enable her to leave there?

Ah, there she is.

So beautiful was she, he caught his breath as he recalled his youthful fear of her because of her beauty. She was wearing a dress in a light shade of pink that accented her figure in front, but was puffed out in back with what must have been yards and yards of material. It was trimmed in a deep color of red, and it seemed to shimmer in a cascade of waves as it fell to the floor. The shoulders of her dress fell down her arms, leaving the top of her breasts, her neck and her upper arms bare. A ribbon in the same color of deep red was tied around her neck, and the length of it fell down the dress in back. And, as she swirled around the floor in the arms of a man, the dark-red ribbon which fell down in back of her, swayed to and fro.

Her hair was caught up on top of her head, while curls of her dark, auburn hair fell over her shoulders. A tiny pink hat covered the top of her tresses.

He couldn’t remember seeing her so beautifully dressed. And, for a moment, an odd feeling come over him: would he ever be able to give her such riches? Worse, having now tasted this kind of life, would she require them?

He shrugged off the thought and studied the man who held her in his arms, and, as Red Fox witnessed the man’s possessive grip on her, Red Fox realized this had to be the man she was being required to marry. The gentleman was not an unhandsome fellow, though he possessed facial hair above his lips, a feature both Indian men and women abhorred.

He stepped farther into the room and took in the measure of this fellow holding Poka’aki. Although Red Fox longed to fade into the scenery in this place, he could not. Realizing his countenance and dress were too different and too exotic for those around him to act politely, he ignored their whispering and pointed glances.

Indeed, he concentrated on studying this man, Maximillian. If he were to envision a way to release his woman from this person‘s grip, Red Fox needed to understand Maximillian as well as he knew himself. The man was slender, tall, although perhaps a little shorter than he, Red Fox. The fellow, however, kept glancing to the east side of the dance floor instead of giving his beautiful partner all of the attention she deserved.

Looking to the eastern side of the dance floor, Red Fox saw the reason for it: a pretty young woman with the pale color of hair that was so rare upon these plains stood there, the object of this man’s attention. Remembering what Poka’aki had said about the man possessing a mistress, Red Fox surmised this woman had to be Maximillian’s undeclared sits-beside-him-woman.

And, though she was stunningly pretty with her blonde curls and blue eyes, there was a catch in her eye and a quality about her countenance that was not pretty. And, worse, she stared at Poka’aki with a look that was hardly likeable. Watching the interplay between this woman and the man who was dancing with Poka’aki, Red Fox knew it was only a matter of a few moments before he, Red Fox, would intercede.

As soon as the music of the dance ended, Red Fox paced forward and into the crowd of dancers, his steps taking him directly to Poka’aki and the gentleman, who, at this very moment, had laid his hand upon the small of Poka’aki’s back.

Inserting himself directly into the path of Maximillian and Poka’aki, Red Fox waited as the people around him cleared away until, at last, the gentleman beheld an Indian warrior, complete with rifle—although it was encased within its beaded case and was strapped around Red Fox’s shoulder—was standing directly in his path.

Red Fox watched the man physically jump, and had it been gentleman-like to scream, the fellow might have done so. As it was, he gasped and stopped walking completely.

“Red Fox! I was wondering when I might see you here! Welcome!” Dragging her escort with her, Poka’aki stepped up before Red Fox and proceeded with the introductions, saying, “Red Fox, this gentleman here is Maximillian the Third. Max, this is Red Fox, my friend, as well as my tutor into the ways of the Plains and how one can easily survive on them.”

Maximillian bent over at the waist and inclined his head, but he said nothing.

Red Fox simply nodded. Then, looking directly at Poka’aki, he said, “I would like to dance with you, Poka’aki.”

“Of course. They are playing another waltz, this one a little slower than the last. Do you know the dance?”

“I do, although I have only learned these steps this very day,” Red Fox answered. He then watched as Maximillian bent slightly forward again, clicked his heels together, and turning, he walked away, although Red Fox saw the man’s knees were shaky and bowed slightly outward as he walked.

Returning his attention to Poka’aki, Red Fox asked, “Will you show me how I should hold you like these other men are doing?”

“Of course I will. Now, you put your right arm around my waist, like so.” She placed his arm in the correct place on the small of her back. “Then you hold my right hand with your left, and listen to the music and the beat. One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three. Do you hear the beat?”

“I do.” He placed his rifle, complete with its carrying case, a little more fully onto his back and out of the way, noticing at the same time that, true to her Pikuni teaching, a gun in a holster was wound around her waist.

“Good,” she said. “Now, starting with your left foot, we step up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three. Now, with your right and left foot, on steps two and three, you twirl around slightly, taking me with you as you twirl. Are you ready?”

“I am,” he answered. And, then he began to dance up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three; back, two, three; as he had earlier learned. Then, he commenced to twirl around. Gazing down at her, he witnessed her beautiful smile.

“You are a quick learner.”

“It is because I dance and sing every day to my ponies, and sometimes I dance while we are in camp. And, I often drum and sing as I dance.

“I know,” she said. “I have seen you do this, although only on occasion, and I have always thought you are most graceful.”

He smiled down at her. “Also, the wife of Eagle Heart showed me these steps today, though I did not hold her as I do you. She waltzed instead with her man, Eagle Heart.” When Poka’aki remained silent, he commented, “This dance is as it looks. It feels as if one is floating.”

She grinned up at him. “It feels, indeed, exactly as you say. How lovely it is to be in your arms. I have never seen this regalia before. Is it new to you?”

“Saa, it is not new. Never have I had the occasion to wear it before this night. It belonged to my grandfather.”

“And, was it passed down to you?”

He nodded.

She commented, “Perhaps our son shall inherit it.”

Red Fox missed a step while at the same time someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. He came to a halt and gazed over his shoulder, there to see Frederic Fehér behind him, Frederic’s lips were set into a frown and his eyes filled with censure.

“I am cutting in to this dance,” Frederic said.

Red Fox glanced at the brother of Poka’aki questioningly.

“It means,” said Frederic in a voice dripping with sarcasm and disapproval, “that I am now going to dance with my sister while you step aside.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Now.” And, with no more instruction nor so much as a kind word, Frederic placed his arms around Poka’aki and danced away with her, although Red Fox observed she was frowning as she spoke to her brother.

Puzzled, Red Fox looked toward Poka’aki, who took her arm from around Frederic to say to Red Fox in sign, “Do not be upset. This is sometimes done.”

What was he supposed to do? Stand here while the dancers twirled around him or bumped into him?

At last, Red Fox began to understand. And, waiting for Frederic and Poka’aki to twirl in close to him, he stepped up to Frederic and tapped him on the shoulder, only to experience the shame of Frederic ignoring him completely as he stepped quickly away and whirled around the dance floor, Frederic presenting a façade as if nothing had even happened.

Knowing Frederic had intended to create the sensation of wrongdoing within him, Red Fox determinedly refused to give the matter any of his energy. Instead, with a steady gait, Red Fox turned around and walked off the dance floor and out of the ballroom completely, leaving the lovely sounding music behind him.

And, lovely it was, indeed. He couldn’t remember hearing anything quite like it in his past.

For a moment, he paused on the wooden flooring outside the actual dance hall, doing little more than listening to the enchanting music. He would remember it. It was so very beautiful.

And, when the music for a jig began, Red Fox set off on foot over the plains, making his way back up to the ledge of the butte, where his wolf would be awaiting him.

****\

Well, that’s all for today.  Remember I’ll be giving away a free e-book from this series to one of you bloggers today, your choice.  So come on in and share your thoughts with me.

 

 

IF SHE WERE MINE — New Historical Coming Soon

by

Howdy!

Happy Tuesday!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Yes, I have a new historical romance coming soon.  This is book #6 in the Medicine Man Series.  It’s still in editing at the moment, but I heard from my editor today and she says she is almost done with the edits.  When this happens, it means about 2-3 weeks for me to do the edits and to get them thoroughly proofed and then getting it published, which can take a few days as well.  And, so I thought I’d put out a call for anyone who would like an ARC (Advance Reading Copy) of the book,  These ARC’s are sent out most usually to readers would like to do reviews.  It’s not necessary to do a review, of course, but this is most usually the reason an ARC is sent.

If you would like to have an Advanced Copy of the new Historical when it is released (or perhaps a little before), please let me know in the comments.

So, that said, I thought I’d give you an except of the new book.  We’ll start with the blurb and then an excerpt from the very beginning of the story (the Prologue).

If She Were Mine

by

Karen Kay

 

A star-crossed love, treachery, and desire that will not be denied.

Briella Feher is in love, but not with her fiancé. Her father has exiled her from the sweeping plains of Montana to New York City “for her own safety,” commanding her to marry within her heritage and class. Raised in Indian Territory, Briella was shaped as much by the Pikuni—Blackfeet—people as by her aristocratic Hungarian family. Viewed as a cowgirl, Briella doesn’t fit in with society. Perhaps it’s the guns she wears strapped to her evening gowns. Her heart has always belonged to Red Fox, the Pikuni medicine man who taught her to survive on the prairie, the man who was her teacher, her first love. When James Maximillian III proposes—with the condition that he keep his mistress—Briella accepts, seeing his proposal as her only path back to Montana and to Red Fox.

Two years apart have not cooled the fire between Briella and Red Fox, yet his honor won’t allow him to claim this woman who is promised to another. With the escalation of the Indian/Cavalry wars, Red Fox believes distance is the only way to protect the woman he loves. Then a vision reveals a devastating truth: Briella’s fiancé is hiding a lie that could shatter every vow. It’s now up to Red Fox to find the truth.

Time is running out, however, and forces are aligned against them. Can Red Fox find the proof and expose the treachery in time to alter the ending of their Romeo and Juliet romance, or will he lose Briella forever in a romance destined for tragedy?

PROLOGUE

Northwest Indian Country

Territory of the Blackfeet

The Month When Geese Come (May) 1871

Máóhkataatoyi, Red Fox watched as Pokaa’aakíí (Poka’aki), Child Woman, or as the white’s called her, Briella Fehér, raised her hand and shouted, “Watch me take down this buffalo calf with one shot!”

“Saa! Wait! Do not shoot! There are—”

BLAST!

It was too late! The damage was done. Hadn’t Poka’aki seen the buffalo herd hidden in the shallow, plain-like valley below?

And now the buffalo, having heard the shot, would assume hunters were close-by; it would cause them to stampede. But, perhaps their direction might be to run along the valley rather than to climb the hill and…

As Red Fox heard the unmistakable thunder of hundreds or perhaps thousands of the buffalo’s hooves coming closer and closer to him, he knew the stark reality of what this was: a stampede on its way—toward him and Poka’aki.

There is, perhaps, nothing more terrifying to the heart of a man than the sound of snapping wood, the whooshing of shrubs and bushes, as well as the quaking and ratting of the ground beneath one as the tremendous force and speed of a stampeding herd of buffalo was on the run.

Even now the air carried the dirt and rocks kicked high into the air by those buffalos’ hooves. With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew the herd would be here before Poka’aki had time to get out of the way, and, if she didn’t move fast enough, they would trample her to death.

“Get out of here!” he shouted and waved at her. “Quick! Leave here! Go! Fast!”

But he knew his words were useless. All sound was blocked except the thunder of the stampede.

In a time quicker than it takes to think it, Red Fox knew that George, who was Poka’aki’s brother as well as his own almost-brother, was too far away to come to Briella’s rescue. George had left their hunting party early in the morning, his intention being to return to the tribe and report this enormous herd of buffalo to the chiefs, letting them decide if they would call a tribal hunt of the buffalo or secure a buffalo caller to send the herd, one and all, over the cliff of the pisskan, the buffalo jump.

Inwardly, he cringed. Because of his and Poki’aki’s actions here today, the stampede would interfere with the tribe’s ability to obtain enough food for winter storage, if only because a stampeding herd of buffalo could run through the day and into the night, taking the vast supply of food completely out of Blackfoot territory.

This was why, when a large mass of buffalo had been spotted, the chiefs banned all hunting until the tribe’s men could, as a single body, hunt the game.

On this very day, the chiefs had sent both himself and George—two scouts—out from the camp to look for buffalo. No one in the tribe yet knew this large herd was even here. And yet, it would soon be gone.

The thunderous, ground shaking roar of the stampede caused all further thought to cease. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Red Fox caught sight of the black, horned creatures coming into sight and directly at him. Just then, his horse reared as a wave of the black, hairy beasts encompassed him and his mount, and pushed him and his pony in alongside of them.

With a quick action, Red Fox brought his pony under control. There was no running from them now, and, within the batting of an eye, Red Fox and his mount were caught up in the stampede…but he was on the other side of the herd from Poka’aki.

Because the sharp-horned cows enveloped him and crowded in on every side him, his pony was forced to keep time with the stampede; Red Fox spared a glance behind him to see blackened masses of the animals to the rear of him, seeming as though they were without end. There was to be no retreat from them.

Once more, he looked toward Poka’aki, seeing she was caught up within the herd, as was he. He had to save her—but how?

He was on the complete opposite side of the solid mass of charging buffalo. He knew well that even the best of horses could not last for long within a fleeing herd of these animals; the buffalo’s lungs were large and strong and the muscles in their legs were sturdy, allowing them to run both day and night without ever stopping.

But, not so a horse. Even the best buffalo horse could not long keep up with a running buffalo herd; instead, a good pony was trained to take his master toward a buffalo, allowing the man to grab quick shot and then to retreat, carrying himself and his rider to the side of the terrorized animals.

Glancing at Poka’aki on his left and across a field of the terror-stricken and plunging buffalo, he took stock of her horse…a three-year-old mare not trained to a buffalo run. Her horse wouldn’t last longer than a breath. Worse, Red Fox could see she had lost control of the reins, causing her to cling to the pony’s mane, the reins being dragged behind, which could be stepped on by a buffalo…

All Indian hunters know that the only way to remain alive in a buffalo stampede is to gradually guide one’s horse to the edge of the stampede and then leave the massive push of the herd. But without reins? How was she to guide her horse?

With a sinking heart, Red Fox knew Poka’aki ‘s chances of surviving the stampede were all but impossible.

But, she must survive! She must! She, the girl he had loved for so many years!

He had to get to her! Her horse would soon become tired and would be overrun by the sharp hooves of the buffalo pushing in on her from behind, trampling them both into the ground.

His one chance to save her was to guide his horse toward hers and then lead them both to the side. And, this he would do; this he must do.

In a moment out of time, he devised a plan. He knew that the buffalo do not see well; they follow the leading cow in front of them, creating little paths within the stampede.

Poka’aki was slightly ahead of him, and he counted three rows of the buffalo between himself and Poka’aki. All he had to do was to kill the buffalo on his left and take its place in the path behind the cow ahead. Over and over he would do this until her pony was on his left. Reaching down to pull his rifle from its case, he found the container empty.

Empty? Without a gun to clear each pathway to his left, how was he to get to her? Quickly, he reached behind him, his hand lingering for a moment over his bow and arrows. With the gun having taken the place of the bow and arrow for most Pikuni men, the quiver with bow and arrows was seldom worn anymore. However, today he had placed both upon his back, thinking to kill an animal quietly with the bow and arrow rather than announce where he was by the boom of a gun.

Pulling the bow from its quiver, as well as many arrows, he placed all but one arrow into his mouth, and, holding them with his teeth, he fitted the first arrow to his bow. He took aim.

Whish! The arrow went down well below the ribs, straight to the heart of the buffalo. The animal made only one more jump before it went down. With his knees, Rex Fox guided his pony into the downed buffalo’s place. He did the same with the next buffalo, taking its place.

Only one more row of the bulls and cows and he would be next to her. But, her horse was now plunging about madly, making it difficult for Poka’aki to stay her seat.

But, what was this? What was wrong with her saddle?

How could it have come loose? And yet, with another plunge, her saddle flew back onto the rear of her pony. Worse, she had lost her grip on the animal’s mane and was desperately holding onto the horses neck. All it would take was one more jump, and Poka’aki would fall from her horse and be trampled.

His heart stopped for a moment. But, he was only one pathway and a jump away from her horse. Quickly taking aim with another arrow, he shot at the buffalo closest to him right behind the ribs to the heart of the beast, and, as the buffalo went down, Red Fox and his pony took its place. Then, by whacking his bow on his horse’s flanks, he came to be even with Poka’aki. She was falling off her horse!

Reaching out to his left, he caught her by the waist and pulled her up onto his own mount, laying her crosswise in front of him.

Because the sharp horns of the buffalo were closing in around him again, he didn’t have a moment to set her up straight. Indeed, he knew his horse, with its double load could not long keep pace with the frightened buffalo, especially since Red Fox sensed his pony was winded. However, using his bow, he kept the animal in step with the buffalo, despite his pony fighting for breath. Then, taking up his bow again, he positioned another arrow to his bow, took aim and felled the buffalo to his left.

He did the same with his remaining arrow, and then all his arrows were gone. All he could do now was to force his horse into the remaining two rows of buffalo to his left, one at a time. Saying a prayer beneath his breath, he forced his pony into the next pathway of buffalo.

Only one more row of the stampeding herd remained, but his pony was clever and worked his way to the side again and into the pathway to the left. And then Red Fox steered his pony to the left again.

Free! At last, we are free!

Red Fox turned his mount again to the left, putting some distance between Poka’aki, himself and his pony from the stampeding buffalo. He reined his horse to a stop beneath a quivering pine. Jumping to the ground, Red Fox pulled Poka’aki off the pony, and when she would have collapsed in his arms, he held onto her tightly, pulling her closely against him.

He could feel her sobs at his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her, saying in a low voice, “It is over. We are alive. We survive.”

She was crying and in between gasps, she whispered, “I would be dead now if not for you.”

He didn’t know what to answer in response, and so he said only, “Come, you can sit beneath this tree and recover your breath while I go to find your bother. We must report what we have found to our chiefs.”

“No! Do not let me go! I beg you, do not let me go!”

With her face against his shoulder and she standing so closely in his arms, all of his energy suddenly focused on her instead of their narrow escape from death. Indeed, all of his bent-up emotions and the joy of his success was centered upon her and only upon her. And for a moment, he thought he had not only escaped death this day, but he might have found the white man’s heaven, as well.

How long was it now that he had loved Poka’aki? All those years ago, when her brother, George, had asked him to tutor her in the ways of the plains, who could have predicted he would fall in love with the girl? Certainly, he hadn’t foreseen it.

But, he had, indeed, surrendered his heart to her. However, she was younger than he by seven winters. And so, he had waited for her to grow up before turning his mind toward the idea of approaching her father with many horses and asking for her hand in marriage.

And so, in all these years, he had held himself back from declaring himself to her. He knew she liked him well enough, but so beautiful was she, he was a little afraid of her: fearful, he was, of her possible rejection of him. Or worse, she might agree to marry him simply because they were friends.

Even now, breathing in the sweet, yet fragrant scent of her, he remained silent, doing little more than savoring the moment.

Leaning her head back a little, she looked up into his eyes and, in a whisper, declared, “I am to blame for this. I almost killed you and me, too. And I…and I… I love you, Red Fox. I do not wish to leave this world without you knowing how I feel about you. Indeed, I think I have loved you since the day you first came here to tutor me, although I didn’t know it then. Since I have known you, I have been of the opinion of you being the handsomest of men; you, with your black hair, always so neatly braided and your dark, mysterious eyes. Always, you have appeared before me dressed in your best buckskin clothing and, when there have been times you have had to take off your shirt, I…I…have wondered what it might feel like if you were to hold me, to press your lips against mine.

“But, you are older than I and much taller, too, and I have had to wait to grow up a little. But, I have always looked upon you with the idea in mind that one day you will come to love me. And, if I were to have been the cause of your death here today, I do not believe I would ever be able to forgive myself, not even in the hereafter.”

She loves me? All this time she has loved me? She has even desired my embrace?

This couldn’t be real. He swallowed hard, gulping.

“Do you not feel it, too?” Poka’aki asked, her voice breathless. “I have seen the looks you have given me sometimes in the evenings when we sit around the fire. Please tell me. I am not making this up, am I? It is not all one-sided, is it? Do you love me, too?”

Red Fox shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then, slowly he bent his head to hers and touched his lips to hers. At their touch, every sense within him awoke to the splendor of her and his heart began beating as fast as it had been only moments ago when they had been swallowed up within the buffalo stampede.

Raising his head only slightly and inhaling deeply, he looked up into the heavens before bringing his lips down to hers yet again, and he kissed her once more, but deeply this time. His tongue opened her mouth to his persuasion, and thereupon, he proceeded to love her with his kisses, one after another, as though he were a hungry man and she were the only sweet thing that could satisfy him.

She kissed him back and as she did so, the world around him seemed to come alive. Indeed, the sun, shining down upon his shoulders, felt warmer. The wind seemed to join in with the sun in a kindlier fashion as it whirled around them, sharing its cooler temperature with them. Truly, it felt to him as though the life force of the earth and all of His creatures were as happy as he.

Bringing his head down toward hers, he touched his lips to hers yet again.

Áa! Magic! It was as though they had been waiting longer than mere years for this one, precious moment to declare themselves to one another.

How splendid it would be to make her his wife this day.  If he were to do so, it would put to rest the very real possibility of her father denying her to him.

After all, it was her brother, George, who had included him as a tutor for her all those years ago…not her parents. In truth, it was with a critical eye her parents, József and Mária Fehér, had watched him teach her to shoot, to ride, to track and hunt game as well as any man. Added to this, for the past month, Poka’aki’s elder brother, Frederic,—who lived in a faraway, eastern part of the Americas—was now temporarily in residence here in Pikuni country. And, though Frederic had brought with him his wife and their child for the visit, Frederic held himself and his immediate family aloof from all things Pikuni.

Niitá’p, indeed, since Frederic’s arrival, Red Fox had noted a change within her father’s behavior toward all things Pikuni, too.

Needing to breathe, Red Fox broke off the kiss, listening to his…and her strained breath. Then, a little huskily, and with a silent air of doubt in her voice, she asked, “You do love me, don’t you?”

So enamored was he with her, his voice was shaking when he answered, “Of course I do. For many years I have loved you. And, if I loved you a little less than I do, I would make you my wife now under the eye of the Creator, thus letting the world around us be joyful along with us or condemn us.”

“Oh, yes. Please.  I am ready to become your woman, your wife,” she whispered.

Once again, he shut his eyes as the throes of passion came over him. He was more than ready to cause them to marry. Did he dare?

Saa, no, he silently answered his own question; a good man would approach her father and ask for her hand in marriage. Besides, he did not wish to disrupt her family and his. After all, her other brother, George, was married to Red Fox’s sister.

Inwardly sighing, he realized it was true.

He swallowed, hard, bringing control over his impulses. No, this had to be done in the right way; it was his place to approach her father, bringing with him as many horses as he could gather together from his herd, since this was the traditional Pikuni way of asking for a woman to be his.

Moving his forehead down to hers, he said, “We will go to your father’s house tonight with many horses and I will ask your father to give you to me as my woman for all my life.”

She swooned in toward him, and said, “I will help you herd your horses my darling, handsome tutor. I am certain my father will say yes. After all, he speaks very highly of you and how you have patiently taught me how to survive on these plains.”

Red Fox, however, had his doubts about this. All he said, though, was, “Come with me as I go to the chiefs and report what has happened here. Then, together we will take all I can quickly find of my pony herd, excepting this animal who carried me to you this day. We will then ride to your father’s home and I will ask him to accept the horses I give him as he, likewise, gives you to me.”

“Yes,” she said, placing her arms around his neck and bringing his head down to hers once more. “Imagine. Soon I will be your wife.”

Laughing, she brought her lips up to his in a sweet, yet stirring kiss.

Ending the caress, Red Fox said, “Come, let us find your brother quickly and tell him our happy news. Then, we can all go to the chiefs and report what we have found concerning the buffalo herd. And, after we have made our report to our chiefs, we will seek out your father.”

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes. Let us hurry!”

IF SHE WERE MINE, coming soon!

 

 

Welcome to a New Year!

by

Howdy!  Welcome to a New Year!  Hope your holidays were full of fun, family and lots of treats!

Have you made any New Year’s Resolutions?  I won’t necessarily ask you what they are because I realize how personal these resolutions can be.  But, perhaps we could share what we hope to accomplish this next year, since these aren’t quite so personal.  So I’ll begin:

The first thing I’d like to accomplish is to finish the next Historical Romance I’ve been writing.  I’m almost done with it and hope to have it done in the next week or so and get it into editing.  It’s new title is IF SHE WERE MINE.

And then, the good Lord willing, I have three other books I’m hoping to write this year:  one is a book in a series with other authors; another is a new Young Adult, and lastly another Historical Romance in this same series featuring the medicine men, and, the good Lord willing, I’d also like to publish another 25th year Anniversary Book.  It would be a lot of writing I’ll have to do, a lot of editing and a lot of “keeping my nose to the grind-stone” so to speak.  But again, the Good Lord willing, it might be something I could do.

So what about you?  What are you hoping to accomplish in this next year?  I’d love to hear your plans and your hopes for the New Year.

I’m hoping also that you might like a sneak peek at the new cover for this new book, IF SHE WERE MINE.  And, if you will bear with me, I thought I’d do a little side-show of the other books in this series:

She Steals My Breath, Book #1 in the series.

The first time Eagle Heart sees the white woman, Laylah, her beauty steals his breath.

When a blizzard forces them together, a forbidden love blossoms between them.

 

She Captures My Heart,  Book #2 in the series. 

United only in love, Is their love strong enough to beat back a world threatening to force them apart? Or will love triumph, after all?

 

She Paints My Soul, Book # 3 in the series

Caught together in a blizzard, can these two heal one another’s hearts?

 

 

She Brings Beauty To Me, Book #4 in the series

Are their star-guided paths meant only to briefly cross?

 

 

She Belongs In My World

Is this their second chance at love? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here is the new cover for a book I hope will be coming your way in February or March of this year.

And a brief description of the plot:

Briella Feher and Red Fox are in love, and have been in love for most of their lives.  But both sides of their families forbid the marriage.  

Will their love conquer their forced separation and their parents’ prejudice? Or is their love doomed from the very start?

 

I’d love to hear about what you hope to accomplish in the coming new year.  So come on in and let’s chat!

 

 

 

Old Bull’s Heavenly Visitor & Give-away

by

Howdy!

Welcome to another tantalizing Tuesday!  Hope y’all are doing well today.  And I have a special story for you today.  A true story — one I ran across in doing research for the story I’m currently working on.  This is from the book, BEAR CHIEF’S WAR SHIRT by James Willard Schultz, who is writing about his own true experience.

In June of 1877, Schultz’s mother had given him permission to go out west into what was then called Indian Territory on a buffalo hunt — he was to return that same year where he would attend a military academy, but he didn’t return until 1880 and even then, he was there for only 3 months before returning to Indian Country.  Indeed, James Schultz stayed with the Blackfeet and married into the tribe and became a white Blackfeet Indian.  There is a book he has written entitled MY LIFE AS AN INDIAN, and oh my, what a wonderful book it is — filled with thrilling stories.

This story is about one of Schultz’s adventures as a warrior going with a war party to retrieve Bear Chief’s War Shirt.  On the way to determining what tribe might have stolen the shirt and a way to retrieve it, he had many adventures.  The story I’m about to tell you he declares in his book is true. and is one he saw with his own eyes.

First let me tell you a little about a Blackfeet war party.  There was a man who led the party and it was his responsibility to sleep and live (to some degree) apart from the others so he could pray for a vision that would tell him what lay ahead of the war party.  Old Bull was part of this war party –he was a “Bringer of Plenty” — a man who called the buffalo to a cliff and over it so the tribe would have enough food to get through the cold winters of Montana.  He had what the Indians called much medicine.

Schultz describes Old Bull as a man about forty winters (years) in age.  Here is what Schultz writes about Old Bull:

“…I liked Old Bull best [of the war party}; in fact, I revered him.  He was a man of about forty winters — tall and well muscled, with long hair, keen eyes, and a pleasant face; calm, dignified, and honest; moreover, he was a sacred pipe man, a medicine man, as the whites say.  Old Bull was possessor of the powerful Eagle Head pipe, master of its long ritual of sacred prayers and songs.”

Old Bull was a man whom the war party needed to have a vision so as to alert the war party as to what they might face and it if would be successful.  But, so far, he had not been able to have a vision.

Old Bull stated that oftentimes he had to go someplace alone so that his spiritual helper would come.  He had told Schultz that often his spiritual helper would come to others as Old Bull prayed to their God, the Creator.  His spiritual helper would then tell the others gathered there the answers to what Old Bull was asking.  And so, not having a vision to help the war party, Old Bull went into a hollow tree and there began to pray.

And, I will quote from the book:

Bear chief was praying — “He had no more than spoken these words when his body stiffened, his face becoming tense and his eye balls rolling upwards in his head.  He leaned back against the inside of the tree.  Bear Chief and I were standing close to the tree when this happened….  Before us a white shadow was forming starting up from the ground and spinning up like a whirlwind, building higher and higher until it reached the height of Bear Chief.  Then the fluorescent white cloud began taking a man’s shape, the ears, nose, mouth, eyes, and the rest of the face forming first, then the body, arms, and legs. The figure took on such details as moccasins, a full head dress to the ground, necklaces, and some face coloring.  As I stood there, it seemed as though I could look through the Heavenly Visitor as one would look through a light colored window pane.

“The Visitor spoke in Blackfeet.  ‘Bear Chief, I am your helper.  I have been helping you all your life.  I have helped you in battles, I guide you and give you good thought.  My name is Gray Eagle.

“‘There is trouble for you ahead.  How much trouble will depend on how careful you are in your movements.  Do not travel this night.  You all will go to the Sand Hills someday, but those who are needed here now will stay for a while; those who are needed over there to help do the work of the Above Ones will go earlier.  Bear Chief, you will be rewarded.’  and with that the almost transparent visitor vanished into the sky in a streak of light.

“As Old Bull awakened from his trance, I asked him if he remembered anything that had gone on.  Said he, ‘I remember only that I slept.  What happened?’ I told him about the ghostly visitor and of his message.

“Old Bull continued, “Ever since I was a young man, there have been times over which I have had little control, when I have been seized by the Above Ones and when, as afterward related to me by my friends, Spirit people have built up and have been seen and heard by all present.  I would much rather have a vision, where I get the message direct, but when day after day has passed and I have received no message, often if I pray in an enclosure, as I did here, I am seized, and Spirit people come forth.”

The war party went on to be successful in regaining the war shirt.  Interestingly, Schultz writes, “After passing through several hands [the war shirt], the shirt came to the collection of Indian Americana at the Denver Art Museum.  No myth, this famed Indian relic is now on display for visitors to marvel at for its color, design, and decoration.”

Well, I hope you enjoyed this story.

Now onto other news:  My latest release, SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD, is on sale starting today for $.99.  Don’t miss this chance.  Pick up your copy today.

Also, I will be giving away a mass market paperback of the book, Soaring Eagle’s Embrace, to one lucky blogger.  So come on in and leave your thoughts on this blog.  I love hearing from you.

SHE BELONGS IN MY WORLD:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FBPKBXBZ?tag=pettpist-20

 

American Indian Jewelry & Other Fashions Plus Giveaway

by

Howdy!

Hope you are having a terrific summer!  Did any of you go on vacation this last August?  If so, where did you go?  And most of all, did you have fun?

Well, to start off September, I thought I’d tell you a bit about the American Indian style of jewelry, Plains style specifically.  All tribes were different, and this included hair styles, jewelry, moccasins, clothing and many other things that, if one knew how, could identify the tribe.

But let’s go a little deeper into Jewelry, what was used and how it was worn.  To the left here is a young man who can be identified by his style of hair, as well as his clothing and jewelry.  He is Blackfeet, I believe, and probably the picture was taken in the 1850’s or 1860’s.  His hair with his bangs cut and pulled straight up could be either Blackfeet or Crow.  But the style of his rifle case and the capote (his “blanket coat”) he is wearing looks very Blackfeet.  He wouldn’t be part of a southern tribe because there would be no need for the capote in the south.

It looks to me as if he is wearing ermine fur as earrings — the fur of the ermine was white in the winter and the fur could be used for jewelry or could ornament anything, including headdresses.  He is also wearing the bow clips with large beads attached and they are hung from each side of his face.  His necklace is beaded with the beads (most likely the color blue) used as a choker and a looping necklace of white and various colored beads.  It also looks to me as if the necklace has another loop to it, barely seen because of the capote he is wearing.

His moccasins look to be made from a substantial material, probably buckskin, which might identify him again, as Blackfeet.  His friend is dressed in the classic kind of outfit worn by traders during this time period.

The gentleman to the right is definitely Blackfeet, and is Chief Old Person, circa the late 1890’s or early 1900’s.  He is an ancestor of Chief Earl Old Person, who was chief of the tribe for very many years…and also who was very beloved by his tribe.  In this picture, his headdress identifies him at once as Blackfeet because the top part of the headdress stands almost straight up, which was the style of the Blackfeet headdress.  He wears many ermine furs, which hang down from his headdress.  He is also wearing what looks like a brass armband and has a tomahawk in his hand.  Note, also his white clothing, which is usually made from a buffalo hide and tanned until it is soft and white.

Glass beads were a trade item and were used to make earrings, necklaces and decorations on clothing, including dresses, leggings, moccasins, robes, bags, cradle boards and adorned many other things.  Bead work could be identified by tribe and by color schemes.  Before there were glass beads (imported from Europe), porcupine quills were used (soaked in the mouth until they were soft) and then used to ornament much of their clothing.and other items.  Men and women might wear shells as necklaces and earrings.  Men might wear horns, antlers, claws…a grizzly’s claws worn around the neck denoted a man of distinction.  Chokers could be made from otter skin and beads and another items highly valued.

 

Here to the left are a couple of Blackfeet girls.  Interestingly, these girls are not wearing as much jewelry as the men.  Could it be that the Blackfeet men wore more jewelry in attempt to attract a woman?  In the world of eagles, hawks and many other birds, the male of the species is often more colorful than the female, partly as a way of protecting the female as Nature has planned, but also, most likely to attract a lovely female’s attention.

Did you know that female prairie chickens sat in a circle around males in the middle who were dancing and strutting, showing off their stuff?

But, in this picture to the right, what we see is the traditional American Indian style braids, with a part in the middle.  The shells that are ornamenting the dress on the girl on our right appears to be elk teeth.  Notice they are both wearing a belt and at this time period (perhaps the late 1890’s), they are both wearing trade-cloth dresses and what looks to be wide leather belts.  In the background is a beautifully painted tepee.  Men painted these tepees, by the way.

Well, I hope you have enjoyed this quick look into traditional style of jewelry and clothes and the beautiful bead work and ornamentation.

And now for the give-away: I will be giving away a pair of American Indian hoop earrings to one of the bloggers today.  They are beautifully beaded with orange, yellow, green, blue, red and white seed beads.  There are three hoops that make up the earrings and the size of each earring is about 2 inches wide and long.  They are for pierced ears only.

Please see our Guidelines for giveaways.  All you have to do to enter into the drawing is leave a post here on the blog.

Am hoping you enjoyed this quick look at the beauty of the American Indian jewelry and clothing.

On sale right now are two of my stories:

She Steals My Breath

Currently on sale for $.99.

And


The Adventures Of Good Eagle and Miss Starling

by Genny Cothern — my pen name for this new Young Adult Series.

Currently on sale for $.99

 

 

 

Have a super day and Do Well!

 

 

 

New Interview From Coffee Time Romance & e-book giveaway

by

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.