Montana

Cowboys, Rodeo, & a Stray Dog

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I have to confess that I panicked last year when my publisher Jane Porter asked me to move from River’s Edge, my little town on the Ohio River to Marietta, Montana. I mean, holy schnikeys! Except for flyovers and the very urban Bay Area of San Francisco to visit our kids, I’d never been west of Mississippi, and now I was supposed to write in the mountains of Montana? About cowboys? And rodeos and ranches? Yikes!

To be honest, the only things I had going for me as I headed into this new writing territory was a love of and experience with horses, the fact that I’d read a lot of Tule Publishing’s Montana Born books, and a deep respect for Jane and the team’s marketing expertise. They’d never steered me wrong yet, so I took a deep breath and dove in. I even took a trip to Big Sky, Montana, in July with my pal, mystery writer Carol Light, just to get a feel for the setting. Wow, was that ever grand!

I was grateful that I was starting my Montana Born journey with three other romance authors, all of whom already wrote cowboys and Montana and ranches and rodeo. Our 4-book, 4-author series, Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys released one book a week throughout September of 2025. And we needed a theme that would run through the entire series—something that tied all the books together. Someone said, how about a stray dog? That was fine with me, so our little thieving pup first appears in Jeannie Watt’s Unforgettable Cowboy, turns up again in Nicole Flockton’s Headstrong Cowboy, and in Sinclair Jayne’s Rogue Cowboy. Each time, the little trickster is stealing something … and then disappearing. He is a sheltie/border collie mix and cute as can be! Check him out here.

Then my turn came. Because I am the last book in the series, I got to decide what would happen to the little dog we’d named Rascal—because he truly was! Husband and Son both said words to the effect of you can’t kill off the dog. Like I would ever do such a thing! I’ll grant you I’m more a cat person than a dog lover, but surely Rascal needed a happily-ever-after just like all our cowboys and their ladies. Sorry, I’m not going to tell you where that poor critter ended up. You’ll have to read the whole series, ending with my Forever Cowboy to find out. Just trust me … fairy tale ending are my specialty.

Hope y’all enjoy all four books in the Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys series—we sure had fun writing them! And here’s the best part: I have three more Montana Born stories coming up here in 2026! I got into the cowboy thing so much that I created my own Montana world—Juniper Falls Ranch, so although  Forever Cowboy may be book 4 in the Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys series; it’s Book 1 in the Juniper Falls Ranch series. Book 2, The Cowboy’s Comeback, released January 30, 2026. Book 3, Help Wanted, Cowboy releases July 7, 2026, and book 4, The Rancher’s Christmas Wife, which I’m currently writing, releases in November! And you know what else? I’m havin’ the time of my life in Montana! Come join me!

To whet your appetite for my Juniper Fall Ranch cowboys, how about we do a little giveaway? Just tell me below if you like to see pets–dogs, cats, parrots, hamsters, rabbits, really any kind of pet–in your cowboy stories? I’ll give away two e-book copies of Forever Cowboy to two lucky commenters!

Thanks for spending time with me today! See you next time!

Fun Historical Facts and Giveaway

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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

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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

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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!

 

 

Discovering a New Part of Me in My Own Story

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I’m celebrating this weeks, my P&P friends. The Cowboy’s Comeback, Book 2 in my Juniper Falls Ranch series released this past Thursday and wow, I’m just over the moon about how much readers are loving Cassie and Bo’s story.

This one was a little bit of a departure for me—I’ve never used the enemies-to-lovers trope before. Mostly, I think because I really hate confrontation. I mean seriously hate it. I’ll go out of my way to avoid a confrontation in my real life, so writing a story based on one was a little uncomfortable.

My heroine, Cassie Franklin, has no qualms about saying exactly how she feels. A journalist and World Champion barrel racer, she’s had to make her own way for most of her career. She faces life head on. When horse trainer Bo Kennedy’s accusations destroy their relationship and they go their separate ways, the embers of her anger continue to burn for five long years. All it takes is seeing him again to stoke those embers back into flames, and she’s furious with him all over again.

The muscle in Bo’s jaw worked as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Cassie, it’s been five years. I’ve forgiven you. Can’t we put it all in the past and start new?”

“You forgive me?” It was the last straw after he’d practically wrenched the painful story of losing Pierre from her. “You … you …” she spluttered, too angry for words. She shoved the comb in her back pocket, clipped Storm’s lead under the mare’s chin, and unhooked the crossties. “Stick your forgiveness where the sun don’t shine, George!” She yanked on the lead and started to stalk out but stopped in a few feet, took a deep breath, and patted Storm’s neck. “Let’s walk, baby,” she said quietly. “Good girl. Let’s walk.”

As they try to work together to get her new horse ready for competition, Cassie is alternately cold as ice and yet so ticked off, she steams, so she gets really snippy to Bo. And that’s the part that I had to pull from a place inside me I didn’t know existed. Well, I knew it was down there somewhere because I can be really snippy in my head if provoked, but I can’t think of a time when I’ve brought that attitude to my real life. I’m always the peacemaker, even in an argument I win. I don’t hold a grudge and I’d almost rather cut my tongue out than say something that might make someone be mad at me. Cassie has not such compunction with Bo.

All this to say, Cassie comes at life (and Bo) with metaphorical guns a’blazin’. After a lot of years of being pretty passive, who knew I could write confrontation so convincingly? Go figure. We writers often discover new things about ourselves as we create characters, and sometimes, readers discover something new about themselves, too, when they read our stories. I like that, don’t you?

The Cowboy’s Comeback

It’s an enemies to lovers showdown between the cowboy who can’t trust and the cowgirl who won’t forgive.

Injured rodeo cowboy, Bo Kennedy, takes a job as a horse trainer at a Montana ranch. His skills training cutting horses are in high demand, but he’s holding out hope his days of competing aren’t over. Then his first client arrives, desperate for help with her mare. One problem, she’s his ex.

When World Champion barrel racer Cassie Franklin needs a new horse quickly, her last hope to rebuild her career is to switch to cutting competitions. She brings her new mare to Juniper Falls Ranch, hoping the highly hyped horse whisperer can help. She’s stunned to see Bo. They haven’t spoken in five years after he wrongly accused her of sabotaging his horse when he saw her flirting with his fiercest competitor.

Working together seems impossible, especially as the chemistry still sizzles. Will one of them finally lower their guard and admit they were wrong?

I’ve got a couple of e-books of The Cowboy’s Comeback to give away to two lucky commenters. Just tell me below if you’ve ever discovered something new about yourself that surprised you. 

It’s Yee-Haw Day!

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The fillies are riding in with news fit for sharing!

Nan Reinhardt

What an awesome release week for The Cowboy’s Comeback! Reviews are coming in, and Bo & Cassie are a hit! I’m so thrilled with mentions like this 5-star review on Goodreads:

January 22, 2026
THE COWBOYS COMEBACK by Nan Reinhardt
Release date January 29, 2026Definitely one of my favorite tropes second chances.I loved the story with Bo and Cassie. That a horrible break up five years earlier. Now they find themselves stuck on the same ranch. one is a trainer and one is a student. This is a wonderful opportunity for both of them. Can they make it work?For me all of Nan’s books are unputdownable! And this was definitely no exception. I loved being on Juniper Falls ranch.
Please keep them coming, Nan ?
Can’t beat that! The Cowboy’s Comeback is available now in both e-book and print at all book retailers!

Sarah Lamb

I’m excited it’s release day for a new book!

Her whole life, Ellen Grayson has lived by one rule: stay away from the Claytons. They’re dangerous, evil, and sworn enemies of her family. But when she finds herself on Clayton land, the one who protects her doesn’t match the monster from her parents’ stories. Drawn to him, Ellen is determined to uncover the bitter feud that has kept them apart.

Derek Clayton has loved Ellen from afar since childhood, stealing glimpses of her whenever their paths cross in town. As the third generation caught in a family war, he knows the only way to keep her safe is to stay away, no matter how much he wishes otherwise. It’s gotten more difficult to hide his feelings, and he can no longer deny the powerful pull between them.

But are they doomed to love only in secret for a chance that may never come? Ellen and Derek must decide if their forbidden love is strong enough to finally end the feud that has haunted their families for generations. Or if they’ll be forever waiting in the shadows.

Start reading Waiting in the Shadows now, and get swept away into a romantic, forbidden romance.

Linda Broday

COVER REVEAL!

Jess’s Reckoning – The McIntyres Book 3 – The exciting Conclusion

Jess McIntyre and Abigail Farnsworth find love & adventure, plus his remaining sibling!

Releases May or June

Karen Witemeyer

A fantastic giveaway opportunity, just in time for Valentine’s Day! Tons of western romance on the table in this one. Prizes include: Amazon gift cards, autographed books, and ebooks. Including my upcoming February release, Taming Lady Temperance!

Visit this link to join the fun: https://www.jilldewhurst.com/promo

 

Karen Kay — Night Thunder’s Bride (Book #3 in the The Blackfoot Warrior Series) is on sale!

 

Night Thunder has vowed to protect Rebecca. When she is stolen by an enemy, he goes after her. But he can’t simply ride into the enemy camp and kill the guilty. The thieves are malcontents from his own tribe. There is only one way to save her.

He must claim her as his bride.  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072RXCB6H?tag=pettpist-20

 

Justice on the Frontier

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Seems like each state has a storied law enforcement agency. Here we have the Texas Rangers and in Arizona it’s the Arizona Rangers. In early Montana Territory it was a group called the Vigilantes. I recently ran across an interesting story about the Montana Vigilantes that was formed December 23, 1863.

But before you judge, here’s a glimpse of what decent people faced in 1863. Because there was no one to enforce the law, outlaws, robbers and murderers flocked to Montana Territory in droves. What courts that existed had very limited power, especially in remote mining camps. Mostly justice (if any could be had) came about through what was called miners’ courts and was weak and ineffective, unable to enforce the rulings. Basically, there was little law to be had in these rich gold fields. Gold being the accepted form of currency at the time. But transporting it was a huge risk and over time a million dollars in gold was stolen. Gangs, the most brutal of which was the Plummer Gang, was run by the Bannock, Montana sheriff, Henry Plummer. They preyed on all who traveled the roads and over a hundred travelers were murdered in the fall of 1863 alone. Something had to be done.

A group of men from Montana’s major cities held a clandestine meeting in John Lott’s store in Virginia City and formed this secret organization. In two years’ time, their members numbered over two thousand men. The Vigilantes’ main goal was to make the territory safe for families and rid it of crime. To that end, they dispensed harsh justice to undesirables. The organization spread across Montana and into parts of Idaho.

In the first two months of 1864, they hung 24 men. That was the beginning. It seemed quite a deterrent to criminals. There was no safe haven other than the Black Hills of South Dakota where most went.

THE WARNING

Seems the Vigilantes would paint the numbers 3-7-77 on homes, fences, tents and other things as a threat. If the person didn’t leave, they dealt with them violently and swiftly. No one ever got a second threat.

The meaning of the numbers is a mystery. Some say they represented the exact time period that the Vigilantes gave their targets to get out of town – 3 hours, 7 minutes, and 77 seconds. Another interpretation is that the numbers were a grave’s dimensions: 3 feet, by 7 feet, by 77 inches.

Still another school of thought is that it was a code used by the Freemasons.

Whatever the numbers represented, they struck terror in a man’s heart, and he quickly heeded the warning or risked death. These numbers became a potent symbol of law and order. The Montana Highway Patrol still uses the numbers today. The patch on each lawman’s shoulder sports 3-7-77. The department also paints it on the side panel of each patrol car.

To the lawmen of today it represents “Serve and Protect.”

While there’s no justification at all for vigilantes now in the 21st century, neither could a man stand by and let lawless gangs take over without doing something. There has to be law and order so people can thrive. These men simply wanted a safe place for their wives and children and keep rustlers from stealing their cattle.

Montana became the 41st state to be admitted to the union on November 8, 1889. The Montana Vigilantes disbanded around 1870 when the Stockman’s Association was formed.

Do you like a good mystery? While the true meaning of the numbers 3-7-77 has gotten lost, what is your best guess? Is it referencing a grave dimensions, referring to the time they allowed to leave the territory, or something else? I’m going to give two commenters an ebook copy of Love Comes to Christmas so join the chat.

AMAZON

Someone wants Gillian Everly to believe her beloved Christmas shop, the dream she built from nothing, is haunted. Strange events unsettle her, but she refuses to believe in ghosts. With her Christmas Eve piano performance approaching, she can’t afford distractions.

Enter Brett Love, a rugged local rancher who’s as intrigued by Gillian as he is determined to protect her. When he lends her one of his dogs for safety, it seems like the perfect fix, until the nightmare turns real.

A violent confrontation leaves Gillian’s hand maimed, her music performance in jeopardy, and Brett questioning the solitary life he’s always known. This Christmas, it will take more than faith to keep their dreams, and hearts, alive.

Little Pieces of Ideas that Wander Through My Mind

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I was on a writer retreat with my bestie, Liz Flaherty a couple of weeks ago. It was fabulous. We wrote, we drank wine, we ate chocolate, we talked, we processed her book and mine. Our retreats are always as Liz puts it,

“… harbors, as in they are places of refuge and safety, places for gathering, resting, and repairing. They are narrow and small and contained and when we are finished in them, we are ready and happy to return to the open sea of our everyday lives, both our writing ones and our real ones.”

Isn’t that gorgeous? And so very true.

We talked about the little pieces of ideas that wander through our writer minds—snippets of conversations, words, things we notice that perhaps no one else notices. We share ideas about settings, even as minute as the furnishings in a specific house in a setting. That got me thinking about where my random ideas rest in my imagination—on a chintz chair, I think. Faded old flowered fabric on a huge overstuffed chair sitting in a sunny spot under the eaves. Maybe there’s an ottoman, but it doesn’t have to match because honestly, my decorating style, like my writing style, is as random as my ideas. So why would I imagine something that matches?

Everyone has word pictures in their minds—and often it takes just seeing a pair of fancy cowboy boots in a store in West Yellowstone, Montana, or a rusty pump on a ranch in Virginia City for a story to start to happen.

The what-ifs are the things that writers and readers store away in the chintz chairs in their imaginations, and they are as myriad and varied as readers and writers themselves.

So, here’s a list of just a few of the random pieces of ideas, thoughts, and word pictures from my chintz chair:

  • She exuded grace and intelligence
  • A streaky sunset
  • A child mute and blinking in terror
  • He let go of my hand and suddenly I was untethered and adrift in my own thoughts.
  • Rumpled (Isn’t that a great word?)
  • A train stops at a small snow-covered station
  • What if I look in the mirror and someone else stares back.
  • He crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture (Okay, I’ve used that one in more than one book, but it’s still on the table because it’s such a wonderfully sexy word picture.)
  • Earthy and raw
  • Coffee that tasted like morning . . . or was it the other way around?

Doesn’t that cozy chintz chair up there make you want to curl up and read or nap? Share a way that you find the cozy and comfy when you need it. There’s an e-book copy of Forever Cowboy waiting for one lucky commenter.

Until next time…

 

 

Old Bull’s Heavenly Visitor & Give-away

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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

 

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Montana!

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When Jane Porter, my publisher at Tule Publishing asked me to switch settings and write sweet, small-town romance in Marietta, Montana, I have to confess, I was more than a little apprehensive. Right off, leaving safe, familiar River’s Edge, where “everybody knew my name…” was a little sad, although I’m not sure I’m done with RE forever. Also, it was daunting to come to a setting that was already created, and by amazing writers who are way more experienced in the ways of the West and cowboys than me. Frankly, I’d never been to the West before and I knew nothing about cowboys. Oh, I’d spent lots of time in California and I’d been Oregon, but those were family and vineyard vacations. I was intrigued with the whole idea of moving to Montana, though, and joining authors I love in Marietta.

The first order of business was to read—I was already a Marietta fan, so I knew some about that little fictional town in Crawford County, Montana. With the help of my amazing editor, Sinclair Jayne, and all the great online information available at Tule, I began to know the town even better. But it occurred to me that if I was going to write more than one book in Montana, maybe I’d better go see it for myself.

I called my friend and fellow Tule author, Carol Light, and said, “Hey, wanna go to Montana?” Carol was an immediate, “You bet, when do we leave?” We picked Big Sky country because it was not too far from Bozeman (neither is Marietta), and the VRBOs there were out-of-season, so fairly reasonable. To be honest, Big Sky, the town, is a winter playground for snow skiers and snow boarders, but all around the area are ranches and not far away is Virginia City and Ennis and other towns that reeked of cowboys and Western life.

In late July, I left my local airport at 8:30 a.m.; Carol left her local airport 10:15 a.m. and we met up in the Denver Airport. Then we flew together to Bozeman–one of the cutest airports I’ve ever seen! There are bears and moose everywhere and some crazy huge bird hanging from the ceiling! The whole airport was mountain stone and cedar beams–really pretty and lodge-y (If that’s not a word, it should be). We also saw the coolest ad for a fishing outfitters that felt like the universe was telling me that moving from River’s Edge to Montana is a capital idea! Take a look!

There are 64 mountain ranges in Montana and our condo was nestled right in the middle of the Madison Range at an altitude of 7000 feet. Lone Mountain was visible from Big Sky as well as several other mountain ranges, including the Gallatin Range and the Absaroka Range, which are part of Marietta lore.

We spent two days of our week at Yellowstone National Park, which is just overwhelming and spectacular! Carol used the term “moonscape of boiling mud and geysers” to describe the Fountain Paint Pot thermal field and Old Faithful. I can’t think of a better way to say it. It was awe-inspiring and this little Midwestern gal couldn’t stop saying, “Wow!” What a spectacular experience that national park was!

When we drove west to Virginia City the first thing I noticed was that the landscape was so very different from Big Sky. In Big Sky, it’s all huge mountains and pines. As we headed west, the terrain changed to rolling hills and pastures and wheat and hayfields. Junipers dotted the landscape and there were lots of ranches and fences and sagebrush. I absorbed it all–even-saw a ranch that reminded me of what I imagined Del Foster’s ranch to be–and oh, the cows and horses! Virginia City and Ennis were real Old West towns and just steeped in history!

I think the most important thing that we discovered there is how big the world is–Big Sky indeed! The mountains overwhelmed us every time we went outside even though we were only halfway up. We loved tramping to Ousel Falls, so I would have a picture in my head (and on my phone) of what I imagined Juniper Falls to look like. I absorbed Montana and imagined the little town of Marietta in each place we visited. We saw enough cattle ranches and guest dude ranches that I can add some authenticity to my Juniper Falls Ranch stories. The Big Sky area wasn’t as cowboy-centric as I imagined it would be, but the vibe was definitely Western.

All in all, this move to Marietta is going to be a fun journey. I can’t wait to share my cowboy/Western romances with you! Hope y’all will come along with me to Marietta and Juniper Falls Ranch!

All My Best,

Question: Have you ever had to change course and do something entirely different? How’d it go?

Petticoats & Pistols