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A Historial Fiction Romance novel following six women who are their on the way to join their future husbands.
They meet all types of people, some can be trusted, other shouldn't be. Knowing the difference between the two will mean life or death.
Please enjoy chapter one:
Excitement filled the air. Anticipation pulsed through each man as the group of six hid along the ridge. Thunderous noise deafened any words spoken between them. It didn’t matter. These braves worked together as a team many times before
On hands and knees they moved closer to their goal. Running Bear took the lead. Tasa followed closely behind.
The skin of the old buffalo robe bore heavily down on Tasa. Thick unsettled dust that formed from the herd’s movements stung his eyes and choked his throat. His body, which glistened only moments ago, now dripped with sweat as the sun’s rays beat on the dark animal skin. A few more steps and he would be next to the herd. His arrow already found its place against his bow. Well defined arm muscles tensed in readiness.
Since the herd was already moving more than at a leisurely pace, once the braves exposed themselves the danger would increase tenfold. The pack would stampede.
As if in a choreographed dance, the braves threw off their burdens and fired rapidly into the nearest bulls. Tasa’s strong legs kept him running along side of the large animal. Reloading and firing until all quivers were empty, two of the mammoth beings went down.
The disturbance unsettled the remaining large beasts. In a group, all responded in terror. The rambling thunder increased, and the earth danced as it carried the vibrations.
Hunters sought refuge behind the fallen creatures as the pounding hooves of the frightened herd careened over the bodies of the lost. Finally, only a few stray enormous animals remained as if uninterested in the events happening around them. Three more buffalo sacrificed their lives for the good of mankind before the day was over.
Running Bear led the songs to the Creator, giving thanks for the bounty from this day’s work.
Unlike hunts in the past only the men took part today. There would be no women, no children, or old men to help.
The few other people were back in camp, nursing the ill. This band had separated from the main tribe as they moved to their summer grounds. White man’s disease had come to them. Two members had already died. One old man and the newest child, only three months old, had perished. The rest, who took ill, fortunately survived.
The buffalo herd coming so close to them was considered a good sign. Soon, all tribe members would be strong. In a few days they could continue their way to the main group. The delay from butchering, preparing the meat, and skins, would be worth the time.
The hunters were too far away to hear. The seventy year old man, who was unable to prevent the slaughter, laid dead - his great grandson by his side. A blood covered blade was still gripped tightly in his hand. Four women and six children managed to flee into the woods and hide.
White Dove and Spring Flower weren’t as fortunate. They were sitting at the fire preparing a meal when the attackers came. For them there would be no place, nor time, to run and hide.
Leading their horses loaded down travoises the braves smelled the smoke. Each glanced nervously at the other. Their pace quickened. Songs of success by the returning hunters turned in to the wails of a death song as they took in the scenes of destruction in front of them.
The camp’s ruination was almost complete, but for the one lone lodge that remained standing. The other three were either smoldering or had already burned to the ground.
Running Bear’s wife, Spring Flower, died in his arms. Tasa found White Dove in one of the smoldering teepees - apparently beaten and raped. Their unborn child… aborted… lay dead between her legs.
The description the survivors were able to give of the five men who carried out the slaughter burned deep inside Tasa’s heart and mind.
When the time came to complete the march to rejoin the others, one brave was missing from the group. Tasa went in a different direction. He went to seek revenge.
Alone, Tasa walked the paths through the mountains during the day. During the night he lay upon his blankets tossing and turning. When he wasn’t so restless and sleep did actually find him, he dreamt or rather the nightmare. Over and over in slumber, Tasa relived the horrific sight he beheld that afternoon. Two or three times a night he’d rise up covered with sweat to find his heart pounding. He’d gasp for breath as the tightness within his chest seemed to refuse him the needed air to breathe.
White Dove belonged to Tasa. She was his, his life and his breath. He refused to accept that she was gone. For awhile, he’d pretend he was on a journey, and she’d be there waiting as she always did. She’d rush into his arms the minute he came into view. Throwing herself into his embrace saying, “I have missed my husband.”
Later, alone in their lodge she would show Tasa just how much she missed him with her body. Late into the night they’d lay snuggled close together whispering the words lovers do.
It didn’t matter if he was gone for a day or weeks. She would treat him as if he’d been gone for months.
“Ah, White Dove,” he sighed. Her fingers ran through the beaded fringe of his shirt - the last shirt White Dove made for him. There was a small tear in the right sleeve and more than half the beads were now missing. It didn’t matter to Tasa that the hem was frayed and ragged.
Tasa prayed to the Great Spirit often to wake him from this event and discover that it was all a bad vision.
The trail led him to a small shack deep in a gully hidden behind a few trees. By the time Tasa finished with the man, not only did he admit to being there, but he named the others as well.
Tasa did not keep his word of a quick death if the man told. Tasa savored each scream as it ripped forth from his victim’s throat.
It took a few days for the high of revenge to wear off before Tasa was able to close his eyes and sleep. He didn’t wake during the night for the first time in weeks. He dreamt of the man’s death.
It took Tasa a total of thirty-one months to complete his mission. Two renegade Indians and three white men died at his hand. Tasa stood over his last victim, and as the blood oozed from his own wounds, he realized now that his revenge was complete and he had nowhere to go. His heart still grew tight when he thought of what he lost. He lacked any desire to return to his people.
His quest now completed, left him not only a hardhearted man, but an empty one as well. If somebody proved foolish enough to cross Tasa, the fool only did it once. He drifted from place to place until he met a man named Wade Masterson - two unfeeling “peas in a pod” as the old saying goes.
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My idea of... Wolfkeeper
The Wolf plays an important part in ...
I decided to share some pictures of them. Also, a short tale. And what I think Wolfkeeper would look like.
The Two Wolves Within
An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice...
"Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt great hate for those who have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die."
"I have struggled with these feelings many times. It is as if there are two wolves inside me; one is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.
But...the other wolf... ah! The littlest thing will send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all of the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing."
"Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."
The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"
The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."
-- -- A Native American tale told many times around the Sacred Fire
Even though their cute in pictures, Please remember if you ever in the wild it's their home. And they are wild animals. Please respect them. If you haven't been here before just scroll down and you'll see lots and lots of things the peer into..
A request for help..anyone know how to add music to the site. I though Native American music playing in back ground would be a nice touch..
Nice great day!
This is the last excerpt from,
Not even Black Claw heard them, and he was only five miles from the farm where they originated.
Three renegade Apache braves passed through the farmer’s field and entered the yard looking for food. Upon hearing the chickens it was decided to steal a few and leave. The ruckus the uncooperative birds made resulted in Sean MacDonald rushing out of his house with his shotgun in hand.
“That damn fox!” he yelled. “I’ll get you this time.”
All might have gone all right; except the last thought on Sean’s mind was Indians. When he saw them, he hesitated as his mind switched from the threat of foxes to the threat of the human kind. The split second it took to refocus cost Sean his life. The knife thrown forced itself deep into it’s intended target’s chest. Without even an utterance of surprise, his body crumpled to the ground. The rifle fired as it slammed into the dirt.
To prevent the chosen chickens from squawking and thrashing about their necks were slit allowing the red liquid to form thin trails in the dirt. Two of the three raiders already headed back to the cover of the forest.
The noise of a slamming door alerted the remaining brave someone else was there. The man was running.
“What the H…” Angus exclaimed as he turned the corner of his home returning from a needed trip to the outhouse.
He started to go to his father’s prone body when he felt the arrow hit his left shoulder, and since he was still trying to adjust the remaining buttons on his breeches, he went down. Seeing him fall the lone brave turned and ran following his comrades into the forest.
It took Angus half an hour to steady himself enough to mount his horse and ride the short distance to town for help.
The people didn’t need to hear his words. The blood oozing down his arm was all that were necessary to see something was wrong. Immediately a small crowd surround the injured man.
“They kill’ him. They kill’t him.”
“Whoa, boy who got killed?”
“Somebody fetch the sheriff.”
“I’ll get the doc.”
“Help me. Get him off the horse.”
“Gotta stop that bleed’n”
“My Da.’ Injuns they kill’t my Da.’’
“INJUNS.” Several voices answered back in unison.
After the self-appointed so-called sheriff arrived, and the doctor showed up. The plan quickly formed to chase after the thieving murdering savages. Eight brave men joined the posse. Armed and ready to shed blood they rode out of town.
The evening shadows had grown long and he rode on the animal’s back since morning. With tired muscles, after dismounting Black Claw built a small fire and roasted the hare he found earlier in the day. All afternoon, he thought of the tasty meal he would enjoy when he stopped for the night.
The searchers smelled the meat’s sizzling juices even before they spotted him. The farmers and tradesmen didn’t know the difference, between an Apache and any other tribe of Indian and in reality, it wouldn’t have mattered if they did. ....
As you look through the site you will see pieces of the story of the Wolfkeeper's Woman.The story is only around 60,000 words. I given pieces from Wolfkeeper and Cassie (Ghostwoman). I also shared bits from the others who have stories of their own to tell in the book.
Thanks for stopping in and please share the site with a friend.
Wolfkeeper's Woman on sale here. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00A31PMO0 and all Amazon sites around the world.
Lisa hopes the new year brings you all you wish it too.
A tad more from: Wolfkeeper's Woman
The lone rider entered the homestead slowly. The cabin was not quite as the letter described it. The place just didn’t feel right. He expected it to be further developed. It lacked the orderliness that he expected from his brother. It left the rider wondering if maybe he made a wrong turn and this wasn’t the right place after all.
“Maybe, I am at the wrong place,” he said aloud hoping it was true.
“Hello! In the cabin, anyone home?”
He saw the rifle barrel as it pushed through the gun hole of the window’s shutter.
“I mean no harm," he called out.
“Whats your'n business here?” A voice asked.
“I am looking for my brother Frank and his wife.”
The rider could hear people talking inside, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
“You need to tell'm, Clet.” the female voice said.
The man voice behind the door hushed his wife.
“Pearl,?I ain’t telling him not'n. We’s squatters here till the paper work is done and this here'n man looking for'n his brother might ruin it for us. You want that, do you, huh? Do ya? Then hush'em up and let me handle this.”
Turning back to the window he yelled back at the man outside.
“Don’t know no. Frank. The widda’ Benton might know em’ shes lived around here for awhile. It’s to the east through them ‘der woods.”
The rider realized he wasn’t going to get any answers here. He turned his horse toward the woods and headed east. Less than five minutes later, he entered another clearing.
This one area before him had a two-story structure half log cabin and half-wooden plank house sat in the middle of the property. A shed, a small barn, and corral surrounded the home. The front of the house had flowers along the front porch. It was neat and tidy. Two children sat beneath a large oak tree growing between the home and barn.
“Mama, mama. We gots company!” The young girl yelled.
The man on the horse watched as a woman in her thirties walked on to the small porch. The boys stood as if they were guarding her. The thought brought a smile to his face.
Tipping his hat, he said. “Are you Mrs. Benton?”
“My name is John Clark and I’m looking for my brother and his wife.”
John saw the reaction as the woman before him stiffened in response to his words.
“Michael, take Mr. Clark’s horse and rub him down. Mr. Clark, you might as well come inside. You ain’t gonna like what I got to tell ya.”**
John dismounted and started to walk his horse over toward the corral that’s when he saw it. A new grave covered in fresh flowers. He heart tightened in his chest. He quickly forced the bitter bile back down his throat by swallowing hard. The sour taste remained in back of his throat. He was too far away to read the name, but apprehension still filled his gut.
The smaller boy watched as the man eyed the grave.
Was all he said. He said it as if that was all anyone needed to know. John’s eyes followed the boy as he ran back over to the girl sitting under the tree.
Normally, he took his steps two at a time, but not today. He didn’t feel like bouncing anywhere. Feet filled with lead deliberately climbed the steps, landing solidly on each one. She was waiting for him. A slender hand held open the screen door for him to enter.
The woman didn’t stop at the small parlor, but headed straight for the kitchen. the man followed her lead.
“Coffee’s warm, would like you like some?”
“YES, ma’am. I’d very much like a cup. Thank you.”
Handing him the cup she asked. “Do you it take black?”
Becky indicated for him to sit as she sat down.
“Well, John, I really hate to be the one to tell you but Frank’s dead. A little over two months ago. Injuns.”
She stopped to let her words sink in and watched as he bowed his head.
Here is a tender man just like his brother Frank. She thought.
Her own wounds were still open and raw as tears formed. The warm salty tears flowed quietly down her cheeks. She felt John’s hand pat her hand in comfort.
“I lost my Todd the same day. Call me, Becky, OK... Todd and I loved your brother and his family.
“Family? I knew Cassie? But?”
“OH, dear it ’s gonna be a long day. I guess you don’t know just how slow the mail is here. That’s if you ever get any mail.” Smiling she added. “My letter to my own ma telling her, I had a son, took so long to get to them, they came to visit when he was a little over a year old and the letter was waiting for them when they got home.”
Shaking his head in agreement he understood the lack of communication. That is why he came, sometimes you just have to know about those you care about.
Changing into a more serious tone Becky began to tell John the sad things he had a right to know.
“They had a son about three months before they; the Indians came. They took Cassie and the boy with them...”
Large teardrops filled her eyes and the remembered pain causing her words choke in her throat.
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We are going to jump right in...
There was an excitement about the camp. Outsiders had arrived.
“The French trader is here.” Gentle Doe told Cassie.
Twice a year the Frenchman journeyed to the villages on the mountain. Twice each year the people could trade with him. Cassie from a distance watched the people haggling for his wares.
“Ghostwoman?” (author note.The People referred to Cassie as the Ghostwoman) A young brave called to her.
She didn’t know his name even though she had seen him in the camp a few times. Apparently, Wolfkeeper was busy working with the horses and sent the boy to fetch her. She found him in the corral with the animals.
‘‘The French trader has come. You are to trade with him. I am too busy to take you. Red Fox will take you and you will trade for us. Replace the knife that broke. In addition, he has many things, so be sure to ask to see his foodstuffs as well. Don’t forget the white man’s sugar and get a bag full. Woman, you may choose anything else you want for the lodge. I mean anything. I will settle up with him later. Can I trust you to see to our needs?”
He half ordered and inquired.
Why is he always so full of surprises? Why would he trust me?
She hadn’t done anything to earn it. Unsure what his motive might be she agreed and wondered.
What is he up to now?
That’s it; she figured it out…our needs… he said. If she did poorly selecting the things they needed and he’d to go without, so would she. Then she would ever hear to end of it. Would he beat her? She decided or rather hoped, not.
But, he would sure nag me to death over it and surely he’d call me a stupid woman again.
“I will do as you ask,” she answered knowing he didn’t ask but told her what to do.
The Frenchman named Pierre watched her walking toward him. He saw immediately she was not of, The People.
“Bonjour, Madame.” He spoke with a heavy French-Canadian accent.
“Can I be of aid to you.” he asked.
Red Fox explained she was to be given anything she requested and his uncle would settle later. The Frenchman knew this boy’s uncle Eagle something or other and knew the amount would be fair. The boy’s family had many important members.
The trader Pierre smiled telling the woman to make her choices. Cassie purchased the knife; sugar; flour; corn meal; molasses; raisins; dried apples; two blankets, and a Dutch kettle. And a box of lemon scented soaps among a few other things.
‘‘How long will you be here in case I have forgot anything?” she asked.
“ I stay, three days each time I pass through,” he explained and then in a lowered voice, “Is there any other way I can help you?”
Did she dare? Red Fox had moved out hearing range.
“Where do you go from here?” Cassie whispered.
“After three more camps I end up at Fort Trent. Do you need help?” He inquired knowing she did.
“I must leave here. I am not here by choice. Will you consider taking me to the fort?” She still whispered.
He eyes raked her body up and down Cassie didn’t miss the lust as he eyed her. She continued anyway.
‟I have a child that must go with me.”
When he told her under no certain terms would take the child. She grew upset until he explained he had to go to the other camps, not to do so would endanger her escape. The people might let her go but the child, never.
Cassie would not chance the life of her son. She asked about the next time he came. He will return in the fall. He told he could arrange it so this was the last stop. However, he then moved to his winter camp and didn’t go to the fort until spring. Lecherous eyes raked her again.
Would he chance it? Would she chance it?
Bending low to her ear he whispered,“The winters on the other side of the mountain are very cold, Madame. Do you know what I would expect from you?”........
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Français : « Le fameux Pierre Le Royer », photographie prise en 1889 tirée de L'album universel, vol. 19 no 31. p. 721 publié en 1902 dans lequel l'image est recadrée.
Another Excerpt from:
A lot has already. happened to Cassie and her son while traveling to Wolfkeeper's home
Today's read starts at the arrival to The People's village.
Dread of the unknown filled every pore of Cassie’s body. The grip around Wolfkeeper tightened. She could not count the number of tepees. The sounds of excitement filled the air as news of the group’s return spread. Dogs barking, people’s voices, and the expectation of children’s shouts reached her ears. The noise of the Peoples excitement grew louder around the returning warriors, Cassie’s panic grew with it.
Could the man in front of her feel her trembling?
Even though she didn’t know what to expect, she did not expect these many people.
Terror edged its way up her spine. Three of the braves went in separate directions. Wolfkeeper and the brave with her son remained together. Making their way slowly through the camp. Many people greeted one or the other and sometimes both warriors. A slender woman approached them. Both men halted their mounts before her.
‟Welcome back, we are glad to see you and all those with you who have returned are safe and well.” The woman said smiling up at them.
She was young but not a child, Cassie thought. She seemed nineteen or twenty years old. The Indian woman was pretty, she decided. Her pleasure and excitement over seeing them seemed genuine and more personal than the others. Cassie wondered if the man in front of her and the young woman were possible related maybe, even his wife.
"Wife of my brother I accept your true words of welcome.” He responded. Cassie observed the woman whose voice sounded almost like music when she spoke.
Wolfkeeper’s sister-in-law's greatest wish was to have a child. Three times she carried children, but none of them were ever born alive. The heartbreak was destroying her. Naturally, her husband Eyes-like-eagle also grieved over their losses. However, no longer, now this gift will restore joy to them.
The Wolfkeeper continued. “She-who-weeps, you will no more weep.”
His arm extended toward other warrior. “Give my gift to her.”
Prancing Bear dismounted and handed the small bundle to the woman.
Wolfkeeper spoke again.‟See your son, and be She-who-weeps-no-more.”
Finally, Cassie’s brain clicked into gear. She started to try to climb down, but the man in front of her had gripped her arm that was around his waist and she could not move an inch. She started to scream for him to let her go to her son. Her breath stopped when a searing pain run up her arm. Wolfkeeper had her wrist in a bone crushing vice like grip.
‟PLEASE, Let me go, please.” she pleaded as tears poured down her face.
‟Silence and stay still.” He barked at her. The paralysis had already reached her shoulder. The pain was still growing. Cassie understood his intent and barely whispered yes. She had to make the extricating pain stop......
**pictureLee Bogle-Close To The Heart. Limited Edition Print (Paper)
Thanks for sharing Cassie's ordeal...Although I'm sure there much more she'll have to accept that will tear at her heart..
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An excerpt from the first Chapter:
I hope you enjoy.
Cassie smiled when the two grown men started running. On seeing them scramble breathlessly up the hill apparently another contest had begun. At first, they ran neck and neck then suddenly, Todd fell. She started to laugh thinking he decided to be funny. He liked to cut up and would do so often.
When Todd didn’t rise to continue the race Cassie grew a little concerned and wondered if he had injured himself. She heard Frank shout something at her. Her husband now began to move faster up the hill toward their cabin.
He didn’t run fast enough. He collapsed not twenty feet from her. His arm reached out in vain to warn her. Instantly, the sound of laughter died in her throat. She watched a red stain spread rapidly across the back of her husband’s blue-checkered shirt. Three arrows protruded from his back as he lay unnaturally still.
The noise became deafening. Hoots and hollers from the attackers amplified as they echoed off the nearby hills. Each shattering the serenity of her once peaceful valley. It took all Cassie’s effort to keep herself from cowering due to the piercing clamor, and to tend to the events happening before her eyes.
As she stepped off the porch her legs failed to carry her. Cassie started to screech an eerie sound as she sank to the ground. The shrill noises that came from her were a cross between a hungry wolf in pain and the roar of a ferocious bear.
The unearthly screams of despair caused the hair on the back of attacker’s necks to prickle. It stopped the warriors cold in their tracks. They grew quiet and listened to the anguished cries. However, their assault hesitated only for a few moments.
Timothy, the couple’s two-month-old son, disturbed by the turbulent events happening outside responded with howling sobs of his own. Raising her head she listened and recognized her infant son’s cries. Cassie hesitated in deciding whether to help Frank as he lay dying, if not already dead, in the dirt or go to shield their child.
The infant son that son lay inside the cabin in the handcrafted cradle especially made for him. It kept him warm and safe, until today.
Cassie unconsciously counted the raiding party it consisted of five warriors. Turning her head toward to the cabin, staring at it, she understood there would be no time to think of a plan of action; only time for reaction. She had no choice, but to try to save him. Forcing her legs to move through some until today untapped inner strength she stood up.
Precariously, she began to climb back up the steps onto the porch. Knowing in truth, she would not be able to protect either of them. In one surprisingly fluent motion she entered her home and swept her beloved offspring into her arms.
She turned to discover that one of the braves had followed her inside. Her eyes filled with terror. Frozen, she stared at him. After watching a sneer form on his lips, as her vision locked on to the marks painted on the warrior’s face.
There were five dots under one eye. Only, they were not just dots they resembled teardrops. Her gut wrenched, knowing those were not tears for him, but tears of his victims and soon possibly her tears.
The knife blade in his right hand seemed to glow as the sunlight danced reflectively off it.......
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Maybe Cassie's home looked like this.
Next bring you glass and sit a spell.
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A little reminder...have safe weekend.
OH...Goodie you stopped by. I hope you enjoy your visit. This week's excerpt was difficult to figure out what to use. For you first time visitors there are other excerpts on the site covering the opening chapters.
So far: Clint has kidnapped his stepbrother George's fiance. After keeping her hidden for a couple of months he seeks his revenge on George.
In the late afternoon, as the warmth of the day began to recede, they arrived in Madison. Never having been there before, Samantha turned side to side with wide-eyes trying to see everything. On one side of the street there was a general store, a bank and a saloon.
The opposite side held a barber, feed store and another saloon. Further down the block she noticed the marshal’s office, a dress maker and a saloon. Across from that was a dinner hall, blacksmith and another saloon.
The next section contained an apothecary shop, a doctor’s office and yet another saloon and a large stable that also sold leather goods.
Samantha smirked and sarcastically said, “What no saloon on this end of town?”
“Sorry, didn’t hear you, what?” Clint replied as he apparently wasn’t been listening to her.
“Never mind. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”
At the end of the main street of the town was the railroad station. For a moment Samantha quizzically thought Clint might be headed there, but he turned left instead.
He stopped in front of the town’s hotel and pulled the buckboard to a halt then wrapped the reins twice around the brake handle. The noise of people exiting the hotel drew her attention. Samantha gasped as she recognized one of the men as George.
“Hello, George,” Clint said loud enough that everyone there stopped and turned in their direction to see who spoke.
George pulled his gun. When he looked up, Clint’s gun was already aimed at him. The man’s eyes swung to Mac on his horse who also had his Colt .45 aimed at him.
“What you want, Clint?” George asked re-holstering his weapon while he replaced his hate-filled sneer with an insincere grin.
“I think I got som’em of yours.” Clint leaned back, so George could see the woman his large frame had hidden from view.
“Samantha!” George moved to go to her, but the sound of two guns being cocked stopped him cold in his tracks.
“Uh ugh, let Smithy there fetch the lady. You stay right where I can see ya.” Clint held his weapon steady and waved his free hand toward Smithy as he spoke.
George nodded the go ahead to Smithy. The tall skinny man moved quickly down the steps and around the wagon to where Samantha sat. As he began to assist her off the conveyance, she turned and said her last words to Clint.
“Bastard, you’ll pay for this.”
He retorted in a strange tone, “I’m sure you’re right.”
The man led her up the steps toward George. He held out his hand to her. However, just before they could reach each other the man in the wagon announced loudly so all could hear him. ...........
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Welcome to another edition of SampleSunday
A little more of :
(For the newbies: Carla (Princess had a date with a guy from work that went from bad to worse. She now finds herself held hostage by the Insurrections a MC gang and under the protection of Hank. Hank (the ugly hulk) wasn't should if he wanted to be the hero she needed or the aggressor he was expected to be.)
It now lay open in front of her. Carla smoothed out the paper. The burger sat in the middle. It didn’t surprise her to see the burger. They didn’t know and she didn’t know they were going to be bringing food for them.
Three pairs of eyes (the gang members sharing their table) each after rolling their own eyes followed Carla movements with fascination.Daintily, Carla removed the bottom bun. She learned the meat patty usually sat on the bottom. She removed it and placed it next to the sandwich.
“What the hell are you doing now, Princess?’ His barked words startled her and her jumped. To Mick and Libs this seemed funny and were giggling.
Carla gave them both the evil eye or as evil as she could. Which made them laugh harder. Hank smirked and barely shook his head at them. Being long times friends they knew he was about to entertain them and Carla would be the brunt of whatever he planned.
“Princess, stop playing with your food and put that sandwich back together the way it’s suppose to be.” He spoke in his most commanding voice so far that night.
Immediately, the woman sitting next to him began to perspire.
Please saints alive I need this night over with. She prayed.
“Hank, I don’t eat…”
Not allowing her to finish.He said, “Put the sandwich back together and stop this--this what ever your doing and eat it.”
“Hank, please I…”
“For Pete's-sakes.” and he grabbed the paper and pulled it toward him. He rearranged the sandwich himself. When completed he pushed it back in front of her.“Now, eat the damn
Somehow, Hank again had Carla terrified and also she felt like a misbehaving child not wanting to eat her dinner. Seeing no way out of it. For she just knew he’d sooner stuff in down her
throat if she continued to refuse to eat.
Six eyes watched, four under hidden eyelids, as she lifted the sandwich to her mouth and took the daintiest bite humanly possible. She replaced the sandwich down on the paper as she chewed the morsel in her mouth and chewed and chewed.
Satisfied she could if she tried hard enough to swallow it she lifted the glass of cola and in one large gulp washed both drink and food down her throat.
Placing her hand on his arm to get his attention. All of a sudden his own food seem to require it.
“Hank. I need to use the ladies room.” She informed him once he looked her way.
He was already began to moved to allow her to get out of the booth before he said, “Sure, Princess, sure.”
Can't you just hear the door go bam!
Carla had reached the doorway of the room she sought when Hank asked Libs to follow her.
Carla held her hands under the running water when Libs entered. Without hesitation she pounced.
“Please Libs, you got to help me. I have to get away from
here.” Her eyes teared up and threatened to fall. Trying her best not to let take happen for if it did she would no longer have control over herself.
Surprising her Libs answered, “What you need to do it stop irritating Hank. His a good guy and you just keep pushing his buttons. They don’t make them like him anymore.
Carla thought it but wisely remain mum. ‘Thank goodness they don’t make any more like him. He’s a bully and a tyrant.’
“He likes you and for whatever reason you seem to make him happy. I don’t get it. You seem a whiny thing to me. But that’s not for me to say.”
‘Whiny?’ Oh she wanted to challenge that last remark. However, she couldn't think fast enough how to say it without it coming out sounding exactly like she was whining. So she used her old come back.
The other woman wasn’t done. “Another thing, Hank is a man of honor, if you’d just try to do it his way you’d figure it out. That the man would give and do anything you wanted. You’re not very bright are you?’’
Apparently, as Libs saw it there was nothing left to say or discuss as she entered into a booth and closed the door behind her.
Carla did not possess any desire to stand there and listen so she quickly left the room. Only this time she made sure the door didn't slam behind her.
Hank stood waiting for her and he wore a smile. She returned his grin with a frown of her own.
Cold greasy hamburger, anyone?
Settled in she looked at thehamburger before it felt barely warm to the touch so now it surely was cold.
Two hands picked it up and with eyes closed she began to eat a second time. Nibble-wash, nibble-wash drinking trying the eat burger All the while Libs words kept replaying in her head. She put the sandwich down and tugged on Hanks sleeve.
Hank, thank you for the food and drink. I was hungry and thirsty. Did I ever tell you that I don't eat meat I don’t or very rarely eat meat. Especially hamburger meat. It’s been in all
the news just how bad…well never mind. Thank you any
“Well, thank you. I like to take care of my gal.”
Bite your tongue. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
Smile sweetly and eat the stupid
hamburger. She forced her head to scream it a few times. But she did just as her brain told her to.
She ate half of it before he announced they were leaving. Leaving now.
Before she could get a word of protest in they were back in the odious little bungalow. Carla sensed his mood changed at once.
He engaged in light hearted banter.
“So my, Princess doesn’t like to eat meat. For a kiss I’ll promise to remember that.”
Hank was sitting on the bed’s edge and somehow he wrapped his legs around her ankles. It gave the impression she would not be going anywhere until he finished playing his
“Look. It’s been a long day and I want to go home” She tried once more.
When Hank pulled up to let her catch her breath she in amazement realized he held her twisted in his arms and about to lose her balance.
“Oh!” she cried out.
A deep masculine voice reassured her. “I got a hold on you,
Reassured was the last thing Carla felt as he lowered her to the mattress.
“Damn,’’ she said.
“I know kissing you for some reason is the damnedest fun I’ve in a long time. I can’t get enough of you.”
Hot moist lips again covered her mouth. She fumed when he cut off her words yet another time. Determined to have her say she mumbled though the last kiss.
“Shhh, Princess, this isn’t the time to talk. This is the time to get to know you better.”
She intended to say,“Humph.” But it came out, “Mummph.”
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Today I thought I'd bring a excerpt for chapter 6 from..
could be Pete's place
He had city slicker written all over him. The man had been expected sooner. He facial expression did nothing to hide his irritation.
A two hour spin up to the mountains to help his cheap brother out needlessly turned in to three and a half-hour excursion. Ticked off at himself for not throwing the GPS in the car and on the verge of being violently angry at Fred for the wrong left turn seventeen miles back. Which before he realized it was not right Rufus had driven a sixty-eight miles out of his way.
Rufus wasn’t a chicken hearted man. Still it took him all the guts he could mustard to continue to walk not only into the smoke filled room, but he had to walk all the way up the bar, a good forty feet.
Trying his best to ignore the commotion his entry stirred up he kept his head down and only watched where he immediately placed each foot. The whistles and obscene comments were aimed at unsettling him succeeded. Very much aware this gang liked to provoke incidents. Tonight there would be no way he’d raise to the bait.
Ox stuck his foot out at the
last possible moment. Rufus had
already raised his foot and realized he would not be able avoid tripping. The man’s weight shifted in an useless move to spare himself a fall. It didn’t work.
He tumbled on Ox’s boot and
landed face down on the floor inches from the bar. He sprung back up faster than he fell.
Through the cat calls,
snickers and challenges being hurled his way he profusely apologized to Ox. Before Ox could respond Tots intervened. He ran from behind the bar and brushed the man clothes off.
“Now Ox. I had one fight too many already tonight. I asking… I asking
for me. Let it go this time, ok?”
“Well, Tots you saw He…”
“Around of beers on the house.” Tot called out. Small scale pandemonium
broke out as the men rushed up to the bar. Mick stepped behind the counter
and filled in for Tots.
Where's the Bud?
Tots turned and steered the
city-man out the front door.
“Thanks. How can I ever repay
you?” Rufus asked.
“Just get away from here,
“I'm going. Trust me on that.
But, I was looking for my brother and
his date. He called and said they would be here waiting.” He nervously looked at the door when the noise level went up.
Brother or no brother he needed to leave this place and fast.
Tots eased Rufus’s mind some when he said, “Oh yea, That couple. He was ticked off about something and they called a cab an hour ago. Sorry.”
Rufus thanked the lying man again and hastened back to his own car. He fully intended to not only give Fred a piece of his mind. He was seriously considering a big punch in the nose when he next saw him. He could've gotten himself killed tonight in that place.
“When I get my hands around your neck.” Rufus threatened his brother out
So focused out the get away from Pete’s Bar and Grill Rufus drove right passed
Fred’s car. Of course, with the hood and driver’s side door missing and the wheels on blocks as the sleek new low-profile tires Fred’s bragged about for three weeks, now looked good if not better on Jimmy’s K’s ride. A reconditioned 1987 Chevy Super sport.
Hey it's blue. What do i know from Chev SS or Ford ...?
It might even be difficult
for Fred to recognize his own baby with the new paint job cutesy of the ‘Bloodstains.’ The local street gang was proud of this one.
Graffiti galore. The swirls of black, tan, and red covered most of the vehicle that once was light blue. Everyone now knew the Bloodstains challenged the Switchblades turf, and the most important announcement of all that Patsy loved Jimmy K.
The anger Rufus now carried stayed with him not only the whole drive home but for the next two days. Until it become obvious to the family Fred had not returned home and was missing.
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