Thank you for looking into,
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.
If you would like to read the rest of the story here's the link> http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EEDTFYG
Thank you, so much for stopping by.
Please this page with a friend.