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.
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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.