I recently re-read this book, and remembered why I loved writing it. I think my admiration for the Lakota Sioux shows through in the storyline, as well as my unbiased portrayal of them as human beings who were lied to, cheated, and spurred to the defend themselves and their land based on their betrayal of the white man. I hope my shared excerpt today might stir your interest to read about Grace and Little Elk in this fictional historical romance.
Writing historical novels as provided me the opportunity to research and learn more about the genre I love. Even when I veered to contemporary, I managed to turn both books into time-travels that tie in with the old west. I'm just hopelessly in love with cowboys and Indians. :)
Excerpt: (This gives you an idea of how Cecile's life has changed as she deals with the death of the chief and the possible rise of her husband to the highest status in the tribe.)
The air
inside the tepee grew hot and stagnant with the door flap closed, but Green
Eyes sought solace from the sorrow that gripped the entire village. The morning
fire lay in a heap of gray ashes, but veiled sunlight filtered through the
smoke hole, providing light enough to see. Occasionally, one small ember with
the circle of stone sizzled to life, but quickly faded.
The
constant wailing of the four-day wacekiyapi, or worship ceremony,
continued outside. The woeful chorus replaced the sound of cheerful children
laughing and playing. Chief Broken Feather was dead, and the tribe mourned his
passing.
Green
Eyes rested against her willow backrest and braided her auburn tresses. Her
thoughts turned to her mother-in-law, Singing Sparrow. She and Broken Feather
had been married for over twenty years. Although he’d been a formidable leader,
Green Eyes hadn’t known him very well. Sioux tradition placed men and women on
separate levels, with the men meeting to discuss war, hunting, and visions,
while the women cared for the children, cooked the meals, washed clothing, and
tended to their husband’s needs.
Her mate
rarely complained, and seemed to love her as much as she did him. Lone Eagle
was her life, and she would do anything to please him...anything possible. Her
only regret: She hadn’t yet given him a child. A son of his own. She heaved a
loud sigh.
True, he claimed the child her first
husband fathered, but Green Eyes still carried the burden of failure in her
heart. Often, Lakota men turned to other women to produce more children, and
even though Lone Eagle assured her she had no need to worry, she did. It was
his right to continue his bloodline, but to lose or share him was
incomprehensible. The idea turned her thoughts back to Singing Sparrow and the
sense of loss she must feel. Green Eyes shuddered.
Vivid
pictures of the past flashed through her mind. Fate had sent Lone Eagle to her
rescue when her first husband, Walt, failed to return home and left her
stranded alone in the middle of nowhere. Seriously injured and covered with
blood, Lone Eagle had stumbled into her ramshackle cabin and collapsed at her
feet. Thinking back, maybe she had rescued him. She smiled.
The past
etched vivid pictures in her mind. When Walt married her, she barely knew how
to cook or clean. Her skin, soft and unblemished, changed with her first
attempt at real work—helping Walt repair the barn. With no gloves, her fingers
blistered and split. She recalled how angry she became.
Her gaze
dropped to examine her hands. Her once manicured nails were now jagged from
hard work, and scraping countless animals hides had calloused her palms. Gone
was the naive and helpless Cecile, and in her place, Green Eyes, a woman who
decorated clothing with beautiful quills, made moccasins from softened hides,
and even erected tepees.
During
their trip to the village, Lone Eagle had kept assuring her she would be safe,
but the Sioux’s reception made her question his promise. Curious at first, then
angry, the villagers demanded to know why he had brought a white woman to their
home. But, little by little she gained their acceptance, and found peace and
contentment with the very people she thought hated her.
This excerpt shows a little more dialogue when Grace is brought to camp:
Green
Eyes stood outside her lodge and spread three large rabbit pelts across her
drying rack. A commotion caught her attention, and she crossed the compound to
where a crowd gathered. She stood on tiptoes, looking over shoulders to see
what caused the excitement.
Little Elk stepped aside, and the reason
for the fervor became evident. Black Crow towered over a terrified young white
girl who looked to be around sixteen. Her sobbing had no affect on him, and
with eyes wide with fright, she cowered in the dirt at her captor’s feet.
Intent
on helping the poor child, Green Eyes pushed through the crowd. She tapped
Little Elk on the shoulder. “Who is this girl? Where did she come from?”
“Black
Crow captured her. She will be his prisoner.” The young brave standing before
Green Eyes hardly compared to the twelve-year-old orphan left behind by Spotted
Doe. His body was no longer that of a child, and his voice boomed with
authority.
His
attitude angered Green Eyes. “What were you thinking? You cannot keep her
against her will.”
Black
Crow grabbed the white girl by her wrist and yanked her to her feet. He pushed
Little Elk aside and glared at Green Eyes. “You have no say in the matter. It
is not your place to question the actions of a warrior. Go away from me.”
Appalled
at his behavior, she scanned the area for her husband but didn’t see him. She
squared her shoulders and faced Black Crow. “I may not have the right to say
anything, but your Chief most certainly will.”
Even as
the words tumbled out of her mouth, she shivered in fear that she’d overstepped
her boundaries. The young captive’s pitiful sobs tore at Green Eyes’ heart as
Black Crow dragged her toward his mother’s lodge. Someone had to help the girl.
White Heart, Lakota Spirit is available on Amazon in both print and download as well as through the publisher, Eternal Press.
I love reading you, Ginger. Great excerpt. ((hugs))
ReplyDeleteAnother thing we have in common, Ginger. I love Indian historical . . . reading and writing them, too! I love this book cover, the title, and the excerpt. I will have to add this to my downloads ... my Kindle Fire is filling fsst. I wonder how many book it will hold?? giggle :) Rita
ReplyDelete