Cecile rocked back and forth, pondering the possibility of motherhood. Footsteps on the porch interrupted her thoughts. Funny, she hadn’t heard the rumble of wagon wheels in the yard, but then she'd been preoccupied. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. Walt was finally home! Her lips spread into a wide smile.
Tossing her crocheting aside, she prepared to jump up and welcome him home, but before she got out of the chair, the front door flew open and hit the wall, vibrating the whole house. In staggered a stranger…an Indian. Fear seized her throat. Frozen to her chair, she wondered if this was her time to die.
The man before her was a mirror image of the red-skinned people she’d seen before only in storybooks and magazines, and those tales didn’t portray them kindly. This one wore fringe-trimmed buckskin leggings and shirt, and had long ebony braids. He towered over her; his cold, steely black eyes bored through her.
Cecile stared back, her mouth agape, trying to accommodate the scream rising in her throat. Strangely, she couldn’t make a sound. Escape entered her mind, but even if her trembling legs supported her, where would she run?
As quickly as the Indian entered, he fell to the floor at Cecile’s feet. She remained seated for several minutes, dazed, confused, and frightened, waiting for him to move. When he didn’t, she slowly slid off her chair and knelt beside him.
Was he dead? She gently poked him, and then quickly drew her hand back. Seeing no reaction, she rolled him onto this back and gasped. A spreading crimson stain colored the front of his shirt. He was hurt, and she had to do something. But what? How she wished she wasn’t alone.
Aha...the story takes a turn. Today I end my sharing from Destiny's Bride and move on to something new. If you want to know more about Cecile and her adventure, guess you'll have to get your own copy of the book. Click the link for my Amazon Author's Page.