"Classic Ginger" Interview with Dancing Fawn (Grace Cummings) by Ginger Simpson

Interview with Grace from Dancing Fawn

Today my guest, Grace Cummings, the heroine in Dancing Fawn is here to tell us how she survived being held captive by Indians.  So, without further ado, let's begin the interview:

Just for clarification, HOST will indicate the interviewer’s questions below:

HOST:   It must have been a very traumatic ordeal for you.  Can you tell us about it?

GRACE:  It was horrid. (She shudders) I still hear my mother's screams in my head.  I…

HOST:  Do you need a moment to compose yourself?

GRACE:  No, I'm fine.  (Deep breath)  It was 1874. My family had moved around a lot because my father, bless his departed soul, was a restless man.   It was hard for a girl my age to make friends, not living in one place for very long, and just when Ma, Kevin and I thought we might settle down, General George Armstrong Custer made an announcement about gold being discovered in the Black Hills of Lakota territory.  That's all it took!  Pa loaded everything back into our Conestoga and insisted this was his chance to strike it big. 

HOST:  Why didn't you mother put her foot down?

GRACE:  You have to understand that back then, women were expected to know their place.  Ma pretty much did as Pa said.  Besides, he promised her that when he hit the mother lode, he would buy us a new house; new furniture and we'd never have to move again.

HOST:  I can see how that might have sounded pretty enticing.

GRACE:  It was.  We all had visions of putting down permanent roots, so being out on the plains, cooking over a campfire again and roughing it for a just a little longer was worth it if Pa and my brother, Kevin, found gold. 

HOST:  Tell us more about your experience, please.

GRACE:  All right.   We had made camp at the base of the Black Hills, near a sparse stand of trees.  There was a small stream nearby, so water was plentiful.  Ma and I slept on a pallet of blankets in the wagon, while Pa and Kev slept in a makeshift tent.  We had just finished breakfast one morning and were laughing and talking before Pa and Kev went off to the mine, when I happened to spy some riders on the horizon. It soon became clear from the whooping and hollering that they were being attacked by Indians.

HOST:  Oh my goodness, what did you do?

GRACE:  Pa immediately yelled for Ma and I to get back in the wagon and he and Kev grabbed their rifles and crawled underneath.  I hunkered down behind the tailgate, waiting for Ma, but she never came.  I was so scared, hearing the sound of gunfire and those blood-curdling war cries, I covered my ears, but it didn't help.  When I got the courage to peek outside, I saw the Indians circling our hiding place and Ma running in the opposite direction.  I think she was trying to draw them away from me.  I didn't realize it at the time, but Pa and Kevin were already dead.  They were easy pickings with no real shelter.

HOST:  How awful. 

GRACE:  You have no idea!  (Stopping to bite her knuckle, then staring straight ahead). They…they shot my ma down in cold blood right before my eyes.

HOST:  Oh you poor thing.  What did you do then?

GRACE:  (Dabbing at eyes with hanky) I curled myself into a ball and prayed that it was all just a bad dream, and that I'd wake up.   When I didn't hear anything for a while, I found the courage to rise to my knees and peer over the tailgate again.  I almost had heart failure when I came face-to-face with the ugliest sight I'd ever seen.

HOST:    Oh my gosh, I have goose bumps. What was it?

GRACE:  It was the person I later learned was Black Crow.  His face was painted with bright yellow lightning bolts, and he had a scar that ran from ear-to-ear.  He pulled me out of the wagon, barking orders in a strange language, and threw me to the ground.  I felt like my heart was going to pound its way right through my chemise. (Holds hand against chest)

HOST:  Oh my goodness, what was going through your head?

GRACE:  I was certain he was going to kill me, too.  I think he might have had it not been for one of his friends.  The one, called Little Elk, seemed to step in and calm Black Crow down.  Still, it was an awful thing to go through, wondering if you were going to live or die.  After Black Crow tethered my arms together and dragged me along behind his horse, like I was nothing more than an animal, I almost wished I had died.  I fought to keep up all the way to the Indian village.

HOST:  How far was it?

GRACE:  (Holding out her wrists).  I'm not sure, but you can still see the scars where the rawhide bit into my skin.  I didn't have time to get my shoes on, so my feet were pretty raw, too.  I'm used to walking beside the wagon every day, but being dragged is quite different.  It took forever.

HOST:  What happened when you got to the village?

GRACE:  I was so tired I could barely stand, but I dared not drop to the ground when it seemed like the whole village stood in a circle around me, staring and laughing.  I thought for sure I was about to meet my maker, but something very surprising happened.

HOST:  Don't stop now!

GRACE:  A beautiful green-eyed woman walked into the midst of things and protected me.  She spoke their language and dressed in their clothing, but it was evident from her flaming red hair that she was white.  If it hadn't been for her I would never have survived to tell this story, that and the fact that Black Crow's mother didn't like having a white woman share her home.  (Grace gives a half-hearted chuckle)

HOST:  What happened?

GRACE:  After only one night in her tepee, Black Crow handed me over to Little Elk. He, at least treated me with kindness, allowing Green Eyes to help me bathe and wash my hair.  I was still scared, but not nearly as much.  Pa always said I was headstrong, and it almost got me into  trouble when Little Elk gave me a new name.  (Sitting up straighter, squaring shoulders)

HOST:  Oh gosh, we're almost out of time and I hate to make you stop.  Can you give us a brief summary, and quickly?

GRACE:  Although there is so much more to tell, I'll just say that Little Elk played a big role in the decision I made when the white soldiers raided the camp. Unless you want to invite me back for another visit, I guess you'll just have to read the book.  (Holds out a copy)

HOST:  Is this for me? How nice, and it's autographed.  Grace Cummings, thank you so much for spending time with us and sharing your captivating story. I'd like to remind our readers that Dancing Fawn by Ginger Simpson is offered at http://bookswelove.com/authors/simpson-ginger/.  It’s also offered on her Amazon page, but you won't get the BOGO sale going on right now.  Buy one, get one Free.  What a holiday deal.  Happy reading!

Are you a Romance Addict? by Becky Barker

Please welcome my friend, Becky Barker, our guest here today at Dishin' It Out! 

Becky and I became friends when we were writing for Kensington/Zebra's Precious Gems Romance line.  This was back-in-the-day when Fabio and John DeSalvo (who appeared on my book cover!) were the undisputed top male models.  

Hi - my name is Becky, and I've been a romance addict since grade school. Honestly. Way back then, I found dated, but never outdated, romantic suspense novels by an author named Emilie Loring. Even though she died before I was born, her family continued to publish her work. I read and loved every one of her books. They were my first "keepers." Her stories were my introduction into a world that would become a lifelong (healthy!) addiction as well as the basis for my writing career.

Another of my loves is western romance. If I can find western suspense, all the better. The best advice I was given as an aspiring author was write what you love to read. I've spent the last few decades following that advice. All of my books are contemporary romances. Most of them have a western theme and a good many of them have elements of mystery or suspense. Despite that declaration, the main focus of all my books is the developing relationship between the hero and heroine.

My latest series, BRIDLETON, incorporates everything I love most about the romance genre. There's a family dynasty, a Texas ranching community, three siblings who adore each other despite their differences, and the perfect mate for each of the Bartell heirs. The titles are ANDREA'S HOMECOMING, CHEY'S COWBOY and ZACK'S RANCH.

                 

Are you a romance addict, too? If so, what author/authors influenced your reading preferences?

 If you'd like a complimentary digital copy for a sample of my work, feel free to contact me at: write@BeckyBarker.com


Hugs, Becky

www.BeckyBarker.com
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Becky thank you for blogging at Dishin' It Out!  Readers, please visit Becky's links and download her Western Romances.  Don't be shy, share and tweet our blogs with your friends too!

                                                           

Next week (Friday) our guest blogger is IB Nosey, the Official Unofficial reporter.  All of my readers know IB is my Cyber-Crush. Don't miss out on the fun!  IB is quite a lady's man--it must be his plaid jacket.  Or perhaps, it's the way he handle's that microphone!

Connie

Who the Hell is Harlee Williams? Ginger Simpson responds. #newrelease #novella

Harlee Wagner didn’t expect to fall in the well when drawing

water, and she certainly never expected to be rescued only to find her entire family gone. Logan Carruthers, her handsome hero, insists she rest up before she starts searching and then leads her on a trail consisting of hints and guesses. Will she find her family, or will she discover love? There’s something about his gorgeous blue eyes and broad shoulders that makes her heart flutter. 

Harlee is the heroine in my latest novella, Lost in His Eyes.  I'm having a friend put it on Createspace so I can order my own copies because I love the cover so much.  Doesn't the title totally describe the look between the two?  Of course Jimmy Thomas always attracts attention and this pose just fit my description of Harlee....down to the dress she wore.

Harlee is a little bit of a rebel.  She gives as good as she takes, and she definitely isn't about to let Logan's ma run roughshod over her.  Of course, when Harlee discovers her own family missing when Logan rescues her from the well, the search Logan volunteers for doesn't please Mrs. Carruthers in the least.

Read Lost in His Eyes, and if you're inclined to leave a positive review, please do. Trolls not needed.  I can't learn anything from your unsolicited comments because you have to read a book in order to understand it.  Good news...Books We Love is having a BOGO sale right now:  Buy one, get another FREE.  Check out my BWL author's page...and don't forget Christmas is coming.

Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson #sundaysnips

This week I'm sharing a few teasing lines from Dancing Fawn.  I hope I entice you to want to read more:

Within the ring of stones, colorful flames rivaled each other for height as the wood sizzled and cracked apart. Green Eyes leaned on her husband’s shoulder and enjoyed the rare serenity. Her son, seven-year-old Little Cloud, was spending the night with his grandmother. One full moon had passed since Broken Feather’s burial ceremony, and the child’s continued presence in his grandmother’s lodge eased her loneliness.

For the past two weeks, Lone Eagle had met daily with the elder tribesmen, and tonight he seemed lost in thought. 

Green Eyes tickled his ribs. “Where are you? Your body sits with me, but your mind wanders. We should be making better use of our time alone.”

“I’m sorry, but I have much to think about.” He sounded unusually somber. “Now that I am Chief, my first concern is the well-being of our people.”

Our people. His words touched her heart. Relations with the whites were strained, and messengers from other tribes continually brought news of raids, kidnappings, and killings. Outsiders made her nervous, and she only felt secure with Lone Eagle’s people—her people.

The anguished look on her husband’s face bothered her. This wasn’t the time to think only of herself. “What worries you most, my husband?”  She grasped his hand.

“I fear we will be drawn into war. At the Elder’s Council, there was talk of the white man’s continued encroachment on our land. They violate our treaties, and we can no longer move about safely. Slaying buffalo has become their sport, and our brothers are being killed for no reason. If our tribe had not separated from the rest of the Oglala, we would already be living on a white man’s reservation. There is no way we will surrender our freedom. If surviving means war with the whites, we will fight.”

Her throat constricted. “Where will that leave me?”  She forced the words. “Will our people turn against me because of my skin color?”

***********

You can find Dancing Fawn via my Books We Love Page.  You simply click on the cover and you're taken to a purchase page.  I've done the work for you...click here.

Now....please hop on over to the other gals who post on Sundays, and check out their offerings:

http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/  (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

If you get a page that has an old post...just realize that life sometimes happens, and then check back next week.  I've missed a few myself...summer time is camping time and we don't always have Internet access.  Thanks for checking in and we hope you keep coming back.

Sunday Snippets from Lost in His Eyes by Ginger Simpson #sundaysnips

Hi, I’m Harlee Williams, the heroine in Ginger Simpson’s, Lost in His Eyes, just released by Books We Love.  I’m about to marry Logan Carruthers, the man who rescued me from the darned ol’ well I fell into at the beginning of the story.

I’d like to invite you to share a tidbit to see if this story is something that tickles your fancy:

  She positioned herself firmly against the wall, bending her knees and planting her feet against the opposite wall. Drowning wasn’t a preference and there was enough water if she passed out or fell over while sleeping. With any luck, she’d just nod off and wake up in the beautiful garden Ma read about in the Bible one Sunday. 

 The pictures the hallowed words painted colored Harlee’s mind, and her muscles relaxed. Her head lulled to her shoulder. If her time had come, she was ready. Anything had to be better than the wet, damp hell that claimed her. Her eyes closed, then squinted tighter against a light much brighter than she’d ever seen. Was it the door to heaven?

The bucket banged her atop her head. “Ouch!” The pain brought back her voice.

“Holy Shit ” A deep voice sounded above. Surely, God didn’t curse. Then who?

Harlee tried to adjust to the daylight filtering down the well by holding a shielding hand to her forehead. She looked up, but the dank and dark prison had stolen her vision as well as her voice. Weakness robbed her of the ability to stand. Despite being able to focus on the owner of the voice, she continued to peer up and pray. Finally, she managed to see her rescuer’s outline.

He learned farther over the opening. “Are you alive?” 

Seemed like a silly question since dead people didn’t speak, but she stifled her sarcasm, not wishing to risk her rescue. “I-I think so.” Harlee barely had the strength to respond, but at the idea of being set free, she found the ability to speak…or croak.

“Hold on, Let me see if I can find something to help get you out.”

Out? The word sounded more beautiful than any other she’d ever heard, but when he disappeared from her site, panic seized her heart. Was she hallucinating?

The blue sky loomed overhead and the smell of freshness drifted down to replace the wet, musty smell she’d endured for so long. She released a pent-up breath when a fuzzy silhouette reappeared.

“This place is deserted, but I did manage to find a good, hearty rope. The one attached to this old bucket is so rotten, it wouldn’t hold up a feather. Do you think you could manage to tie this one around your waist and climb out while I pull?”

Tying something around her waist wasn’t the problem. Her legs had grown weak and she doubted she could stand. Still, the idea of living appealed more than dying. “I-I can try.” She braced herself with the sides of the well and forced herself to her feet. Her head spun and she feared she might faint. The rope unfurled as he released it. His comment about the place being deserted didn’t make sense, but then nothing did at the moment.

With shriveled and weak hands, Harlee secured the braided horsehair around her waist, and gripped the lifeline with all the strength she mustered. “Okay, I’m ready, I think,” she called up to her rescuer.

“I’ll pull and you use your feet to walk up the wall.”

“I’m not sure I can. I have no feeling in my feet.

“Well, if I have to come down there and get you, there’ll be no one here to pull us both out. You’ve got to try.”

“I’ll try my hardest.”

She made a first step and a second. Water dripped from her body and splattered into what remained in the well. Her limbs trembled and the coarseness of the rope nipped through the thin material of her dress and chafed her skin. On her third step, her left leg gave out and she slammed against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs and scraping her cheek against the rough stones. The stranger slackened the rope, allowing her to collapse back into the water. Harlee massaged her burning face and even in the dim light saw blood on her fingers. She used the wet hem of her dress to soothe the burning and dab the wound.

“Are you all right?” His deep voice resonated and brought her to her senses.

Wouldn’t anyone who’d been trapped in a well for days be just fine? She took a deep breath and resisted asking him if he was serious.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He yelled louder.

“Yes. My cheek is bleeding and my hands are raw, but I’m ready to try again.” Determination drove her.

“Okay, I’m going to start pulling again, so stand up and hold on tight.”

Her mind whirred with questions she hoped to ask. Harlee struggled to her feet and took a firm grip on her lifeline. “I’m ready; pull. ”

Despite the pain, she concentrated on each step, unwilling to waiver until she reached freedom. Her palms burned and the top of the well appeared miles away. Still, she made sure she kept one foot anchoring her in place before she moved the other. Many times she wanted to surrender, but looking up into the blurred face of her hero gave her the strength she needed to continue.

After what seemed forever, sunlight warmed Harlee’s face and a breeze caressed her soggy skin. The stranger grasped her beneath her arms and hauled her over the well’s edge. Her feet touched the ground, but overcome by weakness, she sagged against her hero. He swept her into his arms as if she was nothing more than a feather and cradled her like a mother would her babe. “There, there, you’re going to be fine now.”

Somehow, she believed his soothing words...especially because of the sincerity shining in his sky blue eyes.

If you like what you read, you can find all my books availabe on my Amazon page.  Check them out.

Now....please hop on over to the other gals who post on Sundays, and check out their offerings:

http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/  (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

If you get a page that has an old post...just realize that life sometimes happens, and then check back next week.  I've missed a few myself...summer time is camping time and we don't always have Internet access.  Thanks for checking in and we hope you keep coming back.

It's Here...It's Here...my New Release, Lost in His Eyes by Ginger Simpson

Harlee Wagner didn’t expect to fall in the well when drawing water, and she certainly never expected to be rescued only to find her entire family gone. Logan Carruthers, her handsome hero insist she rest up before she starts searching and then leads her on a trail consisting of hints and guesses. Will she find her family, or will she discover love? There’s something about his gorgeous blue eyes and broad shoulders that makes her heart flutter.

Yep...my newest release from Books We Love is live, and you can find it in a variety of locations.  I would suggest going to my BWL page and selecting the cover to get to a Payloadz page where you can get you desired format and pay with Paypal or a credit card.  I've taken the liberty of clicking that beautiful cover by Michelle Lee for you.  Like I said...I can't believe how great Jimmy Thomas looks as Logan Carruthers while holding my "Harlee Wagner" in his arms.  Link  Just click it!

Here's a little snippet to tease you:

She made a first step and a second. Water dripped from her body and splatted into what remained in the well. Her limbs trembled. The coarseness of the rope nipped through the thin material of her dress and chafed her skin. On her third step, her left leg gave out and she slammed against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs and scraping her cheek against the rough stones. The stranger slackened the rope, allowing her to collapse back into the water. Harlee massaged her burning face, and even in the dim light saw blood on her fingers. She used the wet hem of her dress to soothe the burning and dab the wound.

“Are you okay?” His deep voice resonated and brought her to her senses.

Wouldn’t anyone who’d been trapped in a well for days be just fine? She took a deep breath and resisted asking him if he was serious.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He yelled louder.

“Yes. My cheek is bleeding and my hands are raw, but I’m ready to make another try.” Determination drove her.

“Okay, I’m going to start pulling again, so stand up and hold on tight.”

Her mind whirred with questions she hoped to ask. Harlee struggled to her feet and took a firm grip on her lifeline. “Pull.”

Despite the pain, she concentrated on each step, unwilling to waiver until she reached freedom. Her palms burned and the top of the well appeared miles away. Still, she made sure she kept one foot anchoring her in place before she moved the other. Many times she wanted to surrender, but looking up into the blurred face of her hero gave her the strength she needed to continue.

After what seemed forever, sunlight warmed Harlee’s face and a breeze caressed her soggy skin. The stranger grasped her beneath her arms and hauled her over the well’s edge. Her feet touched the ground, but overcome by weakness, she sagged against her hero. He swept her into his arms as if she was nothing more than a feather and cradled her like a mother would her babe. “There, there, you’re going to be fine now.”

Somehow, she believed his soothing words…especially because of the sincerity shining in his sky blue eyes—eyes you could get lost in.

****

BTW...this was a book that I self published that just sat there and did nothing despite my promoting it.  I'm so thankful that Jude and Books We Love gave me a chance to bring it to a new life with a much mor exciting cover.

Sunday Snippets from Ginger Simpson #sundaysnips

This week, I'd like to share a little bit from my soon-to-be released western historical novel, Lost in His Eyes.  The cover is in and Jimmy Thomas looks spectacular as Logan with Harlee in his arms.  Yep...you guessed it, it's a romance.  Don't forget...this and all my other books are available via my Books We Love page.  Just click the cover you like and you'll be taken to a page where you can select your format and payment method.  Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy!

Here's a sneak-peek of the unedited version:

The flames danced higher when Logan added more dried sage. The fiery fingers reached for the sky while puffs of dark smoke almost made him invisible. He coughed and backed away, fanning the air with his hat.

Harlee sat with her back against a rock. The sun’s heat still radiated from the stone and eased her sore muscles. She covered her mouth to smother her laughter; her gaze followed Logan as he spread sleeping rolls on both sides of the fire.

“It’s a good idea to sleep far apart, Logan. Your mother would be proud of you.” A sassy tone edged Harlee’s voice.

“I figured you’d be safer on your side.”

“From the animals?”

“From me.” Turning toward her, he grinned. “Are you ready to bed down? We’ll be leaving early.”

Harlee went to her bedroll and slipped between the uncomfortable wool blankets. She reached behind her head and loosened her hair from its ribbon. The canvas on the ground beneath her bedroll crinkled, making her long for the comfort of the guest room. Sounds from the other side of the fire indicated Logan had also settled in, and when the crinkling stopped, the only noise was the crackling and spitting of the flames.

The day’s unrelenting heat turned cold as a million stars twinkled overhead. In the distant night, a coyote howled. The lonely call raised goose bumps on Harlee’s arms, and she snuggled deeper in her scratchy bedding. Although the animal received no response, it sounded far too close.

“I’m cold, Logan.” Harlee sought the comfort of knowing her companion was awake.

“The fire is still going.” He pointed out the obvious.

“I don’t care. It’s cold and these blankets are making me itch…and I’m not so sure about nearby animals.”

He propped himself on an elbow. The fire’s reflection showed his furrowed forehead. “What, exactly, would you like me to do? I put your bed over there so I wouldn’t be tempted by having you near, and…I can toss another log on the fire if you want but that’s the bed you’re stuck with.”

“Didn’t you hear the coyote?”

“Yes, but like I said, the fire will keep them away. Sound can’t hurt you, so let ‘em yowl all they want.”

She sat up, pulling her blanket to beneath her chin. “But what if the fire dies and you’re asleep?”

“I swear, Harlee. I’m bone tired and we have to get up early. 

Would you like me to track the animal down and shoot it?”

“No…don’t do that.” She shook her head, swaying her locks from side-to-side.

“Then what?”

“I want to sleep closer to you.”

*******************

Now....hop on over to my gal pal's sites and see what goodies they're sharing this week.  Don't forget to leave a comment, and if you have time, we also love it when you share the posts by using the buttons for the different sites.

http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/  (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

If you get a page that has an old post...just realize the life sometimes happens, and then check back next week.  I've missed a few myself...summer time is camping time and we don't always have Internet access.  Hope you keep coming back.

A PAGE STRAIGHT FROM...#apagestraightfrom

Yellow Moon

by

Ginger Simpson

Yellow Moon, stood in the arena and eyed the sacred tree.  It’s colorful paintings and images of the buffalo and other trinkets attested to a pending ceremony.  Warriors, dressed as the wooly beasts that sustained the tribes, gathered for a final buffalo dance to herald the piercing of children’s ears.  Yellow Moon wasn’t sure of the reason, but considered it some sort of initiation into the tribe.

While dancing and piercings took place, a runner was sent to summon the Sun Dancers from their lodges where they fasted and meditated.

Very few of the children even muttered a sound as holes were put into each ear lobe.  Taught from birth that silence could save their lives, their bravery was a testimony of their mother’s patience and love.  Would she be a good mother? 

  Yellow Moon turned to the girl next to her.  “Are you as happy as I am that women are excused from having to perform the Sun Dance?”

“Why is that?”  The young woman asked.

“Are you Lakota?”  Inquisitiveness cocked Yellow Moon’s head.

“I am Falling Snow of the Dakota.”

“Oh. Then you also follow Sioux belief that childbirth is even more painful than the levels experienced during the Sun Dance.  That is the reason we are excused.”  She looked back to the dancers and than back to Falling Snow.  “I have seen many births in the women’s hut.  Have you?”

The young woman shook her head, her gaze focused on the line of children.  “There is my brother.”  She pointed out a boy who appeared to be around ten summers, then waved and smiled.

“He looks very brave.  I hope I can be when my time comes to give birth. Although I want many children, I do not look forward to squatting over a trough in the ground while grasping a pole to help me expel my baby.”

Falling Snow’s nose crinkled. “I have heard the cries of many families who have lost a beloved wife and mother to birthing a child.  The thought scares me.”  The girl’s throat wobbled with a hard swallow of remembrance.

“I too, have heard those cries, and watched firsthand during my monthly time, while mothers and babies were called home by the Great Spirit.  We can only pray we are one of the lucky ones when our time comes to be called Ina.”

Falling Snow nodded.  “Do you have a husband?”

“I have been promised to Thunder Eyes of the Santee.  He will dance today.”

The piercings ended and their conversation cut short when the Sun Dancers entered the arena.  Their painted bodies displayed the expected myriad of colors and symbols, and they followed two holy men to a bed of sage beneath the tree.  Those to be skewered lay upon the aromatic herbs while those who chose only to dance or have minor pain inflicted stood to the side.  Her gaze roamed the faces of those standing, looking for someone who resembled Thunder Eyes.  No one came close to looking as handsome.

She shifted her gaze to Thunder Eyes, who lay unflinching, while staring in thought and concentration.  Pride swelled Yellow Moon’s heart.  Was this what Ina felt at hearing her daughter’s name called?

Yellow Moon turned away and picked up a sage wreath with two spiked feathers attached.  She purposely averted her gaze when the holy man knelt to make incisions in her intended’s chest.  She looked back in time to see an awl drawn through the cuts, a wooden peg inserted through the gaping skin to which a rawhide rope, symbolizing an umbilical cord was attached.  She gnashed her teeth for his pain.  Tethered to the tree, Thunder Eyes was to dance while staring at the sun until his skin tore free.  How, she wondered, could childbirth hurt more?

With blood trickling down his chest, but his face still stoic and emotionless, Thunder Eyes was helped to his feet.  Yellow Moon, as instructed previously, stepped forward and placed the sage wreath upon his head.  “You are so brave,” she whispered. 

He gave no indication he’d heard, and adjusted his head adornment.

As the dance began, the sound of bone whistles filled the air.  Thunder Eyes, and the others connected to the Cottonwood approached the tree four times, and with each forward movement, touched the wood with their palms.  Yellow Moon joined the tribal prayers chanted by all to send strength and valor to the tree so those traits passed through to the participants with each contact they made. 

The dance seemed endless.  Only Thunder Eyes remained upright.  Other’s had torn away their flesh and fallen to the ground, still others had passed out from pain.  Those who chose to make less of a sacrifice danced to the side, their movements barely noticed by the crowd as most eyes focused on the skewers that tugged at Thunder Eyes’ chest.  His face remained impassionate and his mood, focused.

His body slanted away from the tree while blood seeped from his wounds, and the rawhide pulling his flesh into peaks made Yellow Moon wince.  His face to the sky, Thunder Eyes’ eagle-bone whistle sounded with each move he made.  Was blowing the instrument his way of dealing with the pain?

The sun had moved to the other side of the sky when he finally fell to his knees in exhaustion.  He quickly struggled to his feet and continued his dance, but only for a short time before the sound of tearing skin replaced his constant whistle.  Fresh red ran from his wounds, but the pleased look on his face denied any pain.  The Sun Dance was over, and Yellow Moon gazed with admiration and respect at her soon-to-be husband before he disappeared into the throngs of people who rushed forward to reward and congratulate him and the others.

Published by Books We Love and available on Amazon.