Friday Freebits with Ginger - #frifreebits #blogshare

I'm continuing with six paragraphs from White Heart, Lakota Spirit, my western historical release from Eternal Press.  In this book, the heroine from Destiny's Bride is present, and although this is a stand-alone story, I suggest you read Cecile/Green Eyes' history to familiarize yourself with her decision to stay with the Lakota as it plays a role in Grace's life.  I really enjoyed researching and writing this book.

Here are my six this week.  Enjoy:

 Realizing her mother hadn’t followed, Grace rose up on her knees and peeked outside. A pack of whooping Indians rode round and round the wagon, their voices creating a din of eerie screams while bullets exploded. The hair on Grace’s arms stood on end. She covered her ears, crouched against the sidewall and prayed the savages would go away.

Shots rang out from beneath the wagon when Papa and Kevin returned fire.  Fretting over her mother, Grace peeked out again. Mama shrieked and grabbed for the tailgate, but a mounted marauder

pumped a bullet into her shoulder. She fell, silenced for the moment, but tried to struggle to her feet. The Indian shot her again.

 Grace’s screams echoed in her own head. “No! Oh God, Mama,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Mamaaaa...”

Overpowered by hopelessness, Grace looked on as the painted rider stopped next to Mama’s fallen body and emptied another round into her. A stream of bright red trickled through the dry dirt, and her beloved mother lay motionless. Bile rose in Grace’s throat. She collapsed into a cowering heap, silenced her sobs with her hands, and clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.

God hadn’t intervened so maybe the ordeal was all a bad dream and Mama wasn’t really dead. Still, the shooting and whooping continued. Pounding hooves sent dust seeping into the wagon,

and Grace sputtered. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t awaken from the terror.

The gunfire suddenly ceased. She listened for the awful war cries but heard nothing but stony silence. Terror brought her breathing in ragged gasps. Were her brother and father still alive? And what about Mama?

*****

Available on my Amazon page.  Favorable reviews are greatly appreciated.

Now, please visit the other participants and see what they are offering this week:


Jamie Hill
Tricia McGill
Juliet Waldron
Taryn Raye
Kathy Fischer-Brown
Rhobin Lee Courtright
Margaret Tanner

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits #blogshare

Welcome back.  This week, more from White Heart, Lakota Spirit.  Hope you are enjoying the read.

 She gazed at the hills where sunburned and smelly men searched every day for the elusive gold. Rumors had exaggerated its abundance, but that didn’t dampen Papa’s spirit; he was determined to find the mother lode. The sea of browning grass around her whipped in the breeze, stirred her loneliness, and turned her insides hollow. Her eyes misted. How long did Papa expect her and Mama to sit idle all day? A person could only do so many chores while conserving water in this…this purgatory. Grace raised her gaze skyward. “Please God, let Papa find gold soon, so we can get back to civilization.”

“Grace, dear!” The sweet sound of Mama’s voice interrupted her prayer. “Get the flour and salt out of the wagon. We’ll be needin’ some biscuits to go with the beans for dinner. Papa and Kevin will be hungry when they come down from the mountain.”

Great! Beans again. What she wouldn’t give for some variety.

She shook her head. How could Mama call this place home?

Grace climbed on the wagon tailgate and searched through the food bin, and finding what she needed, slid back down to the ground.

“Got ‘em, Mama,” she called. “If you want, I’ll make the biscuits.”

At least helping with dinner gave her something to do.

A shelf bolted to the wagon bed served as a work area. Grace

made space for her bowl and mixed together the floury concoction

to bake in a Dutch oven. She longed for the luxury of the cook

stove in their last home, despite not being there long enough to

truly enjoy it. Papa had traded a team of horses for the old iron

giant, and Mama had claimed she’d died and gone to heaven when

he and Kevin toted it inside.

Grace stopped stirring and sighed, staring blankly at the white

expanse of wagon bonnet in front of her. The family had had more

homes than she could count. Mama always told her they moved so

much because Papa was born under a wandering star. Sometimes

Grace wished it would fall to the earth like other shooting stars

she saw at night.

All my books are available on my author's page at amazon.  Someone thought this cover smacked of eroticism??????

Now...here's the list...jump on over to the next person's site and check out their offering:

Jamie Hill

Tricia McGill

Juliet Waldron

Taryn Raye

Kathy Fischer-Brown

Rhobin Lee Courtright

Margaret Tanner

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits #blogshare

Hi, and welcome to Friday Freebits, where a group of authors share six paragraphs with you each week. I ask them to link back to me where the main list is shown.  So, after you've read my contribution, hurry on over to the next person in line and enjoy their offering:

This week, I'm staring with six paragraphs from my western historical, and sequel to Destiny's Bride, White Heart, Lakota Spirit.  This is from the prologue:

Grace trudged along behind the wagon, struggling to keep up with her mother. Though the prairie grass grew knee-high in some places, the wheels found the dust hidden below and spiraled the powdery dirt into the air, covering her hair and skin. Her muscles quivered with fatigue.

The day stretched on as her father kept the family moving, in search of the right place to stop. The more exhausted she became, the more her thoughts turned to bitterness. Why did they have to leave their home?  Was it this stupid thing called gold fever?  She didn’t want to live in a wagon. She wanted her own soft bed back… and her own cozy home.

She smacked her dry lips and cursed the day her father announced the beginning of this horrible journey. He’d walked into the house, slapped his hat against his knee, displayed his usual heartwarming smile and said, “Pack up the wagon. I’ve got a plan that’ll make us rich.”

The anger she experienced then gripped her again.  Grace had just gotten used to being in one place for any length of time. She’d actually found friends her own age and enjoyed their company. Now, surrounded by endless prairie, and glancing at her family, she realized how much she missed her classmates. Tears clouded her eyes.

 The creaking wagon wheels, plodding hooves, and rustling grasses were the only sounds she heard.  Pa guided them toward the distant mountains—the Black Hills, where precious ore supposedly ran in golden veins so thick the brightness rivaled the sunrise. Funny, from where she stood, they looked like any other mountains.  Nothing more than granite peaks jutting from a sea of grass and dotted with trees and scrub brush.

Mama marched through the weeds ahead, her head held high and her shoulders squared against the growing wind. Where did she get her stamina? She seemed to be faring better than Grace. Her mother’s admirable tenacity and devotion to Papa went without saying. Even when he uprooted the family, Mama never complained. If given the same opportunity, would Grace be such a follower, she wondered? Would she ever get a chance to find out? Suitable husbands didn’t pop up in the middle of nowhere. Being an old maid seemed her fate in life. 

Next week, I'll continue, but if you can't wait, all my books are available via my author's page.

Now...here's the list:

Jamie Hill

Tricia McGill

Juliet Waldron

Taryn Raye

Kathy Fischer-Brown

Rhobin Lee Courtright

Margaret Tanner

Interview with Grace from White Heart, Lakota Spirit:

While I'm on my short little vacation, I'm leaving my characters to entertain you. 

Today my guest, Grace Cummings, the heroine in White Heart, Lakota Spirit 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:  Okay.   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 Conestoga, 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 wagon 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 chuckles)

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 White Heart, Lakota Spirit by Ginger Simpson is offered at http://www.eternalpress.biz.  If you prefer Kindle...it's on Amazon. There's more to story, and if you're like me, you want to know how things turned out.  Happy reading!

  

Holy Cow, It's December 1st

Where has this year flown?  Seems the older I get, the faster time flies.  I'm not complaining because Christmas is my very favorite holiday and time of the year.  Not so much for getting gifts as giving them.  This year, my sister, her boyfriend and my husband and I are going to volunteer at a homeless shelter and serve food.  We decided instead of buying gifts for each other when we already have so much, we want to give back to those less fortunate.  We are rich beyond measure if you count our blessings as we do.

So, what plans do you have for the holidays?  I'd love for you to share them.  I'll also be posting some pictures from friends who want to share their decorations and traditions.  I still have spots open, so if you want me to display a picture, just email it to me.

Oh, and don't forget that the Launch Party for Muse It Up Publishing is today, and also begins the holiday blog fest on the Muse Blog.  Join us, won't you.  It'll be fun.  And mark you calendars for the 7th.  Eternal Press is launching this months new releases, and my White Heart, Lakota Spirit is among them.  Did I mention that Hurricane Warning is available now from Muse?  So many releases, so little time.  :)

Oh, The Torture!

I've been a sick puppy for the past few days.  No energy, so I apologize for not coming back and announcing the winner of my April Fool's story contest.  Martha Lawson...congratulations.  Your PDF copy of White Heart, Lakota Spirit is on  the way.  As sad as I am to admit that the true story was NOT number one or two, THREE is the real deal.  Yep, that's my Kelly...a disaster waiting to happen, but he's like a good book you can't put down.  You have to stick around and see how it ends.  *lol*

I don't often use my blog to promote my other "appearances," but I do hope you will take time to stop by Trent Kinsey's website and see what a fantastic interview he's posted of little ol' me. He asked some pretty interesting questions and gave me an opportunity to explore my own self, and I made a revelation about why I'm so non-productive in my own "cave."

I've spent the past two days watching TV movies, but according to the class I just took, that's a helpful thing to do because it helps me notice plot points, how conflict, both internal and external, are used in the story.  Soap Operas...not so much.  I find myself talking out loud to the TV over the unrealistic way the story unfolds.  We, as authors, get chastised if our stories are not believable, so how can TV directors and producers get away with it?  Just drawing on my own life experiences, I know prisoners are never allowed visitors in a private room, or, in the very least, searching or using a scanner to check the incoming body for weapons or contraband.  Heck, when I was a correctional officer, we had a sweet looking Granny bring in a big milkshake for her grandson...who at the time happened to be a trustee.  That's a position earned on trust, as the title indicates.  Anything brought into the jail was still searched, but on this occasion, the other C.O. took the drink and tried to insert the straw into the cup.  It met with resistance which of course led to him pouring the shake out and discovering a baggie of tobacco, wrapping papers and a lighter in the bottom of the cup.  You can't trust anyone in the environment.

But back to my original gripe.  Who wakes up in the morning with makeup that looks like it was just applied?  With breath fresh enough for delving kiss?  Or hair that isn't flattened on at least one side.  Really, fiction is fiction, but let's have a little reality in the presentation.  While the hero rolls over and gives the heroine a "deep throat" type of kiss, I'm saying, "YUCK," because I know what my mouth tastes like in the morning.  It can't just be me.

And predictable??? Today, the young soap star jumps into his girl friend's (although she claims she's only his tutor) car, tears out, wheels a spinnin' and an angry look plastered on his face.  She's in the passenger seat, begging him to slow down.  Instead, he whips out his cell phone and begins texting.  Imagine my shock when she yells, "Watch out!!!!" and bright lights flash in their faces.  Who saw that coming?  And was I surprised to see the two in a public service message about the dangers of texting while you drive in the next segment?  So predictable.  But the hook?  Now I have to watch Monday and see what happened to them.  So, even soap operas, although often asinine can teach authors what NOT to do in their books.

So, now that I've had a good couple of days learning lessons, maybe this week I can get something accomplished on one of my WIPS.  I really would like to have a new release in the not so distant future.

And, don't forget to visit Trent's site and tell him what a wonderful job he did. 

It's Only April Fool IF you believe...

Story Number One:

I woke up this morning to the smell of fresh coffee.  Before I even had a chance to roll out of bed, my husband, Kelly, greeted me with a tray complete with my coffee just the way I like it, two slices of toast, some perfectly crisp bacon and a bowl of cheerios.  He knows I don't like eggs and I have to eat breakfast before I can take my new medicine.  While I sat in bed like the Queen of England, he cleaned up his mess in the kitchen, put on a load of laundry and mopped the kitchen floor.  He told me how much he loved me and wanted me to get better so he could stop doing all the work. 


OR Story Number Two:
A long lost friend called me this morning.  I hadn't heard from her in ages.  She said she found me through my website and couldn't believe I'd become an author. She had just finished reading one of my historical romances and was quite excited.  She works for a TV production company in Hollywood and wanted my permission to approach her boss about making my story into a movie.  She wanted to know if I had any knowledge of screenwriting, but alas, I don't.  She said not to worry that there is still a chance she can get a synopsis to Michael Landon, Jr. for a possible production for Hallmark Movies.  Am I stoked or what?



OR Story Number Three:

This morning, my husband Kelly, uncovered the BBQ to make bacon for me.  He found a new type we both enjoy cooked that way, and I was very touched.  I think he was trying to make amends for having suffered a bout of road rage, speeding out of Kroegers because he got mad at someone who wouldn't move, then hit a curb and damaged our front wheel. Probably screwed up the alignment, too.  While I was showing him something on the computer, we started to smell something that didn't smell like bacon. He ran out of the room.  I heard him cursing and went to check.  The BBQ had caught fire and melted the privacy panel outside our back door.  So much for the bacon...and privacy.  After a while, he left for work, and later came home stinking of diesel.  I mentioned it and he admitted to having spilled fuel all over himself, but he insisted on sharing a story about how he witnessed an accident, and despite trying to leave, he was forced to stay and give a statement about what he saw.  He wasn't very happy as this was two times in a week that he had to give a statement to the police.  I sympathized, but refused to have my house smell like a service station, so after my bitching, he went to the laundry room and shed his clothes.  After putting them in the washing machine, he went and took a shower.  We were enjoying a TV show, when he looked over at me with a frown.  "You know," he said.  "I think I washed my cellphone."

It's April Fool, so you guess which one of the three stories is the truth.  To celebrate, I'll pick a name from the comments and that person will win the very first copy of White Heart, Lakota Spirit, just released.

White Heart, Lakota Spirit - Coming Soon

I'm tickled pink to have my cover for White Heart, Lakota Spirit, my historical romance set in the Dakota Hills during the 1800s. Dawne Dominique is the amazing mind behind this eye-catching beauty.

WHLS is an upcoming release from Moongypsy Press, a new publisher with a talented line-up of authors and staff already in place for the grand opening later this month. I hope you'll be on the lookout for it. Check out Moongypsy Press

Here's an UNEDITED excerpt from WHLS:

Lone Eagle crossed the compound in search of his son. Nearing his mother’s lodge, he heard raised voices and saw a crowd gathering at the far end of the village. He quickened his pace toward the commotion, thoughts of finding Little Cloud lost.

Six young warriors rode into camp—their faces and horses painted for war. Shock and confusion jolted Little Eagle at seeing his nephew, Little Elk, among them. Where had the group been? He had no idea they’d left the village. He shoved his way through the throng.

His gaze shifted to the white woman tethered and stumbling behind the Appaloosa of his nephew’s closest friend, Black Crow. Each faltering step testified to her exhaustion. She struggled to remain standing. Her chin lifted momentarily, and she looked directly at Lone Eagle. Long blonde hair hung in matted strands. Her blue eyes, barely visible beneath the dirty tresses, widened with fright. One sleeve of her soiled dress hung in tatters down her arm, and her wrists looked painfully chafed. Raw and weeping red spots peeked through the veil of dust on her bare feet.

Rage burned within Lone Eagle. He stood in the path of Black Crow’s horse and raised his hand. “As your Chief, I demand to know what you have done.”

The band dismounted. Little Elk came forward, pride shining in his eyes. “My uncle, we rode together to make war against the whites. We have brought a captive as evidence.”

Lone Eagle’s icy glare spanned the young braves. He stepped closer to Little Elk and leaned in until they were almost nose to nose. “Your chest puffs with pride, but your actions were foolish.” He fought the urge to shake some sense into his nephew and knotted his fists at his sides. “How dare you decide something without advice of Tribal Council! You have no right to put the tribe at risk of war. By bringing a wasichu captive to our camp, you place our people in danger and bring shame upon yourselves.”

“But, Uncle...”

Lone Eagle held up his palm. “I will not hear from you now. We will discuss this among the elders, but first, is anyone injured?”

Little Elk hung his head. “None of us here...but...but two of our brothers now walk the ghost trail.”

Blood pulsed in Lone Eagle’s temples. “Do you see what your foolish impulse has cost?” He scanned the faces of the young men. “Because you wanted to prove your manliness, two of our people are dead. I will go and call a tribal meeting at once to discuss your actions.”

Lone Eagle spun and stormed away from the crowd.

Interview with Grace Cummings

A few days ago, you met Cecile Palmer Williams, the heroine from Prairie Peace. Today I'd like to introduce you to Grace Cummings, the heroine in the continuation of the saga, White Heart, Lakota Spirit. Although both are 'stand alone' novels, Cecile began the journey in Prairie Peace that she continued in White Heart, Lakota Spirit. I hope you'll enjoy both books.

Today my guest, Grace Cummings, the heroine in White Heart, Lakota Spirit 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, INT will indicate the interviewer's questions below:

INT: 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…

INT: 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.

INT: 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.

INT: 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.

INT: Tell us more about your experience, please.

GRACE: Okay. 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.

INT: Oh my goodness, what did you do?

GRACE: Pa immediately yelled for Ma and I to get back in the Conestoga, 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 wagon 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.

INT: 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.

INT: 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.

INT: 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)

INT: 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..

INT: 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.

INT: 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.

INT: 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 chuckles)

INT: 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)

INT: 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 interview, I guess you'll just have to read the book. (Holds out a copy)

INT: 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 White Heart, Lakota Spirit by Ginger Simpson is offered through her website at http://www.gingersimpson.com and at Wings Press, http://www.wingsepress.com. There's more to story, and if you're like me, you want to know how things turned out. Happy reading!