Can her love heal the Medicine Man's heart?
She Paints My Soul
The Medicine Man Book 3
by Karen Kay
Genre: Native American Historical Romance
HER LOVE HEAL THE MEDICINE MAN'S HEART?
In spite of her fear of Indians, Sharon Wells travels from her home in St. Louis to Indian Territory in the northwest, along with her fiancé, and her friend Amelia, who is determined to return to Blackfoot Country. An orphan, Sharon yearns to be married and have a family of her own. She’s loyal to her fiancé, even when he carelessly puts her life in danger.
Strikes Fast, of the Crow People, was once on the path to becoming a medicine man, but he has lost his way. When nearly all his family were killed in a Blackfoot raid, he went on the warpath to avenge the ghosts of his murdered family. But he’s carried revenge too far, and the blood of innocents has left him feeling no longer human, without empathy or sympathy. But the beautiful white woman, Sharon, ignites a spark in him. When she’s captured in an Indian raid and her fiancé does nothing, Strikes Fast hopes his heroic deed of rescuing her might return him to the good graces of the Creator, from whom all medicine men receive their powers.
Strikes Fast’s handsome masculinity calls out to Sharon, as her beauty and her kindness calls to him. Trapped together in a blizzard, surrounded by danger, and despite the many reasons they shouldn’t be together, their growing love is undeniable. Can they find a way to heal one another and create the family each of them is longing for?
Warning: A sensuous romance that might just melt a gal's heart
Fort McKenzie, built where the Missouri and the Marias Rivers meet
Northwest Indian Country
The Season of Home Days, August 1840
Sharon Wells screamed and awakened to the sound of bullets spitting overhead, followed by ear-shattering explosions. Placing her hands over her ears, she hunkered down in her bedding of soft furs and blankets, reaching toward the place where David, her fiancé, should have been.
he wasn't there. Bringing up her hands to cover her head, she tried to become invisible while the whiz of bullets crackled overhead.
What is going on? Why am I under attack? where is David?
Because the night had been warm and pleasant, both she and David had spent the evening in each other's arms under a canopy of stars. A painter, had earlier placed his art equipment of canvas, easel and paints on a wide ledge overhead. From there, David had said he hoped to capture the early-morning sunrise, immortalizing its image onto the canvas.
Shaking, Sharon assumed a fetal position, and, so great was her fright, she began to convulse as though she were seized by a fit, there under the cover of the soft fur blankets.
Wherever you are, please hurry back to me, David!
Peeking out from the warmth of her covers, Sharon saw it was still dark; it perhaps being the time of day when the world was blanketed in the extreme darkness before dawn. Had David awakened and left her to climb the bluff, hoping to paint the beauty of the sunrise?
If so, why hadn't he taken her with him, especially since he often bragged about how she inspired the best artistry in him?
She wasn't allowed to answer the question, however, because suddenly, and from out of nowhere, the running feet of perhaps hundreds of men rushed by her, seemingly without seeing her. With a force of will, Sharon controlled her quivering and, unable to stop herself, peeped out again from beneath her blankets.
The sight of Indian warriors made her sob, and she thought she might faint. Each one was stripped of all clothing except for his breechcloth and moccasins, and each was painted in black, white or red colors which covered his face and body. Each man she could see was carrying a rifle, as well as the more familiar Indian garb of quiver, arrows and a bow.
As she shivered and tried to make herself invisible, a feeling of utter terror overtook her. Why, oh why had she ever agreed to come to this far western land?
Luckily for her, during the night she and David had placed their bedding beneath a tall pine tree and the enemy warriors were ignoring the tree, racing by her as though they were each one hurrying to be the first to launch an attack upon some poor victim. Was their target the Pikuni camp? Or were they attacking the traders' fort?
Trying to force her body to be as motionless as possible, she was aware she wasn't able to do it. She was shivering, and she cried silently as she waited until there were no more warriors fleeing by her. Then she stirred uneasily, because her thoughts were of two minds: she desperately wished to arise and climb the bluff in search of David, but fear kept her in place, mute and fearful of making a single move.
Meanwhile, down below in the Indian encampment came echoes of the awful sounds of blasts and screams. Had the Pikuni people awakened to find themselves facing this horror?
It was then that she excused David for his absence, since it he who had suggested they spend the evening on this butte. Had he not done so, she might even now be experiencing the fate of the people below.
But, what about my dearest friend, Amelia, who will still be down there in the Pikuni camp? Should I leave my hiding place and rush to try to find her?
Instinctively, Sharon knew she didn't dare go down into the Pikuni camp. Instead, she would pray that Gray Falcon, Amelia's beau, would protect her.
Then upon the early morning atmosphere came the sound of many pairs of heavy feet running back up the butte as quickly as possible. Was the enemy fleeing? Had the Blackfoot warriors sent them scurrying?
Yes. It seemed to her as if the enemy were in full retreat. Too late it occurred to her that she should have left her hiding place and climbed the tree above her for added protection, but there was not the time to scamper up it now. Instead, she covered her mouth to keep from screaming and tried to control her shivering. And, crouching down, she waited.
Hours seemed to pass before the sound of the battle was little more than a single shot heard here and there. Down below in the Pikuni camp came the inevitable wails of the women. Obviously, people had been either injured or killed.
Still, Sharon waited and waited, so terrified she could barely move. However, as time went on and she heard no more sounds of the battle, she raised her head and peeped out from the blanket of furs. No one was about.
Slowly, she sat up onto to her knees and glanced quickly around the environment. In the east she could see the beginning of a gray haze announcing the coming of the sun. Would now be the right time to set out to find David? It was still dark enough to provide cover for her, yet it was light enough so she wouldn't lose her way.
Picking up the buckskin blanket and throwing it over her head and shoulders both for protection as well as a disguise, she came up to her feet and stepped toward the path leading upward toward the high butte—the one where she and David had set out his equipment.
Hopefully, David, too, had successfully hidden from the enemy warriors. She forgave him his negligence and perhaps even his cowardice since she couldn't imagine him fighting these Indians; he was ill-equipped to go into battle, for one reason. Although he always carried a gun for self-defense, he would have been caught unprepared to fight off this kind of enemy.
Deeply relieved at still being alive, Sharon breathed in a long breath and, letting it out, stepped a foot upon the path leading upward. That's when the awful yelp of an Indian war whoop spilt through the air. It sounded close to her, and, spinning around, she beheld a horse and its rider speeding toward her.
Momentarily, she was struck with the unreality of what was taking place. The rider on the horse was a huge man, was painted in black stripes covering his face, and, below his shoulders, he looked to be naked. The sight sickened her.
It was a reality she could not believe was happening to her, and one she had hoped experience in this strange and foreign land. Watching with horror as the man—looking more fiend than warrior—raced toward her, she felt as though this were no more than a nightmare and she merely needed to and the awful sight would be gone. But, as he came closer and closer, she realized this was no dream.
As quickly as possible, she threw off the blanket and ran up the path, her screams for help loud her ears. no help was to be seen or experienced this morning.
she wondered, is David?
As the enemy darted toward her, she suddenly discovered she possessed a spark of courage, and, realizing that fleeing would do her no good—she could not outrun a horse—she stopped her flight. She would take her stand here.
She turned then to watch the big ugly warrior ride toward her as though he would knock her down and kill her with one simple movement of his lance. Oddly, she wondered if the man would fetch a good price for her scalp because of the unusual coloring of her hair. It was strange because she felt suddenly unafraid. Indeed, if David were dead and if this were to be the place where she would die too, she would face the event with as little flinching as possible. After all, death came unto all creatures upon this earth. She wished, however, that the event happening to her so soon in this life.
Even though the warrior's actions were quick, it seemed to her as if the events taking place around her were in slow motion, giving her more than enough time to consider her own death. After all, mightn't death be preferable to being taken captive by an enemy? Hopefully, the end of her would be quick and with as little pain as possible.
She watched as though from above herself as the horse continued to speed toward her, and, coming right upon her, the warrior's big arm came out to grab hold of her. She was jerked upward and thrown before her captor onto his racing steed; she faced downward as the awful scent of a sweat-drenched man and horseflesh made her gag. It was a painful position; she had been thrown onto her stomach, and, closing her eyes, she prayed to God for a quick death and an everlasting salvation.
It was her last thought before, thankfully, she lost all consciousness.
She Captures My Heart
The Medicine Man Book 2
Worlds. Two Hearts. A Forbidden Passion.
Amelia McIntosh was only fourteen when she fell in love with the young and handsome Gray Falcon of the Blackfoot Tribe. He’d helped her through a difficult time, and, for him in turn, she’d opened up a vital part of the medicine man's world. Five years later, Amelia is still in love with the mesmerizing Gray Falcon, but her refusal to marry anyone but him has created a dangerous problem for her and her family.
When Amelia—the pesky little girl from Gray Falcon's past—returns to the Northwest, he can't help but notice she has blossomed into a beautiful, desirable woman -- one who sets his heart aflame. Yet, he must resist her feminine charms because, though she is a friend, what she asks of him is against all Gray Falcon stands for as a medicine man.
United only in love, will love, alone, be enough to stave off a world threatening to pull them apart?
Warning: A sensuous romance that might cause a gal to capture the heart of her own true love.
She Steals My Breath
The Medicine Man Book 1
Beauty Takes His Breath Away… Only She Can Restore It
Eagle Heart of the Blackfoot Nation has not come to the trading post, Fort Union, to trade, but to find his missing brother. The medicine man has never seen a white woman, but, when she walks into the room, her beauty literally steals his breath.
Laylah McIntosh has assets besides beauty that make her valuable to her father, the fort's trader: her skill with numbers, her photographic memory and her knowledge of the sign language used by all the tribes. But, when she’s injured and caught in a fierce blizzard, it is Eagle Heart, alone, who rescues her.
Forced into each other's company, their attraction deepens. But a union between them is forbidden in both their worlds.
Can their love find a way to survive? Or will their differences separate them forever?
Warning: Sensuous romance and a love written in the stars could cause a gal to go West in search of love and adventure.
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Bestselling author of Native American Historical Romance, KAREN KAY is a multi-published author of romance and adventure in the Old West. She has been praised by reviewers and fans alike for bringing insights into the everyday life of the American Indian culture of the past.
As Reviewer, Suzanne Tucker, once wrote, “Ms. Kay never fails to capture the pride, the passion and the spirit of the American Indian…"
KAREN KAY's great grandmother was Choctaw, and she is adopted Blackfeet. Ms. Kay is honored to be able to write about the rich culture of a people who gave this country so much.
“With the power of romance, I hope to bring about an awareness of the American Indian’s concept of honor, and what it meant to live as free men and free women. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”