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Nancy Morse
Category:
Historical Fiction
Publisher: Nancy Morse
Type: Fiction
Pages: 331
Copyright: Dec. 14, 2021
ISBN-13: 9798784723070
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Wild Wind Series Book 5
Can the love that ignites between the Lakota warrior and his white captive survive when a lie leads to a heartbreaking choice?
In 1883, as the final spike of the Northern Pacific Railroad is driven into the ground, completing the iron road through the heart of Lakota country, Black Moon’s nephew Storm carries the war lance into battle against the railroad. But with his abduction of a railroad magnate’s niece, the reckless warrior gets more than he bargained for.
High-spirited New York society girl Eliza Prentiss grudgingly accompanied her uncle to the wilds of Montana Territory to commemorate the completion of the railroad, but with the ceremony over, she is eager to return to civilization. When her train is attacked by Indians, she is taken captive by one of the renegades and brought to his hideout.
Struggling to come to terms with a painful past and the changing world around him, the only thing that can soothe Storm’s vengeful heart is love, but his efforts to court the fiery white woman in the hope of winning her love are dashed by her hatred.
As weeks go by and Eliza’s attempts to escape are thwarted, she is reluctantly drawn into the Lakota world and into the arms of her captor, who awakens within her feelings she has never known.
Can the love that ignites between these two wild hearts survive when her ruthless uncle summons the military to track down her abductor and teach him a powerful lesson and when a lie forces Eliza to make a heartbreaking choice?
Excerpt
“You’re a bully,” she vented. “A scoundrel and a dirty savage.” Her agitation mounted. “You sit there munching on a disgusting piece of dried-out meat with that horrendous thing hanging around your neck.” She cast a look of disgust at the necklace of bear claws resting against the front of his shirt. “You don’t know the first thing about being civilized. You’re nothing but a…a…” She struggled to find the right word to convey her abhorrence. “A wolf,” she spat. “A mean, terrible wolf!”
He swallowed down the last bite of pemmican, rose, and walked to his horse. “Sunkmanitu tanka,” he said.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Eliza groaned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He lifted the gourd from the pommel and untied the rawhide thongs securing a rolled-up scarlet blanket behind the hide saddle. “Sunkmanitu tanka,” he repeated. “Wolf. An animal that looks like a dog but is a powerful spirit. If you are going to call me one, you might as well know how to say it.”
Eliza gasped. “Y—you sp—speak English.” She paled to think he had understood every word of her tirade.
“The wolf is my spirit guide,” he said. “After many winters walking the sacred path he returns to share his knowledge. When a wolf walks by you, you will remember it.”
His voice was surprisingly deep and sonorous, and if she closed her eyes, she might have been tricked by its beguiling tone. But the sulfurous threat in those midnight eyes disabused her of such a notion when he turned back to her and said, “If you want to insult me, you would do better to call me a white man. But I would caution you against doing so unless you want to see the wolf in me.”
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