Showing posts with label Pontiac's War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pontiac's War. Show all posts

Friday, October 18, 2013

Historical Romance Novel Red Bird’s Song on .99 Sale



Red Bird's Song CoverThis sale is for the novel in kindle and nookbook, and runs through Nov 1st, so get yours now.
Red Bird’s Song is a 2012 EPIC eBook Finalist. The setting for this story is the same as the other novels in my Native American Warrior Series, Through the Fire, Kira, Daughter of the Moon, and The Bearwalker’s Daughter, the spectacular Allegheny Mountains, On a clear day, the ridges of the Alleghenies are visible from our farm in the Shenandoah Valley. Much of the history depicted in Red Bird’s Song was inspired by accounts I came across while researching my early American English/Scots-Irish roots (among the first settlers in the valley) and the Border Wars. The French and Indian War is the most well-known, but there were others. Pontiac’s War followed on its heels, and is the war taking place in Red Bird’s Song. Dunmore’s War came after that one and so on it goes. Life in the frontier was unsettled even after The American Revolution had ended and warfare a reality. The boundaries of the frontier just keep shifting farther west.
(*Images of the Alleghenies by my mother, Pat Churchman)the Allegheny Mountains toward Reddish Knob
In the early to mid 18th century, the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia and surrounding mountains were the colonial frontier. Only hardy souls dared to settle here. The bulk of these were the tough Scots-Irish. If the Indians had only had to fight regular British troops, they might ultimately have won because they scared the crap out of men trained for conventional warfare, but the long knives weren’t easily intimidated and soon learned from their cunning enemy. The famous rebel yell came from the Cherokee.
Last of the Mohicans 2Although Hawk Eye in The Last of the Mohicans is an adopted Mohican, his lifestyle is that of a colonial frontiersman. The more rugged of these men dressed as he did, much in the Indian way. They hunted and fought with muskets, tomahawks, and their famous knives. Skilled marksmen had long rifles. Indians soon acquired these weapons and blended traditional ways of living with the new-found tools and warfare of Western man. A highly adaptable people.
The attack at the opening of Red Bird’s Song is based on one that occurred to my ancestors in the Shenandoah Valley and is recorded by Historian Joseph A. Waddell in The Annals of Augusta County. A renegade Englishman by the last name of Dickson led the war party that attacked them.  Initially I’d intended to make the Colin Dickson in Red Bird’s Song a villain but as soon as he galloped onto the scene I knew differently.
Wicomechee, the hero in Red Bird’s Song, is based on the Shawnee warrior by that name who lived early in the nineteenth century and to whom I have ties. The Moffett’s, an early Valley family I’m related to, include a reference to him in their genealogy. Wicomechee’s father, John Moffett, was captured in Kentucky by the Shawnee at the age of eight and adopted into the tribe. It’s said he was a boyhood companion to the great war Chief Tecumseh, a chief for whom I have enormous admiration. The accounts of John Moffett and Wicomechee are recorded by Waddell. It’s also noted that during the Black Hawk Wars Wicomechee recovered the captive daughters of a Dr. Hull and brought them safely into camp, which reminds me of Hawkeye in The Last of the Mohicans. I’ve included more on this amazing warrior at the end of the novel as a bonus for those who read it.
the-alleghenies-the-virginia-colonial-frontier.jpg“With “Red Bird’s Song”, Beth Trissel has painted an unforgettable portrait of a daring and defiant love brought to life in the wild and vivid era of Colonial America. Highly recommended for lovers of American history and romance lovers alike!” Amazon Reviewer Virginia Campbell
Blurb: Can a Scots-Irish woman terrified of warriors fall in love with her Shawnee captor?
Taken captive by a Shawnee war party wasn’t how Charity Edmondson hoped to escape an unwanted marriage. Nor did Shawnee warrior Wicomechee expect to find the treasure promised by his grandfather’s vision in the unpredictable red-headed girl.
George III’s English Red-Coats, unprincipled colonial militia, prejudice and jealousy are not the only enemies Charity and Wicomechee will face before they can hope for a peaceful life. The greatest obstacle to happiness is in their own hearts.
As they struggle through bleak mountains and cold weather, facing wild nature and wilder men, Wicomechee and Charity must learn to trust each other.~
ReviewerTopPick-NOR“A beautifully written story filled with adventure and suspense…This book touched my soul even as it provided a thrilling fictional escape into a period of history I have always found fascinating.” –Night Owl Book Review by Laurie-J
“I loved the descriptions…I felt I was there…Many mystical episodes are intermingled with the events…The ending is a real surprise, but I will let you have the pleasure of reading it for yourself.”  –Seriously Reviewed

Saturday, October 15, 2011

New Excerpt from Historical Romance Red Bird's Song



I’d rate this sample PG13.  Red Bird’s Song, an adventure romance novel with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor, falls between PG 13 and a tasteful R rating.  
Excerpt From Chapter Two:
A smothering sensation enveloped Charity, emphasized ten-fold by the inky blackness. Bears and mounds of rattlesnakes were known to den up in caves. Worse, she shared this confined space with an unseen human enemy.
Heart racing, she bolted upright. “Get me out of here!”
Men stirred on every side of her. Sleepy voices grunted.
“Hush. You will wake all.” Grasping her shoulders, Wicomechee pushed her down onto the woolen blanket.
She struggled to rise, choking back the scream begging her throat for release. “Please. I beseech you.”
He forced her to remain where she was. “Calm down.”
“I can’t. If I don’t get out—”
“Shhhh…” He bent over her and spoke in her ear. “Hear me, Charity. I will take you from here if I must.”
Her panic eased slightly. “You will? You promise?”
“Have I not said? You see the way, just there.”
He pointed to the ghostly opening then wrapped the edges of the blanket around her. “You shake like a leaf in the wind.”
It whistled beyond the cave and the cold air blew inside. Despite the chill, she’d far rather bolt out into the teeth of the bluster and lie beneath the stars than remain in here. “It’s so dark, Mechee,” she said in a small voice.
He lay down beside her so that his shoulder pressed against hers. “You fear the dark?”
Denial was pointless. “And those it holds.”
“None seek to harm you.”
She was acutely aware of men slumbering all around her. “Chaka could kill me before I even knew.”
“No. I will keep you safe,” Wicomechee reassured her.
She relaxed a little more. “How long have we been here? I don’t remember coming.”
“Night is far gone. I brought you.”
Memory returned of him forcing her to trudge on and on through the dark woods until she’d slumped onto the ground weeping uncontrollably. She must have fallen asleep the instant he’d lifted her. A sharp twinge of resentment ran through her. “You were cruel—”
“For bringing you?”
“For making me go on.”
“That was cruel? You do not know the meaning of this word,” he said gruffly.
“I fear you will teach me.”
He turned onto his side facing her. Even in the blackness she felt the force of his personality. “Because I made you walk? Has no one made you walk, made you work?”
“Not like you did,” she said through chattering teeth.
“I tended your knee, fed you, carried you. Was I to leave you along the trail?”
“Someone would have found me.”
“Or another war party. If hunger and cold did not kill you first. You would perish out here.”
“Maybe so,” she argued. “But you were still harsh.”
He made an impatient sound under his breath. “If I warm you, will you say I am harsh?”
A startled gasp escaped her as he pulled her against his chest, molding her to him. She had the sense of his hard thighs and long legs pressed along hers. His scent enveloped her, a blend of earth, trees, and wind mingled with his own unique essence. “Do you suffer now?” he whispered.
All protest died on her lips. She was too stunned to speak. The heat from his solid warmth penetrated the cloth between them, easing her chill. Yet this new awareness of his strong body lying next to hers was stirring in a way she’d never experienced. Only her father and brother had ever held her, and never like this. Nor had their embrace evoked any of the odd quivers fluttering inside her now.~