Good Morning!
So far we've made it nearly half-way through Hurricane season without a lot to fear but this coming week may just be the end of what little peace we had. TWO storms, Lord, really?!
Alas, the spotlight must go on....
Today's guest is no stranger to our blog although it has been a while since she has been in our spotlight and shared thoughts & treasures with us so please welcome Angela Couch back with her brand new release, Heart of a Warrior...
All Christina Astle wants is to reach Oregon before her baby is born, but the wagon train is attacked, and her husband killed, stranding her in a mountain labyrinth. Raised in the East, within civilization's embrace, survival is not a skill she's learned. Neither is evading the lone warrior dogging her trail.
Disgusted by the greed and cruelty of men like his white father, Towan has turned to the simpler existence of his mother's tribal people. He is not prepared for the fiery woman who threatens to upturn his entire life ... and his heart.
Autumn 1859
Eyes clamped shut against the subsiding ache in her abdomen, Christina Astle
sucked in cool mountain air. Pine saturated the breath and constricted her
lungs like the corsets she’d happily given up only months earlier. Her hand
stole across her extended stomach. What had she been thinking, agreeing to
follow Anthony away from society, safety, and a house with four walls? What if
they didn’t make it to Oregon in time? She refused to give birth with nothing
but canvas overhead.
The wagon wheel dropped into another rut, and a gasp escaped her, drawing her
husband’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I wish I could go slower, but we’re at least a mile
behind them.” He glanced at the sun hovering above, then slipped the gold watch
from his breast pocket and flipped it open. “It’s after three already.”
“I know…and I am fine.” Christina raised her chin a degree but refused to look
at him and his perpetually concern-laden eyes. Anthony did everything within
his power to keep her comfortable, stopping often, even when it meant trailing
behind the rest of the wagon train. As long as they caught up by nightfall.
Still, heat rose in her chest. They should have waited another year, or—better
yet—never left Cincinnati in the first place.
The crack of a discharging rifle pierced the valley and deepened into echo.
Then a scream, soft and haunting. More gun fire followed, ricocheting off the
high mountain ridges.
The wagon lurched to a halt, and Christina grabbed for the seat. She stared
ahead at the empty trail scarred with evidence of those who led the way.
Horses. Cattle. Families with children. God, no!
The wagon jerked and rocked off the trail, reins slapping the backs of the
mules.
Christina dug her fingertips into the raw wood. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking it away from the trail. I’m not leaving you sitting in plain
sight.”
“Leaving me? You can’t. We don’t know what’s going on.” Her head spun. “No,
Anthony. Not with these mountains full of savages. Don’t you dare leave me
here.”
The wagon tipped slightly then righted, dropped over the slope, and rolled into
an aspen grove. White bark glimmered in the bright sun, and young saplings
sprang back into place as the wheels passed over.
“There’s only one way to find out what’s happening. If they’re being attacked,
they’ll need help.” Anthony lunged to the ground and unharnessed the mules,
fastening them farther out of the way. All except the one trained to ride.
Anthony left him near the wagon, heaving a saddle over his withers and forcing
a heavy bit into his mouth.
Christina remained paralyzed on the seat. “Anthony…no. Don’t go.”
He said nothing as he loaded his revolver and strapped it to his thigh. With
the Winchester tucked under his arm, he swung onto the back of the animal and
twisted the reins through his fingers. “You’ll be safe here. Most likely it’s
nothing.” He looked away, giving the mule an angry kick. The animal balked but
lurched to a trot toward the trail.
“Anthony!”
He rotated in the saddle enough to meet her gaze and yanked back on the bit.
His brown eyes studied her face, and his chest released a sigh. “Chris, I have
to go. You know where the other rifle is, and the shells are under the seat if
you have any need of them. I’ll be back soon.”
Christina sagged against the back of the wagon seat. The edge bit her spine.
Hooves scraped the loose rock of mountain trail and faded with the distant gun
fire.
6 comments:
Thanks for sharing and best wishes with your books D. V.🦉
Thank you!
I'm reading this right now and I can't put it down! Love, love, love this book! I didn't think I could love one of her books more than The Scarlet Coat but now...
Nothing better than historical fiction! Best wishes for your success.
I enjoyed the excerpt! Sounds like an exciting tale!
I'm going to love this. Christina sounds like a strong woman - fabulous.
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