Thursday, November 1, 2012

Buy it now . . . or after you read the sample.

Due to popular demand, Medicine Man I: The Chief of All Time is now available in Ebook format! 

You can get it from WCPAmazon, or B&N

Today's post is an excerpt from the Novel, enjoy! Like my author's page on Facebook, and get in on a contest to win an autographed copy of the print book Thanksgiving week!

She stood up, undid her jeans, and started lowering them as if I were not staring at her like some lusty teenager. I fled the room and shut the door on her seductive form. I stood in the hallway, leaned against the wall with my eyes shut, and tried to still the passion she invoked in me. I knew she didn’t wear a bra; the absent top buttons on her shirt made it obvious. She also didn’t wear any underwear. Not unless they were much lower on her hips than her partly lowered jeans. In all my adult life, I had never felt like this before.

“You could have her. Take her,” the elk-man’s voice echoed.

“You’ve been too long without a wife,” my grandfather said.

“Leave me alone,” I said, as much to the elk-man voice as to my grandfather.

“You have been too long without a wife,” my grandfather repeated.  
“Even I remember what it was like to be that ready for a woman.”

I tried to yank my shirt down farther before I opened my eyes to tell him to mind his own business. I got a good view of his back as he went into the guest room. The door shut with a firm thump. The sound of the lock turning made me shake my head.

My grandfather was at his exasperating best. Later, he would wander out of there to raid the refrigerator for whatever he could find. I went into the kitchen and put the teakettle on the stove. The burner lit with a faint whoosh, and I experienced a flash of the medicine dances I’d attended in my youth. The tribal medicine man would throw fine sulfur dust into the fire to make it do the same thing. A grand show, as was everything medicine men did. None of their tricks had worked for my father.

My father, being a firm believer in the old ways, would’nt seek out modern medicine past the point of being told he had terminal cancer. He wouldn’t even consider modern healing mixed with the old beliefs. My own mother turned her back on me after he died.

The teapot shrilled, and Morning Dove’s voice came from the doorway. “I am very tired.”

I took a mug from the shelf above the sink. From a different cupboard, I took down the box of nighttime tea I kept there. I added water and tea to the mug and watched the steam for a moment, before I held it out to her.

“It will help you sleep,” I said when she just looked at the cup.

“I have had enough white-man’s medicines put into me already.” Her eyes flashed with what I took for humor.

“This is a mixture of natural herbs, no preservatives, no artificial colorings, no caffeine. . . ”

With a smile, she took the cup. Her fingers brushed against mine, sending an electric chill along my nerves. I led the way to my study and turned on the gas fireplace. Morning Dove went to the thick sheepskin rug in front of it and sat down. While she sipped the tea, I went to the closet and retrieved a pillow and some blankets. I paused with them in hand to watch her. She sat in the terry robe and held the mug in both hands. She took a small sip and stared into the fire.

Her hair hung down over the robes back in a glimmering wet curtain. One corner of the robe slipped down to reveal her shoulder. I wanted to sink to the floor and wrap myself around her. With a grunt, I pulled myself away from thoughts of intimacy with her. I covered the couch with a sheet and punched the pillow a few times--to fluff it.

The gate buzzer sounded loudly in the silent room. What nut would be out on a night like this unless they had to be? I pulled the door to the study shut and went to answer the gate intercom.

No one answered. When I turned away from it, thinking the storm had made it go off, it buzzed again. Loud and insistent. I jabbed the button.
“Who’s there?”

I heard nothing in return except the thunder rumbling overhead. I pulled open the front door. Down the drive, through the sheets of rain, it looked like a set of round headlights on the other side of the gate. My brother’s Jeep?

I reached back inside and pushed the button to open the gate.
Lightening cracked so bright I couldn’t see for a moment. I blinked back the brightness, tried to blink it away again.

It didn’t help. The deer filling my driveway didn’t go away. They ran past the house in a steady stream, an entire herd. Where had they come from? The drums sounded behind me.

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