This week, we're welcoming author Terry Irene Blain, whose novel KENTUCKY GREEN is set in the 18th century and takes readers into the wilds of the Kentucky Territory. Join us on Sunday, when the author will offer a free copy of the book to a lucky blog visitor. Here's the blurb:
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The young widow was beautiful and determined, but the months of travel
involved in her plan would be too hard. Without the general’s order Dan would
have told any woman no, but April especially. His secret would destroy her—or
she might destroy him. April’s kiss was like the country itself. Restless and
sweet, it promised a love that denied every boundary and looked only to freedom
and the future.
**An Excerpt from Kentucky Green**
The next afternoon the wagon train approached the Susquehanna
River at Wright’s Ferry. Along the river bank near the ferry teams and wagons
milled about. Shouting drivers and nervous animals added to the din. From her
seat next to Tucker, April saw McKenzie make his way to the ferrymaster. The
men talked, nodded, then shook hands. McKenzie walked back along the line of
their wagons giving commands and instructions, bringing order in the midst of
the confusion.
The man certainly had the gift of leadership, April noted as
he approached the lead wagon. He jumped up, balancing on the hub of the front
wheel, and spoke to Tucker. “You’ll cross on the first trip. Once you reach the
other side, go about a mile and a half down the road. You’ll see a stand of box
elders to the right. Start making camp there. The rest of the wagons will be
along in time for supper.”
Excitement seemed to hover in the air. “What can I do to
help?” she asked eagerly, looking past Tucker to the dark frontiersman.
He glanced in her direction. “Stay out of the way.” Without
another word, he jumped down from the wheel and strode off.
April blinked back the tingle behind her eyes. Even though
he was probably right, his tone still hurt. She had proven her worth on this
trip. Both Tucker and Scotty had said so. Why did the dismissal of someone who
went out of his way to overlook her hurt?
An hour later, she stood on the deck of the gently swaying
ferry. At the last minute, Scotty volunteered to remain behind to direct the
departures and Mr. McKenzie and his mare joined the lead wagon to take charge
on the opposite side. He talked to Tucker while they calmed the team of
skittish horses.
After the commotion at the landing, she enjoyed the contrast
of the cool, quiet river. The gentle lap-lap of the river interplayed with the
creaks and groans of timbers and ropes as the ferry made its way across the
Susquehanna. Holding the rail and with feet apart to keep her balance, she swayed
in time with the sounds.
She spied two boys in a clearing on the opposite shore. She
continued to watch as she heard the soft sounds of Mr. McKenzie’s moccasins on
the planking as he came to stand beside her.
Unable to resist the temptation, she asked “Am I in the way
here, Mr. McKenzie?” She glanced sideways at him.
“No, you’re not in the way.”
Amused that a more overt apology seemed unlikely, she said,
“We seem to be making good time.”
He merely nodded. She turned to see where he looked with so
much concentration, and found him watching the same clearing she’d noted
earlier. “What do you see?” she asked.
“A young buck coming down to the river.”
Following his gaze she saw a deer emerge from the woods and
walk with dainty steps along the edge of the clearing to the riverbank. The
deer stood for a moment, then lowered its antlered head to drink.
“There were boys in the clearing earlier,” she remarked.
“Still there,” Dan said, pointing to the other edge of the
clearing.
She searched the area, finally spying the boys hidden from
the deer’s sight on the far side of the clearing. One boy raised a rifle.
Suddenly the deer bolted. The rifle belched a puff of smoke
and a second later the sharp crack echoed across the water. Beside her, Dan
snorted. The breeze blew the gun smoke over the meadow, thinning the dense
white puff to blue-gray streaks. That’s it. She turned to look into the blue-gray
eyes of the man standing beside her.
“Your eyes are the color of gun smoke,” she blurted.
His head jerked and a startled look flashed across his face.
Appalled she’d said something so personal, she started to stammer an apology.
He waved her words away. “I’ve been told that before.” With
a shrug, he excused himself, leaving her to wonder if she had or had not
offended him.
Dan walked back to join Tucker. Unconsciously his hand
rubbed the front of his shirt, feeling underneath the buckskin the beaded medallion
he always wore. She’d seen why the Shawnee named him Man With Eyes Like Gun
Smoke, even though she didn’t know. He made no secret of his heritage, and
eventually she’d find out. Being a breed was like being a bastard—neither
characteristic likely to come up in polite conversation, but the fact would
always come out.
When it did, with her reason to fear and hate Indians, he’d
see those emotions reflected in her eyes every time she looked at him. He
wasn’t in any hurry for that.
Realizing his palm still rubbed the medallion under his
shirt, he swore and dropped his arm. He’d only wanted to apologize to April, to
take away the hurt look in her eyes when he’d snapped at her earlier.
Instead she’d reminded him why he’d been keeping his
distance. He couldn’t have her, but it didn’t stop him from wanting her. And he
wasn’t in any hurry to see the light in her eyes die when she did find out.
