White Wind

by Susan Edwards

  White Wind

  By Susan Edwards

  Missouri Territory, 1828

  Alone in the world since the death of the man who raised her, Sarah Cartier is forced to flee her home to escape her abusive guardian. No sooner does she ride off into the untamed wilderness than she is swept away by Golden Eagle, the Sioux brave who saved her life once before. Insisting that Sarah belongs to him, Golden Eagle brings her to his village to learn the ways of his people. Her fantasies becoming reality, Sarah is a willing captive—but she fears the danger she'll bring when her guardian finds her.

  The blue-eyed beauty has haunted his dreams ever since their first encounter. Now Golden Eagle is determined to claim her as his own. As future chief, Golden Eagle is betrothed to the daughter of another tribe. Consumed by passion for Sarah, he knows he will be forced to choose between love and duty…

  Book 4 of 12.

  Previously published.

  114,000 words

  Dear Readers,

  I am so excited to see my White Series available in digital format and once again available to you, my readers. This series is so close to my heart—each character became my brother, sister, best friend, etc., and to see them republished makes it seem like a long-awaited family reunion. I can’t wait to become reacquainted with each character! Even the villains, for there is nothing like seeing justice served.

  I started the first book, White Wind, way back in the ’80s. These two characters just popped into my head one day. I met them at a stream in the wilderness where my honorable (and very virile) hero, Golden Eagle, was determined to rescue a very stubborn heroine named Sarah. It just seemed as though the action stopped as they turned to me and said, “Well? What now?”

  Huh? Did they think I was a writer? Not me. Never did any writing at all and had never had any desire to do so. Well, Sarah and Golden Eagle just shook their heads and let me know that despite never having written before, it didn’t matter because I was a storyteller! A vivid imagination, a love of romance and the Native American historical genre were all that were required. Okay, not quite but I got the message.

  So I thought, why not? I could write a nice scene or two. Or three. Hey, how about even just a love scene in this wonderful setting that I could see so clearly in my mind? But then I ran into the first problem. What had brought my two willful characters to this stream at the same time? What connected them? Why would this mighty warrior want to claim this white girl? What made him fall in love with her and risk everything for her?

  I found that I couldn’t go on until I had answers and that meant, yep, I had to start at the beginning. I learned who they were, what their problems were, and when we once again met at that stream in the wilderness, I just sat back and gave directions, and this time, my characters knew their lines and away we went!

  And that, dear readers, was how my writing career began. Once I started, I could not stop. I loved writing about this family. Sarah and Golden Eagle had four children and it just seemed natural to continue the series. I had so many letters begging and, yes, even demanding Jeremy and White Dove’s story in White Dove. And honestly, I was right there with each and every reader, for that was one story that just called to me. So from two people, who met by chance, eleven books were born.

  Over the years, I valued each and every reader comment: from the mother who read the books to her dying daughter, to the lonely women who found companionship, and to women who appreciated the bravery and willingness of the heroines and heroes to do whatever it took to overcome adversity.

  Each of the White books has a story that means something to me. Jessie in White Wolf is a lot like I was in my youth. I couldn’t accept “no” back then without a good reason, always looking for a chance to rebel . I could go on and on but then I’d be writing a book instead of a letter!

  Just writing this letter makes me all teary and homesick, but just as these books will be available once more to my readers, I will become reacquainted with each book and each character. Thinking of reunions, I might just have to plan a White reunion! But for now, I am just so grateful to Carina Press and my editor, Angela James, for once again making this series available.

  Sincerely yours,

  Susan Edwards

  This book is dedicated to a young writer I’m very proud of, my daughter Deanna. And my husband Lynn and son Brandon, who are the warriors in the family. Without your love, support, sacrifices and understanding, my dream of becoming a writer would not have come true.

  Friends are the world’s treasures. Thanks, Esther, Leslie and Cindy, for all the wonderful get-togethers—yesterday, today and tomorrow.

  A special from-the-bottom-of-my-heart thank-you to Carole Davis, teacher and listener extraordinaire, for her many words of encouragement. Without you, the Wednesday Writers’ Society would not exist. And to the members of the WWS past and present, I deeply appreciate your time and invaluable input along with the humor that makes each Wednesday a bright spot in my week.

  The Golden Eagle

  The Golden Eagle,

  perched high on a mountain,

  lonely, barren, forsaken.

  Needing a friend,

  surrounded by vast emptiness,

  miserable, afraid, dispirited.

  Stretching great wings,

  lifting high into the air,

  searching, needing, calling.

  Behind white clouds,

  Wings grow still,

  his cries echo, tired, dejected, grieving.

  The wind answers,

  gently lifting the falling bird,

  comforting, protecting, guiding.

  Soaring high above,

  pillowed by wisps of white,

  content, loved, fulfilled.

  No longer alone,

  the eagle and the wind,

  companions, friends, lovers.

  —Susan Edwards

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Late summer, 1810

  The coyote’s howl broke the predawn stillness that had startled Emily awake moments ago. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. It was dark, the moon hidden behind a cover of gray clouds. Seeking warmth and reassurance, the terrified girl had turned to her companion.

  But he was gone, leaving only a
cold empty spot where she’d fallen asleep wrapped snugly in his arms. She rose to her knees and peered into the darkness.

  Suddenly a small ray of light broke through the blanket of clouds and she spotted a familiar figure moving farther into the gray shadows.

  “Wait!” she cried. Jumping to her feet, heedless of the rocks and branches stabbing the bare soles, she stumbled after the departing warrior.

  Emily grabbed his arm, dimly aware of the weapons slung across his shoulders and animal-skin pouches of personal items hanging from a throng around his waist.

  His nostrils flared with emotion. Eyes as brown as earth refused to meet her questioning gaze.

  She stepped close and found herself caught by strong muscular arms and held against his bronzed chest. She threw her arms around his neck and clung fiercely, her head burrowing under his chin.

  Rough hands covered hers, forcing her arms down to her sides. Strong hands traveled up her bare arms and feathered over her shoulders to frame her small oval face.

  Emily closed her eyes as his head lowered. His lips were firm and warm, yet she sensed his desperation as he gently led her back to the spot where they’d spent the night.

  She found herself sitting on a fallen pine tree watching the warrior bend over to pick up a water pouch made from the stomach lining of a buffalo and a bulging parfleche filled with meat, berries and greens. He held them out to her.

  Emily took the precious pouches that she’d refilled just yesterday and laid them in her lap, wondering why he was preparing to leave so early this day.

  He held out a wooden object. Reaching for it, Emily twisted sideways on the decaying log to let beams of moonlight fall on his offering.

  A thick piece of bark formed the top of the crudely carved box. Lifting it, she peered inside. Soft brown rabbit fur lined the interior. Curled on the silky fur lay a necklace.

  Emily lifted it out and held it up. She gasped at the beauty of the rabbit claws, feathers and even a prized eagle claw strung on a learner thong. She was honored. But as she turned, her cry of pleasure died. She scanned the area but she was alone.

  Looking at the gifts, one dangling from the tips of her fingers, the other resting on her palm, she knew she would not find him this time. He’d said goodbye.

  Tears slid from her watery blue eyes, spiking long blond lashes as they pooled and flowed in rivulets down smooth ivory skin.

  Her head moved slowly from side to side as she refused to believe her protector, friend and lover had disappeared behind nature’s wall of greenery.

  High overhead, the stillness was broken as birds chirped and fluttered, waking to greet the light of a new day.

  Emily heard none of it. She sat perfectly still. This couldn’t be happening! Hadn’t she suffered already? Hadn’t losing her family in that gruesome massacre been enough?

  A rustling from the bushes behind Emily caused her to jump off the log, the precious water pouch falling to the ground, creating a puddle at her feet. Her heart raced. She clutched his gift to her chest. Rounding the large green bush, she scanned the area, sure that he’d come back.

  Instead a doe, startled by her sudden presence, flicked her white tail and bounded into the concealing darkness of the woods.

  Emily stood still, shoulders slumping in despair, unsure of what to do or where to go. Drawn to the pile of gathered leaves topped with furs, mostly rabbit, she fell to her knees.

  The sharp sting of truth hit her. She had been abandoned. What had she done wrong? Had she displeased him? Why had he left? Panic overcame numbness and disbelief.

  Fingers with ragged nails covered trembling lips in an effort to choke the screams that rose from deep within and clawed at the back of her throat for release.

  “No!” Over and over she screamed, until her voice grew hoarse, refusing to believe that she was once again alone in a harsh, untamed land.

  Chapter One

  Missouri Territory, 1828

  The bright golden sun sent gentle waves of warmth to the land below. Spring would soon be in full bloom. It ruled the land, slowly replacing winter’s barren vegetation with the birth of tender green growth. Spring brought change and the renewal of life. It was nature’s promise that life continued, even when it seemed lifeless and hopeless. Nothing could stop it. Not even death.

  How symbolic of her life since Pa died, Sarah thought, staring from her loft wistfully. Her eyes shut out the early-morning scene as a single tear escaped. Shuddering, she wondered if life would ever be fresh and sweet for her again.

  “Oh, Pa, why?” Sarah sobbed, looking toward a small plot of land bearing three carved burial markers. Only the wind answered as a blast of frigid air swept into the room.

  Sarah closed the shutters, resting her forehead against the rough wood and drew a deep breath. Tears wouldn’t wash away her problems. And since her Pa’s death four months ago, her problems had only grown.

  Straightening her shoulders, she poured a small amount of water from a chipped pitcher into a wooden bowl and splashed her face. The shock of ice-cold water checked the flow of tears. Today’s tears weren’t for the death of a loved one. They were tears of self-pity and bitterness.

  Unconsciously, she sought comfort and courage from the golden chain that was always around her neck, a last birthday gift from Pa on her sixteenth birthday. Her fingers found two glass beads, one on each side of the heart-shaped locket that had belonged to her ma.

  Daydreams of the young warrior who had saved her life when she was but twelve beckoned, but Sarah resisted. Wishful thinking and daydreams would not help this time.

  Peering cautiously from the loft, Sarah saw only Mary busy at the age-worn table kneading bread dough. With a great sigh of relief, she left the safety of the loft and descended into the warm cozy room.

  Mary, dressed in a plaid shirt and men’s breeches, turned at the slight sound, her gnarled hands stopping the rhythmic kneading. She gathered the yeast-smelling dough and put it above the old stove to rise. Turning, she wiped flour-covered hands on an apron tied around her plump waist.

  Refreshing her cup of cooling coffee, Mary took the seat next to Sarah and cursed the fate that had left the child she loved as her own looking so pale and listless.

  She’d give anything to see the sparkle back in those downcast eyes and the tilt of that determined chin. More than anything, she missed that mischievous grin. The one that usually meant trouble!

  “Come now, Sarah,” Mary said encouragingly, breaking off a hunk of hot bread and holding it out to the silent girl. “Have some bread. He left early this morning. Ben sent him to check traps. Won’t be back till dark, I expect.”

  Staring blankly into space, Sarah dropped the bread that her fingers were shredding into a pile of crumbs on the table. Her voice was taut with months of suppressed emotions as she buried her head in her hands and moaned.

  “Oh, Mary, why did Pa do it? We don’t need Willy here. He’s caused nothing but trouble for all of us,” she hoarsely whispered.

  Mary slipped her arm around the thin hunched shoulders and fingered blond curls as she sought the words that would explain John’s motives.

  “There aren’t many women out here, and I know your pa worried about the soldiers from the fort posing a threat to you. They respected and even feared John— Mountain Man John, as he was known to most. By making your guardian a member of his family, he was offering protection.”

  Sarah’s head snapped up as she pushed her chair from the table and started pacing. “Protection! Mary, I have you and your husband, Ben, to protect me. You’ve been the only mother I’ve ever really known. You and Ben are my family, not some distant cousin I’d never even heard of before!” Sarah declared, her boot-clad feet pounding the wooden floorboards. Her voice turned harsh as she flung out a hand. “Ben can protect and provide for me a lot better than that weak lazy Willy.”

  Both were large imposing men, but Ben had the build and stamina that a trapper developed from a lifetime of living off the land, wher
eas Willy’s body had turned soft from preying on what others provided.

  “Thinking of me indeed.” Sarah laughed bitterly. “I need Pa’s horrible cousin Willy like I need…fire in a hayloft!”

  Mary frowned and narrowed her eyes in displeasure, ready to defend her longtime friend. “Now you listen to me, Sarah. Your pa thought he was doing what was best for you. He rested easy in those last days after his long-lost cousin arrived unexpectedly.”

  What Mary didn’t say was that she agreed with Sarah. Willy was useless, and a meaner-looking man she’d yet to meet. There weren’t many men out here willing to tangle with him, and she suspected that was one of the reasons John chose Willy as Sarah’s guardian rather then Ben.

  Mary stood before the angry girl. “Do you honestly think your pa would have made Willy your guardian if he’d known what kind of man he was?”

  Sarah lowered her head in shame, but Mary continued. “Remember, Willy convinced your pa that, as a relative, he was the only choice for a guardian. He promised he’d look after you and would even choose a good husband for you. What was your pa to say?”

  Sarah raised tear-filled eyes and threw her arms around the motherly woman’s neck. “I’m sorry, Mary. I know Pa was trying to help make my life easier, but it hasn’t worked out like that.” Tears fell as she asked, “What am I going to do? I can’t stand much more of this.”