UNCOMPAHGRE – Front Inside Cover
Reuben stood lazily, his Navy Colt in one hand, gunpowder smoke still rising several feet above the muzzle. One of the other men moved and there was the distinctive hammer-click of Johannes’ Sharps, which he had raised to his shoulder. Reuben’s jaw clenched. He grimly cocked the hammer of the Colt. “I don’t push, mister. You got exactly two seconds.”
The sun hung suspended behind dark, silhouetted mountains, the thin layers of softly glowing clouds laced with silver and bold strokes of fiery orange-red. A deepening purple sifted down from the highest peaks and curled around the foothills, spreading like a fog of color across the rolling plains. Transfixed by the sheer power of the scene, Sarah felt tiny and insignificant yet empowered at the same time. So many choices.
Eagle Talon raised the bow to the ready, its long alder body held with an almost rigid left arm diagonally in front of his chest. The mustang took two more careful steps. Suddenly, Eagle Talon caught a movement from the left corner of his eye. His pulse raced. The battle with the Pawnee was still fresh in his memory and he was high strung by the events of the last two suns. He brought the bow to full draw instinctively, without thought, sighting down the arrow shaft.
She was standing just inches away, her brown eyes wide, teary, looking up into his, full of sorrow and something else he couldn’t quite fathom. The blanket fell from her shoulders. She wore nothing but a sheer silk chemise, almost transparent, every curve of her lithe young body glowing in the low light. His voice was stilled as she raised her other hand to his mouth, touching his lips with the tips of her fingers. “Don’t talk. Not a word.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his breeches.
“Easy, Chile, you rest easy now. This wet cloth will take that fever from your head.” Lucy rested the dark, aged skin of her gnarled hands on the mound of belly housing the baby struggling for birth, and cast a worried glance at Israel. There was a long agonized groan from the bed.
THREADS WEST, AN AMERICAN SAGA SERIES
BY
REID LANCE ROSENTHAL
BOOK ONE-THREADS WEST
“The book is riveting and the storyline captivating. I didn’t want to put the book down once I was started. I have never read romance or western novels and I thought this read would be a stretch for me but as I got into the story I immediately became engaged and found myself immersed in each word Fas the tale, the characters and their lives unfolded.”
—Karen Mayfield, Msc.CC
National bestselling author of Wake Up Women—
Be Happy, Healthy & Wealthy and co-creator of the Wake Up Women book series.
“Diverse characters…highly visual prose…a journey of gathering suspense…delicious and devastating results. Rosenthal delivers!”
—Josephine Ellershaw
#1 International Bestselling Author
*****
ROCKIN' SR PUBLISHING
WRITING DREAM, LLC
Cheyenne, Wyoming
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2014 Reid Lance Rosenthal
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright 2010–2013 Writing Dream LLC
http://www.threadswestseries.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Writing Dream LLC Copyright 2013
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Book Design by TLC Graphics, www.tlcgraphics.com
Cover by Tamara Dever; Interior by Erin Stark
Proofreading July 2013 reprint by WordSharp.net
Photo credits:
train: ©iStockphoto.com/fredrikarnell
train for smoke: 2010 Eric Simard. Image from Bigstock.com
woman: ©iStockphoto.com/duncan1890
London: ©iStockphoto.com/duncan1890
flag: ©iStockphoto.com/Blueberries
leather: ©iStockphoto.com/colevineyard
leather tooling: ©iStockphoto.com/belterz
scrolled leather: ©iStockphoto.com/billnoll
parchment paper: ©iStockphoto.com/ranplett
To my mother June, who, among many gifts, passed on to me a love of, and talent for, writing. To my editor Page Lambert, who taught me just how much I did not know about the wonderful craft of prose. To Jordan Allhands, whose unsurpassed computer and web design skills makes access to this series possible for so many. To Laura Kennedy, tireless Publisher’s Assistant and master of all trades. To the characters—my friends—who live in these pages. And, to America, her values, history, people and the mystical energy and magical empowerment that flow from her lands.
*****
Threads West, An American Saga – Book 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
DEDICATION
INSIDE FRONT COVER
AUTHOR BIO
CHAPTER ONE: Zeb
CHAPTER TWO: Reuben
CHAPTER THREE: Cherry Creek
CHAPTER FOUR: Inga
CHAPTER FIVE: Rebecca
CHAPTER SIX: Johannes
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Winds of Fate
CHAPTER EIGHT: Jacob
CHAPTER NINE: The SS Edinburgh
CHAPTER TEN: Foretold
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Princess in Portsmouth
CHAPTER TWELVE: Sarah
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: On the High Seas
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Redhead
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: America
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Castle Garden
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Mayor’s Carriage
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Uncle Hermann
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Gracie Mansion
CHAPTER TWENTY: Common Ground
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Seduction
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Handle of Pearl
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Lunch in the City
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Map
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Beguiled
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Threads West
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: The Train
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: At First Sight
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Secrets
CHAPTER THIRTY: Aunt Stella’s Shop
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: A Difference of Opinion
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Reunion
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: The Baggage Car
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: Encounter
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: The Decision
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: Dangers Ahead
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: Innocence Stolen
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: Metamorphosis
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: St. Louis
CHAPTER FORTY: Untold
C
HAPTER FORTY-ONE: Money for the Journey
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: Mac
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: Comeuppance
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: Preparations
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: Westward
READER’S COMMENTS
BOOK AWARDS
BACK COVER
OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES
SHOP THREADS WEST EXPRESS
Maps of Fate – Book Two
Preview
SURPRISED
REVELATION
PROPHECY
RENEGADE
STRENGTH OF CONVICTION
SPIRIT WHISPERS
Threads West, An American Saga
Book One
This is the first novel of the Maps of Fate era, (1854–1875)
of the
Threads West, An American Saga series,
the story of America, set in the west.
INTRODUCTION
to the Maps of Fate Era Novels of the Series
The year is 1854. America is on the cusp of her great westward expansion and the threshold of reluctantly becoming a world power. The lure of the vast territories and resources beyond the Mississippi catapults the population of St. Louis, gateway to the frontier, to almost one hundred thousand, an eight-fold expansion from just a decade prior.
One thousand miles to the west rises the Rocky Mountains, the lawless, untamed spine of the continent. The power of their jagged peaks beckons the vanguard of generations—the souls of a few adventurous men and women of many cultures and separate origins, to love and struggle in the beautifully vibrant but unforgiving landscape of the West.
America’s promise of land, freedom, self-determination and economic opportunity was now known worldwide. Immigrants from many continents exchange the lives they know for the hope and romance of a country embarked on the course of greatness.
These individuals, drawn from the corners of the earth by the promise of land, freedom, self-determination and economic opportunity, are unaware of the momentous changes that will shape the United States in the tumultuous years between 1854 and 1875, sweeping them into the vortexes of agony and ecstasy, victory and defeat, love lost and acquired.
The personal conflicts inherent to these brave, passion-filled characters—the point of the spear of the coming massive westward migration—are spurred by land, gold, the conquest of Mexican territory by the United States, railroads and telegraphs. Their relationships and ambitions are tempered by the fires of love and loss, hope and sorrow, life and death. Their personalities are shaped by dangerous journeys from far-off continents and then across a wild land to a wilderness in which potential is the only known reality.
They begin to build a nation whose essence is in transition, their lives shaken by events and convergences with other souls they could not foresee. An elderly black couple sets their life sails for winds of freedom. An Oglala Sioux family struggles to cope with the foreshadow of lands and culture forever changed. Mormons stream west in the Great Exodus escaping persecution, and searching for Zion. An outlaw vaquero of royal origin from south of the border quests for a sense of self and place and a black-hearted renegade is unknowingly catapulted by his tortured past into possible redemption.
The budding enmity between North and South flares in the winds of war, and the remote fringe of the frontier falls into virtual anarchy as most of the meager army troops are withdrawn to the East. On the Front Range of the Rockies, Cherry Creek has been renamed Denver as the city booms with the effect of gold discoveries in the Pikes Peak area and the Ouray, San Juan and Uncompahgre Mountain ranges. The first newspaper in the West rolls off the presses in Leavenworth and Lawrence, Kansas, and Platte Valley, Nebraska. A Confederate Army mustered in Texas is repulsed by the Denver Militia. Soon, railroads and telegraphs will pierce this wild land. The broken treaties with Native Americans spread into bitter and contagious conflict throughout the West. The “resolution” of the “Indian problem” leaves families and hearts broken, and a dark stain on the pages of American history.
You will recognize the characters that live in these pages. They are your neighbors, your family, your co-workers. They are you and they are us; the threads of many lives—both men and women—from different locations, ancestry, social and financial backgrounds, faiths and beliefs. They are personalities forged on the anvil of the land, woven together by fate and history, and bound by the commonality of the American spirit into the tapestry that is our nation.
The personal conflicts inherent to these brave, passion-filled characters are exacerbated by a country in transition and the accelerating melting pot of diverse cultures that marks this magical moment in American History.
You will recognize the characters who live in these pages.
They are you. They are us.
This is not only their story. It is our story.
The adventure and romance of America, her people, her spirit, and the West.
It is Threads West, An American Saga.
http://www.threadswestseries.com/
*****
CHAPTER 1
May 3, 1854
ZEB
Three hundred miles southwest of the undulating expanse of the Great Plains and the tiny settlement of Cherry Creek, a small creek rushed and gurgled, feeding a series of beaver ponds along the edge of a large grove of aspens, alders and willows. The glitters of the water sifting through the pond’s edge of willows and alders formed points of bright light where they reflected off the white bark of quaking aspen saplings surrounding Zeb and the stock. Overhead, puffy patches of clouds flitted across the face of the sun scuttling in hurried billows through a deep blue sky to some unknown rendezvous to the east.
The sleek, mottled brown and white silhouettes of the mustang, its thin buckskin-clad rider and the stocky, gray forms of the pack mules strung behind the horse were motionless, almost invisible deep in the heart of the patch of quaking aspen. A .52 caliber breech loading Sharps rifle lay across the rider’s thighs, cradled between his belt and the saddle horn. Diffused light filtered through the needles of the few conifers interspersed with the ghostly leafless branches of the aspen trees and added to the camouflage of the little band.
Zebarriah Taylor or Zeb, as he preferred to be called, sat erect, perfectly still and keenly observant. One weathered hand slowly stroking a long strand of his thick, unkempt mustache where it tapered off into the graying stubble just above his chin, his eyes probing in every direction as he listened intently. Quiet. A bit too quiet. Slowly craning his neck, he looked back at the three pack mules, each of them burdened with a large bundle of pelts balanced and cinched between the wooden crossbars of the pack saddle frames. Shiny layers of fur protruded on all edges from under the oiled leathers lashed with rawhide over the top of each mound as a protective tarp. The mules stood complacently, though their ears were up. The attention of the mustang was pricked also, and the horse stood like a statue, nose pointed toward the riffled sparkles that bounced off the surface of the several beaver ponds.
Zeb checked the cartridge in the Sharps and then pulled each of the brace of cap and ball pistols from his waistband; tucking them back when he was satisfied they, too, were ready. Leaning far to his left, he pulled the .58 caliber Enfield musket from its belly scabbard, eyeing the flash pan. He left it partially unsheathed, just in case. A split second could be life or death. He carefully swung his left leg over the saddle horn and the horse’s neck until he was sidesaddle. Patting the horse’s shoulder, he spoke in a whisper, “Easy, Buck, last two traps of the spring season. We made it through the winter—no sense getting’ kilt now.”
Slipping off the saddle, he landed lightly on the silent carpet of fallen leaves, brown from the previous autumn and damp from the winter’s snowpack. There were still patches of old snow where shade had lingered. Alternating spring-day sun and frozen nights had solidified the once white flakes into little kernels, like frozen corn. This time of year, the warming of each day created a wet film of melted lubricant between th
e pebbles of ice, and these remnants of a stubborn winter were especially treacherous.
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