Coffee Pot Book Tour: Michael L. Ross / Across the Great Divide The Search
The Details:
The Author:
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The Blurb:
Where do you go when home is no longer an option?
The guns of the Civil War have ceased firing, and the shots are but an echo... yet the war rages on, deep inside Will Crump's soul. His "soldier's heart" is searching for peace, and in that quest Will joins the westward movement, setting his path on a collision course with adventure, loss, and love.
The Westward Expansion floods the sacred, untouched lands with immigrants, bringing conflict to the Shoshone, Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho. Amidst the chaos Will finds safety in the shadow of the US Army, but the army brings battle-hardened troops into Red Cloud's War, pulling Will into a tornado of conflict. Broken treaties and promises leave both sides searching for answers. Will's search leads him to a battle for survival, and there he finds a love that could change him forever.
Dove, a young Shoshone woman, is a survivor of the Bear Creek Massacre. After being kidnapped and escaping from the Cheyenne, she joins Will's search, seeking where she belongs. Dove longs for more than the restricted role placed on women in her tribe. If she can learn to trust a white man, he just might help her find home... and hope.
Together, Will and Dove must search for understanding, and reach Across the Great Divide.
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The Excerpt:
Will aimed and
fired. It wasn’t the most accurate shot, but the brave dropped, and the others
sprang to their feet, looking both for their captive and their assailant. Will
didn’t hesitate long. Using the firelight and a sudden break in the clouds, he
levered another round and aimed. A second brave’s head exploded, blood going
everywhere. The third ran behind a rock. He couldn’t see Will to fire back.
Just as the clouds covered the moon again, he saw the last captor making his
way from rock to rock, down the slope to where Dove lay. Soon he’d be out of
range, and there would be no clear shot. By the time he moved down there, it
would likely be too late.
He prayed the
Psalm, “Praise be to the Lord my rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers
for battle.” Will waited for the warrior to pop into the open again. He had one
shot, one chance. Will moderated his breathing, just like at the contest at
Fort Laramie, and willed himself to be calm. There he was! Will squeezed the
trigger, not jerking despite his haste. The Indian’s chest opened, and he fell
backward. Will waited, five seconds, ten seconds, but there was no more
movement.
He stood,
leaning on the rifle. He hoped the sound of the shots would not draw other
hostiles. He hobbled down to Dusty, untied Lightning, and then found another
rock to use as a mounting block after sheathing the rifle. Winding his way
down, mindful of rocks and looking for other dangers, he rode to the bottom of
the embankment beside the gully
There was Dove,
bound and lying very still. There was a gash on her head and a bruise on her
cheek.
Will dismounted,
tied Dusty, and knelt over Dove. He touched her neck and felt a pulse. She was
alive. She was breathing. He pulled out his knife and cut the thongs at her
hands and ankles. What to do? He couldn’t carry her. He couldn’t even drag her.
He had to get her to the fire and warm both of them. He breathed a prayer and
then tried waving the whiskey in front of her nose, putting a drop on her lips.
She responded, licking her lips, opening her eyes, and coughing.
“Dove, are you
all right?”
She looked
panicked, moving her head side to side, as though to see where she was. There
was no recognition in her eyes, only fear.
He moved his
hand toward her, and she tried to block him. She mumbled in Shoshone, but he
didn’t understand. It was like she didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize
him.
After a few
minutes, she rolled over and pushed herself up to a kneeling position, facing
him. She saw the horse, looked up and saw the dead Sioux that had chased her,
and then back at Will. Standing, she looked puzzled, as if she were
concentrating.
“Will?”
Relief flooded
through him. He moved toward Dove, arms open, hopping to avoid weight on his
ankle as she stood. “Dove! I thought I’d lost you.”
“Head hurts
bad.”
She almost
knocked him over as she fell into his arms.
“You came for
me.”
“Always.”
She looked up at
him, eyes searching, lips parted. He hesitated, then slowly brought his lips to
hers, seeking. His heart filled with love, and then, sensing acceptance, he
kissed harder, more intensely, their lips clinging together. All he could think
of was how wonderful she felt, how glad he was that she was safe, how much he
loved her. He felt her tremble under his touch until they parted, breathless.
Check out my bookshelf of fantastic historical fiction and nonfiction, including Michael's books filed under US history!
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