Tag Archives: short native American romance online

Got Time For A Short Story?–Beth Trissel


“The Lady and The Warrior is a very short story that is a pleasure to read. Beth Trissel transports us into a special world with her descriptions, well-rounded characters and delightful writing.” ~Amazon Reviewer Reader Forever

ExcerptMay, 1783, the Virginia Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains

That terrified cry came from the stream.  Zane didn’t have much time to reach her.  And he was so close!

He slid the musket strap from his shoulder.  Grasping the long firearm, he raced over the misty path.  Like a buck taking flight, he dodged stones and sprang over fallen limbs.  He skirted an enormous downed trunk capped with toadstools.  Shouldering the musket again, he pushed through the underbrush.

Branches snagged his brown hunting shirt.  Briars snatched at his leather breeches and wool leggings.  He tore free.  A tangle of vines lay between him and the woman.  Taking the tomahawk slung at his side, he chopped his way through.  Chest pounding, he arrived at the engorged stream.

With eyes honed to detect the barest hint of man or beast, he scanned the swift current.  Woodland debris bobbed in the brown flood.  No woman.  She must be farther downstream.

He sprinted along the edge of the bank.  Whoever this unfortunate female was, she was about to drown.  Even without knowing her, it goaded him.  And the urge to save her swelled inside like the muddy water overflowing its banks.

There!  Zane spotted the young woman clinging to a branch as the torrent did its damnedest to rip her away.

“Hold on!  I’m coming!”

Her head swiveled toward him, face white with fear and fatigue.

“Hold on!”

She managed the barest nod.

He laid his musket on the ground.   Wedging his moccasins against the stones and roots, he sidestepped down the slick earth.  Then reached out and grasped the branch she held to—testing its strength.  The wood was firm beneath his hand.

So far, so good.

He leaned over the swirling water.  Careful.  One misstep and they’d both be swept away to a watery grave.

Desperate eyes met his, the hue of summer leaves and marbled with brown like the forest.   Her fingers slipped.

Quick!   He snagged her shoulder, digging in his fingers so her cloak wouldn’t come away in his hand.  “I’ve got you!”

She clutched at him.

“Don’t!  You’ll pull us both in!”

A look of misgiving flitted through her panicked gaze.

“Trust me.  I’ll not you let go.”

The Lady and the Warrior is .99 at Amazon. This short historical with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor gives a taste of my long historicals.  If you like it, chances are you will enjoy them too. Also available at Barnes & Noble as a NookBook.

***Images of stream and old family musket, powder horn, and hunting pouch by my mom, Pat Churchman. Cover by daughter Elise.

Got Time for A Short Story? Historical Romance The Lady and the Warrior–Beth Trissel


“The Lady and The Warrior is a very short story that is a pleasure to read. Beth Trissel transports us into a special world with her descriptions, well-rounded characters and delightful writing.” ~Amazon Reviewer Reader Forever

ExcerptMay, 1783, the Virginia Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains

That terrified cry came from the stream.  Zane didn’t have much time to reach her.  And he was so close!

He slid the musket strap from his shoulder.  Grasping the long firearm, he raced over the misty path.  Like a buck taking flight, he dodged stones and sprang over fallen limbs.  He skirted an enormous downed trunk capped with toadstools.  Shouldering the musket again, he pushed through the underbrush.

Branches snagged his brown hunting shirt.  Briars snatched at his leather breeches and wool leggings.  He tore free.  A tangle of vines lay between him and the woman.  Taking the tomahawk slung at his side, he chopped his way through.  Chest pounding, he arrived at the engorged stream.

With eyes honed to detect the barest hint of man or beast, he scanned the swift current.  Woodland debris bobbed in the brown flood.  No woman.  She must be farther downstream.

He sprinted along the edge of the bank.  Whoever this unfortunate female was, she was about to drown.  Even without knowing her, it goaded him.  And the urge to save her swelled inside like the muddy water overflowing its banks.

There!  Zane spotted the young woman clinging to a branch as the torrent did its damnedest to rip her away.

“Hold on!  I’m coming!”

Her head swiveled toward him, face white with fear and fatigue.

“Hold on!”

She managed the barest nod.

He laid his musket on the ground.   Wedging his moccasins against the stones and roots, he sidestepped down the slick earth.  Then reached out and grasped the branch she held to—testing its strength.  The wood was firm beneath his hand.

So far, so good.

He leaned over the swirling water.  Careful.  One misstep and they’d both be swept away to a watery grave.

Desperate eyes met his, the hue of summer leaves and marbled with brown like the forest.   Her fingers slipped.

Quick!   He snagged her shoulder, digging in his fingers so her cloak wouldn’t come away in his hand.  “I’ve got you!”

She clutched at him.

“Don’t!  You’ll pull us both in!”

A look of misgiving flitted through her panicked gaze.

“Trust me.  I’ll not you let go.”

The Lady and the Warrior is .99 at Amazon. This short historical with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor gives a taste of my long historicals.  If you like it, chances are you will enjoy them too.

***Images of stream and old family musket, powder horn, and hunting pouch by my mom, Pat Churchman. Cover by daughter Elise.

New Sweet Saturday Snippet From My Short Historical Romance


From The Lady and the Warrior~

May, 1783, the Virginia Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains

A woman?  Stopping along the foggy trail, Zane Cameron fingered the long strands of light brown hair fluttering from a patch of briers.

Nearby, he spotted a bit of crimson cloth, likely torn from her cloak.   In the sodden earth were indentations left by leather shoes, not moccasins.   Small, too, and light.  Definitely a woman of slender build.  Some greenhorn must have brought her into the frontier.

Idiot.  What in blazes was a female doing out here alone?

Not long ago a newcomer had been killed and his bride taken captive by Shawnee.  Didn’t these land grabbers realize the war had never ended in the frontier?

This wild country was dangerous enough for a cagey man.  Even a toughened Indian woman would be hard-pressed to survive unaided in these mountains.   And this was no Indian judging by the color of her hair and clothes, unless she was a half-breed who took after the English side of the family.  A sharp pain darted through him at the reminder.

“Reuben!”

A woman’s voice reached him through the mist-shrouded trees.  She might be two or three miles ahead of him.   Difficult to be sure.  Sound carried quite a distance in these ridges.  Especially in the wet.

“Reuben!” Again she shouted the man’s name.  And  again.

Whoever this Reuben was,  he’d left her, either intentionally or not.  If Zane had a woman, he wouldn’t treat her so carelessly.  And he’d better find this one soon.  Her cries would attract every predator, animal or human, in these woods.

Abandoning his hunt, Zane headed in her direction—hoping he reached her first.

***

***For more authors participating in Sweet Saturday Samples Click HERE.

Short Historical Romance The Lady and the Warrior–Beth Trissel


“The Lady and The Warrior is a very short story that is a pleasure to read. Beth Trissel transports us into a special world with her descriptions, well-rounded characters and delightful writing.” ~by Amazon Reviewer Reader Forever

ExcerptMay, 1783, the Virginia Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains

That terrified cry came from the stream.  Zane didn’t have much time to reach her.  And he was so close!

He slid the musket strap from his shoulder.  Grasping the long firearm, he raced over the misty path.  Like a buck taking flight, he dodged stones and sprang over fallen limbs.  He skirted an enormous downed trunk capped with toadstools.  Shouldering the musket again, he pushed through the underbrush.

Branches snagged his brown hunting shirt.  Briars snatched at his leather breeches and wool leggings.  He tore free.  A tangle of vines lay between him and the woman.  Taking the tomahawk slung at his side, he chopped his way through.  Chest pounding, he arrived at the engorged stream.

With eyes honed to detect the barest hint of man or beast, he scanned the swift current.  Woodland debris bobbed in the brown flood.  No woman.  She must be farther downstream.

He sprinted along the edge of the bank.  Whoever this unfortunate female was, she was about to drown.  Even without knowing her, it goaded him.  And the urge to save her swelled inside like the muddy water overflowing its banks.

There!  Zane spotted the young woman clinging to a branch as the torrent did its damnedest to rip her away.

“Hold on!  I’m coming!”

Her head swiveled toward him, face white with fear and fatigue.

“Hold on!”

She managed the barest nod.

He laid his musket on the ground.   Wedging his moccasins against the stones and roots, he sidestepped down the slick earth.  Then reached out and grasped the branch she held to—testing its strength.  The wood was firm beneath his hand.

So far, so good.

He leaned over the swirling water.  Careful.  One misstep and they’d both be swept away to a watery grave.

Desperate eyes met his, the hue of summer leaves and marbled with brown like the forest.   Her fingers slipped.

Quick!   He snagged her shoulder, digging in his fingers so her cloak wouldn’t come away in his hand.  “I’ve got you!”

She clutched at him.

“Don’t!  You’ll pull us both in!”

A look of misgiving flitted through her panicked gaze.

“Trust me.  I’ll not you let go.”

***

The Lady and the Warrior, is .99 at Amazon. This short historical with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor gives a taste of my long historicals.  If you like it, chances are you will enjoy them too.

***Images of stream and old family musket, powder horn, and hunting pouch by my mom, Pat Churchman. Cover by daughter Elise.