The Governor's Daughter

By Cedric Goudy

Black Owl Zuni, or Boz, as his friends call him, is a serious student of the martial arts. With his Apache and Korean blood, he feels naturally drawn to the teachings of the wise Master Whiteheart. If he can learn from the past, his body and spirit can be linked forever, giving him unmatched power.

On a rare cool morning in Black Sands, Nevada, Boz goes for a run before school and inadvertently meets Cynthia Kolby, a beautiful new girl at his high school. A quick friendship is forged that may prove to be far more important than either of them can imagine.

Across the country, the sons of the governor’s former business partner want revenge on Kolby for wronging their father. The Thomas Brothers hatch a plan to kidnap Cynthia and hold her for ranson.

Black Owl may very well be the only one strong enough to protect The Governor’s Daughter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedric Goudy
• Release date: Aug 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476440569

Cedric Goudy

Cedric Goudy was born and raised in the beautiful city of Bountiful, Utah located in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains. Cedric’s time away from school and family were spent largely at the Bountiful Recreation center, where he attended karate classes under the direction of Sensei Youngblood, a man that had a huge impact on Cedric’s life. It was in karate class that Mr. Goudy learned lessons of discipline, perseverance, endurance and accomplishment. While attending high school, Cedric hung out with his friends Tim and Roger who are inspiration for characters in this novel, (they really are characters) thanks guys for the good times! After graduating from Woods Cross High School (Go Wildcats!) Cedric spent some time helping people in Porto Alegre, Brazil. Upon returning home he met, dated and married his wife, they have been married for more than twenty-five years. Together they have four children. Mr. Goudy is an accomplished martial artist. Under the experienced teaching of Master Brinkerhoff, Cedric trained for and earned his black belt in a Filipino style martial art. While training for his black belt, Cedric learned that the greatest foe we will ever face is ourselves. We can have continuous personal improvement as we strive to conquer our own doubts and fears. Mr. Goudy now resides in northwest, Utah where he lives with his wife, and two dogs, Kiah and Nina. He spends his free time, when he can find it, hiking and running with his wife and lifting weights, and hunting in southern Utah. Cedric loves the beauty and majesty of Utah and her many vistas and opportunities for recreation and of course her rich history. Hopefully many more novels will come with the southwest being the main backdrop.

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The Governor’s Daughter

by

Cedric Goudy

Published by Cedric Goudy at Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 Cedric Goudy

Cover Art © 2011 Karen E. Hoover

Pictures used by license from http://www.istockphoto.com/

Formatting by Karen E. Hoover

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, certain characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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Acknowledgements

Completing a project like a novel is never a one-man journey.

I have to give credit to many people, starting with my editor Cassandra, who cleaned up my mistakes and helps me be a better writer. A lot of gratitude to Karen E. Hoover, an awesome writer, who was willing to help me make my novel a reality. Miss Reed, my ninth grade English teacher at South Davis Junior High School, who made me read so I would pass her class.

In High School Mrs. Hodgson, the toughest teacher I ever had, encouraged me to explore creative writing, while at the same time critiqued me and made me break out of my limitations and try new ideas.

This novel would never have come to life without the real Cynthia who is the inspiration for this story.

Thanks, to my friend Jason for being the first person to read the rough draft and for giving me an honest opinion. Sensei Youngblood is the one I recognize for planting a love of martial arts in my soul and for helping me reach my athletic goals. And later in life, Master Brinkerhoff deserves a lot of thanks for teaching me how to be my best through the study of martial arts. But most of all, thanks to my wife for believing in me and kicking me in the butt when I wanted to quit. I love you and the kids so much forever.

This book is dedicated to my wife and children. Thank you for believing in me. And to all those kids that have within them a hero—one day you will know your true strength.

Chapter 1

Biting fangs of icy water tear at my naked flesh. I am entombed in a watery cell with only my nose protruding, allowing for only shallow breaths. This is to be the last of the trials and training. For three months I have been training to master an obscure eclectic martial art that has tested my body and mind on every level. This obscure art is a combination of several art forms. Like the ninja practitioners of old, my ancestors, who were warriors from the orient as well as American Indians, developed training methods of training that today would be outlawed. The methods were akin to torture all designed to build mere men into fearless never say die warriors. These three months I have experienced some of these brutal methods of training. Through it all I have not only survived but also flourished. My body and mind are intertwined like few people can imagine.

This last trial is quite possibly the toughest. Those of us who have survived to this point are in icy water completely immersed and naked. Our successful outcome will see us remain in the freezing water for two hours then we must walk, run or crawl five miles totally naked to our camp where we will be clothed fed and awarded the rank of masters.

I have been completely immersed except for my nose for one hour and forty-five minutes. I feel no ill effects from the water’s temperature; the mind control techniques learned this summer serve me well by keeping my body temperature a steady ninety-eight degrees. My mind is locked on the story of my ancestors, the stories of survival my father told me. The tales of long ago keep my mind occupied and concentrating on something that is fully engaging. The trials and conquests of ancient peoples fill my mind teaching me how to survive, to conquer any foe. Right now my foe is the water.

Water is one of the most powerful substances on earth. It gives life but in an instant can just as easily take it. Nothing can stop water it can only be directed. Fire can be extinguished; wind only blows for a time. Water is always a potential power waiting to escape. And yet water is the softest substance on earth. It can take any shape. It can overcome rock. It can destroy any structure built by man. For this reason, it was chosen for the last trial.

Finally my watcher, the one making sure I don’t die in the water, taps my head signaling me to get out of the water. In order to be awarded the rank of master I must endure this entire trial process on my own. No one can even help me climb out of the water. I raise my head out of the water and take my first full breath in two hours. It is now that I feel the cold water surrounding my body. Every cell in my body suddenly screams for heat, but none will be available. As quickly as possible, I extricate myself from the water, mostly crawling to shore, and lie in the cool air trying to soak up any heat from the sun warmed earth. Instantly I focus my mind to ignore the cold while attempting to stand. Even with the mind control techniques my strength is gone. It takes me several attempts to get to my hands and knees. I start crawling like a child, making snail-like progress. My body responds to the movement and begins to warm ever so slightly. A little more motion and my body warms more, waking my muscles, causing blood flow. Strength comes slowly. My knees and palms are scraped. Blood is beginning to ooze from the wounds. I try to stand, but fall my training kicks in; I catch myself on my wrists and elbows instead of my head. I roll on my back and rest for a while. Again, I try to stand. This time my entire weight is on my legs. Without knowing how I can still move, I realize my feet are shuffling forward slowly at first then faster. Now my feet move faster and soon my legs are getting in the game, lifting higher and higher. Now I am running. Blood is coursing through veins, channeling the precious liquid through my heart and lungs at an ever-increasing rate. Faster blood flow encourages lethargic muscles to life. Now heat is self-generating, illuminating the mind and defogging the brain, opening a fresh avenue of thought. It is not survival that has filled my mind but the assurance of victory that spurs me on. I am only slightly conscious of my nakedness, and really I don’t care. This, too, is part of the trial. We must learn to not be ashamed but to always be humble, caring only about what matters at this time.

Time passes quickly while I am running naked through the mountains, gaining elevation with every step. My feet, thankfully, are untouched. Calluses have formed from the hours of barefoot training in which I have participated. From day one in camp my shoes were confiscated with the promise that they would be returned when my training was completed. If not for that fact alone, my feet would be a bloody mess.

I no longer feel any effects from the icy water prison. In fact, sweat is freely flowing over my entire body. Ironically, the greatest danger now is dehydration. Somewhere in all this tortuous training is a life lesson: fire can hurt or help us; water can drown or freeze us or it can save us from thirst. Each of these things can be used to help or hurt us; just like the skills we have developed. It is amazing what we can learn when our minds are free from distraction. For three months, our instructors have been hammering us with physical and mental lessons, in part to teach us one thing: everything we acquire in our life can be used for good of evil. I now have the knowledge to take a life with my hands, and with these same hands I can save a life. It is my choice.

The camp is in sight; only half a mile separates me from clothing and food. I have to stop thinking about food and clothes. I must keep my mind locked on finishing the task at hand. A quarter of a mile, now a hundred yards now through the gate. I jog to the fire built in the center of camp, collapsing on the flat stones surrounding the fire pit. I can’t care less about being totally nude and I don’t care about the dirt that covers my body. I only care that I have finished my trial. I have conquered every foe set before me.

The fire heated stones warm my body, allowing me to relax for the first time in several days. In my relaxation, I fall asleep lying on the fire-warmed stones.

I open my eyes expecting to see the sun setting in the western sky. To my surprise, all is dark. The sun has already set. Another welcomed surprise is finding a warm blanket wrapped around me, warding off the chill night air. The warm blanket and the fire still burning are a signal from my masters that I have been successful I am now a master.

Nocturnal creatures are calling to each other searching for mates or prey. This is a ritual that is repeated all summer long. The masters taught us to listen to the night creatures. They are teaching us that if we will truly listen with our hearts and minds not just our ears we can learn ancient secrets unknown to the unhearing.

I think I hear the crickets calling me by name.

Black Owl.

I listen more intently; they are calling me, inviting me to join them in a new quest, a quest for untold wisdom.

Black Owl come to the dark!

I received my name in the traditional Indian way. My father, being a full blood Apache, named me after the owls that inhabit the desert oasis that is our home. Black Owl Zuni is my given name but my family and friends call me Boz, short for Black Owl Zuni. Believe me with a name like Black Owl I stand out like a chicken at a lion convention at my local high school. I am very proud of the name my father gave me but it gets a little old telling everyone how my father came up with the name.

Hearing the crickets reminds me of the sounds of the desert surrounding my home in the Nevada desert and my mind drifts to home. I wonder what my family is doing, and for the first time I feel a little homesick. The desert and the oasis of my home are a wonderful place. Black Sand Nevada is an island oasis in the sea of sand and rocks. In the late 1800s, gold, precious metals and gems were discovered in the black sands of the southwest desert. It quickly became a boomtown, but almost as quickly dried up due in part to the harsh desert conditions. Later in the early 1900s, oil was found nearby and again Black Sand became a boomtown. Today many prominent people make Black Sand their secret home. More than half the town’s citizens are millionaires. The richies and celebrities live there to stay hidden from the paparazzi.

My master, Master Whiteheart, lets me sleep on the stone hearth surrounding the fire pit, choosing to let me rest where I fell rather than disturb my slumber. Waking in the middle of the night completely nude is not one of my normal activities. I decide to move into my tent. Standing up in preparation to move to my tent brings screams of protest from my exhausted, fatigued body. The intense trials of the last few days have finally taken their toll. Every muscle from my head to my toes screams in protest as I stumble more than walk to my tent to once again hopefully find dreamless sleep.

No sooner do I close my eyes when sunlight smashes past the open flap of my tent, burning through my closed lids. How in the world does the earth rotate so fast? I’d bet my sister’s breakfast that last night only lasted five minutes. I swing my feet to the ground, slide off my cot and just begin to stand as Master Whiteheart enters my tent.

Black Owl, get up, get cleaned up, the ceremony will be starting very soon!

Yes, Sensei I reply bowing.

Chapter 2

My homecoming to Black Sand was mostly uneventful. A lot of the kids from Black Sand go away to summer camp, so my arrival is just one more unannounced arrival. A few of the rich kids spend the summer in Europe and we hear about it for the first few weeks of school. I hope to never brag when I am rich and can travel the world.

Nothing much ever changes in Black Sand; all the major changes took place several decades ago when the minerals and oil were discovered. Now the town grows slowly as one or two new millionaires move in each year. The only mining and drilling done now is by major companies with money to spend in making deeper mines and drilling oil wells that were thought dried up. Even the stores look like they were built a hundred years ago, because they were.

Hey, Dad, I say as we make the approach to our street. What is that big building being built on the hill?

That is the new home of the former governor of Nevada Dad answers. The Governor is moving his family here from Carson City. He feels his family will be safer away from the big city.

Mom pipes up to put in her two cents. The story in the paper stated that the Governor’s daughter will be attending a public school for the first time in her life.

Why would she want to do that? I wonder out loud. I wonder what grade she is in?

Mom answers before I can get in another word.

According to the papers she is the same age as you, sixteen!

Another thing that never changes in Black Sand is my sister. She stays up late, devising new ways to torment me. Lin is just one year older than me and sure she is smarter and tougher. When we were younger, she used to wrestle me to ground and hold me in a headlock until I yelled uncle or started crying. These days she just threatens, She knows there is no way she could hold me down now. But it is true she gets better grades than me and always has. One thing about Lin is that she is probably the prettiest girl in our high school. She intimidates a lot of the other girls without ever saying a word. The combination of Oriental and Native American blood mixed well in making her. Actually, she is a near carbon copy of our mother, who looks to be in her early twenties when she is really closer to forty.

Hey, Boo Boo, yells Lin when she steps out of the house to meet us. She has called me Boo Boo since the day I fell down the stairs when I was two.

Hi, Lin I reply. How was your summer without your favorite brother hanging around?

Very quiet and peaceful, no dirty socks in the hallway, no fighting for the T.V. It was great!

Thanks, Sis I missed you, too!

I know she is kidding when she gives me a big hug and a punch in the arm.

Boo, you should see the new house on the hill. It’s the biggest house in the state! She spreads her arms to make the point. The entire place is surrounded with a ten foot fence and security cameras everywhere!

How do you know that? I ask.

Charise and I drove up there last night and looked around.

Charise is our cousin who lives two doors away, she spends enough time at our house to be considered another sister.

Did you see the Governor up there? I ask as I lug my bags out of the car and head for the house.

Nope, just a couple guys on the grounds acting like they’re guarding the President of the United States!

They’re probably just trying to keep sneeker peepers like you away.

Lin just sneers at me with her tongue sticking out. What a sister.

Mom yells just as I am setting down my bags. She hates it when we drop our stuff in the front room. To be an obedient son, I pick up the bags and carry them to my room. I lay on the bed for a moment to adjust to being home. Then hop in the shower to get cleaned up for dinner.

My first dinner at home since summer camp is wonderful. Mom can make anything taste great. Her favorite thing to make for Dad is her version of a Korean hamburger. Imagine a half-pound hamburger patty marinated in garlic and other spices, char broiled to perfection then served on a huge sesame bun smothered in cheddar and Swiss cheese, fresh wok fried or steamed veggies including onions and slathered in mayonnaise, ketchup and mustard. We love the Korean burgers and American cowboy wedges. The hamburger mom uses comes from a local ranch near Black Sand, the vegetables were grown in our family garden, and Lin and Charise baked the buns. Nobody leaves the table hungry. That is a rule long ago established by my mother’s mom. It’s not good to go against grandma’s rules.

Just like most evenings Charise is eating dinner with us. Charise’s parents both work for the Nevada Fish and Game Department. They both travel around the state a bunch keeping as many sportsmen as honest as possible. Because they are away so much, Charise stays with us, but mom insists that she help with the daily chores just as if she were one of my mom’s daughters. Charise never complains. I think she is just happy to have a family who can take her in.

Lin and I are told to clean up after dinner while Charise is asked sweep the floor. Mom and Dad retire to their bedroom to discuss some family stuff. It sure seems that Mom and Dad spend a lot of time discussing family stuff whenever Dad is home from deployment for the military.

Dad must be one funny guy because when he and Mom are discussing family stuff Mom giggles a lot. It seems, though, that the only time Mom is giggling is when she and Dad are in the bedroom. As soon as the blue phone rings, Mom’s mood changes dramatically, and smiles are seldom seen during these times. Dad told Lin and me long ago that when their bedroom door was closed we were not to touch the door. That meant no knocking or peaking under the door or anything unless a natural disaster was coming or the house was burning down or one of us was bleeding to death, other than that don’t disturb them.

Neither Lin nor I ever had a problem with our parents’ alone time. After all, when Dad leaves on deployment, he is usually gone for months at a time. Any wife who sends her husband away like Mom does deserves all the alone time with her husband she can get. Somehow, through twenty years of marriage to a military man, my mom and dad have been able to keep their family together and their love strong. It seems to me that each day Dad is more in love with Mom. They act like newly-weds all the time. It really is quite cute to see my parents so in love.

We don’t know exactly what Dad does for the military; all we know is if the blue phone in the den rings, he leaves within three hours, when a big black suburban with darkened windows pulls up in front of our house, Dad hugs Lin, Charise, and me, he gives Mom a long passionate kiss, whispers something in her ear, then throws his stuff in the waiting suburban, and away he goes. We know he is part of the Special Forces, but nothing beyond that.

Dishes don’t take too long when Lin and me work together. It’s when we goof off that the chores seem to take forever. But, tonight, Lin wants to go check out the new house. For some reason, it has activated her curiosity and I don’t know why. In Black Sand, houses come in all sizes, and most are huge mansions; but the new house being built for the former governor dwarfs even the biggest house in town.

When Lin gets an idea in her head, it is very hard to dissuade her. So now I find myself walking on the sidewalk outside the former governor’s house, amazed at the size of the thing. The outside is lit up like the White House; the fences are easily ten feet high, or higher made of wrought iron with pickets on top. Obviously the former governor has designed this place with security as its main purpose. I wonder why there aren’t gun turrets stationed on the roof? I suspect if it were code-appropriate the guns would already be visible.

Charise wants to make the entire trek around the house property. It appears to me to be almost a full mile walk to completely circumvent just the fenced area around the house.

On the backside, away from town, the lights from the house are aimed more inside the fenced area, illuminating that portion of the yard. I assume the lights are positioned so as not to shine towards the ranch houses that sit just down the dirt road from this huge castle. Lin gets the brainy idea that we should ring the visitor’s bell by pushing the button mounted near the front gate. Go ahead I tell her I don’t think anyone is home anyway

Just like the snot she is, Lin pushes the bell button just to not be proven a sissy. To our amazement a voice answers through the speaker box mounted just behind the gate.

Can I help you? answers a husky male voice.

Uh, uh I was just checking to see if anyone was home, stutters Lin.

Just the security staff is here at the present time, says the voice in the box.

Charise pipes up,

Can we tour the grounds and the house?

Sorry no tourists allowed at this time. The husky voice responds.

That’s too bad, states Charise, I want to be a landscape designer and the grounds here are really nice!

Sorry responds the voice in the box. For security reasons we do not give tours.

Okay, thanks Mister security man, answers Lin.

We wander back home enjoying a pleasant evening stroll through our little town.

The rest of the night we spend sitting outside our house gazing at the stars while I recount some of the adventures of my summer camp. I omit some of the rough stuff on purpose to escape the relentless questions that the girls would throw my way. Viewing the stars brings back memories of the nights I spent in the mountains over the summer. In one training session my only companions were the stars and the trees. I spent hours upon hours night after night gazing at the heavenly orbs, searching for answers to my many questions. It seemed to me that the stars-and even the moon-spoke to me in the same way they spoke to my ancestors, teaching the wisdom of eons of time.

I say, I find comfort and solace knowing that our fathers from ancient times gazed upon the same night sky we are admiring. What problems did they solve or what wisdom did our fathers learn while watching the nights sky?

Lin has her moments of genius from time, to time and tonight was one such moment,

I wonder if our Asian fathers saw the stars in the same way as our Indian fathers did? When our ancient fathers prepared for battles, I wonder if they searched the sky to know if God would accept them if they fell by their enemies, or did our mothers drop tears of pain and sorrow under the same sky I am watching?

You know Lin I say, I never really thought how our ancient mothers must have endured the harsh life they were called to live. I mean, sending your husbands and sons into battle was just as difficult back then as it is now

Think about your mom, says Charise. She sends your dad away all the time, never knowing if it is the last time she will see him. That’s got to be just as hard as our ancient mothers had it, and your mom gets through it by just looking forward.

Charise understands how our family works and she feels sad and anxious when our dad leaves on deployment. Plus, the loneliness she endures when her own parents are gone tends to intensify her emotions even more.

Tonight is no different that many other nights. Charise is sleeping on the trundle bed in Lin’s room, and I plan on staying up a while longer learning from the stars. After all tomorrow is Sunday so no reason to get up early. Lin and Charise make their way into the house while I begin a session of inner space meditation, attempting to keep my mind and body in close sync. I never know when I will need to use my hard-learned special skills.

The ringing of the blue phone in the study breaks my meditation. My heart sinks, and I know mom just aged ten years in two minutes. We all know what is coming: in about three hours a dark suburban will pull up in front of our house and dad will be gone for who knows how long. It happens frequently, but it never gets any easier for our family or me.

Chapter 3

Seth Thomas jumped from the large transport plane, and launched himself into a fast free fall toward earth. In that moment of adrenaline and excitement his mind reverted to memories of other times he felt such exhilaration and dread. Memories of the beatings he received from his father for wetting the bed were other moments of exciting dread. One some kind of a warped level, Seth almost looked forward to the pain inflicted by his acerbic father. The fear brought on by those floggings was some of the most exciting moments of Seth’s younger years.

Falling from the plane and having no real control of what would happen engendered similar feelings of wonderful, terrible dread. How he hated his father for those unwarranted punishments.

The possible tragedies of a failed jump were endless. Seth fantasized what it might be like to crash into the ground. What kind of pain would it be could it compare to the abuse he received from his misguided parent?

Wind gusts caught Seth’s open parachute, effectively halting his descent. The tightening of his body straps was for seconds very uncomfortable. Recalling jump-training instructions he ignored the straps that were digging into his flesh and concentrated instead on what to do when he landed.

Touch down, bend your knees, tuck and roll if you lose your balance. Don’t fight the forces of nature, roll with them. These were the thoughts that flooded his mind just moments before his boots hit dirt. As instructed Seth tried to stay upright when his boots touched the ground but he couldn’t stay balanced; he let gravity take over which sent him sprawling to the ground. Hoping to avoid injury Seth tucked his body into a tight ball and rolled onto his shoulder minimizing any serious damage to his person. He wasn’t fearful of pain or injury, hear was concerned more with completing his quest to become a Special Forces warrior.

Each trainee had been instructed on the many avenues of death if anything went wrong. Individual jumpers did their level best to push away negativity; Seth reveled in the dreadful possibilities. It was when life was hanging on the edge that