Warrior Sunset

By Cheri Duhamel

Enjoyed by men and women alike, Warrior Sunset tells a tale of strength and courage. In the quickly changing world of the late 19th century, Jessica finds the strength to overcome her past and become what she must, while she confronts a familiar enemy. Mahayu is faced with a people consumed with hatred and fear. When their world's collide, both sides have to find the courage to change or seal their fate.
Actual Comments about Warrior Sunset: "a page turner," "a good action book," "loved the romance in it," "a complete story," "I really liked Mahayu," "kept me up reading," "I can't believe the ending," etc.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheri Duhamel
• Release date: Aug 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452478234

Cheri Duhamel

Cheri began her writing career 23 years ago as a technical writer with a bachelor’s degree, then moved into journalism as a writer and editor. She has published poetry, prose and numerous articles in newspapers and magazines. She began writing fiction ten years ago. Now she writes screenplays and video games. Warrior Sunset is Cheri’s first novel.

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White Quill Publishing

Brush Prairie, Washington

Smashwords Edition

Warrior Sunset Copyright 2007 by Cheri Duhamel

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written consent from the publisher.

Duhamel, Cheri. Warrior Sunset: A Novel / Cheri Duhamel

Cover Design: Leif Bjerke

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and the Tetwanee people are the creation of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.

For Sean, Adam, Nicole and Sarah.

Be Happy

Be Kind

Be Strong

Be Silly

Be Brave

Be who You are

But most of all, take time to just Be.

Chapter 1 - Sunrise

Trouble was the penalty she’d pay for her curiosity, but she had to know; the sounds upset her. They always did. Jessica peered through the sleek, wooden barristers of the winding staircase. Grasping two she stuck her face between them and bit her lip, then snuck down the burgundy-carpeted steps. Creeping low, she grasped one barrister, then another, while descending. Shouting rose louder and louder from the study, as she rounded the stair’s curve.

Bang! She froze and took a deep breath. Getting caught meant a backhand from Father at least, but she had to know. She had to know the reason her Negro Nanny, Ida May, ushered her and Amanda up to their room each time Father came home late from the office.

Jessica listened to Stewart Prine rant at Harriet, his wife. He ranted about things that had nothing to do with hearth or home. Ranted in a manner a 14-year-old girl should not hear.

Crash! Jessica flinched, as the sound of shattered glass particles settled in the study. She gasped and stuck a knuckle in her teeth. What is going on in there? she thought. After he finished venting rage upon his wife, Prine threw open the door and left the room.

She peered inside. Her eyes widened and breathing stopped. On the floor sat her mother. Tears rolled down Harriet’s reddened cheeks, but she did not sob. Suddenly, something made sense to Jessica. Her mother explained away mysterious cuts and bruises on her arms or face as accidents, but they hadn’t been accidents at all. Her father put them there. Jessica’s ears grew hot. Her face flushed and she ground her teeth until her jaws hurt.

How could he do that to her, to his own wife? He slapped her and Amanda for back talking or the occasional sideways glance, but Mother? For what reason? It wasn’t right. While she ran to her mother’s side to comfort and nurture, Jessica expected a loving greeting, but received something else instead.

Go back upstairs! Harriet said between clenched teeth.

But . . .

Now!

He shouldn’t treat you that way.

He’ll treat you the same way if he finds you here. Go back upstairs, Jessica, where you belong.

Harriet stood up, took Jessica by the arm and accompanied her to the bottom of the stairs. Jessica gazed at her mother bewildered. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her lip continued to swell. A bluish-purple mark spread across her left cheek, but her eyes remained strong and determined. Jessica turned and went back upstairs where she also received a scolding from Ida May. Jessica finally understood what was really happening within the family.

From that day on freedom became a constant thought in Jessica’s mind. Although she had limited options, the longing to escape the oppressive walls of her childhood home and find a better life plagued her.

It was the late nineteenth-century in the eastern United States. Women wore long, fine Victorian dresses while men sported suits and hats. The primary mode of transportation consisted of a horse and carriage. Tall leafy-trees lined the cobblestone streets on which people walked, stopping frequently to converse about essential things such as the weather. Women discussed so-and-so’s new Negro maid. Men spoke of business. Everyone and everything had its place. To move beyond the scope of societal boundaries was a near impossibility regardless of what went on behind closed doors.

Jessica felt pinned into a corner. She considered striking out on her own, but had no money, no skills for work and no where to learn.

Mother, what do you think about the university? Jessica asked Harriet when she was 16.

Harriet didn’t answer immediately. She just continued stirring the gravy, as though Jessica had said nothing. Although it wasn’t thick enough, she removed it from the heat and set it aside.

Jessica’s eyebrows twitched. Did I ask such a difficult question that it warranted this kind of attention? she thought.

Harriet walked to the doorway and looked beyond it. She stood there a moment as if listening. Then she peered out the window.

Jessica was confused. Mother . . .

Harriet raised a finger.

Jessica fell silent and waited for her mother to finish surveying their surroundings.

Apparently satisfied with her findings, Harriet turned to Jessica. Of all the stubborn, fool, head-strong notions, Jessica. What’s the matter with you? Such talk in this household.

I . . .

Now don’t go pretending you don’t understand. You know full well what your father would say on the subject.

No.

Yes.

I didn’t ask what Father thought, Mother. I asked what you thought. Jessica stared at her mother, in hope her mother would give her something on which to hold.

Jessica, she said with a sigh and stroked Jessica’s hair. By my way of thinking, women are the stronger of the pair in a marriage. We have to be. We bear the burdens of our husbands, our children, our parents and ourselves. Sometimes we have to bear even more than that. Being educated would surely help with that. But for you . . . She kissed Jessica’s forehead. You will bear your burdens without it.

Jessica stared at the floor and nodded.

Harriet turned back to the stove and put the gravy back on the heat.

Jessica’s feet found their way to the kitchen doorway.

If I had my way, said Harriet when Jessica stood on the threshold, you and your sister would go. You’d both stand a better chance of controlling your own fate then.

Jessica’s head snapped toward her mother, but Harriet just stirred the simmering gravy.

Mother, do you . . ?

You have chores, Jessica.

Jessica left the kitchen a bit more enlightened about her mother, but no closer to her goal. In her heart, she knew the biggest deficit she suffered was nerve. Therefore, she remained under her father’s roof and hoped for something better, perhaps a marriage to a man who would treat her well.

Prine wanted sons to carry on his import-export business, but she and Amanda blessed the hearth. He made it clear that a mere woman could not be trusted to take over the company.

Girls, Harriet! he said whenever the mood struck him. The only thing I ever asked of you was to give me a son, and what do I get? What do you give me? Females. Two of them. Women have no head for business, Harriet. You know that.

Yes, Dear, Harriet said.

Those two will put us under.

Yes, Dear.

No head for numbers. Women have no head for numbers! He shook his head and curled his lip in disgust. Girls.

Jessica assumed he would groom a younger man for the job with the intention of marrying into the family. However, Prine made other arrangements.

On the eve of Jessica’s 17th birthday, her father announced that he found her a husband. The man would join them for dinner the next evening. Jessica wanted to make her own marital choice, so she protested—an uncustomary act in the Prine household.

You will meet him, be presentable and show him the proper respect a woman shows her husband. If he approves, you will marry him, said Prine.

But Father . . . she said. Jessica recognized the expression. Since she didn’t want to meet her future husband with a bruised cheek; she checked her tongue and hung her head. She didn’t know whether to hope she could fall in love or pray he didn’t want her. Father will force the marriage no matter what. I can see it in his eyes, but why?

Ida May prepared a complete turkey dinner. The savory aroma of poultry, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy filled the entire house. Amanda spent the afternoon helping Jessica get ready. The dining room lay set in its finest array, along with the Prine family. They had only to await the arrival of their guest.

Jessica paced her room and waited for a summons. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like. Was he tall? Short? Did he have facial hair? Was he educated? What color were his eyes? Was he kind? Did he smile easily? Did he smile at all? To Jessica’s knowledge, her father only smiled when a business deal went well.

You’ll wear a path in the carpet, Amanda said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Jessica watched the smile fade and knew Amanda was also unhappy with the arrangement though she tried to hide it.

Jessica grinned, bit her lip and sat at the vanity gazing at what she perceived as an unscented-soap appearance—brown hair surrounded brown eyes set in an average face. Such a contrast to that of her sister. Amanda took after their mother, fine featured with hazel eyes and light brown hair. People often commented on her beauty, as they grew up. However, Jessica reflected radiance in a burgundy satin gown with lace trim. Amanda pulled her hair into a roll and secured it with pearl-ended hairpins leaving several wavy tendrils to fall delicately about the shoulders, but nothing hid what she saw in her own eyes. She exhaled.

Rising, Jessica moved to the window. It faced the back of the house that overlooked the gardens; she still loved the view though recently they had fallen into a moderate state of disorder. Stone walkways wove through a maze of hedges, rosebushes and various other flowering shrubs. Occasionally, a tree sprung up to provide shade for a well-placed bench. Jessica and Amanda spent hours in the gardens as children, they ran, played games and hid from Ida May while she attempted to assemble them for their studies.

It may not be so bad, Amanda smiled. He may be a very nice man.

Maybe, Jessica said still facing the window chewing on a knuckle. Amanda joined her.

Don’t worry, she said and reached up to pull Jessica’s hand away from her teeth. I’ll come visit you often, no matter what he’s like.

Jessica smiled and embraced her sister. You’d better, she said.

And Jess . . .

She raised her eyebrows at Amanda.

Happy Birthday.

Thank you, Jessica said with a smile.

Jessica! Jessica, come down. Father said.

Jessica’s heart jumped. Here I go. How do I look? she asked and smoothed her gown.

Beautiful, said Amanda, beaming.

Jessica hugged her sister, then walked down the hall, head high, determined to greet the situation with dignity and grace. Not until she heard her father’s voice again did she look down from the top of the staircase.

Jeb, this is my eldest daughter, Jessica Prine. As you can see she is quite a fetching creature. Jessica, come down so Mr. Jones can have a closer look at you.

Closer look? Fetching creature? Was he making an introduction or a sale? Who was this man? Jessica wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but she thought the man would be at least a gentleman, someone closer in guise to her father. She anticipated a suit, hat, finely cropped hair and a clean shave or perhaps a small mustache. She thought he would appear similar to other men she met around the city, but there stood a clothed grizzly.

Jeb had wet-combed his shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair in an apparent attempt to dress for the occasion, but it rebelled by flipping up in a series of unorganized curls at the ends. Red facial hair sprang from his face, nearly hiding his mouth. Grey-blue eyes stared out from under heavy brows though they didn’t appear to convey much thought. His white button-up shirt, brown pants and suspenders reminded Jessica of clothes she saw farmers wear. However, he wore a tan-suede coat and boots that went nearly up to the knee. Both bore fringe, something she hadn’t seen before. More than 10 years her senior, she hoped he didn’t like her, while attempting to keep the disappointment hidden when they came face to face.

And this is the rest of the family, said Prine with a wave of a hand without taking his eyes off his guest. Harriet and Amanda appeared from their respective hiding places.

My youngest, Amanda. Amanda curtsied. And my wife, Harriet. Harriet, this is Mr. Jeb Jones. Prine always made a point of introducing Harriet in an order that indicated whether or not she was expected to speak. Introductions made prior to those of the children meant silence. The latter presentation provided an opportunity to make conversation.

Mr. Jones, said Harriet with a smile. Welcome to our home. May I take your overcoat?

Jeb nodded and removed his coat, as Harriet reached for the weather-stained jacket. Ida May appeared and took the soiled item from her mistress.

Nice home, Jeb said.

Thank you. Do come into the dining room. We have a wonderful meal prepared for you. I hope you enjoy it. Harriet motioned to Jessica to accompany their guest with a jerk of her head behind Jeb’s back. Jessica moved around her mother to escort him to the table followed by Prine and Harriet with Amanda in tow.

This is your seat, Mr. Jones. Jessica will sit across from you, Harriet informed Jeb to allow him to hold out Jessica’s chair.

All of the Prine women stood aghast when he sat down, while Jessica waited behind her chair. Prine seated his wife at one end of the table, then himself at its head without a glance at Jeb Jones. The young women sat down in a state of confusion and the meal began.

No one spoke much during dinner. The only real information Harriet extrapolated from Jeb involved his interest in hunting and trapping. Jessica spent most of her time trying to ignore Jeb’s atrocious manners, while controlling her nausea. Amanda sat in a wide-eyed state of awe. Occasionally, the sisters exchanged distressed glances. How could Father choose such a man? Was he going to take over the business, too?

Jessica learned the truth after their meal, quite by accident. Prine took Jeb into the study to discuss matters at hand and drink cognac. The women remained to clear the dishes and prepare for dessert. Once ready, Jessica went to retrieve the men.

. . . acceptable? she heard her father ask.

Jessica peered through the crack in the door.

She’ll do, Jeb responded.

I would sure like a chance at winning her back.

Don’t gamble much, Prine, Jeb replied. Only sometimes, when I see a sure thing.

How about double or nothing?

Don’t need two wives. Besides, the other one looks kinda young, Jeb said, then snickered.

Her father winced. Yes, well, he said. So, the debt is satisfied?

Yup, it’s satisfied. I’ll come around to fetch her on Friday afternoon, two o’clock, and we’ll head over to the Preacher’s. I’ll be needin’ to head home Saturday. See to it she’s ready. Don’t wanna be waitin’.

No, of course not.

A lump formed in Jessica’s throat. She tried to swallow it, but it wouldn’t move. Father’s giving me to this man to pay a gambling debt? It can’t be true. He wouldn’t do that! Not even Father could be that cold. Tears formed, as she backed away from the door and into her mother.

Jessica, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be . . .

Jessica spun around to face her.

So, he wants you, Harriet said.

It’s worse, Jessica said, her voice a whisper, much worse. She turned and ran upstairs.

Jessica sat up on the bed when she heard her father storm toward her room. Her insides thumped with each footfall. She never dared to behave in such a defiant manner in her life. He would make her pay for her disrespect. Tears ran down her face. Were they due to the Jones situation or her impending doom? Her father threw open the door hard enough to slam the wall. She cringed. Prine grabbed an arm and yanked Jessica to her feet.

How dare you walk away from a guest in this house! he said.

How dare you give me to that man to pay your gambling debt, Jessica said in a meek voice, surprised the words actually flowed forth, but she cared little about what he did. She didn’t want to go.

Jessica waited for the inevitable beating, but felt his grip loosen instead. Peering at her father, Jessica saw something she never expected to see. Sorrow replaced the anger. His eyes suddenly looked old and tired—perhaps even weak. He seemed . . . guilty. Jessica’s brows furrowed. Could her father be capable of emotion after all?

He lowered his eyes and left the room. As he did so, Jessica noticed her mother standing in the hallway outside the open door.

Gazing at her, Harriet entered. Jessica . . .

Mother, did you know?

No, of course not.

Are you going to let this happen?

What can I do?

Mother, please! The tears refreshed. Her breath came in short gasps.

Jessica, Darling, come and sit with me. Harriet sat on the bed and patted a spot beside her. She sat down still sobbing. When I married your father it wasn’t for love. It was an arranged marriage like this.

Grandfather was repaying a gambling debt?

No, no, nothing like that. It was just an arranged marriage. We had you girls and . . . here we are. Many marriages are arranged. My father thought that your father would make a good provider and he is.

Father didn’t arrange this marriage because he thinks Mr. Jones will make a good provider. He did it because he owes him money. That’s very different.

Yes, Dear, but . . . Harriet rose to close the door. Jessica, she said after reseating herself, haven’t you noticed how the gardens have gone unattended or how we no longer buy things as often as we used to?

Jessica shrugged.

There’s something you should know, Harriet’s voice was barely audible. Your father isn’t doing so well financially. He’s always gambled, but the economy is down and his business is suffering. So, we have to make a few sacrifices.

And I’m one of them.

I’m telling you this so you’ll understand the situation. You must keep this to yourself. Women don’t speak of such things, you know.

Mother, you can’t possibly believe that selling me into servitude to pay his debt is all right. It isn’t. It’s wrong!

Of course it is, Dear, Harriet replied. I’ll speak to him and see if anything can be done.

Thank you, Mother. Jessica took a deep breath. Her mother was her only hope.

Now, get some sleep. Harriet kissed her on the cheek. She smiled at Jessica and stroked her hair.

Friday morning broke cloudy and grey. Rain threatened, but it deterred no one. Prine made it clear the marriage would take place. I could run away, Jessica thought, but lacked the courage to carry it through. She still had no money, no where to go, no other alternatives. Maybe things will work out for the best. After all, I’ll be away from here.

Jeb Jones arrived promptly at two o’clock to collect Jessica and her belongings. After a brief ceremony, they retired to a nearby hotel to spend their wedding night. Jessica wanted to learn more about their destination, a homestead out west, but Jeb had other ideas. She stood in their room wide-eyed, scared and stared at the bed with a knuckle in her teeth.

Jeb grabbed her arm and jerked her toward it. Come on.

Chapter 2 - A Desperate Decision

Freedom still lay far beyond her grasp eleven years later, but Jessica would settle for escape. She ran so far the woods no longer looked familiar. He’s there. I know he’s there. He followed with such stealth, but she had to keep going. It meant her life.

Oxygen forced its way in and out of her lungs creating the sensation of knives thrusting their way between her ribs with each breath. Brambles in the thick forest undergrowth tore the once full-length skirt, leaving her bare legs exposed to hungry barbs. Blood trickled out of cuts and gashes, but it went unnoticed.

She tried to keep breakfast from burning, but Jeb took so long at the still. Did her heart turn upside down? It beat so erratically. She stumbled, lurched forward and fell. Dirt filled her nose and mouth. It overpowered the metallic taste of fear. Taking as deep a breath as possible without inhaling the soil, Jessica struggled to her feet and coughed. Each pant seared her chest, but she had to keep moving.

The forest floor rose steeply. With a glance back over a shoulder, she plunged onward. Breathe, Jess. Breathe, she told herself. Using hands as well as feet