Cheyenne Tears: Cheyenne Series, #3

By Rea Renee

Born of a white mother and half-Indian father, Luke inherits the shape-shifting abilities of his father and grandfather. His totem animal, the raven, not only allows him to fly, but sail through time and witness the future. Knowing the whites will betray Chief Black Kettle, Luke begins spying at Fort Lyon. When he attends a masked ball, he finds a woman who captures his heart. But will she accept him once she knows he's not fully white?

Lydia has taken care of herself and twin brother since their parents died. Tall for a female, she's used to men being intimidated by her. When a mysterious stranger with piercing blue eyes dances with her, she can't help but be memorized.

In a world of hostile wars between the whites and Indians, will these two find love despite their differences or are some prejudices too strangling?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rea Renee
• Release date: May 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386636700

Rea Renee

Rea Renee is pen name of self-published author of historical romance. Always love, but sometimes history is darker than sugar-coated stories.  Rea's stories are dark, adventurous, and captivating. Sign up for her newsletter and receive advance notice of sales, contests, new releases and more:  http://eepurl.com/brhxVb

Book preview

Prologue

September 1856

LUKE RUBBED HIS EYES as sage burned in the fire pit.

This will mark you for the journey quest to find your spirit animal. His father waved an eagle feather over the billowing smoke.

A journey quest was more than superstition, more than a warrior receiving their adult name. The lucky would return with their spirit animal dwelling inside them.

Remember. His father smiled. When the world was new, a flood was predicted, not of water, but of magic and spirit. Our people were nature. Our ancestors merged their spirit with an animal to save them from the wrath of the Great Spirit. Once, long ago, we did not revere nature as now, so the Great Spirit was going to destroy all animals. We begged for mercy, but it was the sacrifice of part of their human spirit that our prayers were heard. Few and fewer can change now and only into one animal. At first, the great shaman Noah and his sons and daughters could change into many.

Luke’s father, Blade, could change into a black panther, his grandfather a wolf. Contrary to beliefs, very few white men bitten by a shifter would become one. A wolf attacked Luke’s great-grandfather and he became one too.

No one knows who, when, or how the Great Spirit will bestow blessings. Blade set down the eagle feather. Wrinkles lined around his eyes. For our kind, it usually makes itself evident at puberty and on your first vision quest. It is sacred.

I understand. Excitement coursed through him. This was his chance. Both his father and grandfather had strong totem animals and shifter abilities. It was his turn. His sister, Red Feather, had already taken the vision quest and said she came back with nothing but her head hurting. Maybe it was only the sons who were chosen now. His great aunt, Little-Crow couldn’t shift and neither could Stands-In-Wind, his dad’s sister.

Your mother and I will return in three days. Until then, fast, pray, whatever the spirit leads you to do.

I’m ready.

If it was up to his mother, he’d have to wait another summer. All his friends had done their vision quests years before, but his mother was worried about wild animals and wouldn’t allow him to take his quest until he was sixteen winters old.

His father nodded then stood. Whatever happens, you make me proud. Without looking back, his dad disappeared down the mountain.

The sun peeked through clouds and Luke settled himself down under the Indian blankets woven in blues and golds. His parents’ colors. Blue for his father’s eyes and gold for his mother’s hair. Luke’s own eyes were dark like his grandfather’s. Red Feather, his sister, had brown eyes and auburn hair. Even her skin was paler than his. He could pass for Cheyenne, but his sister looked too white.

Overhead, a raven cawed. The scent of the sage made his eyes heavy. Last night, he couldn’t sleep at all, the excitement barreling through him. Now that he was here and alone, sleep beckoned. His eyes drifted closed and dreams galloped toward him.

High and higher he flew as his body became heavier. Through the clouds, over the mountains, and still he flew. He circled a fort and squinted to make out which one this was. Fort Lyon. Sprawled across the terrain were hundreds of Indian people. Some rode, many others walked. Luke counted them...eight hundred. One of the figures at the front of the crowd, he recognized from his travels with his father. Chief Black Kettle, but older than Luke knew him now, and beside him rode an Arapaho chief. He carried the United States flag and a white one underneath it.

They wanted peace with the white men, with the soldiers? His talons landed on the thatched roof as he listened. In the corner away from the approaching natives, three men slugged down whisky and two spit out tobacco every other sip.

Those damn Indians are always multiplying like vermin.

We need to squish the eggs and nests.

Yes, kill them all.

Luke’s heart hammered in his chest. This was a set up. Many soldiers here, no doubt, had the same view as these men. They were like locusts, killing everything in their path, leaving devastation in their wake. He had to warn the chiefs. Warn his father and grandfather whose camp was less than a day’s ride away.

I MUST SPEAK WITH WHITE Hawk. Luke pushed past the villagers. Even though he’d only been gone a few hours, his flight as the raven was too precise to merely be a dream.

Come into my tepee. The medicine man gestured. His white hair contrasted with his tanned, wrinkled skin. Did you find something unusual on your vision quest? A totem animal that merged its spirit with yours and allowed you to shift?

No, I had a dream. In it I was a raven, yes, but nothing was the same. He sat cross-legged in front of White Hawk who packed his pipe, lit it, then gestured for Luke to continue. More Cheyenne and Arapaho than I can count marched to Fort Lyon. I recognized Chief Black Kettle among them, but he was different than he is now...older. How else could he describe it? The Chief was his father’s age, yet in the dream, he’d been closer to his grandfather or White Hawk’s age even.

It was not a dream. Smoke puffed out of his pipe. And you’ve fulfilled your vision quest. Have you chosen your new name?

But I-I failed. I wasn’t supposed to come down the mountain for several days, but I had the dream and left immediately to come and tell you. We must warn Chief Black Kettle. I know the soldiers will not honor any treaty with them. I heard them talking, they hate us.

Failed? But my boy, you’ve been gone for over a week.

A sinking sensation hit Luke’s gut. He’d been out for days? The ground beneath him swayed.

Here, drink this. White Hawk shoved a waterskin in his hands.

Without thinking, Luke downed the contents. Metallic and sweetness mingled on the back of his tongue. What is that?

An herbal remedy for all who have been honored during their vision quest with their shifter animal. He patted Luke’s knee. Finish it all. It will restore your body, mind, and spirit. You’ve not had anything to eat or drink in days except what you did in your animal form.

The truth rang through him. He was not a wolf or panther or even a bear like the other members of his family, he was a damn bird. I’m a raven shifter. His voice lacked excitement. Why couldn’t his animal be big and powerful?

We honor the raven in our tribe. Some consider him a trickster. White Hawk shook his head. "But to us, he is honored for his shape-shifting. Raven is called on when visions need to be clearer. What the physical eye can see might not be the truth or the whole of it. The raven knows what is real and not. Foremost, it is a bearer of magic, an omen, a messenger from the Great Spirit. It only comes to those who are worthy of the knowledge, of the message it brings.

Luke shrugged. It’s not as powerful as other creatures. It’s just a bird.

Not just a bird. White Hawk held up a finger. But something more. A seer. You saw the future. Now you must choose your new name. Your childhood name of Running Fox must be tossed aside as you’ve entered manhood.

A foreseer? If he saw the future in his dream, vision, whatever it was, did that mean it would come to pass no matter what he did? He had to try. He’d tasted death and blood in the soldiers’ words and in their eyes. If he was the only chance his people had to escape the massacre he sensed brewing, then so be it. Even if it was in the form of a bird. Call me Ókohke-Mâhta'sóoma, Raven-Shadow.

Chapter One

Lydia

April 1864

Don’t you think this dress is too short for the party tomorrow? Lydia twirled around. James, are you paying attention to me?

Her brother set down his rifle, and the rag he was polishing it with, across his lap. I think you’ll be the most gracious lady there like you always are.

You’re just saying that ’cause you’re my brother. She was already eighteen and any suitors she might have had, abandoned her when they realized she towered over them. Having too short of a hem on her dresses didn’t help much either. If her being tall didn’t scare all the men away, having no money would. It was only through James’ work at Fort Lyon that gave them this two bedroom cabin with a small kitchen and an outhouse in the back. At least her garden on the small patch of land would bring in food. She wished she could do more. And a rich husband would fix that.

I’d say it even if I wasn’t related to you. Anywhere you go, Lydia, you shine. I don’t know why you followed me here to Colorado. I could’ve sent you half my paycheck and you could’ve gotten a roommate in Virginia to share your expenses.

They’d never been apart before. No. You’re risking your life to protect people, the least I could do is be here to help you. Until he found a wife and she kicked her out. Then where would she go? It had been just her and her brother for the last decade, him doing all kinds of odd jobs and insisting she went to school during the day instead of cooking, ironing, and whatever work she could find. At night, he’d have her show and tell him everything she learned.

It’s not fair that the Sergeant gave you such a tiny piece of land. That dark haired soldier got twice the amount of acreage.

Lydia, he said in a warning tone. I’ve everything I need right here.

Maybe she was going about this all wrong. If her brother found a wife, she could be kind and let Lydia stay here. Once they had children, Lydia could babysit and James would have to expand the cabin. Take what was due to him, for once.

Tomorrow she’d scope out about the dance. Find and talk with young women and find someone who would be a good fit. Then convince her brother to dance with a stranger. She might have more luck finding her own spouse.

Don’t stay up too late, you’ll need your beauty sleep for tomorrow’s dance. He winked.

She stuck her tongue out and threw a pillow at him. And don’t forget you’ll owe me a dance.

THE NEXT DAY CREPT by slower than a three-legged turtle. Lydia frowned as she watched the sun that never seemed to move across the sky. Why couldn’t it be evening time already? She trudged to the river and gathered up a bucket of water. Dipping her hands into the cool river, she splashed her face. Then the feeling of someone watching her made a chill race through her.

Slowly she turned, the knife her brother made her keep in her boot, now ready in her hand. Scanning the grassy slopes, a movement to her left sent her legs trembling. A dark silhouette.

Who’s there? I’ve got a weapon. With her frame and long legs, she was a fast runner. She could race back to the cabin and get the pistol James left behind the loose brick in the fireplace mantel.

A cluster of feathers rose and Lydia stumbled back. It was only a raven. The bird flew in circles over her, then landed on the bank, tilting its head to the side as it studied her.

You scared me. She replaced the knife in her boot. Next time, don’t sneak up on a person like that. Someone could think you were an Indian and shoot you.

The bird ruffled its feathers, then tore up through the sky.

Was it something she said? She shrugged and trudged up the path to the cabin with the water sloshing over the bucket.

Hours later, she tapped her foot while her brother struggled to fix his hair. She wore a scarlet dress that was form-fitting and cut off at her ankles, but she hoped her boots laced tight would keep the length from being too noticeable. Maybe if she hunched?

Aren’t you ready yet? We’re going to be late, she said for the fifth time and part of her believed her brother stalled just to irritate her.

I’ve got to make a good impression. Captain said I might move up in the ranks quickly if I continue to obey orders. Besides, isn’t it a bad omen to arrive too early?

You’re making that up, but I would like to get there before the dancing is done. And maybe this time someone would dance with her. Too many men didn’t like their women to be as tall as them or taller.

Don’t forget your mask. Who are you supposed to be again?

Red riding hood, she curtsied. Of course.

You’ll be the prettiest one there, just watch out for the big bad wolf.

She slapped his arm, I won’t have to worry about that, with my handsome brother, the pirate, and his sword there to protect me.

There will probably be a dozen pirates there tonight who would do your bidding. He strapped the sword with an azure sash around his waist, then donned a plain black mask, and pirate hat. Shall we? He held out his arm for her.

Taking his arm, they strolled to their horses, mounted, then turned toward the fort. She urged her horse faster. How many people would be there? Would they come from all the nearby towns? And there was bound to be more men than women with all the soldiers in attendance. She resisted bursting into song at thinking about how she might meet her future husband tonight. Someone who would love her no matter her height or lack of station.

Outside the fort, soldiers accepted their horses and led them to a pasture nearby to graze and rest. Lydia bounced on her toes as James handed over their invitations to the doorman. Inside, a waltz drifted through the doorway, and she squeezed past James to enter.

Careful not to go off into the woods now. Her brother’s voice floated behind her.

She laughed and glanced around the room. Knowing him, he’d stand in a corner and talk to his buddies all night. No, she needed to get him to socialize with the opposite sex. If she couldn’t get him to talk with the girl she picked, she’d make him dance at least. A trade. Oh this was going to be fun.

A group of soldiers spoke in whispers as they surveyed the dance floor and the women patiently waiting for someone to ask them to waltz. If it were up to her, she’d grab a woman in one hand and a man in the other and then push them onto the dance floor together. The way these people acted was like they were waiting to be slaughtered.

Meeting the eyes of one of the men, Lydia smiled. Thankfully, the man returned it, then crossed the room to her.

May I have this dance? the young private who didn’t reach her shoulder asked. He was dressed as a farmer and had painted freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Of course. She dipped into a bow, then joined him in a waltz. While they danced, her gaze