Ham or turkey leftovers. Does it really matter? #MFRWauthor

Grilled ham and cheeseThis year I made a big, fat boo-boo. I had in mind to fix a ham for dinner. Ham is something we rarely have, so it sounded appealing—a treat in this year that has been no treat. So I bought a ham. Jack, at nearly the same time, said that a local grocery had turkey thighs and breasts on sale. Since he doesn’t like white meat and I don’t care for dark, and there are only two of us, so we didn’t need a whole bird, that seemed like a great solution. Without conscious thought, we ended up with both turkey and ham for Thanksgiving dinner. Talk about a plethora of goodness! We’ll have a little of each for dinner and then I will cut and package the rest to use in leftovers or to freeze.

So for ham leftovers, I’ll make bean soup, ham and potato soup, Turkey pot pieham and mac & cheese, and of course sandwiches. But with the turkey I’ll make turkey pot pie. Here’s my recipe, give or take. I kinda make it up as I go along but this is a reasonable facsimile. I make two—one with white meat and one with dark. I know, I know. I spoil the man but what can I say? I love him.

TURKEY POT PIE
Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F

Filling:

  • 3 cups (or so) of cubed turkey
  • 4 carrots (peel if you like. I don’t) roughly chopped
  • 1 med onion, roughly chopped
  • 2-3 celery sticks, sliced
  • 8 oz mushrooms, sliced
  • 1 cup peas

Sauce:

  • 6 Tbl butter
  • 6 Tbl flour
  • 4 cups chicken/turkey stock
  • 1-2 cups milk, heated until warm

Crust:
Enough dough for top and bottom crust (you’ll have too much for a regular old pie plate. I use a large casserole dish for the white meat pie and a pie plate for the dark meat. This recipe makes a lot!)

Instructions:

  1. Sauté celery, carrots, and onion until soft. Add mushrooms and continue until they give up their liquid.
  2. Add salt and pepper to taste if desired. I don’t add either but that’s just us.
  3. Set aside.
  4. Melt butter in a 4 quart pan.
  5. Add flour and stir for about two minutes, cooking the flour and making a roux.
  6. Add stock, whisking as you do to avoid lumps.
  7. Just when the sauce starts to thicken, add milk and whisk until thick and smooth.
  8. Remove from heat.
  9. Add the peas.
  10. Add remaining vegetables and meat and stir to mix. (This is where I divide the mixture to add the different types of meat.)
  11. In your baking dish(es), place the bottom pie crust. (Okay, I’ll confess to using Pillsbury…)
  12. Pour in the filling with sauce and top with the second crust. Crimp the edges closed. Slice two or three holes to release steam.
  13. Bake for about 30-40 minutes, until the crust turns golden and some of the filling shows around the slits.
  14. Let cool 10-15 minutes and then spoon out into a bowl.

I cover with foil and refrigerate for several days. It gets better and better!

What is your favorite holiday leftover recipe?

Hoping your holidays were–and continue to be–wonderful!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

KU books highlighted in N.N. Light’s Kindle Unlimited Bookish Event!

Kindle Unlimited Bookish EventI’m so happy to be part of this new N.N. Light promotional event! Today they’re featuring my book Passionate Destiny.

Enter to win! One person will win an e-book bundle of all 40 books featured in the Kindle Unlimited Bookish Event: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db775085

The event is open Internationally and runs November 10 – 15, 2020. The winner will be drawn on November 18, 2020. Good luck!

Passionate Destiny by Dee S. KnightDr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies at a small New Jersey college, is a woman who confidently knows who she is and what she expects of life. Until she loses her teaching position and her well-ordered life gets turned upside down. Then, in a subtle stroke of whimsy, fate tosses her a gift in an historic home and property in Virginia.

Harboring visions of Gone With the Wind, she determines to use River Peace as a temporary reprieve from her troubles. Images of Tara quickly evaporate when she arrives to discover the reality of her inheritance, however.

River Peace has history, grace and style going for it. After only one night, Margaret discovers that it also has a ghost. She’s visited by a male spirit from the time of the War Between the States, who knows how to make a woman feel special. And very loved.

Aaron Belton meets Margaret when she first arrives in Virginia. He’s renowned for historic renovations on a multitude of properties, but he’s got a special place in his heart for River Peace. He and his family believe the property always should have belonged to them. In fact, Aaron will do almost anything to make that happen. When his passion for the house changes to a passion for the house’s owner, Aaron’s as surprised as anyone. Can he gain both, the woman and the house? To do so, he’ll have to face a spectral being.

And his own destiny.

What the heck is Women’s Lit, anyway? #MFRWauthor

Is women’s lit a sub-genre of romance? That’s this week’s question.

Writing women's litSomeone asked me a while back if my book, Burning Bridges, was romance or women’s lit? She said the description sounded like women’s lit, and she doesn’t review that genre. Gosh, this was something I hadn’t considered before. I thought of my book as romance. I think of women’s lit as centered around a woman and how she solves her life problems, but with elements of romance. In fact, so many books I read as “women’s lit” were actually (in my mind) romances. The woman’s problem was so often being alone (after a long-term breakup or a failed marriage) and finding a new partner while solving her problems. I fail to see how that is different from most romances.

So maybe if the book is about a woman (or women) andPlanning a women's lit book there is very little romance or bonding with someone else? Is that women’s lit? Goodreads lists The Joy Luck Club, The Time Traveler’s Wife, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Bridget Jones’ Diary and others as women’s lit books. So, okay, I see the difference. These are not considered romances (although maybe Bridget Jones disagrees?), and they are by and about women. But they follow a romance arc and many of these books do end with a love bond that provides a HEA, so… I’m still kind of confused. I will take a firm stand however, and say that true women’s fiction is not a sub-genre to romance but that some books cross over into both genre. There. That should settle the question.

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist (that’s maybe women’s lit)
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Please! Desire Me Again… Anthology of second chances

Desire Me Again anthologyThe hopeless romantic believes that a soulmate exists for each of us. That there is one person who makes us feel how good it is to love them. For some couples, things trigger them to push that love away. They find out too late they’ve lost true-love. Sometimes genuine love deserves a second-chance at the happy ending that eluded them the first time.

Desire Me Again is an eclectic assortment of short stories exploring a second-chance at love. The collection is as diverse as the authors who wrote them. Here’s a chance to read the work of talented writers you may not have read before. Within these pages, there are blends of tender, often moving and thought-provoking stories.

Featuring: Annabel Allan, Patricia Elliott, R.M. Olivia, Carol Schoenig, Virginia Wallace, Gibby Campbell, Dee S. Knight, Alice Renaud, Jan Selbourne, Zia Westfield

MFRW Book HooksSecond Chance blurb:

Sandy Henderson had been a sweet, wholesome girl in her first year of college, sure of herself and totally in love with her high school sweetheart, Tom Pritchard. Then something happened that shattered her dreams, her confidence, her will to live. When she meets Tom again many years later, she resists taking a chance on love because of her secret, but Tom won’t give up on her. On them. Or will he, once she tells him about her past?

Buy link:
Amazon US https://amzn.to/34NstC7

Second Chance by Dee S. KnightSecond Chance Excerpt:
Cafeterias are big deals in the South–or they used to be. Going out to a good cafeteria was always a treat to my aunts and grandmother.

“Tom,” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. Like everyone he knew in their town, she stretched the one-syllable word into two. Tah-um. Until he’d joined the Corps he didn’t really know what people meant when they talked about southern accents. Now he considered the soft consonants and extended vowels charming. Part of being home.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tom saw Sandy stick her head around the kitchen wall. “Hey,” he called out to her. Then concentrating on her mother, he held out a bouquet. “These are for you, Mrs. Henderson.”

She flushed like a schoolgirl when she took the flowers. “How did you know that tulips are my favorite?”

He hadn’t.  He’d asked the florist to put together something cheerful that an older lady might like. He hoped the brightly colored blooms might bring a smile to Sandy, too.

“Just a guess,” he answered.

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Henderson backed up and held the door wide.

He stepped into a living room that had seen very little change in the last two decades. It was neat but held a slight whiff of shabbiness. Mrs. Henderson would probably call it comfortable rather than shabby. Tom wondered what Sandy thought of it.

Finally, the woman in question emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. The night was warm and she looked as though she’d just finished doing dishes. Her hair was damp and stuck to her forehead, and a light sheen of sweat clung to her cheeks. His groin tightened when he noticed that her shorts hugged her hips and her sleeveless blouse was slightly dampened, too, showing her white bra through the thin fabric. His mind filled with ways he could make her body slick with sweat, the ways he could make her much more than warm.

“I know I said we should try to get together before I leave, but I didn’t actually mean tonight.”

“I’m sorry to barge in, but I wanted to ask you to dinner tomorrow night.” Before Sandy could form “No, thank you,” as her lips where shaping up to do, he interjected, “And your mom, too.”

Her mother’s eyes widened and she slapped the hand holding the tulips to her chest. “Oh, my! Sandra, we have a beau!”

Sandy smiled. Then she turned to him. “I don’t know. We have so much to do here.”

“Sandra, please. It will be so much fun. I haven’t had dinner out since your father last took me, and that’s been…at least three years.” She turned to Tom. “Could we go to that cafeteria up on the highway?”

Tom laughed. “We can go anywhere you want.”

Mrs. Henderson snapped her head back toward Sandy. He knew the minute Sandy gave in. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she smiled at her mother. “If Tom is willing to make every other man in town jealous by escorting the lovely Henderson women out to dinner, who am I to stand in his way?”

Eating out at home—yum! #MFRWauthor

Chinese foodWhile I know that eating healthy is best for all of us, and it’s darn hard to eat healthy and not cook the food yourself, I still like food that someone else cooks, serves up, and lets me eat at home without all the hubbub of preparation and clean-up. Plus, timing is always right. There’s no having the potatoes done at one time and the meat done at another. If necessary, I can stick the carry out container in to be zapped and have everything hot and ready at once.

Jack and I live in a pretty small town, with eateries at a premium. There are plenty of fast food establishments, but few actual restaurants to place a to-go order with. And while I love my Quarter Pounders with Cheese and fries from McD’s, sometimes a girl has to have “real” food. So for that I have two favorites to order and bring home for dinner.

I know it’s a chain, but I like Panda Express. Our town must have thirty Chinese restaurants (none of them deliver, by the way—go figure) but of the several we have tried, we just like Panda Express. Nothing spectacular yet nothing disappointing. However, Jack isn’t that crazy about having Chinese too often. Let’s face it, it’s bad for calories, for blood sugar, for carbs, for a lot of things. So, PE is a treat, not a regular carry-out.

Another place we have in town is a pretty good Italian Italian foodrestaurant, and their chicken parmesan is fantastic! For that dish alone, I’d have to say that’s our favorite and most used takeaway restaurant. When things were locked down pretty tightly, we could call in our order and they would bring it out to the car. Yummy!

As Jack says, we’re stuck in a rut and we like it. Once we find something we like, we’ll keep with it forever. That goes for carry-out food too, it seems.

What is your favorite restaurant food to eat at home?

Secrets that change a lifetime #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

 Desire Me Again anthologyBlurb:
Second Chance in Desire Me Again
Sandy Henderson had been a sweet, wholesome girl in her first year of college, sure of herself and totally in love with her high school sweetheart, Tom Pritchard. Then something happened that shattered her dreams, her confidence, her will to live. When she meets Tom again many years later, she resists taking a chance on love because of her secret, but Tom won’t give up on her. On them. Or will he, once she tells him about her past?

Buy link:
Amazon US

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Sandy Henderson, as I live and breathe. Can that be you?”

Sandy looked up and up, into the richest, deepest brown eyes she’d ever known. They affected her just as they had since she was fifteen, sending tingles and warmth all through her. Fifteen had been fifteen years ago, but two lifetimes. When she first fell in love with Thomas Pritchard she’d enjoyed an age of innocence she barely remembered, but one he brought home now with just one look, one smile.

“Tom. Gosh, it’s so good to see you.” Sandy didn’t really mean that, but it was the polite thing to say. In reality, she’d hoped she could slip into town, take care of her dad’s estate and pack up her mother’s things for the move back to Idaho without meeting anyone from her former life.

Still, of everyone she hadn’t wanted to run into, Tom Pritchard. Her stupid heart skipped a beat. It was hard seeing him, remembering him. Remembering herself.

“You, too. I could hardly believe it was you. What’s it been? Since graduation?”

“Yes, I think so. Hard to believe, huh?” So hard to believe she’d ever been that happy, naïve girl who’d graduated top in their 300-student class and skipped off to college in Florida, thinking life would always be so free and simple.

“It is hard to believe.” Tom’s eyes studied her face. He hadn’t looked at her as so many men had for years, that up and down leer, like a hungry lion scoping out where he planned to start eating the gazelle. No, his gaze sought out her depths, her secrets.

“Are you back in town for a while?”

“No,” she said, subtly moving the grocery cart between them. It served as a shield from his examination and also as a layer of protection. The years had taught her that men—all men, even those who seemed friendly and safe—were not to be trusted.

“Dad died last year—”

“I remember. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks. Mom isn’t really able to stay alone anymore, and she’s agreed to move closer to me. I came ho—back to move her.” She’d almost said that she’d come home. Whitley, North Carolina hadn’t been home for a very long time. Sometimes life here seemed like a dream.

“Ah. I’m going to miss your mom. Not that I saw her all that often.”

“She told me that you would come by every now and again to see if she needed anything. That was nice. She appreciated it, and so do I.”

Tom shrugged. “It wasn’t anything.” He looked into her cart. “You don’t have anything that needs to be refrigerated”—he held up his handbasket—“and neither do I. Want to grab a cup of coffee and catch up? The Whitley Diner is just a couple of doors down and has the best coffee in town. My treat.” He smiled. Sandy had to grab a breath at the sight.

“I really can’t,” she said. “I told Mom I’d be home for lunch. But thanks. Let’s get together before I leave.”

Holding her hand up in the way country people have of saying hello or goodbye, she spun around and headed for the checkout. She hadn’t finished shopping, but she’d come back later. Or maybe she’d head to the Piggly Wiggly over in Petersburg, a few towns over, in order to avoid running into Tom again. Or anyone she knew from her previous life.

Whitley had grown to a town of over forty thousand. How could she have met up with someone she knew in the first week she’d been back? And Tom, of all people.

Getting her mother packed and on the road to Idaho couldn’t happen soon enough

Second Chance by Dee S. Knight

Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Ebook or “real” book? #MFRWauthor

There was a time, in the long ago, when our only choice was to read “real” books. That is to hold an actual thing bound as a hardback or paperback. We had to hold the book open—sometimes to press it to keep it open—and keep it at the proper reading height. Sometimes those tomes were heavy. Sometimes the binding was such that it took real effort to keep the book open and we creased the spines. If we dropped the book, we lost our place. We couldn’t easily prop it open to read while we ate, or we had to hold the book open one-handed if we wanted to drink a cup of coffee. Those days ended for me when hubby bought me an ebook reader for Christmas. I’ve hardly had a better gift!

The reader was made by RCA. It had a handle for easy handling and a backlit screen. I’ll admit, I sometimes get new technology and I think about it for awhile before I start using it. Not this ebook reader! I had it up and running and looking for places to buy ebooks right away. Back then, Powell’s in Portland was just about the only place, other then through RCA itself. Since then I’ve bought another reader like that one when the company sold it, and two Kindles.

We used to move a lot. I remember times when we had boxes upon boxes ofOne Woman Only by Dee S. Knight on tablet books to lug around. Then you need places to put them. Now I can carry the equivalent of those boxes on one Kindle. Granted, actual books won’t run out of power in the middle of a chapter and have to be recharged, but the convenience of my Kindle outweighs the inconvenience.

People say they like to hold a book in their hands. That they love the smell of the paper. (They’ve obviously never “smelled” the paper when the basement floods and boxes of books stored there have gotten soaked.) I say, more power to them. I’m glad there are still real books available. Using a Kindle cookbook isn’t to my liking, so even I see a need for the real thing now and then. But for the most part? I’ll love and cherish my electronic book reader!

How about you?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

How did I get so attached?? #MFRWauthor

Using smart phonesWhen Jack and I lived in a small town in Virginia, we routinely drove in and out of Richmond and Charlottesville (50 miles and 35 miles respectively) for grocery shopping, plays, dinner, work, etc. and never gave a thought that we were driving those distances on two-lane country roads WITHOUT A DARN CELL PHONE. In fact, there weren’t any cell phones back then. Sure, the thought of breaking down crossed my mind, but houses weren’t spaced out too far, and I just figured I’d walk to one of them and call for help. Now that I have a cell phone? I can’t drive half a mile from home without panicking if I discover I’ve forgotten the phone. I’ve turned into a phone wuss, and I’m not proud of it.

For the longest time, I had a flip phone, long after Goggling on smart phonesmart phones were out. “You have the oldest phone of anyone I know,” a friend once told me. I smacked the lid down on the screen and said, “I use my phone for making calls. I don’t need all that stuff that comes on smart phones.” Sigh. Or for the naivete! Of course, as soon as I got a smart phone I set up weather, Google, a news app, and Solitaire. I am picking the phone up a hundred times a day to do something on it that doesn’t involve making a call.

I am happy to say that I don’t keep my phone with

me all the time. I’m not stuck to it. But every time I’m in one room and an alarm goes off or I receive a call on the phone in a different room, I curse the fact that I don’t have it stuck to me. My, how the mighty have fallen.

What about you? Are you a slave to your phone?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

I’m for the sunshine #MFRWauthor

I should qualify that title. I’m for the sunshine, if I can watch it from behind a window. I’m not fussy about where that window is—could be in the house or in the car or a restaurant or… You get the idea. Suffice it to say, like Scarlett, I’ve always been one to watch my complexion. Why? Because I burn in nothing flat. Plus, I’m not much of an outdoors person. Plus 2, sunshine means bugs. Flying bugs, crawling bugs, all kinds of bugs. Nope. Not for me. But I am happy to open the blinds and curtains and “Let the sunshine. Let the sunshine in, the sunshine in!” (Courtesy of the 7th Dimension)

But I have to admit, if there ever were times that I would love being out in the sunshine, it is during the fall. My favorite season, it always seems as though the sky is bluer, the breezes brisker, and the sun most welcome during the autumn. Maybe because we know winter is coming? At any rate, being outside in September, October, or November is a treat. I’ll take the sunshine then, thanks very much!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Charity Sunday: Help the children of the Lakota Sioux

Charity Sunday: Dee S. KnightHow Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


St. Joseph's Indian School

This month, I’d like you to know about St. Joseph’s Indian School. I probably never would have heard about St. Joseph’s except for my mother and aunt. They both contribute to the school as part of their tithing, and for years I’ve heard about what a good job the school does to help children of the Lakota Sioux nation. Maybe Mom and my aunt feel a kin to the Sioux because they live in Sioux City, or because they have family in Yankton, South Dakota, where we once attended a Sioux pow-wow, or maybe because Mom has genealogical records showing she has an ancestor who was Sioux. Whatever the reason, Indian children in the U.S. deserve our help. If you have doubts, just read any article about life on the reservations and you’ll see.

St. Joseph’s has taken on no small mission:
“St. Joseph’s is a Native American school dedicated to improving the quality of life for Lakota (Sioux) children and families. As an apostolate of the Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart, St. Joseph’s mission is to educate Native American children and their families for life — mind, body, heart and spirit. This mission drives our organization to educate and provide housing for over 200 Lakota (Sioux) children each year.

Child poverty and abuse are serious issues on Indian reservations. By supporting St. Joseph’s Indian School, you are helping Native American children in need reestablish pride in their culture by learning the Lakota language, studying Native American culture and healing the broken family circle from which they come.

Our organization provides an opportunity for Lakota (Sioux) children to escape extreme poverty and abuse when they attend St. Joseph’s Indian School.”

I hope you will comment and give your support to my support of this special Charity Sunday!


Maire, the SIsters O'Ryan by Jenna StewartMy ménage historical book, Maire, tells how a Hopi Indian and his best friend save Maire O’Ryan from a long and painful death on the desert—and how she steals their hearts.

Blurb:
Maire O’Ryan, an independent Carolinian bent on living life as she sees fit, is hurt on the Arizona desert, alone and miles from her colleagues. Her only comfort is the presence of an circling eagle above and the sense of a warm fur wrapped around her at night. After two days, delirium keeps her from knowing whether her rescuers are real or dreams. Either way, they’re delicious.

John Eagle and his best friend, Gus Brannigan were led to the white woman on the rock by John’s totem, the eagle, but he doesn’t know why. He understands only that he’s now responsible for the green-eyed beauty. When a crisis erupts, John is surprised by Maire’s determination to come with him and Gus as they cross the desert in search of a murderer. Long before their search ends, the men commit their hearts and bodies to the woman. But does she reciprocate?

Excerpt:
John Eagle had known when he followed his spirit that he would find something unexpected and special at the end of the flight. That’s the way it always happened when he flew with his totem. But he had never imagined he would find a woman, a beautiful white woman about to die from thirst and snakebite.

Augustus Brannigan, Istaka, Coyote Man, as John thought of him, was John’s best friend. He knelt beside the woman and felt her wrist. “John, we have to get her some help.”

John stilled his mind so he could feel what was right. Looking up, he caught sight of his kindred spirit, the golden eagle, soaring high in the sky.

Gus sat back on his heels and pushed his hat back with his thumb. “I wonder how long she’s been out here.”

“Days.”

Gus looked up, brows raised. “How do you know?”

John shrugged. He couldn’t explain it to a non-Indian. Even a man as close to him as a brother, like Gus, wouldn’t understand that an eagle had appeared in his dream last night and indicated that he should come to this spot on the mesa. Just now he sensed that the eagle had watched the woman for two days. Why she was so important, he didn’t know. But coming here and rescuing her meant he assumed responsibility for her. On some basic level, they belonged to each other because of his act. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted that. Life already held enough complications.

“We’ll take her to Bacavi,” he said.

Gus expressed surprise. “You don’t think we should take her to that group of researchers? That’s probably where she’s from.”

John looked up at the sky again. The eagle swooped toward the ground and then reversed course to fly up and toward the north, toward Bacavi.

“No.”

It was time for Gus to shrug. “We can send word to them. And your village is a mite closer.”

John strode to where they’d left their horses and brought his back to where the woman lay, still unconscious. He jumped astride the saddleless horse. “Hand her up, will you, Gus?”

His friend slid one of his arms under her shoulders and the other under her knees and scooped her off the rock surface. Turning, he lifted her to John, who fit her in front of him.

“She’s a tiny thing, and light as a snowflake,” Gus said. “She wouldn’t have lasted out here much longer.”

John agreed. The woman’s head fell onto his chest, and his arms surrounded a body so slight he hardly noticed she sat there. He nudged his horse into a walk. Augustus went to his animal and climbed into the saddle. Without another word, the two slowly rode off the rock and away from the slot canyon where they’d found the nearly dead white woman.

Once on the desert floor, they turned north and broke into a trot and then a gallop. Bacavi lay about two miles away on the third mesa of Hopi land. They had given the woman a little water and hopefully released the venom from the snakebite. She should be fine until the shaman could look at her. Then his sister and mother would care for her until he could figure out why his spirit guide had led him to her.

“Don’t worry, little one. You’re safe now.” She stirred only a bit, snuggling against his chest. Was it her breathing he felt on his chest or the rapid beat of his heart, having her near? Either one thrilled him. Either one scared the shit out of him.

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