MOVING

Hey All My Friends, 
I can't maintain two sites at this time, so I am asking all of you wonderful folks to join me at my other blog http://www.ayawalksfar.com   I would really miss you if you don't come on over and join me! 
With my murder mystery soon-to-be-released and some other obligations, trying to run two sites is simply too much. So thanks for being really great blog-readers and friends. I look forward to seeing you at Aya Walksfar, Author.    

Black Wind Part 3

Madelaine brushed her short, brown hair, neatly placed the brush on the dresser then crossed the room and pulled back the covers of the bed in Mrs. Hanson's guestroom.  She laid down and, staring up at the ceiling, linked her hands behind her head.  Tears prickled her eyes as she thought about Grandmother.  She'd never seen her Grandmother cry but when she heard about the slaughter men and Black Wind, several big tears rolled down her wrinkled cheek before she took a deep breath and blinked hard.  Madelaine still felt that warm glow right in the middle of her chest from Grandmother's words to her.

"Madelaine, you're just like your momma and daddy.  Brave and good.  You've made this old woman proud."

                                                BLACK WIND (PART 2)

            Gray trunks of alder trees cast dancing shadows across the faint deer track leading up Shy Bear Mountain.  Black Wind voluntarily slowed to a fast walk as they started up another steep incline.  “Getting tired, girl?  Whoa.  Let me slide down and walk a bit.” 

           

            By the time they reached the place where the deer trail cut across the abandoned logging road, sweat trickled down Madelaine’s cheeks.  She stopped, wiped the moisture away and drew in a deep breath.  She turned and looked into the horse’s dark eyes. “Think you could carry me some more?” 

           

            Black Wind snuffled the girl’s long hair and Madelaine could almost swear she was saying, “Yes, I can.”  She knew it for a fact when she led the filly to an old stump. Black Wind sidled right up alongside the stump so she could clamber up on the horse’s bare back. 

            The trees were dragging the moon down by the time the pair reached Mrs. Hanson’s backyard up at the backend of Cougar Hollow. 

            A deep-throated growl rumbled from the darker shadows by the back porch.  Black Wind spooked, jumping sideways but Madelaine’s hand stroking her sweaty neck settled the filly. 

            “Who’s there?”  The tone left no doubt that the speaker expected an answer, and quick. 

            “It’s me, Madelaine, Mrs. Hanson.  Mrs. Tyler’s granddaughter.”  She called softly. 

            A flashlight clicked, the beam sweeping over Madelaine and Black Wind as Mrs. Hanson stepped from the cover of the porch and the pines that grew tall on one side of it.  “Madelaine Tyler! What in tarnation are you doin’ out gallivatin’ around at this hour of the night?  Your grandmother’d be worried sick if she knew.”  As Mrs. Hanson drew closer, she exclaimed,  “Why on earth are you ridin’ Black Wind?” 

                                                  BLACK WIND
         At twelve years old, Madelaine Jacobs never thought she would steal a horse.  But at the time, it seemed the only logical thing to do.