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  WINSLOW'S WEB

  Jeanie P. Johnson

  OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

  Native American books

  Across The River

  Apache Pride

  Beyond The Heart

  Broken Feather

  Cherokee Courage

  Gentle Savage

  Gedi Puniku (Cat Eyes)

  Kiowa White Moon

  Kiowa Wind Walker

  Little Flower

  No Price Too High

  Paiute Passion

  Papago Promise

  Plenty Proud

  Sagebrush Serenade

  Savage Land

  Shadow Hawk

  Shoshone Surrender

  Son of Silver Fox (sequel to Gentle Savage)

  White Hawk and the Star Maiden

  Within The Heart (Sequel to Beyond the Heart)

  Historical or Regency/Victorian Romance Books

  A Bride for Windridge Hall

  Defiant Heart

  Highroad

  Indentured

  The Deception

  Wild Irish Rose

  Contemporary Western Romance Books

  Georgie Girl

  Grasping at Straws

  Mattie

  Passion’s Pride

  Single-handed Heart

  Historical Western Romance Books

  Elusive Innocents

  20th Century Historical Romance Books

  Italy Vacation

  Moments of Misconception

  Radcliff Hall

  Reluctant Flapper

  Samuel’s Mansion

  Taxi Dancer

  Action and Adventure Mystery Romance Books

  Ghost Island

  Holding On

  Payback

  Futuristic Action and Adventure Romance Books

  Chosen

  Pony Up

  Project Rat Pack

  Surviving

  The Division

  The Dominion

  The Mechanism

  Time travel/Reincarnation Romance Books

  Egyptian Key

  Letters From The Grave

  Seekers

  Seekers Two

  Seekers Three

  The Locked Room

  The Vortex-book One

  Non Fiction Books

  A Collection of short stories (some true)

  Chief Washakie (short history of Shoshoni Chief)

  Dream Symbols Made Easy (how to analyze dreams)

  Peaches (inspirational)

  The Prune Pickers (my childhood)

  Whimper (true story of racial conflicts)

  Children’s Picture Book

  Dandy The Horse

  Monster In My Closet

  The Hen Mrs. Cackle

  This is a work of fiction and all characters are out of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is unintentional.

  Story by

  Jeanie P. Johnson

  © Copyright 1995

  All rights reserved

  My dearest child, I have no song to give you.

  No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray,

  But ere I part, one lesson I shall leave you,

  For every day.

  Be brave young maid, and let who will be clever.

  Do noble things, not dream them all day long.

  And so make life, death, and that vast forever,

  One grand, sweet song.

  A Fare Well

  By Charles Kingsly

  CHAPTER ONE

  The capricious wind snatched at Katie's skirts with relentless fingers, as if trying to tear the hopelessly rain soaked material away from the young woman’s body. Torrents of stinging rain nettles flung themselves into her worried eyes, making it difficult to see well enough to keep her bewildered mount in check. Still, with a determination born out of exigency, the wind-whipped rider urged Shancy, forward. Trying, without much success to still her own anxieties, brought on by the unexpected storm, Katie cooed in a soothing tone to the mare. Disregarding Katie’s attempts at comforting her, Shancy continued tossing her head, and slinging long strands of rain drenched mane into Katie’s face with a sobering sting. The obstinate horse periodically planted both hooves stubbornly in front of her, affirming her reluctance to obey Katie's commands.

  Katie swore under her breath. Not a lady-like thing to do, she scolded herself, but this ill planned trip was turning into a disaster! She had never ridden her horse so far from her home in Windy Gates, nor in the middle of a storm before.

  A sudden bolt of lightning knifed through the unsuspecting sky, followed by the rumble of cannon-like thunder, which sent Shancy side stepping in a skittish maneuver that almost unseated her rider. The terrified mount reversed her direction, with a spin on her haunches, eager to return to the safety of her own barn. In spite of Shancy’s balking, Katie pulled at the wet slippery reins and turned the trembling animal back in their original direction. It took all the strength Katie could muster to persuade the sopping bulk of muscle and brawn to continue on down the rutted road, which took them farther and farther from the familiar comfort of Windy Gates.

  Katie patted Shancy's neck with a gloved hand. "Steady girl," she coaxed, though she found it hard to give comfort to her terrified horse when she, herself, was so badly in need of it.

  Fleetingly, she wondered if maybe it would be better to turn back, and follow her horse’s impulse to return to the safety of their home, but Katie had come too far to give up now. It couldn’t be much farther to Emerson Manor, she assured herself, as the icy rain trickled past the throat of her cape and soaked down the collar of her riding habit, adding to the chill that had already settled in her heart a few weeks earlier. Once she reached the Manor, perhaps she could get some answers. Answers she had never thought she would be searching for until now.

  Katie resisted a shiver, as she felt increasingly more apprehensive at finding herself in the inescapable storm before her journey to Emerson Manor, was even half accomplished. She had embarked towards her destination early enough, but ominous clouds began to dominantly ravage the peaceful blue sky, blotting out the sun and casting gloomy shadows over the moors.

  Her thoughts tugged longingly at the warm hearth she had left behind. She wished she were there now, sitting before a friendly dancing fire listening to the rain play drum rolls pleasantly on the roof, while she was comfortable and warm inside. Her last glimpse of that beloved home hung vividly like a homing beacon in her mind’s eye.

  Katie had lived with her mother for as long as she could remember, in the quaint nondescript cottage on the outskirts of the small village of Windy Gates. Now her thoughts lingered fondly on her cherished childhood home with the age-old well standing as sentinel out front, where she had hoisted up many a bucket of water for her mother. Nostalgically, she recalled the red ivy, which blanketed the front of the small woodland cottage sending spindly fingers of vines clear up to the attic window. The white oak in its towering splendor spread its majestic branches over the thatched rooftops, as if protecting her humble home from any pending danger. Katie remembered, almost sadly, how she used to play in those branches as a child. That was so very long ago now.

  A few months earlier, the death of Katie's mother had swept into Katie’s life like a destructive monster, tearing at her very being. She had felt robbed, since she had no one, other than her mother for companionship. A feeling of misery settled over her. She would be faced with loneliness, unless she could discover if she had any family beyond her mother. And that was the very motivation, which had propelled her in the direction of Emerson Manor.

  Her Mother’s funeral had been a solemn affair, held in the small graveyard behind a crumbling stone chapel, which was no longer in use by the
village people. They now worshipped in a newly erected chapel closer to the little town, but since Katie had scant money, she could not afford to lay the remains of her mother in the well-kept grave yard surrounding the new edifice. Standing there, in the old grave plot near the ghostly rubble of stone was a painful reminder of how impoverished Katie had become.

  Since she and her mother had attracted no close friends, there were only a few regular customers from her mother’s dress shop assembled there. This shop had been their soul support, but the bills Katie was forced to pay at her mother’s death, soon ate up its assets. Other than those few customers, the aged minister was the only other person in attendance.

  Katie had listened with heavy heart, as the minister spoke, but none of his words succeeded in penetrating her brain. All she knew was that her mother was gone, and her future had no promise of a kindred soul who could feel her sorrow.

  She had watched, almost mesmerized, as the wind grabbed at the minister’s long black robes, and twisted them in its clutches. A few smattering drops of rain found their way from the heavens, creating dark splotches on the shoulder of his garment. The chilly spring wind, and cold wet drops had mirrored Katie’s spirit. The resounding thud of dirt being shoveled into the gaping hole of her mother’s grave, and falling upon the simple wooden coffin, still reverberated in her ears.

  In her suddenly empty world, Katie’s next dilemma was to find some answers. She became determined to seek out the only relative known to her. An uncle she had only met once. She was now determined to find her Uncle James, and discover if she had any other relatives. The deep desire to discover her roots, which her mother seemed to think was of little importance, now consumed her.

  Katie timidly requested information from the old minister and discovered that Emerson Manor, where she could begin looking for answers, was within a day’s ride from Windy Gates. With undaunted determination, she put a few dresses in her saddlebags. On an impulse, Katy grabbed the music box, her mother had given her as a child, which now was the only comfort left to her, and put it in the saddle bags as well, as she prepared for her departure.

  Now, Katie gave a shiver as the cold began to penetrate her wool cape, which relentlessly grabbed at her throat in a strangle grip, created by the wind tugging at its corners. It only made her all the more determined to reach Emerson Manor before nightfall. Pushing the memories of her mother’s death aside, she focused all of her attention on the road ahead.

  Katie’s worried eyes scanned the moors that loomed before her. The few solitary trees that dotted the landscape, hung sullen and heavy with raindrops, which weighed their new spring branches down, and spilled off drooping leaves onto the thistle and heather that scattered the rolling hills. Then a gust of wind suddenly pulled the branches in a forceful rain dance, flinging tree fingers into the air, and shaking the droplets away in a wet windy spray. In a blinding flash, the sky once again lit up, for one brief moment, casting all shadows from sight, and then crashed everything back into a shadowy gray just as quickly, with the clashing roar of trailing thunder.

  Katie felt Shancy’s tightening muscles beneath her. She jerked her attention back to her mount, and the journey before her. So intent was she on reaching her destination, as the shadows fell deeper, and the road was slowly being sucked up by rapidly approaching nightfall, she hardly noticed the rivers of mud forming in the road, or the sting of the rain in her face. She became so absorbed in controlling her frightened horse, that the clatter of carriage wheels, obscured by the noise of the storm, went unnoticed until the passing coach was almost upon her.

  Without warning, both Katie and her trembling mount were sprayed with a stream of cold muddy water. Shancy gave a scream of fright and reared up into the air, striking her front hooves against the sky and the rain.

  Before Katie could control the terrified animal, the mare broke into a frantic gallop, splattering Katie and herself even more as her hooves plowed through the puddles formed in the recesses of the road. Katie tried frantically to calm the frightened mare, her knuckles taut as she strained against the reins. The leather slippery beneath her rain soaked gloves. However, her struggle to gain control, only resulted in Shancy’s gain of speed thundering from her hooves and pulsating through both the horse and rider.

  They quickly overtook the carriage, which had caused the disaster, and Katie’s screams to the driver for help, were muffled by her heavy wet hair as the wind slammed it into her face, plastering the tangled strands against her skin, and blinding her vision.

  Shancy reared again at Katie's vain attempts to slow her, taking the bit in her teeth as she lunged forward pulling hard for more speed. Without warning, the horse’s hoof slammed into a hole in the road, and a piercing scream ripped from Shancy's throat as she was jerked to her knees, plummeting with an earth shattering thud in the slippery mud, heaving Katie from her back, in a sprawl of tangled clothes and hair.

  For a moment, Katie felt stunned and shaken. She lay still, dragging at her breath, which was knocked from her lungs as she landed. With great effort, she finally managed to raise her head and saw the mare, not far from her, quivering and struggling, flaying her legs desperately to get to her feet. Even at the distance, Katie could see the pain emanating from the horses eyes, as steam rose from her rain soaked body. She seemed to be pleading to Katie for help in mournfully high pitched neighing.

  "Shancy!" The name tore with a ragged gasp from Katie’s lips in an unrecognizable shriek. She swiped at the rivulets of muddy water on her face with one grimy gloved hand. It was then she saw the two men standing by the crippled horse. The door of the offending carriage stood ajar and the steaming team of horses was stamping impatiently, eager to be on their way.

  "You'll have to put the poor animal out of its misery." The words stung Katie’s ears. "I'll see to the girl." The impeccably well-dressed man in a now sodden great coat, turned towards Katie’s sprawled body.

  Katie reached forward, with one gloved hand helpless to catch their attention soon enough, as she watched in horror while the apparent coachman aimed a small pistol at Shancy's head. Katie screamed and struggled to get to her own feet.

  "No! No! Please don't shoot her!" Her pleading was in vain. The taller man was there at her side, holding her back with strong forceful hands.

  He took in Katie’s stricken face. "The horse can't be helped, Miss.” To Katie’s ears, the words fell in harsh unfeeling syllables. She could detect no trace of compassion in his deep refined voice. "You wouldn't want the beast to suffer would you?" he added in a softer tone.

  Before Katie could answer, a loud explosion rang through the air and she jolted at the sound, almost as though she herself had been shot, as the bullet found its mark. With widened eyes, she watched as Shancy shuddered. Then the horse lay quite still, as the steam continued to rise from her body.

  Katie flung her mud-soaked body against the arms that restrained her, trying vainly to escape and reach her horse. “You’ve killed my horse!” she shrieked in horror, as she relived the pain of losing her mother all over again when she realized that Shancy was gone.

  Ignoring her distraught protests, those same restraining arms swept her up suddenly in all her anger and indignation, and roughly deposited her in the waiting carriage, dumping her on the floor with little calculation or ceremony, as though the man was eager to be on his way without any consideration for her feelings.

  "There is nothing you can do for your horse now,” the man said quietly.

  But Katie’s outrage pounded with the echoing gunshot that still rang in her ears, drowning out his words as she struggled to descend from the coach. In her attempt, she kicked out at the apparent villain, but was sadly hampered by her heavy muddy riding habit.

  "Let me go!" she sobbed. "You odious man! You did not have to shoot her!" But the tall stranger, barring her escape, seemed unmoved by her sobbing, or kicking.

  The man who had actually shot Shancy under the other's orders had, with some difficulty, removed th
e saddle from the horses back. He slogged through the mud back to the carriage, grumbling under his breath, and slung the wet muddy saddle along with Katie's saddlebags, up top. The carriage swayed with a protesting groan as he mounted and climbed into the driver's seat.

  "I have retrieved her saddle sir," the driver informed Katie's captor. "I shall have the animal removed when the storm lets up," he added.

  "Thank you Daric.” To Katie, his voice sounded somewhat condescending. Then he grasped Katie's waist and placed her firmly upon the fine leather seat.

  Katie lunged for the door once again, but the tall stranger merely pushed her back onto the seat as he boarded the carriage to sit beside her, and with a splash and a shudder, the coach was precariously on its way again, wheels skidding on slippery, wet mud, causing the carriage to swerve, from time to time. She could hardly clamor over the man’s lap to make her escape, so thinking better of her impulse to force her way out, Katie moved to sit stiffly against the far wall of the compartment.

  Seated now, as far away from the distasteful companion as she possibly could, Katie occupied herself by glaring at the irritatingly perfect composure of his face. He seemed non-pulsed, as she fumed within, at his arrogance, which she believed showed no evidence of feeling or compassion for her plight. Indifferent to her turmoil, he seemed to ignore her presence altogether and gazed nonchalantly out of the carriage window with an air of dismissal, as though her presence in his carriage was of little concern to him. He, however, was merely giving her time to catch her breath and get over the emotions, which he was sure, needed to be calmed before he could attempt to converse with her.

  Her irritation at the stranger seethed within her while she shot daggering looks in his direction. As if reading her thoughts, the man turned to her then, with a strange twist of a smile on his lips.