Teton Sunrise (Teton Romance Trilogy)

by Henderson, Peggy L

  The baby suddenly stopped crying, and his little lips quivered and puckered. His eyes closed, and he appeared to be content.

  Alex looked toward Evie, who watched him intently. A smile spread across her face. “I knew you’d be a great father,” she said. Alex grinned back at her.

  “What should I do now?” he asked.

  “His bassinet is ready for him.” She pointed to a wicker basket that Alex hadn’t noticed before, on the other side of the bed. Slowly, Alex walked around the bed. He didn’t want to let go of his son, but he also wanted to hold the child’s mother in his arms. Carefully, he placed the infant in the basket, and straightened. Observing his sleeping son for another moment, he tore his eyes away and turned toward Evie. He sat on the bed, and gathered her into his arms.

  “Tomorrow, I’m calling for the preacher. It won’t be a church wedding, but I refuse to spend another day without a piece of paper that says you’re my wife.”

  Evie hugged him tight, then pulled away to kiss his lips. “I love you, Alex Walker, and I’ve told you before, I don’t need a piece of paper to know I’m married to you.”

  “This is one argument you’re not going to win, Evie,” he said. “No one is ever going to take you from me again. And as soon as you’re well enough, I’m taking you and my son home so I can uphold my promise to you.”

  “What promise?” Evie’s eyebrows raised.

  He hugged her close and whispered in her ear, “That you will wake up each morning to watch the sun rise above the Tetons.”

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  Laurent Berard ran his hand down the length his wife’s silky black hair, and Whispering Waters turned in his arms. Her soft smile sent a warm sensation through his chest.

  “Yancey will return with our daughter very shortly. We should take advantage of our time alone,” she breathed against his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Laurent groaned. He leaned toward her, and their lips met in a kiss that started slowly and quickly grew in urgency.

  “You are insatiable, wife,” he said, and lifted her onto their bed.

  “Very soon, we will not have much time to ourselves,” she said huskily, and stared up at him. An expectant look flashed in her eyes.

  Laurent’s heart skipped in his chest. His eyes searched his wife’s face. “What are you saying, mon amor?”

  “By next spring, you will be a father again.” Her smile grew wide. “Perhaps a brother this time for Raven. Perhaps then she will cease to torment Shadow Walker and Evelyn’s sons. She follows poor Joseph around so much, he hides each time they’re together.” She laughed softly. “At least Lucas and she are of the same age, but for some reason she has taken a liking to Joseph.”

  Laurent chuckled. Joy and contentment filled him. He ran his hand along his wife’s flat abdomen, envisioning her full and round with another child growing in her belly. For the first two years of their marriage, they had tried for a baby. He remembered how Whispering Waters had blamed herself, saying she was barren and useless as a wife. She had watched and doted on Evelyn’s young son, never showing her deep sorrow and perhaps even jealously that her friend was a mother. When Evelyn and Alex announced another pregnancy, Whispering Waters had cried for days. Nothing Laurent could do would snap her out of her sorrow, until one day she came to him, the biggest smile on her face that he’d ever seen. The birth of their daughter, Sophia, who was known as Little Raven among her mother’s people, had been nothing short of a miracle. Now, he would be a father again?

  “Perhaps our beautiful daughter will marry Joseph someday. Although he might be as reluctant as his father was to finally admit his love for Evelyn.”

  Whispering Waters laughed. “She will have to behave more like a proper young woman should before he takes notice of her. All she wants to do is dig in the dirt and steal away his toys. She has not made a good impression on a potential future husband.”

  Laurent leaned over his wife and kissed her. “She is only two years old. She still has time. She will grow up to be as beautiful as you, and then no man will be able to resist her. I will have a difficult time fending off all of her suitors.”

  “She has our friend Yancey wrapped around her little finger. He loves her as if she was his own daughter.”

  Laurent smiled. The eastern dandy certainly had a way with his daughter. “She will miss him when he returns to the big city in the east.” Laurent unbuckled his belt and tossed his pistol on the table in the center of his cabin.

  “Perhaps he will choose to stay here with us. I know of a young woman who would make a suitable wife for him.” Whispering Waters smiled.

  Laurent wasn’t sure that Yancey planned to stay in the mountains. He had learned what he had come to learn, and his father was calling him back to the eastern city to run the family business. “He has learned a lot over the years. Perhaps he will stay. He hasn’t said.”

  “Let’s not speak of him now, my husband.” Whispering Waters tugged on his shirt.

  Laurent kissed his wife. He dropped his belt to the ground and joined her on the bed, then pulled her into his arms. No sooner had he relaxed next to her, when a loud bang jolted them apart. Laurent leapt from the bed, his eyes darting to where his pistol lay on the table a few feet away, then to the man who stood in the doorway. Whispering Waters gasped behind him.

  A man wearing a leather patch over his left eye leered at him, exposing rotting black teeth. He held a pistol in each hand, and slowly stepped into the cabin.

  “Sabin,” Laurent said quietly. He was alive! The name sent a jolt of dread through him. He knew he couldn’t reach his weapon without getting shot. He took a slow step in front of his wife, his foot stepping on his belt that held his knife.

  “We meet again, Laurent,” Oliver Sabin sneered. “I have waited a long time to repay you for what you’ve done to me.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Laurent said. He eyed the man’s pistols warily.

  Oliver Sabin laughed. “I’m not dead, but you will be, along with your squaw. I also heard you had an offspring. I aim to wipe you and your family off the face of this earth, Laurent.”

  Without warning, Sabin fired his pistol. Whispering Waters screamed behind him, and hot pain shot through Laurent’s insides. His hand clutched his stomach, feeling warm liquid oozing into his hand. Before he could reach for his knife, dizziness washed over him, and he sank to the ground. All noise around him sounded far away. Another shot echoed in his head, accompanied by an evil laugh. His wife’s screams died in the background.

  Laurent gasped for air, and he tried to get to his feet. A heavy weight shoved him onto his back. Blinking to clear his blurring vision, Laurent stared up into the gleaming eye of his killer.

  “Now where is that precious half-breed baby of yours?”

  Laurent gritted his teeth. “You will never find her,” he gasped between labored breaths.

  Sabin laughed, and straightened. “Oh, I’ll find her, you can rest in peace with that, after you die a slow and agonizing death.” Laughing coldly, the man disappeared from view, and an eerie stillness swept through him.

  Laurent squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to hear Whispering Water’s soft voice, knowing that he wouldn’t. His wife was dead, and he would join her very soon. The bullet in his stomach would slowly kill him. He didn’t have the strength to move, to be at his wife’s side, so he lay there, waiting for death to come. His eyes closed, and he prayed for Sophia. His beautiful, raven-haired little girl. He had no doubt that Sabin would carry out his promise and kill her, too.

  All sense of time passing left him. Laurent didn’t know how long he lay on the hard ground, gasping for each breath as the blood drained from his body.

  “Laurent? Oh my dear Lord!” The faraway voice echoed in his mind. He tried to open his eyes. At the sound of a baby’s cries, he turned his head. A blurry figure bent over him.

  “Laurent?”

  He recognized Yancey’s voice. The greenhorn grabbed for
his hand. It felt so warm, while his was as cold as death itself.

  “Take . . . take Sophia and run,” he rasped.

  “What?” Yancey leaned close to his face. “Laurent, who did this?”

  “Sabin . . . he will kill her, too.”

  A sudden urgency raced through him, the last of his strength gone. With one final effort, he grabbed Yancey’s hand, and stared him in the eyes. “Take my daughter. Protect her. He will kill her, too . . . swear that you will protect her.”

  Yancey stared blankly for a moment, then nodded.

  Laurent relaxed. “He must never find her,” he gasped, then he loosened his grip. His hand fell to the ground, and suddenly there was no more pain, only peace and happiness. A beautiful raven haired young woman smiled down at him, and he closed his eyes, letting the darkness carry him away.

  Dear Reader

  Teton Sunrise is set in the 1820’s, the decade when the fur trapper and mountain man era west of the Mississippi was at its peak. By the 1840’s, the beaver was nearly trapped to extinction, and silk replaced beaver fur for hats. In 1822, William Henry Ashley advertised in the Missouri Gazette for “enterprising young men to ascend the river Missouri” to trap for beaver. The group of men who joined the expedition became known as Ashley’s Hundred, and included Jim Bridger, Jedediah Smith, Hugh Glass, and Thomas Fitzpatrick, among others who would become famous mountain men later on. This was the beginning of the fur companies who employed men to venture into the Rocky Mountains and bring back beaver pelts that were in high demand in the east and overseas. A “company man” was no more than a day laborer, outfitted by the company he worked for, and paid roughly $200 per year for his hard and dangerous work. Everything these trappers caught belonged to the company. A “free trapper” was exactly that. He answered to no one, and made his own decisions. He might join up with a group of other trappers for safety, but he traveled and trapped where he chose, and sold his furs, or plews, to whomever he wanted.

  Jackson Hole was named for trapper David Jackson, who spent a lot of time trapping the area. A “hole” is a general term that was used by mountain men to describe a valley surrounded by mountains, and so the area where the town of Jackson, Wyoming sits today, was referred to as Jackson’s Hole in the days of the trappers.

  Competition between fur companies was fierce, and larger companies used ruthless tactics to break the backs of some of the smaller companies. The Rocky Mountain Fur Company and the American Fur Company were two of the largest outfits.

  The annual trapper rendezvous was first held in 1826, when William Ashley led a pack train of supplies from St. Louis into the Rockies to outfit his men. This became an annual event, with trappers and Indians coming to trade goods, swap stories, buy supplies, sell their furs, and generally have a good time.

  Fascinating tales of the mountain men abound. Whenever I come across a story that piques my interest, I try and find a way to incorporate some of it into my books. For instance, I used the story of John Colter and his escape from the Blackfoot Indians in one of my other novels, Yellowstone Redemption.

  Another story I came across that was too good not to incorporate into Teton Sunrise, was an incident that happened to mountain man Joe Meeks. While traveling with fellow trappers and his Indian wife, a group of hostile Indians kidnapped his wife when she fell behind in their travels. Joe Meeks charged after the kidnappers, and lost control of his horse. The Indians were so impressed by Joe’s show of “bravery” at riding headlong into their midst, that they gave the wife back to him. It didn’t happen quite like that to Alex in Teton Sunrise, but I thought it was a great little tidbit.

  The Teton mountain range is one of the youngest in North America. It was formed some 9 million years ago due largely to the uplift of several faults in the region. Earthquakes in the area are due largely to the nearby Yellowstone caldera.

  The Grand Tetons were named Les Trois Tetons by early French trappers, and the range of mountains was called the Teewinots (many pinnacles) by the Shoshone Indians.

  Scroll down for an excerpt from Book 2 in the Teton Romance Trilogy, Teton Splendor

  ~Peggy

  My other titles:

  Yellowstone Romance Series:

  Book 1 Yellowstone Heart Song

  Book 2 Yellowstone Redemption

  Book 3 Yellowstone Awakening

  Book 4 Yellowstone Dawn

  Book 5 Yellowstone Deception

  A Yellowstone Christmas (novella)

  Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series

  Book 1 Come Home to Me

  You can find all my titles by visiting my Amazon author page:

  http://amazon.com/author/peggylhenderson

  Find out more about me and my stories here:

  http://peggylhenderson.blogspot.com

  Join me on Facebook! I love interacting with my readers, and you can stay current on my book projects and happenings.

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Peggy-L-Henderson-author/254755581267700

  I’m always happy to hear from my readers. Tell me what you liked, or didn’t like in the story. I can be reached via email here: ynpdreamer@gmail.com

  Teton Splendor

  Prologue

  Jackson Hole, Oregon Territory (what is now Wyoming) 1853

  Joseph Walker pulled his horse to a stop just outside the large conical tent near the center of the Indian village. Men and women stopped what they were doing to watch him, some holding their hands up in a gesture of greeting. Children ran anxiously beside his horse, waving and shouting, and dogs barked at their heels. Smiling at his exuberant welcoming committee, he swung his leg over the back of the saddle and dismounted. Handing the reins to one of the older boys, he untied a large leather pouch from his saddle.

  “What did you bring us, Nu umi Kin numpu?” several of the children called.

  Joseph faced the children. Grinning broadly, he reached into the sack and produced ribbons of various colors, beads, and strips of cloth that he handed to the bright-eyed girls. For the eager boys, he pulled out flint and elk antlers, a few eagle feathers and claws, and mountain lion teeth.

  “It is good to see you, toko,” a raspy voice spoke above the exited chatter of the children. They fell silent and dispersed, and Joseph’s eyes fell on the old man who had emerged from the tipi.

  “It is good you have returned to the valley for the summer, kunu,” he said, and clasped the old man’s hands. The chief’s grip wasn’t as strong as he remembered from last summer, and his smile faded.

  “You are well?” he asked tentatively, and searched the old man’s wrinkled face. Two Bears, chief of this small band of Bannock Indians, offered a slow smile, and returned his stare through watery eyes.

  “I am not as young as I used to be,” the chief answered. “Come walk with me, toko. I hoped you would visit soon. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

  Joseph’s brows drew together in a worried frown, and he fell into step beside the old man. Rather than the usual drawn-out greeting, Two Bears seemed to be anxious to tell him what was on his mind. The chief walked bent forward with a hunched back, and shuffled away from his tent, toward the meandering stream flowing along the edge of the village. Joseph glanced sideways down at the frail-looking man, and remembered a time when he looked up to the once proud chief in admiration. Now it was Two Bears who had to raise his head to look him in the eye.

  “What is on your mind, Grandfather,” Joseph finally asked when they reached the banks of the stream. The chief stopped and faced him.

  “I have had visions in my sleep. Visions of my death,” Two Bears said. Joseph gripped his arm and chuckled uneasily.

  “You will live for many more seasons,” he said with exaggerated confidence.

  Two Bears smiled sadly. “I am not ready to die,” he said, searching Joseph’s face. “There is something that has been troubling me, and I must ask a favor of you.”

  “Anything,” Joseph said quickly. Aside from his father, there wasn’t a m
an he respected more than the old chief, and nothing he asked could be too much.

  “As you know, I had a daughter once.” The chief paused and glanced expectantly at Joseph. When he nodded, Two Bears continued. “She was my only child. She was taken from me much too soon. She and her husband were killed by an evil white man.”

  Vague memories of his father’s friend, a French trapper named Laurent Berard, entered Joseph’s mind. He and his father had trapped the surrounding mountains when the fur trade was big business in the east and overseas. Since the decline of beaver pelts a decade ago, his father and mother had taken to raising cattle and horses in the vast valley at the base of the great Teton mountains. Joseph was no more than five years old when a ruthless man, bent on revenge, murdered Laurent and his Bannock wife, Whispering Waters.

  “My daughter bore a girl child. I know that my granddaughter is still alive,” Two Bears continued, his voice faltering slightly. “A white man took her away so she would not meet the same fate as her parents. That is what your father has told me.”

  Joseph nodded. According to his father, Laurent had given his daughter into the care of an easterner before he died, to protect her from getting killed. Byron Yancey had come to the mountains to learn about the fur trade first hand, and his family was one of the largest exporters of beaver pelts to Europe.