Uprising in Comanche Country by Andrew Weston is a Best Books '23 pick #western #bestbooks #giveaway
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    • Dec 22, 2023
    • 5 min read

Uprising in Comanche Country by Andrew Weston is a Best Books '23 pick #western #bestbooks #giveaway



Title: Uprising in Comanche Country

 

Author: Andrew Weston

 

Genre: Western

 

Book Blurb:


It took the Pearl brothers considerable time and effort to shape the region around Elder Grove into a safe haven for all. For settlers. For travelers. Even for the Plains Indians who constantly roam the prairie in pursuit of buffalo.


But when a bunch of marauding army deserters commits a heinous act that rouses the massed tribes to anger, it puts all that hard work in jeopardy. Yes, the hornet’s nest has been stirred. So much so, that even the Comanche are provoked to war. And their sting is deadly indeed.


How the Pearl brothers will react remains to be seen. But one thing’s for sure. Nobody will escape unscathed.

 

Excerpt:

 

They’d set out from their lodge three days ago, and headed due east, toward the rising sun. Three days. And so far, they’d only made it as far as White Woman Creek, Vého’ehé‘e O’hé’e, in their own language. A place some believed was filled with bad medicine, for it was supposed to be haunted by the ghost of Anna-Wee.

 

Originally an outsider, Anna-Wee was adopted by the Southern Cheyenne after falling in love with and marrying Chief Tee-Wah-Nee of the Heévâhetaneo’o. Their love was fruitful, and they were blessed with a child. A son, who proved to be fit and healthy.

 

All was well, until the fateful day the blue shirts came to ‘liberate’ Anna-Wee from her captors. But Anna-Wee did not want to be liberated, and died, fighting to save her people and her village from the white oppressor.

 

Her spirit was said to walk the waters of Vého’ehé‘e O’hé’e, and her voice could be heard on the nights of a full moon, mourning the loss of her husband, her son, and the people she came to call her own.

 

Black Crow couldn’t comment on the matter, as he’d never seen or heard the ghost himself. However, he’d visited Vého’ehé‘e O’hé’e on a number of occasions and knew it to be a dependable source of water. Something they would all need after a full day spent trekking across the grasslands.

 

The sun was already sinking below the horizon to the west when Black Crow called Broken Arrow to his side and asked him to spread the word that they would be stopping for the night. A wise choice, for the banks of the creek were gentle, and dotted with willow and birch trees that would provide a natural barrier, and mask their presence from anyone hiding in plain sight out on the prairie.

 

Leaving Broken Arrow to his task, Black Crow trotted east, along the creek for half a mile or so to ensure the way was clear. And, once his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he was satisfied that no dangers awaited them, he turned and worked his way back along the water’s edge to find their small group had just finished erecting their shelters for the night, and were now tending their fires in preparation for the evening’s meal.

 

All seemed well, though Black Crow was irritated by the fact that Broken Arrow hadn’t yet set sentries on top of the bank to watch over the surrounding plains. The latest full moon had passed only two nights ago, so there would be plenty of light to see by once it had risen. And as Broken Arrow should know, it was always best to be in position beforehand, so that you could read the land and its creatures before the transition from day to night reached its inevitable conclusion.

 

He was just about to call out to Broken Arrow and suggest that, perhaps it would be a good idea to think about security, when those birds roosting in the trees and grasses along the creek fell abruptly quiet. Moments later, they were followed by the crickets.

 

Born to the plains, everyone noticed. Some paused in their work and took a quick look around, while others sat up in order so to study their surroundings more thoroughly. A few of the more vigorous ones clutched at tomahawks and knives.

 

Black Crow slid his Spencer carbine from its sheath and drew Broken Arrow’s attention by using the call of the burrowing owl. The signal for caution.

 

Broken Arrow glanced back and nodded. Drawing his own rifle, he spurred his pony forward, and had just started up the northern bank when thunder erupted from the tree line.

 

The sting of hot lead bit into Black Crow’s left shoulder and side, making him yelp and sending him spinning from his mount. Caught by surprise, he landed heavily, face down, winded, and so consumed by pain that he was completely helpless to prevent his mustang from rearing up and bolting.

 

Unable to move for the moment, Black Crow spat out blood and one of his teeth, hunched down into the dirt, and braced himself for the bullet that would end his life.

 

It never came.

 

He peeked up through the stalks of grass in front of him, the endeavor making his head swim and his stomach churn. But it was worth it as he realized that his enemy couldn’t see him. Nor would they, for the moon wasn’t yet high enough to illuminate the ground clearly, and the light from the scattered fires was too low.

 

Yet he wouldn’t leave his fate to chance. All it took was for one person to have noticed what had happened, and they’d be across to finish him off.

 

Grabbing his rifle—which was mercifully still within reach—Black Crow bit his bottom lip and began dragging himself toward a nearby blueberry thicket, hopeful that he might be able to do something from there that would help those of his people who were still fighting back.

 

He could hear them over the din of gunfire. The older ones, yelling war cries as they died; women screaming, but resisting just as ferociously; children hollering in terror.

 

And that’s what upset him the most. The utter futility of their efforts in the face of a relentless barrage. They must be using repeating rifles? So that means. . .?

 

The withering swarm of bullets stopped as suddenly as it began. Black Crow spotted movement along the far bank, close to where Broken Arrow fell. A glint of light reflected in dark eyes. Creaking harnesses. Uniforms with yellow stripes. Blue shirts!

 

Black Crow was horrified. What is an army patrol doing out on the plains after dark? Don’t they realize my people. . .

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 


What makes your featured book a must-read?

 

Because it grips the reader from the outset, both in its the rich storytelling and the sheer force of how brutal life could be on the wild west’s frontier.

 

Giveaway –

 

Enter to win a $45 Amazon gift card:

 

 

Open Internationally.

 

Runs December 18 – December 31, 2023.

 

Winner will be drawn on January 2, 2024.

 


Author Biography:

 

Born in the UK, Andrew Weston was captivated by the great western shows of the 1950s and 60s, where the likes of Wagon Train, Rawhide, Gunsmoke, The Lone Ranger, Bonanza, and the High Chaparral were regular fare on TV.

 

Having served around the world in both the military and law enforcement for well over three decades, Weston now lives in the Aegean Greek Islands with his wonderful wife of 24 years. It is from there that he continues his quest to write the perfect story, and discover a film to rival, “Once Upon a Time in the West.”

 

Social Media Links:

 

Twitter: @WestonAndrew

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