Follow the Wind - Softcover

Coldsmith, Don

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0812579682 ISBN 13: 9780812579680

Publisher: Forge, 2004

Synopsis

Follow the Wind

Don Pedro Garcia was impatient; there were only so many forced marches the horses could endure. He was an old man now, and he wanted to see his son who, rumor had it, was alive among the Indians of the Great Plains. Don Pedro's lieutenant, Ramon Cabeza, was also troubled, for no matter how fast the search party traveled the Indians always seemed to know their movements days in advance. What neither man could know was that Don Pedro's son was alive, now a chief among the Elk-dog band--and that the feared Head Splitters were preparing to make war upon the intruders who had violated their lands.

The Spanish Bit Saga

Set in the New World of the early 16th century, Don Coldsmith's acclaimed novels re-create a time, a place, and a people that have been nearly lost to history. In The Spanish Bit Saga we see history in the making through the eyes of those proud Native Americans who lived it. With 6 million copies of his critically acclaimed books in print, Don Coldsmith is one of America's premier novelists of the North American Frontier.

About this title

About the Author

Don Coldsmith was the Spur Award-winning author of more than thirty-five books. After serving as a combat medic in the Pacific during World War II, Coldsmith served as a physician in Emporia, Kansas, until 1988, when he closed his office to devote himself to writing. Coldsmith and his wife, Edna, maintained a small ranching operation, and together raised cattle, Appaloosa horses, and five daughters, not necessarily in that order.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Follow the Wind
1Sanchez leaned his elbows on the rough planks of the table and sipped his wine. It was poor wine, but inexpensive. In his fuzzy half-drunken stupor, it didn't matter much anyway. One wine tasted much like another after so many hours of carousing. So he drank the cheap red house wine and wondered dreamily where his next meal was coming from.He glanced around the tavern and decided that none of the clientele was worth his time. After all, the risk of being caught picking a pocket was hardly worth the few centavos, perhaps a peso or two. And surely, none of these patrons appeared affluent enough to have more than that. A very inferior quality of customers, he thought haughtily.The sound of horses in the street roused Sanchez from reverie and he shuffled toward the door to look. He was careful to take his tankard with him. One could never trust anyone, he mused. Someone might drink his wine. At the thought, he glanced quickly around the room, but everyone had picked up his own wine, probably for the same reason.Distrustful pigs, thought Sanchez. Unable to better his situation by purloining anyone's drink, he moved on toward the doorway, shoving between two other patrons to see better.The procession was grand to behold. He blinked for a moment in the bright sunlight. As his eyes became accustomed to the sudden brilliance of the afternoon, he saw an elderly man, dressed in the finest of clothing, astride a magnificent gray horse. Uniformed men-at-arms flanked him on either side and a coach, pulled by four black horses, followed behind. Sanchez could catch a glimpse of a woman's profile behind the lacy curtains of the fancy carriage. A liveried footman sat beside the uniformed driver on the high seat.Bringing up the rear were three more men-at-arms, well dressed, well equipped. The entire impression was that of wealth.Ah, thought Sanchez, the rich know how to live! Curious, he shuffled back to the table and motioned to the tavern keeper, who came forward with ready jug. Sanchez shook his head and covered his tankard with cupped palm. He had no more money and wished to conceal from the host that he was nursing the last finger of wine very slowly so he could sit longer in the cool shade."Who is the old man in the street?""Ah, señor, you are truly a stranger to this town! That is Don Pedro Garcia and the señora, Dona Isabel."Sanchez nodded and sipped his wine. The name nudged faintly at his memory. No, probably someone he had never heard of. There were many Garcias. He had asked only from idle curiosity. He was fascinated by those of wealth, largely because they had wealth, making them more profitable to steal from.The tavern keeper was rattling on, the gossipy conversation of a local, telling an outsider about his town."--and it nearly killed the old man when his only son was lost in New Spain."Suddenly, Sanchez became alert. Mother of God, could it be? That young officer, lost and presumed dead on the plains. His name had been Garcia, had it not?"What was the son's name?" He tried to appear casual."Let me see," the tavern keeper mused. He remembered the young man, who had been a hard drinker, something of a rascal, in an exuberant, youthful sort of way. "Juan, I think it was. Yes, that's right. Juan Garcia. Their only child, you see." He shook his head sympathetically."And what happened to him?" Sanchez was certain now, but remained covert in his conversation. What a stroke of good fortune!"Why, he was lost on an expedition to the north of New Spain. Killed by savages, I suppose. It was about five years ago. They found no gold either, I'm told."Yes, too bad, thought Sanchez. He had counted on a share of that gold when he enlisted. But there had been no gold. Only mile after mile of the endless grassland.And young Garcia. Sanchez remembered well the day he had struck off by himself with a lance. He was never seen again. The next day, the Capitan had turned back. The men had discussed Garcia's probable fate around the campfires on the return journey. Most believed that he had been killed by savages or that he had wandered until he starved. He could have been captured, of course. There had been that one other soldier he had heard of. What was his name? No matter. The story was that he had been found six years later, living with the savages.And it was just this sort of unresolved doubt that began to incubate the seed of a scheme in the evil little mind of Sanchez. He could pretend to have information of the only son of Don Pedro Garcia. The old man might pay handsomely for the story. What matter that it was untrue? And who was to say that it was? The leader of the expedition, Sanchez had heard, was in disfavor with the authorities. Many of the group were dead now. By the time Don Pedro learned anything to the contrary, Sanchez would be long gone with whatever gold the old man had been willing to give.He finished his wine at one gulp. This completely confused the tavern keeper, who had seen Sanchez nurse the same thimbleful for half the afternoon. Casually, the guestasked directions to the hacienda of Don Pedro Garcia and departed into the fading afternoon sun.Sanchez was beginning to devise a tale of magnificent proportions. He would wait until full dark before his approach. Any tale is better for the telling by candlelight.Copyright © 1983 by Don Coldsmith

About this edition

• Publisher: Forge
• Publication date: 2004
• ISBN 10: 0812579682
• ISBN 13: 9780812579680
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 185