Marshdale.
Just a small farming community where nothing special happens. A perfect place to start over… or get lost. Once
a sacred meeting place of aboriginal tribes, some say the land is cursed. But
its history goes even farther back than indigenous oral history can trace and
there is still a direct descendant who has been handed the truth, like it or
not. Exactly what ties does the land have to the medicine of the ancients? Is
it cursed, or is it all superstition?
WIND OVER MARSHDALE is the story of the struggles within
a small prairie town when hidden evil and ancient medicine resurface. Caught in
the crossfire, new teacher Rachel Bosworth finds herself in love with two men
at once. First, there is Thomas Lone Wolf, a Cree man whose blood lines run
back to the days of ancient medicine but who has chosen to live as a Christian
and faces prejudice from every side. Then there is Con McKinley, local farmer
who has to face some demons of his own. Add to the mix a wayward minister
seeking anonymity in the obscurity of the town; eccentric twin sisters – one
heavily involved in the occult and the other a fundamentalist zealot; and a
host of other ‘characters’ whose lives weave together unexpectedly for the
final climax. This suspenseful story is one of human frailty - prejudice,
cowardice, jealousy, and greed – magnified by powerful spiritual forces that
have remained hidden for centuries, only to be broken in triumph by grace.
Thomas
shot up in bed, panting. The T-shirt he wore clung to his body with sweat. It
was not the first time the dream had come to wake him.
He
took a deep breath, disentangled himself from the sheets, and rose to get
a drink of water. No point going back to bed now. He wouldn’t sleep anyway. He padded
down the narrow hallway,
passing
the half closed doorways that sheltered his sleeping children. Ducking to avoid
hitting his head as he entered the tiny kitchen, he paused for a moment to look
at the expanse of landscape beyond the window. Mostly flat, with a rise of gently
rolling hills in the distance, it was clothed with a carpet of rippling grass except
for the odd patch of dry fallow. Just like in the dream.
The early
morning sunrise was just beginning to filter in, reaching to shed some light in
the shadowed corners of the room. Thomas had managed to rent a house near the outskirts
of town. Correction. It wasn’t exactly
a house. The realtor called it a “double wide.” Okay, it was a trailer, but it was
the only property for rent in Marshdale at the moment. At least, that was what the realtor had said. It wasn’t the nicest place—rather
dingy if truth be told—and it was farther from school than Thomas would have liked,
but it was still within walking distance. Better than the overcrowded and dilapidated homes he’d been
used to as a child.
But that
was another time. Another life.
With
practiced fingers he undid his night-time braid and shook out his hair, which fell
well past his shoulders. Even at forty, there was no sign of greying or hair loss.
It was straight, coarse and black,
just like his ancestors’ - the perfect picture of a Cree warrior.
Now that
he was awake, he allowed himself to replay the dream in his mind - at least the
parts that he could remember. Like most dreams, the initial clarity soon faded after
just a few waking moments. There were buffalo - always buffalo. And they seemed
bent on suicide, careening to their deaths before he could stop them somehow.
He was
going to start writing it down. The theme was too familiar; the mixture of fear
and power too real. Some people said you dreamt in black and white. Thomas wasn’t
sure about that. He knew there was blood in his dream - and lots of it. The redness
of it stood out in stark contrast to the muted prairie landscape. And the stench.
That unmistakable metallic scent filled his nostrils to such a degree that he could
almost swear he still smelled it. Almost. But that was ridiculous and he pushed
the memory of the coagulating stains out of his mind.
With
a sigh he turned back to the cupboards and started readying the coffee. It would
soon be time to wake the children and get ready for work himself. Another gruelling
day of lobbying for something that should be rightfully his to begin with. Reality
didn’t stop for dreams.
Author Bio:
Reviews/Notices/Awards:
There is plenty of intrigue and mystery to keep any reader's attention,
but for lovers of romance, this one will make your heart pound. ~ Michelle Sutton, reviewer and author of
more than a dozen inspirational novels
Tracy Krauss typifies all that is good in modern Christian
authorship. She is consistently there for her readers and elevates her every
effort. ~ Joyce Godwin Grubbs, Author From the Grassroots
Tracy’s characters are raw and real; her plots edgy and
electric. ~ Lisa Lickel, award winning author of Meander Scar, A Summer in Oakville, The Map Quilt and
other inspirational novels
Tracy
Krauss has a deep talent. I am looking forward to more from her. ~ Tom Blubaugh, Author of Night
of the Cossack
Why Did Tracy Write WIND OVER MARSHDALE?
The
setting for the book is based on the small town of Mossbank where I grew up.
The landscape and scenery are ‘straight up’ and even some of the history is
loosely based on local legend. I am a ‘people’ watcher and in my years living
in various small towns I’ve come to recognize certain ‘characters’ that seem to
reside everywhere. As well, I have an interest in many of the cultural and
spiritual aspects of Canada’s First Nations, especially as it relates to
Christianity and faith. All of these factors came together in the writing of
this tale. Ultimately, I hope it points toward the restorative power of Christ.
Purchase Links:
Amazon. http://is.gd/JkjMik
Barnes and Noble. http://is.gd/oyXhDa
Publisher, Astraea Press. http://is.gd/vP7M3W
Bookstrand. http://www.bookstrand.com/tracy-krauss
