Simiakia

Lori Windows

Description

It was not whimsy that had brought him together with this red horse to run this race. It was the justice of time.

Raised without hope or pride in his heritage to what promises to be a short life of crime, alcohol, and drugs, Nez Perce teenager Al George gets an unexpected second chance. A heist gone wrong ends up with Al working on probation at the very Idaho ranch he and his “friends” tried to rob, owned by Celia Bolt, who left her own rich-but-dysfunctional family to move West many years ago, and the taciturn Morgan Kyles, who has his own checkered past.

Over the course of the summer of 1986, Celia and Morgan work out the thorny details of their relationship, while Al regains his pride and his sense of self as he works with the ranch’s signature Appaloosas, finds love—and finally, through a deep bond with one very special horse, reconnects with his Nez Perce heritage and discovers the truth of his strange, recurring dreams of an Indian brave on another special horse, striving to protect his people from the soldiers pursuing them.

For everyone involved, one summer changes everything.

Sujets

• horses
• Westerns
• Nez percé
• American Indian
• Indigenous
• Western (genre)
• Indigenous peoples
• Nez Perce
• Animals
• Appaloosa
• Fiction
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: Endless Sky Books
• Date de parution: 17 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781989398777
• Langue: English

Extrait

PRAISE FOR SIMIAKIA


“Lori Windows brings horses and the special coy dog, Cantar,  to life in her writing . . . as the plot develops, the growing self-confidence of the young and displaced Nez Perce character, Alicut George, is revealed. He learns to endurance ride on Folly, and care for an orphan foal named Gambler’s Hand. Interspersed throughout are Alicut’s flashback dreams about his Nez Perce ancestors as they attempted to escape the US Calvary . . . The strength and endurance of the Appaloosa horse was instrumental in their arduous journey and connects Alicut to his past and his identity. Female characters are dynamic and strong . . . romance is sprinkled throughout and the ending is satisfying. I love reading about horses, especially where animals are not just props, but are characters in the story!”

GAYLE M. SMITH, AWARD-NOMINATED AUTHOR OF THICKWOOD

SIMIAKIA


Published by
Endless Sky Books
Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
www.endless-sky-books.com


Copyright © 2023 by Lori Windows
All rights reserved


All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.


Print ISBN: 978-1-989398-76-0
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-989398-77-7


Cover design by Shaun Stevens
flintlockcovers.com
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23


About the Author

About Endless Sky Books
CHAPTER 1

Celia Bolt was a strange and lonely child, born in the winter of 1958 to a father who thought children an inconvenience but was willing and more than able to support her in the most lavish of fashions; born of a mother who pictured her as nothing more than a life-sized doll to dress in expensive, frilly costumes and display to friends. But the little girl’s gawky body and clumsy motions did not lend themselves well to silk and lace, and it wasn’t long before even her mother lost interest in physical contact with young Celia. She was left to her own designs, her mother and father paying as little attention to her as possible, and her needs catered to by hired people, usually different ones every month. When the subject of children and their accomplishments was brought up during social gatherings, Audria Bolt always managed to divert the line of discussion.
Celia compensated for such neglect. She spun a cocoon of fantasies around herself and spent her days huddled inside, harboring her only friends—books. Tales of mystery and adventure, stories about animals and the often fierce beauty of nature, myths and legends surrounding the great people of the past. All of these and more, even some too sophisticated for her young mind, she read, and at night, Celia’s restless dreams would carry on where the books left off. Only this time, she would be the hero of her tales. It seemed that with such a vivid imagination and a mind so hungry for knowledge, the girl would accomplish great deeds in school, topping her classes scholastically and, for once, making her parents proud.



* * *
“She just isn’t trying,” the school psychologist announced after a week of afternoon sessions with Celia. “She’s a bright child, and basically, there is no reason why she can’t do the work. Now, I’m not saying she’s failing deliberately, but it’s almost as if she’s doing poorly in order to punish you, as though she has some sort of mental block preventing her from making good grades.”
“Punish us! For Christ’s sake, what do you mean, ‘punish us’? We’ve given her everything!”
“Now, Roman, don’t get so excited. We’ll never achieve anything that way.” Audria patted her husband’s hand comfortingly.
“I’ll show her what punishment is, by God. As soon as we get home, that damn TV is coming out of her room.” Roman Bolt slammed his fist on the arm of the leather chair, barely missing his wife’s consoling hand and with such an air of finality that it appeared as if he believed he had put an end to their problem.
“Roman, dear, Celia asked me to take the television from her bedroom several weeks ago. She said she wanted the extra room on her bookcase.”
“And that’s another thing, those books of hers,” Bolt stormed, not realizing or caring how hopelessly remote he was from his daughter. Dr. Shneider realized, though. “You tell me, Doctor. Is it normal for an eleven-year-old girl to spend all her spare time reading? Her head is so full of fairy tales she can’t face reality.”
Dr. Shneider wanted to sigh, but he felt he must retain his professional image as long as possible. Being head psychologist for Crandhill Park Private Elementary School would never be an easy job. With so many parents whose idea of showing affection for their children was to send them to a supervised play camp in Alaska for the summer and whose substitute for love was a six-thousand-dollar scale-model fully automatic playhouse for Christmas, it was a wonder that any of the students could adjust normally. “Sometimes, when a child cannot cope or isn’t satisfied with her surroundings, she will construct a make-believe existence. An escape hatch, so to speak. Most children will grow out of this when they realize the real world offers more exciting things.”
Bolt, half-listening, stole a glance at his chronometer and had to suppress a smile. His anger faded. Surely the brief show of emotion had sufficiently displayed parental concern. Besides, he had a plane to catch in an hour and would soon be soaring his way eastward to a business conference in Geneva. Ah, Geneva! That fabulous playground where last year, at this same time, he had purchased his impressive timepiece. Geneva and its snow-capped mountains jutting towards the sky; Geneva and its lovely women, breasts jutting towards the shadowy ceilings of cozy hotel rooms. Soon he would be far beyond all this worthless talk of fairy tales and escape hatches. But for now, he could just take the whole mess and drop it in Dr. Shneider’s lap. “Well, you’re the doctor. What do we do, and how much will it cost?”
“I’d suggest acting as if she were not failing, letting her know that it doesn’t matter what grades she gets, that you love her anyway. You do love her, don’t you?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course, we love her. She’s our daughter, isn’t she?” His anger was not a sham now. Roman Bolt was on the defense.
Dr. Shneider stacked some loose papers on his desk, not looking at either of the Bolts. “Mr. Bolt, did you read the paper last night?”
“Paper! What in God’s name does that have to do with anything? I thought we were talking about our daughter.”
“I was just wondering if you happened to see the article about the man who was arrested in the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel. It seems he pushed someone out of his twenty-third-story room.”
“Please come to the point, sir,” came from a thoroughly perplexed and impatient Bolt.
“Investigation revealed that the girl who fell from the window was the gentleman’s daughter. It seems as if there was some . . .”
Bolt stormed to his feet and Mrs. Bolt gasped audibly and plucked at her husband’s sleeve. “Are you suggesting that I’m going to take my child home and throw her off our roof because she’s flunking Geography?
“I’m afraid you’ve missed my intent entirely, Mr. Bolt. I was merely pointing out, rather graphically, I must admit, that love and relation are not necessarily synonymous.”
Audria Bolt always seemed to be able to stay cool in situations where her husband could only fume. Clinging to Roman’s arm, she intoned calmly, “Thank you for the illustration, Dr. Shneider, but I don’t think we’ll be in need of your services anymore.” She turned primly around and, tugging her still-sputtering husband after her, left the office.



* * *
Celia Bolt graduated from Crandhill Park that spring. Three private tutors saw to that. And yet, her grades were still disappointingly low, her mind still filled with dreams, and her life depressingly empty. In the best interests of all concerned, her parents sent Celia to a New Haven boarding school in the fall.
Celia Bolt was now a troubled and wild youth. Her cocoon of fantasy had burst, and from its depths emerged a restless butterfly. From an awkward, retiring child, Celia had transformed into a rebel, challenging authority and no longer content to read of others’ deeds and adventures, satisfied only to experience these joys herself.
Normal school routine did not hold enough outlets for her unnatural energies. Many nights she would sneak out of the dormitory, unable to sleep, and spend hours conditioning her supple and blossoming body on the gymnastic equipment or saddle a pony from the stable and ride in crazy patterns around the athletic field until she and the pony were both exhausted. She had no friends among the students or staff and wanted none. The other girls would laugh when Celia’s name was mentioned but never when Celia was within sight.
The years at New Haven were boring but better than living at home, where Celia couldn’t endure the stormy relationship she maintained with her parents. She found enough to keep her body occupied as she flung herself into school activities with the same gusto she once reserved for her books alone. She was the best in the school at sports but was often found sitting out a game for some infraction of the rules. Academically, she was at the head of most of her classes and retained that position not because she wanted to please anyone but simply because she liked fee