Deborah Tadema                                     

 Contemporary Fiction, Young Adult, Urban Thrillers, Fantasy and Historical Novels  Book Reviewer



... (several lines of customized programming code appear here)

Break in The Wind

Book One of The Sievers

Winda escapes slavery only to face Pakwis, the Ojibwa chief, again when she needs his help. She fears that he will want his slave back and she will lose the man she has fallen in love with. But without his help, they could be attacked by the Americans who are receiving shipments of a newer and more powerful rifle than the Brown Bess that the people in Upper Canada are using.

Lucas Sievers is a trapper and as wild as the Indians. He drifts between cultures. Many men fear him. Yet, he is gentle and will fight to the death for the one woman who can tame him. As they ride across the country in search of an outlaw Lucas watches Pakwis closely, knowing full well of his feelings for Winda.

Grant Sievers hadn't seen his brother in many years. When they do meet up again Grant is in the middle of an investigation. His main objective is to arrest Dusty Blackman and stop him from smuggling guns across the border. But Dusty's wife, Carrie, proves to be a distraction.

Carrie's dream of a romantic wedding is shattered when her father forces her to marry Dusty. He takes her to across the country and leaves her in the wilderness alone. The only chance she has in escaping from him is with the help of her new friend, Winda.

A Sneak Peek

    1789 “Run! Winda, run, hide!” Her mother pushed her toward the trees, but Winda 

clung desperately onto her sleeve. “Hurry little one, before they see you.” Winda's tiny 

hand was ripped from the security of her mother with a forcefulness that she had 

never known before. Her mother pushed her again. Winda ran across the clearing in 

her Cree village and into the woods as fast as her legs could go.


  “Do not look back,” her mother called her. Branches slapped at her face; roots tried 

to trip her, bushes grabbed at her ankles as she ran. Winda followed a woman who 

carried a baby in her arms. The woman tripped and dropped her baby, which landed 

on a rock, its lifeless body draped over it, face down. Winda heard the thud of the 

arrow as it pierced into the woman's neck and watched as her blood spurted out with 

every heartbeat. Winda forced herself to run.


   She didn't stop until she reached the river and hid behind a big rock. Winda gasped 

for air and tried to ease the pain in her chest. It seemed a long time before she dared 

to look over the rock. Winda could see the flames through the trees as her beloved 

Cree village burned. She stifled a scream when her best friend was hit in the back 

with an arrow as she rushed toward her. Tears ran down Winda's face while she 

watched her friend struggle on the ground until there was no life left in her body.


   Warriors came through the smoke toward her, one with his arrow aimed at her 

heart. An ugly sneer spread across his scarred face as he came within a few yards of 

her. He pulled back on his bow ready to strike.


   A younger warrior walked confidently through the trees and held up his hand.  “Stop,” 

he said in Ojibwa. “I want this one.”


 Scar Face turned, his expression turning dark and deadly. “I will kill this one.” He 

pulled back further on his bow. “They all die today.”


  “No!” The other man stepped in between Winda and certain death. He faced the 

other man. “I ask for this one,” he said as he turned and looked Winda over then back 

at his friend. “She is to be my slave.”


 Scar Face grinned wickedly at Winda and then lowered his weapon. “That will be 

good. We need more slaves, women slaves.” He nodded to the younger warrior and 

walked away.


  The second man lifted her up and held her close to his chest. Winda could smell the 

sweat and felt his hard chest as she struggled to get free. He only laughed and 

squeezed her tight. Winda held in a sob as his fingers dug deep into her arm. “You 

call me Pakwis,” he told her before he set her on the ground and took her hand in a 

vice-like grip.     As they walked back through the trees, other Ojibwa warriors greeted 

her captor and poked at her until he fended them off. Winda wanted to close her eyes 

but couldn't. She had never seen so many of her people dead like this before. Her 

uncle was speared to a tree, his scalp without his full head of grey hair. She could 

hear the screams of a woman as three men dragged her behind a bush. Valuable 

items and food were set in a pile in the clearing. Every wigwam was ablaze.


  Pakwis stood her beside a nine summers old boy named Little Fox. He cried while 

he stood there and watched the warriors celebrate. Be brave, Winda wanted to tell 

him, do not let them know you are afraid. That was what her father had taught her. 

Winda wiped the tears out of her eyes and looked around for her parents. She held 

her breath when the warrior with the scar on his face approached. Little Fox wet his 

pants and watched as it ran down onto his moccasins. The warrior took out his knife 

and slashed the boy's throat.