By Guest Author, Kat Flannery
While writing LAKOTA HONOR I did
a ton of research. When writing a historical novel there are certain elements
that need to be correct. With this particular novel I needed to know where the
Lakota natives originated from, their language, what they ate and their
remedies for ailments and injuries.
What I admire the most about
the Lakota Natives was that they never left things to waste. When hunting
buffalo they used everything on the animal including the bone marrow. The same
can be said for herbs and roots the Lakota took what they
needed.
Below are just a few of the
natural remedies I researched and what they were used for.
 |
| Wild Sage |
PejiHota ape Blaskaska—Flat
leaked sage—Wild Sage
Leaves are boiled and drank
for upset stomach, and colds.
This plant was also used for religious ceremonies.
 |
| Purple Mallow |
Pejuta NatiyaziLya—Incense
for head—Purple Mallow
This was an important plant
for the Lakota. When the root was burned the smoke was inhaled for head colds,
or used to bathe aching muscles. The patient stands with a blanket over their
heads in front of hot coals in which the plant is laid on top. The patient then
inhales the smoke into their lungs for relief of their symptoms. Known to smell like coconut.
 |
| Bitteroot |
Sinkpe tawote—Muskrats
food—Sweet Flag or Bitterroot
This is the Lakota’s most
traditional medicine. Found in the shallow parts of lakes and rivers.
The plant has been used to
cure almost every known ill, but its dominant uses are for cold congestion,
sore throat, and upset stomach. The root can be chewed or drank.
 |
| Slippery Elm |
Pe’ tuntunpa—Slippery
Elm
Found in elm trees, the bark
is used for numerous illnesses. The bark is ground into a powder and added to
water makes a paste to spread onto burns, skin wounds, cold sores, boils, abscesses
and toothaches. Placed in a cup of boiling water the Lakota people would drink
it to help with ulcers, sore throats, stomach ailments.
 |
| Witch Hazel |
Witch Hazel
This was used for
inflammation and swelling. Some tribes boiled the leaves and rubbed them onto
the legs of tribesmen who were participating in sporting games. Boiled twigs
were used to cure aching muscles.
Bestselling Western Romance
author, Kat Flannery takes you on an exciting journey with the release of her
new Historical Paranormal Romance, LAKOTA HONOR.
Fate has brought them together, but will a promise
tear them apart?
In the small
town of Willow Creek, Colorado, Nora Rushton spends most of her days locked up
in her home with a father who resents her and fighting off unwanted marriage
proposals from the wealthy Elwood Calhoun. Marked as a witch, Nora must hide
her healing powers from those who wish to destroy all the witkowin—crazy women. What she doesn't know is
that a bounty hunter is hot on her trail.
Lakota native
Otakatay has an obligation to fulfill. He has been hired to kill the witkowin.
In a time when race and difference are a threat and innocence holds no ground,
courage, love and honor will bring Nora and Otakatay together as they fight for
their freedom. Will the desire to fulfill his promise drive Otakatay to kill
Nora? Or will the kindness he sees in her blue eyes push him to be the man he
once was?
Reviews:
"Transport
back to the old west with this paranormal historical, and its alpha hero, and a
heroine hiding her secret talents."
—Shannon
Donnelly, author of the Mackenzie Solomon Urban Fantasy series
"Ms. Flannery doesn’t shy away from writing gritty scenes or
about unpleasant topics…That’s what good writing is all about—bringing out
strong emotions in a reader."
—Peggy L. Henderson, bestselling author of the Yellowstone Romance
Series
"Those who relish the conflict of a heroic half-breed trapped
between the white man's world and the Indian will fall in love with LAKOTA
HONOR."
—Cindy Nord, author of No Greater Glory
"LAKOTA HONOR weaves a fast paced and beautiful prose that lures
you through every chapter and leaves you wanting more."
—Erika Knudsen, paranormal author of Monarchy of Blood
Excerpt of LAKOTA HONOR
PROLOGUE
Colorado Mountains, 1880
The blade slicing his throat
made no sound, but the dead body hitting the ground did. With no time to stop,
he hurried through the dark tunnel until he reached the ladder leading out of
the shaft.
He’d been two hundred feet below ground for
ten days, with no food and little water. Weak and woozy, he stared up the
ladder. He’d have to climb it and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wiped the
bloody blade on his torn pants and placed it between his teeth. Scraped
knuckles and unwashed hands gripped the wooden rung.
The earth swayed. He closed
his eyes and forced the spinning in his head to cease. One thin bronzed leg lifted
and came down wobbly. He waited until his leg stopped shaking before he climbed
another rung. Each step caused pain, but was paired with determination. He made
it to the top faster than he’d thought he would. The sky was black and the air
was cool, but fresh. Thank goodness it was fresh.
He took two long breaths before he emerged
from the hole. The smell from below ground still lingered in his nostrils;
unwashed bodies, feces and mangy rats. His stomach pitched. He tugged at the
rope around his hands. There had been no time to chew the thick bands around
his wrists when he’d planned his escape. It was better to run than crawl, and
he chewed through the strips that bound his feet instead. There would be time
to free his wrists later.
He pressed his body against
the mountain and inched toward the shack. He frowned. A guard stood at the
entrance to where they were. The blade from the knife pinched his lip, cutting
the thin skin and he tasted blood. He needed to get in there. He needed to say
goodbye. He needed to make a promise.
The tower bell rang mercilessly. There was no
time left. He pushed away from the rocky wall, dropped the knife from his mouth
into his bound hands, aimed and threw it. The dagger dug into the man’s chest.
He ran over, pulled the blade from the guard and quickly slid it across his
throat. The guard bled out in seconds.
He tapped the barred window
on the north side of the dilapidated shack. The time seemed to stretch. He
glanced at the large house not fifty yards from where he stood. He would come
back, and he would kill the bastard inside.
He tapped again, harder this
time, and heard the weak steps of those like him shuffling from inside. The
window slid open, and a small hand slipped out.
“Toksha ake—I shall see you
again,” he whispered in Lakota.
The hand squeezed his once,
twice and on the third time held tight before it let go and disappeared inside
the room.
A tear slipped from his dark
eyes, and his hand, still on the window sill, balled into a fist. He swallowed
past the sob and felt the burn in his throat. His chest ached for what he was
leaving behind. He would survive, and he would return.
Men shouted to his right, and
he crouched down low. He took one last look around and fled into the cover of
the forest.
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| Author Kat Flannery |
Kat
Flannery has loved writing ever since she
was a girl. She is often seen jotting her ideas down in a little black book.
When not writing, or researching, Kat enjoys snuggling on her couch with a hot
chocolate and a great book.
Her
first novel, CHASING CLOVERS became an Amazon’s bestseller in Historical and
Western romance. LAKOTA HONOR is Kat’s second book, and she is currently hard at work
on the third.
When not
focusing on her creative passions, Kat is busy with her three boys and doting
husband.
Rena Beers is an elder who makes beautiful traditional cradleboards. She is 98 years old.
The tradition of making cradleboards was passed down by her parents and
grandparents.
