I have lived with my family on our little homestead in the Dakota prairie all my eighteen years. It is all I have ever known, and it is Indian territory. My father told us that the Indians are savage, ruthless killers: to be treated as animals. "They are not human," he said. But I did not feel that way at all.
I have kept a a secret from my family since I was a little girl... Should they ever find out, I am afraid to know what they would do. You see, I made a friend at the creek one afternoon many years ago: an Indian. He was a young Oglala Lakota brave who called himself Wakíŋyaŋ Lúta. Red Thunder. I had never expected to see him again, but one day, I did: as a virile young man, wounded and on the edge of death...
~Highest Rankings: #1 in Indigenous, #42 in Historical Fiction, #6 in "Horses", #1 in "Colonial" and "Native" #425 in Romance, #3 in "Rescue."