Louisiana Man

Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book Louisiana Man by Lloyd Antypowich, Xlibris US
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Author: Lloyd Antypowich ISBN: 9781493119578
Publisher: Xlibris US Publication: November 11, 2013
Imprint: Xlibris US Language: English
Author: Lloyd Antypowich
ISBN: 9781493119578
Publisher: Xlibris US
Publication: November 11, 2013
Imprint: Xlibris US
Language: English

There was never a stronger desire that flows through the veins of a Louisiana man to be a cowboy than in Tom Menzer. At nineteen, he had made a good start to do that, but Pontchartrain, Louisiana, did not seem to be the right place, so he turned his horse west and headed for Texas where the real cowboys came from. The life he lived is nothing more than a harrowing experience. If he made friends with the native Indians, then the white man would hate him, would call him a squaw man, and would tell him that his life was worth nothing more than the average Indian. If he took the side of the white man, then the Indians would look to lift his scalp. Tom was not a killer, and he hated killing. But he found himself wearing a necktie that was just seconds away from taking his life by some soldiers that were paid by a very rich rancher to dispose of him. It was after that he vowed never to be caught by the law. He traveled north to Oklahoma where he made friends with a village of natives. There he hunted and contributed his share of food for the village. The chief rewarded him with his daughter. When she was a little baby still on her mothers breast, her family was massacred by the natives. She was found crying under some small bushes, and a warrior took her and gave her to the chief whose wife was nursing a young son and nursed her to become a very lovely maiden. The chief later told Tom that his wife was not native, and he had waited a long time to find the right man for his daughter. When the horse thieves tried to kill him and harm his wife and family, it was only then that he used his gun to kill the thieves. Suffering from the buckshot in his back, he had a man at a fort near Calgary dig the pellets out with his hunting knife. You can read on and find out how Tom and Raven Feather learned to love each other in a deep and enduring way.

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There was never a stronger desire that flows through the veins of a Louisiana man to be a cowboy than in Tom Menzer. At nineteen, he had made a good start to do that, but Pontchartrain, Louisiana, did not seem to be the right place, so he turned his horse west and headed for Texas where the real cowboys came from. The life he lived is nothing more than a harrowing experience. If he made friends with the native Indians, then the white man would hate him, would call him a squaw man, and would tell him that his life was worth nothing more than the average Indian. If he took the side of the white man, then the Indians would look to lift his scalp. Tom was not a killer, and he hated killing. But he found himself wearing a necktie that was just seconds away from taking his life by some soldiers that were paid by a very rich rancher to dispose of him. It was after that he vowed never to be caught by the law. He traveled north to Oklahoma where he made friends with a village of natives. There he hunted and contributed his share of food for the village. The chief rewarded him with his daughter. When she was a little baby still on her mothers breast, her family was massacred by the natives. She was found crying under some small bushes, and a warrior took her and gave her to the chief whose wife was nursing a young son and nursed her to become a very lovely maiden. The chief later told Tom that his wife was not native, and he had waited a long time to find the right man for his daughter. When the horse thieves tried to kill him and harm his wife and family, it was only then that he used his gun to kill the thieves. Suffering from the buckshot in his back, he had a man at a fort near Calgary dig the pellets out with his hunting knife. You can read on and find out how Tom and Raven Feather learned to love each other in a deep and enduring way.

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