I’m thrilled to announce that my final book in the series, By the Light of the Moon, releases today! It was not a book I expected to write, but when I finished Silver Moon, Maang-ikwe’s (Loon Woman) story begged to be told. And so I listened. Here’s what readers are saying about the book…
Harvest Moon: A TALE OF FINDING GRACE AND BLESSING AMONGST LIFE’S HARDSHIPS
Harvest Moon is probably one of the best historical fiction novels I have ever read. I have come away deep in thought, feeling somewhat like I’ve had a mystical experience and one I will never forget.”Viga Boland for Readers’ Favorite
In the wilds of 19th century Ontario, Maang-ikwe, a young Ojibwe woman, falls into a forbidden love, breaks her father’s honor, and surrenders her trust to someone who betrays it. The abuse she suffers divides her from her tribe and causes her to give up what she holds most dear.
Niin-mawin must come to grips with his culture being ripped away from him. Brought up in a “white man’s” school, he suffers through an enforced “civilized” education and separation from his family. When a man he respects reveals a secret about Niin-mawin’s past, he embarks on a search for the person he hopes can mend the part of his heart that’s always been missing.
Both Maang-ikwe and Niin-mawin wonder how a harvest of pain and sorrow will impact their lives. Will they find the blessings amongst the hardships, or will they allow the results of division and abuse to taint their hearts forever?
Fans of historical fiction, Native American fiction, Christian historical fiction, clean romance, and literary fiction will be moved by this deep, heartfelt novel.
“There wasn’t a single thing that was out of place or didn’t make sense. I would highly recommend this historical fiction novel to anyone who loves reading stories with intricate plots and powerful characters.” Rabina Tanveer for Readers’ Favorite
“Immersive and emotional. Supported brilliantly by strong secondary characters and foils that leap off the page, this novel is culturally insightful, engaging, and cleverly structured.” Self-Publishing Review
“Knipfer does an outstanding job of cementing place, time, and culture against the backdrop of evolving relationships. These approaches lend a solid feel of authenticity and attraction to her plot to keep readers both educated and engrossed, as spiritual and social matters evolve.” D. Donavon for Midwest Book Review
September 8th, 1862
Red Rock Reservation, Ontario
My mother always said that one day I’d get ripped open by my stubbornness, and she was right. It’s my fool, stubborn heart which led to Ignacio’s banishment and will most likely lead to mine.
A harvest moon of orange glows in the evening sky like a pumpkin guiding my steps. My feet squash down the mounded soil as I walk through the corn in the field. I hope I have not been followed. I turn my head to watch, but I see no one in the shadows. Some spidery strands of corn silk cling to my hide dress. Tufts of silk spring from the corn ears, brown and brittle like an old woman’s hair.
I walk deeper into the maze of stalks. Wide, curved leaves as big as my arm cling to me as I pass. Most are dry and they crunch as I wade into them. They are reluctant to see me go. Perhaps the corn wonders when I will ripen.
My hand finds the curve of my belly under my doeskin dress. I wear the traditional clothes of my clan with pride. They were forbidden at school, but I’m no longer a girl. I will not go to the white man’s place of learning anymore.
With the white man came his ways. They want to make the Anishinaabe white, but we are not. The Black Robes say they teach us civilized ways, but they are the ones who are not civilized. It is the white men who need to be taught this, for they are sick with greed. What grows inside me springs from such a place.
I can still feel his greedy hands on me.
A knife-like pain suddenly presses against my back. I stop in the
shelter of the last row of corn. A warm stream runs down my legs.
I look up at the moon and groan. It is time for the harvest to come. Time to bear the sin of a needy man . . . a man I thought I could trust.
“Errr. . .”
I pant and crouch down. Fear rises in my throat like bile. A heat rushes down my back. My legs tremble.
Should I have rid myself of this seed?
The thought rolls in my mind like the waves of Gitchi-gami. Wiineta-gikendan told me to. But she did not say why. She is as her name, which means: Only she knows. She is a Medawin woman, my teacher, and she knows many things. She wanted me to take an infusion of wild parsley and pennyroyal to flush this seed out months ago, but I could not. Gitchi-manidoo stopped me, spoke to me. I trust him. He is bigger than man and his lust. He will take this dirty seed and make him clean. He will make me clean.
“Rrrr . . .”
I pant and wait for the right moment, as I have seen done. The time comes when I can no longer resist. It pulls at me. It threatens to tear me apart. Finally, I can stand it no longer.
I push forth a child—a son. With shaky hands, I cut the cord with my foraging knife and tie the stump off with a piece of leather fringe from my dress. I cradle him in my arms, not caring that he is slick with the life of my womb.
He wails, and I join him. I cry for what I have lost—my innocence and the man that I love.
Thanks for reading and celebrating with me!
Visit the “BOOKS” tab in the menu for more details about Harvest Moon and the the other titles in the series.