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Western Writers of America
Announces 2005 Spur Award Finalists

by Johnny D. Boggs

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. -- Western Writers of America has selected finalists for the 2005 Spur Awards honoring the best in Western literature.

WWA President Rita Cleary will announce the winners in the 15 categories on Saturday, March 19, at the National Festival of the West.

Finalists and winners will be honored June 14-18 at the WWA Convention in Spokane, Wash. Awards, for material published last year, are given for works whose inspiration, image, and literary excellence best represent the reality and spirit of the American West.

This years finalists:

Western Novel: WHOSE NAMES ARE UNKNOWN by Sanora Babb (University of Oklahoma Press); BUY THE CHIEF A CADILLAC by Rick Steber (Bonanza Publishing); USEFUL GIRL by Marcus Stevens (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill).
Novel of the West: BLOOD KIN by Henry Chappell (Texas Tech University Press); PEOPLE OF THE RAVEN by Kathleen O'Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear (Forge); THE INDIAN AGENT by Dan O'Brien (Lyons Press).
Original Mass-Market Paperback: STARING DOWN THE DEVIL by Peter Brandvold (Berkley); BROTHERHOOD OF BLOOD by J. Lee Butts (Berkley); VENGEANCE VALLEY by Richard S. Wheeler (Pinnacle).
First Novel: SANTA FE PASSAGE by Jon R. Bauman (St. Martin's Press/Truman Talley Books); THE GHOST OCEAN by Richard Benke (University of New Mexico Press); FIELD OF HONOR by D. L. Birchfield (University of Oklahoma Press).
Nonfiction-Biography: JIM COURTRIGHT OF FORT WORTH: HIS LIFE AND LEGEND by Robert K. DeArment (TCU Press); BLACK KETTLE: THE CHEYENNE CHIEF WHO SOUGHT PEACE BUT FOUND WAR by Thom Hatch (John Wiley & Sons); ISABELLA GREENWAY: AN ENTERPRISING WOMAN by Kristie Miller (University of Arizona Press).
Nonfiction-Contemporary: THE TEXAS RANGERS AND THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION by Charles H. Harris III and Louis R. Sadler (University of New Mexico Press); PHOTOGRAPHING FARMWORKERS IN CALIFORNIA by Richard Steven Street (Stanford University Press); MIRANDA: THE STORY OF AMERICA'S RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT by Gary L. Stuart (University of Arizona Press).
Nonfiction-Historical: THE OREGON TRAIL by David Dary (Alfred A. Knopf); WASHITA by Jerome A. Greene (University of Oklahoma Press); BEASTS OF THE FIELD by Richard Steven Street (Stanford University Press).
Short Nonfiction: BEYOND CUSTER HILL: CUSTER AND THE 7TH CAVALRY vs. 2000 INDIANS by Bob Boze Bell (True West Magazine); EMPTY SADDLES: DESERTION FROM THE DASHING U.S. CAVALRY by Judy Daubenmier (Montana, The Magazine of Western History); BLOOD FOR OIL by Jim Doherty (from JUST THE FACTS, Deadly Serious Press).
Short Fiction: A TRAIL ON THE DESERT by David Braly (Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine); THE OUTSIDER by Bob Morrish (from TEXAS RANGERS, Berkley); THE PROMOTION by Larry D. Sweazy (from TEXAS RANGERS, Berkley).
Juvenile Fiction: WORTH by Alexandria LaFaye (Simon and Schuster); FIRE IN THE HOLE! by Mary Cronk Farrell (Clarion Books); NOTHING HERE BUT STONES by Nancy Oswald (Henry Holt).
Juvenile Nonfiction: HEAR THAT TRAIN WHISTLE BLOW by Milton Meltzer (Random House Books for Young Readers); FRIDAY THE ARAPAHO BOY by Marc Simmons (University of New Mexico Press); RATTLESNAKE MESA...STORIES FROM A NATIVE AMERICAN CHILDHOOD by Ednah New Rider Weber (Lee & Low).
Drama Script: THE ALAMO by Leslie Bohem, Stephen Gaghan and John Lee Hancock (Touchstone Pictures ... Disney); HIDALGO by John Fusco (Touchstone Pictures ... Disney); DEADWOOD: PILOT by David Milch (Home Box Office).
Documentary Script: BILLY THE KID UNMASKED by Jessie Evans and Gary Parker (Discovery Channel/Morningstar Entertainment); THE WILDERNESS ROAD: SPIRIT OF A NATION by Paul A. Hutton and Carolyn H. Raine (Native Sun Productions); WILD WEST TECH: DEADWOOD TECH by Laura Verklan (The History Channel).
Poetry: CLOUD SEEDING: POETRY OF THE AMERICAN WEST by Stacy Gillett Coyle (High Plains Press); A THOUSAND MILES OF STARS by Walt McDonald (Texas Tech University Press); WHERE SKULLS SPEAK WIND by Larry D. Thomas (Texas Review Press).
Storyteller: JIM THORPE'S BRIGHT PATH by Joseph Bruchac, illustrator S. D. Nelson (Lee & Low); APPLES TO OREGON by Deborah Hopkinson, illustrator Nancy Carpenter (Simon and Schuster Children's Books); OLD COYOTE by Nancy Wood, illustrator Max Grafe (Candlewick Press).

WESTERN WRITERS OF AMERICA 2005 CONVENTION

June 14 - 18, 2005
Spokane, Washington

Convention contact: Carol Crigger, Ckcww@aol.com

Reservations call: 866-584-4674 or 509-924-9000
Mirabeau Park Hotel 1100 N.SullivanRoad,Spokane Valley, WA Website: http://www.mirabeauparkhotel.com/

Rate is $79.00 plus tax per night, which includes breakfast. Be sure to mention you're with Western Writers of America. Every room has an Internet hookup. Pets can be accommodated, there's plenty of parking, and a free shuttle to and from the airport. Be sure to call ahead, though, to make shuttle arrangements to meet your flight.

A Comfort Inn just across the street at 905 N. Sullivan Rd. 800-228-5150 or 509-924-3838. http://www.comfortinn.com/

A KOA Campground about five miles away at 3025 N. Barker Rd. Reservations: 800-562-3309 or 509-924-4722. http://www.koa.com/where/wa/47107/

CLAY AND THE LYNCH MOB

by Frazer Williamson

Marshal John Clay swung his feet down from his desk as the Quaker schoolteacher came through the door. "Miss Andrews?"
There was as much fire in Virginia Andrews' eyes as there was in her long red hair. "I am here with a complaint, Marshal Clay."
Clay waited.
"Against Sheriff Davis. He has allowed a moral outrage."
"Ah, Rex Harker."
"Sheriff Davis allowed Mr. Harker to be murdered by a lynch mob."
"Harker was a thief and a murderer, Miss Andrews. He killed Mrs. Evans and her foreman and stole her money before firing her ranch house."
"I know, Marshal. He also sold guns and whiskey to the Indians and rustled cattle and he would no doubt have killed Mrs. Evans' two daughters had they not hidden themselves so well. Sheriff Davis brought him in but, Mr. Harker is a human being and should have been protected until he stood trial. What are you going to do?"
"Why dont you sit down, Miss Andrews?"
"I just want to know what action you are going to take."
"Take a chair and I'll tell you." Miss Andrews sat. "As you know I've been away on my circuit, but I can tell you I am examining the circumstances of Harker's death."
"He was murdered, Marshal, and Sheriff Davis can tell who the men were who lynched Mr. Harker."
"Con Davis is no longer Sheriff. I asked for his badge."
"That's something, I suppose. So you know whom these men are. When will they be arrested?"
"Con Davis wouldn't say who they were. If I knew, I'd arrest them."
"Then ask him again. You had your feet up on your desk when I came in. I hope I won't be disappointed in you, Marshal Clay. You brought to justice the killers of the Morgan brothers. I hope you prove consistent."
"I'll try and not disappoint you, Miss Andrews."
Virginia Andrews got up. "Two more things," she said. "I want that piece of doggerel removed from the tree where they murdered Mr. Harker, and I want him to have a proper burial in the graveyard. If you haven't had time to notice, I can tell you Mr. Harker's grave is so shallow that his toes are sticking out of it."
"I'll see to it," Clay said.

* * *

"You come to give me back my badge?" Con Davis asked.
"Nope," Clay said. "I come to ask you again who the men were who lynched Rex Harker."
"See you took down that notice and allowed the Quakers to give him a proper burial. You think he deserved one."
The notice had said:

HERE HE LIES BENEATH THIS MARKER
THE CURSED REMAINS OF BAD REX HARKER
DESERTED CHRIST TO BECOME A BEAST
WAS HUNG FROM THE LIMB THAT'S FACIN' EAST.

"He didn't deserve lynchin'," Clay said. "He deserved a trial and a legal hangin'."
"Same thing in the end."
"No, I got me another set of outlaws to catch."
"I ain't sayin' who they were. Saved the price of a trial, and the Judge a journey."
"No way to go about gettin' your badge back."
"It ain't true that I just stood aside and let them take him. They would've killed
me if I'd made a stand."
"How many?"
"Enough."
"Not the whole population, then?"
"They came silent in the night."
"Why protect them?"
"You didn't see what he did out there at Mrs. Evans' ranch. I did. Made me sick to my stomach. He took a packhorse loaded with her property and I picked up his trail. Took
me a week to bring him from Mexico."
"Why'd you bring him in? Why not shoot him there if you felt that bad about what he done?"
Con Davis didn't answer.
"You were still a good Sheriff then. You did your duty, but you lost your nerve when it
came to protectin' him. Nothin' to be ashamed of if you face up to it."
"You callin' me a coward?"
"No. I'm sayin' it would take a man to say he was scared into givin' Harker to a lynch
mob. A man like that would get his badge back."
"They didn't hang him," Con Davis said. "He begged them for a quick break of his
neck, but they flung the rope over the branch and they hauled him up real slow 'till he was
chokin' and then they dropped him to do it over a few times more. He wasn't hung, he was strangled."
"You said he deserved it."
"I keep tellin' myself that. You can keep my badge, I don't deserve it."
"Stop whinin'. You ain't the only man who's ever done somethin' he ain't proud of. You're the only witness I got against them."
Clay let Con think awhile.
"There were seven," Con said, eventually.
As soon as he said it a bullet shattered the window and struck Con Davis. Clay rolled towards the door and was through it with his Colt in his hand.
He followed running footsteps along the street, and saw a bulky man ahead of him. The man turned, fired, missed. Clay stopped, steadied, and brought the man down.
The man was dead when he got to him. Clay recognized the man as Barney Carey, the baker. Clay went through his pockets taking with him all the contents before going
back to see to Con Davis. He got Con to the doctor and had the undertaker take Carey off the street. In his office Clay went through Carey's belongings. On a folded piece of paper he read:
"We the undersigned, uniting ourselves together for the laudable purpose of dealing with thieves and murderers and recovering stolen property, do pledge ourselves on our sacred honours, each to all others, do solemnly swear that we will reveal no secrets and never desert each other or our standard of justice so help us God."
Clay read through the names at the bottom of the paper.
"Now, Miss Andrews, you will see what I will do," he said aloud.

Kenny Rogers On the Set Of "Rio Diablo"

by Stephen Lodge

Friday, July 16, 2004
At Alamo Village in Bracketteville, Texas

My writing partner, Dave Cass, and I, flew to Odessa, Texas to meet our friend, Frank Dobbs, way back in 1974. After the flight, we drove all the way down to the Lone Star States Big Bend National Park. Our objective: to write a script we could take to country-western singer, Johnny Rodriguezs manager, Happy Shahan. Happy had told us he could raise the money to make a movie starring Johnny, and we believed him.

The three of us holed up in a stone cabin, located in a deer hunting compound -- owned by a friend of ours -- called Villa de la Mina (Village of the Mine), and cranked out our first draft in four sleepless days and nights.

On our way to our meeting with Happy, we stopped for the night in Del Rio, Texas and knocked out another polished draft of the script. The next day we arrived at Happys place a movie ranch called Alamo Village, in Bracketteville, Texas, made famous by John Wayne when he shot his movie, "The Alamo," there.

We gave Shahan the script, then waited around while he read it. Happy loved it. Rio Diablo was a go. Shahan lead us on down the road to San Antonio, where we stayed at the Menger Hotel while he met with the moneymen. Frank, Dave, and I, tried to relax.

Happy did raise some money that night three hundred thousand, to be exact. Excited, Frank drove on to Houston, while Dave and I flew back to Los Angeles. Then we all waited while Happy tried to raise the rest of the money.

Within a month, everything had fallen through. Rio Diablo was about to spend the next eighteen years in Hollywood purgatory -- as an everybody loves it, almost-made screenplay. Almost, that is, until Kenny Rogers producer got a good look at it in 1992.

Rogers producer loved Rio Diablo, too. He loved it so much he immediately gave it to Kenny to read. Rio Diablo wasnt Kenny Rogers usual fare -- the lead character is a hardened, grizzled bounty hunter who lets a young newlywed go with him on the hunt for the outlaws
who kidnapped the younger mans bride during a muddled bank robbery. Kenny's character dies in the end, which most stars don't want to do. But Rogers loved it. Loved it so much, he
wanted to do it as his next television special.
The Rio Diablo project didnt take long to go into pre-production once CBS had given their approval. By the end of the year, cast and crew were on location in Brackettville shooting.

Since I had moved to the Palm Springs area ten years earlier, and my health hadnt
been that good, I wasnt able to work on Rio Diablo. My wife, Beth, and I did fly to
the location. We stayed a week and, almost like tourists, watched from the sidelines
while Dave and Frank, and the rest of the cast and crew, worked their rear ends off in the September Texas heat on the Western Street at Alamo Village.

Its quite unusual when a movie is shot on the exact locations the script was written for.
But Rio Diablo has that distinction. The town was always to be the Alamo Village
Western Town, and the badlands were places we three writers had all walked together
in the Big Bend those eighteen years earlier when the script was being written.

Frank Dobbs worked as one of the producers on Rio Diablo, and Dave Cass directed the second-unit.

AuthorsDen

Stephen Lodge (author) on AuthorsDen

http://www.authorsden.com/externalsite.asp?authorID=12206&destURL=http://
employees.oxy.edu/jerry/bts/av.htm

THE WAY IT USED TO BE

by Don Johnson

Fort Davis is Texas , the way it was , the way it can never be again.

This tiny hamlet, tucked away in the Davis Mountains of Far West Texas has no railroad, no airport, no bus station. No major highway runs through it.
Itıs on the way to nowhere. If you go there, it has to be your destination.
But itıs a destination well worth the visit.

Surrounded by some of the most primitive, unspoiled land in the continental United States, it features an unstressed lifestyle, beautiful vistas, and an uncommonly pleasant climate.

Driving down the uncrowded street, you park where you want to instead of where you can find a space. You walk the main street thatıs lined with small shops filled with arts, crafts, and artifacts. Refresh yourself at an
old-fashioned soda fountain where they still build Cokes, cherry or vanilla
phosphates, ice cream sodas, malts and shakes by hand the way you might
remember from a fortunate childhood.

Feel the mind-numbing pace of todayıs hectic scramble slipping away in the aura of a more relaxed time and place. Thereıs no mall, no movie theater, no porn shops, no zoning, no municipal business regulations, and no traffic lights.

Visit the National Historic Site and youıll see probably the best restored
frontier fort in America. Listen as a ghostly bugler summons long dead
troopers to assemble on the parade grounds. Hear the shouted commands, the dancing hoofbeats, the clatter of military hardware as the regiment
maneuvers on the parade grounds.

Drive just 18 miles on up the mountain to McDonald Observatory. The huge telescopes include the new Hobby-Ebberly Telescope with the worldıs largest mirror. Evening "star parties" under some of the worldıs darkest skies are not to be missed.

The Davis Mountains State Park is one of the most scenic parks in Texas with a thousand feet of altitude differential within the park boundaries. Hiking trails join with those coming out of the National Historic Site (the fort)
for those who enjoy vigorous activity. Nearby, The Chihuahuan Desert
Research Institute and Visitorıs Center are located on 507 acres featuring
remarkable displays of native flowers, cacti and shrubs. And, just a short
drive puts you within sight of the mysterious Marfa Lights.

But as enjoyable as all these exciting attractions are, they donıt really
define the areaıs personality. A distinctive American culture has grown up
out of the canyons and mountains that make up this spectacular area. This
is, and always has been cattle country.

Based on land and cattle worked by family and neighbor, the land has
developed a special breed of individuals steeped in a tradition of self
reliance, determination, neighborliness, and pride in the skills required by
a demanding livelihood. For a short time, you can share in that culture.

Although the mantle of that heritage rests easily on the shoulders of most
of the patriarchs and some of their heirs, it chafes on some of the younger
generation who would prefer to ³take the money and run.²

Economic and social pressures, as well as an out-of-control
environmentalism, have combined to put the future of large, family-owned
ranches in dire jeopardy. Land is rapidly being divided into smaller and
smaller units, sold to wealthy men who make their money doing something
else. It is quite likely that this tough but gentle culture will die with the present generation. But it is a culture that finds a lingering ghost of itself deep in the soul of every real Texan, maybe even every real Westerner.

Today, if you rise early and are lucky, you can still get a look at this
rare breed as some of them stop in for a predawn cup of coffee, saddled
horses in parked trailers ready for the dayıs work.

Spurs clink against the floor as they settle into their chairs and remove
their well-creased hats. Faces are rugged and sunburned. Collectively
controlling assets valued at many millions of dollars, neither their
appearance nor their manner would indicate it.

Their voices are soft and low as they discuss the price of cattle, lack of
rain, or the condition of the range. The conversation switches smoothly into
Spanish to accommodate a couple of Mexicans who have joined the table.

A query from the waitress if one would care for more coffee is answered
with a "Please, maıam." The talk is heavily laced with such phrases as "yes
sir," or "no, sir," such as "please" and "thank you." When they inquire
about one anotherıs health, you get the strong feeling they really care.
They may live many miles apart, but they are neighbors, bound together by a heritage too strong to abandon, pressured by outside forces too powerful to
ignore.

One more tilt of the cup as they swallow down the last dregs of coffee and then theyıre gone.

Texas , and the world , will be the worse for it.

Don Johnson 972-563-3659 jbsgifthouse.com jbsbookhouse.com

FROM AFRICA TO THE AMERICAN WEST

with Allen Lee

Santa Barbara, California

A good friend of mine started a new job at a Santa Barbara, Ca., museum. Ive made presentations at Jeff's old place of employment, The Autry Museum Of Western Heritage in Los Angeles many times about the history of Black Cowboys, etc. I volunteered the ironic observation of how the racial demographics of Santa Barbara has changed since the Spanish days from a town with one of the highest Black populations per capita to one of the lowest today. He asked for any information I had about Black history in Santa Barbara so I rifled through some old notes. The following is the essence of the correspondence I had with my friend.

A good place to start recognizing African contact with Old West California near Santa Barbara is with the arrivals of New Spain's ocean explorers Juan Cabrillo in 1542 and Sebastion Vizcaino 1602. Historians state that Blacks, (free Black Portuguese and African slaves), had a major role both as sailors and shipbuilders on New Spain's ships of conquest and exploration in the Pacific and both Cabrillo and Vizcaino were noted as having Black sailors on their ships. Slaves were said to have fled the Spanish ships that landed on the California coast and sought refuge among California Indians like the Chumash of Santa Barbara. These early contacts in California precede Anglo-American colonization contacts (Plymouth Rock and Jamestown) by several years. I've often tried to discover stories from Native Californians that might retell first sightings of a Black person, similar to that of Zuni contact with Esteban, but unlike the Zuni, several California indigenous cultures have become extinct since contact and the stories have been difficult to find.
American whalers began to show up on the California coast about the same time as the Spanish Missions in the late 18th century. People seldom
associate the heyday of "Moby Dick" Pacific whaling with the pastoral "Spanish Mission" era of California, but such is the case. The American whaling ships had free Black northerners and escaped slaves from the south as well as Blacks from the Azores Islands off the west coast of Africa. The Azorean whalers on the Santa Barbara coast typically classified themselves as Portuguese rather than Black or White, but other census takers noted the differences. While Spanish settlers of African descent arrived from Mexico to the towns and cattle ranches near the Santa Barbara mission, Black whalers worked the associated trades of the sea. It is important to note that the Chumash had a whaling society before contact, whether that translated into cultural compatibility with European and African newcomers is not known. The Bancroft Library interpreted the 1785 Spanish census of Santa Barbara at 19.3 percent Blacks and Mulattoes.

There are a few significant Black characters in California history that have direct association with Santa Barbara, the first is Luis Quintero. Luis Quintero was one of the original Spanish settlers to establish Los Angeles. As the story goes he was evicted from the Pueblo for not performing assigned duties and started ranching in the outskirts. Historians basically discuss Luis Quintero not only because he was listed in the Spanish census as a Negro but the fact that his granddaughter, Maria Rita Valdez, owned the land which eventually became known as Beverly Hills. What usually isn't discussed is what happened to him after he was evicted. Luis Quintero is reported to have moved to Santa Barbara to be near his three daughters who married soldiers stationed at the Presidio. He died in Santa Barbara in 1810.

The second person is Allen Light, a Black Sea otter hunter also known as "Black Steward." Allen Light arrived in Santa Barbara in 1835 from
Philadelphia. He was in possession of "Sailor Protection Papers" which basically protected Black sailors from being claimed as slaves anywhere. He started otter hunting around Santa Barbara and became fairly prosperous working under the license of the famous Captain Dana, author of "Two Years Before The Mast," 1840. Allen Light eventually became a Mexican citizen after serving as a mercenary for the future Governor of California, Juan Bautista Alvarado. Governor Alvarado appointed Allen Light "principal arbiter of the National Armada" to help police the waters near Santa Barbara.

The third person is one of great historical note in California, his name being James Beckworth. James Beckworth is the Black equivalent of Kit Carson or Daniel Boone and has several claims to fame in California, one being Beckworth Pass in the mountains northeast of Sacramento. Another famous event was a horse-stealing raid he, Mountain man Peg-Leg Smith and a Ute Indian Chief named Walkara committed on ranchers in the Riverside San Bernardino area. His story is that of a runaway child slave who after being captured by Crow Indians reportedly raised to the rank of War Chief. He later rode with Pathfinder John C. Fremont and Kit Carson during the California Bear Flag Revolt, which wrested California away from Mexico and into the hands of the U.S. Beckworth worked a military dispatch and mail route from Nipomo, Ca. to Monterey, Ca. after the conquest, reporting to then Lt. William T. Sherman of later Civil War fame. In December of 1848, Beckworth was riding from Dana's ranch near Nipomo to Monterey when he made a stop at Mission San Miguel, privatized and occupied by the Reed Family, when he discovered one of the most notorious murders in California history, ranking with the Manson murders and the "mysterious" murders of OJ Simpson's wife and companion. The entire Reed family, a Black cook, and an Indian sheepherder had just been murdered by former soldiers of John C. Fremont. Beckworth reported that he hid in the shadows and made a quick escape. The irony that both James Beckworth and the murderers rode for Fremont and may have recognized each other at the scene may raise an eyebrow, but to date there is no suspicion directed towards Beckworth. Beckworth is reported to have told Sherman and other military officers what happened when he arrived at Monterey and a Posse was formed. The killers were caught near Summerland, a town just south of Santa Barbara, two died while resisting arrest and two others were tried in Santa Barbara and shot by a nine man firing squad, James Beckworth claims to have been part of that firing squad.

Another notable reading is from a Black writer named Thomas Fleming in 1923. He writes that Santa Barbara had a sizable Black population more similar to a southern town rather than a predominately White western town.

In November of 1949, the performance of one of the first Negro Ballet troupes in America hailed from Los Angeles to Santa Barbara for its first professional show. They were well received according to newspaper accounts in Santa Barbara while other California communities still placed racial concerns above artistic merit.

Santa Barbara is a friendly community with a renowned California university today. The housing market is exclusive to say the least, and racial demographics are most likely affected by housing affordabilty. The town is rich in history and still has the old Santa Barbara Mission available for tourist and church service. If you ever visit Santa Barbara, stop by the Museum of Natural History ask for Jeff Barber and tell him that Allen Lee sent you.

Thanks for reading,
Allen L. Lee

HOWDY FROM GEORGE WHILHITE

Just a note to update y'all. Unfortunately, none of these are westerns.

Just got approved to make a presentation (e-Write Essay: An Evaluation
Tool Used With PLATO) at a developmental education conference in New
Orleans on April 14 (my birthday). On Feb. 14 (Valentine's Day), Rebecca
and I will have been together for 23 years. She still has the little copper ring I bought for her that day at a medieval fair. So, we're going to celebrate that anniversary, Valentine's Day, AND my birthday in the Big Easy!

Also, I just got word that my short story, "The Hero Brotherhood," has
been accepted for an international anthology--INSIGHTS: An Anthology of
the World's Great Short Stories--for release in March or April.

Say hi to everyone for me. Because I'm getting off to go to New Orleans, I won't be able to get off for WWA, but I couldn't really pass up an expense-paid trip to the French Quarter, now could I? :-)

NICKLE PLATED DREAM

2005: Novelist Stephen Lodge Signs on For One More With Behler Publications

STEPHEN LODGE, author of the novels, "Charley Sunday's Texas Outfit!" and "Shadows of Eagles," also the co-writer for the Kenny Rogers' Western epic, "Rio Diablo;" "The Honkers," starring James Coburn & Anne Archer; and "Kingdom of the Spiders," with "Star Trek's" William Shatner, has signed once more with Behler Publications, of Lake Forest, California, to publish his third novel, "Nickel-Plated Dream," a slam-bang, two-fisted action-packed adventure set in the 1950s, following a young Hollywood hopeful in his quest for fame and fortune; an impressionable look back in time to an era that no longer exists, when a young person could still grow up believing in traditional Western Values.

Your chat hosts,

Marge, Sandy, Kim