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A Thousand Rebel Yells
It was black dark and there was the disarming gush of the swollen, little stream, and I could only sense the rise of the earth above me. But I had done battle here before. I could feel it in my bones, as in the ghostly lines of Mary Fahl’s “Going...
Blindsided
It had been a chain of thrills. First, the answer of one bull from the top of the darkening ridge, screaming, rolling into a chorus of chuckles, earnest and deep. Then a second, 200 yards right, angry and urgent. And yet another, in the canyon below, maybe a half-mile...
I Will Give These Pups My All
As we grow old together, I’ll be there to gather the joy from every moment of their lives.
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The Treasure of Simply Belonging
For restless years I harbored an unrequited craving for a 28 gauge. It came from reading too much Mcintosh, and misconceptions, perhaps, of life and love. In a hundred fantasies, the little 28 would come as breathlessly to shoulder as my high school heartthrob, a...
Clayton Flowers
Never said nothin’ to nobody,’ folks said of Clayton Flowers. But he’d talk to me, about livin’ and even about dyin’. I’ll tell this the way Clayton Flowers told it once to me. Clayton was an old man himself then, the deeper side of...
Gloss and Glory
In the 60s it was hip to be bass, and anglers everywhere welcomed a whole new breed of American hero. By 1965, the bassing revolution was at full throttle and re-born bass fishing was rapidly becoming galaxial. It was hip to be bass. Popularity encouraged fraternity...
The Era of Belle
Perhaps there truly are angels among us. The journey to the mailbox should have been exciting. There was a flawless, expectant stillness to the air, as if the world held its breath in waiting. Dense, leaden clouds layered the bottom of an ashen sky, leaving the fields...
A Thing of Dying
In the 89th year of his being, Ben Willow had died where most completely he had lived, upon the hills of home, with a dog and a gun. A little less than midway through this book, iron-willed old Missouri-West Virginian Ben Willow throws himself mercilessly once more...