Even James Becker Needed Lots of Help on This One! Fun Mystery Thriller! Check out John Betcher's Latest!

All that remained was for the agent
 to package the biologic for maximum
 dispersal and to add the explosive –
 Chinese fireworks known as M-80s
 would work just fine.

Rodney had no idea that, as a point of law, the dollar was neither necessary, nor in and of itself, sufficient, to establish a confidential relationship between us. That required a combination of expectation and intent. I leaned forward and flattened the wrinkled dollar on my desk blotter, taking time to repair each dog-eared corner. If I agreed to listen to Rodney, and maybe to help him with his concerns, it was unlikely I would be paid for my trouble. Then again, how often does a client pop into a lawyer’s office with a “big discovery?” He had captured my interest. After fixing the bill to my satisfaction, I folded it in half and tucked it in a shirt pocket. 
“You just hired yourself a lawyer,” I said. “You’ve got your confidentiality. But all I’m agreeing to do at this point is hear you out. I can’t guarantee I can be of any help until I know more. Understand?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Good,” I said. 
“Then let’s hear all about it, starting at the beginning if you don’t mind.” Rodney slid back in the chair, his hands gripping the armrests. He cracked his neck to both sides before beginning his tale. “It was yesterday afternoon,” he said. “Sunday . . . and I was out on the John Deere checking my fields, you know . . . and all of a sudden I hear this sound. It was a kinda weird sound, you know?” 
“Not really. Can you be more specific?” I had heard a lot of weird sounds in my day. Rodney thought for a moment. “It was kinda like whoosh-thud . . . tumble, tumble, tumble,” he said. He could have stuck with “weird” if that was the best he could do.

Bear Wave (Photo credits: Giphy)

 “Go on,” I said. “So I stood up and looked toward the sound.” He raised a hand to his brow and craned his neck, as though searching the horizon. “And something was knocking down my corn, like a big animal or something . . . not like a deer, more clumsy than that . . . maybe like a bear.” He looked to me for understanding. 
“A bear,” I said, nodding. It wasn’t a total impossibility that Rodney had encountered a bear in Ottawa County. There had been two or three confirmed sightings of black bear in the area over the past ten years. But his hypothesis wasn’t particularly likely either. I don’t remember anyone saying the other bears made a whoosh-thud, tumble sound. Then again, many interpretations are possible in the mind of an eyewitness . . . or in this case, ear-witness.
 “This thing, whatever it was, knocked down maybe thirty or forty feet of head-high corn stalks, in a straight line,” he continued. “I saw the last ones go down.” He clapped one flattened hand downward onto the other. “Then all was quiet,” he said, passing a benediction over the serenity in my office. He checked to make sure I was tracking. I gave him two thumbs up. “Anyway,” he went on, “this thing’s trail was pretty obvious in the corn. But not knowing what in the heck it was, I was a little . . . you know . . . reluctant to investigate.” Yeah. He was afraid it was a bear. “But I found a good size wrench in a fender box and decided to take a chance.” He made a hammering motion as he wielded the imaginary wrench. “So I got off the tractor and slipped into the corn field, nice and quiet like.” Rodney’s story-telling momentum was gaining steam as he worked his way along. This was probably a first rendition of the “big discovery” story. He would no doubt smooth out earlier scenes on future iterations. I stroked my chin as if contemplating the implications of Rodney’s tale thus far.
In truth, he hadn’t said much of consequence yet, at least as far as I was concerned.

~~~

 The largest FMD epidemic in U.S. history occurred in 1914 when diseased animals were transported to the stock yards in Chicago. Stock yards. 

Of course, we have no idea how many have tried to "create" it...

The Critical Element

Book 5: James Beck Series

John L. Betcher

If you've read the James Beck Series you already know what this latest exudes... His back-handed witty and/or facetious comments that may or may not be received well by the police officials with whom he gets involved! I enjoy them in the books--I don't know how I would accept them if I were the receiver of this wit...LOL 

James Beck has a high security clearance, higher than most of us even understand--and his wife's may be just as high... And they are both definitely higher than any local police have, much to their irritation. Intelligence for each? Different but generally, they communicate quite effectively and work so well together than it is almost like they are making love... In other words, I very much enjoy this couple...They are both loving, trustworthy, and dedicated to keeping America safe and secure. In this story, James is on the frontline, his wife in the background and he doesn't even share her name or reference her when she gets more information faster that any of the FBI specialists... Most of you will easily guess why...

Now you may quickly wonder what the opening excerpts are today--cows, a bear, and what looks like a bowling ball... Well, that's exactly right...That's what James was faced with as he began his $1 dollar discussion with Rodney Holton. (BTW, did you know that you weren't buying confidentiality with $1? I always did believe that, so we learned something from our lawyer series!)

Now Holton was a bit of a shyster and everybody knew it, but he would tell such stories, that some people would always listen... Beck did for a dollar's worth... But the story made him curious enough that he later went out to the farm to see it himself--and paid $39 more than he'd been paid! Boy, this guy is good!

Or Was...

Because Rodney wasn't far wrong in describing what he'd found on his farm as a meteorite. But when Beck saw it, he decided while it might have come out of the air, that it was probably man-made--and looked like a burnt bowling ball, maybe. Rodney had it all rigged out in his yard, even though it had not landed there and was selling views for $20/head...

Wonder how that compared to the money he lost on all the heads of cows he lost...

Confused? Everybody was! Because before long, Rodney's discovery had been stolen!

And his cattle became ill about the same time...

Soon many were concluding that the cattle had become ill from the meteorite, and it wasn't very long before the government had come, killed all his cattle and burned down his barn. That was bad enough, but it didn't seem that they were concerned about the theft of his, hopefully, very valuable prize from the sky! Now, the book doesn't say, but I can just imagine that Rodney immediately started negotiating with the loss of his cattle, his livelihood and his valuable meteorite and was soon somewhere in a very warm climate, living in luxury for the rest of his life...

In the meantime, Beck had been the only one who listened to a neighbor of Rodney. Blastus looked bad, smelled terribly and seemed a little "off" but really had PTSD from his horrible time in Vietnam and no help since then. Beck immediately realized what shape he was in and started to wade through what he was telling that he'd seen. He'd gone to the Sheriff to explain that he thought that his neighbor was selling drugs because of the activity he'd seen at off hours... But working with him, Beck soon was picking up clues that only he was using... and, in essence, he had concluded that there were two different events--possibly terrorist attacks--from two different sources. But nobody was really willing to accept what he was suggesting.

So, like Beck is prone to do, he called in his own help--Bull! And if you don't know this character, then it's worth reading at least one of the books to meet him! So with Beth and Bull's help, Beck soon had a handle on what and who was doing what. Beth was getting worried, but she continued to feed both Beck and Bull additional information even while they were separately trying to tackle what they believed was taking place--at exactly the same time. Fortunately, they got help just "in the nick of time..." LOL but it certainly made for an exciting, fascinating ending! I loved it!

Each of the books is free-standing, even though the series characters are basically the same for each book. So, this is a perfect time to discover why Betcher's series has steadily gained a following that moved this relatively new author quickly into a best-selling status... Adding an Epilogue to spotlight what had later happened to Blastus is a perfect illustration why this writer brings in more and more readers (See Below!)

If you don't like this series, I will be totally amazed... If you enjoy mystery, thrills, and humorous main characters...hey, this is an unusual group of wonderfully heart-warming characters! Highly recommended.


GABixlerReviews

When I told the receptionist I was there to meet Benny Volnscheid, she recognized the name immediately. “You mean Blastus,” she said with a smile. “He’s in the PT area right now. Just follow the signs.” She pointed me in the right direction. “And keep your ears peeled.” 
I had no idea what that meant, but took her advice concerning the signs. As I approached the doorway labeled “Physical Therapy,” I could hear the sounds of an acoustic guitar strumming and a ragged chorus of male voices belting out the chorus to Old Stewball Was a Race Horse emanating from within. I opened the door and stepped inside. On the far side of the room, adjacent to a wall of cloudy windows, a guitarist sat astride a black vinyl exercise bench, one hand banging the guitar strings, and singing for all he was worth – the obvious leader of this tone deaf glee club. A group of maybe twenty young men, mostly amputees, sat gathered around him and were obviously responsible for a majority of the racket. My eyes left the musician momentarily then darted back for a second look. He was almost unrecognizable owing to the short haircut, the clean shaven face, and the bright plaid flannel shirt. But I had no doubt, the guitarist was my formerly reeking and dissolute buddy, Benny Volnscheid. 
When Benny noticed my presence, he lifted his chin in acknowledgment, but didn’t interrupt the song. I leaned on the wall and listened, a smile glued to my face. . . . 

Oh the fairgrounds were crowded, and Stewball was thereBut the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare. And a-way up yonder, ahead of them all, Came a-prancin' and a-dancin' my noble Stewball.I bet on the grey mare, I bet on the bay. If I'd have bet on ol' Stewball, I'd be a free man today. Oh the hoot owl, she hollers, and the turtle dove moans. I'm a poor boy in trouble, and I'm a long way from home. Ol’ Stewball was a racehorse, and I wish he were mine. He never drank water, he always drank wine.

When the song was over, the singers erupted in cheers and applause for ol’ Blastus.

~~~

Amazon TOP 100 Bestselling Author, John L. Betcher, holds a Bachelor's Degree, cum laude, in English from St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota and a Juris Doctorate from the University of Minnesota Law School in Minneapolis. He has practiced law for more than twenty-five years in the Mississippi River community of Red Wing, Minnesota. Mr. Betcher has published an award-winning series of "Becker" suspense/thriller novels. The first five are THE 19TH ELEMENT, THE MISSING ELEMENT, THE COVERT ELEMENT, THE EXILED ELEMENT and THE CRITICAL ELEMENT. He has also authored the award-winning spiritual phenomenon, A HIGHER COURT.

Cindy McDonald Opens The Unbridled Series with Deadly.Com

Animated sequence of a race horse galloping. Photos taken by Eadweard Muybridge (died 1904), first published in 1887 at Philadelphia (Animal Locomotion). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The heat of a summer night wrapped its arms around Westwood Thoroughbred Farm, a lucrative, bustling horse farm. The farm’s vast one hundred acres was nestled in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania outside the small town of Lanzville. In the mornings, exercise riders would put the horses through their daily workouts. The Mexican stable hands chattering in Spanish would scuttle about the barn while cleaning stalls and filling water buckets. In the afternoon, the farm manager, Punch McMinn, would deliver the horses to the racetrack, where they would dash hell bent for leather toward the finish line. 

Not tonight. Not for Kate West anyway. Kate was only looking for peace and quiet tonight. The soft glimmer of candlelight and the comforting scent of sweet lilac filled the room. She took a long, gratifying sip of her Sleepytime Tea with a drizzle of honey, a tiny indulgence to help her unwind. She ran her fingers through her blonde, silky hair. Dressed in a soft cami and a pair of pajama pants, she was feeling cozy and glad to have the evening off. She often worked late into the evening as a veterinary assistant at the racetrack. Tonight was going to be a hot one. She stretched out on the sofa in her father’s study. The sweat dribbled down her neck to between her breasts. Her cami clung to her like a contestant in a wet T-shirt competition. She propped her feet on the coffee table. Her lips curled devilishly as she thought of how her father would disapprove. Twenty-five-year-old Kate was much too old for scolding, but Eric 

Giorgio

West could be somewhat overbearing. He loved the grandeur of the old Victorian-style farmhouse. He claimed that installing a modern convenience such as central air would compromise the home’s integrity. But he wasn’t home. She wiggled her toes, lifted her laptop from the couch, and logged on to a local networking website. The Wi-Fi delivered the site speedily to announce “My Town” across the screen in bold letters. The blueness from the laptop’s screen illuminated Kate’s face. She arched an eyebrow and bit her lip softly when the picture of Giorgio appeared on the screen. He’s logged on. Oh, yes! There he is a delicacy of pure eye candy. Giorgio had smooth olive skin. His long, dark hair swept across his broad shoulders. His eyes were a cool, inviting green. His jaw was square and strong. It was as if he weren’t real, as if he were one of those erotic-looking characters on the cover of a romance novel. Kate chuckled to herself. She could easily picture this half-naked Adonis, embracing a buxom beauty with her brunette hair cascading over her shimmering bare shoulders with a title like Desire at Dawn scrawled over their heads.

~~~

Deadly.com
The Unbridled Series

By Cindy McDonald

All he'd had to do was exactly what anybody else could do--a Google search for a dark haired, green-eye male pic...and he had used it to add his new profile to My Town... If only women would flock to him like they did Giorgio... He has glad that Mother didn't understand anything about the computer and what he'd done. She would be all over him, telling him he was just like his father and to keep away from women...

He hadn't even had to approach Kate to connect--she had done that herself! Of course, lots of other beautiful girls had come offering anything and everything, but he was only interested in Kate. Maybe Ava since they were both connected with the farm, but it was Kate that he wanted and it seemed that she was getting ready to agree to meet... 

That would probably be the day I'll have to kill her... I already know she can barely stand to be around me when I'm there. But as an assistant to the Farm's vet, she had no choice--she had to be near whichever horse farm had called for help... But it wasn't logical thinking when he thought of Kate--he was obsessed!

In one way or the other, Eric West and his three children were involved in the horse farm and/or racing. Kate loved working with the animals that she and the vet routinely visited, while both sons were looking to raise thoroughbreds and also race them. They were all strong-headed kids, especially the boys who had always been so competitive. Readers will enjoy the interaction within and among the family, because it adds to the drama--both the danger and interaction with the man who was freely roaming on their farm, at the tracks, and with the jockeys and staff who supported all the activities...

While it won't take long for you to identify the man, it is clear that most of those who interacted with him did not realize he was...a real...maniac...

He watched Shane play a game of pool with that track tramp, Travis Cutler, who worked for Dan Quaide. He watched and rather enjoyed the two of them beat on each like maniacs. Maniac. Now there’s an interesting word. George played with the white plastic band on his right wrist that read, George A. Smuts, Rosemount Psychiatric Institution. Her wicked chortle grew inside of his head. Oh, yes! Mother was always there.

Kate could feel the sweet comfort of quiet beginning to soothe her frazzled nerves. The past two weeks had been a drain, but all was quiet. The warmth of the water and the fragrance that swirled through the room energized her senses. The moonlight cascaded through the linen blinds. She sang an old Aretha Franklin song about feeling like a natural woman. With the sensual tune running through her mind, she imagined peeling away Giorgio’s shirt to unveil his firm, beautiful torso. He kissed her neck while she caressed the firm, tight muscles on his chest. Entranced by her lovely nirvana, her voice had shrunk to a whisper as she sang the verse where he makes her feel so alive. But the house phone interrupted her fantasy. Her eyes opened. She cocked her head to one side and listened. The phone continued ringing. She sat up. The bubbles dripped from her breasts and shoulders down into the soapy water. “Damnit,” she moaned. Just as things were getting interesting. 

She quickly grabbed a towel, pitched it around her wet body, and tiptoed down the hall toward her father’s bedroom. She snatched the phone from the receiver. “Hello.” The phone clicked. Kate returned the phone to the receiver and looked around. The lamp on the nightstand next to Eric’s bed cast the room in a subtle glow. The heat lightning lit up the darkness for an instant. The curtains billowed...

The back porch looked over a moonlit pond. The breeze formed sparkling ripples in the water. The white wicker furniture was placed so the gracious view could be savored. The porch light was off. [He] was glad the furniture was white. It made it easy to find his way to the door without tripping or making a ruckus. He fumbled in the darkness with the first key on the chain. He twisted and turned it in the keyhole, but it didn’t fit. The next key looked like a truck key, so he moved on to the third. He peered through the pressed white eyelet curtains hanging in the door’s window. The kitchen was dark and still. The lock clicked, and the door eased open. A soft sliver of light drifted in from the foyer. Breathing heavily, he shuffled through the kitchen. He rubbed his hands up and down his outer thighs before spying the knives in the block on the counter. He ran his fingers over them before remembering the gun in his pocket. Smiling, he made his way into the next room. The grandfather clock chimed its dainty little tune, announcing the ten o’clock hour. He anticipated her, so his breathing quickened. The staircase swooped upward. He began to climb it stealthily. His hand left a trail of sweat behind as it slid along the banister. He was at the top now. The sweet flowery fragrances she had been burning filled him with an ache. Her towel lay outside the slightly open bathroom door. The candlelight glittered into the softly lit hallway. He could hear her moving about the room. She was singing. Imagining what her divine naked body must look like, he closed his eyes and listened to her angelic voice. Bit by bit, he inched his way to the door. He picked up the towel and pressed it to his face. Her scent was all over it. He inhaled as if to breathe her in before stealing a look into the room. Kate’s back was to the doorway. Her pajama pants clung to her buttocks. Her bare back was beautiful...

~~~

This was my first time reading McDonald; this is also her debut novel of the Unbridled Series. She does an excellent job of intertwining the farm and racing activities, including the underbelly, within the overall story, which proved to be suspenseful and edgy. The climax will have readers holding their breaths at the location in the pool house where everybody seemed to be headed, but then didn't make their shot, or lost their gun...Was this maniac really going to win?!

Which, BTW, reminds me of a scary portion when the man is caught once and instead of being placed in prison is placed in a psychiatric hospital...you will not believe what takes place there! OMG!

Finally, I wanted to comment on the author's portrayal of the two main female characters--Ava and Kate.  They were both playing some dangerous games with online people, including Giorgio who did not really exist... That is often done! And the author did a fine job in having Kate realize that she had made some major mistakes that had placed her into the position of being stalked! Kudos for this fine ending having the character spotlight these dangers...

Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Cindy McDonald was born and raised in the Pittsburgh, Pa area. For 26 years she was a professional choreographer,she taught ballet, jazz, and tap. During that time she choregraphed many musicals and an opera for the Pittsburgh Savoyards. Most recently she has retired to write her novels. She resides with her husband on their Thoroughbred farm know as Fly By Night Stables near Pittsburgh.To learn more about her book series and to read excerpts from her upcoming books, please visit her website: www.cindymcwriter.com

Sofie Kelly Provides Wild Wonderful Weekend For Cozy Mystery Lovers!

"We are time's subjects," a voice said behind me.
I turned around to see my mother standing just
inside the door, smiling at me. She was the only
person I knew who could quote a line or two from
Shakespeare in the middle of a conversation and
not sound pretentious.
"And time bids begone," I said, grinning back at
her. I didn't give her a chance to quote anything
else from Henry IV, though. I crossed the new
feet between us and threw my arms around her."
~~~

 "I like your library and I like your staff," she said as she settled on the passenger side of the truck. Her carry-on was at her feet and her suitcase was in the bed of the truck, covered with a tarp because it was spitting rain.
"You cut your hair," I said as we drove up the hill.
"What do you think? It was the executive producer's idea.
"I like it."
"I'm supposed to look rich and ruthless," she said with a laugh. "When I e-mailed your father a photo, he said I looked like Helen Mirren,
I shot her another quick look. She actually did look a bit like the British actress. They had the same hair now and the same beautiful posture. "Maybe a little," I said.
She brushed a bit of lint off her sweater. I hope it wasn't cat hair. "He's just trying to charm me into doing a British accent. He's always thought a British accent is sexy."
I shook my head. "Way, way more information than I need to have."
She laughed and the sound filled the truck. I smiled at her. 
"I'm so glad you're here."
"Me, too, Katydid," she said.

~~~

Final Catcall

Sofie Kelly

It was the cat characters that attracted me to this series, but it was this book that allowed the author to become a favorite for me. I was happy to see Kathleen take a much more solid lead in both the mystery as well as in her personal life... I certainly enjoyed the dialogue between Kathleen, Owen, and Hercules--she certainly gives them more attention than I do talking to my own. My only defense is that I'm busy reading--and it is sometimes about Kathleen in Kelly's books! I also enjoy that Kelly begins the next book as the last one was closing, so you begin to get a feel for all that happens in the town and get to know the main characters very well, especially if they are connected to Kathleen, of course.

Another point that is intriguing is that Kelly always has a number of potential suspects, often those that live in the town, or in this case, was related to Marcus! Major issue to watch is interaction among Kathleen, Marcus and Hannah! Immediately, readers start wanting to ensure "it couldn't have been this or that person" just because... But this one was a little tougher and I was even willing to wonder about...Andrew...more on him later...

Although I can imagine that figuring out a reason and a setting for a murder in a small town is tough, I thought this particular book was much more interesting from the mystery standpoint, as opposed to the fun of having the cats involved. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy both, but this particular book, latest in the series, has become my favorite (so far, LOL)

"That's good." He jammed both hands in the
pockets of his jacket, his gaze never leaving my
face."I'm glad you're all right." I waited for him
to say he'd gotten my messages, that he was sorry,
angry, anything. But he didn't.
Beside me Andrew shifted from one foot to the
other. I cleared my throat." Marcus, this is my
friend Andrew Reid. He's here from Boston."
I turned to Andrew." Andrew, this is Detective
Marcus Gordon."
It seemed to me that Marcus stood just a little
straighter as he held out his hand. Andrew
definitely did, squaring his shoulders and taking
a step forward to shake hands.
"Welcome to Mayville Heights," Marcus said.
"Are you here for the food tasting?"
"No, I'm not," Andrew said with a cool smile
that was nothing like the charming grin he'd
used on Maggie at the cafe. He shot me a quick
sideways glance.
I'd never told Marcus about my relationship with
Andrew, but it was clear from the way his face
shifted into his unreadable police officer
expression that he'd figured out there had been
something between us. Both men were sizing
each other up and not being very subtle about
it. I felt a little like they were a couple of
German shepherds and I was a fire hydrant..."
~~~

To recap for those who have not yet read about these magical cats, Kathleen came from Boston to direct and manage the renovation of the town's library. She also left because she had been jilted--before the wedding! The fool went out with buddies, got drunk and he married a waitress he met that night...

Andrew! And now he was in Mayville Heights! Kathleen was not the least bit interested! But...

She and Marcus, the town's chief police officer, had had a fight... About the same old thing... It seemed Kathleen was always the one who found a murder victim and/or knew somebody that was involved. For Kathleen that meant she also got involved because she cared about her friends.

To Marcus she was getting too involved in "his" investigation...

Which was of course true for both of them! And Kathleen had begun to think it would always be that way. So when Andrew came, proclaimed to all her friends that he was there for two weeks to woo her back, well, she had once loved him and she could at least be friendly...

So readers will enjoy a little jealous game-playing throughout, and all I'll tell you is that neither Owen or Hercules had much to do with Andrew, who couldn't even remember their names...What?!

Mayville Heights had been asked to, at the last-minute host a theatre group that had been planned for in a nearby town. There had been a fire in in the building they were to use!

Kathleen got involved because they wanted to use the new Gazebo that had been added to the Library grounds for several outdoor short plays... Cool idea and everybody was in favor, except the Director...

So, of course, he had to go... Well, I didn't mean he had to be killed...but that's what happened! And really, once you've seen him in action with the ladies of the library, you'll understand that even I could have been A suspect! LOL

What was really bad was that Marcus' sister had come to town to play a part and she was seen driving near the location where the director was killed and also had a past history with him. Marcus was forced to give up the lead detective for the case, which led to lots of surprising conversations between he and Kathleen--she was trying to help him keep away from the case, when all he wanted to do was get involved... Sounded familiar to both of them...and taught them both a lot, I thought!

Okay, I missed having the cats as part of the mystery itself, but I did enjoy the interaction between Kathleen as she talks out the issues with them. In many respects, this part is much like Lilian Braun The Cat Who Series which has always been my favorite cat cozy mysteries... and which I still miss reading! But I'm giving Sofie Kelly notice that if she keeps her series moving forward as she has, I think she going's to be a major competitor for this well-known cat series!
Readers, what do you think?

Start with Final Catcall if you haven't read her and I'll wager you'll go out and get the rest! You've just got to see these magical cats in action! Highly recommended!


GABixlerReviews

Related Articles:
http://kingsriverlife.com/11/16/final-catcall-by-sofie-kelly/

Boo and Scouts
Author's Lookalikes for 
Owen and Hurcules

Sofie Kelly is the pseudonym of young adult writer and mixed-media artist, Darlene Ryan. Sofie/Darlene lives on the east coast with her husband and daughter. In her spare time she practices Wu style tai chi and likes to prowl around thrift stores. And she admits to having a small crush on Matt Lauer.


A Challenge to My readers...I went out looking for a pic of Fred the Funky Chicken Catnip and couldn't find any? 

Please add link below as to where I can find!

And the little purple mouse would be nice too!

After all, Owen and Hercules was spending so
much time at home with them, they didn't get
involved with the mystery...Sigh...

Red Flood by Nocomus Columbus So Good We're Already Asking For More...

Grand Falls of the Little Colorado River is courtesy http://www.tripadvisor.com

“Where are we?” Moses asked.                        

“The Badlands,” his father replied.                   

Even though he was just a child, Moses knew about The Badlands.   Everyone knew about them.   Moses’ teacher taught about The Great War, and what happened when it ended.   

After the Rebel terrorist’s treacherous victory at The Battle of Flagstaff, the U.S. government relinquished control of the southwest giving complete autonomy to the resistance forces in return for a cease-fire.   New borders were created.   Both parties agreed to designate a vast piece of land that served as a demilitarized border, meaning neither the U.S. nor the rebels could occupy the territory.   Not long after the cease-fire, that piece of deserted land got a name.   Moses had heard The Badlands was lawless, inhabited by drug smugglers and armed gangs.   Even worse, were stories about The Raiders, who attacked villages along the border in the middle of the night killing everyone, doing terrible things with their victim’s bodies.   Thinking about it made him shutter. 

~~~

Red Flood

By Nocomus Columbus

Columbus begins his latest offering with an intriguing prologue... A couple, out in the Wilderness, have just welcomed a son. But there is someone outside and the father is forced to leave the mother alone... 

So he can escape, taking their son to safety. He then leaves him with his own mother and moves on to support the Rebels--the only group now  working against the government.

I have found that in reading Columbus, you will need to delve into his words and envision what he's presenting. Perhaps you are not always successful when it moves deep into his story thoughts, but he works hard to make sure we interpret what he has to say. Nocomus has created many diverse shorts that will take you through a gamut of emotion--always emotion...

This is a first of what another reviewer said could be an apocalyptic novel--maybe. I am always intrigued by all of the different stories that can be labeled under this genre and how many people actually think about that time. Interestingly, the topic has never struck me as important, even if I enjoy watching and reading about others' thoughts. My own experience with the Y2k projections, for instance, seemed just silly, but meant a lot of work, LOL...

While the Prologue entices, the way the book ends is even more thought-provoking: 

The End of Innocence...

Prophetically perhaps, the boy is named Moses and we watch a little as he goes to school, then joins a ball team. One day, however, Moses noticed a strange man there seeming to watch him. And when he got up to bat and knocked it out of the field, the strange man came and asked who had taught him to hit like that. Fortunately, his grandmother was there that day, as she always was, and hurried to get Moses and leave...

But when next Moses came home from school, he found his grandmother, near death. She whispered his final instructions and said that his father would be there to take him with him. Moses had thought both of his parents were dead and, although his grandmother had been dark-skinned, he was still somewhat surprised when his father, too, was dark-skinned... They didn't take time to discuss anything though and were soon on their way, with another man driving. Moses was forced to hide in the back of the truck, but then, when they thought their followers had gone, he poked his head up and was seen in the side window!

They escaped but with the loss of their driver and truck, so they started walking, Alwan, Moses' father had fought against the Rebels, but that was exactly where they were headed now--hopefully so Moses would be safe. He was different in a way that even Moses didn't realize... Alwan had been shot, and although Moses surprisingly helped his take the bullet out, he was still weak and could not afford to sleep while they traveled.

During their trip, Moses had asked to learn about living like his father had--finding fresh water, learning to track...
having time to bond... Luckily they found an old cabin in the woods and were able to have a roof over their heads for the night. Soon Alwan left to tried to find food, warning Moses to keep hidden until he returned...

But the time was moving slowly and when he heard noises, it wasn't his father...

No wonder readers are requesting more! This could turn into a novella or novel, easily, if that's where Columbus is heading... I, too, am looking forward to seeing what happens!

Moses was beginning to worry.  He went through every star he knew,  and then he did it again.  His father had been gone much longer than normal.  The night was unusually cold, and the fire was starting to die.    Moses covered himself with the blanket.   “Where is he?” Moses wondered.   He looked around, but it was too dark for him  to see anything outside the light of the fire.   

So he sat, and decided to count stars again.   “Ugh,” Moses said aloud.   The boy heard a noise from behind.   

He looked over his shoulder.  The noise got louder.   It was the sound of someone walking.  “Dad?” Moses asked.   

       “Daddy’s home!” a strange voice called back.    Moses jumped up and turned around.    He tripped, nearly falling into the fire.   The footsteps he had heard didn’t belong to one man.    It was three men that he had heard walking. 

       The strangers stood next to each other  on the edge of the campfire’s light.  

                       ~~~  

I'm curious to see how much more this story will run... The author has taken some major steps to fill in on scene, characterization, dialogue, etc... It could be a move forward for this young author I've been watching from the beginning...Go Nocomus! Keep up the solid work, get some help on your proofreading, but...just keep writing!

GABixlerReviews             

Biography

I was born in the home of The King, raised in the Northern part of Clinton's state. I fought a war in Eve's garden and as of right now, I live under a large, metal arch. My profession has me working for The Man, but my passion is to write, however painful it is to read. Thank you for your time

William "Bill" Walton: A Charmed Life - Fascinating Historical Bio on WWII Journalist!

World Battlefronts: Parachute Landing in Normandy

Monday, June 19, 1944

http://content.time.com/time/magazine/a

The night before D-Day, few of the paratrooper comrades of TIME Correspondent William Walton tried to sleep. After midnight they turned out, climbed into EUR-475. They were the spear head; some of them would not live to see that day's dawn. Walton, a qualified parachutist attached to the outfit, crawled in with them, was soon over France. He cabled:
I plunged out of the plane door happy to be leaving a ship that was heading toward flak and more Germans. The jump was from such low altitude...
                                                            ~~~

William "Bill" Walton:

A Charmed Life

By Mary Hackett

Edited by Mary Claire Kendall

London was teeming with fascinating people such
as attractive and self-assured Martha Gellhorn, the
third and current wife of Ernest Hemingway, who
would also become a close friend of Bill.
~~~

A writer will always write and when William Walton went to report on many activities in Europe, he also wrote letters home to his family. He had always thought of writing his own biography, but thankfully, the family, and, in particular his sister-in-law Mary Hackett saw that his letters could be turned into one of the most interesting books sharing American history from a journalist's viewpoint...

Those who will want to travel with him into the war years will certainly have the opportunity. I think the

As he stood, he surveyed the once peaceful
and picturesque rural area of Normandy,
looking in horror at the blight that blanketed
the land: houses and barns now riddled with
holes; trees reduced to scattered fragments;
equipment smashed to pieces. Bill said the
fate of the dairy herds, one of the war's
signature images, was even worse--stinking
black and white cows, sometimes one lonely
cow, often scores, lying lifeless in fields.
It was a disheartening scene, one that he
could not have imagined...Most of Bill's
exposure to war had been viewed from an
aircraft flying high over a city, not on the
ground where up-close images of
extensive carnage and flattened structures
were forever seared in his memory.
~~~

thing that made the most impression on me regarding his desire to do all that he could to keep America informed

English: Martha Gellhorn and Ernest Hemingway with unidentified Chinese military officers, Chungking, China, 1941. Ernest Hemingway Photograph Collection, John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

was to accept an invitation to train as a paratrooper. He jumped so that he was already there by the time the ground troops showed up!

But not all was about the war... Bill became close friends with Ernest Hemingway and his wife Martha Gellhorn, shown at the left...Hemingway even saved Bill's life, but there were many times for social gatherings as well.

One personal interest caught my attention--Bill was there when the most wanted gangster, John Dillinger was killed, and rode with his body to the Cook County morgue. {Me, I'm related to the Dillingers and had a John Dillinger in my family who always got picked on--LOL} Bill..."noticed that Dillinger must, at some point, have attempted to fie or burn his hands in an effort to eliminate identifying fingerprints...This reporting coup gave Bill his first national recognition. His byline, "by William Walton," would soon begin to appear in many more publications..."

Another little tidbit I enjoyed was that when, in June 1946, Bill stood to receive an honorary degree he gave a little [payback] speech... "he noticed that most of the faculty seated before him were those who had voted to kick him out almost 20 years earlier...At the end of his speech, to express his displeasure with the school's heavy-handed discipline so many years before, he turned his backside to the assembled crowd and bowed. Later, he commented to his family, "There was a very nice shape to that!"  To me, that's why we enjoy reading about people's lives, don't we?!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
William_Walton_(painter)
The body of John F. Kennedy in repose
 in the White House on November 23, 1963.
William Walton helped research the funerary
decorations for the room and the dressing
 for the catafalque.

I became fascinated with Walton's love of the outdoors and his painting activities, which became a little more well known when Bill became friends with John F. Kennedy and his family to carry through even to helping with the arrangements for his burial. There is quite a bit covering that time and his friendship with Jackie afterward Kennedy's death. "(1949-1960)"

Life, for whom he had also worked, took his friendship with Kennedy to write an article about his paintings. in "Life" in 1961. At first when you read somebody is an artist and a friend of Ernest Hemingway, et. al., don't you just wonder where somebody gets all that talent, LOL! I don't know about you, but you must begin to admire this man, don't you think?!

There's a strange appeal to his work as well as his life during the period from 1949 to 1960 when he traveled and spent most of his time painting... Although it doesn't quite come out and say it, but his trip to his final destination in Italy brought him together with Martha Gellhorn who was by then divorced from Hemingway, (Bill was also divorced by that time) writing to his sister:

...two met in Rome and "the room I took," as he described it, had "long windows and small balconies looking out on tiled roofs where chickens, cats, people, and flowers dwell in magnificent turbulence..." Italy stood out for its color. "Nobody had ever told me the color of Rome," he wrote, which is a "rich, organish tan, faded and blotchy, but very vibrant and much more alive than the cooler gray of Paris...One night they dined at a well-known and established restaurant, the next night at a charming sidewalk cafe where strolling musicians and splashing fountains enveloped them, making for a lovely scene. They returned to their hotel by horse carriage, which sounded so romantic, though Bill simply chalked it up as the last expensive transportation... Bill could not have been happier painting the beautiful vistas in the bold colors that came to distinguish his painting...

Going back a bit, I wanted to include at least part of Bill's words written on the occasion of Jack Kennedy's inauguration.

We slowly proceeded toward Constitution Hall amid the darnedest scenes of staff cars, clustered people wrapped to the eyes and torchlight flickering on the heavy snow. A beautiful trip... silver ribbons of snow swirling through the floodlights around the Washington Monument, and a snowy glow over everything and as we rode along, the inside lights on to display Jackie, she commented it was "so cozy with the world all shut out by the storm." Jack read Jefferson's first inaugural and at the end said quietly "Better than mine."

On the other hand, of course, there are not too many Americans who cannot cite Kennedy's last line: "Ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country." That night the overture "From Sea to Shining Sea" was played for the first time in public...

Mary Hackett and editor Mary Claire Kendall have presented us with an excellent review of the life of William Hackett! There is so much more that is included such as his interest in the arts, architecture, and of course, writing... This is well worth any historian's interest because of the personal insights in not only Walton's life, but all that he was involved with! It seemed to me only appropriate that I closed my overview with his obituary...

William Walton Is Dead at 84; Headed Federal Fine Arts Panel  THOMAS J. LEUCK  

Published: December 20, 1994 New York Times William Walton, who as chairman of the Federal arts commission presided over the construction and restoration of several of the best-known monuments in Washington, died in his sleep and was found on Sunday at his loft in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. He was 84.Although the cause of death was not immediately known, Mr. Walton had suffered a heart attack in 1993, his family said. A journalist, painter and close friend of President John F. Kennedy, Mr. Walton had a diverse career that reached its zenith from 1963 to 1971, when he was chairman of the Fine Arts Commission, which oversees public monuments and new construction on Federal land in the District of Columbia.He defeated efforts to demolish the West Front of the Capitol, oversaw construction of the Washington subway and presided over the restoration of Lafayette Square and much of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Mr. Walton, the son of a newspaper publisher, was born in Jacksonville, Ill. After graduating from the University of Wisconsin, he began a career as a correspondent for The Associated Press and Time magazine. In World War II, while working for Time, he was among a handful of correspondents who parachuted into Normandy at the start of the invasion on June 6, 1944...

Highly recommended for those who enjoy reading about the lives of those that were involved in our own lives, but we just...didn't...know him at the time. Now is your opportunity to meet a man with a charmed life (I guess I would say that definitely is true based upon the action he saw in WWII!)


GABixlerReviews

About the Author

Mary Hackett, the author, is Bill’s niece by marriage Mary Hackett is the niece, by mar-riage, of William Walton. They developed a close relationship which was personal, and one of shared interests in gardening, art, archeology, Native American pottery, architec-ture, and the appreciation of books. The author has lived several years in the Orient and Mexico, and traveled widely. After he died, Bill's lifelong letters to his older sister were inherited by Mary and her husband. The letters, and many intimate conversations, are the basis for this book. She felt his life was so unusual, personally involving several presi-dents and many of the famous people of our history, that his story should be chronicled for others to know.

Spotlight on Black Men in Bright Blue from the latest book by David-Michael Harding - My Favorite Story!

Rachel Justice saw the black men in bright blue in
her dreams. Being ten years old lent itself to dreams,
but being a young white girl in 1863, especially in
South Carolina, the first state to secede from the Union,
the presence of the black men bid her keep her dreams
within herself. Yet to Rachel the dreams were much more
visit than just playful specters dancing across the
nightscape of her mind. And still, the thoughts--
real, dream, or otherwise, may have given cause for
punishment or even The Treatment and rightly so she
considered for the black men in bright blue had no place
in her world. It was best they stay in the cloudy land of
dreamy short lived visions that crowd a young girl's
head...
~~~

{Continued from yesterday}
Many who voted in the poll on the stories in David-Michael Harding latest book, chose the same two top stories that I did. I loved the lead story...      

"The Underground Railroad didn't take
tickets. Just courage."
Rachel began to have dreams of black men 
running in bright blue denim pants...
~~~

But my favorite was "Black Men in Bright Blue" which has now been made available (as has others) as a single purchase for only 99 cents. If you love historical stories regarding the Civil War, you may want to acquire just a single, even though I would recommend you check out all of the stories in the book first!

Now, all I had to do was read the first paragraph, quoted to the left, to stop and consider... I believe that nightmare vision could only have come to somebody who was psychic or directly from God... I'll let you ponder that for awhile and tell you a little more about this story. Because, can you think of any other reason why a little white girl would begin to have such strange dreams???

Black Men in Bright Blue

I don't know about you, but I think anybody who cared about people during the Civil War would have considered becoming involved with the Underground Railroad. Not because we would have been supporting the North over the South though. I think anybody who would have lived in the South, having Black men and women live on the farms, working together daily, coming to know them as friends, or at least companions with whom we had gone through a lot, would have been concerned about how some of those individuals were being treated. Indeed, even the daughter of the house was afraid of "The Treatment" that was handled by Mr. Calloway, the plantation foreman who routinely carried a neatly coiled leather whip. "The whip had a name around Providence. It was called The Treatment. Though she had never seen him use it, she had once heard it cracking above the cries of a grown man..."

While Rachel had vowed to herself that she was going to stay away from him, she also was curious and tended to "nose around" listening to various conversations to know enough that she knew there was a "fight for independence" as her father called it, but she didn't quite understand how the word independence was being used and who the independence was for...

Rachel had stopped near the house and was spying on the crying writer.
Behind Joby, coming up the hill from the shanty town...As Rachel continued
from behind the safety of a peach tree she saw that the man was Calloway and
he was pulling The Treatment from his belt.
She edged through the orchard toward the dirt road and Joby. As she came
to the edge of the orchard Rachel saw Calloway lay the whip out behind him,
uncoiling the black snake for a strike. She wanted to scream a warning, but
was frozen. The whip snapped toward Joby and cracked sharply just inches
about his head. Both children jumped. Joby spun in the dirt in his heels and
palms tried to back pedal away from the advancing task master.
~~~

And then one day she was pulled right into the reality of slavery...when she met a young boy named Nathaniel Job, who everybody called Joby. He stopped to help her when she dropped a heavy package of blue cloth she was carrying to an older woman's cabin there. 

She even, as they walked, talked to him about reading and writing and showed him how to write his name... Fortunately for Rachel, they had met Calloway on the way back...

What happened to Joby made her soon understand...what her dreams were all about...

Heart stopping! A must-read in my opinion!

"Gramps, this business about the wolves, isn't that from centuries and centuries ago? I mean, I've heard the story before, but thought the silver and the staying in after dark was like a tradition or something at St. Aldens. Not real...

~~~

For pure drama, St. Alden's was probably my second favorite story!
What's it about? Just a institution of higher education--where all the students are invited (or inherit the right to come), driven hard in their studies--and provided totally free!

What's the catch? Ahhh, it could be that hidden place where the treasury of the school is maintained...and replenished... Or not!!!

"The Jumket" about a trip to Las Vegas - a trip for Jonny that you'll never forget... He was in his 60s when he met his first hooker... This is fun and quite heartwarming in a crazy sort of way...

Harding has certainly given us choices--the whole thing or just what you want to read! "Forever Beneath the Celtic Sea" is a hard story to consider, but, somehow in your gut you know it's possible...In any war...

"We're not going to fire on an ocean liner," he said to no one present. "It must be a battleship or something. Or maybe a liner converted to a troop ship." As Guenther continued to reconcile himself to the order he hurriedly cranked open the doors of chutes one and two then retreated to his station over the firing handles. He closed his eyes and literally shook his head in an effort to clear his mind free from beneath a weight he had never felt before. The stealthy killer he worked and slept in had no need to attack a civilian passenger lines. "What reason would there be?" he heard his voice say to his ears only...

~~~

Now if you finish checking out this last story, I think you're going to admit that every single story is unique and worth your consideration. This last story is a truly insider look at what "really" happened during some of the battles that once took place here in America. The key draw of this story is the story teller Henry Brass! You'll enjoy every word...

"That's my point I suppose. People is people. The Comanche didn't trouble us. We was fair with them and them with us. There was parts of the big mountains we didn't trap or hunt because they asked us not to. Simple as that. Respectful people. You can go a long way on respect in West Texas."
"I can't disagree, Henry. You get back what you give out, don't you think? I mean, if you treat people right, like as not they'll treat you right. Love your neighbor is what the Book says."
Henry tristed his head a little and looked at me out of the side of his red sunken eyes. "You a preacher?"
"Nawww," I laughed. "They'd never have me!"
"Doubt that. It'd be there loss if it were true.

~~~

And that's what I'm saying to all of you--it will be your loss if you don't read the book or at a minimum a couple of these stories...But don't ask me to pick because I enjoyed the whole book!

GABixlerReviews

Biography

David-Michael Harding is a life-long writer whose work has appeared in national publications and has been recognized by the international writing community. He is a collegiate writing instructor and former semi-professional football player. His experiences provide readers with well researched, crushing fast-paced action. Most of his days are spent writing from the cockpit of his sailboat, Pegasus, somewhere off the Nature Coast of Florida in the Gulf of Mexico. 

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