In Comanche Dawn Mike Blakely does for the Comanche nation what Ruth Bebe Hills did for the Sioux in Hanta Yo. This landmark novel is the first time the story has been told from the point of view of the Comanches themselves. We witness the rise of one of the most powerful mounted nations in histo...
Some came on horseback with bedrolls to sleep on. Others rode the narrow-gauge tracks down from Denver or up from Pueblo. Some walked across plains or mountains, some brought wagons, some brought tents. Ab organized a committee among the early arrivals to designate chosen areas as campgrounds, sp...
The cracking voice of some adolescent kid blared from the speaker: “Welcome to Jack in the Box. May I take your order?” “Cheeseburger and a Coke.” “Would you like fries with that?” Hooley figured he’d joke with the kid a little. “You got calf fries?” There was a pause. “Sir?” “Mountain Oysters!” ...
His Remington rifle lay across his thighs, his right thumb on the hammer, left palm cupped around the forestock. Dawn was making the strange terrain known to him. He did not expect game. This was lunacy. He should be in New Mexico by now, surveying his new domain, instead of lounging indolently i...
It was midmorning and getting hot. He stopped in the shade of a pine and mopped his neck with a handkerchief as a few hopeful tourist pearl-hunters walked past. He thought Chicago had been hot when he left, but this place was suffocating. He suddenly understood more clearly the lure of a hunt tha...
Upon this doeskin I placed a bundle of cranesbill geraniums that Burnt Belly had uprooted and washed several moons before. The aroma of smoke filled the lodge, for the old healer had just lifted a red-hot stone from the fire with a chokecherry fork and placed a few dried fir needles upon it. As m...