Where did you leave... your Winchester?

Perhaps the questions should be more... why was it left, and by whom?

Last November a Model 1873 15-shot Winchester repeating rifle was found leaning against a tree in the Great Basin area of Nevada. It wasn't loaded. 

Archeologist Eva Jensen and her team were doing a sweep of the Snake Mountains area looking for Native American artefacts before a controlled burn when a reflected glint from the sun caught her eye and she went to investigate. Not quite the artefact she was expecting, but perhaps more astonishing. The Cody West Firearms Museum dated its manufacture to 1882.

So who leaned it against a tree and never returned for it? A miner? A hunter? A Native American?

The Model 1873 Winchester became known as 'the weapon that won the West', and there was still  enough power in its name for Hollywood to title a 1950 movie in its honour - Winchester '73 - starring James Stewart.

As might be expected of the find in Nevada, there was plenty of coverage across in the States, but more surprising has been the response in the UK. The Telegraph had a half page spread about it in its Saturday 17 January edition. It was even mentioned, alongside the re-discovered Beagle2 craft on Mars, in its Editorial.

Who said interest in the Old West was dead?

Revisionist Westerns - The Homesman

Having been engaged in other work all summer, I get to Fall and yet again it seems to be Westerns on every side, or "revisionist" Westerns, as the current term dictates.

The latest is "The Homesman" directed and starring Tommy Lee Jones, but few notices I've seen mention the brains and craft behind the story - the novelist Glendon Swarthout 1918-1992.

Like a shadow of his subject matter, the man has been a long time gone, and yet he still exerts a pull that can only be admired. Not for him the glossy and pasteurised vision of the Old West. From Swarthout's West came The Shootist, Bless The Beasts And Children, They Came To Cordura and a whole lot more. 

The Homesman takes its water from the same creek as Thomas Eidson's The Missing, even The Unforgiven, in that I'll read it, watch it, muse on it, and be grateful I don't live in the time when such decisions had to be borne almost alone.

The Revenge Western on Screen...and Paper

It seems that among movie men the Revenge Western - is this truly a sub-genre? - is flavour of the month, or at least of 2015. Coming up there's Quentin Tarantino's The Hateful Eight, Jane's Got A Gun and In The Valley of Violence. Meanwhile, By Way Of Helena sees an 1880s Texas Ranger locking horns with a fundamentalist preacher, while waaaay back in the 1820's a bear- and man-mauled fur trapper becomes The Revenant.

While By Way Of Helena was written for the screen, The Revenant comes from Michael Punke's 2003 novel, or faction, based on the experiences of Hugh Glass. A member of The Rocky Mountain Fur Company, after being mauled he was subsequently robbed and left for dead by the two men supposedly caring for him, John Fitzgerald and a young Jim Bridger.

Y'know, I can see that one being a Revenge Western, even though we know that Jim Bridger became an "old" Jim Bridger. Dead Men's Fingers might be in good company.

Navajo Code Talkers of WW2

I've just read that Chester Nez was laid to rest earlier this month. May his God and his ancestors welcome him. 

We were in Albuquerque in 2008, early to breakfast in our hotel but not early enough to be first down. A group of men, wearing distinctive red caps and gold-coloured jackets, and sporting an array of silver and turquoise jewellery, were sitting at a table talking in a mixture of English and what I suspected was Diné. Not until I was returning with my tray did I read the lettering embroidered across the backs of their jackets. The Navajo Code Talkers Association from WW2 was having a reunion.

As they readied to leave, we went across to say hello. It was a short meeting, friendly, they wanting to know where we were from, where we were going, offering suggestions of what we should see on our travels. We returned to that hotel the next year, and the next, and the next, always in the same month, meeting them again and again. We became their joke “They’re following us!” while our smiles hid the knowledge that the number round their table was dwindling.

The last time we also met them by chance outside a bookstore in Albuquerque’s Old Town. “You are following us!” Although other books have been written about the exploits of the Code Talkers, It Had To Be Done was produced by themselves from their own interviews to help fund their Association. 

Some of it makes grim reading, and not for the most obvious reasons. Chester Nez tells of being in a government boarding school about the age of ten, of being beaten for speaking his native tongue when he hardly understood a word of ‘Anglo’. Yet in 1942 that same government, in the guise of the Marine Corps, drew together 29 Navajo men, including Chester Nez, and locked them in a room. Their instruction was to create a verbal code for use in radio transmissions based on that same despised language. 

The rest is bound into the history of Guadalcanal, Iwa Jima, Guam, Peleliu and others too many to mention. Their code was never broken, and was even used in Korea and Vietnam – by Navajo, who were the only ones who could use it.

Chester Nez, of the “First 29”, 1921-2014, Telegraph obituary. 
It Had To Be Done – The Navajo Code Talkers Remember World War II

The Navajo Code Talkers Association  

A movie based on the exploits of the Navajo Code Talkers was made in 2002 entitled Windtalkers.  

With the code’s success, other Native American languages were utilized by the US forces, including that of the Commanche in the D-Day Landings.

January Disputes in the Old West

It might have been cold, but the weather never seemed to stop a man once his blood was up.

It was in mid January 1836 that Sam Houston sent Col. Jim Bowie and twenty-five men to San Antonio. What followed became history, became legend. Ten years later President Polk sent Gen. Taylor and 4,000 troops to the Texas border as war with Mexico loomed, and we know what happened after that.

They may have involved less men, but new-found mining deposits fuelled both disputes and organised crime, and in turn saw the rise of the Vigilance Committee. Virginia City, MontanaTerritory, had a lynching in 1864 of five members of The Innocents, including Jack Gallagher, a deputy sheriff. It wasn’t much better in the aptly named Hell’s Gate.

Disputes of a more personal nature were the norm, and we may never know of their extent or regularity.

In 1876, in Mobeetie (Sweetwater), Texas, Bat Masterson was dancing with a saloon girl when an army corporal from nearly Fort Elliot took offence. The woman, Mollie Brennan, died when the corporal opened fire. Bat Masterson was wounded before shooting the man dead, and walked with a limp for the rest of his life.

In 1896 Albert Jennings was travelling with his eight year old son from Lincoln, New Mexico Territory, to his home near Las Cruces, but both were murdered along the way, the bloody scene but no bodies being discovered later. Talk was that notorious outlaw Black Jack Ketchum was to blame, but many looked to Oliver Lee, noted rancher, land developer and part-time Deputy US Marshall. No one was ever charged with the Albert Jennings' murder, and those charged with his son’s murder were acquitted. It was one of a number of incidents that contributed to the region's lawless reputation and delayed its statehood until 1912.

Enjoying the Weather, Back in the Day

January is with us already. I hope you are coping with the weather, wherever you are pitched. I thought I’d start the year by looking back aways and the weather seemed a good place to start.

The first item I found was from January 2^nd 1862: waters from the Colorado and Gila rivers flooded Arizona Territory between Fort Yuma and Pilot Knob. Reflecting more of today, on January 9^th, 1875 in Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, the temperature fell to -38F. It wasn’t much better ten years later in Bismark, Dakota Territory, where it was reputedly -35F at noon.

 

We might grumble into our coffee about what’s outside our window, but we sure need to give thanks for modern clothing and houses, and think of those who made the best of what they had. I wouldn't want to change places.

Image "Prospect Park, Niagra Falls" c1893-1902

By Keystone View Company -- Publisher [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Sending Friends & Neighbors Seasonal Greetings

Whether you are surrounded by family or riding a lone trail, take a moment to gaze at the stars. Be humbled, and grateful for their presence. One of them shines on you.

May the New Year bring a peace of spirit and a determination to do good in this world.

TylerB

The Englishman Who Brought the Grand Canyon to the World

When the first US government survey team set eyes on the Grand Canyon its leader reported that the region was “altogether valueless”. When Fred Harvey saw it less than forty years later, he knew it would make him a fortune.

Fred Harvey was a man of vision. He left England in 1850, a fifteen year old seeking his fortune in an America gripped by gold-rush fever, but he got no further than pot-washing in a New York restaurant. He learned fast, though, most notably how the emerging middle class aspired to a luxury lifestyle, and he became determined to provide it for them. 

His own first restaurant fell foul of the American Civil War, but with the cessation of hostilities he joined one of the new cross-continental railroads, immediately seeing how the provision of good quality fare at restaurants and hotels enroute would benefit passengers, the railroad and, most importantly, himself. The Fred Harvey Company was born.

A fastidious man, Fred Harvey was appalled by the conduct of his male waiting staff drawn from the cow-towns of what, in the 1880s, was the height of the Wild West. He advertised in eastern newspapers for young women, 18 to 30 years old, of good character, attractive and intelligent and paid a stunning salary of $17.50 a month, all found. His specially trained ‘Harvey Girls’, attired in black with a white apron, reminiscent of the staff attendant in an English tearoom, brought a sought-after decorum to long distance travelling just as the West was opening up to a new industry – tourism.

Fred Harvey understood the merits of preserving the landscape and the way of life of its indigenous peoples, even to the extent of organising ‘Indian Detours’, a forerunner of the cultural tourism we know today. If the participants weren’t always authentic, few patrons knew the difference.

The Grand Canyon, the prize of the Southwest, beckoned. By the late 1890s it could be reached by stagecoach from the nearest railhead at Flagstaff, but that took a bone-jarring eleven hours with little in the way of comfort to greet travellers who managed to reach the south rim. When a spur line was mooted, Fred Harvey decided he’d have a hotel of splendour to meet it. Alas, he died in 1901, not living to see it open. 

El Tovar, early 1900s

The rustic El Tovar, built in the style of a European hunting lodge in stone and spruce, remains the Grand Canyon’s most prestigious hotel, its elegant entranceway a few steps from the rail terminus and a mere 20 feet from one of the most awe-inspiring views in the world. If you want a room there mid-season, you’d better consider booking it two years in advance.

The Fred Harvey Company finally took possession of all concessionaires on the rim when the Grand Canyon was granted National Park status in 1919, and the ethos of its founder has been preserved ever since. There are no garish billboards or signage, no tacky gift shops or litter. Even the pernicious automobile, just beginning its ascendancy when Fred Harvey died, has been contained by some judicious planning and the use of a free low-emissions shuttle bus service. 

There are still horses, of course, or at least sure-footed mules, waiting to take the adventurous down to the Colorado River. Even in Fred Harvey’s time Bright Angel Trail had enough of a draw for a photographer’s studio to be sited on its lip. Kolb Studio still stands guard and is now a bookshop and exhibition hall showing many of the Kolb brothers’ early photographs.

Every visitor, then or now, wants to witness a sunset over the Canyon, to try to capture on camera the changing colours of the buttes and mesas as they turn through pinks and reds to hues of mauve and purple.

If dusk is full of shared murmurs of awe and the clicking of digital cameras, a dawn is full of silent reverence as small groups gather on the overlooks for the first glimpse of the Canyon bathed in the light of a new day. No one says a word. Hardly a breath is taken as the ambient light rises to reveal skeins of pale mist woven around the ghostly shapes of rock formations millions of years old. In a diamond flash, sunlight breaks the horizon and the piercing rays slowly make their way one mile down to illuminate the hiking trails and ultimately the Colorado River.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Fred Harvey gives you… The Grand Canyon. 

Today in 1881… Fact became Legend became Myth

There are no silver stars for guessing that today marks the anniversary of what has become known as the Gunfight at the OK Corral. The fact is that such a gunfight occurred; the how and the why and the who are what turned that fact into a legend that has become mythologized in its constant retelling, mostly on the large and small screens that dominate our view of what was the ‘American West’.

 Life at the time was no walk in any park, as an almost contemporary photograph of Tombstone attests. The town came into existence around 1877 due to the productivity of its silver mines, estimated at $40m-$80m in just over the 10 years of its heyday. 

Tombstone: date disputed 1881 or 1891

"Decent folk" certainly tried. There were four churches, a school, ice-cream parlour, bowling alley and an opera house, but alongside over 100 saloons, 14 gambling halls, numerous dance halls and brothels, and situated only thirty miles from no-questions-asked Mexico, anyone attempting to uphold the law certainly had his hands full. 

Wyatt Earp

Vigil Earp was the City Marshal as well as Deputy US Marshal for the area; Wyatt Earp no more than a temporary City Deputy on whom his brother knew he could depend. Yet it is the younger Wyatt who claims the mark in history, probably due to his life extending into the era of the movies. 

The silent 'Westerns' certainly fascinated him, and he became an advisor to both William S Hart and Tom Mix, eager to hear first-hand of life during their childhoods. Standing in the shadows were John Ford and a very young Marion Morrison, aka John Wayne.

But it seems Wyatt never spoke directly of the Gunfight. It wasn't until after his death in 1929 that a biography was published in 1931 by Stuart Lake, Wyatt Earp: Frontier Marshal. It might have been fictionalised, but it gripped the imagination. A year later the Gunfight at the OK Corral eased onto the big screen as Law and Order (dir Edward Cahn) with Wyatt Earp masquerading as 'Frame Johnson'. 

The rest, as the saying goes, is legend and mythology.

Photograph reputedly of Wyatt Earp 19 months after the Gunfight.

Photographs courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Wildfire

As I watch the pictures continue to come in from the devastating wildfire in Yosemite, and consider the plight of the brave souls trying to bring it under control, I’m reminded that Nature has always had its way.

1871 was a hellova fall for fires. The best known, the Great Chicago Fire, started on October 8^th, burning for three days. Although the story of a cow kicking over a lamp in a barn turned out to be fiction, the wind the fire produced to feed itself was fact. Over 300 died and 100,000 were made homeless, yet this was nothing to what was going on elsewhere.

Wisconsin, like other states in the region, had been suffering an outbreak of wildfires due to the extended dry conditions. Near Peshtigo one took lethal hold to become a firestorm. Of the town’s 1,749 residents, more than 350 were later buried in a mass grave “primarily because so many had died that no one remained alive who could identify them”. Twelve communities were destroyed, leaving well over 1,200 people dead or missing.

Coincidence can be disconcerting. The same day the cities of Holland and Manistee in Michigan, and Port Huron, all fell to the same fate, adding another 200 deaths. Four days later Windsor, Ontario, joined the list.

Today we talk of $billion devastation. Considering our crowded communities, perhaps we should be grateful the figure is merely dollars and not death toll.

Looking at Outlaws

The derring-do - or mostly just the goddamn awfulness - of folks history has labelled Outlaws, has always been a large part of the Western writer's research. From snippets of their sorry lives come the secondary research as to the why and the how that makes up the motivation driving a wholly imagined character.

So I was pleased to come across, by accident as often these things happen, the blog of The American Cowboy and his post which lists a whole host of lesser known varmints.

And no sooner do I turn around than I find that Tom Rizzo has a post about the exploits, or lack of them, of the Jennings Gang.

Do check them out. Both well worth the read.

Review: The Devil's Work by Paul Bedford

Being an ex Black Horse Western writer, I tend to keep an occasional eye on this UK imprint (publisher Robert Hale), the last of a dying breed, and recently an old name surfaced - Paul Bedford.

One of his first novels - a true historical rather than Western genre - was passed on to me some time ago, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. A Most Dark and Bloody Land by his alternative author name Paul Ayton, is set in 1844 with a young British Army Officer, Thomas Collins, being sent out from Her Majesty's government to the fledgling Republic of Texas. He's to negotiate terms with President Samuel Houston for the British Empire's procurement of cotton. Sound far-fetched? Not a bit of it, as Paul Ayton emphasises in the book's Historical Note.

For some reason Paul eschews a digital footprint of his own, but the cover, and that of two sequels A Most Deadly Foe and A Most Damnable Campaign, can be found via the site of Western re-enactment group The Searchers.

So when I heard that he'd had a Western genre novel accepted by Robert Hale, I called in to my local library and asked if they'd consider purchasing it. The Black Horse Westerns have always, as far as I am aware, been destined for the library market, and I saw no reason why others shouldn't enjoy good writing in a genre mostly ignored. 

As can be seen, Robert Hale doesn't believe in going overboard with its covers, but don't let that detract from a good read. 

When town marshal Rance Toller is called to a gun-toting drunk in the town's worst saloon, he notices a stranger biding his time in the warmth. Experience tells Toller that the quiet man poses the bigger threat. Not so. Greed, lies and betrayal pose the biggest threat of all and, while away in the snow helping the widow of a murdered homesteader, the town of Devil's Lake decides what's in its best interest might not include Rance Toller.

It's a cracking read in the classic style of Western that the imprint maintains. Go order it at your local library and spread the experience. As ever, more information can be found on Amazon.

Riding the Rails and the Range

After last week's desperate measures, this week has proven to be somewhat of a golden gateway for UK terrestrial television. Series 1 of  Hell on Wheels is crossing our screens with a good head of steam.

I was in New Mexico when I first caught episodes of this tale of building a railway across the continent after the Civil War: revenge, racism, intimidation, mysogeny, graft... the story of everyday folk, all carrying a lot of emotional baggage. It'll be interesting to see if the multiple storylines rise above their basic descriptions.

John Ford's The Searchers certainly managed to, and still does nearly 60 years after it was made (1956), despite this week's TV guide's crass description of John Wayne's character as being in a "relentless search for his young niece". Watch the movie, mate. It didn't gather its 5 stars merely for the spectacular filming in Monument Valley. And while you're at it, read the book by Alan le May. A riveting use of colloquial speech.

The Searchers was, in fact, my first view of Monument Valley in both photograph and on screen. It made a great impression, so much so that when my young eyes laid sight on a map of the Southwest I traced not only its features but its names: Painted Desert, Mexican Hat, Vermilion Cliffs, Gila Wilderness, Grand Canyon. The surprise is that it took me so long to visit them.

Feeding the Horses

Yes, I know. It’s been a long while since I fed these horses. This is what happens when my other writing persona starts flapping like a buzzard with a broken wing and takes up all of my available time. Then life shoulders in and before I know it I find myself laid up and in need of a bit of Old West to watch.

Shoot, Cowboys and Aliens doesn’t quite hit the mark, does it, but what can I say? It was on offer. My partner on the couch took delight in combing the internet to list all the historical inaccuracies and continuity issues I’d missed. Some kin are just supportive that way. However, what did catch my eye was the scenery, hence the reason for this blogpost.

Parts of the movie were filmed around the Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, New Mexico, where the mesas can’t decide whether they want to turn into badlands or into a northern outpost of the Painted Desert. We journeyed through the area a few summers back, drinking in the colours of the country and the huge skies.

It was here that Georgia O’Keefe travelled from 1929 onwards and made her  permanent home after WW2, to concentrate on her art and in so doing raised international awareness of the beauty inherent in the New Mexico landscapes.

Unlike Western artists Charles M Russell and Frederic Remington, born in the same decade – the 1880s – Georgia O’Keefe was an artist very much in the modernist style. She lived to be nearly 100 years old and moved to Santa Fe during her latter years where there is now the Georgia O’Keefe Museum dedicated to her work.

So, y'see, good can come from somewhat suspect Old West DVDs. Have you ever watched some for the scenery?

Merry Christmas

Let the snow be high, or the wind fierce, if you have logs for the fire and food on the table welcome the coming day with an open heart and friendly smile, and be grateful for the blessings you and yours enjoy.

If not... it's never too late to make a difference.

Don't we all want one - a Western Town?

If we had the money, the time, the energy, the enterprise, wouldn't we all want to build ourselves a fully operational Western town?

Billionaire Bill Koch is doing just that on his land in Colorado, it seems partly to house his collection of Western artefacts, and partly as a playground for family and friends. The Denver Post is showing a picture.

The story is carried by a number of other online sites - do your own search - and some of the comments make interesting reading, leaning heavily towards dictating what a man, this man, any man, should do with his money. Perhaps Bill just looked to his brothers, David and Charles, also billionaires, who spend lavishly on what might be called politics.

Where's the fun in that? I'm with Bill.

Railfest at Durango

Well, isn't it always the case? Next month the Brentmores are off to New Mexico for a doozy at Clovis and then turning north to Colorado for a little sightseeing and research at Durango. The next novel opens with a train robbery and I kinda thought the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railway might like to star.

Dagnabit, if I ain't gonna be  a month too late. This very weekend, and on to 20th, True West Magazine is holding its first Railfest and guess which railway is starring? It's not the only heritage line taking part. Drop by the link and see if there's one in your area.

If you're interested in how the line moved from shipping silver ore to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or even tourists, True West has a great article on its history. Enjoy. I sure aim to when I get there.

How Mad is Dangerous?

Today I'm guest blogging across at JJ Devine's Ramblings of a Writer, musing on the kind of community health support available back in the day. This time around I'm concentrating on mental health issues, a theme I explore in my Dead Men's Fingers novel. And there you were, thinking it was a just a plain ol' drag 'em out Western... LOL!

Rodeo Dayz & Laramie's Code

Today I'm pleased to welcome Shotgun Bo Rivers - Richie White - for a fascinating insight into the lives of rodeo athletes, and how, at his Grandpa's knee, he was imbued with an abiding love of the Old West that led him into writing the Laramie fiction series.

~~~

“OK Boys, OK Boys” is the last thing a cowboy hears as he nods his head and a chute gate opens for 8 seconds of fame, fortune, if you ride, and glory, if you make it off in one piece. It is what we as cowboys call Rodeo.

Rodeo began as just a simple game among Vaqueros that arose from working practices. As horses were needed, they would compete with one another to see who could stay on the longest when saddle-breaking them. Herdsman would compete to see how many steers they could rope while they drove the cattle in, and steer wrestling came from the need to brand herds, wrestling each animal to the ground and holding it until the ranch brand was bore into its skin.  

Today, the sport of rodeo is derived from those exact activities, testing the skill and speeds of a cowboy or cowgirl athlete as they compete. Once entry fees are paid it is up to the cowboy or cowgirl to put up the best ride and score they can to be placed in the winnings. Points are awarded throughout a season, and at the end of the year the cowboy or cowgirl with the most points wins a belt buckle. In recent years jackets, saddles, and gear, have also been among the prize money.

 

Professional rodeos generally comprise of the following events: Calf Roping, Team Roping, Steer Wrestling, Saddle Bronc riding, Bareback Bronc Riding, Bull Riding and Barrel Racing. 

I am of roughstock breed - Bull Riding and later Bareback Bronc Riding was my cup of tea. I spent most of the early 2000’s chasing the dream every rodeo cowboy has, a shot at the championship, and a shot at the gold buckle. Although never becoming a champion - I semi-retired in 2007 - I still have a love for the sport and I miss it nearly every day. 

 

For me it all began in 1996, when I said to myself, just once, I am going to ride just once. That story can be read in its entirety at Soniamarsh.com/My-Gutsy- Story. That just once turned into ten years of following the rodeo circuit up and down the east coast, and traveling west for a few there, as well as riding in Hanau, Germany, while in the service. Rodeo was my way of life until the injuries began to take their toll. My hope is to return for one more year, one more chance, one more shot at the legacy of rodeo.

I recently published my second book, Rodeo Dayz, which is a collection of short stories that nine friends and I wrote together. The book isn’t what you would call perfect, and we didn’t want it to be. We wanted readers to interact with the stories as if they were sitting at a coffee shop with us rambling on nearby, telling our rodeo stories to one another, the way real cowboys do. We wanted it raw, exact to how we would tell those stories. The spills, thrills, wrecks, and rides depict what we experienced and lived through to be rodeo athletes, bringing to light some great, and very truthful stories. 

The author biographies explain what we go through to get to the next rodeo. Entry fees aren’t cheap anymore, and we have to find a way to work and earn money if we are to continue living our dream. With the help of some rodeo pioneers from the early days I was also able to add a short story of rodeo history in New York, which dates back to the early 1950’s. If you enjoy rodeo in any fashion or even want to know what the life of a rodeo cowboy is like, Rodeo Dayz is a great coffee table read you are sure to enjoy.

This week also launches a brand new ebook, Laramie’s Code, the first installment of the Laramie Taylor mini-series. Laramie’s Code tells Laramie Taylor’s story prior to my upcoming novella series Laramie’s Thunder.  It begins with Laramie just twelve years old being taught the Cowboy's Code, ethics his father raised him with, but when he begins school in the fall of 1856 he is faced with a challenge. His new friend Bartholomew is being taunted by three boys because he is the only black boy in school. Charles Younger's father, Henry Younger, joins his son and the other two boys and attack Bartholomew. Laramie, just twelve years old, courageously defends his new friend, and teaches forty-year-old Henry Younger a lesson - to have respect for others, regardless of color, or race.

BIO:

Shotgun Bo Rivers is an author, writer, bull rider, bronc rider, guitar player, poet, and country boy. And as you'd expect, he loves to hunt and fish. Despite growing up in a little town called Danby, VT, at the age of 22 he became a full time professional Bull Rider and amateur Bareback Bronc rider.

He grew up watching western films and reading western fiction with his grandfather, Ken Ford, who taught that he should live by the Code of the West and imbued in him dreams of a vast open range with only his horse, saddle and a tag-along mutt as best friend. 

To purchase Laramie’s Code or Rodeo Dayz this month visit http://shotgunborivers.com/book-tour/ for all ebook formats. Also available is a limited number of autographed copies of Rodeo Dayz.

His books can also be found on Amazon.com
ShotgunBo Rivers
Ritchie White
smashwords.com/Borivers.

Ritchie White “Bo Rivers” loves to visit with his readers & fellow western authors, so drop him a line:
Facebook via Ritchie White (Bo Rivers)
Twitter via @shotgunborivers
Website shotgunborivers.com

National Day of the Cowboy - Blogathon Day 5

The blogathon draws to a close with a piece from JR Sanders who believes in supporting children - their imaginations, their dreams, and their reading habits, through the National Day of the Cowboy.

Richie White, aka Shotgun Bo Rivers, wraps it up for the NDoC organisation and the western writers who participated.

I was privileged to be one. What more can I say?