STUART BRANNON'S FINAL SHOT - STEPHEN BLY with Janet Chester Bly, Russell Bly, Michael Bly, and Aaron Bly - Free Book

Why did you become an author?

After my husband, Stephen Bly, graduated from seminary and began to pastor his first church, he settled into his God-given task. I wondered about mine. When I asked him what he thought, he said, “That’s easy. Do stuff for me and stuff for the church.”

I wanted a more specific job description. So, I began a search into all sorts of avenues. This led to attendance at several Mt. Hermon Christian Writers Conferences in California. I entered the pub fellowship for the first time and figured out how to communicate in a way that would get an editor’s and reader’s attention. I felt I came home to what God created me to be.

If you weren’t an author, what would be your dream job?

A counselor. . .if I had plenty of training and experience and biblical insight.

If you could have lived at another time in history, what would it be and why?

I have often thought I would want to re-live my own history. . .to know what I understand now and do some things different. Otherwise, I have no inclination to want to live in another era. They all have their discomforts.

What place in the United States have you not visited that you would like to?

I have traveled to all fifty states, but not every corner of them. For instance, I’ve never been to Niagara Falls. I love waterfalls and that’s one of the grandest.

How about a foreign country you hope to visit?

Steve and I loved Paris and hoped to return together. That didn’t happen. I’d like to see Australia or New Zealand sometime. All those strange animals. The land of The Lord Of The Rings and Quigley Down Under, a couple of my fav movies.

I’ve always loved Australia, too. I’ve read at least 300 books, fiction and nonfiction, about it, and Quigley Down Under is one of my favorite movies, too. What lesson has the Lord taught you recently?

When I lost my husband last June, there seemed to be many things left undone, unsaid and unanswered. No perfect, satisfying end to his story or to our journey together. Threads left hanging still stretched beyond my sight. I’ve realized since then they we are all in the middle of our personal tales and that it may take epochs in eternity to see the full plot, to get the right point of view for specific scenes that puzzle us here. I know I must trust God about that. Most times I do. I often consider this verse: “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8,9 NKJV)

Tell us about the featured book.

Background: Steve had a contract and deadline for Stuart Brannon: The Final Shot. He left us with 7,000 words, a one-page synopsis and a long list of character names. My three sons and I determined to finish the novel for him. We had four months to do it. We took on the challenge and counted it a privilege. This family affair also proved to be a healing process for each of us. We laughed. We cried. We worked hard. We tried to do it like Dad would do it.

Stuart Brannon: The Final Shot  released this month in hardback and e-book. Paperback edition releases in August. The original six book Stuart Brannon series will also be re-released later this year in paperback.

Blurb:  It's 1905. Two orphans flee Oregon's Tillamook Head. One of them is branded a hero. Do they tell what really happened and risk a dangerous man's wrath?
Meanwhile, Brannon searches for his missing U.S. Marshal friend and grapples with the game of golf on behalf of a charity celebrity tournament.

Please give us the first page of the book.

PROLOGUE

Early Monday morning, June 5, 1905, near Seaside, Oregon

At twilight, twelve-year-old Hack Howard lined his cot with a couple lumpy pillows and covered them with the thin blanket that was his orphan farm issue. He picked up his worn leather shoes with only one gap in the right sole so he could slink quietly through the room.

None of the dozen of his male roommates stirred or stopped snoring.

He slid the door open, then closed it to a slit as his face warmed, his breath quickened. Miss Penelope Tagg left her station, slipped down the hallway in her sleek nightgown and pink, silky boudoir cap over long strands of brunette locks for her early morning coffee break. Hack sidled past the opening with his lanky frame, then stole to the front door. He unlocked it with the key he’d made out of a spoon in the blacksmith’s shop.

“Hack, you’re slow in some ways. Some call you a simpleton,” Mr. Smythe, the orphan farm director had told him on several occasions, “but you’re not dumb.”

He slinked down the steps, threw off the branches from a bicycle he had hidden in the woods, then rode hard and fast to the dock at the beach. Like he’d done many times before.

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday afternoon, June 11, 1905,

south of Portland

“I thought you was dead.” The words rumbled out of some deep, dark pit of tales told at late night campfires and smoky saloons. Thick drops of dirty sweat careened down the bearded man’s face. A ripped-in-shreds shirt sleeve exposed a long, jagged old scar on his left arm. Bloodshot brown eyes glared into the future as if forecasting bad news. Very bad news.

“A common mistake.”

A faded, red bandana brushed the man’s bulging neck. His bronzed face held to the tight expression of a man looking for an advantage. “No foolin’. Argentiferous Jones said he shot you dead over a poker hand in Bisbee. I believe you was packin’ three queens.”

“He was wrong.” Every eye in the dining car watched the trigger of Stuart Brannon’s drawn Colt .44 revolver, ready to witness a sudden blast.

“I can see that now and would like to be given a chance to atone for my erroneous assumption.”

“I’m sure you would. You stopped this train on a tall trestle in the middle of a river, cold-cocked the conductor, stole the possessions of all the passengers and whatever else of cargo you found on board, and in the mix scared the women, children, and most of the men near to death. Out West a man can hang for such offenses.”

How can readers find you on the Internet?

Website: www.BlyBooks.com   

Blog: www.BlyBooks.blogspot.com

Readers, here are links to the book. By using it when you order, you help support this blog.
Stuart Brannon's Final Shot (Western Standard) - Hardback
Stuart Brannon's Final Shot (The Stuart Brannon Novels) - Kindle


Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Feedblitz, Facebook, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link.
Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

THROW THE DEVIL OFF THE TRAIN - Stephen Bly - Free Book

So glad to have you back, Stephen. Tell us about your salvation experience.

My job as foreman for one of my uncle’s ranches provided a secure future, good pay, and we enjoyed country living. Also, I wanted to guard and protect our growing family, which now consisted of my wife, Janet, and two sons, Russell and Michael. But I was restless. Janet and I often had these conversations: “Should I go back to college? You know how I love politics. Should I train for a possible change in careers? The years seemed to loom ahead, boring and predictable. Did I dare chance a break from our cozy mold?

Then Janet’s thoughts turned to God. She longed to know if he existed. If he did, could he help her with the challenges of being a parent and wife. One day I found her at home reading a Bible. Somehow it clicked. Maybe some helps and direction could be found there. I suggested we read it together. We began at the preface to the King James red letter edition. After we dug into the Old Testament, I was amazed. Here was a record of people who walked with God, talked with God, knew him as a friend. Sometimes they obeyed him. Other times not. But he was real in their lives.

Soon after, we attended a nearby church and got involved with a small home Bible study. One evening the group’s leader asked each of us, “Do you know for a fact that you have eternal life? Who do you say that Jesus is?”

The time for intellectual contemplation was over for me. Out on my cotton picking machine several weeks later I gave my life to Christ and all that would mean. Janet did the same. After we read more in the New Testament, I found my life verse: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you.” Writing has become part of the ‘added things.’

You’re planning a writing retreat where you can only have four other authors. Who would they be and why?

Only four? Well, let’s start with Randy Alcorn, James Scott Bell, Angela Hunt, Terri Blackstock, Colleen Coble, Brandilyn Collins, Robin Lee Hatcher, Jerry B. Jenkins, Jane Kirkpatrick, Nancy Moser, Bill Myers, Stephanie Grace Whitson, Lauraine Snelling . . . whoops, that’s way more than four. Better stop. Maybe some of them can’t come. It’s like over-booking airplane seats.

 Why? Because they’re all friends we haven’t seen in a while. We’d talk shop and catch up on what’s going on in our lives…and pray for our needs. I admire their books, enjoy their company.

Do you have a speaking ministry? If so, tell us about that.

I have spoken at churches, family conferences and writers’ retreats all over the United States and parts of Canada, since the 1980s. It has been another of the ‘added things’ in ministry outreach. Last summer I spoke at a Maranatha Conference in Michigan. I suspected that might be my final travel and speak time. Since then, I’ve had to turn down a number of requests as my health has declined to the point that I’m confined mostly to my home. Rather than bemoan this condition, I’m grateful for all the opportunities the Lord gave me over the years to meet so many of his faithful people, to see what God’s doing through them, and partner with him in their spiritual growth.

What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you and how did you handle it?

Writing wise…I was contracted to produce a novel for a well-known country singing duo. Lots of work and re-writes. A lot of hoopla and announcements were made. Then, just days before the huge release, with all the publicity in place, the singers backed out of the deal. This caused major consternation and complications for everyone along the line…agent, publisher, publicist, editor, me. A big disappointment for my family, friends, and fans too. How I handled it? Acceptance of what I could not change. In time, the novel (with another re-write) got published under my name alone, with a different title. It’s helped to remember that any deals go under the “if the Lord wills” or “success is never certain, but failure is never final” categories.

People are always telling me that they’d like to write a book someday. I’m sure they do to you, too. What would you tell someone who came up to you and said that?

Anybody can write a book. A writer writes. Simple as that. All he or she has to do is commit to drafting a page or two every day or at least once a week. Sooner a later you’ll reach that goal. Now, getting it published, that’s a whole different run around the corral. First step: go to a writer’s conference. That’s absolutely necessary to get guidance for your next step.

Tell us about the featured book.

Throw The Devil Off The Train is a western romance, released in hardback.

Book blurb: It’s 1880. Catherine Draper has got to escape from Virginia…and she’s desperate that no one knows her real last name. She’s on her way to Paradise Springs to join her fiancé Philip for a fresh start. She’ll do almost anything to find the means to get there.

Race Hillyard’s bent on revenge for his brother’s death…and seeks rest and sleep for his exhaustion. He collides with Catherine at the train station while she’s in a compromising situation. They despise each other on sight. But it’s a long, cramped, chaotic ride from Omaha to Sacramento. . .and something evil’s on board. Will they make a truce long enough to throw the devil off the train?

Sounds interesting. Please give us the first page of the book.

CHAPTER ONE

First Page

Throw The Devil Off The Train

Copyright©2011

 “Is he dead?” The high-pitched voice whined.

“If he isn’t,” came a low rumble, “I could fix that.”

“I ain’t killin’ no man over a saddle.”

“And a gun. He’s got one of them new Colt revolvers.”

“I still ain’t killing no man over a saddle and a gun.”

“I bet he has a bag of gold on him.” The lower voice had the power of a salesman on a slow day. “He’s as dirty as a prospector.”

“He ain’t as dirty as us.”

“Suppose he does have gold. Would it be alright to kill him then?”

The high-pitched bleat continued. “How much gold you reckon he has?”

“At least a couple twenty-dollar gold coins.”

“Maybe you’re right. For forty dollars, why cain’t I just hit him over the head with this fence post?”

“If you don’t knock him clean out, I’ll have to shoot him.”

“You got a gun?”

“I’ll use his.”

“Okay, but you do the shootin’. I ain’t shot nobody since the war.”

How can readers find you on the Internet?

Through your favorite online bookstore, including http://Amazon.com and at our website http://BlyBooks.com and blog http://BlyBooks.blogspot.com

Thank you, Stephen, for dropping by today.

Readers, leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 6 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

If you’re reading this on Feedblitz, Facebook, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment if you want to be included in the drawing. Here’s a link.

Http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com

COWBOY FOR A RAINY AFTERNOON - Stephen Bly - Free Book

I love featuring Stephen on my blog. This time, instead of an interview, he's written an article about his newest book release.

Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon/Novel As Memoir
By Stephen Bly
Copyright©2010

"The Matador Hotel died on July 5th, 1965, but they didn’t bother burying it until last fall."
Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Stephen Bly

The plot for Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon developed like homemade stew in a crockpot. A slow simmer. Then, the image of the 1950s kitchen filled with sweet aromas and sights and sounds. Hours later all the parts seemed ready.

The story grew out of fond memories from my childhood. What makes it real personal is that I was 10-years-old in 1954, just like the narrator. And I did hear numerous accounts about the “old days.” At that time, Johnny Appleseed was a legendary hero. I learned about him at the knee of my Indiana grandma. She figured anyone who dedicated himself to planting apple trees must be a good guy.

I often get asked where I grew up. Readers of my westerns suppose I was born and raised in some rough and tumble part of the west amid gunfights and wild adventures. Well, they’re somewhat right. Home for me was a ranch north of Visalia, California, in the great San Joaquin Valley.

“That doesn’t sound like the wild west,” they say.

They’re wrong. From Joaquin Murietta to the Dalton Brothers, Visalia Saddles to the Miller and Lux Ranch. . .that valley’s filled with western history. One of my favorite tales involved the gunfight and capture of Sontag and Evans at Stone Corral, a few miles down the road from our home.

"Cribbage and cowboys. . .I figured I fit right in."
Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Stephen Bly

It seems quite natural for me to write about a grandpa and the game of cribbage. My grandpa taught me to play when I was 4-years-old. I played him once or twice a week until he died when I turned 15. In the book Pop’s name is Theodore and his wife is Katie, same as my grandparents.

Talk slow and think deep. It’s part of the Code of the West. Some scoff at the notion of an unwritten set of rules that honest men lived by. Politically correct history books deny the Code’s existence. Those authors and professors didn’t grow up in the West. I remember in the mid-1980s standing at the graveside of my uncle. At the time, his place encompassed around 14,000 acres. As I looked down at the coffin of my Uncle Buster, an old-timer slid up beside me. “He was a good man, son. He lived by the Code.”

"There’s a quiet buzz from antique ceiling fans, like six thousand crickets, all out of tune. You don’t even notice, until there’s silence."
Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Stephen Bly

Woolworth’s department stores provided lots of pleasure for kids like me. Like a Dollar Store, they included a soda fountain lunch counter, better merchandise, and a friendly clerk behind every counter. By 2001 the company focused on sporting goods and changed its name to Foot Locker Inc. A classic example of a company that adapted to the market needs.

In today’s consumer shopping mall world, it’s hard for some to envision the incredible thrill of merchandise-packed Five & Dimes. I couldn’t believe so many products existed. I’m not sure kids today can experience anything near that excitement. A $.49 badge? That’s what Little Brother, the 10-year-old narrator, gets. A little spendy for 1954. I remember getting a 25-cent a week allowance, provided I did all my chores, in a time when $1.00 per hour provided a decent wage.

My bedroom teemed with White Owl cigar boxes, my granddad’s favorite cigar. He didn’t smoke them much; mainly he chewed them. And because I lived across the road from him, I got many of his boxes. Lots of childhood treasures can be stored in a cigar box.

"Folks today think that 1954 existed in some other galaxy, on some other planet. Maybe they’re right. It’s hard to believe that world and this one are made of the same stuff."
Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Stephen Bly

I can’t tell you about television in 1954. We didn’t have one yet. Didn’t matter. Didn’t need one. When I came home from school, I did chores or played outside until dark and Mom made me come indoors. Now, that does sound like a century ago.

I did not know cowboys named Quirt, Bronc, Thad, Shorty, Coosie or Pop. But I knew men much like them. In fact, most folks called my Grandpa Wilson “Pop.” I once met an old-timer in Magdalena, New Mexico, who had been a sheriff in the 1930s. He still packed a pistol and watched the door, just in case someone he sent to prison got out and scouted him for revenge. I based my character, Quirt Payton, on him.

All the aged cowboys I ever met wore long-sleeved shirts, usually some faded shade of white, with the collar buttoned. This kept the dirt out when he rode down the trail or behind a herd of slow moving cows. Also, an old beat-up Stetson and yellowed cigarettes stained their fingers.

I don’t suppose the current generation has ever ridden in the open trunk of a car, nor let the air down in the tires to drive down a railroad track (and they call skateboarding an extreme sport). At one point, the six cowboys in the novel, plus Miss Diane Anderson, and the boy narrator, pile into a ’49 Plymouth, without seatbelts. I could have been the poster child for the need of such safety devices. I fell out of my parents’ car, going about 55 miles per hour, in 1949. I spent 10 days in the hospital nursing a major concussion.

At least one of the stories happened to me. In 1994, in Telluride, I was told by the hotel clerk I couldn’t get a room. He intimated I wasn’t their kind. My gruffy appearance after a week’s research in the wilds didn’t impress them. So, I drove all the way to Cortez for a room, arriving about midnight. To say I was ticked is an understatement.

It’s like I’m right there in the room with these old-timers. Some of these scenes I do recall first-hand. I remember going to see a friend of my grandfather’s at a 4-story hotel in central California in the mid-1950s. His room was carpeted with out-dated newspapers that he hadn’t got around to reading yet. Such images last forever.

My favorite things to do when the weather threatens and I can’t play golf: oil the saddles, clean the Winchesters, or write a novel about the Old West.

In Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon I discover that maybe I wasn’t born 100 years too late.

Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon (hardback, Center Point) will be released: June 2010. Available through Cowboy for a Rainy Afternoon (Center Point Premier Western (Large Print))  or http://www.blybooks.com/

Thank you, Stephen, for the interesting peek into your new book.

Readers, Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)


Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws.


The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 6 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.


If you’re reading this on Feedblitz, Facebook, or Amazon, please come to the blog to leave your comment. Here’s a link.

http://lenanelsondooley.blogspot.com/