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
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
I have traveled to all fifty states, but not every corner of
them. For instance, I’ve never been to Niagara
Falls
How about a foreign
country you hope to visit?
Steve and I loved Paris Australia or New Zealand land
of The Lord Of
The Rings
I’ve always loved Australia
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
Meanwhile, Brannon searches for his missing U.S. Marshal friend and grapples with the game of golf on behalf of a charity celebrity tournament.
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.comReaders, here are links to the book. By using it when you order, you help support this blog.
Stuart Brannon's Final Shot (Western Standard)
- HardbackStuart Brannon's Final Shot (The Stuart Brannon Novels)
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