Aim Low, Shoot High

By Stephen Bly

Hap Bowman and Laramie Majors search for Hap's long lost love, Juanita, and fund the journey with odd jobs like rounding up wild horses near the Texas Mexican border. This time they cowboy with GPS and night vision goggles to avoid land mines.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bly Books
• Release date: Dec 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301957224

Stephen Bly

Stephen Bly (1944-2011) authored and co-authored with his wife, Janet Chester Bly, more than 100 books, both historical and contemporary fiction and nonfiction. He won the Christy Award in the category western novel for The Long Trail Home, from The Fortunes of the Black Hills Series. Other novels were Christy Award finalists: The Outlaw's Twin Sister, Picture Rock, and Last of the Texas Camp. His last novel, Stuart Brannon's Final Shot, finished with the help of his widow, Janet Chester Bly, and three sons--Russell, Michael, and Aaron--was a SELAH Award finalist. She just completed her first solo adult Indie novel, Wind in the Wires, Book 1, Trails of Reba Cahill.

Book preview

CATCHER-OF-THE-SUN RUNS HIGH

a short story

by STEPHEN BLY

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Catcher-of-the-Sun Runs High

Copyright 2012 by Janet Chester Bly

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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CATCHER-OF-THE-SUN RUNS HIGH

In the seasons before the earth lay pocked by the urgency of men with picks and gold pans, when the great buffalo still swarmed the tall grass plains, I visited my father for the very first time and suckled in peace at my mother’s breasts. Her beauty still burns legend in the hearts and minds of the old warriors.

For my parents’ sake and all those in our tribe, for fear that the season will come when no one living can remember our history, I have taken it as my solemn duty to inscribe this truthful account.

In the spring after the babies died we left our high camp for the last time. The elders determined that facing the The-People-Who-Roar-In-Battle would be more desirable than losing additional little warriors to the violence of high camp winters. The mothers and sisters ground out that judgment when they refused to ever climb the peaks again.

Our enemies did not steal or slaughter or count coup while we perched in solitude at high camp, but fourteen babies, including my brother, was too brutal a tragedy for one band to withstand. Some mothers mourned for several seasons.

And a few mourn still.

But the people, like the earth itself, renew their strength when the grass turns green and the buffalo return to the valley. With eyes red