A Spanish-speaking mamacita and her crusty, Irish-decent old codger husband-prone to daydreaming about his glory days as his main method of escape from her sharp tongue-are travelling to Texas with their beautiful, lovely daughter Diane when the wagon breaks down in a sudden Kansas storm. Who should come riding up over the hill with his best friend Dusty (his horse) to rescue them, but a handsome young stranger, a rodeo-ridin', guitar-playin' singin' cowboy. After the rescue, of course there's got to be some resistance to love, some ghosts of the past to deal with, a bar brawl or two-some...

During the night a saddleback weaner pig went looking for a midnight snack from his newly separated mother. It found Peggy Sam instead, part of a pile of quilts she was camping in, out on the back porch of the farm up the hill. It forgot it was hungry, and snuggled in for a snooze. Peggy Samantha, the only daughter of doting parents John and Frieda Johanssen, had been asking for a puppy. And as far as she was concerned, her prayers had been answered. Not coincidentally, George Lowe, a poor neighbor down at the bottom of the hill, discovered a pig missing that morning. He desperately needs the...

In 1928, with the Great Depression just ahead and horse-drawn buggies and Model Ts sharing the road, a baby boy was about to begin his struggle on the rough road of life. This is a time capsule of his life in the rural Midwest. Sprinkled with history and local color, it is a story uniquely defined by the automobiles that captured one man's attention-as he drove them and they drove him-through every chapter of his life. He was a little boy who loved anything with wheels, who would grow up to become a state highway mechanic. Every milestone of his journey was centered around some sort of...

A sudden noise at his side brought Corbett out of his reminiscence of the past. A butt in faded jeans was right in his face as he came straight up in his seat. A voice, loud and angry, cracked the silence of the passenger car. "I'm stoppin' this train and you're gettin' off " Apparently there had been some form of conversation going on before Corbett was rousted. Across the aisle, the girl whimpered in a frightened voice, "No-I won't stay here. I'm going back home " Corbett heard the ripping of material. The next instant, he was out of his seat. Grabbing the man, Corbett spun him about to...

...she found herself jerked from her saddle, falling through space. She landed with a breath-crushing thud across Cash's knee. Cash applied the wallops with a heavy hand while Lash kicked and screamed, trying to free herself of this unladylike position. "This one is for yesterday...and the welt on my butt. This one is for the cat claws you dug into me awhile ago. And..." with an extra-hard slap on her upturned bottom, he added, "this one is for pulling your gun on me." Then he released her and let her tumble in an ungraceful heap onto the dust of the ground. "That's for just now " Getting...

The bay lost her footing and come down on both knees, nearly ousting Leith forward over her head. She came back up on all fours, let out a horrendous squeal and started bucking all over again. Leith took a continuously torturous ride. His body flipped back and forth like a rag doll as the mare took another turn buck-jumping around the corral. His back felt like every vertebra in his backbone had come disassembled. His arms felt like they's been yanked from his body, and his head pounded like a stampede of buffalo were traveling through. Leith felt his senses slipping away. As if the energy...

With a heaven-bound plunge, the cinch belt broke and Chad fell in a heap to the ground, barely missing the flying back hooves of the black. He fell hard, knocking the wind from him, and lay motionless in a state of semi-consciousness, unaware of the danger that lay ahead. Leith came down off the fence, running as fast as he could to the aid of his friend, for he had seen the intentions of the enraged horse. Rid of both rider and saddle, the stallion had made a round of the corral, still hunching his back and squealing his anger as he turned and headed straight for the fallen cowboy. Reaching...

There once was a possum who came to our house in a bucket, wet and injured. He scared us at first-he was a wild animal, after all-but by the time he was grown up, he had the run of our house. This is a children's book in rhyme, illustrated with drawings of the real live possum named Tank who especially liked spending the day snuggled in the pillows of our bed.

His jaw muscle proving the steel that lay within ready for action, Rivers asked, "Cowboy, did you happen to ask Montana if it was all right to ride him? He gets a mite ornery when someone tries to ride him but me.'' A slight grin tugged at his lips. "It's true. I haven't see him kill anyone yet." Rivers shook his head slightly as if dreading the sight it would be. "Cowboy, I'd sure hate to see you be the first one." Rivers' hand hovered inches from his forty-five as if he expected the man to make trouble. "I ain't the bossy type. I'm just saying-I wouldn't take a chance on riding Montana if I...

Beth looked at Rivers and scolded, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting in a fight and getting your pretty self all messed up. I declare, you need a keeper to look out for you " Without taking a deep breath, she hurried on. "Your shirt is ruined-and it's my favorite one too. Shame on you. Is this any way to celebrate my birthday?"' Rivers rubbed his chin, which was smarting a-plenty. "You know, Beth, I really didn't start this ruckus. It's really all your fault, you know." "My fault " she fired back. "My fault And just how do you figure that?" Rivers was having trouble concealing...