Express mail.

With a gash in his side and an arrow lodged in his shoulder, Pony Express rider Thomas Jefferson Jackson fights off pain, fatigue, and blood loss in his quest to reach the home station and pass along the mochila. Above all, the mail must get through.

His meandering thoughts continually turn to Loriann, the girl he left behind, and he wonders if his imaginative efforts to communicate with her through marked passages on pages torn from the pocket-size Bible provided by Express company Russell, Majors, and Wadell, will reach her and convey his feelings for her.

You’ll ride with Tom through dangerous desert plains, mountains, and canyons across Utah Territory’s West Desert in The Mail Must Get Through, a heart-wrenching story of courage, commitment, and love.

The Mail Must Get Through is available in paperback and eBook. Follow the link, or watch for it on your favorite online bookseller site and on eBook sites.

 

MISSING PERSONS

There is a move afoot by businesses in our country to eliminate any and all person-to-person interaction. Somewhere between “press one for . . .” menus on touchtone landline phones, “apps” on mobile phones, and “AI” rearing its head in everything digital, it has progressively progressed (or degenerated) to the point that it just might be possible to spend entire days and weeks, perhaps a lifetime if you are young enough, without ever having to rely on another human being to get something done, at least not directly.

Where have all the people gone?

At the grocery store, you can wander the aisles then scan and sack your purchases without human intervention. Or you can do it without leaving home, using an app to shop online. Then you can arrange with a delivery service—again through an app—to leave what you bought on your porch. Rather than knock on the door, they’ll take a picture of your purchase sitting there and send the photo to you in a text message to let you know it has arrived.

Speaking of text messages, when was the last time you actually called a friend and spoke to them? Or even left a recording of your voice on a messaging system that allows them to never speak directly to another person?

What if you’re one of the rare breed who wants to talk to people on the phone? Dial up a business and you’ll more than likely have to wend your way through a lengthy session of button pressing to conduct your business. A living, breathing, human being is only available as a last resort after pressing another button and waiting and waiting and waiting for your call—which is important to them—to be answered by a person. Even then, that person is unlikely to actually converse with you. Instead, they will read canned responses from their computer screen which may or may not (usually not) answer your question or solve your problem.

Looking for help online—already a step removed from human interaction—used to result in a slow-going, tedious exchange of typed messages with someone on the other end. But those people seem to have been replaced by AI. But artificial “intelligence” offers no discernable improvement in intelligence. Often there is no direct response to your question at all, just a choice of answers only tangentially related to your query, if at all. And then they want you to answer a little quiz about how satisfied you were with their performance.

Getting your order taken at the counter in a fast-food restaurant appears to have joined the list of threatened and endangered species. The invasion of “kiosks” is making contact with a person unnecessary and, it seems, unwanted. If you prefer the drive-through window, you are encouraged to order through the “app” and avoid even speaking to a person through the speaker. At an increasing number of sit-down restaurants you can find little gadgets on the table that let you place your order without dealing with a person, and maybe play a few games while you wait for your food. Your dining experience requires only the briefest of contact with a human person as he or she flits past to put your food on the table. Then you can pay the check on the gadget, and be invited to take a survey about how satisfied you are with their customer service. Or, of course, you can stay at home and get it all done and delivered through those “app” things.

Health care has also become a pain for those who wish to engage with humans. Online “portals” require you to ask your questions, set appointments, get referrals, request prescriptions, see test results, and just about everything else, all without human contact.

And that’s not all: You can buy anything your heart desires from online retailers, from roller skates to automobiles, all without human contact. Banks are in on it. Money lenders. Car dealers. Gas stations. Movie theaters. Pharmacies. And on and on and on.

Finally, and perhaps most damning of all, even those annoying telemarketers in their call centers are giving way to recorded messages and make-believe conversations with artificial people who offer you things you don’t want or need.

The world is changing. Or maybe it has already changed.

Where have all the people gone?

 

Sad Anniversary

January 29 marks 163 years since a Shoshone winter camp was attacked by forces of the United States Army, leaving as many as 350 children, women, and men dead. Events leading up to the attack are many and complicated and years in the making. But the government’s actions cannot, in any way, be justified, excused, or explained.

It was a tragedy unprecedented at the time and unmatched since. No other of the many unpardonable actions against the native people who have populated the West for thousands of years can match the Massacre at Bear River. By any measure it was the worst we—our white American ancestors—could do. And yet it is little understood and almost entirely forgotten by history. The few accounts that do exist in history books are often incorrect and inaccurate.

For one of the few times over the past two decades, I will miss the annual commemoration at the massacre site, hosted by the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation. But my heart will be with the families and descendants of the victims, and the hundreds of supporters who will gather a few miles north of Preston, Idaho, to honor the fallen as well as the survivors.

The Massacre at Bear River has been something of an obsession with me. I have written a book of history about the massacre, as well as magazine articles and other nonfiction accounts. And I have attempted to capture the emotion and the human aspects of the event in poems, song lyrics, short stories, and a novel (available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook).

The Massacre at Bear River is a stain on our nation that is not pleasant to remember, but one that should never be forgotten.

Annual Report

At the end of the year in business, it is traditional to report on the year’s accomplishments and activities, and to look forward to the year ahead. Most annual reports are based on a fiscal year, owing to financial considerations. Since I am not very business-like and there’s not much in the way of finances to consider, we’ll go with the calendar year.

During 2025, I managed to see two novels come to life:
w The Hunting of Man Book 3: Hiding Man (January)
w Where the Long Trail Ends (September)

There was a new collection of poetry:
w Buckoffs and Broken Barriers: Rodeo Poems (July)

And a new collection of short stories, with co-author Michael Norman:
w Shiny Spurs and Gold Medallions: Award Winning Western Stories (August)

Speaking of short fiction, a story based on the start of Utah’s Black Hawk war, “The Incident Above Mentioned,” appeared in an anthology:
w Silverado Press Presents: Western Stories by Today’s Top Writers (March)

A couple of nonfiction articles were published in RANGE magazine:
w “The French Connection” (Fall 2025)
w “Tumbling Tumbleweeds” (Winter 2025/2026)

Earlier in the year I reviewed five novels for the New York Journal of Books, the last of some 30 reviews I had written for them over the past few years, before they shut down unexpectedly.

Looking ahead to 2026, a Pony Express novel, The Mail Must Get Through, should be out shortly after the first of the year. An Old West Hell on Wheels murder mystery, As Flame to Smoke, is scheduled for May release. There’s a Rawhide Robinson novel (number five) on the schedule, Rawhide Robinson Rides with Old Blue, but the publication date isn’t set as yet.

There should be some paperback and eBook editions of earlier hardcover books coming out as well. And who knows what else?

All in all, it has been another year of happy writing for me, and another one to look forward to. I hope there’s some happy reading out there for you.

Happy New Year!

Hit the Dusty Trail.

The Dusty Trails and Tall Tales podcast goes live Thursday, December 18, at 5:00 p.m. Mountain Time. Host, as always, will be the podcast creator, Matthew Pizzolato. Yours truly will be guest writer.

Among other things, the discussion will revolve around my latest novel, Where the Long Trail Ends, and Buckoffs and Broken Barriers, my recently released collection of rodeo poetry. And since Matthew is an accomplished author of Western fiction, we’ll likely talk about how we go about spinning a tale of the Old West, whether based on something from history or out of thin air.

Matthew has conducted hundreds of interviews on Dusty Trails and Tall Tales and says this about the podcast: “Whether you're a die-hard Western fan or a budding writer, you'll gain fascinating insights into the craft of creating unforgettable characters, thrilling showdowns, and the rugged landscapes of the frontier. Saddle up and join us as we explore the art of Western storytelling, one interview at a time.”

Grab a mug of your favorite hot beverage and join us. Follow the link to Matthew’s website, or find Dusty Trails and Tall Tales on Spotify or YouTube. If you can’t join us live, we’ll be archived online forever.

See you (or be seen by you) Thursday, December 18, at 5:00 p.m. Mountain Time.

Drovers

Friend and fellow poet Linda Kirkpatrick of the great state of Texas sent the above picture to me a while back. It looks, does it not, like a typical old-time photo of a band of cowboys.

But it’s not. The photo is of men from her part of Texas who were “Hog Drovers.”

Well, having had some experience with pigs in my youth (Utah State Junior Livestock Show Fitting and Showmanship Champion in the pig division, 1970) it piqued my curiosity. It makes perfect sense, but it had not occupied much of my mind, that in days gone by, before railroads and trucking came along, hogs—like cattle (and sheep, goats, ducks, geese, turkeys, horses, and mules)—had to be driven to market.

Tennessee and Kentucky were big pig-raising states, and the fattened animals would be driven through the mountains to eastern markets. In 1847 alone, 51,753 hogs passed through a single tollgate in North Carolina. As many as 100,000 hogs were driven from Kentucky to Richmond, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and other points east in any given year. Hog drives were common throughout the country.

Porkers could move along on their trotters about ten miles a day, led by a horseback drover and herded by other drovers, about one for every 100 hogs in the herd. Herd sizes ranged from a few hundred to a thousand pigs. “Wagon stands” along the way would corral, feed, and water the hogs overnight. 

There’s a better than even chance that the photo Linda sent may inspire a future novel featuring the adventures and antics of our friend Rawhide Robinson. We’ll see if that pig can fly.

My favorite book, Part 31

There is no shortage of novels about violence in trail drive cowtowns. Some are well written. Most are fairly predictable, even some that are well written. But too many of them rely on the clichés and stereotypes and nonsense we have all been fed too much in shoot-’em-up books and movies and TV shows.

Bloody Newton by Johnny D. Boggs is different. It won a Spur Award from Western Writers of America and deserves the honor.

The story revolves around an actual incident, the Tuttle’s Dance Hall Massacre of 1871. (Also known as the Newton Massacre and the Hide Park Gunfight.) The newborn town of Newton, Kansas, is attracting Texas cattle herds to the railhead there, making the place as wild and woolly as any Old West town.

The author enriches his tale with parallel stories of a family of Texas cowboys, a woman restauranteur struggling to set up shop in Newton, and a newspaper woman from the Wichita Times who was more-or-less exiled to Newton in order to get her out of the editor’s hair.

As the individual stories build, they are braided together toward a fascinating climax. The period detail is well rendered, the characters are believable and distinct, and the violence is rendered so masterfully that it can cause chills.

It’s hard to go wrong with any novel that says Johnny D. Boggs on the cover. But, for me, Bloody Newton is among the author’s finest work, right up there with Northfield, one of my all-time favorite Western novels.