Karen Bernard is the sassy redhead of Sassy Redhead Reviews fame. I thank her for taking the time to read and  review my novel A Light in the Desert.

“I give this story a 4.5-star review and recommend it to readers who enjoy a story of fact and fiction mixed to create a story that pulls you in and keeps you turning pages for answers.”  Karen Bernard  Sassy Redhead Reviews

Review: A Light In The Desert by Anne Montgomery

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

Recently, I was chatting with my friend Kevin Mccabe, who, like me, is a former TV sportscaster.

“I hope I wasn’t mean to you,” he said, looking a bit sheepish.

“Not at all,” I assured him.

“Back then we would say, ‘There are no broads in broadcasting.’”

I explained he was never anything but kind, and yet I was reminded there were others who were not. Some of whom went out of their way to ostracize me in the sportscasting world in which I plied my trade in the 1980s and 90s.

There were times people made me feel unwelcome when I worked as a sportscaster at ESPN in the 1990s.

There was the guy at ESPN who – back before all things were available on the Internet – was the human computer who could answer any sports-related question put to him. “Hey, Howie,” someone in the newsroom would call out. “When was the last time the Steelers were beaten at home in the snow by more than 17 points?”

I’m not joking here. Yes, he was a treasure, but I would discover he didn’t feel women belonged on the hallowed ground that was the SportsCenter set. I couldn’t have been more surprised when I was summoned to the news director’s office one afternoon and berated for going on the air with faulty information.

“But I asked Howie,” I sputtered. “He gave me the facts.”

As if on cue, Howie appeared in the doorway. “No, I didn’t.”

And, so, the light bulb flashed. I was on my own.

Another time, I was covering the NBA playoffs. The Suns were facing the Golden State Warriors on the road. We local Phoenix sports reporters traveled on the team charter, stayed in the same hotel, and went out for dinner and drinks after our packages and live shots were done.

One evening, as we all were saying goodnight, I asked one of my peers what time the press conference was the next morning. He looked at me and my videographer, smiled and said, “Ten thirty.”

The next day, I arrived finding an empty practice room. Not a player in sight. Then, I saw him sitting in a first-row seat, hands clasped behind his head, legs spread out casually before him.

“Are we a little late,” he purred.

The NBA’s Manute Bol was one of the good guys.

My videographer, a big guy, stepped toward him menacingly. We were both on deadline, scheduled to produce a package on Manute Bol for the 5 o’clock news.

The other reporter stood, smiled, and smugly walked away.

“We’re screwed.” I said. We both uttered myriad profanities.

Then a woman appeared. She worked in the Warriors media department. I explained what happened.

“The players are done until pre-game tonight. This is their personal time.” She shook her head and looked as if she felt sorry for me. “I can ask Manute. I can’t promise anything. But I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“You’re very kind,” I said, not feeling the least bit optimistic.

Bol would play ten years in the NBA, but basketball did not define him.

At almost 7’7″ tall, Bol and Romania’s Gheorghe Mureșan together hold the title as the tallest men to ever play in the NBA. Admittedly, I was unprepared when, about forty-five minutes later, Bol appeared. I’d been around a lot of big men, but Bol was overwhelming. Then, he smiled, instantly putting me at ease.

I introduced myself, held up my microphone – which with my arm stretched out barely reached his chin – and heard the camera click on. As Bol answered my questions in a lilting accent, I noticed the incised scars on his forehead, the result of a manhood ritual that also included the gouging out of six teeth.

Bol grew up in Sudan, where, as a boy, he reportedly killed a lion with a spear to protect the family cattle. He would play in the NBA for ten years, where he would get a reputation for having a temper. Bol, who’d suffered taunts about his height his entire life, was not much over 200 pounds when his professional career began. His slim build and awkward style led other players to think they could push him around. Still, Bol would block 2086 shots during his career.

Bol removed a white towel that was draped around his neck and dabbed at his forehead. The camera clicked off. I thanked him. He smiled broadly and lumbered away.

But basketball didn’t define Bol. He would go on to become a human rights activist in his war-ravaged home country. It’s estimated he made about $3.5 million dollars while playing in the NBA. He gave just about all of it away to help the people suffering in Sudan. Bol would die from an acute kidney infection and a rare skin disease in 2010.

NBA great Charles Barkley, a long-time friend of Bol’s, summed him up succinctly in a Washington Post article.  “I’ll tell you this—if everyone in the world was a Manute Bol, it’s a world I’d want to live in.”

When I’m asked about the way I was treated when I was a sportscaster, I’ll admit there were some bad guys. But it’s the good guys I remember most.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

About a year ago, I tried out for a play. I hadn’t been on stage – except for a bit part in a production of Footloose at the high school where I teach – in over forty years.

I wrote about the terror of the auditions and the weirdness of having to acquire tap shoes and actually wear them. I recall the moments of apprehension back stage waiting for my cue, forgetting lines and dance steps, learning to smoke fake cigarettes that only emitted chalk dust if I breathed out – not so easy, I learned – trying to sing after  accidentally swallowing an ice cube, and the location of the dead spot on stage where our mics would mysteriously cause ear-shattering feedback.

It was terrifying. And yet … I plan to audition again.

Why, you ask? That’s a good question. And the answer might surprise you.

I’d be the old lady in the green dress playing Joanne in the Starlight Community Theater staging of Company which ran last summer. https://www.starlightcommunitytheater.com/

Starlight Community Theater in Phoenix, which produced Company last year, the musical in which I played Joanne – an aging New Yorker who smoked and drank and was generally disagreeable – is now staging Mamma Mia.

I had never seen the show, but the idea that Meryl Streep stared in the film was appealing. Still, six months would pass before I considered that I might give it another shot.

My epiphany happened in February, a few months before auditions were scheduled, and I blame the folks in media.

Here’s the thing. I’m a news junkie. I watch the TV news when I eat my breakfast. I listen to NPR and talk radio on the way to work. I read the newspaper at lunch time. Then I listened to NPR and talk radio on the way home.

While I don’t remember exactly which news story pushed me over the edge, one day I just couldn’t take it anymore. Something made me punch the button on the radio, leaving me with silence in the car and a bruised finger. The news was just too damn depressing. As a former journalist the confession rankles, but there you have it.

My drive to work is only about 20 minutes, still the day I swore off the in-the-car news – Hey! I wasn’t going to quit the whole thing! – I realized I needed another option.

Regular music radio was out, since Netflix, Amazon Prime, and HBONOW have destroyed my ability to digest commercials. And I couldn’t bring myself to pony up the cash for Sirius radio, since all those video-streaming services are already sucking up my salary.

So, what did I do? I went old school. Which brings me back to Mamma Mia. I got the CD. For the past two months, I’ve been driving to and from work, belting out “Money, Money, Money” and “Does Your Mother Know” and, of course, “Mamma Mia,” singing along with Streep and the rest of her silly gang. And I don’t care if people stare, because it’s so much more fun than listening to the news.

Then one evening, I got a sign. On a pizza run, my youngest son and my sweetie pie – an old-time, head-bangin’ rocker – joined in on “Dancing Queen”.  Who knew the big guy could sing every word?

So, I will try out next week. I’ll let you know how it goes.

In any case … I do feel better.

Maybe I’ll give up reading the newspaper too.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

My thanks to Susan Hampson at Books From Dusk Till Dawn for reviewing my novel A Light in the Desert.

“All of the main characters in the story have major issues with their lives and find it hard to be accepted into society … One of them wanted to be forgotten for what he had done, one wanted to be remembered for what he would do and the other just wanted acceptance for who she was.”                       Susan Hampson  Books From Dusk Till Dawn

https://booksfromdusktilldawn.blog/2019/04/16/a-light-in-the-desert-by-anne-montgomery-amontgomery8-bookreview-alightinthedesert/

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

It’s estimated that nearly 500 animal species have become extinct since the beginning of the 20th century. Among them the Passenger Pigeon, Japanese Sea Lion, Western Black Rhinoceros, Golden Toad, Caribbean Monk Seal, and Mexican Grizzly Bear, now gone forever.

And yet, for most of us, the absence of these creatures makes no difference in our daily lives. Perhaps that’s why some people roll their eyes when they hear about saving the tiny Snail Darter or the Polar Bear or the Gray Wolf.

But what if a creature existed that could change lives with its passing? And I mean change in a big way.

Meet the cassowary.

I first became aware of the giant, Australian bird that vaguely resembles an ostrich, but which sports a fabulously-colored keratin casque, while walking in the Daintree Rainforest – a UNESCO site like the Great Barrier Reef over which it hovers – that has one of the most complex ecosystems on Earth, hosting species whose ancestors date back 110 million years.

“The cassowary is extremely important,” our guide explained. “Without the bird, the forest would not exist.”

Daintree is primordial. Giant strangler figs crawl across the forest floor. Dappled sunlight sneaks though a thick green canopy. Massive ferns sprout from leaf-littered soil. The outside world is muted and the sight of a dinosaur might not seem strange.

I learned the cassowary is a one-bird master gardener, a creature that combs the forest floor eating fallen fruits, even gobbling up plants that are toxic to other creatures. The bird consumes up to 150 different types of fruits. The existence of 70 to 100 plant species depends on the cassowary pooping out their seeds in a pile of protective, compost-like dung, the smell of which repels seed predators. The cassowary is a “keystone” species, which means a species on which others in an ecosystem largely depend, one that, if removed, would cause the ecosystem to change drastically.

So, no cassowary, no rainforest. But there’s more. Below Daintree are mangroves, a mucky area rich in bio-matter that filters down from the forest. All types of young creatures  – crabs, jellyfish, snappers, jacks, red drums, sea trout, tarpon, sea bass, and even juvenile sharks – thrive in the protection of the fertile water of the mangroves.

Off shore, the Great Barrier Reef follows  Australia’s eastern coast. There, too, the nutrients from the forest help feed the tiny creatures that build the reefs. This fertilizer promotes the growth of phytoplankton which nourishes the zooplankton on which the coral polyps dine. Without this sustenance the coral dies, losing the ability to protect the shoreline from waves, storms, and flooding, which leads to loss of human life and property.

Also consider that roughly 25% of the world’s fish species spend part of their lives on the reefs. If the Great Barrier Reef dies – note that half of the more than 1,400-mile structure has already perished – vast fisheries could collapse leading to starvation that could ultimately affect billions of people.

Which brings me back to the cassowary. It’s estimated that only 12,000 to 15,000 of the birds remain in the wild. Loss of habitat is decreasing their numbers, as are attacks by dogs.  Another problem is humans driving too fast.

Why should we care?

I think the cassowary is but one example of the interconnectedness of life. Perhaps that’s something we should think about.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

For those of you who missed the program, here’s a podcast of yesterday’s Arizona Preps Live radio show. My thanks to Kevin Mccabe for inviting me to join him.

http://arizonasports.com/category/podcast_player/…

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

The chances of a child being abducted by a stranger are not much higher than you running into Bigfoot.

“You have to be here on time,” I say to one of my students for the thousandth time. “It’s important.”

She bobs her head. “I know, but my mom was late.”

“Why don’t you take the bus?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“You’re fifteen. Certainly, old enough to figure out how to get yourself to school on time.”

But I know better than to pursue the conversation. I understand the problem. Stranger Danger!

The term, which was popularized in the 1960s, backfired big time. Not only did it make parents believe the chances of their child being spirited away by a stranger were astronomical, it gave children the unfounded belief that all the people they knew were safe.

Simple fact checking proves that the chances of a stranger disappearing with a child are almost ridiculously rare.

According to David Finkelhor, the director of the Crimes Against Children Research Center at the University of New Hampshire, “Children taken by strangers or slight acquaintances represent one hundredth of one percent of all missing children.” In other words: This is not your primary concern. This might not even be your secondary or tertiary concern. On your totem pole of concerns, this is buried hundreds of feet below the earth.”

As a teacher of almost two decades, I often find myself interacting with children I meet outside the classroom. That parents believe I might have nefarious intentions breaks my heart.

A perfect example happened one day when I was attending a rugby game. A friend was playing, so I leashed my sweet new puppy and went to the game. For those unfamiliar with rugby, let me say here there is no experience quite like it in sports. The players knock the snot out of each other, then do a lot of group hugging and head to the nearest bar, where they share a meal and some bubbly grown-up beverages and then settle in for a sing-along.  I mention this because rugby is a family-friendly affair.

I trailed my six-month old, black and white puppy through a maze of colorful blankets spread beside the pitch. Fans cheered from folding chairs as they nibbled on chips and fried chicken, while sipping cool drinks.

Suddenly, a little girl appeared. She was maybe three. Crouching on stubby legs, she cooed at my pup, then giggled in delight. For reasons I can’t quite recall, I handed the child the leash and she walked my dog about a dozen feet.

Out of nowhere, a woman emerged from the crowd and yanked the child by the arm.

“Does Mommy know this person?” she shrieked and pointed a finger at me.

Heads turned.

“Does she?”

The child looked at her mother, turned a bright shade of crimson, and started to wail.

“This is a stranger!”

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. More people turned to watch. I wanted to say, “Ma’am, I would never hurt your child. She only wanted to pet the puppy.” But I just stood there mute.

The woman dragged the child away. I picked up my dog’s leash, feeling the stares from those who had witnessed the moment, and wished I could just disappear.

What did that mother achieve? She taught her child to fear everyone, except perhaps the family members, neighbors, and acquaintances who, statistics show, are most likely to harm her.

Clearly, the idea of stranger danger needs to go. KidsSmartz, a child safety program that educates families about preventing abduction and empowers kids in grades K-5 to practice safer behaviors, offers the following options.

Don’t say: Never talk to strangers. 

Say: You should not approach just anyone. If you need help, look for a uniformed police officer, a store clerk with a name tag, or a parent with children.

Don’t say: Stay away from people you don’t know. 

Say: It’s important for you to get my permission before going anywhere with anyone.

Don’t say: You can tell someone is bad just by looking at them. 

Say: Pay attention to what people do. Tell me right away if anyone asks you to keep a secret, makes you feel uncomfortable, or tries to get you to go with them.

Now, let’s banish the term stranger danger once and for all.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

I’ve worked out most of my life. Swimming laps and spending time on the treadmill are not things I enjoy. As I often tell the folks at the front desk of the health club where I spend time each week, the best part about being there is leaving. Because, I feel good when I’m done.

As you might expect, my gym has a locker room where I shower and dress. It has always been my understanding that this was a sanctuary, of sorts. But sometimes, not so much.

Before I get to my biggest gripe about the locker room, let’s talk about the parents that bring their children into that inner sanctum. As sometimes not-so-wee children stare at me during my post-shower dry off, I want to say, “Ma’am, I hope your offspring will not be permanently damaged and perhaps in need of psychological counseling after gazing upon my nakedness. After all, I’ve past six decades and well, as you can see …”

Generally, my mind stops at that point, realizing that such a parent would, no doubt, ignore me or spout some piffle about protecting her kids from stranger-danger. There is, after all, a child care center at my health club. So, it’s not as if they have no options. The good news is there is now a sign posted asking parents to refrain from dragging their progeny into the locker rooms and most parents actually take heed.

The other problem is the abundance of mirrors. We older naked folks generally try not to look at our reflections as we move to our lockers. We know better than to gaze too long in that brightly-lit environment. The problem emanates from young women, many of whom have decided the locker room is the perfect spot to take rear-end selfies. The first time I watched a twenty-something posing between two mirrors, turning her backside this way and that, snapping picture after picture, I was bemused. I surreptitiously watched her, amazed at the number of photos she was taking and the contortions she subjected her body to. It seems selfies are a lot of work.

Recently, yet another young woman posed between the mirrors clicking away. I assumed she planned to post the pics on social media. Then I wondered what said selfies might say about her. Would men want to date her? Or would they flee in fear that her self-absorption might envelop them.

I paused and then, with clear intentions, walked my almost 64-year-old naked self between her and the back mirror. I pictured her aghast as she swiped though her pics later on. I wanted to say, “You know, someday, you’ll look just like me.”

But I didn’t. I think she’ll get the point.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

A chance encounter in Arizona’s White Mountains tested my wilderness skills … and I failed.

With my love of rock collecting, camping, and scuba diving, I have spent a great deal of time in the wilderness. I have always prided myself on knowing what to do in case of an emergency. Of course, knowing what to do and actually doing it are two different things. One day in Greer, Arizona, my outdoor skills were seriously tested, and I failed miserably.

What was I doing in the tiny town that perches 8,300 feet above sea level in the heart of the White Mountains? It started with my now ex-husband Higgs, who, at the time, was the chef and manager at the iconic Greer Lodge.

“How’d you like to go stay at the inn from Sunday night through Thursday morning?” he said.

“Why?”

“I can’t stand being there all week?”

Ah. I understood. Higgs was a city boy from Detroit who had no love for wild places. The quiet of the mountains and high meadows drove him crazy.

“What would I have to do?”

“I need you to train the waitstaff. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

I had spent five years working in a restaurant in Washington D.C., both as a server and a bartender, so I had those skills.

“And, I’d like you to eat three meals a day and critique the food.”

That sounded delightful, but still I held out.

“You can stay in a nice room at the lodge. I’ll pay you $125 a day.”

As I was unemployed at the time, the idea was starting to intrigue me.

“And, you can bring Georgie with you.”

“I’ll do it!” I said delighted that I could have my sweet dog with me.”

And so, I began my weekly treks from Phoenix – where the temperature hovered around 110 degrees – to the cool green pines of the Arizona’s White Mountains.

The Little Colorado River flows placidly behind the Greer Lodge, where I worked one summer.

The Greer Lodge was a rustic, two-story, pine-log building that had eight rooms, a back porch fronting the Little Colorado River, and a restaurant. I did my best to organize and instruct the servers, local young people who didn’t appreciate my efforts. They called me a low-lander behind my back, and mostly ignored my efforts to teach them how to properly open and serve wine, deliver orders, and clear tables. I did however, enjoy the food. My ex was an superb chef, and the people in the kitchen followed his recipes well.

The best part of being in Greer was that, between meals, I was free to do anything I wanted. Which for me meant exploring the forests and streams with my dog by my side. Georgie was a small black and white collie who had chosen me on a trip to Georgia. We first met when I was visiting a friend who had instructed me to go next door to borrow a hammer. When I crossed into the neighbor’s yard, two giant Rottweilers hurled themselves at a chain-link fence, scaring the crap out of me. Then, a little pup appeared, barking frantically at the big dogs, placing herself between me and them. Fearing for her safety, I scooped her up.

“She’s from across the street,” my friend said. “There was another puppy, but they let them run lose and it got hit by a car and died.”

I gazed at the little dog that had curled up next to me on the couch .

“Go tell them you want her.”

So, I walked across the street, where a bratty teenage girl greeted me at the door. “Oh!” She rolled her eyes. “It got out of its cage again.”

“It!” I clutched the dog. Her little head rested on my shoulder. The girl reached for the animal and I pulled back. “Do you want this dog?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think my aunt wants her either.”

“I’ll be staying over there for a few days.” I pointed at the house. “If you want her, come and get her.”

To my relief, they never appeared.

Georgie and I had been together a long time the day we found ourselves in a bit a jam on a mountain trail. It was a spectacular blue-sky, puffy-white-clouds kind of day. The sweet scent of pine and moist forest earth permeated the air. Then a noise made me stop and look uphill. I noticed that the thick vegetation was swaying. My first thought was an elk, but the foliage was not very tall, so an elk would have been visible. The plants continued moving back and forth as the hidden animal trudged toward me. I knew then it could only be a bear.

Black bears like these roam the mountains and some lowland areas of Arizona

I’d never meet a bear on foot in the wild.  My understanding was that I should make myself look as big as possible by raising my arms in the air and create a lot of noise. Most importantly, I should not run.

I thought about those things, but stood frozen. I glanced at Georgie, who sniffed the air beside me. Our eyes met. Then, she bolted back up the trail. My dog — who as a pup had so bravely defended  me — disappeared around a rocky bend. I looked back at the swaying shrubs trying to gage the size of the animal that was approaching. It was big.

Against all advice … I ran, skittering over loose stones, dodging roots and rocks. I thought about looking back, but was afraid of what I’d see. I ran until I doubled over, out of breath. Georgie was waiting for me on the trail. Other than the thumping of my heart, the woods were quiet, only a breeze pushing through the pines.

Later, Georgie and I made our way back to the lodge. Perhaps, because we were both embarrassed by our reactions, we never again spoke of our encounter with the bear.

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.