A Rainy Day and a Good Book

Not much in this world—other than little babies or puppies—is better than a good book--unless it might be a rainy day and a good book. Considering that we are just a bit beyond the little baby stage and not particularly interested in a new critter of any ilk, we have just about the best of all possible worlds right now. Oh sure, we are just as susceptible to the vagaries of the economic marketplace, the irritation of chiggers, ticks, and politics as anyone else. But doggone if it isn’t pleasant to just curl up somewhere and escape into a good book.


Broken Trail by Alan Geoffrion was just lying there stuffed on top of some books someone gave me. I only kept it because I thought Fang might find it enjoyable. He likes almost all things Western—particularly Maverick—the TV series. He even has the grandsons hooked on that one so that the daughter has to record the show when they are not home to watch it. Shaking head and taking a deep breath. Anyway, I am so glad that I picked the book up and read a few pages because I really did not want to put it down after I started it. I read about half of it last night and finally made myself go to bed. Then all day at work I looked forward to getting back to the book. It was definitely worth the read.


Violence doesn’t appeal to me, but realistically I know that it has happened in the past and will continue to happen. But this book does not elevate violence into some kind of glorified experience. Instead, violence is met with the force necessary to prevent death or the recurrence of violent acts of men and women. The Western backdrop gives a reassuring measure of hope to the principles of a man of integrity who involuntarily rescues five young Chinese women who were kidnapped and were to be sold into the slavery of prostitution. Prentice Ritter is the main character, but it is easy to tell that it is the life of the Westerner that has molded his character just as much as his favorite horse, Bob Tate, has molded Print’s legs into a bow.


Reading about men of character lifts my spirits, but reading about spunky women who aren’t afraid to learn to deal with the world around them absolutely inspires me. The working title of this book was originally Daughters of Joy. It probably wouldn’t have sold many books or have been made into an Academy Award movie with that title, but I still think it is a great title for the story.


Finally, I agree with one of the thoughts of Print: I can’t ever remember a horse that smelled bad.