View Single Post
Old 12-21-2012, 11:04 AM   #1
crutledge
eBook FANatic
crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.crutledge ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.
 
crutledge's Avatar
 
Posts: 18,301
Karma: 16071131
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: Alabama, USA
Device: HP ipac RX5915 Wife's Kindle
Adams, Clifton: Bred of the Desert. V1. 21 Dec 2012

Clifton Adams was born December 1, 1919 in Comanche, OK, and he passed away due to a heart attack on October 7, 1971 in San Francisco, CA. The author of nearly 50 books and over 125 short stories, it is truly a shame that he died so young at age 52. He was still in his prime as a writer, having just won two consecutive Spur Awards for Best Western Novel from the Western Writers of America, first in 1969 for Tragg's Choice and in 1970 for The Last Days of Wolf Garnett. He had also recently been named "Oklahoma Writer of the Year" in 1965 by the University of Oklahoma, his alma mater. In addition to his own name, he also published under the pseudonyms Clay Randall (the excellent Amos Flagg series of Westerns), Jonathan Gant, and Matt Kinkaid (sometimes spelled Kincaid).

Excerpt
It was high noon in the desert, but there was no dazzling sunlight. Over the earth hung a twilight, a yellow-pink softness that flushed across the sky like the approach of a shadow, covering everything yet concealing nothing, creeping steadily onward, yet seemingly still, until, pressing low over the earth, it took on changing color, from pink to gray, from gray to black—gloom that precedes tropical showers. Then the wind came—a breeze rising as it were from the hot earth—forcing the Spanish dagger to dipping acknowledgment, sending dust-devils swirling across the slow curves of the desert—and then the storm burst in all its might. For this was a storm—a sand-storm of the Southwest.
crutledge is offline   Reply With Quote