Mixed Grazing: A Collection of Short Stories
By Chad Strong
()
About this ebook
Immerse yourself in eight captivating journeys through a range of different genres in this pulse-pounding book! From the wild west to modern day, supernatural beings to heart-stopping suspense, tales of love to coming-of-age and more, you won't be able to put this book down.
Within these pages:
A boy tracks his father’s killer through the wilderness, determined to extract the revenge his father would have wanted ... Dale returns to his childhood sanctuary in nature to do the unthinkable — only to find his imaginary old friend is indeed a very real fairy ... Jenny must make a life and death decision regarding her beloved horse ... plus five more thrilling tales!
Don't miss out, get your copy now and leap into worlds of adventure!
The stories:
Blue Sky and Gray Smoke
As Union soldier George battles for his life against a young Confederate, he realizes they’re the only ones left alive. He's got to make new decisions — and stay alive to see them through.
The Crossing
Rick Barton plans to take his loot and his reluctant woman north to Canada and a new life. So far, he's outrun the posse. Can he outrun his own choices?
The Tracker
Young Will tracks his father's killer until he has him in his sights. Retribution, his father had preached, an eye for an eye. Now, Will would have it.
Deadlock
Detective Tom Mallory must stop a madman who dismembered his brother to prevent another death. But will Mallory have to sacrifice himself to do it?
The Churchyard Incident
Freddie fights to save his best friend from the evil disguised as the new kid in town.
The Camas Fairy
A mature Dale returns to his boyhood sanctuary in nature to do the unthinkable - only to meet his childhood friend - a very real fairy.
Stable Hands, Stable Hearts
Set to win his first Hi-Point trophy at the year’s final horse show, 17-year-old Scott spots the girl of his dreams. Can he win both her and the trophy?
The Decision
Jen has devoted the greater part of her life to her beloved horse, Phoenix. As age overtakes him, must she make that most final of decisions?
Chad Strong
Chad Strong is a Canadian author to whom the "Three R's" means: Readin', Writin', and Ridin'- his greatest passions.Chad discovered the power of books at a young age and has been enjoying and learning through the written word ever since. His main interests lie in westerns, fantasy, history, mythology, and literary classics. As with his reading preferences, Chad's writing doesn't stick to any one particular genre. He writes the stories that hassle him, demanding to be told, be they western, fantasy, supernatural, suspense, young adult — historical or contemporary — or any combination thereof.Chad's first novel, High Stakes, made it to the Finals for both a Peacemaker Award by the Western Fictioneers in the category of Best First Western Novel, and for a RONE Award by InD'Tale Magazine in the American Historical category.High Stakes appeals to both male and female audiences with its Western grit, Historical interest, and Romantic elements. Set in Victoria, BC of 1877, the novel has received favourable reviews, including one from noted Victoria historian, Norman K. Archer.A dedicated horseman as well, Chad's time and energy have always been divided by his two greatest passions – horses and books. If there wasn’t a pair of reins or a manure fork in his hands, there’d likely be a novel, or a pen and notebook.Accomplishments to Date:HIGH STAKES (Western Novel)1) FINALIST — The Peacemaker Award for Best First Western Novel by the Western Fictioneers2) FINALIST — The RONE Awards in the American Historical category, by InD'Tale Magazine.3) 5-STAR REVIEW - Silver Badge - The Reader's Favorite Book Reviews!Also, a few short stories were chosen as Reader's Favorites:1) THE CAMAS FAIRY - Voted Best Short Story in the January 2012 issue of Bards & Sages Quarterly2) THE TRACKER - Voted Best Short Story in the May 2014 issue of Frontier Tales3) THE CHURCHYARD INCIDENT - Voted Best Short Story in the October 2014 issue of Bards & Sages QuarterlyAfter several readers asked, Chad was pleased to gather eight of his published short stories into a single volume called Mixed Grazing - A Collection of Short Stories. He plans to release a second volume once he has enough stories to fill it.
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Mixed Grazing - Chad Strong
MIXED GRAZING
A Collection of Short Stories
By
Chad Strong
HunterCat Publishing
ONTARIO and BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
Do you enjoy reading stories across multiple genres?
If so, this little book might be for you.
"Mixed Grazing—A Collection of Short Stories"
offers a blend of eight tales, including Western, Fantasy, Supernatural, Suspense, Romance, Young Adult, and combinations thereof. These stories originally appeared in professional magazines, but some are now hard to find in their original publications. After several readers asked if he planned a collection, the author gathered the stories here in one little book he hopes you will enjoy.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
MIXED GRAZING – A COLLECTION of SHORT STORIES
Copyright © 2017 by Chad Strong
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S.
Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
HunterCat Publishing
Ontario and British Columbia, Canada
www.chadstrongswriting.weebly.com
HunterCat Publishing Edition /August 2017
First Paperback Edition / August 2017
ISBN 978-0-9947350-2-7
Cover Design and Logo by Charlene Raddon of www.silversagebookcovers.com
Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com.
Acknowledgments
Blue Sky and Gray Smoke
was originally published online in Frontier Tales, January 2012, Issue # 28
The Crossing
was originally published online in Frontier Tales, in two parts: April 2013, Issue # 43, and May 2013, Issue # 44
The Tracker
was originally published online in Frontier Tales, May 2014,
Issue # 56
Deadlock
was originally published in Tyro Magazine, December 1989, and reprinted online in Mysterical-E, Fall 2011
The Camas Fairy
was originally published in Bards & Sages Quarterly, January 2012, followed by inclusion in Bardic Tales & Sage Advice, Vol V, June 2013
The Churchyard Incident
was originally published in Death Rattle, a Magazine of Dark Fiction, Fall 2010, followed by Bards & Sages Quarterly, October 2014, followed by inclusion in Bardic Tales & Sage Advice, Vol VII, August 2015
Stable Hands, Stable Hearts
was originally published in Rawhide ’n Roses – A Western Anthology, March 2014
The Decision
was originally published in The Hamilton Spectator newspaper, July 2001
Copyright © 2017 by Chad Strong
All stories reprinted by permission of the author.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BLUE SKY and GRAY SMOKE
THE CROSSING
THE TRACKER
DEADLOCK
THE CAMAS FAIRY
THE CHURCHYARD INCIDENT
STABLE HANDS, STABLE HEARTS
THE DECISION
THANK YOU
OTHER BOOKS BY CHAD STRONG
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BLUE SKY and GRAY SMOKE
A barbaric yawp surging from his throat, George charged the creek with his rifle, bayonet affixed, clutched tightly in both hands. From the other side of the creek the cloud of gray charged him, itself a screaming, dagger-clawed beast. He was certain it would rake him, tear him. But he was charging forward regardless — the company had their orders.
He heard the captain call out something, but he could not discern the words through the chaotic cacophony and commotion about him. Men shouted and screamed. Everywhere, from within their ranks and without, bullets sped from the smoke and the forest like insects on a wild and deadly spree. Mortars boomed and shells soared for the sun. Always, always they fell short and plummeted to earth, whistling their eerie swan songs.
George didn’t know which one sang for him, but one of them did. The blast of soil, water, and shrapnel shoved him yards beyond his own stride and slammed him face down on the bank. The ground shook beneath him as another shell exploded nearby. Mud and water sprayed his blue uniform from head to foot. He flung his arms over his head.
The captain’s voice came to him through the din somehow, Who’s firing those? Who in blazes is firing —?
George hoped the captain hadn’t been cut off as abruptly as his words. He didn’t have to release his head and look up to know that the shells were killing both sides. Somebody was making a big mistake.
Something — he didn’t pause to consider what — made him look up. A Confederate soldier was coming for him, splashing through the shallow creek with his bayonet ready. With tunnel vision George watched him. Where was his own weapon? His right hand reached around, frantically slapping the mud for the feel of wood and metal. Rocks, mud, reeds. The rebel was only four steps away. Panicking, George twisted and tried to stand.
Searing pain ripped through his left leg and he wailed in shock. Dropping to his knees he spotted his rifle, fell toward it, and yanked it upright just as the reb’s bayonet slipped through his sack coat and into his left shoulder. The new pain ignited a rage that compelled George to thrust his own bayonet up into the enemy’s belly. The blade in his shoulder jerked and in reflex George yanked his to the right. The rebel soldier cried out and fell beside him in the creek.
The graycoat’s blade ripped out of George’s shoulder as he fell, but George’s blade stuck and was nearly yanked out of his hands as he fell forward on top of the other. For a stunned moment, George could only lie atop him. Then he saw the red blood oozing from the graycoat’s belly and pooling on the surface of the creek water next to him. With a grunt, George shoved himself up and off the enemy soldier.
The movement sent pain raging through his shoulder and leg again. He pressed a hand to his bleeding shoulder and looked down at his leg. About halfway below his knee, it was gone.
He lifted his face to the smoke-choked sky and screamed. He screamed until there was no breath left in him to scream. He stared down at his severed leg, certain it must be someone else’s he was looking at, certain that it was only the grime in his eyes, certain that once he blinked it would be there again. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and blinked deliberately. Once, twice, three times. Still the leg was gone. Panicking, he splashed around as far as he could reach, searching for it. It had to be here. But what to look for? Would his foot and ankle be intact or in itty bitty pieces that he would never find scattered all over the creek bank? He’d been wearing red socks, red socks that his mother had knit him and sent at Christmas to cheer him. He was still wearing one.
I still got one, Ma!
he cried aloud.
The other sock should be easy to spot. He searched up and down the creek with his eyes until his vision blurred and he wavered and slumped into the muck, sobbing. But his sobs ended quickly as he became aware of his lightheadedness. He was losing blood from his wounds. He had better do something about it. Fast.
He removed the bayonet from the reb’s forgotten weapon and slit his trouser leg. Tearing off strips of fabric, he bound his wounds as best he could. Exhausted from the effort, George leaned back against the creek bank and closed his eyes. Sleep tugged at him. Sweet, peaceful blackness beckoned. It would be so easy …
A sound startled him — a sound so close beyond his silent sweet blackness that George sat bolt upright. He hadn’t even realized how quiet it was before the sound. He looked around. The trees seemed quiescent after the turmoil, their young spring leaves still and silent, half-cloaked in the mist and smoke. Nothing stirred on the battlefield. George saw bodies of men littering the grassy meadow. No one walked among them, checking for fallen comrades they might save. Perhaps he should do that.
George attempted to stand but collapsed back down with a cry of agony. Maybe with a crutch. He could use the rebel’s rifle as a crutch. He reached for it. Just as his hand closed over the slippery wet wood stock, a pale hand closed over his. George froze, sucking in his breath. Snatching back his hand he realized the reb was still alive. George yanked his own rifle from the soldier’s belly and raised the bayonet to finish him.
But the boy’s cry stopped him. Fresh blood brightened his grimy white shirt and soaked darkly into the wool of his gray sack coat. George’s eyes scanned his surroundings. None of this soldier’s mates were rushing to save him, to kill George for him. Nobody moved. Gray uniforms and blue lay still and silent.
In a sudden flash of panic, George cried out, Johnny! Ted! Burtie!
He waited. No answer. Cap’n Tay!
No answer. Not even