Lachesis Publishing has just signed a contract to publish "War Paint", since Capri Publishing folded.  It has had some great endorsements including one by Don Bendell.   Of all of my books, this is my favorite, although after about the fifth proofing, it did get a little old.  It is not only historically done, but has a good plot to go along with it.  Click here to read an excerpt.

Finally Saga books is publishing "Missouri in Flames, I Rode with Jesse James and I expect it to be released within the next month or so.  It's a pretty good read, if you like historical fiction.  You can read an excerpt here.

Well, I've been busy since my last entry.  I now have "War Paint" to be released on 12 December 2006 and then "White Wolf Creek" on 12 January 2007.    By the way, "War Paint" was endorsed by Don Bendell of the famous "Colt Series" of Western Fiction.   Both books can be pre-ordered at Capri Publishing with a $2.00 per book savings!

A Synopsis of White Wolf Creek

“Black” Moses and Cotton are two old mountain men has-beens that are riding for the Bar over Double H Ranch, when cattle start to disappear.  While neither man is top hand as a cowboy, they prove invaluable to the ranch because of their tracking skills.  When men start to die and gunplay becomes common, Big John Murphy, the owner of the ranch, asks the two mountain men to find out what is going on.

No sooner are the two mountain men on the trail of professional killers, than an English Lord arrives to take ownership of the nearby Circle C Ranch.  Knowing little of the ways out west and even less about cattle, the man appears to be a pushover.  It’s only after a shootout in the saloon, involving the Lord, that the locals start to understand and respect the Englishman.  He proves he’s got real grit in his crawl.

It takes the kidnapping of Big John’s wife, Susan, and the wife of the Englishman, to bring the whole situation to a boil.   Why the murders, bank robbery, and rustling, especially in a small backwoods place?  Was there any truth to the rumor of a lost Spanish treasure being found?  If it had been found, who found it?  Was it the bank teller, the town’s only lawyer, the bartender, or maybe the town’s marshal?  Besides Big John and the Englishman, they were the only men in town with any money to speak of.  Or, perhaps, had none of them found it?

Going to be a good read, I think.

Take care and keep yer powder dry pilgrim,

WR Benton

Capri Publishing has announced that WR Benton's book, "War Paint" will be available for preorders on Friday, September 15, 2006.  A portion of all book sales will go to charity, both national and worldwide.  Click here to read an excerpt or here to see a larger image of the cover.

Not even released yet, the book is getting favorable comments from other authors.

Norm Rourke

Author, Prairie Wind, Poems & Stories

Steven M. Ulmen,

Author of "Toby Ryker."

Willy Eugene's Pet Bull

© Copyright 2005 by Gary L. Benton, All Rights Reserved

“Ya know, there just ain't much a redneck doesn't know something about!” My Uncle Andy said as he picked up his coffee cup and took a good swig of the thick hot liquid.

We were all seated at the big booth in my Uncle Andy's restaurant having breakfast. The time was early, or way before the rooster crows, and along with breakfast we were having us a discussion. We always stopped to eat at Uncle Andy's in the early mornings before we went hunting or fishing. It was located in a small hole in the wall next to the bus stop.

This morning the group was made up of Bubba, William Robert (Billy Bob), Uncle Floyd, T-Bone, and me. Of course, as soon as we were seated, Uncle Andy joined us at the table.

I am constantly surprised that anyone can drink Andy's coffee. He completely amazed me when he would gulp it the way he did, since it was thick enough to tar paper a roof with. He claims it was his time in the Navy that taught him to make good coffee . He further stated that after drinking his coffee a person had a deep appreciation for only the best. Well, I can tell you for sure, that I can agree with. Seems right after I tasted his coffee, I developed a deep appreciation for good coffee as well! And, ANY coffee was better than Andy's! But, the man can cook!

“Well, I ain't so shore I agree with ya one hundert percent on that Andy. But, you always been a bit on the dumb side. Heck far, most the time you don't know come heah from fetch.” T-Bone said as he took a big bite of biscuit and gravy off his fork. The bite was so big it made his right cheek bulge like a chipmunk storing food for the winter as he chewed. He and Andy were about the same age and size, which means old and fat.

“Bullchips! You know and I know, that we both know, that everyone else knows, that all of us know, just what we know. And, YOU know it! You know what I mean!” Andy continued, but he had changed from sippin' coffee to eating his grits.

“Uncle Andy? Uncle Andy? Listen to me here. I ain't got no idea what in the tar-nation you are talking about. What is all this, you know and they know garbage? You sound like a hungry Yankee used car salesman. You're making no sense at all. You're talking just to hear yourself talk.” William Robert spoke as he leaned forward and waved a gravy-coated spoon under my Uncle Andy's chin.

For a few minutes nothing was said at all. You could feel the tension in the air and we all knew my uncle was mad. Andy, obviously upset at first because we not agree with his views, finally realized we didn't even know what his views were. He had not done a very good job of conveying his thoughts, nor his strong opinions. So, he shoveled the grits in. I watched him eat two bowls of them.

I hated watching Andy eat grits. See, he put syrup on them, butter, ketchup, and then ate them with a spoon! AND, from a BOWL! Way I figured it; he should have been arrested for improper ingestion of the national Southern breakfast dish . It is sort of a capital crime against all Southern culture. And all of you rednecks know what I'm talking about! Ya just don't eat grits with a spoon and for shore not out of a bowl.

Finally after a few very long minutes Bubba stands up and yells, “Nurse! We need some coffee over here!” Every head in the place turned to look at this loud mouth redneck dressed in bibs, flannel shirt, boots, and ball cap. Yep, you guessed it, he looked like all the rest of us. Be hard to pick him out in a police line up if we were with him. Well, maybe not that difficult since he is a fairly big boy. As soon as Nadine Lucille turned and started toward our table Bubba sat back down.

Andy just shook his head and looked to the heavens. Way I figured it he had no reason to call upon the heavens, since all the folks at the table were his kinfolks. Andy could always blame a few ancestors, but not heaven for the mess he had on his hands. As Nadine arrived at the table with the coffee pot, Andy got up and walked off toward the kitchen mumbling to himself. He had taken to doing that every time we stopped by for a visit.

“Bubba,” Nadine said as she bent over and poured his coffee, “What is all this shouting about a nurse?”

Bubba gave her a big crooked grin and said, “Well, when I was hurt in the Vee-it-nam war, the only way I could get what I needed in the V.A. hospital was to scream for a nurse. It's an old habit.”

“Oh, you were a war hero Bubba? I didn't know that.” Nadine leaned forward until her face was almost touching Bubba's as she spoke. I know he could feel her breath on his cheeks.

I watched in anticipation as white pepper gravy ran off of Bubba's lip and down the right side of his cheek. It took a few seconds before Bubba was able to speak, but finally he said, “I twernt no war hero Nadine Lucille. I was just a common soldier doing my duty. I just got hit by some shrap-nails from an explosion once is all.”

Nadine raised her right hand and wiped the gravy off of Bubba's cheek. She gave him a big smile and a sexy wink. Nadine then stood straight, put her hands on her wide hips and said, “I don't agree with you at all Bubba. I think you were a hero and you are just too shy to admit it.”

I suspect she was going to say more, but the small bell mounted above the door jingled and an older couple entered. Nadine gave us a big smile and said, “But, I can't argue with you over it right now Bubba Lee, because here comes Mister Johnson with his old lady. You boys need anything, give me a yell. See ya all later.”

As she turned and walked over to the table were the Johnson's had seated themselves every head at our booth was on her. She was a mighty nice looking woman.

As if he could hear my thinking, Billy Bob said, “That is one very nice woman. Not only is she very attractive, but she is an intelligent woman too. The man who catches her will be one lucky man. She can burn the biscuits at my house any time.”

“Well, my biscuits ain't exackly a burnin' right now, but they sure enough be smokin' a little.” Bubba said as he looked over at Nadine.

“Speaking of luck. Did ya all here about what them tore-nad-ders did to Willy Eugene's place when they blew through here last week?” Asked Uncle Floyd.

I took a sip of my buttermilk, wiped off my mouth with the back of my hand and said, “Nope. But, I thought everyone was safe. I didn't heah of no body getting hurt.”

“Nobody hurt, but Willy lost his mobile home, a chicken house and a pretty long stretch of wood fence line. It's likely to take him a spell repairing it too. They are still finding chickens in the woods and from different directions for miles.” Bubba added.

“I heard his rooster crows at odd hours since the storm. He told me it crowed a little after midnight the other night. He said he didn't know what time hit was, so he got up and headed to work. Willy said he was half way to work before he realized his rooster had gone psycho on him.” Billy Bob stated flatly with a voice of knowledge.

“Cycle? You mean he taught that rooster to ride a bicycle? Now, that would be a thing to see wouldn't it Mule?” Bubba asked me with a grin.

“Did his live stock get out of it? They all make it?” I asked as I scooped up the last bite of my hot pork sausage on my fork.

“Bubba, you quit now. You know exackly what I meant. You are just being stupid.” Billy Bob said with a voice that shook just a little from frustration.

“Everything, but one of his dawgs. His bagel and his puddle are ok, but his pet bull didn't make it. Right now, everybody is livin' in the barn. They will be there at least till Willy can get a new used double wide mobile home back up on the cinder blocks.” Added Floyd as he looked around the table.

“His pet bull? I didn't even know he had a bull. Of course everybody knows he's got a few head of old milk cows.” Billy Bob commented as he put his coffee cup down and pulled out his pouch of chewin' tobacco. He filled his right cheek with chew and worked the cud until it felt right to him.

Uncle Floyd pulled out his old brier pipe and stuffed it. He lit it and puffed a few times before he continued his story. “Not his pet bull, his pet bull . You know, his dawg. His pet bull .”

“Floyd, they are called pit bulls, not pet bulls.” Billy Bob said.

“Pit bull, pet bull, it don't pay me no never mind. Y'all know what I am talking about. I am a-talking about dawgs. You know, a pet bull is a dawg with a permanent case of PNS.” Floyd said with a tone of deep frustration in his voice.

“He had insurance didn't he? And that is PMS, Floyd, not PNS.” Bubba said as he lit one of the huge cheap cigars he smoked.

“I cain't see what he sees in them pet bulls. They are about as friendly that big city Yankee divorce lawyer Bubba's wife had during his divorce.” T-Bone said with a grin.

“Nope, he had no insurance at all. His mobile home was a gift from his momma-in-law and it wasn't insured at all. And, Bubba, I don't care if it is PMS…. and not PNX. It don't matter none to me, because you knew what I meant all along.” Floyd commented between puffs on his pipe.

“Yep, them pet bulls is just like Yankee lawyers…they both go for your throat and then the kill.” Bubba interjected quickly.

I looked at my watch and realized it was going to be daylight in less than an hour. I wanted to be on the lake way before then and ready to fish at first light. I stood, finished off my coffee, placed the cup on the table, and said, “Well, at least Willy's still got his bagel and the puddle. That bagel is a good rabbit dawg. Actually, one of the best I have ever seen. But, personally, I don't see what him, or his woman, see in them puddles. Some kind of French breed, ain't they? I hate that little ball of cut fur it's got on the tip of its tail.”

All of us picked up our bills and headed toward Nadine Lucille at the cash register. In a few minutes we would all be on our way to a full day of bass fishin' and fun in the sun. Our conversation in Andy's restaurant would soon be all but totally forgotten by us. Besides, it didn't make no never mind. See it was just another cool and early summer morning in the backwoods of Southern America , the birthplace of a great nation. All in all it was just normal mornin' in Dixie Land , with a normal conversation.

This is an excerpt from Gary's book, "Bubba's Dawg Might be a Redneck" Available here.

I have a followup book for Nate Grisham titled, "White Wolf Creek" and the renowned artist, Carlos Hadaway, created the cover for this book.  See more of his fine work at: http://www.thearizonakid.com  He may be contacted by email at: mailto:info@thearizonakid.com .  Visit the studio and see of the fine work done by this man!  His work is a real inspiration to my writing.  If you didn't notice, on the book cover are three white wolves, which makes the cover match the title, which is unusual for many books.

In this book, Nate and Cotton Top are old men now, well into their fifties and still working, but not as mountain men any longer.  The beaver market has dried up, so the two me are now cowboys with a mountian man's mind in each.  They get involved in some serious doin's, a couple of killings, bushwhacking, cattle rustlin' and even a bank robbery!  As a result of their mountain man backgrounds the two are hired by an English Lord, who buys the nearby Circle C Ranch, to find out what is going on.  Cattle are missing, people are dead and the bank has been robbed.  It could be the town's crooked lawyer, the Marshal, or even the previous owner of the Circle C...but is it?

W.R. Benton

Nate Grisham, A Black Mountain Man

 © Copyright 2006 W.R. Benton, all rights reserved

Years before, Nate Grisham ran from a Southern plantation to the shining mountains, an untamed land where the only law was what a man can enforce with a gun.  He became a black mountain man, with no desires other than to live free and trap his plews. He’d experienced plenty of trouble in life, from cruel slave overseers to Blackfoot Indians, but none compared to the difficulties now facing him and his partner Cotton Top—a white mountain man who stands head and shoulders above the rest.  Nate was a man in love with his mountains, but when Captain Taylor M. Donnelly brutally kills a colonel and his wife, following a robbery, Nate becomes involved.  Returning the Captain to the Army, the black mountain man assumes it’s finished, until Donnelly escapes and swears to have his revenge.  Donnelly becomes a cold-blooded killer and rapist, with little to lose, but nothing will keep him killing the big black man. 

A contract was signed with Saga Books to publish this book in 2006 and I'm pretty excited about it.  I think this book is a real winner, because it shows the struggles Nate has to face just to be treated like a man.  While he's rarely respected, he's learned to accept it and lives his life with only a few trusted friends. 

Y'all take care, stay safe, and keep yer powder dry,

W.R. Benton

My latest work, not assigned a publishing date yet, has been completed and being edited and proofed.  Mike Lanier has given me permission to use his painting titled, "Lakota Brave" for the cover.  I love Mikes work and think he's one of the better Native American/Western artists on the market today.  Here is the credit for Mike that will be in the book,

The cover might vary some at the time of printing, once the art department finishes.  I usually send a layout, as shown, and the art people change what needs changed.

War Paint, a novel of 106,363 words, tells of the experiences of a spoiled and rich young man who heads west to become a mountain man in 1825.  Taken under wing by two experienced old mountain men, George Alwood the third becomes Bear Killer the mountain man.  After a short visit with Shoshoni Indians, Bear Killer finds himself with an unwanted wife and though he resist’s, he learns to love her.  A cold and hard winter in the mountains brings him closer to his bride, as he learns to live as a mountain man, and just before spring she informs him of the child to come.  Content now, with a canvas shelter, campfire, jerked meat, and soon to be family, Bear Killer reflects on his rich and pampered background.  After his wife and unborn child are killed by white men, the young mountain man makes a promise to avenge their deaths. However, it’s only after one of the old mountain men is killed that the action becomes almost nonstop.

Filled with months of research on mountain man illnesses and medications, as well as the difficult lifestyle, this book is historically accurate in most aspects.  Even the various Indian tribes (physical characteristics and cultures) and methods of placing a beaver trap have been explored.  Essentially, the manuscript explains how mountain men lived, their deep sense of personal honor, and their total dedication to those they loved.

Silently Beats the Drum

The Drum Series Volume 1

During the years he fought for the lost Southern cause during the Civil War, Jeb Patton should have died countless times.  Carrying only the precious memories of the girl he left behind, he survives until one night near a no name town in Arkansas and is severely wounded.  Waking up in a tent with his right leg removed at the knee, Jeb loses the desire to live, until he meets a man more severely injured than he. 

Released from the hospital, Jeb starts a long walk home with only one good leg, some moldy fatback and an old crutch.   Along the way he befriends an old runaway slave, named Moses, and picks up a young black girl, Faye, whose father has been killed by the Yankees.  Unsure what to do with the two, he takes them home to Missouri, knowing they can reach freedom from there.  But, once at home Jeb Patton discovers that the girl he loves deeply no longer loves him.  Thinking she does not want him because of his missing leg, Jeb takes Moses and Faye and moves west, to the shining mountains--where the real action starts after Faye is kidnapped by a gang of ruthless killers.

The size of the book should be around 5 1/2 by 8 1/2 and it is approximately 300 pages or so.  I am unsure of the price, but around $15.00.  More will be posted once I get the information from the publisher.

To order the book, contact sagabooks@shaw.ca or visit the website.