Different Roads

Different Roads

Larry K. Meredith
Copyright Date: 2014
Pages: 132
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  • Book Info
    Different Roads
    Book Description:

    "Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle."-George R.R. Martin

    The works in this anthology reflect both the myth and the truth about the part of the United States we call the "West." Is there one "true" West? Or have the changes that are overwhelming most of the rest of the country so modified the West that there is little commonality? The editors ofDifferent Roadsbelieve, with Stephen R. Covey, that our "strength lies in differences, not in similarities" and are constantly amazed by what Stanley Baldwin calls "the many-sidedness of truth." Many sides of the truth of the West are represented in the anthology. Is everything here absolutely the truth? The reader must decide.

    Topics included in this collection of poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction range from the West's diversity of landscape, people, languages, attitudes and history to discussions of water issues, wildfires, antiquities and a broad range of environmental concerns.

    Different Roadsis the third volume in Western Press Books' literary anthology series Manifest West. The press, affiliated with with Western State Colorado University, annually produces one anthology focused on Western regional writing. The 2014 theme is Western diversity and the titleDifferent Roadscomes from George R.R. Martin's quote above.

    eISBN: 978-1-60732-365-5
    Subjects: Language & Literature

Table of Contents

  1. Front Matter
    (pp. i-v)
  2. Table of Contents
    (pp. vi-x)
  3. Foreword
    (pp. 1-4)
    Larry K. Meredith

    When the editors of this anthology began contemplating a 2014 theme, our deliberations uncovered a wide diversity of ideas. So there it was, right in front of us, perfectly exposed and absolutely dead-on. “Diversity” it was. Western Diversity. Our anthology would lay bare the variety of people, geography, ideologies, wildlife, weather, histories, and maybe even attitudes toward tourists along with much more of what makes up this part of the United States. The possibilities were endless, as we discovered when we received nearly four hundred submissions from authors across the country.

    The editors were impressed with, not only the variety...

    • Register Cliff, Wyoming
      (pp. 7-8)
      Nina Bennett
    • Rancher
      (pp. 9-9)
      Peter Bridges
    • County Road 80
      (pp. 10-11)
      Joe Carvalko
    • Land of Enchantment
      (pp. 12-13)
      William Cordeiro
    • Cowboys Explore
      (pp. 14-14)
      David Lavar Coy
    • Bison I
      (pp. 15-15)
      Chad Hanson

      The state of Montana hosts a bison hunt. Shooters apply, and then they hold a lottery. A family from Indiana wins. They drive their truck toward a herd. Today, the honor goes to the first son. He targets a bull that’s walking point to protect women and yearlings. The bison trembles. Then he falls. The father pumps an elbow. Siblings jump. The mother hides a tear of pride. They walk up to the bull and find his chest heaving. This time, the father shoots a handgun from a holster tucked under his nylon coat. The herd watches at a distance....

    • Next Five Exits
      (pp. 16-16)
      Duane L. Herrmann
    • Conceptual Models of Geomorphology for Cutoffs on the Sprague River
      (pp. 17-17)
      M.E. Hope
    • Assimilation
      (pp. 18-18)
      William Hudson
    • Fixed Points in California
      (pp. 19-20)
      Marc Janssen
    • Big Hat Country
      (pp. 21-21)
      Don Kunz
    • Resistance
      (pp. 22-22)
      Ellaraine Lockie
    • California Zephyr, Westbound
      (pp. 23-23)
      Rebecca Pelky
    • Epistles to the Imnaha Pack: Dispatches from Journey
      (pp. 24-26)
      Scot Siegel
    • Front Range on Fire
      (pp. 27-27)
      Jared Smith
    • Chinese Dream on the Canadian Border
      (pp. 28-29)
      Scott T. Starbuck
    • Grandpa Lupe
      (pp. 30-30)
      Alex L. Swartzentruber
    • Hydrology, Northern Great Basin
      (pp. 31-31)
      Pepper Trail
    • Phoenix Eclogue
      (pp. 32-33)
      Miles Waggener
    • John True Arrow
      (pp. 34-34)
      Sarah Brown Weitzman
    • The Passage of Wild Horses
      (pp. 37-40)
      John Haggerty

      He found the horse about three-quarters up one of those canyons that cut the desert mountain ranges like ragged wounds. It was a brown-and-white mare from one of the wild herds that roam around like moving fossils, artifacts of the mean, drunken miners, the benighted settlers, the outright lunatics who brought their animals to this angry land.

      The men and women were mostly gone. They left behind not just the old, abandoned, and rotting shacks, dead and wind-scoured orchards, collapsing tunnels, and other mummified human dreams, but their animals as well. And it seemed they had formed their horses and...

    • Six Feet Under the Prairie
      (pp. 41-57)
      Tim Weed

      Surely I can be forgiven for misjudging Billy Hurley. I was only nineteen that summer, so it’s understandable that I didn’t see him for more than he appeared at first glance: a thirtyish Okie pretending to be something he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been a real cowboy anyway, not in this day and age, not even if he did look the part: the sharp-toed shitkickers, the alternating duo of threadbare western-cut shirts, the greasy Custer-length hair, the strawcolored handlebar mustachio of which he was obviously so proud. The crew gave him plenty of guff for this low-budget cowpoke look, but...

    • The Fire Wolves
      (pp. 58-72)
      Barbara Yost

      A lightning strike bore into the earth and Granddad was there to see it happen.

      He stubbed out a cigar and pointed to a grove this side of the horizon, not far from the cabin.

      “They’ll come now,” he said. “You watch. It starts with just a few, yapping and chasing their tails, but their pack will grow until there are hundreds, then thousands, and it won’t stop without a fight. We’re in for it, I’m afraid.”

      Marilyn came to the porch. “Where are they, Pop?”

      “Look to that stand of piñons. It’s just a puff of smoke that comes...

    • Prayer For Rain
      (pp. 75-88)
      Harrison Candelaria Fletcher

      Heat rises from the badlands highway west of Albuquerque, pooling between hills like liquid silver, or mirrors of air. Ahead on the horizon, thunderheads boil. My uncle raises a finger from the wheel and in his Sunday sermon baritone, says, “Really coming down. And just where we’re headed.” In the back seat my mother smooths her salt-cedar hair. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Take this storm from our path.” It’s mid-morning. Late summer. Our journey has just begun.

      I settle in riding shotgun, and stare into the vanishing point of Interstate 40 and Mesa Chivato, conjuring an image of our destination—...

    • The Bones That Were Our People
      (pp. 89-92)
      C.L. Prater

      We saw the signs, small bits of thin black cloth amongst shards of gnawed gold-brown wood, lying on top of the sandy clay soil just as the prairie dog had unearthed them. Their burrow entrances, scattered thinly amongst the cemetery’s headstones and wooden crosses, were not round and symmetrical like the mounds beyond the sagging fence, out in open prairie. The fence appeared to be the dividing line between what could be thought of as the active and passive uses of land. There was an irony in following through with that thought for it would be hard to prove which...

    • Wherever the Road Goes
      (pp. 93-102)
      Mark Rozema

      My father asks, for the fifth time, if we are on Highway 160. Yes, I tell him. “Why does the road keep changing direction?” he asks. This too is a question he’s asked a few times already. Taking my eye off the road just long enough to meet his gaze for a consoling moment, I reply “We’re in the mountains, Dad. It’s hard to go in a straight line.”

      My father’s eyes are a startling sky-blue, the blue of high desert sky on an October day. I’m tempted to describe them as piercing, which is both a cliché and not...

    • The Indian
      (pp. 103-110)
      Roz Spafford

      Bud’s presence in our lives only became a mystery later, once I grew up. When I was a child, he was as permanent as a parent and as familiar. I was curious about a few things—why he insisted on using the outhouse rather than the indoor bathroom and where he went when he went off on foot and where some of his teeth had gone. But I never wondered why he lived with us part of each year once he had sold the ranch to us, rather than with his son and daughter-in-law who ran a motel in town,...

  7. Contributors