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Mark Wm Smith
An overeducated, blue-collar cowboy, I grew up on along the banks of the Yellowstone River in Eastern Montana. Raised by a long haul trucker and a bartending waitress, I learned the hard ways of the modern frontier, scraping life from the unforgiving high chaparral.
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The Last Winter of 2000
Beginnings are impossible. I’ve been starting the author game for 20-plus years. It rarely appears as work in progress. Fits and starts. That’s my record. Fits lead to starts/restarts lead to fits, ad nauseam. Time to stop beginning and advance. Accept my invitation...
MGC Chapter Forty
It’s one thing to break into a dead man’s house, or even the house of a fugitive from the law, to search for evidence that can help your case. It’s another entirely to break into the home of a living, presumably law abiding, citizen, especially an officer of the law....
MGC Chapter Thirty-Nine
It took most of a half hour to find Deputy Spiesz’s home. This worked in my favor, since he’d gone to lunch late. I could have just followed him from the station, but didn’t want to risk being seen. So I waited and tried to find the place on my own. Addresses in the...
MGC Chapter Thirty-Eight
“That’s free money. That’s free money. I didn’t even know about craps, but I could tell, that’s free money.” Energy rippled through his wiry frame. Five foot five, a buck and a quarter at best, he strung words out like dynamite fuse. “With craps there’s a feel. You...