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Mark Warren Biography

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“There was no solace in the openness of the land, just as there was no healing in the isolation he sought in the barren plain of winter-killed grasses. The prairie seemed nothing more than an extension of the boundless emptiness that had opened inside him. Neither his mount nor his packhorse seemed a companion—but victims of his own aimlessness. The voiceless plain only provided a silent space for his demons to follow and murmur in his ear. Rilla’s bloodied body shadowed him as vividly as if dragged behind his horse on a travois, scraping a scar across the dry land. The child was not real. There were no memories attached to a nameless son to haunt him, save the mental picture of that inanimate thing tucked against its dead mother’s ribs. The child had seemed more an extension of Rilla’s suffering, giving her death a measurable size and shape. Mother and son comprised a common image rendered in scarlet, and the image had been painted on a permanent altar inside Wyatt’s mind.”

PainLonelinessHeartbreakEscape
Book:The Long Road to Legend
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“Though scientists may never verify an answer as to what fundamental, defining trait differentiates man from the creatures of the wild, I will set forth this theory: Could it be that we alone can imagine what it is to be someone or something other than ourselves? And if so, then by practicing that God-given skill, are we not only more human...but also more humane?”

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Book:Secrets of the Forest, Volume 2: Calling Up the Flame - The Art of Creating Fire, and Feeding the Spirit - Storytelling and Ceremony
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“Crossing the prairie he had learned something that he knew to be a contradiction: that a constant sound—like the slithering of wind-blown grass—can become its own silence. Here at the edge of the mountain ranges another lesson became clear: this dichotomous land had made some claim upon his soul. The plains seemed to go on forever, the gently rolling land seeming to mirror the endless sky. The vastness of it all gave him his first seed of hope. Here, in this spacious country where a man was constantly dwarfed by the grandeur of his surroundings, he might learn to burn up his past and let the sparks scatter to the stars. Under this broad Western sky there seemed to be more directions, more possibilities . . . not just about what to do with his life . . . but also what kind of man to be.”

Inspirational QuotesLife And LivingLife QuotationsIntrospectionNew StartLetting Go Of The Past
Book:Indigo Heaven
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“In the dark pre-dawn quiet he lay facing the window by his bed and stared at the stars hanging in the western sky. They floated over the land like the dust of jewels strewn across black water. These stars had become the milestones that marked his coming passage, and he gazed at them this one last time for the sake of preserving a memory, he supposed. One last view through the windowglass of his youth.”

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Book:The Long Road to Legend
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“That fence has gotta 'lectric charge runnin' through it!" Duffy whispered. "Felt like I got struck by lightnin' right b'tween my shoulder blades! It crackled like when the barber turns on his trimmer." Ott had had his suspicions about the electric fence, but there had been only one way to know for sure. That's why some people were generals and others were sergeants, after all.”

HumorMountainComicGeorgiaFarceAppalachianDahlonega
Book:Moon of the White Tears
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“For a time, she alternates sipping her coffee and staring out the window. “Bee-lee would have been the kind of father to spoil a child.” She smiles. “But it would have brought out the best in him.” “Just like you did,” I am bold to say. “He told me that himself.” Showing no surprise, she nods. “Yes, I know. He told me many times, and yet I knew it even before he realized it.” She shrugs her head to one side. “I know he had other girls. They all loved him. How could they not? But I knew what we had was the gift that God gives only once.”

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Book:A Last Serenade for Billy Bonney
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“We put him to the test that afternoon after the Kid woke up. I piled every weapon we had into the wagon and trucked the arsenal halfway across the San Simon Valley. One by one I fired off a round from each of the borrowed weapons and wrote down the order in which I had sent the reports. When I returned at midafternoon, we compared my notes to the Kid’s. Jack had not once failed to identify gun make and model, caliber, and brand of ammunition. He was even able to tell whether I had fired off a report with my right or left hand. Lord knows how he did that. I, of course, had to see it for myself. We sent Pate off to the South Pass of the Dragoons and he commenced to fire off rounds at dusk. BAM! came the first report, aborning to us from the distant mountains and then quickly disintegrating into the maw of the desert sky. “Remington forty-four,” Jack said. “Eighteen sixty-nine model.” He sat on a rock with his hands splayed over his stumpy knees and his head cocked for the next selection. POW! Jack pursed his lips. “Colt’s Lightning . . . forty-one caliber . . . iv’ry grips.” BOOM! At this report Jack chuckled. “Well, first off . . . forty-five caliber Peacemaker, seven-and-a-half-inch barrel,” he announced proudly. Then he smiled. “That ol’ dodger Pate . . . he’s a slick one, tryin’ to pull one on me.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Along with the Colt he let go with a derringer, thirty-two caliber. Sounded like it ain’t been cleaned in a while.” I sat down next to Jack and draped my arm over his rounded shoulders. “Jack, I believe you’ve given credence to the saying that every man on this earth serves a role.” Jack gave me a look. “ ‘Serves a roll?’ Are we in the restaurant business again?”

CowboysComedy HumorJust For FunOld WestTravestiesMark Warren
Book:The Westering Trail Travesties, Five Little Known Tales of the Old West That Probably Ought to A' Stayed That Way
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“Back at the oak the men lounged in the shade and finished up their meal. Watching Clayt down at the creek, Nestor threw out a quiet question for anyone who would listen. “How come Clayt don’t wear no spurs?” “Don’t need ’em,” Lou said. “You seen him ride. He can purty much control a horse with just his knees and neck-reinin’.” Nestor lay back and propped on both elbows. Lifting a leg, he turned one boot in profile and spun the rowel with the toe of his other boot. “Hell, I like the way it sounds when I walk.” Lou stood and brushed off his trousers. “He don’t need that neither.”

Literary FictionConfidence QuotesWyomingCowboysRanchers
Book:Indigo Heaven
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