Reseña del libro "Cowboys To Rust (en Inglés)"
A faint trail is all that remains of this epic West Texas story. Three generations are caught up in a battle. Fighting themselves, each other, and a curse brought back from the battlefields of France, during WWII. If they could only find redemption...A grandson complains to his grandfather, while out fishing on the ranch lands, that nothing ever happens in West Texas. It gives the old man pause to think back many decades and reflect on his tales of high adventure. After an absence of some 15 years, that same grandson is back in the area. Traveling down the trails of the ranch lands, he finds more adventure than he could have ever fathomed. Ahead, around the bend, at dusk, a seat will be saved for you at the campfire. An old man's riveting tale will be told. Secrets this land had long since hidden away, will come to life again.Includes the lyrics to 34 original songs. Excerpt: My grandson and I went out to the ranch lands today on a rare and happy occasion for me. We sat on the side of a tank, fishing, during a hot summer's day, partially shaded by an old Mesquite tree clinging to the washed out bank. He was restless and complained how the ranch was boring. 'Nothing happens out in West Texas and nothing exciting ever came from this area. Everyone here is boring, ' he bemoaned. I sat back and shook my head.That evening we circled around a campfire. Cooking some of the best ranch food that I could muster. Crickets chirped. Frogs sang. The night's sky filled with swirls of brilliant color. The setting was perfect. My mind filled with stories. I began to speak, 'from these very lands came heroes. Great men, larger than life. Men who tamed a savage land. Who conquered and vanquished foes. Who left their lives here to fight in distant wars and won, ' I paused. Way up in the atmosphere, a plane flew over, heading west, chasing the sun as it sank into the horizon. The sound of it's engines brought me back. Pointing up to the plane and the night's sky, 'did you know decades ago, my brother, your great uncle Callahan, flew in the 101st Airborne Division. They would be up there, 10,000 ft high, leaving contrails streaking across the starlit backdrop as they carried a belly full of bombs. Diving and turning, doing their best to avoid the concussive explosions and piercing shrapnel of anti-aircraft shells sent up from the Germans down below.''They'd be on missions to carpet bomb German manufacturing cities and leave wide swathes of land devastated and ablaze. Upon releasing their deadly cargo, the pilots would look out their cockpit windows down below and be taken aback by the grandiosity of the destruction they unleashed. The fires would paint the plane's interior an eerie evil orange glow.' 'With the cities ablaze in fire storms, my brother Callahan told me they'd wonder how anyone could survive such a fiery hell. They'd silently question what kind of person would set a city ablaze.' I'd momentarily pause and trailed off in my mind, looking deep into the fire. Snapping back to it, 'they didn't just bomb cities though, they saved my other brother and I when we were encircled, one Christmas in Bastogne, France by a superior numbered German division, dropping much needed supplies to help us make it through those frigid battles. Those were the days. Those were the days alright.''When you are older, I will tell you some stories. Tell you some stories indeed.' I drifted off again shaking my head. 'Grandpa!' he tugged on my shirt. I turned to look at my grandson, 'you are sitting on hallowed ground here, ' pointing down to the earth to make my point. Raising my arms up and looking around. I took a deep breath, 'more has gone on here than you could ever imagine.'I looked into his eyes, 'let me tell you of the days of high adventur
