John David Young

The memory is as clear as looking through glass, the smile on my father's face when he handed me the letter. "Congratulations," the letter read. "Your number was selected to serve in the military, selective service #128." Panic hit me. It was the height of the Viet Nam War and nine chances out of ten that is where I'd end up. My dad wanted to talk. "It ain't like you're committing suicide," he started. "Could turn out good for you," he continued. "You've got talents they will use." Then I realized he had no idea what was going on in the world. His war, World War II, was a just and complex war, with clear beginnings and ends. He had driven a wrecker and done truck maintenance and never fired a shot in anger for his whole five years. He did his duty as he was ordered and was thus rewarded. This war was different. I shuddered inside. I knew we were fighting for Oil and Money, not to mention National Military Pride. I had only one goal-to become a Rock and Roll star. I had graduated early. I played guitar well and was in various garage bands, but in reality, I wanted to be in the big time, a real rocking roller. I knew I had the audacity and determination to get there. Needless to say, this draft notice put a big hitch in my plans for Stardom. I felt my heart had fallen into my shoes. It looked like that was it. I had only nine days till my inevitable doom.

The first four stories of the book were originally Ebooks on KDP published by Outlaws Publishing. Now a paperback is made available with one additional story, published by EagleBear Press.Bear Itaxsca was his name. A Crow Indian displaced by the War Between the States. He was tall, six feet two inches, and had just been released from service with the Union Army. He served the War out as a scout and fighter, and now he was flung back into a world where he had no tribe, no money, no way of making a living except by bounty hunting. The world was harsh for a Native, and only the Spanish hat, straight brimmed and black, shaded his dark eyes from the rising sun. He was thrust into a system, enslaved by it, taught the White Man's way of fighting and used it. He was taught to read, write, and figure. He was smart and tough. As a boy living within his tribe, he was a strong boy with fire in his eyes, proud and stern. Because of his strength and spirit he inherited his grandfather's medicine and was honored by his people. As a man he had chosen to leave his family to fight against slavery. He remembered the day he joined to fight the White Man's war. He was twenty and Army soldiers came to the village seeking those who would join the fight against slavery. He became impassioned because he had seen the slavers and their cruel stealing of his Native brothers enslaved to work for them and to die under a whip. His mother, disturbed by his leaving the tribe, turned her back on him but his father honored his choice. His survival in the civil war was because of his training both as a Native and as an American soldier. His experiences as a bounty hunter showed his great desire for justice for all people. He was highly knowledgeable of guns, their use and upkeep. He wore two Colt 36 caliber pistols and a .44 Navy Colt, stuck in the purple sash he wore around his waist, a Henry 45-70 in his saddle sheath. His long knife, a fourteen-inch Bowie, was in its sheath strapped to his leg, hidden in the well-cared for Calvary boots, another gift from the army. Come follow this handsome and amazing Native man as he helps to establish order in the western move of the Americas.