That's one great horse and the guy ain't bad, either.

I read a lot and I write a lot and I forget a lot.  That’s another way of saying I close most books, even those I enjoy, and pretty much forget them.

But once in a while … once in a great while … I read something that strikes so deeply that I know I can’t forget it even if I try.  I’m talking about a book I just finished that led inevitably to an ending that caught me completely by surprise, then a last paragraph that put the perfect conclusion to the story.

This book is not a romance, it’s a traditional western:  “The Valdez Horses” by Lee Hoffman. It’s an Ace paperback copyrighted in 1967 that cost $1.75 brand new.  It won the Spur Award for Best Western Novel and it deserved to win.

I’d read and liked other books by Lee Hoffman who, by the way, was a woman who also wrote in other genres.  For some reason I carried this book around for 15 or so years, reluctant to read it for unknown reasons.  Maybe I sensed it would be a more powerful experience that I was willing to handle. I don’t know why I picked it up a few days ago, opened it and started reading.

This is the story of a young ranch boy who leaves home to ramble around the west—“as many green kids wandering around the West in those days as there were beeves on the range.” Looking for a job to carry him through the winter, he worms his way onto the horse ranch of Chino Valdez, a half-breed with a magic touch for horses and the social skills of a barbarian.

It’s the kid who tells the story, the kid who can’t stop the inevitable advance of disaster. He learns much from Chino but teaches nothing, although he tries.  Chino is who he is and does what he must,
even if it breaks his own heart.

When I finished the book, I went back and read the beginning again and it was all there, the set up for what was to come.  The book is beautifully plotted with everything in its own inevitable place.
Unlike most women writers (please notice I said “most,” not all), this one knew how to write action scenes that were more than flying bullets or fists.

She did not fall into clichés, my least favorite being “and then all hell broke loose!” I’ve read that wretched phrase innumerable times and confess that in early days I wrote it once myself, to my everlasting shame.  For writers, this book is worth reading just to study good popular writing.

The development of the characters is equally fine.  The reader is not in Chino’s viewpoint at all, yet by his words and actions and through the kid’s reactions, Chino’s character is crystal clear in all its subtle nuances.

I learned to write action by reading Louis L’Amour but I could have learned it here.  I don’t remember the last time a book haunted me as this one has.  Perhaps I’ll hang onto it for another 15 years before I work up the courage to read it again, to feel it again, because I sure won’t forget it.

On a scale of 1-10, I’ll give it a 15.

I, too, like whiskers on kittens, and all that other stuff.  Most particular I like my two cats, Possum and Peaches.  Possum used to be all black without a speck of white.  Once spayed, however, the hair grew back white so she now has a white line on her belly.

Possum came to me already named.  Peaches, who is as white as Possum is black except for a grey streak atop her head, got her name from me.  For some reason, I was thinking about Peaches and Daddy.  You know about them?  In the mid 1920s, middle-aged millionaire Daddy met 15-yerar-old Peaches and they “fell in love.”  In that period of tabloid journalism, they quickly became headliners.  Their quick divorce created as much news as their marriage.

Of course, you can name cats anything you want because they don’t care and won’t come anyway, unless they just feel like it.  Call them Fido; it’s all the same. Kitty-Kitty seems to work best for me.

I only have two dogs, now that I’ve lost Spike, my independent little Maltese.  The Shih Tzu is named Shorty because he is.  The big 90 pound mutt is believed to be part Bouvier des Flandres so I named her Jackie o.

I also love my sewing machine.  It’s a Pfaff 2144, an embroidery machine.  I wish I had more time to sew as well as craft.  I’ve found that sitting at that sewing machine pretty much blots out everything else so it’s a tremendous stress reliever.  And at the end, I get something pretty—usually.

I love movies—old movies.  “Casablanca” and “Red River” are two of my all time favorites.No, I didn’t see them when they first came out.  I’m crazy about Mae West.  In fact, back in the days before recorders or even TV remotes, my husband and I set the alarm clock to get up at 2 a.m. to see a Mae West movie.

That’s dedication.

Can’t say I love much about TV these days.  I like soaps and have watched them since back in the days when you didn’t dare admit it.  In fact, a friend and I actually sold a story line to “As the World Turns,” a tale for another day.

Currently I watch “General Hospital,” which is getting on my nerves; “One Life to Live” ditto; and “The Young and the Restless.”  Unfortunately, I see the end of soaps looming and since I detest game shows and daytime talk my TV future looks dim.  I’m a big football fan but with the NFL millionaires fighting with the billionaires there may not be a season this year.

And of course, I read as well as write; not exactly a big surprise there.  I read all sorts of books except for vampires and paranormal, another boat missed.  When it comes to favorite writers I’m not getting into romance novels; too many friends to forget.  So for something completely different,  I pick William Goldman who wrote “The Princess Bride,” the funniest book I ever read.  He also wrote the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” which was also pretty great.

In my spare time, I tend to tilt at windmills.  I hate injustice and have dug many a hole for myself by standing up for some innocent victim of this or that.  I just can’t keep my mouth shut.

As my friend Rosy advised me, “Just don’t make anybody mad!”  Don’t know if I can do that but I’m trying.

Channeling my softer self, I remain, Betty Lee Duran.