Bly Books Media Kit

Married to writer, Janet Chester Bly, they’ve co-authored 18 books.
Resides in north-central Idaho at 4,200 ft. elev. in the ponderosa pines across from Winchester Lake State Park, on the Nez Perce Indian Reservation.
Raised 3 sons: Russell, Michael, & Aaron. The family now includes 3 wonderful daughters-in-law and three grandkids.
Third generation westerner, Steve spent his first 30 years working family ranches and farms in central California.
Hobbies: Collects and restores antique Winchesters; studies histories of Old West; and does construction on Broken Arrow Crossing, a false front western village next to his home.
Seldom seen without cowboy boots, hat, and jeans, even in the pulpit.
Recent books: Throw The Devil Off The Train, Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Creede of Old Montana, and The Land Tamers

ONE STEP OVER THE BORDER EXCERPT

     “Hap, you’re thirty-one years old and you refuse to date anyone without the name Juanita. It’s a full blown obsession.”
     The cool westward wind drifted over them, pregnant with heat to be birthed later in the morning. A distant rooster sounded startled to crow so late. Bacon grease congealed in a black skillet, parked in the dirt between them.
     “Laramie, I’m tryin’ harder this summer to understand than I ever have. I know one thing, this is my last season of searchin’. I got to give it my best shot. That’s the only way I’ll be able to walk away from it.”
     “If last night’s any indication, we won’t live another week. Sometimes it’s like walking the floor with an addict. I try to keep you upright and moving until this ‘drug’ works out of your system.”
     “I sorta figure that last night was progress.”
     “Progress?” Laramie waved his boot like a pointer stick. “You don’t have a clue whether she lives in the U.S. or Mexico, or whether it’s in Texas, New Mexico, or Colorado. She could have moved to Cody, Wyoming, by now. Think of that for irony.”
     “We checked out Cody ten years ago.”
     “You’ve got to narrow it down some, Hap. It’s like looking for some particular penguin in Antarctica. We’re going to find Juanitas all over, but how can we tell the right one? So far the only site we’ve crossed off the list was that run down cantina in Matamoros.”
Hap studied the tanned creases around Laramie’s eyes. He kept thinking of the old rodeo phrase, “it ain’t the years, boys . . . it’s the miles.” His voice lowered, “I eliminated some others last night. I was layin’ there in my aches and pains tryin’ to think it all through and it dawned on me. My Juanita is the kind of gal to make somethin’ of herself. We were lookin’ in the wrong place last night.”
     Laramie shook his boot out. Something dropped to the sand, dug a quick hole, and buried itself. “What was that?”
     “A beetle, I guess. Now, listen up. This is huge. I decided there will be no more searchin’ out cantinas, saloons or casinos. I’m just sure my Juanita’s teachin’ at a school, nursin’ at a hospital, or runnin’ the soup kitchen at the gospel mission. We need to be lookin’ on the good side of town. That’s the kind of woman she is.”
     Treeless brown prairie grass stretched north of them. Laramie gazed at the horizon as if expecting a fox to jump up. “The Rio Grande’s eighteen-hundred miles long. That’s not what I’d call narrow.”
     Hap stood up slow, unlocking his back as if it were a pair of vise grips. “We ought to go search a hospital. Maybe they’d rent us a cheap room for the night. That would do us the most good.”
     Laramie wiggled his toes, then shoved his foot in his boot. “Hap, I promised you I’d ride the river with you. And you know I keep every promise. But that doesn’t mean I comprehend all of this.”
     Hap scratched his unshaven chin. “Look, if it’s any consolation, I don’t understand me either. Sometimes this drive feels like a disease. But I aim to get cured. And the antidote is somewhere between here and the headwaters of the Rio Grande near Creede, Colorado. I guarantee, partner, this is the last summer you and me have to put up with this.”

STEPHEN BLY BOOK REVIEWS

About Paperback Writer . . . "In this fresh contribution to the CBA market, Bly, the prolific Christy Award winning author of series westerns, pens an amusing parody of the proverbial dime-store paperback novel . . . this book is a funny, enjoyable romp for CBA fiction readers." Publishers Weekly

"Once in awhile, you come across a novel that is truly different. Christy Award-winning author Bly (The Long Trail Home, 2002 Western category) has written a psychological thriller that is like nothing else in the Christian fiction genre . . . This engrossing roller-coaster read will appeal to male readers as well as anyone who has ever dares to dream larger than life." Library Journal

From The Bookwatch . . . "The Long Trail Home is a superbly crafted, deeply inspiring, thoroughly entertaining, highly recommended novel played out against the backdrop of the American frontier."

About Fool's Gold: "Bly provides a rip-roaring Western in the tradition of Louis L'Amour, filled with humorous characters and an abiding appreciation for the Lord's mysterious ways." Library Journal

"Bly does a lot of things right for lovers of the traditional western . . . (he) clearly knows the country he writes about: the difference between pinion pines and chaparral, what the weather will do, how horses tire. He knows about guns and seems to have thoroughly researched the behavior of Indian war parties. . . Luke Short and Frank Gruber come to mind. There ought to be some takers among both Christian and western readers." Booklist

About Miss Fontenot . . . "Bly's hallmark rollicking charm is very much in evidence in this adventurous tale of the Old West. Of special interest is the unusual portrayal of a highly independent yet deeply religious woman who knows her own mind and isn't afraid to express her thoughts and feelings." Library Journal

"Bly offers a kinder, gentler Western that should appeal to fans of Louis L'Amour." Library Journal

About his cowboy poetry . . . "Topics range from the sacred and local heroes to dancing in Deadwood and 'Suckersville, New Mexico.' Obviously, Bly doesn't take himself too seriously--a fine trait for any cowboy poet." Bunkhouse Reviews, The Western Horseman

READER COMMENTS . . .
THE HORSE DREAMS SERIES

Well written contemporary western fiction . . . Great life-lessons learned without being preachy.” G. Dueker, OR

“Pure entertainment for fans of 'Westerns'. . . started out with so much action it was hard to stop reading. The fun continued throughout the story at a steady pace. . . No sagging middle or useless scenes. I feel like I know the characters in the story as personal friends . . . The guy humor was a hoot as it SO fit the story. Casey Cree-Ryder is probably the most zany character I've had the pleasure of knowing. She was just too much fun.” Michelle Therese, AZ

“. . . fast-paced, engaging dialogue that often transforms the reader into another world. . . breathtakingly refreshing . . . One thing I can say is that you'll walk away with a few personal revelations of your own. Alyice Edrich, TheDabblingMum.com

“Stephen Bly is able to bring me to tears either with laughter or pathos. How he can write so believably about females amazes me . . . Made me want to revist the land of blue skys, wide open spaces and typical Western people, culture and terrain.” J. M. Ashby, TX

“I swear Stephen reached down into my heart to speak her thoughts and desires. A scene described by Stephen can crack even the stuffiest brow.........told so well that you wished you were the heroine riding off into that sunset with that cowboy!” CJ Hardin, OR

“The rich characterizations of Bly puts the reader firmly in the head of schoolmarm Dev Worrell as she tries to find out if you really can go home again . . . another good read from a talented writer.” Terry W. Burns, author, Mysterious Ways Series, River Oak

“I almost became uninterested in it because of stress in my life. My husband is in the hospsital for the 3rd time since Good Friday and we can’t do anything special except recall some beautiful memories. However, suddenly the humor in your book made it so funny that I had to share it with another librarian friend. You have such a unique way of including so many events, situations and conversations that I forget the impossible reality to finding they warm my heart. Are you as funny in life as with written words?” Margaret S.

“The only bad thing about this book, it seemed to run as fast as a Mustang. One minute I was in Chapter 1, the next I’m done. Ya gotta love Stephen Bly’s books.” Catherine N. WA

CREEDE OF OLD MONTANA
Stephen Bly
Copyright©2009

CHAPTER ONE

     No one knew how Avery John Creede got the scar on his face.
     No one except Avery and the one who did it. He never talked about it. Most who knew him figured the other person dead. Not the type of scar that makes you wince and turn your head, and never covered by a beard, it hung high on his cheek bone like a badge of honor.
     But a person had to stand up to Creede and look him in the eye to see the scar. For the past six weeks on the trail north from Shiprock, no one had been that close.
     July hot and August dry, the September heat that reflected off the brick wall left Avery with a stale feel, like a sweat drenched cotton shirt, long dried. He studied the wide river from the tiny, two-step balcony of his second-story room at the Grand Hotel. Although he could not see it now, he knew he was positioned under the arched 1881 stone façade high at the building’s peak. Like a pontiff overlooking an empty plaza, he surveyed the near deserted street below.
     A lady with a famine-thin waist and a bleached yellow dress spun a parasol over her shoulder as she sauntered past the cottonwoods toward the riverbank. Like bait skimming across a still mountain lake, Avery figured she trolled for some man to set the hook.
     His heavy boot heels nailed the polished oak flooring as he re-entered the cramped room past the brass bed posts to a white porcelain basin on a stand and a worn wooden side chair. He splashed tepid water on his shaved face, then glanced up at the mirror. The leather-tough forced smile and near empty brown eyes looked more like a Venetian mask than a retired cavalry veteran way past forty.
     His black, beaver-felt cowboy hat, still damp with sweat from the long ride, wafted the aroma of a wet goat. He shoved it down to his ears. With oft repeated precision, he strapped on his holster. He yanked out the Colt revolver, reset the cylinder on the empty chamber and shoved it back down.
     As if giving a lecture on gentlemanly attire, he rolled the sleeves on his dusty white shirt down, one direful fold at a time, then buttoned them. He never took his gaze off the dark brown eyes that stared back at him from the mirror. Shirt now fastened at the neck, he tugged the black silk tie around his collar. Rough calloused fingers completed the four-in-hand knot that he memorized as a child.
     Oppressive Montana air crowded the room, like a mountain cabin after six weeks of snow in January. Avery closed the door behind him as he entered the hall, but didn’t bother locking it. He wasn’t sure if that was out of foolishness or apathy. Yet, years of conflict led him down the empty stairs at a cautious pace, one hand on the slick oak rail, the other on the hard walnut grip of his .44 revolver.
     Wednesday died about 1 p.m. in Fort Benton, Montana Territory. Rsurrection wasn’t expected for another two hours. The clock above the lifeless stove in the lobby ticked out of habit, but the pendulum winced as if the effort wasn’t worth it’s full effort.
     Propped open with river rocks the size of cannonballs, the double front doors of the hotel invited a breeze that hadn’t arrived yet. A wide nosed man with an uneven black beard studied the solitaire spread on the clerk’s counter. He waved a seven of clubs at Avery.
     “You sure you ain’t never been to Purgatory?”
     “I think I’d remember if I had.” Avery didn’t look at the man as he ambled toward the door.
     “That’s in Colorado, you know.”
     “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Avery parked in the doorway and surveyed the wide street.
     “Maybe it was Butte . . . you ever been to Butte?”
     “Many times.”
     “I bet it was Butte. You shot that crooked Faro dealer at the Copper Slipper, right?”
     “Nope.”
     “He deserved killin’, if you ask me.”
     The late afternoon sun beaconed off the big window of the Chouteau County Bank as he stepped out into the empty street. The sound of the bank’s heavy door slam precipitated a chorus of barking dogs.
     Avery hesitated as if waiting for phantom traffic. He thought he saw shadows flicker in the narrow alley next to the bank.
     “Where you goin’?” the man shouted from the hotel.
     “Sailing,” Avery grumbled.
     Like a bit player in a melodrama, the man appeared in the doorway. “Sailin’? There ain’t enough water in the old Missouri this time of the year for a big canoe, much less a . . .”
     Avery’s glare chopped the tail off the man’s sentence.
     “Eh . . . I was jist askin’ cause you said three men would show up lookin’ for you and I wanted to know where to tell them to look.”
     “Tell ‘em to wait here.”
     “But if you don’t come back, where shall I tell them you went?”
     “Purgatory.”

PRESS RELEASE . . .

WINCHESTER WESTERN AUTHOR NEVER PINES FOR OLD WEST

     “We moved to Idaho to live closer to what America used to be, but I’d never want to go back to the Old West,” says Stephen Bly, award-winning western author who releases his 101st book, Creede of Old Montana, on October 1st.
     Bly loves black, boiled coffee like the best of the trail cowboys, doing research for his novels and collecting antique Winchesters from that time, but he enjoys living in the 21st Century.
     “In the Old West both winters and summers could be miserable. For those first trappers, miners and cowboys, many a winter day was spent just trying to survive.”
     Having an ample supply of firewood was a crucial concern of every pioneer, especially those out on the treeless prairies, Bly explains. The cold Arctic winds blew down through Alberta and blasted into the western U.S., freezing everything it touched.
     Summers could be as miserable.
     “There was often no wind movement. Bugs swarmed. Skin cracked. Crops blistered. Living down in the canyons was especially a challenge.”
     The weather…the rustic living conditions…the health concerns, Bly’s characters face all of this and more. The worst problems have nothing to do with nature. His newest hero, Avery John Creede (Creede of Old Montana), hankers for peace and quiet and a relaxing, cool breeze as he rides into Fort Benton, Montana, for a reunion with army pals. He discovers a running gunfight with a notorious outlaw and two women determined to distract him instead. One gal wants him dead.
     Stephen Bly lives in the tiny town of Winchester, Idaho (pop. 308), at 4,000 foot elevation, next to Winchester Lake State Park, on the Nez Perce Reservation.
     “Folks often ask me if I always wanted to grow up and write books about cowboys,” Bly says.      “Nope. Not me. I never wanted to be a writer. But I did grow up on a farm and wanting to be a cowboy. I had Roy Rogers PJs and curtains and a plastic statue of trigger on my dresser.”
     Bly’s home includes an Old West false-front town in the yard that he built himself that includes a schoolhouse, jail, newspaper office, blacksmith shop, café, gift shop, mercantile and two-story hotel.
     “Makes a great photo op for fans who come by to visit or a barbecue setting for friends and family,” says Bly.
     The Bly house also resides in a forest of second cut, 100-year-old Ponderosa pines. These trees have been the inspiration for the play on words phrase “Ponder Rosa” for his novel One Step      Over The Border and a cowboy poem or two. “There are hundreds in view from my window. Dozens in our yard. So, stare out the window long enough and all sorts of writing ideas come to mind.”
     Parts of the Old West remain, but with all the modern amenities. That suits Bly just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now Available: The Land Tamers

Released October 1, 2009
Creede of Old Montana
By Stephen Bly
Centerpoint Publishing/Thorndike Press
300 pages, hardback, $29.95
Can be ordered through any quality local bookstore, online bookstores, public libraries, or www.BlyBooks.com

To Be Released June 2010:
Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon

PRESS RELEASE . . .

PENCHANT FOR OLD WEST LEADS AUTHOR TO FORT BENTON

     Award winning western author of 101 books, Stephen Bly doesn’t like writing about a place he’s never been. That means loading his truck to cruise up and down most every road in the eleven western states. He’s spent much more time on unpaved roads than highways. In fact, asphalt and blacktop bore him. Interstates drone like a prison line because he sees nothing but the rig in front of him.
     A few years back Bly spent a couple weeks in the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area, west of Great Falls. He sat around a campfire one night with an old-time cowboy called Blue Moon. He told how the cowboys still change the life of a town when they arrive.
     “We ride to Augusta on the July 4th weekend,” Blue Moon said, “for the rodeo and celebrations. The stores board up the glass windows and doors. The sheriff tries to hire more deputies. For that long weekend, cowboys rule.”
     Not much different than Old West days.
     “Some say much has changed in a hundred plus years,” Bly notes. “But out West there are still unaltered lands, especially the rivers, mountains, sage and prairies. You can feel what the nineteenth century early settlers felt in your own bones. There is this bond with history.”
     That’s what he felt the first time he sauntered from the hotel in Fort Benton down to the Missouri River and stared into the slow moving water.
     “The Missouri River Breaks region of eastern Montana was a wild and remote part of the Old West. An easy place to get lost, either by accident or on purpose. It still is. The frontier’s still here. It just has a fresh coat of paint . . . in some places.”
     His newest release (October 2009), Creede of Old Montana, is set in Fort Benton, Montana, in the 1880s. The theme is about a lady or two who lingered too long and the hero’s longing for the right woman. Avery John Creede rides into Fort Benton for a reunion with old army pals. He discovers a running gunfight with a notorious outlaw and two women determined to distract him, each for her own reasons. Somebody asked him why his story takes place there instead of a larger city like Great Falls.
     Bly explains: “In the early 1880s there was nothing at Great Falls…except for the Falls themselves. And Lewis & Clark described them as a most beautiful sight. Surely my man Creede will ride down and take a look, with a lady, providing he can find one who isn’t trying to kill him.”
     Bly learned that Fort Benton was named after Senator Thomas Benton, father-in-law of John C. Fremont. The town, now country seat of Chouteau County, was originally a trading post and one of the oldest communities in Montana (est. 1850).
     Steamboats used to chug up the Missouri River with supplies for gold camps. Rapids prevented going any further. Now Fort Benton’s a quiet cattle and farm area . . .except when the cowboys come to town.
     With any luck, you can stay in the same hotel as Avery John Creede, with the high ceilings, plush furniture and glittering chandeliers. One of the balconies there plays a pivotal point in Creede’s relationship with one of the ladies. Three feet wide and two feet deep, it’s more for looks than practical use. While it’s on the second story, the lobby below has a 20 foot ceiling. Leaping off the balcony is not a good option.
     Bly debated the title. He wanted to call it “The Missouri Breaks Reunion Series.” “But only a few readers would know that the Missouri Breaks region is in eastern Montana along the Missouri River. Some might think this a Missouri story.” So he changed it to Creede of Old Montana.

Creede of Old Montana (hardback)
By Stephen Bly
Released October 2009, Center Point Publishing/Thorndike
Order through any local quality bookstore, online bookstore, public library, or www.BlyBooks.com

     Folks often ask me if I always wanted to grow up and write books about cowboys. Nope. Not me. I never wanted to be a writer. But I did grow up on a farm and wanting to be a cowboy. I had Roy Rogers PJs and curtains and a plastic statue of trigger on my dresser.
     However, as a lad, I only read a few western novels. My aunt and uncle had a box of dusty dime novels in a room next to their garage. I’d go to sleep reading them when I got a chance.
     Not much different than kids in the Old West. They had dime novels then too. Most were written by men who had never gone west. They invented many of the clichés and stereotypes that linger today. Think of them as old time supermarket tabloids and you get the picture.
     But what really caught my fancy was history. I liked the nonfiction accounts of life in the Old West. I learned to grab all the University of Oklahoma and University of Nebraska titles that I could find.
     After I married and started raising kids of my own, I read lots of western fiction. One birthday my mother gave me some Zane Grey stories. Then, I picked up novels by B. M. Bower, Owen Wister, Will James, Luke Short, Ernest Haycock, Elmer Kelton, Vardis Fisher and, of course, Louis L’Amour. Somewhere in the middle of the 63rd L’Amour book, the idea struck me . . . I can write one of these.
     By then, I had a dozen nonfiction books to my published credit, so I knew I could fill the pages. But I didn’t know if I could spin a tale people would want to read.
     One summer wife Janet and I and our youngest son camped in the Beartooth mountains, south of Red Lodge, Montana. I took along an old typewriter and wrote my first western novel, called The Land Tamers. Since I had no idea if I’d ever have the chance to write another, I tied to pack every scene I ever wanted to write in that one book. An editor commented that it moved about as fast as the movie, Raiders Of The Lost Ark. She meant it as a critique. I took it as a compliment.
     As it turned out, that was just one of many tales I was allowed to write. I haven’t run out of ideas yet.

Christy Award winning Stephen Bly’s newest release is Creede of Old Montana, available after October 1, 2009. Order through your local bookstore, favorite online book outlet, public library, or www.BlyBooks.com