#1 NYT bestselling author Linda Lael Miller
Beautiful Day in Spokane

Today, the draw is bathed in sunlight, and the sky is the same blue as the treasured periwinkle sugar bowl my mother gave me years ago–a premium from a bag of flour or a box of tea. That was back in the day when the prize in the bottom of a Cracker Jax box was something you really wanted–a plastic keychain, for instance.

The barn is beginning to look like–a barn! We’re taking pictures right along, and will post them on the website soon. The best day of all will be the homecoming–Buck, Coco, Skye and Banjo being unloaded from their trailer, introduced to their new home for the first time. They each have a wonderful stall, and there are almost ten acres to roam in. We left a few pine trees for shade and scratching against.

Although it’s only Wednesday, it feels like Friday to me. I guess because I was off yesterday for a routine medical procedure. I’m doing some tweaking and polishing on “Deadly Deceptions”, the next Mojo book (Jan 08) today, and clearing the decks to begin “The Rustler” on Monday. I plan to move to the lake to write that one, as I’ve probably already told you.

Have a lovely Wednesday. It’s always been one of my favorite days. (But, then, I’m pretty crazy about all the others, too–including the much-maligned Monday!)

In Memorium

I’m sad to report that my good friend Larry Webster lost his battle with cancer early Saturday morning. I want to thank all of you for your prayers during the first bout–he had some precious extra time with wife Vicki and sons, Kyle and Brent, and that was a profound blessing. It was inspiring to see the way his friends and extended family stepped up and helped to carry a great many physical and emotional burdens. I knew, but didn’t mention it on the blog, because there are few things more personal and private than the process of dying.

Larry was a talented country western singer and guitar player, a chiropractor, and a long-haul truck driver. He was funny and smart, and if there was a job to be done–any kind of job–he pushed up his sleeves and went to work. Once, with my cousin Steve, he spent three hours under my kitchen sink, repairing a pipe and installing a faucet. He and Vicki came all the way from Washington State to move my mother into her first apartment in Scottsdale, and helped enormously with the move from Arizona, too.

Larry was a true cowboy, the real deal, and that’s the highest compliment I can pay him.

He was a great Johnny Cash fan and sorry he never got to meet him. I’ll bet he’s met him now. They’re probably sitting around strumming guitars, singing “I Walk the Line.”

Larry certainly walked the line.

The Pony Express carried almost 35,000 pieces of mail over more than 650,000 miles during those nineteen months and lost only one mail sack.

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