The Hunt By Jim Palmer Jr.      The rhythmic muffled thump of horse hooves hitting the deep powdery dust of the mountain trail was interrupted by a contrasting metallic clatter when the path of the trail left the choking dust behind and began a segment of trail that was rocky a...

Old Things By Jim Palmer Jr.        With outstretched hands I reached longingly for the old rifle that hung on the slightly dusty gun rack on my wall.  Since my change to archery hunting, it had been awhile since I’d even looked there, let alone handled the tru...