I HAD HEARD ABOUT DUSTY Richards long before I met him. Family and friends knew him from radio broadcasts and writing presentations... and for his western novels, of course. My first impression of Dusty when I met him was that he was a blustery kind of guy—and he was, but for whatever reason, we got along straight away. Maybe it was because we both graduated from Arizona State, though years apart. Dusty sure liked to tell his stories—and there were plenty of them—and I sure liked to hear them.
We were at many author meetings together and I always enjoyed seeing Dusty and visiting with him. He was always working at these gatherings, with his laptop right in front of him, banging out another of his limitless supply of books. Oh, they needed editing all right, but he could turn out a western faster than you could believe—and successful ones, too. One of the greatest honors of my life was serving as an historical advisor and beta reader on a few of those stories, including one that would become the novel Zekial. Dusty was so appreciative of my help, he even named a character after me, a colorful trapper and frontiersman named “Whistling Dick” Hogan.
Dusty Richards was a blast of a guy and a heckuva western writer. His readers loved him and he loved them, answering every email, letter, or request. He was just that kind of guy. His loss is still deeply felt by his many fans and friends alike, and we won’t soon forget him. And we don’t have to—he saw to that, leaving a cupboard full of tales yet to be printed.
Thanks, Dusty, we’ll always remember you, pal.
—J.B. Hogan
Fayetteville, Arkansas
February 28, 2020