Echo
The Intriguing Trails Series
By
Raechel Bailey Kolb
*~~~~~*
Echo
By Raechel Bailey Kolb
Copyright 2011 Raechel Bailey Kolb
Smashwords Edition
LICENSE NOTES
This ebook is protected by copyright law and is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be printed, copied, re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and didnot purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the copyright laws and hard work of this author.
*~~~~~*
EPIGRAPH
Hasten forth to the trail in joyful celebration.
Seek with passion all the treasures hidden in creation.
Raechel Bailey Kolb, Endurance Rider
*~~~~~*
DEDICATION
To Mom; your smile lit the world.
*~~~~~*
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. No character here-in is intended to represent an actual living person. The actual places mentioned are used as theatrical backdrops to this work of fiction and not represented as factual in relation to topography. In other words, don’t go looking for a lost mine in the Apache lands situated near Globe, Arizona. It’s not there … not there … not there.
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CREDITS
Thanks to those who have helped me develop this book, especially Robin, Eddy and Karl. Thanks also to D’Ann who pointed out a few glitches. Thanks also to Shay Fabro who offered hints on publishing with Smashwords.
*~~~~~*
Welcome to Echo.
I hope you enjoy this adventure. Please read the Introduction. It will offer you insights in understanding this novel. Thank you for your interest in Echo!
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 * ~~~ *FRIDAY’S VERDICT
Chapter 18* ~~~ * TURN FOR THE WORSE
Chapter 20* ~~~ * A ROCK AND A HARD SPOT
Chapter 21* ~~~ * WHEN THE SUN SETS
Chapter 22* ~~~ * SPIRITS SPEAK
Chapter 24* ~~~ * SILENT SOLDIERS
Chapter 25* ~~~ * THE SAND MAN
Chapter 26* ~~~ * MIRAGE OR MAGIC?
Chapter 27* ~~~ * SALVATION IS NEAR
Chapter 30* ~~~ * INTO THE LIGHT
Chapter 31* ~~~ * THE LAST LEG
Echo
The Intriguing Trails Series
*~~~~~*
IN THE BEGINNING
It’s not like everyone thinks – dying. It’s not the end.
I was Clara White Bird. When I died, everything became crystal clear to me. Revelations, you see. Adam, my husband, never expected to find a purpose once I was gone. And the dirt-bike guy; he had to be stopped.
Meddling in the physical world isn’t easy from the other side. There are limitations. No way to predict what a little tweak of the elements will do. Adam, bless his heart, tried to make sense of my message. Spirits shout the answers and mortals only think they hear echoes.
My understanding of the human condition multiplied ten-fold after I died. Flitting around like a bird, I saw our friend’s little girl, Jessica and her pal, Ian. I wish I’d known him while I was alive. Ah, life … we live all our years only seeing the world from one point of view. How many troubles would be avoided if we saw events from many perspectives? It was difficult to stay focused. But Ian deserved my attention.
When the boy got lost, everyone started searching. That is one thing people are good at; searching. Humans have searched for meaning, wealth, and love for eons. Not that they’re always successful. How many times have you looked for your keys? Now, a misplaced boy is a little more important, so when the search wasn’t going so well; I couldn’t just let fate decide. There was too much at stake. Pointing them in the right direction couldn’t hurt; could it?
Searching; it’s a way of life for some, a way of death for others. And when trails collide ….
UNVEILED
“You have to count to fifty, Ian! Don’t look!”
Anxiously, Jessica tossed a confirming glance at her best friend, and saw him leaning against his grandparents’ house, with his face buried in his arms. Since he wasn’t cheating, she scampered away. Her nine-year-old legs churned like windmill blades in a storm, as she raced toward the barn.
“You can hide, but you can’t win. One, two, three …” Ian’s voice held a hint of sarcasm.
The numbers drifted on the hot May air, following her across the gravel driveway. As long as Jessica could remember, ever since they were babies, she’d never beat Ian at anything. For once, she would win. This time, she had a plan. She licked her lips in anticipation of success. It’s risky. The shed is off limits. But he’ll never expect me to hide there.
The barn next to the corrals beckoned, but Jessica veered away as she approached the fence. She tossed a worried glance at his grandparents’ house. Nervous, she dashed around the corner of the forbidden shed.
Sometimes Jessica was tempted to peek inside, but she’d never confessed her curiosity about the little wooden building. Poppy and Rose were very strict about the shed. Ian lived with them ever since his mother died and his father moved away. Although Jessica was a daily visitor, she was always drawn away by Ian’s disinterest. He wasn’t as daring as she was.
Nobody else around. They’ll never know. I wonder what’s in here.
Shimmies crawled across her shoulders and her tummy did a squirrely dance. She held her breath, and tilted her head toward the corner, straining to hear the numbers. He must still be counting. Can’t be to fifty yet. She grasped the door handle, but her fingers slipped. With a hasty swipe of the sweaty hand on her shorts, she grabbed the latch again.
The rusty hinge let out a piglet squeal.
Wincing at the tattle-tale noise, she pulled again, hoping Ian wouldn’t hear.
The gap was just wide enough to see inside. Her nose wrinkled and she pinched it, to stop a sneeze.
Musty and dim, the windowless shed was almost empty. A pump hummed from the far corner. Two pipes stretched across the floor to a big metal tank. Jessica knew it supplied water from the well to the house. That was all, except for a tall, draped object near the door. It practically touched the overhead rafters.
Her heart was still whipping inside her chest as she stared at the strange shape. That’s big. Daddy would just barely be able to reach that high. Oh, this is a good hiding place.
With a look over her shoulder, she saw Ian racing toward the barn. Determined, Jessica squirmed and squeezed. Even sticking her tongue out to the side of her mouth didn’t help. To fit, she had to force the door open a couple inches further.
The hinges screeched like a flock of angry jay birds.
Shoot! That did it. He’s sure to hear.
The space was just wide enough for her to ease across the threshold. Peeking through the opening, she saw Ian charging toward her. Busted! She braced her feet, leaned back and jerked on the handle.
But Ian was on the other side, pulling. It was a tug-o-war.
Jessica held on with her tightest grip. He was ‘it’ until he touched her. Maybe she’d be able to dodge around the big drape. She might even escape outside and outrun him. If she could just get the door closed, it’d slow him down. Gritting her teeth, she strained and pulled until her shoulders hurt. But even though Ian was only a month older, he was much stronger. Her fingers were burning from the effort and her sweaty palms slipped.
The handle flew out of her grip.
“Jessica! We aren’t supposed to play in here!” he scolded as the hinges screamed louder than ever.
“Not fair! I bet you didn’t count to fifty!”
He reached for her, his hands outstretched and a triumphant grin on his face.
She dodged backward, but stumbled on one of the long metal pipes. Her heart jumped as she bumped against the drape. It folded around her, like a big blanket, yielding, soft … then her head slammed against the thing it covered. The draped object careened like a drunken giant.
“Look out!” Ian yelped as the enormous mass tottered and reeled. He lunged at her, pushing her away. The sheet snagged her leg and she lost her balance.
She was falling and every second seemed to stretch, deforming time into slow motion.
Whoosh! Air blasted across her as the object toppled and the sheet billowed out like a sail. It hit the floor, filling the shed with chinking, clattering, crashing, and thumping. The noise echoed through the tiny building and clouds of dust spiraled up into the air. Particles sparkled in the shaft of light cast through the open door.
She covered her ears and gasped, “Oh … No!”
Ian kept pushing until she was squeezed against the water tank, away from the fallen giant. The smooth metal drum was cool, and the moisture on the surface gave her chills. Or maybe the goose-bumps were because of the near miss. That thing would’ve hurt if it’d crunched her. Time-warp returned to normal as she rubbed her head where a goose-egg was swelling.
Ian was still against her, his silver belt buckle jabbing her belly. With a snicker, he licked his pinky and stuck it in her ear.
“Here’s a wet-willy for you,” he teased.
“Blah! What are you doing?” she snapped, shoving him. She hated that more than anything. It gave her the willies and she knew that he’d do even more disgusting things like lick her cheek or burp in her face. She blinked hard to keep tears back. If she cried, he’d be nice. But Jessica wasn’t about to cry over a little bump on the head.
“Move, Ian! Get off me! You’re hurting me. Get off! Get off or I’ll … I’ll …” She tried to think of what to do to make him move. “I’ll kiss you,” she threatened with a menacing glower. That should do it. He hates kissing. Smooching her lips out, she reached up and grabbed him around the neck. “Kissy … kissy.”
“Sor-eee!” He jerked away with a crooked smirk. “You’re it, told ya,” he mocked while his face turned red.
“Shut up.” Jessica’s mind buzzed. She had to distract him. He’d won again and she was frustrated and embarrassed that her plan didn’t work. Her attention settled on the huge mass covered by the sheet.
“Is it broken? Let me look. What is it?”
She squeezed past him and knelt to stare at the lumpy, weathered drape. Jessica tugged the heavy fabric, revealing broken glass. With a sorrowful glance at Ian, she pulled the cover away until the entire object was revealed. A lamp? It must be a lamp. WAS a lamp.
“Think it’s worth a ton of money? Is it your grandma’s? Why’s it out here?”
Gold metal and broken crystal sparkled from the yellow cloak. The twisted and mangled wreck crowded the shed. Huge! It must’ve been beautiful once. A sunbeam poured through the doorway, reflected the scattered chunks. Tiny rainbows colored the wooden floor and danced through the cloud of dust.
“Now what? Should we tell your Grandma Rose?”
How can I explain playing in here? Darn it! Her ears were clanging and her neck was searing hot. Quizzically, she touched one of the glistening shards.
A big droplet of blood appeared, slipped down her finger and fell on the dusty floorboards. For a few moments, she watched the blood ooze and trickle. Ruby drops splattered into the dust and muddled together. Finally, she stuck her pointer between her lips, surprised that the cut didn’t hurt. She pulled it out and stared, riveted by the razor-thin slice.
“It doesn’t even hurt.”
Ian was hovering next to her, gasping like he couldn’t catch his breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his cowboy boots, and his jeans … quivering. He must be nervous. Or scared?
“Did you ever get a cut that doesn’t hurt?”
Ian didn’t reply, so she twisted to look at him. He was staring; his blue eyes bulging round and the whites shining in the dimness. His face was ashen, really pale, framed by his wavy, dark hair. That only meant one thing; they were in big trouble. Why else would he be scared? He looked like he saw a ghost, and Ian wasn’t afraid of anything ever.
“What’s the matter?” she hissed, worried. “Ian? Are we gonna be in trouble? Did you know it was in here? Ian!”
He jerked her up and spun toward the door, dragging her as though she was nothing more than a plush toy.
She stumbled on the rough floor while he dragged her along. Clumsy!
Half pushing, half throwing, Ian vaulted her through the door.
Dazed by the New Mexico sun, she squinted. Her feet searched for even ground while her fat-baby boots scuffed into the gravel. Angrily, she turned on him and shouted, “Why are you acting so weird? What’s the matter? Ian Samuel Joseph, let me go. It’s your fault! You knocked me into it.”
“Shut up, Jessica Lynn Conner!” he growled, jerking away. “Just shut up and never tell anybody.”
The door shook while he leaned against it, his face still pale. But he didn’t stay there for long. Abruptly, he ran away, paused next to the corral and leaning on a rail, puked. His old pony limped closer and nuzzled his arm. But Ian pushed the little horse and held the fence as though he’d fall if he didn’t hang onto something. His knuckles were white and he gasped and choked, like a drowning victim.
Jessica wanted to look away. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never turn away from someone who was barfing. Her stomach flopped and squirmed. She had to swallow several times to keep the bitterness from bursting out of her own lips.
The gravel under her feet threatened to reach up and pull her down. It spun around and around. She closed her eyes to push the old memory away. But a vision of a big puddle of blood and his mother’s auburn curls danced inside of her eyelids. For a moment, Jessica wanted to go back inside and look at the broken lamp again. But her knees were too weak, and she was sure, anyway. It was the lamp.
*~~~~~*
And that is how it all began, after I died; one of many revelations. Watching from the other side has a clarity I never expected. From here, history is a map, easily understood. Every branch of every family is revealed. Much like reading “Genesis.” We are not, however “all knowing.” There are mysteries, though ignorance is not as rampant as what mortals suffer.
I’d known Jessica, that little scamp, since she was a babe. Her father is a dear friend of Adam’s. But Ian was a stranger to us. His mother, Alice had died seven years ago. I wondered why she didn’t return to offer comfort to her son. In my opinion, she should have afforded him a little compassion. But who am I to judge? As a newcomer to the spirit world, I had much to learn. I didn’t realize that visitations are not commonplace. Mortals are not prepared to be touched by angels.
Why Ian mattered to my soul was the next revelation. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me show you what happened ….
*~~~~~*
That night a thunderstorm rolled through the hills surrounding Silver City, New Mexico, filling the night sky with rain and lightening. Alone in his bedroom, nine-year-old Ian pulled the covers over his head and squeaked, “Grand-ma! Pop-py! It’s dark!”
Breathless, he fought the dread that consumed the air. Night was dark and Ian hated the dark. Sleep let him escape, but now he was awake. Awake in the dark, he could hardly breathe. He wondered if the thunder woke him or if his nightmare was back. He hadn’t had the nightmare for months.
But that afternoon while they were playing hide-n-seek, Jessica broke the lamp. Shuddering, he remembered how she squeezed through the doorway into the well-house. It was off-limits for the seven years Ian had lived with his grandparents. He’d never been in the wooden shed in the back yard. Ian never ventured where he didn’t belong.
The towering, golden shape in his dreams had haunted him ever since his mother died, when he was two. The image hovered over him like a demon. He never really knew what it was, the golden, star-burst shape. When he saw the giant lamp, in real life that afternoon; an object instead of a ghost, his horror came to life. Even though it was shattered and the crystal reflectors were only pieces, he’d recognized the golden wreck.
A roar echoed through the small, adobe house, and pounded the walls while the tree next to the window scratched to get inside. For a moment, he thought he saw his mother’s face peering at him through the window. He stared, sure it was a face. Pale, ghostly, swaying back and forth in the wind … Oh, it was just a broken branch of the Sycamore tree hanging there. Ian closed his eyes in relief, but then, the image of the lamp pushed into his closed eyes.
Ian wanted the specter of the lamp to disappear along with his terror and the awful nightmares. He grasped at fragments; trying to understand. The memory was so blurry. Even the dream was just a horrible sensation instead of a clear vision. Worst of all, it was dark. Dark pulled the air out of the room.
“Grandma!” His throat strained to push the word past his clenched jaw. How was she going to hear him if he couldn’t even talk, much less yell? He drew a big breath and tried again.
“Poppy! Grandma!” That was better. At least the air he pushed out carried sound that time. He looked for the night-light; the beacon that usually lit the hallway, just outside of his bedroom door. Straining his eyes, he could barely see the doorway and the mirror above his dresser.
His eyes weren’t blue anymore. They had to be red from all the blood behind them. He thought his heart was going to explode right through his eyeballs, shoot across the room and hit the mirror … if someone didn’t come and help.
Another bolt ripped a hole in the darkness. Crrracck!
Ian flinched and jolted upright to listen for footsteps in the hallway.
“Poppy? Grandma? Where are you? Is anyone there?” His voice was finally working. They had to hear that!
Eerie jags filled the window and thunder assaulted his ears.
“I’m right here, Ian. Goodness that was close!”
His Grandma Rose appeared suddenly, a colorless shape in the doorway. Her hair shimmered like a halo around her head. “Everything is just fine. Did the thunder wake you?”
“It’s dark! Why is there night? The sun should stay up! It shouldn’t go down!”
“It’s alright, son. The power went out. That’s all. It isn’t that dark. Look, you can see your dresser and the window.” She sat next to him and patted his shoulder.
Ian drew a long shuddering breath while his grandmother pulled a small flashlight from the bedside drawer.
“Here’s your light.”
Ian’s ears tingled. He could’ve gotten the flashlight, if he hadn’t been too scared to think. But it was such a comfort, hearing her voice and seeing her.
She smoothed the hair at his temples with such tenderness; tears stung his eyes.
That didn’t help. Tears made everything blurry. Aggravated, he swiped his pajama sleeve across his face. When he sniffed, he caught a hint of her soft, rosy perfume. He drew a long whiff of it and his fear melted away.
“Can’t you stay here? Please Grandma. Just stay until the power comes on again.”
If she’d stay, he’d tell her about the lamp. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so bad. Keeping secrets wasn’t right. Besides, it wasn’t so dark when she was close.
“You don’t need me to stay with you. You have your flashlight. Now get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Remember where Donna’s taking you?”
“Arizona! To the Gold ‘n’ Horseshoe Endurance Ride! That’s over by Globe, where Uncle Mike used to live before Jessica was born. No school tomorrow! I’m going to a ride!”
Mike wasn’t really his uncle. But they were just like family after Ian’s sister, Donna, married Mike’s cousin.
“That’s right. It’s a long drive and you’re leaving at six-thirty.”
“Did Donna tell you, Grandma? She found a horse for me to try. A bay mare! Her name is Ketchum. If it works out, I’ll have a real horse!” Excited, he squirmed in his bed. This was the third horse Donna had found for him to try. Maybe three would be the magic number. A grin stretched the corners of his lips up. A horse of his own was his good dream!
“I heard about that. So you need to go to sleep.” Her head bobbed up and down and drawing her hand away, she stood.
“Wait, Grandma. You don’t have to go back to Poppy. He’s a man! He doesn’t need you. Stay here. Please?”
She paused in the doorway, while he shone the light in her smiling face. The yellow beam changed her white hair to gold.
“Go back to sleep. The storm won’t last for long. Morning will be here before you know it!” She shuffled away, her footsteps fading into the darkness.
Ian hunkered down, under the sheet, staring at the circle of light on the fabric above his head. He wouldn’t suffocate now. The flashlight was enough to hold the air in his room. While he studied the cotton threads, he listened to the wind. Maybe it blew because night sucked the air away and more had to fill the vacant space that was left.
He wanted to sleep until the sun chased the dark away. But, even though he closed his eyes, his mind kept playing ping-pong. Would the horse work out? Would the owner let him ride? What if the horse wasn’t any good? She might not be any better than the other horses Donna found for him to try. With a sigh, Ian decided that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. After all, who would sell a perfect horse?
*~~~~~*
Well, how about that! Ian was going to Arizona. I thought with a little luck, he’d meet Adam. Luck; is there such a thing?
CHAPTER 2
FRIDAY’S VERDICT
As planned, Ian and his big sister, Donna, arrived at the Gold ‘n Horseshoe Endurance Ride late Friday morning. The drive from Silver City to Globe, Arizona had taken several hours, so Ian was eager to get out of the truck. As soon as they arrived, he helped Donna unload her big horse from her trailer. Then, filled with hope, he followed Donna from rig to rig. He wondered if she really knew Kayla, the woman who had the horse for sale.
“Kayla said she’d be driving a white truck and pulling a white three-horse trailer with living quarters,” Donna explained as she surveyed the base camp where a dozen rigs were scattered about.
Ian turned in a slow circle and counted the rigs with white trucks and white trailers. Twelve. There was only one truck that wasn’t white.
“There she is!” Donna exclaimed suddenly. “Hi Kayla!”
His sister waved at a tall blonde woman, so Ian scurried to meet the wiry, bay tied to the lady’s trailer next to a gray gelding and a big, sorrel mare.
Ian settled his eyes on the bay. He was sure this was the horse. It was the only bay tied to the trailer.
Kayla greeted Donna with a friendly handshake, pointed at the little bay and said, “That’s Ketchum. She’s the one I’m selling. I’ve got her papers in the truck. Her sire was a Regional Champion Stallion and …”
The words followed the women as they left Ian next to the horse.
Disinterested in the sire or dam, Ian focused on the mare. He always thought it was stupid to get excited about blood-lines. The only thing that mattered was the lovely little mare in front of him. Hopefully, he waited for her to look his way.
Finally, she flicked an ear at him and swung her pretty head around.
He held out his hand in greeting.
“Hi Ketchum. That’s a funny name for a horse. Who named you that?”
He stepped closer until he could touch her. Stroking her cheek, he gazed into the brown eyes, past the iris. When the mare’s dark eyes met his, Ian saw more than he’d ever seen in human eyes. Honesty. Kindness. He fell into the liquid pools and drew a sharp breath, feeling as though he was drowning.
Ketchum rumbled a soft greeting. She pressed her nostril against his neck, and her silky muzzle tickled his cheek.
His legs wobbled and his heart swelled inside of his chest. He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his nose into her mane. Drawing a long breath only left him reeling. Overwhelmed, he dropped to his knees in front of her.
She lowered her head and nuzzled his shoulder.
That did it. He had to have this horse. He had to convince Donna to buy her.
“Look at this Donna!” Ian called while the women were talking to each other. He scrambled on hands and knees under the mare and stood up on the other side.
“Yikes! Be careful! You don’t know that horse!” Donna wagged her finger and scolded, “Quit messing around and come over here so we can plan the ride with Kayla.”
“I want to ride her tomorrow,” he called.
“We’ll talk about it.” She walked with Kayla across the lot toward a water trough, buckets in hand.
Ian stood back and studied the horse. Glad that nobody knew how hard his heart was pounding, he drew another, deep, calming breath. Better make sure that the mare was standing on four legs. He’d be really embarrassed if she had some horrible damage to a hoof. After-all, as Poppy always said, “No hoof, no horse.”
With a swish of her black tail, Ketchum discouraged a fly buzzing around her copper-colored flank. She shifted her weight to rest a rear leg while Ian slid his hand the length of her side. Flat, well-developed muscles rippled with each move. Small and slight, but that was okay. She was big enough for Ian.
Relieved that Ketchum wasn’t an obvious cripple, Ian petted her. Then a voice spoke at his shoulder.
“Are you riding tomorrow? That’s my mom’s horse. Are you gonna buy Ketchum?”
Ian spun around in surprise. Standing next to the trailer was a blonde boy about his size. Worriedly, Ian responded, “I want to ride. Are you gonna ride?”
“Yeah, I’m riding Moki.” The boy pointed at the gray gelding. “I’m Luke.”
“I’m Ian. Hey, if your mom will let me ride Ketchum, we can ride together.”
“Have you ever done an endurance ride? Fifty miles is a long way for a kid to ride. Heck, it’s a long way for anyone to ride.”
“I ride a lot. I’m not worried. Besides, the horse does all the work. It isn’t hard to just ride. It isn’t like I’ll be running the whole way. If the horse can do it, I can do it.” The words spilled out so fast that Ian wanted slap his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he could ride that far. But he wasn’t going to let Luke know of his qualms. Jutting his chin up proudly, Ian stated matter-of-factly, “I ride my pony at least that far when I’m just practicing.”
Luke narrowed his eyes a little, giving him a very skeptical expression. “I don’t know. Ketchum’s pretty fast. She scares me.”
“Is she trained to stop? I can ride as fast as any horse can run. But I like having brakes. It’s always good if they stop when you want them to.”
“She stops. If you ride, just remember that she’s really fast and really quick. I fell off a couple times and I don’t like riding her. I don’t know if Mom will let you. She wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Luke nodded but twisted his mouth sideways and his brow furrowed like he was worried. “I don’t think she’s really a kid’s horse. Mom thought she’d be better for a small lady.”
“I’m not worried. I know how to ride.” Determined to prove his point, Ian grabbed the mare’s mane and taking one big step, heaved himself up. He lit on Ketchum’s back and said, “Untie her and give me the rope.”
“No way! I’ll get in trouble.”
“Nobody will know you helped. Just give me the lead rope.” Ian glanced over his shoulder and saw that Donna and Kayla were making their way back with the water buckets. “Hurry up.”
Luke jerked the end of the rope, releasing the knot. He flipped the lead to Ian and stepped back. “Be careful,” he warned. “She’s quick.”
Astride the mare, Ian looked down at Luke. Ketchum was so much taller than his pony; Ian thought he could touch the thin clouds overhead. Excitement raced through his stomach like a hot-wheels car. He pulled lightly on the lead rope and nudged the brown side with his heel.
The mare wheeled around and burst away from the trailer.
Surprised, he grabbed a handful of mane and hung on while Ketchum stretched out, trotting across the lot straight toward Donna and Kayla. Without reins, Ian couldn’t turn her. At the mare’s mercy, Ian relaxed into the bumpy stride, letting his back absorb the shock of each step.
Her slim legs shot out in front of her. In seconds, the mare was flying across the sand, loose and breezy. As she picked up speed, her back stiffened and suddenly, Ian felt as though he was skimming across ice. Smooth, gliding strides swept them along.
Donna and Kayla dropped their buckets and ran interception, their arms spread wide, calling, “Whoa! Whoa! Easy!”
Ian pulled back on the lead and Ketchum halted in front of them. “She’s perfect! Please, let me ride her tomorrow! I really love her!”
The women looked at each other.
“Sorry, Kayla,” Donna said. “I didn’t expect him to turn into a rustler.” Her face turned red and she gestured to Ian, “Get off that horse!” she snapped. “You know better than to help yourself! You get permission first!”
Ian’s stomach did a nervous flip as he tried to think of a response. He hadn’t expected Donna to be angry. He hadn’t even given a thought that riding the horse was wrong. But it was wrong. Very wrong. Embarrassed, he twisted his fingers into Ketchum’s mane.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
Before Ian could say more, Luke hurried to his mother’s side.
“I, uh, yeah, Mom. I thought it would be okay. He said he knew how to ride.” Luke scuffed his toe into the sand. His cheeks darkened as he stared evenly at Ian. “I don’t want to get in trouble for it,” he muttered.
Kayla raised her eyebrows and looked from Ian to Luke and back again.
At least she didn’t look angry. Ian worried that if she was angry, she wouldn’t let him ride. He squirmed; trying to think of something to say or do that would make things better. Time stretched while he sat on the mare’s back. And he wondered if she was going to call the police and have him arrested. He might even get hanged for being a horse thief. That was the worst crime in the whole world.
“Okay, Ian,” she said, with a shrug. “No harm done. It looks like you can manage her. Do you have a saddle?”
“I bought him a saddle for his pony last year. It should fit that mare. She’s not very big.” Donna’s voice sounded doubtful.
“She’s big enough for me!” Ian insisted as he tossed Luke a thankful glance. Relief filled him like a giant breath of air after staying under water for too long. He felt a surge of determination fill him. Luke was on his side. He’d found an unexpected friend and the perfect horse.
“Let me ride her tomorrow, Donna, please.”
Donna tilted her head from side to side, and took a slow walk around the horse while Ian clenched the lead-rope. Finally, when she returned to the front, her auburn hair floated up and down across her shoulders as she nodded.
“Okay. We’ll see how she does. Take her back and tie her.”
“Awesome!” he cried. “I get to ride Ketchum in the Gold ’n Horseshoe! Fifty miles here we come!” He swung his leg over the withers and slid down, landing in the soft sand next to the mare’s shoulder.
Luke wandered closer and muttered, “Yeah … fifty miles, Ian! Fifty miles isn’t a cake-walk. You never know what might happen.”
*~~~~~*
Young Luke was wise for his age. Ian was a fine horseman! It must be in his blood. And what a lovely young woman Donna was! I wanted to stay and watch the boys, but Adam’s heart was calling me. Even now, I wish I could be in two places at once. But even angels and spirits must obey the law of cohesion. Love is a powerful, unrelenting force and I was unprepared for the pull it exerted on my after-life soul. The force equals that of a black-hole. Believe me, there was no resisting that energy.
*~~~~~*
Adam hesitated as he crested a steep hill and drew long breaths into his aged lungs. To the west, a city of horse trailers crowded a wide, sandy wash not far from Globe, Arizona. They looked like miniature toys from where he stood, a few miles away. Squinting, he estimated that at least a dozen rigs were parked there. For a brief moment, he speculated what event brought so many trailers to the wash. It didn’t matter, really. Nothing mattered.
Numbly, he settled on a boulder, removed his hat and wiped his wrinkled brow. It was a long climb to this spot.
The sun beat on his head, while he caught air into his weary lungs. Before the sun could bake his brain, he replaced his hat and rose to his feet. For a moment, he stood, undecided. But mournfully, he pressed on, climbing through the steep terrain, until he arrived at a fragile dam. Before him, the brilliant sun bathed in the glistening pool. When he started his walk, early morning shadows languished across the rocks. As he loitered, the shadows were ducking under the cacti.
Adam stepped closer to a giant saguaro to exploit all of the shade it was hoarding. With it guarding his back from the sun’s daggers, he peered down at the weir and wondered if the dam would support his weight. Crossing it would shorten his journey home. Though he could turn around, he didn’t want to. He’d already left the housekeeper for three hours. If he didn’t return soon, she’d probably call search and rescue.
Every Friday the housekeeper, Marie, sent Adam out.
“Take a walk, Adam. I’ll visit with Clara while I work. We’ll have a girl’s day,” Marie would say.
For an hour or two each Friday, Adam would leave his wife, Clara with Marie. It was the only time he would leave Clara’s side, when Marie came to clean the house, every Friday.
But this Friday was different. Clara was gone. She’d passed away.
So Marie, with huge tears sliding down her cheeks, had simply hugged him and pointed at the door.
Adam had rushed out to the shining desert. Recklessly, he’d taken a turn on a trail he’d not walked for many years. The last time he’d come this way, long ago, he had crossed the dam. But this time, he paused and stared at the huge pool, wondering if the dam would hold.
Hollow skeletons of cholla jammed against the top, created a leaky crown. The adobe that once coated the logs had fallen away over the years and settled in the boulders far below. Baked to a crisp, the logs on the outer side were gray and fragile while the wet side looked slimy and rotten. Down in the clear, dark water, Adam saw that the bottom logs had decayed over the ages. Not much was left. In a few spots, seeps had formed and moss had taken hold on the outer edges. Tiny white butterflies gathered near the moisture.
Butterflies. Clara had loved them. She had called them God’s confetti.
Sadly, Adam watched them flit about for a moment, before turning his attention again to the path ahead. If the dam broke, he would perish. Of that, he was certain. He would drown or be crushed by the weight of the rushing water. His life would end painfully.
He considered the possibility. Being crushed by a flood would be less painful than watching Clara fade away. She’d fought for a year, never losing hope or courage. After sharing his life with her, Adam had tended Clara’s every need while her body faltered. In their last hours together, she told him what she was seeing as her mind drifted.
Most her ramblings made no sense to Adam.
“The sun has blue eyes.” Surprise had filled her voice.
“Blue eyes?” Adam still wondered what she meant. If the dirt-bike hadn’t gone by then, maybe she would have explained. But the interruption agitated her. The rider bothered them too many times for her to ignore the sound.
“I’ll stop him,” she’d said. But she didn’t move. She didn’t even open her eyes. Her grip was waning, and a tiny smile played about her lips. Even her dark complexion couldn’t disguise the ghastly hue that crept stealthily across her face.
Adam looked through the window, hoping that the malevolent rider would pass through; not stop to harass them again. The biker passed by with a girl on the back of his bike. Different girl every time. Adam thought that those girls all had poor taste in men.
He returned his attention to Clara when she clutched his hand.
“Stones and sabers,” she breathed, “light ….”
“Saviors?” he asked. Did she say sabers?
Her hazel eyes opened wide and she smiled warmly at him. “I love … love … you.”
That was the end.
Adam had wept for hours, begging her to stay. But there was no reply, only the menacing buzz of the returning dirt-bike as it flashed past their driveway. It was a sound he vowed to remember to the end of his life. It represented death and destruction of all that he cherished.
The next day was empty and quiet. It was so quiet, that Adam almost wished the dirt-bike rider would come by, just as a target for his anguish. But the rider stayed away, leaving Adam to wrestle with his loss in silence. And this morning, he’d left the housekeeper to her work and sought refuge in the desert where he’d spent many happy hours with his beloved Clara. His thoughtless legs had led him to this dam.
Sorrowfully, Adam eyed an approaching coyote.
Without hesitation, the animal padded on to the jumble of cacti skeletons holding back the lake. His paw slipped and he scrambled like the water was full of monsters. A thin branch snapped under his weight and the dam growled.
Clenching his stomach, Adam watched. The frail dam, bulging from the pressure behind it, might burst. He gripped his walking-staff until his knuckles ached.
“Careful, Little Brother, it’s my way home, too.” Adam pointed at the saguaro. “The soldiers of the desert cannot help you. They only stand guard.” He held his breath, watching the delicate balancing act unfold.
Dislodging another branch along the way, the animal danced to dry ground. It dashed to a Palo Verde, settled in the trifling shade and stared with wide, amber eyes.
Adam wiped his brow and let his breath escape. Squatting, he looked into the shining pool, and contemplated his wrinkled face and hoary braids. The staff, he let drop to the rocks at his feet.
“I’m glad you didn’t break the dam. But it’s a fine day and a longer walk won’t matter, I suppose.”
Not far away, a long-eared hare stood up on its hind legs, with its nostrils flared. Without a sound, the coyote slipped behind a mature agave, obviously intent on a hunt.
Adam waited for the stalk and pounce he knew was pending. A thin smile crept across his lips as the hare scampered away and the foiled coyote sulked into deep shadow.
“You’ve been granted another day,” he said to the rabbit.
Adam wondered how many days he would be granted. He tilted his face to the sun, letting the glow paint the inside of his eyelids cherry red. When he opened his eyes, he studied a flash from above.
Blinking, he put his hand up to block the brightness, remembering. It was so long ago. He learned the code and the written English language when he was a very young man. Before the changes that turned the desert into a city, before telephones and radios, they used mirrors to signal.
Alabaster wings of the dove flicked, like a Morse code.
“N-O-T-D-U-N … humph.” He still had an obligation to his wife. On the night of the full moon, in just a few days, he would set her free and let her spirit dance among the canyons. It was her wish. Adam and Clara practiced many of the traditions of his culture through their long partnership. But this was Clara’s idea; scattering ashes. And when she begged him to grant her final wish, he decided it was the least he could do. She was finished with her shell. Now, he was sure that her spirit was hovering nearby.
He studied the fragile, old structure that held back the lake. Risky, to cross it. His heart beat with excitement. Go ahead, old man! Take a chance! If you fail, Clara waits in the next life.
But he hesitated. What if it breaks? What if I die? If I die, who would set her spirit free? Does it matter? Perhaps her spirit already joined the army of spirits fighting against evil. Maybe that is what she was saying. Perhaps a better purpose is served after death.
His attention drifted to the coyote. Was it sent to show him that the dam was safe? Was he as brave as a coyote? They were skittish animals, not known for their courage. Old fables claimed they carried mischievous spirits. Brother to the Raven, cousin of the Wolf; the Coyote was surrounded by legends. Some people thought they were foolish. Adam thought they were cunning. Surely a wise Apache elder was at least that brave, or proud … or foolish.
He pressed forward.
Placing his foot gingerly, and using his staff for balance, Adam stepped on a damp log. His moccasin slipped and he hesitated before he took his other foot off the firm earth. But the dam was calling his name. The water slapped and gurgled, whispering, “Trust, trust, trust.”
He listened. The tenor had changed. Now the gurgles were anguished. The words echoed through his mind. Clara’s voice.
“No … no … no.” Or maybe it was, “Go … go … go.”
He steadied himself and swallowed hard. Fear. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. It bubbled up from the depths of his soul and filled his body. Awake, alive, tingling. All the sounds of the desert amplified as he took another tentative step.
Even the rocks keened encouragement and nothing was still as he strained to focus on his balance. Each step brought another level of excitement. His heart drum-rolled inside of his chest and sweat tickled his neck. Shivers ran up his spine and settled on his skin. Careful Adam. Careful.
He reached the middle of the dam, paused and drew air between his clenched teeth. When he was mid-way through his life these types of adventures were no adventure at all. Where does time go? Is it stored away inside of the old? Is that why aging is so difficult? Storing time is hard for the soul? One side of his mouth lifted in an intuitive smile as he looked down on his reflection.
Always reflecting. With a lighter step, he went on. Life called. He still had one purpose. The other side was glistening with white quartz. Beckoning to him, blazing and brilliant, it reached out in welcome. Adam stepped on the solid earth and looked back at the path he’d taken; such a short distance.
He studied the dam, with brow furrowed. A new crack seeped, producing a dark stain near the center. Adam wondered how long it would be before the dam would break. A day? A week? The next storm? But with an uneasy shrug of his shoulders, he turned away. Who can know the future? If it broke, the water would drain to the Salt River. No harm would be done except the loss of a long-lived reservoir. Nothing lasts forever. Perhaps the time had come for the end.
The dam wept, oozing its life through the adobe crusted logs while the dove’s lament followed Adam home.
*~~~~~*
Well, he didn’t listen! He was supposed to turn around. It was all I could do to bolster that dam. It needed more than a band-aid and a prayer. But I couldn’t stay there and hold it forever! Adam was leaving and I wasn’t sure if he was in his right mind. If he had taken a path of self-destruction, his soul would be lost to me forever. I couldn’t let that happen!
So, I patched the dam and hoped that the flood wouldn’t cause any harm when it broke. I knew it wouldn’t hold for long. Maybe a day or so. But I had to keep an eye on Adam. He had more to live for than scattering my ashes. I just had to contrive a way to tell him.
CHAPTER 3
A TRAIL
Before dawn the next morning, the Gold N’ Horseshoe Ride started. Fifty miles of mysterious desert terrain lay ahead. It felt like Christmas Eve to Ian. The unknown trail ahead was tied with pink ribbons. The sand, soft and glistening, reminded him of snow. He tried to contain his excitement so he wouldn’t upset the horses. But shivers were running up his spine as he guided Ketchum along the trail.
Ian glanced over his shoulder at Donna and Kayla, bringing up the rear. Everyone else was already out of sight, so he was leading the way. At least he was leading his group. He paid close attention to the markers. Didn’t want to take a wrong turn!
The pink surveyor-ribbons waved from thorny mesquite branches, marking the trail up a long wash, deep with golden sand.
Ian was so pleased to have a pal to ride with; a boy at that! If things worked out, Donna would buy Ketchum and he’d have a new friend, too. Ian thought Luke was the smartest kid he’d ever met. They’d had fun last night during the ride meeting, playing tag. He drew a sharp breath, thinking about Jessica, wishing she’d been able to come along. Once, she’d told him about riding through the desert. It was around Globe and she bragged for hours about racing her steed through the sand and cacti. Jessica always bragged about racing her steed. Ian shook his head and chuckled as he thought about her. She was going to be so jealous!
Ian couldn’t wait to brag about Ketchum and the Gold-n-Horseshoe Endurance Ride and Luke. Luke didn’t ride as fast as Jessica, but then, nobody rode as fast as Jessica.
Slowing, Ian waited for Luke to catch up and pointed to the distant indigo mountains, bristling with cacti and blossoming Palo Verde trees, towering against the silver sky.
“Look at the yucca tops! They look like spears. Later we can use them to joust. We can make some swords and ride like,” pausing; he winced before he said weakly, “like knights.”
“Sure, I’ll be Lance-a-Luke and you can be Prince Verde!”
“I’ll be the white knight,” Ian remarked, wondering why the jousters of the middle ages were called ‘knights’. Of all things! Couldn’t they have been called something; anything else? Perturbed, he broached the subject to Luke. “Why do you think they were called ‘knights’?”
“King Arthur was afraid of the dark,” Luke said with a shrug. “I bet he wanted someone to protect him and so he named them ‘knights’.”
“Think so? What a sissy.”
“He was just a kid, you know. I was scared of the dark until I was about six or maybe seven. But I’ll be nine in June and I’m not scared anymore. But I don’t like lightening. Some people are scared of thunder, but it’s just sound. Lightning can be dangerous.”
Ian drew a deep breath before he admitted, “I don’t like the dark. But thunder doesn’t bother me.”
Luke cast a surprised look his way.
Ian explained, “You can’t see in the dark. You don’t know what’ll happen. So I get kinda nervous.” His neck was getting hot and he tossed a quick look at his buddy, worried. What if Luke thought he was a sissy?
“You’re right. It can be impossible to see in the dark. I toured a cave once and they turned the lights off. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face! Imagine trying to find the way out! Imagine being blind!”
“I never thought about that! It’s always dark for someone who’s blind.” He felt a surge of relief. At least he could see in the light. In silence, Ian considered the idea as they trotted along, through the sandy arroyo.
Ian never imagined he’d have enough sunshine. But Arizona was drenched in light, burnt and crispy looking. Bright and glaring, the sand was almost painful to look at. It reflected the sun; brilliant, shimmering. When they passed by the tall saguaro, the shadows, dark and cool, looked more appealing than the bright sunlight. The mesquite and Palo Verde didn’t offer much shade with their skimpy, lacy leaves. But the patterns they made in the sand were delicate and reminded Ian of snowflakes; giant, desert snowflakes.
He almost wished that clouds would cover the sun and give them some shade. Almost … he didn’t really want clouds, because they might bring rain and a thunderstorm. Then there’d be lightning and Luke didn’t like lightning.
When boredom set in, Ian challenged Luke to a game of follow-the-leader.
“I don’t like trotting,” Luke complained flopping around in the saddle. “It hurts and it’s too much work and there isn’t enough padding on my seat!”
Ian slowed and said, “You need to quit riding like a duck.”
“A duck?”
“Your feet stick out like a duck. Turn your toes in like a pigeon. Now quit flapping your wings. Keep your elbows steady like a falcon. You want to soar so you don’t get sore.”
Luke shot a smile at him. “Hey, you’re right! This helps.” He wasn’t riding exactly right, but better.
Warm inside, Ian eased Ketchum back to ride next to his sister and her big silvery-paint gelding. When she was next to him, he remarked, “I really love Ketchum, Donna. You gotta buy her.”
“We’ll see. She seems like a good one.”
It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. Sullenly, he urged the mare to trot faster. But as he approached Luke’s horse, he slowed down. That gray gelding might get mad if Ketchum whistled past, and Ian didn’t want Luke to have trouble with his horse. So, he reined his mount alongside his buddy. He wanted to show-off, to show Donna that he could handle Ketchum just fine.
His muscles tightened a bit and he wondered if he really could handle her. She was like a little race car. He was used to his ornery old pony. He’d ridden Donna’s gelding a few times and liked the big horse’s long, stretchy stride. But Ketchum wasn’t as stretchy as she was quick and ready. She felt like a jet engine … or what Ian imagined a jet engine would feel like.
Luke glanced at him and said, “You can go by if you want. Pokey Moki won’t care if you pass. He’s kinda lazy and never wants to race.” He leaned toward Ian and said, “That’s why I like him. His only problem is he runs off whenever he gets loose. Ketchum would never do that. But she likes to race.”
“Okay!” Ian barely nudged the mare, but his head snapped back as she bolted.
A laugh bubbled up and erupted as the horse sped through the wide arroyo. In moments they were going so fast, the air was pushing his eyes into the back of his skull. Everything blurred. When he opened his mouth, the air was shoved into his throat. Between his legs, Ketchum heaved in rhythm to her strides. And behind him, he heard Donna calling, “Slow down, Ian!”
He was almost disappointed when Ketchum responded when he lifted the reins. He almost wanted to keep going, to never stop, to run away with the horse that had stolen his heart. But down, deep inside, he was relieved, too. It was a wonder that a powerful animal like Ketchum would slow down with a little lift of the rein. Tears were soothing his eyes and a big, big smile was stretching his mouth so much that his teeth were dry. Awesome!
*~~~~~*
Donna wiped the sweat from her brow. Darn hot out! Glancing at the distant clouds, she speculated if it would rain later, but the weather report didn’t call for rain. In her opinion, they were riding too slow. She checked her watch and shook her head. It was after noon and they weren’t even to the Vet Check station. At this rate, they’d be out for ten hours!
In spite of the slow speed, Donna was really pleased with Ketchum. If the mare finished the competition in reasonable shape, all the effort would be worth it. Ian would have a great horse to campaign for the rest of the season.
Her attention drifted, planning more rides. Someday, her own baby boys would be riding with her. But for the next couple of years, her kid brother was a terrific companion. In fact, there wasn’t anyone she’d rather ride with. Ian was fun and a great sport. Never complained, always kept a forward attitude. Best of all, horses really liked him.
Thirst interrupted her musings and she pulled a water-bottle from her pommel bag. The fluid drenched her throat, and jolted her mind. How long had it been? Hours! Hours since they started! They must have been getting close to the veterinary check-point. Where the heck was it?
Relived, she spied a windmill. This was it! Finally! But it was completely vacant of riders. Dismayed, Donna looked around the area and asked the veterinarian, “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, the last rider left about an hour ago,” he replied, jerking his head toward surveyor ribbons marking the trail. “Your ice chest is over there.” He pointed at a pick-up truck parked nearby.
“Ian, you and Luke get your sandwiches and drinks,” Donna urged, swinging off her mount. She joined Kayla to tend the horses while the Vet examined them.
“This horse looks great!” he remarked about Ketchum.
They only had a half hour to eat and take care of their horses. Leaving Kayla tending the animals and boys, Donna hustled to the porta-john. Short hold! Not much time to feed the horses. Gotta remember to tie jackets to saddles and fill water bottles. Probably should check the batteries in the flashlights, too. When she returned, she showed Ian the hand-drawn ride-map.
“See, when we get to the gorge, we turn left into it, ride down about two miles. Then we turn left and climb out.” Wishing he’d pay closer attention, she handed it to him. “Keep it with you.”
The mandatory rest time, a half-hour, evaporated as quickly as the sweat from their brows. On the trail again, they climbed uphill forever. To the east, a huge, steely-gray palisade towered sharply above the trail. To the west, a russet mountain loafed across the horizon. Under the horses’ hooves, sand softened the rocky path as it switched back-and-forth, up toward a distant summit.