the winged rider
All is darkness. I am not afraid. I am bathed in warmth and nourished. I lay with my knees drawn up. With limited movement I turn and kick out. I hear, I feel, I think. It is the womb of my mother. I am safe and loved. And I remember…..
Our midwife Ora Jane assisted by Granny T hovered about the room and my mother Alexa. The labor had been intense and long but she had only dilated to a six and stopped, exhausted her strength abating. Granny T had prepared some black cohosh tea to help induce labor. Prayers ascended and a severe storm descended. There was war in Heaven and Michael and the angels fought with the Dragon. The wind seemed to pick the house up and shake it like a puppy with a new toy then suddenly drop it back down again. It shuttered and groaned like an arthritic old man trying to get out of bed. As the storm approached the dark sky was illuminated by brilliant lances of light and a basso profundo of thunder.
Suddenly the house was struck with a bolt of electric fury and a wave of energy sped like a streaking comet throughout each room finally alighting on Alexa and the unborn babe awaiting in the womb. She gasped and cried out her eyes wide and protruding while her heart raced and her breathing became shallow and rapid. And just as quickly she slowly released a deep breath as a surreal calm enveloped the room. Then Alexa dilated swiftly to a ten and with pushes and controlled breathing birthed the baby. The after birth followed with little bleeding, mother and child radiantly beautiful and healthy. My father came in the room beholding his wife and for the first time his son. Taking his heir into his arms tears flowed down his cheeks. He then bent down and kissed his wife. All creation witnessed the look of love that flowed between them. And there was laughter and tears of joy. Granny T danced a jig and Eula Jean entered right in. And there was great wonder. And I remember it all….
I am wakened by loud noises and screams. My mother rushes to gather me up and run out of the back of the house breathing hard. I hear a loud ‘pop’. She falls forward losing her grasp tumbling to the ground careful to gently toss me out of harm’s way. I land on a soft bed of leaves and pine needles. With great effort and groaning she rolls to her side and then on her back and weakly calls my name. I crawl to her side. She reaches out to touch me and locks with my eyes. Her lips move but there is no sound. Her eyes do the talking. Slowly they close with tranquility framing her face and a slight smile across her lips. I crawl on her stomach and root to be suckled. A strange sticky liquid covers her breast. I cry. I am afraid. I hear voices. They are angry and guttural. ‘The bitch is dead. Do we kill the kid’? A pause. ‘Leave it. Let it suffer. It won’t last long. It will be ett by some critter by mornin’ anyway’. They turn and walk away.
Once again darkness descends. I seek warmth and comfort but my mother’s body is cold. I shiver. I pull myself up closer to her face and lie with my tears mingling with her blood. My cries echo in the night skies, the moon and stars guarding jealously over this heart searing scene, unique to time and eternity. Tears fall from the windows of heaven as this sacrosanct portrait of mother and child is forever engraved on the pages of the ages.
I cry interspersed with sleep throughout the night as a new day dawns. Gone are those moments when she would sing to me making soft cooing sounds sitting in the rocker holding me at her breasts our eyes remaining transfixed on one another. Deep unto deep. I hear footfalls and sobs as attempts are made to lift me from my mother’s lifeless body. My fists cling to her garments and my tiny fingers have to be pried away from her mortal form. I am nestled into caring arms. Arching my back with my little fist extended skyward I let out a pitiful primal scream of anguish. Then the gray skies that had accompanied the dawn parted and a brilliant beam of light descended like a dove coming to rest on the babe and this ethereal scene. And for a moment time stopped and bowed its head and all was quiet. All who were there marveled. And I remember….
Living adjacent to my folks was Bree and Balin Blue, my mother’s sister and husband. Having no sons the girls inherited property from their father upon his death. I became the heir of half of 2500 acres of prime Kentucky bluegrass, horses, and grain on a farm west of Lexington, known as the horse capital of the world near the town of Versailles. While famous thoroughbreds run the races, the horse that built Kentucky was bred not far away deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Eastern Kentucky known as the Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse renowned for its smooth gait, hardiness, and demeanor. And among other famous breeds there are more registered quarter horses here than anywhere else in the country.
It’s the water. From deep underground aquifers in limestone deposits artesians rise to the surface supplying crystal clear water perfect for distillation and Kentucky’s famous Bourbon whiskey. The area boasts many famous distilleries: Wild Turkey, Buffalo Trace, and Woodford Reserve among others. In the 1870’s many of Kentucky’s distilleries were still in their infancy providing welcome employment and opportunities for grain growers, cooperages, and tree fellers. Our farm grew corn, wheat, rye and bred mostly thoroughbreds and quarter horses, helping provide work and homes for many needy families especially after the war.
With generous grand hearts my aunt and uncle, Bree and Balin raised me as their own son. Being childless Bree embraced the opportunity to be a surrogate mother. Her natural instincts and love for the child and his mother, her sister, along with Granny T’s herbs enabled her to lactate and she was able to nurse. She got no resistance from me. Two weeks had passed since finding me clinging to my mother’s lifeless form. As Bree put me to breast gazing into my face she began to cry unable to extract the nightmarish picture of her sister’s desperate flight to protect her baby now covered in her own blood, brutally wantonly cut down shot in the back. Sitting in the evening with her husband by the fire racked by the pain of her grief, I drew back from the breast looking intently into her eyes and then smiled never leaving her gaze. ‘Balin’ she cried, ‘this child in the midst of his own anguish is helping to heal the hurt I feel’. Bree then looked up shaking her head back and forth with an immense smile.
The family grew as a neighbor’s young daughter was orphaned after the unfortunate death of her parents. When Jenny arrived we were separated by only three months and nothing else. There was an instant connection between us, soul mates though toddlers. We never argued or fought, and our adoptive parents marveled at our bonding. Often we could be found chattering with each other and as we grew walking or running holding hands smiling with peals of laughter.
One day at the age of four Jenny and I heard a loud thump at one of the front windows and walked out on the covered front porch finding a small bird stunned with a broken wing. Jenny picked it up and holding it in her hand held in out to me to touch. Gently stroking its head and wing it arighted itself, chirped, as if to say thank you, fluttered its wings and flew away. Jenny threw her head back and laughed with such delight. Even though a child, Jenny knew.
We were allowed to explore under the watchful eye of our parents or one of the servants accompanied by our much loved German Shepherd Sam. In the garden some flowers had been trampled by his buddy a mastiff named Leon excitedly chasing after ‘something’. We carefully traced Leon’s steps Jenny picking up the heads of broken stems and crushed flowers for me to touch. When we were finished the garden was beautiful once again with Jenny laughing buoyantly, my face in a serene smile. Often are activities were witnessed by others as they watched with awe and wonder.
The realization of my unique gift of healing came to my father when one of our prized thoroughbreds was having great difficulty in delivery with a breach birth. Having done all that they could do my father and the vet stood back wiping their sweaty brows looking on with great concern weary from the long night’s effort. Allowing me to approach I gently rubbed the mares neck and then her stomach. Movement could be seen as the colt changed his position in his momma’s tummy and then his front hoofs appeared followed by his nose and head. Our veterinarian looked at Balin and said, ‘In all my years I ain’t never seen anything like that afore’.
Jenny and I were diligent with our skoolin’ and chores always ready and eager to help when and where needed. On this day we were helping to harvest corn for our families to eat when the young maid in front of me stopped abruptly whispering stay back master Zaxton, frozen with fear. I stepped around her arm held out to stop me and promptly walked up to the biggest timber rattler folks around here have ever seen. It was coiled and rattlin’ ready to strike when it saw me. I spoke calmly to the snake and it uncoiled itself stopped rattlin’ and quickly slithered away, never to threaten men again. The dark eyes of our maid were ready for poppin’, her jaw a droppin’. ‘Oh Lord, what is it I jest seen’?
It was a beautiful fall day and Jenny and I went with our Momma to visit some neighbors. Their daughter and only child, our friend, was dying from the fever, Doc sayin’ he had done all he could do. ‘She’s in God’s hands. All we can do is hope and pray’. As the friends sat around the table, Jenny tugged on my sleeve and gestured for me to quietly follow. Entering Josey’s room we approached the bed and her tiny body racked with fever and pain. Looking at me through tear filled eyes Jenny motioned to me with her head. I softly touched Josey’s face and spoke her name. Straight away her fever broke and her eyes fluttered open. Turning she gazed upon us with the sweetest smile. ‘Ah’ she said ‘it is you. I dreamed you would come’. She reached to touch us and then put her hand over her heart. Her bight brown eyes told all. Running to the kitchen we excitedly asked her parents to come to her room. Oh!, what a commotion with voices lifted in thankfulness and joy.
On a day when Balin and most of the crew were gone takin’ a few dozen horses to auction the household was left with only three men on the property who were away at that time in the far pasture. There had been no reason to suspect any foul play, so Balin left givin’ instructions and feelin’ confident about our safety. That afternoon five heavily armed men pulled up in front of the house. They yelled addressing the house and Momma walked out with a double barrel 12 gauge Bentley and Playfair shotgun pointed at the man in the middle who was doin’ most the talkin’. They stank so bad we could smell them in the hide away Momma told us to go to and stay at in the basement. ‘I know what dog shit looks like and smells like’ Momma said. ‘First time I’ve ever seen it setting a horse’. The leader smiled and said, ‘jest the way I like em, a mite sassy and all’.
He began to git off his horse when Momma said, ‘you best stay on your hawse or you’ll be dead afore your right foot hits the ground’. Getting back up he said, ‘well Ma’am looks like there’s five of us to only one of you’. ‘I may die but that won’t matter nun to you’ she said, ‘as you sure as Hell will be dead! My husband and his crew are due. You best be leavin’ before yer feedin’ worms’. ‘Ah, ain’t that sorrowful boys. Cum here fer a little Southern hospitality and she commences to say offendin’ things about us and then tells sum outright lies. Wale, we been a watchin’. Yer man and his boys are long away from cheer and they ain’t a comin’. And those three in the back pasture is busy chasin’ strays that sum how got through one or two downed wares. Sides, thar are a few other fine phillies lurkin’ inside and Billie Boy here likes em young’. Then there was laughter and big grins through foul smellin’ broken toothed gaping pie holes.
It was then that I walked out the front door and stood between Momma and these filthy murderin’ highbinders. Momma was so stunned she couldn’t get a word out. I turned and smiled at her and then turned back and faced the men. They started to say somethin’ but I put my hand out palm forward to stop them, stammering the best they could do. Pausing and calmly looking into each of their eyes I said ‘you best be goin’ or you will awl be dead iffin yer still here by the time I count to three’. ‘One’! And then you’ve never seen men so scared and drivin’ there horses so hard at full chisel in all yer born days. Jenny and all the household had come upstairs to watch the scene unfold and broke out in a chorus of yippin’, yells, and applause as Jenny ran down the stairs to give me a bear hug and kisses. Momma was in such a shock she jest plopped down shakin’, putting the gun flat on the porch floor and commenced to bawlin’. And then she looked up at me through tear filled eyes and simply said, ‘Zaxton Blue what am I ever gunna do with you! I love you so’, motioning for me to come to her. She hugged me liken to never let go. Then released from her embrace and starin’ into her face with a huge grin I said, ‘You were surely sum kind ah momma bear today’ and then lifting my head I loudly proclaimed, ‘I’m feelin’ a mite proud of my momma’! Then the whole household gathered around her with more cheers, hugs, and kisses. Something positutely passed between us that day.
Two days later when Balin returned, Bree took him aside privately to share all that happened in his absence. Once again the water works overflowed as she related how scared she was until I walked out standing in the gap facing these lower than snakes’ filthy scum, a knight protector, King Arthur and all his men of renown in the form of a single solitary figure, a fearless eleven-year-old boy. Holding mom tightly they set together in a silent reverie. Then Momma got up and searched for me saying, ‘your Pa wants to talk with you’. I found him settin’ the porch in a quiet contemplative mood. Seein’ me he motioned me over with a smile and drew me close. ‘The day’ he spoke ‘you joined our family we were blessed with so much more than just a son’. Pausing he said, ‘you never cease to amaze me. Thankyou for standin’ strong for your family’. ‘Pa’ I said looking full into his eyes, ‘I will always keep them safe whenever yer gone’. ‘I know you will son’ he spoke, ‘I know’.
Jenny and I always freely showed affection for one another, especially Jenny. At first growin’ up as brother and sister and then later so much more. Becoming conscious of the change in the direction of our feelins’ we were not as overt in our affections, but you could sure see it in our eyes. Often we would take rides on our horses sometimes to the river and on occasion to my earliest home, Jenny always saying she was perfectly safe as long as she was with me. This day we rode to my first home and set on a small rise overlooking what remained of those memories. She asked me to tell her what happened and I related the events stoically. ‘After the war’, I told her finishing my narration, ‘desperate men sympathizers for North and South created mayhem and murder just from the whim of a rumor. The war was horrible enough and then this hideously brutal aftermath. There was so much suffering, so much carnage. No one was safe’.
I had begun to sense the change in my life’s purpose and because there were no secrets between us only secrets kept, I shared about my new direction. It felt appropriate overlookin’ the stones and mounds of my folks burial grounds.
We were eighteen. Jenny was a natural beauty her long blond hair flowing with fine feminine features and sparkling blue eyes and a smile so bright that I swear it could light your way on a cold dark night. She walked erect with a noble bearing standing 5’ 6” full of grace and kindness. And me with dark eyes and lashes fine features from my Ma and ruggedness, height, and build from my Pa. I stood 6’2” with dark wavy brown hair. Even older girls would blush and stare in my presence. But for me it was always and only Jenny and she for me.
As we sat there we spoke of marriage and our future together. We would build a fine house suited for hospitality with a large kitchen and lots of bedrooms. ‘Do you want to build here’? she asked. ‘No’ I said, ‘not over the foundation and ashes of the past. We will build from the solid foundation we have already laid in our lives together in just the perfect place for our family’. Taking her hand we stood and faced each other. I drew her close and kissed her (on the lips) for the first time. It was long, lingering, and full of an ocean of emotion, wave after wave cresting and forming again. I then held her close drinking in her smell and the warmth of her body, two hearts beating as one. When we finally separated Jenny tilted her head back and laughed to the heavens and then lowered her head looking into my eyes her face covered with a sparkling smile. ‘My’ she said, ‘that was worth the wait, and far more than I ever dreamed of’.
Neither Jenny or I were much for townin so content to live in the beauty and tranquility of the country. But when necessity demanded we would go together, run errands, get supplies, and have a fun lunch. On this particular occasion Jenny had preceeded me out the door of Brightman’s General store while I paid the bill and gathered up the remaining packages. She was immediately accosted by three bullies taunting her and yelling obscenities grabbing at her packages. Setting my load down I calmly walked over and taking Jenny’s arm I gently pulled her backwards and stepped in front of her facing the three bullies. They started toward me and then abruptly stopped. Their faces were contorted and their eyes slits as they walked quickly away taking only one backward glance. I stood there stationary riveted on them until they began to run. Brightman stared out the front window and scratched his head, mumbling and shaking his noggin all the way back to his counter. ‘Mighty peculiar, yes sir mighty peculiar’. Jenny looked at me smilin’ as we both said, ‘town’. What neither Brightman or Jenny saw was my brilliant countenance and eyes with flashes of light emanating from them. Any man with an impure motive and evil intent was forced to look away, the darkness in his heart exposed by the light.
Some men have such a propensity for evil, their conscious becomes seared with hellish heat. As sparks fly upward they are born to trouble. They are like a storm cloud raining down their evil deeds upon the ground (mankind) everything saturated and affected. And because their rain of terror is not vanquished and justice is not swiftly executed, they are emboldened to even greater acts of malevolent wickedness. They must be stopped. Other men being convicted of their sins will repent and turn embracing the light.
In this world evil must be restrained like a dam holding back a massive volume of water, the evil that lurks in men’s minds. A controlled flow is released but sometimes the dam becomes so full of water (evil) it surges over the top and out the overflow, and the land becomes vulnerable to floods and widespread destruction. Often against overwhelming odds, light continues to oppose darkness never giving up, never giving in.
As a healer I understood a malignancy in the body must first be removed for the body to heal. Saving lives sometimes requires the taking of lives. God’s intention is not only for judgment and justice in the hereafter but for judgment that has already been given and for justice to be carried out in the here and now. Where are the good men willing to give all standing in the gap to halt the tide of evil? Forged in the fire I answer the call.
My preparation began long before my journey to earth. My instructions were explicit. Uphold Judgment dispense justice and show no mercy to evil, without hesitation without remorse. One night I was awakened and drawn outside to one of our barns. There I saw a winged horse, the Pegasus of Greek mythology. I called him Seraphim after the angels around the throne who did fly. He was a chameleon changing color to fit the circumstance and surroundings. I was not equipped with weapons of man’s creation but with a sword, the sword of Gideon. From it a current of energy like a flame of fire would flow out vanquishing all enemies. I was given a cape and mask to protect my identity.
Are not all these things written for our instruction? They subsist out of ‘normal’ space and time, most things do. Only a minute amount of things are ever known and experienced in this earthly pilgrimage. Not that they cannot be known, the memory of man going back vastly farther that history is willing to admit. These repressed memories are relegated to the dark recesses of our mind, forgotten and rarely accessed but never removed. Instead our minds are cluttered with unessential tripe, trash, trivia, and endless vulgarities preventing our reception to these wonderful memories and our ability to believe when we are confronted by them. The life most live is like a grain of sand on a vast ocean shore indistinguishable from the other grain heads, willing to be walked on and swept away with the changing tide.
I will relate just three stories for your enlightenment. Whether you believe or not they will still be told. Out of all the multitudes in Jerusalem and Judea, Christ was sent to only a few. If you hesitate I will be gone. For another soul is willing and ready. Are you just another grain of ocean’s sand, or a bright light along the starry strand?
She was only 21 with two children, Cissy age 5 and Jimmy age 4. She had buried her husband this past fall. Neighbors had come to help attend the dead alerted by old Doc Adams, bringing food for the occasion. Good thing. Her cupboards were bare. Looking at a farm with everything in disrepair, and a mother and children gaunt, hollow eyed, thread bare, and obviously destitute they left sayin’, ‘if you need anything jest let us know’. Empty insincere prattle offered to placate their conscious with no intention of lifting a hand to help. Judith would never ask for help from folks who when their need was so plain to see offered only hollow words. She would not be beholdin’. With a small portion of gruel and a potato a day she kept the family alive through the winter supplemented with some milk by their faithful cow Betsy until she was found dead one cold mornin’. She hadn’t had enough to eat to ward off the cold. Judith fell to her knees weeping, stroking Betsy’s head and imploring Heaven for help.
She had married Joseph young, him promising a bright future and an escape from her woeful cheerless life. Her father, an abusive drunk would lash out in anger at anyone, mother, brothers and herself blaming them for his miserable existance. With tears flowing goodbye’s were said huggin’ her brothers and Ma possibly for the last time. ‘You’ve got to go child. It ain’t safe here for ya’, Ma said, ‘And remember your Pa wasn’t always this a way’. Joseph had read about land to be had, the Homestead Act providin’ 160 acres for a small registration fee, the land to be used as a primary residence and with improvements, a title given after five years. But the frontier could be brutal often with plagues of insects and insufficient fuel and water. Joseph literally worked hisself to death trying to provide for the family. He was a loving husband and father but his frail thin body began to wane and for the last three months he was bedfast. Doc said it was a disease called cancer. We watched him slowly painfully shrivel up and die. He had begun to smell and our small house was filled with the stench of death. This was particularly hard on the children, but they loved their Pa and until the end he would attempt to smile and tell them how much he loved them.
It was early spring and we welcomed the warmth of the sun, somehow surviving those cold winter months. The children had become listless and lathargic. I tried to bolster their fading spirits, their eyes dull and lifeless. Grabbing my hoe I attempted to break ground for the garden, the soil resistant to my feeble blows. ‘Momma’ Cissy said pointing, and I looked up to see three filthy stinkin’ men ridin’ up with mayhem on their mind. ‘Hi there pretty lady. You got water for our horses and maybe sum food for our bellies’? ‘Water is mighty scarce and I ain’t got no extra food, barely enough to keep the children alive’ I said. ‘Well, we think we’ll just help ourselves to whatever’s left and then get our fill of you’. Getting down off their horses they faced us intently discussin’ what they were first gunna do to the children before they took me inside to have sum ‘fun’ and eatin’ everything and anything they could find. ‘Look at them’ one of them said, thar sure ain’t anyone who gives a damn. Hell, no one will ever miss em’ if they’s gone’. They never turned to see a winged horse and rider drop gently down from the sky not 30 yards away. The children who were terrified standing behind me clinging to my skirt as I raised my hoe to defend them to the death, now watched with wonder this spectre with eyes transfixed and mouths agape.
There is extraordinary anger in Heaven when the lives of little ones their mothers and widows are threatened. Raising my sword to Heaven and then down pointed directly at these vile lower than dirt, twice the sons of Satan, I cried with a loud voice, ‘let the millstones hang’ as these three vile reprobates grabbed at their throat’s tugging at invisible thick chords gasping for air eyes bulging as an unseen hand drug them away. Absolutely awe struck the children and Judith looked up at me as I approached, Seraphim nodding and pawing the ground, extending his front feet and bowing his head. Getting down from Seraphim I walked towards them. Now frozen in place and unable to move Judith stammered out ‘who are you’? ‘I am a messenger’, I spoke. ‘From the beginning your prayers have been heard, Angels were sent, and Joseph now dwells peacefully without pain interceding on your behalf’. I then knelt before them and removed my mask with a beaming smile. They visibly relaxed letting out pent upped breath. I then turned and motioned behind me to Jenny who was pulling a wagon positively loaded with food, clothes, and shoes everything they had done without and could only imagine. Judith then lowered herself to the ground and placing her hands to her face began to sob. From a sack at my side I offered two bags of candy to the children. With wide eyes and an expression of wonder they hesitantly accepted.
Jenny had accompanied me this time giving much needed special attention to the mother. Gently helping her up she said, ‘why don’t you put on some water for coffee’. ‘Coffee’! Judith exclaimed wiping her eyes, ‘I haven’t had any for months’. ‘I’ve even got cream and sugar just the way you like it best’ Jenny added. And then ‘something special for the two of you’ as she handed each of the children a sasparilla, this time receiving it without hesitance with a huge smile. I unloaded box after box of food, enough to fill Judith’s cupboards, pantry, and cellar. ‘While you place things where you want Judith’ Jenny spoke, ‘ I will prepare a sumptuous dinner’. Then with the help of the children we opened boxes of clothes, shoes, socks, pants, shirts, hats, gloves, dresses, night gowns, under garments, and personal items of hygiene. And there were boxes of dishes, cookware, towels, sheets, blankets, and toys for the children. Heaven spared no expense.
Sitting round the table Judith lifted her tear stained face offering praise and thanksgiving. It was a wonderful celebration. Afterwards the children excused themselves to play with their new presents and I placed four bags of gold coins on the table with a large envelope of greenbacks. While Judith sat stunned, I explained there was twenty thousand dollars in gold coins and another five thousand dollars in greenbacks for her and the children. ‘It is for a new start away from here, possibly with your mother who desperately misses you. Your father has passed and she would love to see these grandbabies. ‘When you are ready’ I continued handing her a card, ‘this good man will come out and help you gather your things and take you to the nearest railroad station’. We will leave the wagon and horse for your transportation. I will unharness him and put him in your barn. There are plenty of bags of oats and some hay for his feed’.
Looking at Judith with a bright smile Jenny added, ‘there is someone even now praying and looking for a loving wife and family. He too has suffered loss like you. Open your heart to love again’. Preparing to leave I told Judith not to fear for her family’s safety or the safe keeping of her newfound wealth. She would always have a hedge of protection around her.
Mounting Seraphim Jenny handed me the children one at a time ‘for a ride around the block’. There was no fear only the sound of children laughing in pure delight. Then I extended my arm to Judith with a smile yelling, ‘all aboard’. ‘You really don’t want to miss this chance to fly’. ‘No I don’t’! was her reply’. Once again there were sounds of rapturous jubilation and euphoria. Letting her down she was still intoxicated reveling in the moment with her eyes closed and a sweet smile. Then she opened them and looking at me I spoke. ‘Judith, you are not gunna have the same struggle that others will have believing in things beyond the scope of their life experience and ability to receive. So be wise with your words, keep your heart pure, and your mind always open to the truth. Everything will be revealed in its time’.
My second story within a story is set in the Great Plains a few years removed from the ‘Battle of Little Bighorn’ in 1876. Lieutenant LaRouche led his band of sixteen not-so-merry men on a mission of discovery and reconnaissance out of Fort Sully just south of the present site of the capital of South Dakota, Pierre. They also wanted to maintain a continual military presence for the protection of settlers from renegade Sioux attacking along the outback. Sargeant O’Rourke a wily veteran of the Indian wars kept close watch on all the green pups while John Cook Coley and his Pawnee friend known as ‘Bear’, were scouts. You couldn’t go no better.
Leavin’ a dust plume that could be seen from Arcturus our presence was certainly known to the Sioux. On our fifth day of recon Bear and Coley who were scoutin’ about a mile ahead came lightin’ a shuck chasin’ a cloud of dust, the wind a blowin’ behind them. Pullin’ up they pointed to the back of them and then forward to our rear. ‘We’re caught in a wedge afore and behind. We’ll have to make a run for those rocks and small canyon pointin’ east’, Coley said. ‘Spread out and ride hard men’ La Rouche shouted. ‘Your life depends on it’! It was most of a mile and a half before they reached the safety of the rocks and canyon. Jumpin’ down and takin’ positions behind the rocks and returnin’ fire, LaRouche ordered the horses taken deeper into the canyon for safety.
‘Sargeant’ LaRouche spoke, ‘what are our casualties’. ‘Two dead and two wounded and out of the fight Sir’. ‘Tell the men to conserve water and lead’ the Lieutenant said. Upon returnin’ the sergeant and LaRouche set up guards and a schedule. By the end of the third night, a total of eight days in this vampirish weather, the scalding sun and heat seemed to have sucked dry any moisture left in our bodies. Our skin and lips were cracked, our tongues swollen, and our eyes only thin slats. We had ceased to sweat and couldn’t piss. Men have survived by drinkin’ their own urine in times when it was the only fluid available. Under ordinary conditions man can survive three days without water, but under these conditions every hour was the measure of the meager amount of sand left in the hourglass of our lives. It was the end of the third day and night in the belly of the beast. We were at critical mass. The horses exhausted from their flight for life, a run of desperation, lay down quietly and nobly embraced darkness and their final breath. Depending on the suns relentless march through the sky we might have a little shade behind the boulders that protected us, but the rocks only intensified the heat. My scouts knew of no water and any attempts of escape were futile. The Sioux were camped a quarter mile away just over a rise directly in front of us. We were watched at all times. Arrows were shot into our defensive position randomly night and day. Any movement was made very cautiously in a stooped or crawling position.
Conferring with the sergeant and scouts are situation was untenable. Like Custer this was to be our last stand. The Sioux would feign an attack but halt before our rifles could reach them. At night around their drum circles they would dance and chant celebrating their victory that was sure to come. The glow of their night fires mocked us. I shouted encouragement to the men while I still had a voice urging them to pray and never give up. Our strength drained from us as we lay motionless, each alone with his own thoughts, clinging to life defiantly protesting the messenger of death. Most of these pups were still in their teens, too young to die, but old enough to ponder all the dreams they had that would now never have the chance to come to pass. Afraid but courageous to the end except for one soldier who cratering to fear went running into the darkness screaming hysterically, his arrow shirt pierced with multiple colored shafts a fitting accessory in some Indians wikiup. The feathered ends displayed all the scalps he had taken, and like the white eyes with his animal trophies adorning his walls, unique bragging rites for each culture. I felt honored to die amongst such men.
The Sioux patiently waited our defeat, relishing in our imminent demise. They would strip our bodies, remove anything of value, before mutilating our carcasses.. Bones and tattered remains would be the only evidence of our final moments for any detail sent from the fort. Sarge managed to crawl close by. ‘I reckon this is near the end. Some of the men are comatose and unresponsive. Wanted you to know it’s been a pleasure to serve with you lieutenant’. Suddenly the night noise ceased and all was silent in the Sioux encampment. ‘What do you think Sarge’? Where are their voices’? But when we looked towards the halo created by their fires we saw only a lone figure on a winged horse with empty Indian ponies following close behind. I shook my head attempting to focus. ‘Lieutenant LaRouche, Sargeant O’Rourke’ a voice cried out. I come bearing water’.
Walking to us with two skins of water he began to pour it into our eager mouths deliberately splashing it on our faces, lips, and any exposed skin. ‘Don’t worry he said, like the widow with her cruse of oil during a famine in Israel, she obeyed the prophet Elijah and the cruse of oil never ran dry and neither will this water. Immediately revived he instructed us to take the two skins of water and give it to the men splashing it liberally on their faces and filling their canteens. Have them tend to any horses still alive. This was so much more than water. It was an elixir vitae, the water of life. We were immediately revitalized, pulled back from death’s abyss. Everything it touched was wonderfully restored.
We began to stand and shake ourselves and then embrace each other with tears and jubilation. ‘Come’ Rider spoke to Sarge and I and the two scouts Coley and Bear, ‘jump on the backs of these ponies and follow me to the camp of the Sioux’. When we arrived no one was there. The fires were burning, meat was on the spit, meal in the bowls, armaments, teepees, everything in its place. They had simply disappeared without a trace and in such haste they never even took their ponies. Like the lepers in the book of Second Kings who reasoned that if they stayed where they were they would surely die. If they went into the city they would be stoned. Perhaps they said if we go to the camp of the Syrians they will take pity on us and give us meat and we shall yet live. Finding the camp totally abandoned by the Syrians leaving everything in their wake they returned to the city proclaiming what they had found, the starving inhabitants rushing to the site. And it was as the lepers said and the prophet spoke.
So stunned at what they saw the soldiers began to kneel as tears coursed down their cheeks and fell to the ground. The grizzly veterans openly cried led by their tough as leather sergeant, O’Rourke. Finally getting to their feet I said, ‘let’s get some meat’! Returning to the camp all the men shared in this feast of Thanksgiving. As the sun rose they looked upon Seraphim and me with great wonder. ‘I come to you not bound by the laws that govern the movement of man’. ‘You were pulled back from the brink of death. Only by joy and sorrow does a man know anything about himself and his creator. Leave here better men with hearts of compassion always willing to extend a hand to others in their time of need’. And then I added, ‘your skins of water will not fail until you reach the fort. Go. You will always be protected’.
And now for my last story. So many more could be told. These three are sufficient, if you will believe.
Reno Sparks and brothers Bass, Boles, and Robert LeRoy had gathered to themselves a small army, over a hundred strong. You could not find a greater gathering of malignant cancerous evil anywhere on the earth. Spawned in Hell these demons of darkness spread their vile villainy with impunity. They had spies everywhere, eyes and ears handsomely rewarded for their betrayal, law dogs, judges, and public servants at their beckon and call. Others were compliant subject to threats and fear for their families. Their reign of terror spanned from Santa Fe to the west, the Sangree de Cristos to the north, Dallas to the east, and the Rio Grande and Mexico to the south. Simultaney in splinter groups they would operate with scant effective resistance from the Rangers, Marshalls, and even the Army. Attacking on multiple fronts it was almost impossible to know where to defend against them. With abundant resources new recruits were readily available either conscripted and threatened or volunteers and desperate. They seemed to disappear into the desert and mountains often operating in disguise with aliases and legitimate business and professional fronts. Well organized with deep pockets and influence they remained an enigma and seemingly untouchable. Until now….
Once a year all the brothers would meet in an obscure location, easily defended, and virtually undetectable, this year on a ranch in a valley high in New Mexico’s Guadalupe Mountains along the North Seven River. The locals were all well paid and fearfully vowed silence helping to supply this three day event. While the brothers planned the coming years ‘business’ the approximately 120 men were treated to a feast of meats and savory dishes with lavish amounts of whiskey and their opiate of choice: peyote, mescal, saguaro, psilocybin mushrooms, poppies and morning glories all properly prepared for their use. It was a place greatly feared by the locals, mostly Indian and Mexican, and known as ‘the dene of the walking dead’ a place of wondering spirits having left their first abode. On the second day carts of bound and gagged women and children, boys and girls would arrive for their ‘entertainment’. Savagely denuded and forced to stand naked stripped of all decency and petrified with fear on an auction block, they were drugged and sold to the highest bidder. This macabre scene would climax with the sacrifice of the life of a newborn child.
Into this hellish abyss I rode immediately silencing these bestial bacchants. I arrived on the second day before the arrival of the innocents transported in cages like animals in ages as young as eleven. They would have been horribly scarred for life. The revelers were paralyzed unable to speak. Judgment was proclaimed but just before it fell I called out the names of six men: McSpadden, Morrison, Torres, Sullivan, Davis, and Bosehardt. They came forward the only ones able to move. Having refrained from the wanton excess of the other men they were sober and hung their heads ashamed. ‘You’ I spoke ‘have only recently been courted succumbing to desperation driven by the fear of not providing and feeding your families unable to pay your mortgages with no more credit extended and babies crying, hungry and sick. You alone have yet to commit atrocities with these vile limbs of Satan. You are given a second chance to return to your wife’s and children. Their prayers have been heard crying night and day for the salvation of your souls asking that you be prevented from doing such evil. Remember, pressure a good man as hard as you can and all you will get is good. You cannot correct your problems by doing evil. Good never spawns from wickedness. Now go from here and ride hard returning to your families. They expectantly watch for your return. Acquit yourselves as men, loving your wife’s and children. Honor God, be ever vigilant, and make them proud’!
Immediately upon their departure, ravenous worm like creatures with sharp teeth and scorpion like tails began to feed upon the bodies of the remaining men crawling out of every orifice, including their male member, their cries of torment echoing off the hills and up the canyon walls. They groveled in the dirt seized in excruciating agony. The next morning the skies were darkened by thousands of carrion sent to feed upon their dead carcasses, in this ‘the dene of the dead’. The six men returning in haste to their families all told a similar story. Michael Morrison would like to relate his to you….
‘As I rode down the dusty lane leading to our house on our small farm my wife came bursting out the front door running with tears to greet me. I had barely dismounted when I was smothered in kisses and hugs with my two young children clinging to my legs. It felt like all creation stopped to witness this joyful reunion. Then drawing back my wife Beth excitedly said, ‘Michael come into the house and see’! Following her and the children inside I was stunned to see box after box of food, clothing, and every possible provision. Beth had already filled every cupboard and had started on the pantry when the children alerted her to my coming’.
‘I stood dumbfounded with my mouth open trying to grasp what I was seeing. ‘That’s not all’ Beth said asking me to sit at the kitchen table while she handed me several envelopes. The first was from the bank thanking us for paying our account in full, enclosing a deed for the property. ‘But how’? I stammered. The second one also from the bank updating our account and showing a balance of exactly $20,000. Now I began to tremble as I opened envelopes from every account in town where we owed money thanking us for paying our accounts in full, some even showing an outstanding credit in our balance. Then reaching to her back she handed me a large envelope filled with $10,000 in various denominations of greenbacks. Holding it and looking into her eyes I lowered my head and cried like I’ve never cried before. Slowly raising my gaze and blowing my nose, I looked at Beth perplexed, ‘But who’? I inquired. ‘Just yesterday a very handsome young couple came in a wagon loaded with all these supplies. You must be mistaken’ I said. ‘No’ they said with huge smiles, ‘it’s all for you. Your prayers are always heard, the answer often coming in ways least expected. You never asked for material things, only for your husband to be safe, and kept from doing any evil. God knows what you have need of even before you ask, and Heaven gladly shares from its wonderful bounty’. They then helped unload and we shared a delightful lunch before they left saying to ‘watch for your soon return’.
Story note: Ledgers were found with names and payouts, and because the threat of reprisal from all the tenacles of the Sparks Gangs had been severed, the rats began to sing. Layer after layer of complicity was exposed and the perpetrators were apprehended.
In closing let me pray with you
’Our Father which art in Heaven hallowed be thy name
thy kingdom come thy will be done
in earth as it is in Heaven
give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors
lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil
for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever
AMEN