 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
"Opulent Flashback" by Eric L. Steele will
arrive at your local book stores by early
Summer 2010. To reserve your copy, email
novels@themidnighthorseshow.com
arrive at your local book stores by early
Summer 2010. To reserve your copy, email
novels@themidnighthorseshow.com
Three Days Earlier
The view was breathtaking. A misty fog hung over the ranch as a warm summer breeze rush down from the mountain this morning signaling
something good was about to begin. Maybe it was a sign or an omen? Or was it simply the beginning of what that was written so long ago in a
man’s life whose accomplished so much and yet whose life was no more than a shadow of all his past indiscretions. Suddenly and
unceremoniously, the big ugly alarm clock rang on time as predicted, as expected. Except this morning when his eyes opened a spark ignited
in his soul that filled the room with new visions, anticipation and heart felt dreams that were one day nearer to becoming reality. Was it all a
dream or was this his final mission in life.
Normally, Jon McIntyre carried an infectious smile coupled with a kind and gentle disposition now that his days were no longer filled with
corporate politics, unresolved and endless petty problems coupled with constant bitching and unceremonious complaining of union
representatives who wanted more, more and more while working less, less and less – if that was indeed humanly possible. And yet today
signaled the end of a long road filled with fleeting romances, illusive relationships and now acceptance of the final solution steeped in the
grand illusion of a life fading into history.
Unless you stirred his ire or was outwardly aggressive or disrespectful to one of his many horses, everyone who knew this gentle man of
compassion understood the many complex sides of his nature and multiple personalities when it came to the human factor in life. Agreement
was arbitrary and not easily understood or accurately surmised by those who stood in judgment, but one factor, one missing link, and one
defining moment remained visible in the forefront. It was the one element that eluded this man and the one missing element necessary to
complete the final circle since time itself became a precious commode and that was not all that long ago.
In the heart and soul of Jon McIntyre, this particular morning signaled a new beginning for two separate spirits. Two spirits who along the road
of life some how became lost, one was the result of a carefully executed plan and the other was due to fates right hand. And yet, this new day
also signaled another day of hard work on a ranch designed for the neglected, a ranch specializing in lost souls who were left to wander this
planet alone and those who simply could not care for themselves. Many if not all were initially rejected by the human social animal called the
establishment and self ordained powers to be, but never seemed to give up or give into those who called themselves the reigning moral
authority. Holding the words of our founding fathers in his heart, Jon McIntyre set out to establish a place where no human or equine would
ever have to stand before those who hold absolute power over their daily lives and freedom and that is how it all began so very long ago.
To the restless or carefree minds and those who dare gaze upon this section of land, they could only draw one conclusion. This well
manicured ranch that claims just over twenty eight hundred and seventy nine acres of fertile possibilities was the perfect place to settle into
the final days of the summer and even a life. The ranch in question carried an unusual name. A name borrowed with dignity and pride from
those who once roamed this part of the country for centuries until the Europeans came calling. So with a pure heart deeply steeped in
respect, dignity and honor permission was sought from the old ones who understood the intent of Mr. McIntyre. Upon approval from the old
ones this parcel of land now classified as a ranch filled with hope and a place where dreams come true was now and forever know as “The
Ten Bear’s Ranch & Sanctuary”.
This proud and carefully selected parcel of land was located in the rolling hills and cascading mountains of Northern Colorado just west of
Interstate Highway 25 and forty-one miles south - southwest of the Wyoming State boarder. The western boundary of Ten Bear’s Ranch
included a large section of a body of pure mountain water known as Red Feather Lake and its water rights. In addition to Red Feathers Lake,
the property also skirted the boundaries of another lake, a lake rich with life giving nutrients and precious water that escaped the pollution of
man and his endless conquests, called Creedmore Lake. This purchase was due in part to applied political pressure and the good nature of
high-level political assistance. All in all, it was the perfect piece of land as defined by the criteria known as, a ranch that was well hidden from
the growing population of wintertime playboy snow bunnies and their accompanying excessive male baggage, decadent industrialists and their
genetically and emotionally defective families, the dreaded real estate brokers and their obsession for spreading the deadly urban decease
known in the slums of eastern America and Southern California as the real estate developer’s STD. In addition, it was highly coveted by other
affluent people hell bent on finding tranquility and isolation through the conduit of legal tender and all the trappings and shortcomings it could
offer. The short answer, it was this year’s trendy place to live and play at least until the common and less desirable people discovered its
hiding place.
Nevertheless, Jon McIntyre had beaten them all to the punch by nearly two decades and counting. For you see, shortly after resigning his
commission in The United States Marine Corps and prior to beginning his tumultuous roller-coaster ride in the septic tank of the country called
corporate America, he wisely and with forethought and for all the wrong criteria purchased discretely a vast tract of land from the Bureau of
Land Management with the help of some well positioned friends in the out going Jimmy Carter Administration. They were admittedly and with
honor, avid environmentalists, strict animal rights people and overall good-hearted men and women who still carried a healthy appetite for
decency and moral perpetuite. Unfortunately, they knew they were, as most of us now believe, an endangered species destined for the recycle
bins of the liars and thieves in Washington DC known as The United States Congress - notwithstanding.
Setting aside it’s tumultuous birth, the Ten-Bears’ Ranch & Sanctuary was by design filled with hope and opportunity and unconditionally void
of despair or persecution of those who were born less fortunate or for those who just got lost along the road of life. At its roots, it offered hope
for a better life and a place where all their dreams could come true. And it was a place for all those who walked through the main gates to call
their final home if they so desired. But more importantly, it offered hope for all those horses that were fortunate to find their way to this part of
the country with help of a perfect human being with caring hearts and a bright spirits. And it was a ranch that offered a near perfect life for
both equine and human all for the asking. And yet, it was a life void of despair for all those creatures, whether human and equine, that now
called this collection of barns, log cabins, spacious and fertile land, and fresh-water lakes flanked by the foothills and mountains their home
away from home. And for some, it was their final and most precious home on this earth and would serve as the place where they would draw
their final breath. However and more importantly, it was a place were the unwanted, the unloved and the unappreciated and all to often
abused could come and find peace and forgiveness. It was a place coupled with kindness and compassion and most of all passion and resolve
for those sins they did not commit and yet were forced to carry in this lifetime of tears.
The time was now 0545. Jon was finishing his second cup of freshly brewed and refined Columbian coffee that with every sip reminded him of
a once sincere woman with dark eyes and long black hair. A woman filled with passion and someone he dearly loved with every fiber in his
heart and soul so long ago. As he refocused his thoughts and gathered new visions of another day’s activities and duties on the ranch, his
mind again carefully drifted as he gazed out to the western pasture and then up and into the mountains. This time his thoughts wondered
aimlessly as he drew the proper prospective and concluded with a simple and yet not all that profound question for the ages. “What did it all
mean and what did it all look like nearly four hundred years ago?” However, the one question for which he had no answer today or yesterday
was, “Who will look after my horses and care for this land I have come to love with such passion when I am no longer on this earth?” With a
fleeting smile and a slight grin that turned once again to a look of sadness, he said out loud, “Maybe that answer is forth coming in a few days
or weeks or maybe it is relegated to another life, but for now at least he mused, only time will tell.“ But one thought he retained daily and felt
strongly about while carrying it so deeply inside his soul was, the winds of change were beginning to blow again and tomorrow just may
become a milestone in his complex and highly successful life. And according to those who keep the score, this day would soon emerge as an
omen and begin a new and brighter journey through life. What did he just say? Nevertheless, change was approaching and as expected Jon
McIntyre welcomed its arrival with the same tenacity and drive for excellence that he accepted his commission as an officer and a gentleman in
the United States Marine Corps as new second Lieutenant many decades ago. Except this cycle of change would mark a new beginning and
become known to all those who knew this man of honor as a gift from above and the answer to all his prayers. They were prayers held so
closely that no one saw it coming, no one except one special horse who knew he could not spend the rest of his life all alone.
So with time now running short and numerous horses and chores still needing his attention, Jon McIntyre poured one last cup of coffee, placed
his leather gloves in his back pocket and walked out the door and headed to the barn to begin a new day in his now less than complicated life
with a large and very becoming smile. When he reached the barn he saw two proud geldings standing on line waiting less than patiently for
their breakfast. As expected, when he opened the barn doors he was greeted by a high level of nickering and low level whinnying that began
from the remaining four boys and four girls. With a rub on the oldest boys head and a call of his standard, “Good morning boys girls”, Jon
reached for the bank of lights and with a flick of his wrist this new day of days began in earnest. Making his way down the row of stalls filled
with his family, his friends and the only remaining element of his now old life that still carried a spark of adventure and purpose. For they
alone were his family, they were his reasons for living and they were the precious elements that kept him breathing in and breathing out
everyday as he began his final mission in life – the search for time lost.
The morning chores progressed quickly. Now with all the horses fed and out on pasture, the morning chore of cleaning stalls and refreshing
water buckets began. It was good work Mr. McIntyre always said of his daily manual labor. It was honest work, but hard work. And with a grin
he graciously articulated, “Far better than his previous endeavors of shuffling papers, listening to numerous excuses for incompetence and
dodging the political power plays continuously set in motion by those who desired to take his place as the so called top dog of the company.”
However, this morning after chores were completed, the mid-day hours were reserved for a long and relaxing ride with his favorite and biggest
standing gelding. And of course that was Diablo. Diablo was the big Andalusian that captured his heart and set his spirit soaring from the
moment he first looked into the eyes of this magnificent creature when he was no more than a newborn little colt. And everyday thereafter
nothing has changed, nothing was altered and as for the first time as well as every other time he looked at this big colt’s eyes he saw a proud
creature who carried the spirit of his homeland and the love of every young girl whoever called his name or stood in his presence. Diablo was
his hero and the one true creature that remained pure, unaffected by progress, un-manipulated by power and the ever changing social
structures as projected and nurtured by today’s Television networks, all driven by their version of the so-called “Pop Culture” generation --
whatever in the hell that meant.
Alone in the barn with pitchfork in hand, Jon stood quietly at the opening in the rear of the main barn. This morning his eyes saw only visions
of all his horses standing and enjoying the early morning pasture grass. But today his eyes also were filled with questions, questions as to
what will become of all these wonderful horse when he finally passes away. Who will care for them and more so who will love them with such
passion until the end of their time. But more importantly, at least on this morning, as he continued to watch them enjoy their early morning
routine and thought who would come and care for his favorite horse and make sure his final days on earth was of beauty and pain free?
Quietly and respectfully he said softly, “Diablo I could not leave this earth knowing that your fate was up in the air and unsecured. For you
see, Diablo’s DNA was well documented. He was a magnificent, purebred Andalusian horse. A horse steeped in pride and history and a horse
with character and passion inherited from his ancestors so long ago. They were ancestors whose linage was from a time far distant and long
since relegated to history in a place faraway from here and on the other side of the world. His homeland was known to all that loved horses
and especially those with character and passion as the modern birthplace of the American equine. He was a special horse from a famous
region of Spain known as Andalusia. He was once a proud stallion, whose life was all ahead of him with numerous dates in his book of record.
But as many who came before him, his life would end at the hands of the surgeon’s scalpel because Mr. McIntyre would not let him live a life of
a loner only called upon for breeding purposes then returned to isolation and a life filled with loneliness. No never, he was destined to
become a great friend, a big teddy bear of a horse and a young fellow with no sexual desires other than flirting with all the standing Philly’s on
the ranch. And may I say he did his assigned duties with enormous pleasure and grace. And yet, he was ever so gentle, ever so kind and
ever so appealing to all that chose to stand before him. He alone had a defined princely manner. His presence came with command presence,
that of Kings and Queens and I believed he fully understood his purpose in life – the betterment of the equine species and close standing
friend of the one human he dearly loved – Jon McIntyre. And yet, he was far from the normal stallion, a stallion who for some reason known to
only other males was not territorial, but rather, did carry a heavy protective nature when it came to his old and trusted friend. Jon was the man
who raised him. The one human who stood by his mother and assisted in his birth, and he was the first and only human to touch the young colt’
s adorable face when he first opened his eyes on that early morning. So you could say it was love at first sight and the beginning of the end
for the once powerful executive who now stood at the gates of change with tears running down his face as he made a promise to the heavens
above. He promised to always look after this colt, to love him unconditionally and never challenge him or mistreat him. As time progressed
and the young colt was scheduled to leave his mothers side, Mr. McIntyre could not bear to see the two separated so with a careful and highly
lucrative offer he purchased mother and son and began his final journey that would take him to the end of his time as he left this world and the
side of the one he would come to love so dearly and respectfully.
As mid day approached, Mr. McIntyre stood near the pasture gate with Diablo’s stately halter in hand. Although, there was no need for such
restrictive tools employed by those who seek to control and not peacefully co-exist with these magnificent creatures. No, all Jon McIntyre
needed was a smile as he began walking out into the pasture where Diablo stood quietly enjoying his morning meal. With a careful eye and
constantly on guard, no doubt a DNA trait inherited from past generations, the big Andalusian gelding pulled his head to the ready alert and
gazed towards his old friends direction. As Mr. McIntyre grew nearer, Diablo relaxed and began slowly walking his way as if he understood the
day’s schedule and was indeed looking forward to their date with the mountains. Was it because he knew his friend carried a pocket full of
carrots? Sweet organically grown carrots, a familiar by-product of the many organically certified gardens at the ranch, or was it simply that he
knew it was time to ride the mountains and enjoy time alone with the one human he so dearly loved and respected? Maybe it was a
combination of both or something else only known by the two of them. Or maybe it was something as simple as mutual respect, love and
admiration shared by these two creatures that now live as one. As did the native people, who roamed these lands centuries ago, Jon McIntyre
stood face-to-face with his friend and whispered something melodic into his ear then slipped a slim leather halter onto Diablo’s head and then
gave him a few carrots while he said softly, “Well boy, do you feel up to a little ride this morning up into the foothills?” Diablo never missed a
beat as he consumed his carrots. When he finished his last bite, Jon asked him for a hug. As if on perfect cue, the big horse lowered his
head and neatly tucked it just under Mr. McIntyre’s chin then leaned his big head inward until it rested on Jon’s chest. It was a sight for the
ages and a vision that could make any compassionate human develop a tear in their eyes because of the visual love now transmitted through
this simple act. When finished, the two friends who shared the ever illusive and highly complicated XY chromosomes turned and walked back
into the barn where Jon carefully placed the big western saddle onto Diablo’s back. It was a perfect saddle in every aspect. Perfect because it
was hand made, pre-measured and custom crafted to fit the big gelding perfectly. Made to sit neatly with Diablo’s natural curves and not
cause one millisecond of discomfort for the big boy with the oversized heart and brightly characterized spirit. Maybe it was something Mr.
McIntyre learned from the land, or maybe it was acquired from the Native American spirits that roam this ranch and mountains. Or just maybe
it was a symbol of dedication and trust extended to another through the sights and sounds of life. Nevertheless, Diablo never felt pain,
discomfort or restraint of a metal bit. There was no need since Diablo responded to Jon’s hand moments, his voice and the bridge of
compassion that flowed equally between two friends, two kindred spirits and two like-minded souls. With all the pomp and circumstance
satisfied, two friends began their morning ride in and through time and along a once distant past where both felt connected to the land and so
deeply admired all those who came before them.
This morning’s ride was no different than all the rest. It was as they all are, a ride that carried a reconnection factor with the past, and a
oneness with the land that drove them both one-step closer to the spirit world – their ultimate and final destination. Riding in the high country
of the ranch was that of a mystical force, a strong component that controlled those around it. And, it was a force that was non-existent back in
the city and a force that now was growing stronger with each passing day while Jon McIntyre remained at the ranch. Historically and full of
emotions, on any given morning if one was strong and confident in their spirituality, it was as if they were riding through time when the native
people respected the land and were indeed good custodians of what they considered a gift from above. It was a gift and not a privilege or not
their so called legal right to rape and destroy what took so long to make all in the name of the highly coveted “Legal Tender” of today’s world.
Armed with only an active imagination and a pure heart, one could stand in the foothills and imagine a time long since past. When the buffalo
roamed free and the deer were plenty. When the water was pure and life was hard, but rewarding when evening fell and the campfires grew
dim. Have we lost what was once dutiful? Have we forgotten what was once honest and decent, or has time taken its toll on all humans and
now we are no more than fleeting moments of greed?
After stopping at a cool mountain stream for a refreshing drink of water, the two friends continued their ride until they reached a clearing, a
plateau where Jon McIntyre dismounted and began walking with Diablo. Much later in life and towards the end of his time, Jon said of this place
high in the foothills and just below the mountain, “It reminded him of something he wished he could have experienced. He wished he could
spend a few days or years living with the Pawnee nation, learning their ways and listening to the stories passed down by the old ones as he
learned the ways of the Mother Nature.” As a young boy he recalled the tales told by the last of the dying old ones. The sadness and pain
they carried for the loss of a way of life, their way of life, passed down from generation to generation until the white man came and changed
the land forever. Now standing alone as his spirit felt the pain of what had come before him, a tear began running down this old man’s face. It
was a face that had seen much and a face that felt the sins of the human world for far to long, far too many times. And now it was a face of a
man who would stand and fight for those who were sent to earth and somehow just got lost along the way. Today and everyday until he
leaves this piece of land high in the foothills, a piece of his soul and a part of his spirit will remain as they always do with those who came
before him and for those who will follow in his footsteps he so prayed. With Diablo in hand, Jon rubbed the big and gentle Andalusian's face
and neck then gave him a hug and kiss on his nose. Followed by these simple words spoken from the deepest part of his heart, “You are my
spirit Diablo and for that I am so proud and respectful that you chose me as your friend in this life – I love you boy with all my heart.
As with every ride, especially on this day, time passed quickly as Jon and Diablo roamed the wilderness and followed the trails of the many
Pawnee Indians who came before him. They were filled with creative and honorable spirits that cared for the land since the beginning of time
and Jon McIntyre thought of them often. He wondered what it was like to live so long ago when life was simple and unobtrusive let alone filled
with immoral business venture capitalist looking for a fast buck at the hands of anyone foolish to trust them. With a grin and a tap on Diablo’s
neck he said softly, “Not us old boy and not today and not ever again.” With that thought, the two friends regained their focus and continued
their ride in a place reserved for those with pure hearts and honorable souls.
Now nearly lost in his thoughts and after an hour into their ride, Mr. McIntyre’s mind darted from one scenario to another. As the minutes
passed into hours suddenly, Jon noticed a slight if non-descript glancing movement out of the corner of his right eye. Carefully and with slow
eye movements so as not to spook the cagey intruder, he identified his shadow visitor as a very large wolf, possibly female, but not with young
pups. Nevertheless, she was beautiful. Her white and gray coat signaled a mature female with character and presence and not the typical
wolf seen in this part of the mountains. She was large, extremely large for a female and yet she was not startled by this human’s presence.
Rather, she continued her observations as the human and equine continued their ride in and out of the mountainous territory searching for
anything to clear their heads and help with the up and coming decision. Without any regards to his visitor, Jon McIntyre continued his
progress and yet the female wolf remained near and remotely out of distance for the balance of his ride. What was her intent? Was she
stalking this very large human out of hunger, of course not? This mature female was far too savvy, far too alert and far too disciplined in the
art of survival to risk attacking a human of the mountains, especially this very large and imposing human and his horse. Then what was her
purpose? When would she make her move? As it turned out, not today for today was left in silence on the trails and far out of reach of the
human mind that searches for redemption and purpose and where the main issue remained set into place. He was desperate for answers,
maybe the one answer that would finally let him begin a new life and offer final hope before his long journey ended on a cool spring evening
some twenty six years from now.
The balance of the day passed quickly and tomorrow was a new day. With morning chores now completed, Jon McIntyre again saddled up his
favorite horse Diablo and began yet another compelling and relaxing ride in and through the mountains as expected. This morning he took a
short detour and passed over a creek and found himself on top of a ridge that overlooked the ranch house and the five stately barns that
were just recently finished last weekend. They were designed for comfort and were home to a series of newly rescued horses from various
parts of Virginia and Kentucky. Horses that either failed on the racetracks or in the breeding barns and were no longer worthy of life or
feeding let alone any regards for affection or kindness. So with the assistance of a few well-positioned contacts within the current
administration in Washington, DC, they were medically cleared within hours and neatly loaded and shipped via the U S Department of
Agriculture to their final destination The Ten Bears Ranch & Sanctuary to begin a new and final life. By now Mr. McIntyre had dissolved his
thoughts and was thoroughly engulfed in the rich wilderness air that surrounded and nurtured his ranch. With no regard of time or location,
again out of the corner of his eye he spotted the same female wolf as she followed them. He could tell it was the same female because of the
unusual marking she carried with obvious pride and courage. This time he slowly dismounted Diablo and knelt down and spoke softly to her
as he called her name several times. Over the weeks and during many rides in the woods, Mr. McIntyre gave this beautiful creature a name. It
was a name that would stay with her until the end of her time on earth and a name that identified her as a noble and honorable creature that
had nearly accepted this human called McIntyre as one of her own. On this day however, a strange set of events began unfolding as he
continued to call her name ever so softly ever so calmly. Karanosa, oh Karanosa come and see me baby because I will never hurt you my
dear. Maybe it was the melodic sound of his voice or maybe it was a dream, a relapse in the fever he contacted while serving in the jungles of
Vietnam so many decades ago. Or maybe it was all indeed real. Then suddenly and to everyone’s surprise, Karanosa came closer to the big
Irishman who called her name. She stopped then sat down face-to-face with this human named McIntyre. As if it was all a dream, she spoke
softly and clearly as she began with, “Jon McIntyre, you have so little time left on this earth and yet you have no one dear to your heart who
will remember you when you are gone.” Jon look at her as a tear came to his eyes then he mused, “I must be hearing things my dear
Karanosa because you are a wolf, a creature of the wilderness and you can not speak, at least not English, or can you?” The big gentle wolf
moved ever so closer and then continued with, “What I am is not of importance. However, my message is ever lasting and that is the reason I
am here now with you and why you can hear me. For you see, I was sent from above to set you on your final journey, your final and most
important mission in this time for which you call life. And, when you have completed this final mission your time on earth will end and I will come
for you and take you back to heaven for eternity.” Karanosa continued as McIntyre sat in amazement, “Although your life has been to this
point productive in nature and honorable in scope it remains haunted and shallow. Shallow because one key element is missing and that
element is one last mission that will ultimately define you as a man and your time on this planet. That my friend is my mission, to guide you to
your final destination.” Jon McIntyre was now thoroughly confused. As expected, he turned to Diablo and asked if he could speak as well. No
answer, no reply from the big Andalusian as he too was listening to the beautiful female wolf named Karanosa. Just then a hawk and a very
large Eagle flew into the adjacent tree and sat quietly observing.
Karanosa continued, “You have made a difference in the lives of so many and yet you still have room and energy in your old heart for one
more person, one more mission – a young wayward child in need of your love. She will come to you in seven months, on the seventh day at
exactly seven O’clock in the morning. Her origin is rooted in a faraway country. A country distant to your knowledge and far removed from your
understanding and a place you have never seen or visited, but will very soon. She is in pain Jon McIntyre. She is need of a kind soul like you
and she is in desperate need of a good home, a perfect father and someone who will love her unconditionally and faithfully until he is called
back to heaven. She is so very young and full of life, but tonight that life will nearly end in tragedy and pain. At first she will resist, but you will
win her over and become more to her than she could ever imagined as she gives her heart to you – her new father.” By now Jon McIntyre was
setting next to Karanosa, side by side with his head in his hands listening to her every word when he finally asked the one question that
remained on his lips, “Are you really a wolf or are you an angel Karanosa?” She blinked her big brown eyes and grinned then said the words
Jon McIntyre would remember until the day he left this world, “I am what ever you wish me to be Jon McIntyre.” She then regained her balance
turned and walked slowly up and over the hill. But not before she turned and faced him and said clearly, “The young child’s name is that of
which you now affectionately call me.” She continued, “We will see each other only two more times Jon McIntyre, the next time I will come and
see you will be with your new daughter. That is the time I will set you on your final journey. And the final time I see you will be the last day of
your life. And on that day I come for you twenty six years from tonight I will take you home, your final home where there is no more pain and
suffering and where everything is of beauty. So until then, do the right thing and care for this gift that will come into your life, because the only
one who matters is now watching over you and she is God herself Jon McIntyre.” Karanosa smiled one last becoming smile then quickly
vanished over the hill and back into the high mountain range as Jon McIntyre sat and looked up at the Eagle and Hawk. As if summonsed by
the heavens, they too made their final pleas for uncomplicated compassion for a child lost and nearly deadened by pain as they watched this
human until he stood, regained his composure and got back up on Diablo and rode back to the ranch.
The ride back to the ranch was longer and shorter than expected. A few new trees had blown down during the last storm and now blocked the
trails. So Jon made a mental note and circled back to a distant trail and after an hour or so was in sight of the ranch.
Finally back in the area known as Ten Bears, he unsaddled Diablo and walked him back into his stall while leaving his door open as usual, but
not before rubbing his neck and giving him a big hug and a kiss on the nose. Quietly and with dedication Jon then said, “Well boy, that was
strange morning and whatever it means to us is far above me.” But the message was clean and the messenger was real and for that Diablo
was clear. With his work now completed, Diablo nickered and rubbed his head against Jon McIntyre’s chest as if to say, when you figure it all
out will you come and tell me what just occurred?” Then with majesty and purpose, the big Andalusian gelding turned and walked back into his
pasture and resumed grazing on the finest timothy grass in the county, imported directly from Ohio and planted and fertilized many years ago.
With the last of the final chores now complete this evening, Jon McIntyre was ready to call it a day and rest his old bones as one more day has
passed and now sleep beckons. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he took off his reading glasses, took a sip of cold water then lay down in bed
and pulled the covers up to his chest. As he did the ensuing pain that has claimed his body for the past several hours began to fade
mercifully for yet another evening. His back began to loosen, his shoulders relaxed and his mind danced in and out of the days events.
Mentally and with careful thought, he said to himself, I must call my neurologist tomorrow and schedule a MRI because I feel one of the many
old war wounds were beginning to take their toll on my now fleeting memory. With that last gesture and a becoming grin he exhaled and
turned out the lights, but not before ending the day with, I know it was only an hallucination, but I would give twenty years of my life to indeed
have a daughter. A young child I could love forever and spend my last years on earth caring for and teaching her my ways and what I have
learned during my time on this earth. A precious young daughter that would love me with all her heart and I would protect her from danger
until I was called to the spirit world above.” The old man’s eyes closed with those words on his lips and a dream of a special young child
dancing through his head as he drifted off into the make believe world of sleep.
The next day came and went as so many did while he was living at the ranch. And with the morning light came a decision, a decision that was
omni-present in his mind and had been since the beginning. So it was time for Jon McIntyre to return to his position and duties in the
corporate world of high finance. But this day something would change and set him on a new journey. As he stood in the barn with his big
Andalusian, something strange and undefined occurred. For a moment Mr. McIntyre stood perfectly still then closed his eyes and fell next to
the stall door where Diablo was resting. When we stood him up he looked glassy eyed and adrift; then slowly regained his composure and
said, big boy I am not going back. For this is where I must remain from now until the end of my time. With that presentation, his final
presentation to a captivate audience, Mr. McIntyre turned and walked into the house to make his final call and resign his position.
Unemployed and enjoying the moment, Jon then placed a call to his investment banker and personal friend. At ease with his decision and
finally comfortable with all his tomorrows, Jon McIntyre walked back to the barn and placed a called to his closest friend who now lives in
Andalusia, Spain. After a brief yet pointed conversation, his request was set into motion and their was no turning back to a life void of
affection and the one element that has eluded him for all his natural life.
As he replaced the telephone receiver a grin came to his old and weathered face. With confidence and direction, he walked to the barn where
Diablo was standing. He kissed the big Andalusian on his nose and then carefully placed the big saddle on his back. The two friends for life
rode off into the mountains for one last wide and ranging discussion of a road never traveled until now. The conversation was the same topic,
but today the post ride action report would read more in detail and end this evening with an overseas telephone call to an old and dear friend
whose life has taken her to Costa de la Luz known as the “Coast of the Lights. Located in the providences of Huelva and Cadiz sitting on the
coast of the Atlantic Ocean in Andalusia, Spain.
After several hours on the trails, human and equine returned to the ranch with a clear and important mission now set in front of them. Except
this day and until the end of his time, his mind was clear, his focus was leveled and his heart was renewed and all he felt was forever young
and truly blessed for what he was about to undertake. Everyone at the ranch wondered what occurred in the mountains on that final day.
Was Mr. McIntyre reborn or did he see something not of this world? No matter, the man that rode to the mountains two days ago was no
longer the man who came down from the experience. And as they say in Hollywood, “Tomorrow is promised to no one!”
The view was breathtaking. A misty fog hung over the ranch as a warm summer breeze rush down from the mountain this morning signaling
something good was about to begin. Maybe it was a sign or an omen? Or was it simply the beginning of what that was written so long ago in a
man’s life whose accomplished so much and yet whose life was no more than a shadow of all his past indiscretions. Suddenly and
unceremoniously, the big ugly alarm clock rang on time as predicted, as expected. Except this morning when his eyes opened a spark ignited
in his soul that filled the room with new visions, anticipation and heart felt dreams that were one day nearer to becoming reality. Was it all a
dream or was this his final mission in life.
Normally, Jon McIntyre carried an infectious smile coupled with a kind and gentle disposition now that his days were no longer filled with
corporate politics, unresolved and endless petty problems coupled with constant bitching and unceremonious complaining of union
representatives who wanted more, more and more while working less, less and less – if that was indeed humanly possible. And yet today
signaled the end of a long road filled with fleeting romances, illusive relationships and now acceptance of the final solution steeped in the
grand illusion of a life fading into history.
Unless you stirred his ire or was outwardly aggressive or disrespectful to one of his many horses, everyone who knew this gentle man of
compassion understood the many complex sides of his nature and multiple personalities when it came to the human factor in life. Agreement
was arbitrary and not easily understood or accurately surmised by those who stood in judgment, but one factor, one missing link, and one
defining moment remained visible in the forefront. It was the one element that eluded this man and the one missing element necessary to
complete the final circle since time itself became a precious commode and that was not all that long ago.
In the heart and soul of Jon McIntyre, this particular morning signaled a new beginning for two separate spirits. Two spirits who along the road
of life some how became lost, one was the result of a carefully executed plan and the other was due to fates right hand. And yet, this new day
also signaled another day of hard work on a ranch designed for the neglected, a ranch specializing in lost souls who were left to wander this
planet alone and those who simply could not care for themselves. Many if not all were initially rejected by the human social animal called the
establishment and self ordained powers to be, but never seemed to give up or give into those who called themselves the reigning moral
authority. Holding the words of our founding fathers in his heart, Jon McIntyre set out to establish a place where no human or equine would
ever have to stand before those who hold absolute power over their daily lives and freedom and that is how it all began so very long ago.
To the restless or carefree minds and those who dare gaze upon this section of land, they could only draw one conclusion. This well
manicured ranch that claims just over twenty eight hundred and seventy nine acres of fertile possibilities was the perfect place to settle into
the final days of the summer and even a life. The ranch in question carried an unusual name. A name borrowed with dignity and pride from
those who once roamed this part of the country for centuries until the Europeans came calling. So with a pure heart deeply steeped in
respect, dignity and honor permission was sought from the old ones who understood the intent of Mr. McIntyre. Upon approval from the old
ones this parcel of land now classified as a ranch filled with hope and a place where dreams come true was now and forever know as “The
Ten Bear’s Ranch & Sanctuary”.
This proud and carefully selected parcel of land was located in the rolling hills and cascading mountains of Northern Colorado just west of
Interstate Highway 25 and forty-one miles south - southwest of the Wyoming State boarder. The western boundary of Ten Bear’s Ranch
included a large section of a body of pure mountain water known as Red Feather Lake and its water rights. In addition to Red Feathers Lake,
the property also skirted the boundaries of another lake, a lake rich with life giving nutrients and precious water that escaped the pollution of
man and his endless conquests, called Creedmore Lake. This purchase was due in part to applied political pressure and the good nature of
high-level political assistance. All in all, it was the perfect piece of land as defined by the criteria known as, a ranch that was well hidden from
the growing population of wintertime playboy snow bunnies and their accompanying excessive male baggage, decadent industrialists and their
genetically and emotionally defective families, the dreaded real estate brokers and their obsession for spreading the deadly urban decease
known in the slums of eastern America and Southern California as the real estate developer’s STD. In addition, it was highly coveted by other
affluent people hell bent on finding tranquility and isolation through the conduit of legal tender and all the trappings and shortcomings it could
offer. The short answer, it was this year’s trendy place to live and play at least until the common and less desirable people discovered its
hiding place.
Nevertheless, Jon McIntyre had beaten them all to the punch by nearly two decades and counting. For you see, shortly after resigning his
commission in The United States Marine Corps and prior to beginning his tumultuous roller-coaster ride in the septic tank of the country called
corporate America, he wisely and with forethought and for all the wrong criteria purchased discretely a vast tract of land from the Bureau of
Land Management with the help of some well positioned friends in the out going Jimmy Carter Administration. They were admittedly and with
honor, avid environmentalists, strict animal rights people and overall good-hearted men and women who still carried a healthy appetite for
decency and moral perpetuite. Unfortunately, they knew they were, as most of us now believe, an endangered species destined for the recycle
bins of the liars and thieves in Washington DC known as The United States Congress - notwithstanding.
Setting aside it’s tumultuous birth, the Ten-Bears’ Ranch & Sanctuary was by design filled with hope and opportunity and unconditionally void
of despair or persecution of those who were born less fortunate or for those who just got lost along the road of life. At its roots, it offered hope
for a better life and a place where all their dreams could come true. And it was a place for all those who walked through the main gates to call
their final home if they so desired. But more importantly, it offered hope for all those horses that were fortunate to find their way to this part of
the country with help of a perfect human being with caring hearts and a bright spirits. And it was a ranch that offered a near perfect life for
both equine and human all for the asking. And yet, it was a life void of despair for all those creatures, whether human and equine, that now
called this collection of barns, log cabins, spacious and fertile land, and fresh-water lakes flanked by the foothills and mountains their home
away from home. And for some, it was their final and most precious home on this earth and would serve as the place where they would draw
their final breath. However and more importantly, it was a place were the unwanted, the unloved and the unappreciated and all to often
abused could come and find peace and forgiveness. It was a place coupled with kindness and compassion and most of all passion and resolve
for those sins they did not commit and yet were forced to carry in this lifetime of tears.
The time was now 0545. Jon was finishing his second cup of freshly brewed and refined Columbian coffee that with every sip reminded him of
a once sincere woman with dark eyes and long black hair. A woman filled with passion and someone he dearly loved with every fiber in his
heart and soul so long ago. As he refocused his thoughts and gathered new visions of another day’s activities and duties on the ranch, his
mind again carefully drifted as he gazed out to the western pasture and then up and into the mountains. This time his thoughts wondered
aimlessly as he drew the proper prospective and concluded with a simple and yet not all that profound question for the ages. “What did it all
mean and what did it all look like nearly four hundred years ago?” However, the one question for which he had no answer today or yesterday
was, “Who will look after my horses and care for this land I have come to love with such passion when I am no longer on this earth?” With a
fleeting smile and a slight grin that turned once again to a look of sadness, he said out loud, “Maybe that answer is forth coming in a few days
or weeks or maybe it is relegated to another life, but for now at least he mused, only time will tell.“ But one thought he retained daily and felt
strongly about while carrying it so deeply inside his soul was, the winds of change were beginning to blow again and tomorrow just may
become a milestone in his complex and highly successful life. And according to those who keep the score, this day would soon emerge as an
omen and begin a new and brighter journey through life. What did he just say? Nevertheless, change was approaching and as expected Jon
McIntyre welcomed its arrival with the same tenacity and drive for excellence that he accepted his commission as an officer and a gentleman in
the United States Marine Corps as new second Lieutenant many decades ago. Except this cycle of change would mark a new beginning and
become known to all those who knew this man of honor as a gift from above and the answer to all his prayers. They were prayers held so
closely that no one saw it coming, no one except one special horse who knew he could not spend the rest of his life all alone.
So with time now running short and numerous horses and chores still needing his attention, Jon McIntyre poured one last cup of coffee, placed
his leather gloves in his back pocket and walked out the door and headed to the barn to begin a new day in his now less than complicated life
with a large and very becoming smile. When he reached the barn he saw two proud geldings standing on line waiting less than patiently for
their breakfast. As expected, when he opened the barn doors he was greeted by a high level of nickering and low level whinnying that began
from the remaining four boys and four girls. With a rub on the oldest boys head and a call of his standard, “Good morning boys girls”, Jon
reached for the bank of lights and with a flick of his wrist this new day of days began in earnest. Making his way down the row of stalls filled
with his family, his friends and the only remaining element of his now old life that still carried a spark of adventure and purpose. For they
alone were his family, they were his reasons for living and they were the precious elements that kept him breathing in and breathing out
everyday as he began his final mission in life – the search for time lost.
The morning chores progressed quickly. Now with all the horses fed and out on pasture, the morning chore of cleaning stalls and refreshing
water buckets began. It was good work Mr. McIntyre always said of his daily manual labor. It was honest work, but hard work. And with a grin
he graciously articulated, “Far better than his previous endeavors of shuffling papers, listening to numerous excuses for incompetence and
dodging the political power plays continuously set in motion by those who desired to take his place as the so called top dog of the company.”
However, this morning after chores were completed, the mid-day hours were reserved for a long and relaxing ride with his favorite and biggest
standing gelding. And of course that was Diablo. Diablo was the big Andalusian that captured his heart and set his spirit soaring from the
moment he first looked into the eyes of this magnificent creature when he was no more than a newborn little colt. And everyday thereafter
nothing has changed, nothing was altered and as for the first time as well as every other time he looked at this big colt’s eyes he saw a proud
creature who carried the spirit of his homeland and the love of every young girl whoever called his name or stood in his presence. Diablo was
his hero and the one true creature that remained pure, unaffected by progress, un-manipulated by power and the ever changing social
structures as projected and nurtured by today’s Television networks, all driven by their version of the so-called “Pop Culture” generation --
whatever in the hell that meant.
Alone in the barn with pitchfork in hand, Jon stood quietly at the opening in the rear of the main barn. This morning his eyes saw only visions
of all his horses standing and enjoying the early morning pasture grass. But today his eyes also were filled with questions, questions as to
what will become of all these wonderful horse when he finally passes away. Who will care for them and more so who will love them with such
passion until the end of their time. But more importantly, at least on this morning, as he continued to watch them enjoy their early morning
routine and thought who would come and care for his favorite horse and make sure his final days on earth was of beauty and pain free?
Quietly and respectfully he said softly, “Diablo I could not leave this earth knowing that your fate was up in the air and unsecured. For you
see, Diablo’s DNA was well documented. He was a magnificent, purebred Andalusian horse. A horse steeped in pride and history and a horse
with character and passion inherited from his ancestors so long ago. They were ancestors whose linage was from a time far distant and long
since relegated to history in a place faraway from here and on the other side of the world. His homeland was known to all that loved horses
and especially those with character and passion as the modern birthplace of the American equine. He was a special horse from a famous
region of Spain known as Andalusia. He was once a proud stallion, whose life was all ahead of him with numerous dates in his book of record.
But as many who came before him, his life would end at the hands of the surgeon’s scalpel because Mr. McIntyre would not let him live a life of
a loner only called upon for breeding purposes then returned to isolation and a life filled with loneliness. No never, he was destined to
become a great friend, a big teddy bear of a horse and a young fellow with no sexual desires other than flirting with all the standing Philly’s on
the ranch. And may I say he did his assigned duties with enormous pleasure and grace. And yet, he was ever so gentle, ever so kind and
ever so appealing to all that chose to stand before him. He alone had a defined princely manner. His presence came with command presence,
that of Kings and Queens and I believed he fully understood his purpose in life – the betterment of the equine species and close standing
friend of the one human he dearly loved – Jon McIntyre. And yet, he was far from the normal stallion, a stallion who for some reason known to
only other males was not territorial, but rather, did carry a heavy protective nature when it came to his old and trusted friend. Jon was the man
who raised him. The one human who stood by his mother and assisted in his birth, and he was the first and only human to touch the young colt’
s adorable face when he first opened his eyes on that early morning. So you could say it was love at first sight and the beginning of the end
for the once powerful executive who now stood at the gates of change with tears running down his face as he made a promise to the heavens
above. He promised to always look after this colt, to love him unconditionally and never challenge him or mistreat him. As time progressed
and the young colt was scheduled to leave his mothers side, Mr. McIntyre could not bear to see the two separated so with a careful and highly
lucrative offer he purchased mother and son and began his final journey that would take him to the end of his time as he left this world and the
side of the one he would come to love so dearly and respectfully.
As mid day approached, Mr. McIntyre stood near the pasture gate with Diablo’s stately halter in hand. Although, there was no need for such
restrictive tools employed by those who seek to control and not peacefully co-exist with these magnificent creatures. No, all Jon McIntyre
needed was a smile as he began walking out into the pasture where Diablo stood quietly enjoying his morning meal. With a careful eye and
constantly on guard, no doubt a DNA trait inherited from past generations, the big Andalusian gelding pulled his head to the ready alert and
gazed towards his old friends direction. As Mr. McIntyre grew nearer, Diablo relaxed and began slowly walking his way as if he understood the
day’s schedule and was indeed looking forward to their date with the mountains. Was it because he knew his friend carried a pocket full of
carrots? Sweet organically grown carrots, a familiar by-product of the many organically certified gardens at the ranch, or was it simply that he
knew it was time to ride the mountains and enjoy time alone with the one human he so dearly loved and respected? Maybe it was a
combination of both or something else only known by the two of them. Or maybe it was something as simple as mutual respect, love and
admiration shared by these two creatures that now live as one. As did the native people, who roamed these lands centuries ago, Jon McIntyre
stood face-to-face with his friend and whispered something melodic into his ear then slipped a slim leather halter onto Diablo’s head and then
gave him a few carrots while he said softly, “Well boy, do you feel up to a little ride this morning up into the foothills?” Diablo never missed a
beat as he consumed his carrots. When he finished his last bite, Jon asked him for a hug. As if on perfect cue, the big horse lowered his
head and neatly tucked it just under Mr. McIntyre’s chin then leaned his big head inward until it rested on Jon’s chest. It was a sight for the
ages and a vision that could make any compassionate human develop a tear in their eyes because of the visual love now transmitted through
this simple act. When finished, the two friends who shared the ever illusive and highly complicated XY chromosomes turned and walked back
into the barn where Jon carefully placed the big western saddle onto Diablo’s back. It was a perfect saddle in every aspect. Perfect because it
was hand made, pre-measured and custom crafted to fit the big gelding perfectly. Made to sit neatly with Diablo’s natural curves and not
cause one millisecond of discomfort for the big boy with the oversized heart and brightly characterized spirit. Maybe it was something Mr.
McIntyre learned from the land, or maybe it was acquired from the Native American spirits that roam this ranch and mountains. Or just maybe
it was a symbol of dedication and trust extended to another through the sights and sounds of life. Nevertheless, Diablo never felt pain,
discomfort or restraint of a metal bit. There was no need since Diablo responded to Jon’s hand moments, his voice and the bridge of
compassion that flowed equally between two friends, two kindred spirits and two like-minded souls. With all the pomp and circumstance
satisfied, two friends began their morning ride in and through time and along a once distant past where both felt connected to the land and so
deeply admired all those who came before them.
This morning’s ride was no different than all the rest. It was as they all are, a ride that carried a reconnection factor with the past, and a
oneness with the land that drove them both one-step closer to the spirit world – their ultimate and final destination. Riding in the high country
of the ranch was that of a mystical force, a strong component that controlled those around it. And, it was a force that was non-existent back in
the city and a force that now was growing stronger with each passing day while Jon McIntyre remained at the ranch. Historically and full of
emotions, on any given morning if one was strong and confident in their spirituality, it was as if they were riding through time when the native
people respected the land and were indeed good custodians of what they considered a gift from above. It was a gift and not a privilege or not
their so called legal right to rape and destroy what took so long to make all in the name of the highly coveted “Legal Tender” of today’s world.
Armed with only an active imagination and a pure heart, one could stand in the foothills and imagine a time long since past. When the buffalo
roamed free and the deer were plenty. When the water was pure and life was hard, but rewarding when evening fell and the campfires grew
dim. Have we lost what was once dutiful? Have we forgotten what was once honest and decent, or has time taken its toll on all humans and
now we are no more than fleeting moments of greed?
After stopping at a cool mountain stream for a refreshing drink of water, the two friends continued their ride until they reached a clearing, a
plateau where Jon McIntyre dismounted and began walking with Diablo. Much later in life and towards the end of his time, Jon said of this place
high in the foothills and just below the mountain, “It reminded him of something he wished he could have experienced. He wished he could
spend a few days or years living with the Pawnee nation, learning their ways and listening to the stories passed down by the old ones as he
learned the ways of the Mother Nature.” As a young boy he recalled the tales told by the last of the dying old ones. The sadness and pain
they carried for the loss of a way of life, their way of life, passed down from generation to generation until the white man came and changed
the land forever. Now standing alone as his spirit felt the pain of what had come before him, a tear began running down this old man’s face. It
was a face that had seen much and a face that felt the sins of the human world for far to long, far too many times. And now it was a face of a
man who would stand and fight for those who were sent to earth and somehow just got lost along the way. Today and everyday until he
leaves this piece of land high in the foothills, a piece of his soul and a part of his spirit will remain as they always do with those who came
before him and for those who will follow in his footsteps he so prayed. With Diablo in hand, Jon rubbed the big and gentle Andalusian's face
and neck then gave him a hug and kiss on his nose. Followed by these simple words spoken from the deepest part of his heart, “You are my
spirit Diablo and for that I am so proud and respectful that you chose me as your friend in this life – I love you boy with all my heart.
As with every ride, especially on this day, time passed quickly as Jon and Diablo roamed the wilderness and followed the trails of the many
Pawnee Indians who came before him. They were filled with creative and honorable spirits that cared for the land since the beginning of time
and Jon McIntyre thought of them often. He wondered what it was like to live so long ago when life was simple and unobtrusive let alone filled
with immoral business venture capitalist looking for a fast buck at the hands of anyone foolish to trust them. With a grin and a tap on Diablo’s
neck he said softly, “Not us old boy and not today and not ever again.” With that thought, the two friends regained their focus and continued
their ride in a place reserved for those with pure hearts and honorable souls.
Now nearly lost in his thoughts and after an hour into their ride, Mr. McIntyre’s mind darted from one scenario to another. As the minutes
passed into hours suddenly, Jon noticed a slight if non-descript glancing movement out of the corner of his right eye. Carefully and with slow
eye movements so as not to spook the cagey intruder, he identified his shadow visitor as a very large wolf, possibly female, but not with young
pups. Nevertheless, she was beautiful. Her white and gray coat signaled a mature female with character and presence and not the typical
wolf seen in this part of the mountains. She was large, extremely large for a female and yet she was not startled by this human’s presence.
Rather, she continued her observations as the human and equine continued their ride in and out of the mountainous territory searching for
anything to clear their heads and help with the up and coming decision. Without any regards to his visitor, Jon McIntyre continued his
progress and yet the female wolf remained near and remotely out of distance for the balance of his ride. What was her intent? Was she
stalking this very large human out of hunger, of course not? This mature female was far too savvy, far too alert and far too disciplined in the
art of survival to risk attacking a human of the mountains, especially this very large and imposing human and his horse. Then what was her
purpose? When would she make her move? As it turned out, not today for today was left in silence on the trails and far out of reach of the
human mind that searches for redemption and purpose and where the main issue remained set into place. He was desperate for answers,
maybe the one answer that would finally let him begin a new life and offer final hope before his long journey ended on a cool spring evening
some twenty six years from now.
The balance of the day passed quickly and tomorrow was a new day. With morning chores now completed, Jon McIntyre again saddled up his
favorite horse Diablo and began yet another compelling and relaxing ride in and through the mountains as expected. This morning he took a
short detour and passed over a creek and found himself on top of a ridge that overlooked the ranch house and the five stately barns that
were just recently finished last weekend. They were designed for comfort and were home to a series of newly rescued horses from various
parts of Virginia and Kentucky. Horses that either failed on the racetracks or in the breeding barns and were no longer worthy of life or
feeding let alone any regards for affection or kindness. So with the assistance of a few well-positioned contacts within the current
administration in Washington, DC, they were medically cleared within hours and neatly loaded and shipped via the U S Department of
Agriculture to their final destination The Ten Bears Ranch & Sanctuary to begin a new and final life. By now Mr. McIntyre had dissolved his
thoughts and was thoroughly engulfed in the rich wilderness air that surrounded and nurtured his ranch. With no regard of time or location,
again out of the corner of his eye he spotted the same female wolf as she followed them. He could tell it was the same female because of the
unusual marking she carried with obvious pride and courage. This time he slowly dismounted Diablo and knelt down and spoke softly to her
as he called her name several times. Over the weeks and during many rides in the woods, Mr. McIntyre gave this beautiful creature a name. It
was a name that would stay with her until the end of her time on earth and a name that identified her as a noble and honorable creature that
had nearly accepted this human called McIntyre as one of her own. On this day however, a strange set of events began unfolding as he
continued to call her name ever so softly ever so calmly. Karanosa, oh Karanosa come and see me baby because I will never hurt you my
dear. Maybe it was the melodic sound of his voice or maybe it was a dream, a relapse in the fever he contacted while serving in the jungles of
Vietnam so many decades ago. Or maybe it was all indeed real. Then suddenly and to everyone’s surprise, Karanosa came closer to the big
Irishman who called her name. She stopped then sat down face-to-face with this human named McIntyre. As if it was all a dream, she spoke
softly and clearly as she began with, “Jon McIntyre, you have so little time left on this earth and yet you have no one dear to your heart who
will remember you when you are gone.” Jon look at her as a tear came to his eyes then he mused, “I must be hearing things my dear
Karanosa because you are a wolf, a creature of the wilderness and you can not speak, at least not English, or can you?” The big gentle wolf
moved ever so closer and then continued with, “What I am is not of importance. However, my message is ever lasting and that is the reason I
am here now with you and why you can hear me. For you see, I was sent from above to set you on your final journey, your final and most
important mission in this time for which you call life. And, when you have completed this final mission your time on earth will end and I will come
for you and take you back to heaven for eternity.” Karanosa continued as McIntyre sat in amazement, “Although your life has been to this
point productive in nature and honorable in scope it remains haunted and shallow. Shallow because one key element is missing and that
element is one last mission that will ultimately define you as a man and your time on this planet. That my friend is my mission, to guide you to
your final destination.” Jon McIntyre was now thoroughly confused. As expected, he turned to Diablo and asked if he could speak as well. No
answer, no reply from the big Andalusian as he too was listening to the beautiful female wolf named Karanosa. Just then a hawk and a very
large Eagle flew into the adjacent tree and sat quietly observing.
Karanosa continued, “You have made a difference in the lives of so many and yet you still have room and energy in your old heart for one
more person, one more mission – a young wayward child in need of your love. She will come to you in seven months, on the seventh day at
exactly seven O’clock in the morning. Her origin is rooted in a faraway country. A country distant to your knowledge and far removed from your
understanding and a place you have never seen or visited, but will very soon. She is in pain Jon McIntyre. She is need of a kind soul like you
and she is in desperate need of a good home, a perfect father and someone who will love her unconditionally and faithfully until he is called
back to heaven. She is so very young and full of life, but tonight that life will nearly end in tragedy and pain. At first she will resist, but you will
win her over and become more to her than she could ever imagined as she gives her heart to you – her new father.” By now Jon McIntyre was
setting next to Karanosa, side by side with his head in his hands listening to her every word when he finally asked the one question that
remained on his lips, “Are you really a wolf or are you an angel Karanosa?” She blinked her big brown eyes and grinned then said the words
Jon McIntyre would remember until the day he left this world, “I am what ever you wish me to be Jon McIntyre.” She then regained her balance
turned and walked slowly up and over the hill. But not before she turned and faced him and said clearly, “The young child’s name is that of
which you now affectionately call me.” She continued, “We will see each other only two more times Jon McIntyre, the next time I will come and
see you will be with your new daughter. That is the time I will set you on your final journey. And the final time I see you will be the last day of
your life. And on that day I come for you twenty six years from tonight I will take you home, your final home where there is no more pain and
suffering and where everything is of beauty. So until then, do the right thing and care for this gift that will come into your life, because the only
one who matters is now watching over you and she is God herself Jon McIntyre.” Karanosa smiled one last becoming smile then quickly
vanished over the hill and back into the high mountain range as Jon McIntyre sat and looked up at the Eagle and Hawk. As if summonsed by
the heavens, they too made their final pleas for uncomplicated compassion for a child lost and nearly deadened by pain as they watched this
human until he stood, regained his composure and got back up on Diablo and rode back to the ranch.
The ride back to the ranch was longer and shorter than expected. A few new trees had blown down during the last storm and now blocked the
trails. So Jon made a mental note and circled back to a distant trail and after an hour or so was in sight of the ranch.
Finally back in the area known as Ten Bears, he unsaddled Diablo and walked him back into his stall while leaving his door open as usual, but
not before rubbing his neck and giving him a big hug and a kiss on the nose. Quietly and with dedication Jon then said, “Well boy, that was
strange morning and whatever it means to us is far above me.” But the message was clean and the messenger was real and for that Diablo
was clear. With his work now completed, Diablo nickered and rubbed his head against Jon McIntyre’s chest as if to say, when you figure it all
out will you come and tell me what just occurred?” Then with majesty and purpose, the big Andalusian gelding turned and walked back into his
pasture and resumed grazing on the finest timothy grass in the county, imported directly from Ohio and planted and fertilized many years ago.
With the last of the final chores now complete this evening, Jon McIntyre was ready to call it a day and rest his old bones as one more day has
passed and now sleep beckons. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he took off his reading glasses, took a sip of cold water then lay down in bed
and pulled the covers up to his chest. As he did the ensuing pain that has claimed his body for the past several hours began to fade
mercifully for yet another evening. His back began to loosen, his shoulders relaxed and his mind danced in and out of the days events.
Mentally and with careful thought, he said to himself, I must call my neurologist tomorrow and schedule a MRI because I feel one of the many
old war wounds were beginning to take their toll on my now fleeting memory. With that last gesture and a becoming grin he exhaled and
turned out the lights, but not before ending the day with, I know it was only an hallucination, but I would give twenty years of my life to indeed
have a daughter. A young child I could love forever and spend my last years on earth caring for and teaching her my ways and what I have
learned during my time on this earth. A precious young daughter that would love me with all her heart and I would protect her from danger
until I was called to the spirit world above.” The old man’s eyes closed with those words on his lips and a dream of a special young child
dancing through his head as he drifted off into the make believe world of sleep.
The next day came and went as so many did while he was living at the ranch. And with the morning light came a decision, a decision that was
omni-present in his mind and had been since the beginning. So it was time for Jon McIntyre to return to his position and duties in the
corporate world of high finance. But this day something would change and set him on a new journey. As he stood in the barn with his big
Andalusian, something strange and undefined occurred. For a moment Mr. McIntyre stood perfectly still then closed his eyes and fell next to
the stall door where Diablo was resting. When we stood him up he looked glassy eyed and adrift; then slowly regained his composure and
said, big boy I am not going back. For this is where I must remain from now until the end of my time. With that presentation, his final
presentation to a captivate audience, Mr. McIntyre turned and walked into the house to make his final call and resign his position.
Unemployed and enjoying the moment, Jon then placed a call to his investment banker and personal friend. At ease with his decision and
finally comfortable with all his tomorrows, Jon McIntyre walked back to the barn and placed a called to his closest friend who now lives in
Andalusia, Spain. After a brief yet pointed conversation, his request was set into motion and their was no turning back to a life void of
affection and the one element that has eluded him for all his natural life.
As he replaced the telephone receiver a grin came to his old and weathered face. With confidence and direction, he walked to the barn where
Diablo was standing. He kissed the big Andalusian on his nose and then carefully placed the big saddle on his back. The two friends for life
rode off into the mountains for one last wide and ranging discussion of a road never traveled until now. The conversation was the same topic,
but today the post ride action report would read more in detail and end this evening with an overseas telephone call to an old and dear friend
whose life has taken her to Costa de la Luz known as the “Coast of the Lights. Located in the providences of Huelva and Cadiz sitting on the
coast of the Atlantic Ocean in Andalusia, Spain.
After several hours on the trails, human and equine returned to the ranch with a clear and important mission now set in front of them. Except
this day and until the end of his time, his mind was clear, his focus was leveled and his heart was renewed and all he felt was forever young
and truly blessed for what he was about to undertake. Everyone at the ranch wondered what occurred in the mountains on that final day.
Was Mr. McIntyre reborn or did he see something not of this world? No matter, the man that rode to the mountains two days ago was no
longer the man who came down from the experience. And as they say in Hollywood, “Tomorrow is promised to no one!”
This contemporary story introduces Katrina Ryan,
CEO of a powerful communications company in
New York City, who after twenty years of working
endless days and weekends finally admits she
needs a few weeks off and a long delayed vacation
away from the grind of corporate America. Opulent
Flashback is a powerful story of a successful
woman with foresight and vision and is now in
production and will arrive in your local book stores
by early summer.
CEO of a powerful communications company in
New York City, who after twenty years of working
endless days and weekends finally admits she
needs a few weeks off and a long delayed vacation
away from the grind of corporate America. Opulent
Flashback is a powerful story of a successful
woman with foresight and vision and is now in
production and will arrive in your local book stores
by early summer.
Courtney Rogers was no more than a young child when
she first felt the cruel hand of the human beast for five
long and painful years. He was by all accounts, someone
her mother spent time with while desperately trying to re-
gain her youth and little girl ways. But more so, this is a
ten-year old girl’s silent cry for help and when no one
listened she ran away. Along the road of life, she would
find a creature that listened to her words, someone who
felt her pain, and realized her heartbreak. Then one
morning while standing at the gates of Valhalla, Courtney
met an old horse (Lady Allie Marie), a creature that
understood pain and abuse at the hands of the human
beast all to well. This emotional raw yet sadly accurate
story is scheduled for printing in mid-summer.
she first felt the cruel hand of the human beast for five
long and painful years. He was by all accounts, someone
her mother spent time with while desperately trying to re-
gain her youth and little girl ways. But more so, this is a
ten-year old girl’s silent cry for help and when no one
listened she ran away. Along the road of life, she would
find a creature that listened to her words, someone who
felt her pain, and realized her heartbreak. Then one
morning while standing at the gates of Valhalla, Courtney
met an old horse (Lady Allie Marie), a creature that
understood pain and abuse at the hands of the human
beast all to well. This emotional raw yet sadly accurate
story is scheduled for printing in mid-summer.
Kamwulfe Publishing
To pre-order a copy of Opulent
Flashback e-mail:
novels@themidnighthorseshow.com
Flashback e-mail:
novels@themidnighthorseshow.com
Her Name is Charlie
Oh Charlie!
