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Opulent Abyss - Chapter 1
When my ears finished processing the words I never thought I would hear, the words I never want to hear again all I could do was
doubled over and dropped to one knee. It was as if someone kicked me right between the legs. I saw an image. I saw a vision of
someone ratcheted with grief, paralyzed with fear and defenseless to stop the aggressive and re-occurring event that played like a
video loop in my head over and over again shamefully. Senseless, unimaginable and forever haunting, I kept telling myself no one could
do this. No one could be this cruel. No decent man would do this to a young child. But someone did and as I listened I became short of
breath, my face turned flush with pain as I felt for a place to sit or lay down. Over the next several moments all I could do was fight
to hold back my tears. They were tears for a child that did not deserve this treatment, this pain and this brutal introduction to life.
Then my emotions turned to revenge. I wanted so desperately to have twenty minutes alone with this creature that walks on two legs.
I wanted him to understand pain and justice. Although, I fought to hold back my emotions and my rage, a part of my heart was nearly
torn out, because I could not believe what I was just told by my friend County Deputy Sheriff, Thomas Longo. And that was the
beginning of a fifteen-year odyssey that would end at the gates of heaven for one child whose journey through life was far too painful
and far too short.
When Tim Walsh first heard the story he was left speechless. Not because of the complexity and reprehensible nature of the issue,
rather the depth and duration of the suffering that would follow as the result of one horrible act perpetrated on a defenseless child.
When Deputy Sheriff, Tom Longo, vividly explained the series of events that occurred over the past five years, Tim Walsh became
sick at his stomach. His internal temperature rose to near boiling point. He wanted to stand and walk away in shame refusing to believe
that a man could do such a terrible thing. In a matter of only a few minutes his emotions progressed into rage then eventually into
hate. At that precise moment he wanted justice, not that which is dispensed by the liberal courts on lost souls and wayward adults
absent of scruples in this country today, but he wanted even handed justice as Shakespeare wrote, he wanted to castrate that bastard
with a dull hack saw blade with rusty edges. He wanted to enjoy his pain; he wanted him to suffer a deeply humiliating event while
another human gained joy from his suffering as he did for nearly five long years. That would be biblical indeed Tim thought: a simple
eye for an eye, and those were his only thoughts. And yet as feared, the liberal courts so deemed this piece of white trash as someone
worthy of a second chance and in need of compassionate therapy. So with a wave of the highly polished wooden hammer, the type Kings
& Queens might have used in the old days, it was so ordered and now this man is provided three meals a day and a warm place to sleep
at night while the child he abused is left with a lifetime of pain and doubt. Every night as he sleeps in his warm bed, the child he abused
is left to live on the streets and find a life void of trust and understanding. Is that indeed justice or just another way of saying, “Look
at me I am so compassionate and understanding.” That evening while sitting in his favorite chair positioned in a far corner of the main
barn, Tim Walsh realized his fate and as of now it looked very promising. However, beginning in the morning it would become a road
filled with pain and disbelief, of broken promises and the search for time lost, and end with a bitter spirit far darker than he could
have dreamed of when this odyssey all began one sunny Tuesday morning.
The next morning began with a quiet ray of sunlight as it entered through the windows of his old and simple farmhouse. As it grew in
strength and brightness, a new day was born, but Tim had no idea this day would live in his heart until the end of his time. When he
awoke to the alarm clock setting, his eyes filled with large, brightly illuminated and very digital numbers, 0530 to be exact. There was
no indication initially that this would be a special day or a day to remember far off into the mystic fog that covered the eastern
pasture. Now sitting up in bed, he moved his legs to the floor. Feeling the pain and conflict deep inside his old body, he rubbed his eyes
a few times. Since his transition to manual labor and on the advice of his personal physician and good friend Dr. Lucy Shannon, Mr. Walsh
now began every new day with a series of stretching exercises married to a few quiet moments. When finished and feeling looser, he
smiled and stood up and began walking into the bathroom to prepare for the day’s events.
Today was as most days on a working horse farm, filled with joy and dashes of fleeting pain, but today, now that was a far different
story. For today was the beginning of a new life for a few chosen horses. First on the docket this morning was a series of rescues of
several horses whose owners had lost their way. Followed by a long awaited exercise session for one old mare they called Lady Allie
Maria. And finally but not lastly, Mr. Walsh so dearly hoped and prayed for a far better day and a far better outlook than he saw
yesterday at the local Sheriff’s department. No, that was a day Tim would like to forget. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning and
in time he would find himself in the middle of a struggle for the heart and soul of a child. A special child who would come to his farm one
morning looking for love and affection and seeking to learn the ways of her hero’s -- Equus. So with a careful smile and a good brushing,
Mr. Walsh started to the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee. While standing at the stove waiting for the mineral water he now used
to fill his new French Press coffee maker, he thought of all the yesterdays and wondered how many more would he see before his time
was over. With a smile and a half-hearted grin his mind switched back to the task at hand, the heating of the special water he used in
his selected coffee maker. Now this water was special, it was gathered from the mountain streams that ran through the farm and
carried a highly alkaline balance of assorted minerals and all the rest was left to nature and that was perfect for offsetting the acidic
nature of a good cup of coffee each and every morning.
Up until now Tim Walsh’s life did not progress without ceremony and fan-fare nor reflection or any stated purpose. He was one of those
individuals who after college and the military found his destiny feeding the big corporate machine known as capitalism. He, as so many
of his time, was in a constant state of flux. Whereas, once upon a time he traded a part of his soul and dignity each month for a few
pieces of silver and the promise of eternal financial gratuity at the end of his life. That is providing he walked the dreaded path and
paid a price in blood and integrity. In accordance, he would, as so many of his generation did, go to work and look to the future and
wonder where did all those wonderful and unrealistic dreams end up that he carried with such honor, tenacity and disdain for the so
called establishment? Or perhaps those dreams have been sitting just over the horizon, or just around the bend of life waiting for a
kind soul with a brighter spirit to call them back into the present. Or maybe they were better served remaining where they now rest,
just over the horizon and only his far distant dreams of a life that could have been with different choices. Although interesting and
somewhat stimulating, today of all days was not relegated for sitting around pondering the vast and ever frequent number of mistakes
he made during his far too many years on this earth. Rather, today was like every other day for those who call farms and ranches
throughout this country their homes and horses their friends and key elements of their families. No, today was another day of hard
work, naturally grown food, and indulging in the company of some of the finest humans in the territory. And for that privilege, Tim
Walsh was eternally grateful and considered himself far to blessed and honored for this lifetime. Today was a day when all his
extended family, no blood connection implied or inferred, would come to work and they as a team would begin another day tending to the
many rescued horses and domestic creatures who called this piece of land, all sixteen thousand and twenty-two acres located in
northeastern Wyoming in Crook County near the Black Hills National Forrest that boarded the great state of South Dakota, their home
and final resting place.
When Tim finally reached the kitchen this morning, he realized just how lucky he was today and everyday. Standing alone, reflecting on
how he arrived at this place and at this time in his life he now openly admitted to all concerned, he finally has the perfect life. Today,
it is a life filled with good friends from both the human and Equus species. Although with the exception of one Ms. Harley Reynolds, he
would consider the friendship factor is more heavily weighted from the latter, for they are the kinder species by design and not
through attrition or preconceived notions of individual gain or self- promotion. It is a far different life than what he gave away after
so many years of corporate life. A former life rich in monetary gain, materialistic collections and numerous short-term romances based
on deception and canards, rather than feelings from the heart and of the soul. No, today is not the day or the time to reflect on the
past, not even his opulent past. In part because he still had many good years ahead of him and he hoped when the time comes to leave
this earth and this life, then and only then, will he sit down and evaluate or call to justice his existence and experiences and then
determine his grade as a human who occupied time and space on this planet and this country.
With a smile and one final quick stir of his morning coffee, now steeping a few moments past the required five minutes in his decadent
French Press coffee maker. With authority and purpose, Tim pushed the plunger handle down as instructed and turned the top to the
open position. With absolute confidence and dedication, he poured his first of far too many fine cups of Columbian coffee and took his
first sip. With a smile and a thought dancing through his mind he re-calculated and spoke clearly with conviction:” What a fine
performance for a man who holds a masters in mechanical engineering.” While standing at the kitchen window, he was in full view of the
more vocal of his herd of horses, at least all the geldings and a few of the standing stallions. In that position, they could see Tim as
every one now began moving into position as if they have a timer in their heads and knew the routine all to well. For when Mr. Walsh
fools around excessively on occasion some mornings, the geldings begin to let him know of their displeasure by whinnying, raising one
foot and holding it in the air for a series of seconds. Or they all engage in a natural choirs of low and thunderous nickers, all delivered
to let him know it is time to start preparing their breakfast – my kind sir. And as usual, this morning his prize gelding, Mr. Walsh’s
number one boy, was waiting for him to get the “Show On The Road” and deliver his and all the remaining horses their breakfast. With
the luxury of reflection now concluded and neatly stored until again tomorrow morning at the same time, it is time to make his way to
the barn and begin a new day. So with two cups of coffee in hand, Tim Walsh opened the back door and began the slow and rather short
walk to the barn where he would find his top hand. She was a good friend, and the love of his life. And as usual, she was waiting for him
as she did every morning at this time just prior to all the remaining farm hands began to arrive for another day’s work.
Ms. Harley Reynolds is by all accounts one of the loveliest young and highly talented women in the three county territories in everyone’s
opinion. But then again, everyone knew Mr. Walsh carried a well-disclosed and natural bias for this young woman. It was a natural bias
developed over the past several years and all began the day she walked into Valhalla and asked if she could learn the ways of Equus.
Over the years, she has been more of a daughter to the old man than a hired farm hand. Some said it was because of her exceptional
physical features while others commented on her tall and well-developed frame. On face value, Harley Reynolds stands at nearly five
feet and ten inches in her bare feet. Now add a pair of good cowboy boots and a set of rodeo spurs with the big and loud rowels – well
as all the young men say, “Katie, bar the door.” And of course she was noted for those piercing emerald green eyes. Eyes no doubt she
inherited from her mother, a mother who came from Ireland itself and eyes that were given to her by a Leprechaun who called County
Cork his home in the old country. And he, the Irish Leprechaun named Donnigan O’Malley instructed her to carry them well until a fair-
haired daughter was in the making then give them to her and remind her of their origin and her passion for time and life.
At first glance and upon further review by any well seasoned humans with an eye for natural beauty, it was obvious that only one
conclusion could be surmised: “She is everything a young man could ask for and everything an old man dreams of having as his daughter.”
Her fiery strawberry blond hair stood out as a beacon to all who dared gaze upon her features. And yes, she was that lovely and that
stunning of a young woman. With a bright smile and friendly hello, her and Tim Walsh began the day as he handed her a cup of freshly
brewed coffee flavored just the way she likes it. And for a brief and fleeting moment, Mr. Walsh would look at her and wonder how
long will it take until she meets the right young man and falls deeply in love. How long will she remain at the farm and how will he ever
find another to fill her shoes. The short answer, he won’t. Harley Reynolds is truly one of a kind and one in a million, and that is why she
is called Miss Harley Reynolds, Tim Walsh’s number one human, his general manager of the farm and the one little girl who captured his
old and far more tired heart so long ago when she first came to the farm and asked for the heart of Equus.
So with a fresh cup of coffee, an apple cut into small pieces and a few natural Chinese herbs in his pocket as usual, Tim Walsh turned
and walked over to the horses as Harley and him began the process for morning feeding. After their morning breakfast, they would all
head out to the pastures and begin the process of being natural horses enjoying life on a special farm they called home. Two hours
passed and it was now time to gather their equipment and load up and head off to meet Tommy Longo, the local deputy Sheriff, who was
leading a rescue mission this morning down in Weston County. It appears some of the so-called kinder and more influential horse people
in the area decided the tactics that were employed on the three horses in question this morning were far to excessive and the courts
concurred. With a quick call from the County Sheriff and then another call to the farm from Deputy Longo, Harley and the old man
were loaded and on their way to help save three lost souls from a fate worse than death and a far darker life they were not intended
to endure. When the team pulled into the farm/ranch proceeded by the county sheriff, the situation did not’t look all that disturbing.
When Hartley and Tim walked around the corner of a make-shift barn and saw the three horses standing alone tied to a fence with no
food and water, everything changed and emotions began to run high and tight. By now the owners, a man and wife team, had come out of
their stately and well designed home garnished in all the conveniences of the elite crowd, who referred to themselves as trend-setting
horse people. As they approached the team they were quick to question the two very large and imposing Deputies as to what this
intrusion into their civil liberties was grounded in. As Deputy Longo stepped forward and was addressing the verbal assault from the
female member of the partnership, Harley and Mr. Walsh began placing a soft halter on the first gelding. As they were leading him out
of the mud and on their way to the awaiting trailer and a new home surrounded with loving and caring humans, the male partner stepped
forward. He proceeded to physically protest the extraction of his horses with a highly spirited verbal rant and demanded that Harley
and Mr. Walsh stop. Of course, he was met with a court order demanding his compliance. Upon further review, he began again in
earnest with some form of protest related to the decadent 1960’s era sighting numerous statutes that held no relevance until Deputy
Longo handed him another legal document. With that document came an order. He was so instructed to step back or face contempt of
court charges – now!
Well, lets say the man’s better side of reasoning must have released a series of flash photographs of him standing behind county bars in
a colorful orange prison jumpsuit if he continued his line of argument. With good common sense firmly in control of his emotions and
tongue, he stopped his verbal objections then stood back and off to the side as Harley walked the second horse, an old mare, into the
trailer. Appropriately and some what in earnest, with a full head of steam up and cooking at a high boil, the wife, a college educated
self-proclaimed expressionist and no doubt a per-ordained expert in everything known to mankind and beyond began her dissertation
into her civil rights with, “Who in the hell do you think you are.” As she directed her anger to young Harley Reynolds personally?” In a
heartbeat, Tim Walsh, the ex-Marine Captain stepped in as Deputy Longo spun her around and put the cuffs on her. With that exercise,
her husband took one step forward and made an aggressive move towards one of the deputies and that was all it took. In a flash, he
was down on his back and out cold with one strong right cross that came from Tim Walsh, compliments of his United States Marine
Corps training and far to many months in the jungles of Southeastern Asia. With the situation now under control, Mr. And Mrs. Trendy-
Yuppie were safely shackled both hands and feet then loaded into the cruiser and on the way to county lock up. Harley and Tim finished
loading the remaining gelding then pulled out of the driveway and turned due north on Wyoming State Highway 14 and headed for home.
May I add with a comfortable smile on Harley’s lovely face and a glimmer in her eyes, she was all smiles as her little heart no doubt
felt vindicated and was now at peace for the long ride home. Because in her heart she feared no man as long as Tim Walsh was near and
that is a totally different story.
The ride back to the farm was long but fulfilling. Due in part to the successful rescue they accomplished, and the knowledge that three
more horses, who did not ask to live in shame and be treated as materialistic things, were on their way to a new home, a home fit for
Gods and reserved for Kings and Queens. Then as they passed the Black Hills National Forrest all conversations between these two
souls fell into deep silence. It was as if both Harley and Mr. Walsh were lost in their individual thoughts, their pain and their emotions
of a time so long ago. Thoughts of a once proud people who called this land their special place. Thoughts of how their honorable life style
and peaceful existence with nature prevailed until progress came knocking. Thoughts of the how they endured their own shameful trail
of tears. And thought of a beast unleashed on the land that took its toll in blood and spirits. Progress, it is no more than another face
of greed, synonymous with the quest of the almighty dollar. And when greed stepped in it left it’s calling card, the slaughter of nearly
all the life giving animals that roamed this part of the country. The senseless destruction of the land, the destruction of a time
honored way of life for its people, the senseless slaughter of their ancestors and the implementation of a policy that left scars on the
land so deep that even Mother Nature can not erase. And for what, all in the name of progress and in the process its native people
were relegated to second-class citizens. No, it was a hard view to look at, a sight filled with pain and suffering from those who only
asked to live in peace and follow the ways of their forefathers. It was a hard sight to understand because there were no alternatives,
no clever words parsed to perfection to describe the events other than rape and destruction at the hands of the white European
settlers all in the name of something that is no longer important. With a heavy heart, Tim Walsh tried to look forward and begin
planning the events that awaited him and Miss Hartley when they return to the farm. It did not’t work this time – it never does.
As the mile markers passed by in secession, he could not’t help to gaze over at young Harley Reynolds, for she too was a young woman
with trust and patience’s and a spirit that was completely in tact. She too was a lovely child and one that developed far to rapidly. Yet
in some reflections, she looked far beyond her years, but emotionally she was still only a young girl with no formal experience behind
her in matters of the heart. And yet, all Tim could do was think of a monster, the same monster who molested the young child he was
told about yesterday and if the opportunity presented itself, the monster could do the same to this young woman, Miss Harley and for
that Tim Walsh had no answer except – over my dead body. Make no mistake about it, Tim Walsh dearly loved Hartley Reynolds, and
over time she became the daughter he never could have and so most humans understood one promise: It would not be a Phi Beta Kappa
move to try and hurt, emotionally challenge or physically attempt to confront Miss Harley Reynolds and live the next day to speak about
it in this lifetime. The short answer, she was now and forever considered not only family, but also part of his history and the essence
of the balance of his life.
No, life can be hard and all too often far too nasty. So as they approached the farm Tim smiled a becoming smile at Harley and then
told her how much he enjoyed her company and all the work she does at the farm. With a smile and touch on his arm, she said, “You have
a good heart Tim and for that I will always remember my time at the farm learning your ways and the ways of a Whisperer.” The
balance of the day progressed on course until the end of the evening arrived. The entire team finished evening chores and Mr. Walsh
said good night to Harley. As he reflected on the past, he remembered when she would finish work and then leave the farm and go back
to her loving Mother’s home. Mrs. Reynolds, before she passed away, was the foundation of Harley’s life. She was her daughter’s soul
and spirit and for that, Tim Walsh could only ask God at night to watch over this child who came so close to going over to the dark side.
Harley Reynolds was his special young woman, a woman who came into his life and set him on a good course. It was a course filled with
love and devotion to those in need of a second chance at life and for those who carried the genetic coding of a species rich with
character but capable of destruction. And when the day finally comes and he must say goodbye to her forever, he will smile a becoming
smile, give her a fond and loving hug goodbye. At least outwardly, he will put on a happy face, but inside, deep within his old heart Tim
Walsh will feel one more part of his soul as it leaves his body and passes over to the dark side. He will miss her so much and yet he will
realize for the final time that he will never find another to take her place. But of course, her happiness is the most important part of
there friendship and for that Mr. Walsh will smile and hopefully dance at her wedding because he once stood beside a perfect little
angel and she touched his soul as no other human could for nearly thirteen wonderful years.
When my ears finished processing the words I never thought I would hear, the words I never want to hear again all I could do was
doubled over and dropped to one knee. It was as if someone kicked me right between the legs. I saw an image. I saw a vision of
someone ratcheted with grief, paralyzed with fear and defenseless to stop the aggressive and re-occurring event that played like a
video loop in my head over and over again shamefully. Senseless, unimaginable and forever haunting, I kept telling myself no one could
do this. No one could be this cruel. No decent man would do this to a young child. But someone did and as I listened I became short of
breath, my face turned flush with pain as I felt for a place to sit or lay down. Over the next several moments all I could do was fight
to hold back my tears. They were tears for a child that did not deserve this treatment, this pain and this brutal introduction to life.
Then my emotions turned to revenge. I wanted so desperately to have twenty minutes alone with this creature that walks on two legs.
I wanted him to understand pain and justice. Although, I fought to hold back my emotions and my rage, a part of my heart was nearly
torn out, because I could not believe what I was just told by my friend County Deputy Sheriff, Thomas Longo. And that was the
beginning of a fifteen-year odyssey that would end at the gates of heaven for one child whose journey through life was far too painful
and far too short.
When Tim Walsh first heard the story he was left speechless. Not because of the complexity and reprehensible nature of the issue,
rather the depth and duration of the suffering that would follow as the result of one horrible act perpetrated on a defenseless child.
When Deputy Sheriff, Tom Longo, vividly explained the series of events that occurred over the past five years, Tim Walsh became
sick at his stomach. His internal temperature rose to near boiling point. He wanted to stand and walk away in shame refusing to believe
that a man could do such a terrible thing. In a matter of only a few minutes his emotions progressed into rage then eventually into
hate. At that precise moment he wanted justice, not that which is dispensed by the liberal courts on lost souls and wayward adults
absent of scruples in this country today, but he wanted even handed justice as Shakespeare wrote, he wanted to castrate that bastard
with a dull hack saw blade with rusty edges. He wanted to enjoy his pain; he wanted him to suffer a deeply humiliating event while
another human gained joy from his suffering as he did for nearly five long years. That would be biblical indeed Tim thought: a simple
eye for an eye, and those were his only thoughts. And yet as feared, the liberal courts so deemed this piece of white trash as someone
worthy of a second chance and in need of compassionate therapy. So with a wave of the highly polished wooden hammer, the type Kings
& Queens might have used in the old days, it was so ordered and now this man is provided three meals a day and a warm place to sleep
at night while the child he abused is left with a lifetime of pain and doubt. Every night as he sleeps in his warm bed, the child he abused
is left to live on the streets and find a life void of trust and understanding. Is that indeed justice or just another way of saying, “Look
at me I am so compassionate and understanding.” That evening while sitting in his favorite chair positioned in a far corner of the main
barn, Tim Walsh realized his fate and as of now it looked very promising. However, beginning in the morning it would become a road
filled with pain and disbelief, of broken promises and the search for time lost, and end with a bitter spirit far darker than he could
have dreamed of when this odyssey all began one sunny Tuesday morning.
The next morning began with a quiet ray of sunlight as it entered through the windows of his old and simple farmhouse. As it grew in
strength and brightness, a new day was born, but Tim had no idea this day would live in his heart until the end of his time. When he
awoke to the alarm clock setting, his eyes filled with large, brightly illuminated and very digital numbers, 0530 to be exact. There was
no indication initially that this would be a special day or a day to remember far off into the mystic fog that covered the eastern
pasture. Now sitting up in bed, he moved his legs to the floor. Feeling the pain and conflict deep inside his old body, he rubbed his eyes
a few times. Since his transition to manual labor and on the advice of his personal physician and good friend Dr. Lucy Shannon, Mr. Walsh
now began every new day with a series of stretching exercises married to a few quiet moments. When finished and feeling looser, he
smiled and stood up and began walking into the bathroom to prepare for the day’s events.
Today was as most days on a working horse farm, filled with joy and dashes of fleeting pain, but today, now that was a far different
story. For today was the beginning of a new life for a few chosen horses. First on the docket this morning was a series of rescues of
several horses whose owners had lost their way. Followed by a long awaited exercise session for one old mare they called Lady Allie
Maria. And finally but not lastly, Mr. Walsh so dearly hoped and prayed for a far better day and a far better outlook than he saw
yesterday at the local Sheriff’s department. No, that was a day Tim would like to forget. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning and
in time he would find himself in the middle of a struggle for the heart and soul of a child. A special child who would come to his farm one
morning looking for love and affection and seeking to learn the ways of her hero’s -- Equus. So with a careful smile and a good brushing,
Mr. Walsh started to the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee. While standing at the stove waiting for the mineral water he now used
to fill his new French Press coffee maker, he thought of all the yesterdays and wondered how many more would he see before his time
was over. With a smile and a half-hearted grin his mind switched back to the task at hand, the heating of the special water he used in
his selected coffee maker. Now this water was special, it was gathered from the mountain streams that ran through the farm and
carried a highly alkaline balance of assorted minerals and all the rest was left to nature and that was perfect for offsetting the acidic
nature of a good cup of coffee each and every morning.
Up until now Tim Walsh’s life did not progress without ceremony and fan-fare nor reflection or any stated purpose. He was one of those
individuals who after college and the military found his destiny feeding the big corporate machine known as capitalism. He, as so many
of his time, was in a constant state of flux. Whereas, once upon a time he traded a part of his soul and dignity each month for a few
pieces of silver and the promise of eternal financial gratuity at the end of his life. That is providing he walked the dreaded path and
paid a price in blood and integrity. In accordance, he would, as so many of his generation did, go to work and look to the future and
wonder where did all those wonderful and unrealistic dreams end up that he carried with such honor, tenacity and disdain for the so
called establishment? Or perhaps those dreams have been sitting just over the horizon, or just around the bend of life waiting for a
kind soul with a brighter spirit to call them back into the present. Or maybe they were better served remaining where they now rest,
just over the horizon and only his far distant dreams of a life that could have been with different choices. Although interesting and
somewhat stimulating, today of all days was not relegated for sitting around pondering the vast and ever frequent number of mistakes
he made during his far too many years on this earth. Rather, today was like every other day for those who call farms and ranches
throughout this country their homes and horses their friends and key elements of their families. No, today was another day of hard
work, naturally grown food, and indulging in the company of some of the finest humans in the territory. And for that privilege, Tim
Walsh was eternally grateful and considered himself far to blessed and honored for this lifetime. Today was a day when all his
extended family, no blood connection implied or inferred, would come to work and they as a team would begin another day tending to the
many rescued horses and domestic creatures who called this piece of land, all sixteen thousand and twenty-two acres located in
northeastern Wyoming in Crook County near the Black Hills National Forrest that boarded the great state of South Dakota, their home
and final resting place.
When Tim finally reached the kitchen this morning, he realized just how lucky he was today and everyday. Standing alone, reflecting on
how he arrived at this place and at this time in his life he now openly admitted to all concerned, he finally has the perfect life. Today,
it is a life filled with good friends from both the human and Equus species. Although with the exception of one Ms. Harley Reynolds, he
would consider the friendship factor is more heavily weighted from the latter, for they are the kinder species by design and not
through attrition or preconceived notions of individual gain or self- promotion. It is a far different life than what he gave away after
so many years of corporate life. A former life rich in monetary gain, materialistic collections and numerous short-term romances based
on deception and canards, rather than feelings from the heart and of the soul. No, today is not the day or the time to reflect on the
past, not even his opulent past. In part because he still had many good years ahead of him and he hoped when the time comes to leave
this earth and this life, then and only then, will he sit down and evaluate or call to justice his existence and experiences and then
determine his grade as a human who occupied time and space on this planet and this country.
With a smile and one final quick stir of his morning coffee, now steeping a few moments past the required five minutes in his decadent
French Press coffee maker. With authority and purpose, Tim pushed the plunger handle down as instructed and turned the top to the
open position. With absolute confidence and dedication, he poured his first of far too many fine cups of Columbian coffee and took his
first sip. With a smile and a thought dancing through his mind he re-calculated and spoke clearly with conviction:” What a fine
performance for a man who holds a masters in mechanical engineering.” While standing at the kitchen window, he was in full view of the
more vocal of his herd of horses, at least all the geldings and a few of the standing stallions. In that position, they could see Tim as
every one now began moving into position as if they have a timer in their heads and knew the routine all to well. For when Mr. Walsh
fools around excessively on occasion some mornings, the geldings begin to let him know of their displeasure by whinnying, raising one
foot and holding it in the air for a series of seconds. Or they all engage in a natural choirs of low and thunderous nickers, all delivered
to let him know it is time to start preparing their breakfast – my kind sir. And as usual, this morning his prize gelding, Mr. Walsh’s
number one boy, was waiting for him to get the “Show On The Road” and deliver his and all the remaining horses their breakfast. With
the luxury of reflection now concluded and neatly stored until again tomorrow morning at the same time, it is time to make his way to
the barn and begin a new day. So with two cups of coffee in hand, Tim Walsh opened the back door and began the slow and rather short
walk to the barn where he would find his top hand. She was a good friend, and the love of his life. And as usual, she was waiting for him
as she did every morning at this time just prior to all the remaining farm hands began to arrive for another day’s work.
Ms. Harley Reynolds is by all accounts one of the loveliest young and highly talented women in the three county territories in everyone’s
opinion. But then again, everyone knew Mr. Walsh carried a well-disclosed and natural bias for this young woman. It was a natural bias
developed over the past several years and all began the day she walked into Valhalla and asked if she could learn the ways of Equus.
Over the years, she has been more of a daughter to the old man than a hired farm hand. Some said it was because of her exceptional
physical features while others commented on her tall and well-developed frame. On face value, Harley Reynolds stands at nearly five
feet and ten inches in her bare feet. Now add a pair of good cowboy boots and a set of rodeo spurs with the big and loud rowels – well
as all the young men say, “Katie, bar the door.” And of course she was noted for those piercing emerald green eyes. Eyes no doubt she
inherited from her mother, a mother who came from Ireland itself and eyes that were given to her by a Leprechaun who called County
Cork his home in the old country. And he, the Irish Leprechaun named Donnigan O’Malley instructed her to carry them well until a fair-
haired daughter was in the making then give them to her and remind her of their origin and her passion for time and life.
At first glance and upon further review by any well seasoned humans with an eye for natural beauty, it was obvious that only one
conclusion could be surmised: “She is everything a young man could ask for and everything an old man dreams of having as his daughter.”
Her fiery strawberry blond hair stood out as a beacon to all who dared gaze upon her features. And yes, she was that lovely and that
stunning of a young woman. With a bright smile and friendly hello, her and Tim Walsh began the day as he handed her a cup of freshly
brewed coffee flavored just the way she likes it. And for a brief and fleeting moment, Mr. Walsh would look at her and wonder how
long will it take until she meets the right young man and falls deeply in love. How long will she remain at the farm and how will he ever
find another to fill her shoes. The short answer, he won’t. Harley Reynolds is truly one of a kind and one in a million, and that is why she
is called Miss Harley Reynolds, Tim Walsh’s number one human, his general manager of the farm and the one little girl who captured his
old and far more tired heart so long ago when she first came to the farm and asked for the heart of Equus.
So with a fresh cup of coffee, an apple cut into small pieces and a few natural Chinese herbs in his pocket as usual, Tim Walsh turned
and walked over to the horses as Harley and him began the process for morning feeding. After their morning breakfast, they would all
head out to the pastures and begin the process of being natural horses enjoying life on a special farm they called home. Two hours
passed and it was now time to gather their equipment and load up and head off to meet Tommy Longo, the local deputy Sheriff, who was
leading a rescue mission this morning down in Weston County. It appears some of the so-called kinder and more influential horse people
in the area decided the tactics that were employed on the three horses in question this morning were far to excessive and the courts
concurred. With a quick call from the County Sheriff and then another call to the farm from Deputy Longo, Harley and the old man
were loaded and on their way to help save three lost souls from a fate worse than death and a far darker life they were not intended
to endure. When the team pulled into the farm/ranch proceeded by the county sheriff, the situation did not’t look all that disturbing.
When Hartley and Tim walked around the corner of a make-shift barn and saw the three horses standing alone tied to a fence with no
food and water, everything changed and emotions began to run high and tight. By now the owners, a man and wife team, had come out of
their stately and well designed home garnished in all the conveniences of the elite crowd, who referred to themselves as trend-setting
horse people. As they approached the team they were quick to question the two very large and imposing Deputies as to what this
intrusion into their civil liberties was grounded in. As Deputy Longo stepped forward and was addressing the verbal assault from the
female member of the partnership, Harley and Mr. Walsh began placing a soft halter on the first gelding. As they were leading him out
of the mud and on their way to the awaiting trailer and a new home surrounded with loving and caring humans, the male partner stepped
forward. He proceeded to physically protest the extraction of his horses with a highly spirited verbal rant and demanded that Harley
and Mr. Walsh stop. Of course, he was met with a court order demanding his compliance. Upon further review, he began again in
earnest with some form of protest related to the decadent 1960’s era sighting numerous statutes that held no relevance until Deputy
Longo handed him another legal document. With that document came an order. He was so instructed to step back or face contempt of
court charges – now!
Well, lets say the man’s better side of reasoning must have released a series of flash photographs of him standing behind county bars in
a colorful orange prison jumpsuit if he continued his line of argument. With good common sense firmly in control of his emotions and
tongue, he stopped his verbal objections then stood back and off to the side as Harley walked the second horse, an old mare, into the
trailer. Appropriately and some what in earnest, with a full head of steam up and cooking at a high boil, the wife, a college educated
self-proclaimed expressionist and no doubt a per-ordained expert in everything known to mankind and beyond began her dissertation
into her civil rights with, “Who in the hell do you think you are.” As she directed her anger to young Harley Reynolds personally?” In a
heartbeat, Tim Walsh, the ex-Marine Captain stepped in as Deputy Longo spun her around and put the cuffs on her. With that exercise,
her husband took one step forward and made an aggressive move towards one of the deputies and that was all it took. In a flash, he
was down on his back and out cold with one strong right cross that came from Tim Walsh, compliments of his United States Marine
Corps training and far to many months in the jungles of Southeastern Asia. With the situation now under control, Mr. And Mrs. Trendy-
Yuppie were safely shackled both hands and feet then loaded into the cruiser and on the way to county lock up. Harley and Tim finished
loading the remaining gelding then pulled out of the driveway and turned due north on Wyoming State Highway 14 and headed for home.
May I add with a comfortable smile on Harley’s lovely face and a glimmer in her eyes, she was all smiles as her little heart no doubt
felt vindicated and was now at peace for the long ride home. Because in her heart she feared no man as long as Tim Walsh was near and
that is a totally different story.
The ride back to the farm was long but fulfilling. Due in part to the successful rescue they accomplished, and the knowledge that three
more horses, who did not ask to live in shame and be treated as materialistic things, were on their way to a new home, a home fit for
Gods and reserved for Kings and Queens. Then as they passed the Black Hills National Forrest all conversations between these two
souls fell into deep silence. It was as if both Harley and Mr. Walsh were lost in their individual thoughts, their pain and their emotions
of a time so long ago. Thoughts of a once proud people who called this land their special place. Thoughts of how their honorable life style
and peaceful existence with nature prevailed until progress came knocking. Thoughts of the how they endured their own shameful trail
of tears. And thought of a beast unleashed on the land that took its toll in blood and spirits. Progress, it is no more than another face
of greed, synonymous with the quest of the almighty dollar. And when greed stepped in it left it’s calling card, the slaughter of nearly
all the life giving animals that roamed this part of the country. The senseless destruction of the land, the destruction of a time
honored way of life for its people, the senseless slaughter of their ancestors and the implementation of a policy that left scars on the
land so deep that even Mother Nature can not erase. And for what, all in the name of progress and in the process its native people
were relegated to second-class citizens. No, it was a hard view to look at, a sight filled with pain and suffering from those who only
asked to live in peace and follow the ways of their forefathers. It was a hard sight to understand because there were no alternatives,
no clever words parsed to perfection to describe the events other than rape and destruction at the hands of the white European
settlers all in the name of something that is no longer important. With a heavy heart, Tim Walsh tried to look forward and begin
planning the events that awaited him and Miss Hartley when they return to the farm. It did not’t work this time – it never does.
As the mile markers passed by in secession, he could not’t help to gaze over at young Harley Reynolds, for she too was a young woman
with trust and patience’s and a spirit that was completely in tact. She too was a lovely child and one that developed far to rapidly. Yet
in some reflections, she looked far beyond her years, but emotionally she was still only a young girl with no formal experience behind
her in matters of the heart. And yet, all Tim could do was think of a monster, the same monster who molested the young child he was
told about yesterday and if the opportunity presented itself, the monster could do the same to this young woman, Miss Harley and for
that Tim Walsh had no answer except – over my dead body. Make no mistake about it, Tim Walsh dearly loved Hartley Reynolds, and
over time she became the daughter he never could have and so most humans understood one promise: It would not be a Phi Beta Kappa
move to try and hurt, emotionally challenge or physically attempt to confront Miss Harley Reynolds and live the next day to speak about
it in this lifetime. The short answer, she was now and forever considered not only family, but also part of his history and the essence
of the balance of his life.
No, life can be hard and all too often far too nasty. So as they approached the farm Tim smiled a becoming smile at Harley and then
told her how much he enjoyed her company and all the work she does at the farm. With a smile and touch on his arm, she said, “You have
a good heart Tim and for that I will always remember my time at the farm learning your ways and the ways of a Whisperer.” The
balance of the day progressed on course until the end of the evening arrived. The entire team finished evening chores and Mr. Walsh
said good night to Harley. As he reflected on the past, he remembered when she would finish work and then leave the farm and go back
to her loving Mother’s home. Mrs. Reynolds, before she passed away, was the foundation of Harley’s life. She was her daughter’s soul
and spirit and for that, Tim Walsh could only ask God at night to watch over this child who came so close to going over to the dark side.
Harley Reynolds was his special young woman, a woman who came into his life and set him on a good course. It was a course filled with
love and devotion to those in need of a second chance at life and for those who carried the genetic coding of a species rich with
character but capable of destruction. And when the day finally comes and he must say goodbye to her forever, he will smile a becoming
smile, give her a fond and loving hug goodbye. At least outwardly, he will put on a happy face, but inside, deep within his old heart Tim
Walsh will feel one more part of his soul as it leaves his body and passes over to the dark side. He will miss her so much and yet he will
realize for the final time that he will never find another to take her place. But of course, her happiness is the most important part of
there friendship and for that Mr. Walsh will smile and hopefully dance at her wedding because he once stood beside a perfect little
angel and she touched his soul as no other human could for nearly thirteen wonderful years.
Shameless Journey
A Kiss To Build A Dream On
The Standing Gelding
His Name is ACE...
His Name is ACE...
Shameless Journey
This is the story of a young child (Courtney Rogers)
who felt the cruel hand of the human beast for five
long and painful years by her stepfather. 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), a creature
that understood pain and abuse at the hands of the
human beast all to well. From that first moment
they met, and the very instant the young child
walked through the gates of the old farm,
unknowingly she took the first step in rebuilding
her trust in humans. With the help of an old horse
and one old human (Tim Walsh), who saw hope and
brilliance buried beneath the suffering written in
her eyes, her new life begins to unfold where she
learns how to love again. With the help from
another old horse (Loki) she begins to let her
painful past settle to the bottom of her broken
heart where only the passage of time will heal this
deep and ugly wound. This is an all too familiar
story that unfolds over an eighteen-year period in
the life of this child. At its core, it is a powerful
story of how Courtney Rogers overcame the mental
and physical scars of an act she did not invite nor
did she deserve. Rather, why she chose the four
hearts to help her start over, to help her rebuild
the bridge to trust through hope and honesty.
Shameless Journey is a testament to the healing
power of a bright spirit. A spirit that was nearly
destroyed and it is a window into the darker side
of the male species. But in the end, it is an act of
unselfishness, a demonstration of willpower, and a
show of courage by one little girl who was forced to
grow up long before her time. As time passes, the
young child (Courtney Rogers) comes to understand
the gentle nature of life through the eyes of
someone who offers her unconditional love with no
demands and no expectations everyday. This is an
emotional story of time & chance and the enduring
spirit, for when given the tools and circumstances,
it exhibits an uncanny willingness to heal itself and
travel a road of choice and free will. This is a story
of a young girls pain, but more importantly, this is a
young woman’s gift as she reaches for heaven and
finds four friends until the end of time.
This is the story of a young child (Courtney Rogers)
who felt the cruel hand of the human beast for five
long and painful years by her stepfather. 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), a creature
that understood pain and abuse at the hands of the
human beast all to well. From that first moment
they met, and the very instant the young child
walked through the gates of the old farm,
unknowingly she took the first step in rebuilding
her trust in humans. With the help of an old horse
and one old human (Tim Walsh), who saw hope and
brilliance buried beneath the suffering written in
her eyes, her new life begins to unfold where she
learns how to love again. With the help from
another old horse (Loki) she begins to let her
painful past settle to the bottom of her broken
heart where only the passage of time will heal this
deep and ugly wound. This is an all too familiar
story that unfolds over an eighteen-year period in
the life of this child. At its core, it is a powerful
story of how Courtney Rogers overcame the mental
and physical scars of an act she did not invite nor
did she deserve. Rather, why she chose the four
hearts to help her start over, to help her rebuild
the bridge to trust through hope and honesty.
Shameless Journey is a testament to the healing
power of a bright spirit. A spirit that was nearly
destroyed and it is a window into the darker side
of the male species. But in the end, it is an act of
unselfishness, a demonstration of willpower, and a
show of courage by one little girl who was forced to
grow up long before her time. As time passes, the
young child (Courtney Rogers) comes to understand
the gentle nature of life through the eyes of
someone who offers her unconditional love with no
demands and no expectations everyday. This is an
emotional story of time & chance and the enduring
spirit, for when given the tools and circumstances,
it exhibits an uncanny willingness to heal itself and
travel a road of choice and free will. This is a story
of a young girls pain, but more importantly, this is a
young woman’s gift as she reaches for heaven and
finds four friends until the end of time.
Kamwulfe Publishing