Excerpt from "Horizon Dawn" book

And, then…

 

 

…in some future time and space yet to come upon the verdant grassland:

 

Bryan and Tommy rode either side of Sally Ann who sat upright in an English saddle astride her prancing half-Arab steel-grey charger, proud of her “tom-boy” reputation and purposely enhancing the image through attitude, chewing fully three chaws of baseball bubble gum wadded in a knot in her tight jaw. Thinking that one had to “look” the part to pull it off in an effort to keep the “little boys” in line, somewhat, at least, she allowed her nearly fully developed twelve year old legs to be “accidentally” brushed by the skinny knees of her immature friends.

Bryan, riding Desperado, a medium sized, 14.2 hand Sorel Morgan tacked in western gear, had fallen in love with the young beauty, Sally Ann, at the tender age of six, in kindergarten. So smitten was the boy that he told his mother that beautiful Miss Sally Ann would someday, and, none-too-soon, be his bride. That the girl had hardly noticed him in seven years, save for slapping his face just last year when he had tried, unsuccessfully, to kiss her cheek, did not dampen the youth’s enthusiasm; “Endeared” might be the better word. Ah! True love! Forever, the romantic dreamer; a girl could do worse!

Tommy, while certainly interested in aspects of the fairer sex, simply enjoyed being along for the ride. Oh! “If” Sally Ann ever showed even the slightest interest in him; Well! Now, that would be a different story. For now, though, he delighted in touching her leg with his inexperienced knobby knee, liking the feeling; his real, and, only, love, was Bob-a-Lou, the bay quarter horse which he now rode. Tommy could ride like the prairie wind and had his own “rep” as the county champion barrel racer. Horse and boy made a good team; the trophies proved it.

Dale and Josey brought up the rear, trailing some dozen yards, or so, behind. Riding side by side, holding hands, stealing quick, short kisses as they bounced along bumping teeth to lips; even at a walk, the task of intentional romance was difficult, at best, astride a horse though each readily endured the pain concluding that the emotional passion-pleasure fully outweighed any inconvenience of a few bruises. Josie’s mom, a worldly woman on her third marriage, often teased the young girl about the discolorations; the two were friends and, Mom, of all people, understood “Love!”; she held the credentials, and practice, to prove it. The young pair was love sick as yearling deer experiencing their first frost-filled fall frolic foible adventures, together

 Matched Western-cut red and white checkered shirts complimented with long red neckerchiefs at the throat, tails flying in the wind, Levi jeans held in place with tooled western- motif belts adorned with large, gaudy silver buckles and western cowboy boots of the same design identified the pair as surrogate twins; they even rode a matched pair of Mor-Ab horses, half Morgan and half Arab in breed, each silver-grey in color. A “matched-pair---of…four!

The five were lifelong friends and often visited the old town of Van Gangenburg, long ago destroyed by a fiercesome conflagration engulfing the tiny burg. Local legend had it that a woman-scorned had nurtured her hurt into deep depression, finally taking her own life as she sat before a fancy French dressing table imported from the Continent just for her narcissistic fulfillment vain desires to contemplate her “once”-beauty.

Controversy had raged among the locals as to the cause of the fire; the legend grew with each succeeding generation. As with all such lore, no one knew the exact truth of the matter. Still, the tale, along with the myriad theories and various scenarios, made for good conversation. Though Van Gangenburg, the town, had disappeared from existence, the county had taken the old cattle baron’s sir-name for a proper designation in the new state over one hundred years since.

“Yee-ha!” Came a wild Indian yell of challenge from Sally Ann while the advance trio was still a good hundred yards from the ancient site as she spurred her steed into a flat out gallop; the horse loved to run and took up the cue with abandon. Sally Ann’s intent: beat the others to the bon fire site beckoning just ahead on the lonesome prairie.

Bryan lost only a second and his animal had jumped forward in anticipation of the game even before Sally Ann’s ringing challenge had died on the blowing grassland winds. Tommy, less athletic than his friends, nearly lost his seat in the saddle when his compadres bolted. Proud just to remain astride the mount, he regained his precarious balance and quickly raced across the prairie sod in a futile attempt to overtake the pair. Josie took the opportunity to grasp Dale’s horse’s bridle reins and pull both animals to a stop. While their trio of friends raced to the ancient site, she pulled Dale close and kissed him passionately; neither cared who might win the vacant race. Ten minutes later, the pair came proudly trotting into the bonfire site. Both smiled!

The ride home for the kids would take the better part of a full hour. Once the group had congregated on the burned and abandoned Van Gangenburg location, they tethered their mounts in the river willows after removing the bridles and fitting the animals with colorful nylon halters and sturdy lead ropes with stout brass latches being sure to securely tie the restraints low on the trees in order to give the horses room to forage while the group began gathering deadfall for a bon fire which they laid on the sandy shore of the river; Sally Ann might be female, but she jumped right in, not about to let her male counterparts outdo her efforts. Soon, the five-some had a raging camp fire blazing; Sally Ann had brought hot dogs, buns and marshmallows in her saddle bags. With long, springy willow branches cut from the river willows, the members enjoyed a feast, joking and laughing, telling tales of the wild-west ruins upon which they stood.

Spreading blankets they had removed from behind the fancy-tooled western saddles on the thick grass of the prairie floor close enough to garner the warmth of the blaze, the group settled in for the traditional stories and relaxation of entertainment which had become habit on their oft chosen visit to the shadow-remains of the old ghost town. Seated close together on the lee side of the bon fire which the steady wind blew toward the river’s sand beach, precluding another “accidental” blaze on the slim remnants of the town, Tommy opened the discussion. Each already knew the coming conclusion their friend would eventually come to, but, the boy would take his own sweet time in getting there. Each roasted another hot dog or marshmallow, waiting.

“Seems,” the youth opened around a mouthful of charred hot dog, “Old Ezra van Gangen owned the better part of the west back there in the olden times. He had two sons, one, who became the town sheriff, after the old man founded the town of his own name, and the suave and sophisticated younger boy who ran the bank, had a fine house and a beautiful, and, young, French wife. Hyatt, the fair-haired heir-apparent to the fortune and Adrian, the lawman, never had any love lost between them…” Tommy paused for proper effect as the “captives” giggled.

Exaggeratedly swallowing another tasty morsel, he continued, eyes wide in anticipation.

“They did share, however, a romantic love-interest in Hyatt’s adorable wife, Byrne…”

With friend Tommy’s flare for fine storytelling, the audience foursome settled in for an entertaining tale of local history; smiles adorned the innocent faces of the assemblage. Bryan and Sally Ann sat close, but, with a respectful void between them; Dale and Josey played a passionate game of “kissy-face” which soon led to the pair wrapping themselves in their shared blanket. Ah! Young love! Indeed!

Several additional foraging trips along the river bank for additional drift wood-fuel during which time the sun had drifted to its sleeping loft in the west and an alabaster pale full moon had early-risen above the eastern horizon line to highlight the silver-thread ripple-shine of the river’s surface reflecting willow silhouettes and to glow-light the yellow prairie grass like the orb of a golden angel halo brought realization that the ride home would be delayed…somewhat.

No complaint found issue among the assemblage; adventure beckoned, if one simply sought!!