The Quest Begins

     The life of the old cowboy had drifted for years, like the water in that river, controlled only by the course of the land. He had allowed his path to be controlled by life’s events around him. Battered and torn by his fate, he found himself this morning over a cold fire, out of coffee and deep in the wilds of western Texas. Where had all the years gone? So many trails... so many tears... He saddled and mounted that old mare, and taking a final glance across the Rio Grand he took full stock of his life. At this age, and without focus, fate was forcing him to assay his belonging and life and found them both short...

     No coffee, down to a half a bag of beans, less that half a box of cartridges, this rig and his trail pack and that damn dog. Not much to show for punching cows all his life, working for the brands. But he had the mare, best mountain horse a man could own, and there sat the old fathful dog, so he couldn’t call himself alone. But then when the loneliness of this desolate country overflowed his emotions, he could not help but reflect; God had certainly built this big bend country for desolate men...

     As always his thoughts returned to the one love he had ever allowed into his life so many years ago. As he looked around him, he seemed to see her vision. And at that moment he began to plan the quest. It was less than 90 miles to the northwest, along the White Mountains, where he had captured his mare so many years ago, and if that herd still ran wild and free on the high desert then he had a mind to capture a sting of the wild ones and build him a stake. That vision always before him was to become his focus once again...

And with God’s blessings and the efforts of his fine horse the path to capture that wisp in the lonely night now lay ahead...

~ © 2003-2010 David L. Griffith ~


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