Cougar Ledge

By Brent Nelson

Everyone suffers from the trial and tribulation of life. This is a story of a man determined to keep a promise made to his dying wife, the greatest tribulation of all. Tyrell Carson is forced to travel thousands of miles and endure years of loneliness only to suddenly be thrown into troubles not of his own making. But he is a survivor that protects the innocent while solving a mystery long forgotten. And perhaps, falling in love again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456759469

Brent Nelson

Brent Nelson has been telling stories his entire life. From early childhood, he never tired when listening to members of his close family and their friends spin tales of fun and adventure. His parents encouraged all of their children to read a variety of books and stories that developed imagination and a desire to learn. From that time on he constructed stories of his own to share with his immediate family and friends. Then, later in life, his wife and family requested that he preserve the stories, and the transition from storyteller to story writer was complete. The School of Life was perhaps his best teacher. Although taking every Literature and Creative Writing class available throught his schooling, he never appreciated the art of writing until his first year at Iowa State university. Many of his instructors challenged him to paint pictures in the mind of any reader by using words. And may times that meant giving meaning to life itself. His stories are meant to be entertaining without the over use of gruesome violence. And honest sincere love and affection are present in his stories without the blatant use of unnecessary sexual innuendo. His work can be shared by the whole family, just for fun.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 1

The lighting was bad and made it more difficult to be six hundred miles from home just to keep a three-year-old promise to a dying woman. Amid the dull roar of the crowd, this dedicated and determined man pursed his lips together and silently shook his head from side to side wondering if all this effort was worth it. In the middle of this huge assembly he felt alone, yet compelled to keep that obligatory promise. There was no second-guessing or change of mind.

This tall Iowa rancher patted the neck of his horse and said, Well old man, here we go again. Most of the focus of the crowd was upon the activity in the middle of the arena, as it should be. One horse and rider would show their talent, or lack thereof. Whether it was running a certain reining pattern, or cutting a selected calf from the rest of the heard, it is in the arena that the testing was made manifest to all. To Tyrell Carson, the acidic fragrance of old sawdust and even older soil mixed with the scent of uncountable show animals blended together and resurrected a very familiar image from deep in his memory.

The mental photograph of a show arena located in the middle of any old livestock pavilion, comes quickly to his mind. As he awaits his turn, Tyrell looked up to see the ancient roof trusses several hundred feel long, built not of modern steel, but of ancient solid oak. Like aged mechanical fingers, the trusses are reaching toward the steel support ring in the middle of the huge expanse from the heavy concrete block walls some sixty feet high, that make up the perimeter of the building. The roof looks as if it should have a tall pillar or support in the middle of the arena from the ground up, to keep the whole roof from caving in. Instead, the middle support ring eighty feet off the ground is resting on absolutely nothing. The massive oak timbers are bolted together at the joints by heavy steel plating once painted black, but now showing decades of age and rust. All the way around the pavilion and just below the roofline perimeter there is a halo of pane glass windows located behind the tiered bench seats. The old rusty hinges allow the windows to tilt in at the top and invite the entrance of a gentle breeze to cool anyone watching the arena activity.

However, no matter the design of the buildings, they always seemed to attract people of every type. Some in the crowd are suburban, look-a-like cowboys. They may be decked out with a brand new snap-button western shirt, blue denim jeans, and Stetson hat.

Around their waists, is an authentic leather belt complete with their names tooled on the back. In front there a shinning new silver belt buckle, sometimes suffering under the strain of too many corn dogs. This urban cowboy wardrobe is made complete with a pair of old white basketball shoes that may be very comfortable, but hardly attractive to a true Cowboy’s scrutinizing eye.

In the same crowd there are professional ranchers and horsemen, that appear like ranchers and horsemen from head to toe. These men and women look at the competitions not as entertainment, but as an opportunity to observe the unique abilities of the very best stock horses in the country. And perhaps to buy, sell, or trade animals in order to improve their own herds, and of course, increase the marketability of their own stock.

The crowd is made up of all types of people. Men and women. Boys and girls. Young, as well as older ones. All of whom, when mixed together, make a lively and energetic crowd of horse lovers and well-wishers. Many of them have affection for all types of animals. And at shows like this, they can feel the joy and excitement of seeing what a well-trained stock horse can do. To Tyrell, it seemed odd that a person would pay good, hard-earned money to see what he sees everyday on a working ranch.

At home, he pays no admission fee to work, doctor, and sort cows and calves every day. Most of the time, it is work done outside in the sweltering hot sun, or the cold winter wind and snow, or the relentless rains of spring. Then, with livestock, there is the time and effort spent to feed one end, only to clean up what comes out the other end. That responsibility never stops. Yet, there seems to be something about the work of raising cattle that clinched a tight hold on his heart. Sometimes, after a tough day, he wondered what it would be like to have a city job from 8:00 am in the morning, to 3:30 pm in the afternoon. You simply show up at work a little before 8:00 am and punch the clock, take two or three breaks during the day, and do the work you’ve been given. Then you punch out at 3:30 pm, and go home. It is a done deal. The drawback, at least to Tyrell? It is the same work every day, in the same place every time, and you see the same sad, overworked and underpaid people each and every shift. Boring? Maybe, but they get paid sick days, and vacations and holidays. Ty smiled at himself, trying to recall his last paid sick day or paid vacation, for that matter any vacation at all. For a rancher to be successful, it could not happen that way. No forty-hour workweeks and no time clocks. Just a lot of time.

Ty was now the next rider to enter the arena, and he could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster. He would be the first to admit he was not a showman, and that he would rather be out checking a herd of cows in a wide-open pasture than here. Nevertheless, he had to be here in order to accomplish his goal of making a name for himself and this wonderfully talented horse underneath him. Joe’s Poco Pardon is an American Quarter Horse with a pedigree that Tyrell knew would stand up to anyone’s inspection.

It was Ty’s dream to make everyone in this great Organization take note of his horse’s outstanding ability, endless stamina, and gentle disposition. Then, after proving him a champion, use Poky-Joe as a stallion to improve his own herd and offering a stallion service to those who would wish to improve their herds for a reasonable breeding fee of course. However, it all depends upon what people, the right people, see in this old arena and many of the other show facilities throughout the country. The arena is where proof is offered and collected. The arena is where truly talented horses and riders are given a chance to show their abilities. The arena is where many will try to be winners, but only a few, just a small handful are crowned as champions.

Tyrell knew it would not be easy, not easy at all. Some people might think you slap a saddle on some old cow pony, and you have a winner. However, that is not quite true. A successful horse and rider spend a great deal of money, time and effort into developing the genetic ability some animals are born with. The same principle applies to a person that may be born with an exceptional talent in music or art. That ability would simply be wasted were not time and effort devoted to making that ability blossom and grow. So it is with a good, quality reining and cutting horse. The genetics must be there first and then the training, hours and hours of training. With exceptional talent and practice, you could have a winner, and perhaps a champion worthy of recognition.

As Ty heard the announcer mention his name as the next rider, and Poky-Joe as the next horse, he watched an exhausted and sweating buckskin gelding with a disappointed rider lining up to exit through the same gate Ty was using to enter the arena. The rider briefly caught Tyrell’s eye. Tuff bunch of calves the rider said under his breath. They’re all real skidish, and a little crazy. His face reflected the frustration he felt at not performing as well as he wished. Ty had known that feeling, too many times.

Tyrell was given a list of four calves he was to select one at a time, and then cut or separate them from the rest of the herd according to the rules established by the Quarter Horse Association. The Versatility Ranch Horse Competition has five categories in which each horse must show athleticism and versatility to the best of their ability; Ranch riding, Ranch trail, Ranch cutting, Working ranch horse, and Ranch conformation. Very simply put…the horse and rider work to impress the judges with their skill, talent and ability in each category. The judges will record what they feel are a fair amount of points to be awarded each contestant in each category. One point is the worst and ten points is the very best. Then, the points from each category are tabulated to give the horse and rider their final point count. The man and horse that receives the most points wins the championship for the show.

Ty and Poky-Joe began to gently work their way into the herd, both completely focused. It is as if there were no screaming babies or excessively loud noises, or laughter and talk from the crowd. They ignored every interfering distraction. This team of horse and man want to show the judges that they are the best team here today, just as they have been doing over the last six weeks. As they begin to concentrate on the task, each one knew what their respective assignments were. Tyrell finds the first calf number 112, and then by the use of hand, rein, and leg signals, he instructs Poky-Joe to follow the calf. The rest is up to the horse to single out the calf from the herd, and for Ty to stay stuck to the saddle, helping to balance the intricate moves the big horse will make. As many professional and skilled people concentrate on the intricacies of their work, so will Tyrell and Joe’s Poco Pardon discern what needs to be done to win. They find themselves in a ‘zone’ where there are no other people, sounds, or smells. There is just a small herd of calves being sorted by a horse that absolutely loves his work, and a rider that loves his horse. With tremendous agility, and athletic ability, this amazing animal is able to do everything his owner and friend asks him to do. Everything! Like a cat, he will anticipate each move the calf could make. Quickly to the left, then to the right…back left again and a little more to the left…then a half second pause only to move back to the right in the blinking of an eye.

Over a twenty-minute time span, there were four calves, and four outstanding performances. The results are one more championship trophy along with a small cash prize, and it is time to move on again. Move on to the next town, the next arena, and the next competition. However, this time Tyrell Carson, Poky-Joe, and a dog have no clue as to how their lives will be changed by time and unforeseen events.

Chapter 2

With another show under his belt, Tyrell led Poky-Joe back to his stock trailer to give the big stallion a good rub down and a pail oats to eat. As they walked, the young rancher looked at the landscape of the old fair grounds. Tyrell found himself shake his head in sad amazement at how so many people lack respect for the God given creation shared by all of mankind. Hundreds of small pieces of waste paper and cigarette butts littered the fairground grass, fence lines and parking areas. As strange, odd colored, artificial light from the overhead security light began to replace the warm glow of natural sun light, the waste and litter seemed to look even worse. With the abnormal color of the light, everything looked unnatural and almost gruesome in appearance, as though it were an attempt by some mad scientist to reshape the world as we know it, by using liter and garbage. He thought to himself, Did just one or two people do all of this, or could it be hundreds of individuals making their unthinking and uncaring contributions? Tyrell was saddened to think it was probably the latter,

However, Ty found himself wearing a smile as he was about to be greeted by one of the few friends he had in this world. One brown eye and one that was blue, made this shepherd an odd-looking creature. The dog had been a gift from his father-in-law shortly after they had purchased Poky-Joe from a ranch deep in the Texas panhandle. Ty and his wife were just finishing some chores, when her father drove into the graveled driveway. It was a cold day, and the old man had on a goose-down coat that was trying to wiggle off his chest. The young married couple quizzically looked at him as to say, What in the world are you doing? Without saying a word, he smiled and opened the front of his coat to have the face of a chubby little Australian Shepherd puppy pop out to announce his presence, and to demand a little attention, and something to eat.

Old Jim Barton’s dog had pups about eight weeks ago, and he owed me a favor, so I got pick of the litter, her father said. His old, wrinkled face could hardly contain the ear-to-ear smile that always seemed to make his deep blue eyes disappear under bushy, gray eyebrows. As he scratched the cheek of the puppy, he continued You two need a good stock dog, and I think this one will be the very best.

With that, the old man put an over excited little ball of fur on the ground at the feet of his daughter and son-in-law and they all began to laugh at the little dog as he tried to stand on his hind legs and beg for attention. Seems like he’s a real dancer, the old man said, and then continued with a smile, I think he’s trying to do an Irish jig, even though his roots go back to Australia. Again, everyone laughed as they watched the puppy walk with a waddle, jump, and circle around them.

Then, as if a light had been switched on, Christine said, You know, that might be a good name for him, as she paused to reflect on what should be a proper name for the newest member of the family. What do you think Tyrell? Should we call him Jiggs?" his wife said with that knowing smile he could never refuse.

Ty’s only response was a simple, Sounds good to me."

The memory of that day was one Tyrell brought to mind often because his new wife loved the dog almost as much as she loved Ty. And, Ty’s father-in-law was quite correct. This ugly, lop-eared, and multicolored mutt was one of the best stock dogs in the mid-west, and one of the smartest animals Ty had ever seen. Yes, this multi-colored dog, and the big sorrel Quarter horse with a white blaze and three white socks, proved to be the best friends Tyrell had in the world. And the animals seemed happy to have Ty for a friend as well.

Tyrell had decided to make the old Fair Grounds his home for the night. The show had finished late and he knew the drive to Blackburn, the location of the next show, would be a long and lonely drive of eight hours or more. Ty didn’t mind driving at night, but what was the hurry? He had several days to burn before the show next weekend, so why force himself to drive into the midnight hours. Many of the competitors traveled as he did. A pick-up truck pulling some type of a stock trailer close behind. To cut travel expenses, some of them had living quarters built into the front of the trailer. That was the case with Tyrell. In the front of his trailer, there was a small room that was set up like a recreational camper might be. But it was so very small. It had a kitchen galley complete with a two burner stove and oven. Right next to that, a kitchen sink with hot and cold running water, and a little refrigerator. Then, against the driver‘s side wall was a couch that folded down to make a bed. Directly across the camper to the other side, were the entrance door and a small swivel rocker, and a short sided wood crate with an old horse blanket circled in the bottom. That was the dog’s bed, and Jiggs used it at every opportunity. The unit was made complete by a corner room that contained a bathroom lavatory, shower, and toilet, all of which were so very small, but appreciated. On the other side of that wall there was room for three or four horses, hay, oats and all of the tack needed to get the job done. Everything a traveler could want, except for room to move around. But he had to travel this way. Ty knew he could not afford a fancy hotel room every night. Nor the restaurant food that would only break his bank account and leave him fat like a frumpy old bullfrog.

His old Ford had its share of rust and needed some body work to hide the accidental damage done on the ranch back home in southwest Iowa. He tried not to think of Home too much. He badly wanted to share the victory of winning another show with someone, but with whom? Tyrell did not have any close friend’s out on the road. Many of the competitors were on the same schedule and traveled to the same shows as Tyrell, but really didn’t spend much time around each other. Sometimes he just missed hearing the voice of a friend‘s conversation.

Tyrell found himself wanting to meet a competitor from Idaho named Martin Brock. But Mister Brock preferred to keep himself isolated and went to great lengths to be separated from the other contestants. It was obvious he wanted it that way. He owned and was showing a beautiful palomino filly that was maybe four or five years old, and she was magnificent. Very quick, very agile, and very smart, she was easily the strongest competition Poky-Joe had come up against in each and every show. And to be honest, she had been victorious over Poky-Joe a few times by just one or two points. Ty wondered what her pedigree looked like. Was she still a filly or had she ever had a colt? Were there any other horses like her at home? He had so many questions to ask the old man from Idaho, but everyone seemed to just mind their own business.

Ty dreamed that after the stress and tension of a show, someone would invite everyone over for a barbeque and something cold to drink. They could all sit around and talk, and laugh over any subject at all, and he could ask Mr. Brock about his horses, ranch, and family. Tyrell wanted to be able to just sit and listen to real people tell stories and jokes, just to be able to hear the voice of someone other than a public address announcer. However, on the show circuit, that dream will probably never happen. Maybe it should. With the exception of an occasional Howdy, the competitors really did not socialize much at all. So, some time tomorrow, he would call his brother’s home and tell who ever answered the phone about the first place finish, and where he would be going next, and that he was getting along just fine. Yet, he still missed home.

His brother, Dwight, and his wife Mary, along with their three boys, were about the only family Tyrell had left. At the age of forty-eight, Tyrell’s father had married very late in life. And Ty’s mother was a widowed woman almost ten years younger than her new husband. But they loved each other and were blessed with two sons, Dwight being the older of the two boys by four years. Yes, Mr. Jonah Carson was almost fifty-four years old when Tyrell was born, and quite proud of his wife, two sons, and the 480 acre ranch he had inherited from his father shortly before the beginning of World War Two. It was that same ranch Dwight and Tyrell would themselves inherit, along with another 140 acres of adjoining pasture ground purchased early in the 1950’s. Tyrell’s father passed away at the age of 68 years old, just a few years after expanding the ranch to its present size of 620 acres.

Sadly, just a very few years after his father’s passing, his mother died from what Dwight called a broken heart. It seems to happen that way sometimes. A man and woman fall so deeply in love that life itself, or at least the desire to live, comes to a sudden stop when one of the mates passes away. The two boys could see that happening with their mother, but were powerless to stop her grief. She deeply loved her family, and she knew they loved her in return. But the overwhelming sadness and grief at the loss of her husband, took an inescapable toll on her heart, soul, and health. They buried Ella Carson next to her husband just short of two years after his own death.

Yet as tragic as all of that was, the strongest feeling of being alone came from the passing of Tyrell’s wife of just two and a half years. He had met Christine during a football game while they were both in High School. She attended a small community school about thirty miles away from the school he had been attending. In fact, the two schools were considered arch rivals and had been for quite some time. So, to some of his school buddies, Ty was on the verge of becoming a traitor for showing interest in a girl from another school. But that didn’t bother Tyrell at all, nor did it really bother is friends. Some would say, It was love at first sight, and perhaps it was. All he knew was how he felt when they were together, and he never wanted that feeling to end. They were married right out of High School, less than two years after his father’s death, and began farming and ranching in partnership with his brother.

Christine loved the ranch and the animals. Many had witnessed the outstanding talent she had with the horses. Some people are born with unexplainable abilities, and that was what Christine possessed. She was able to look into the eyes of an animal, any kind of animal, and just know what it was thinking, and how to deal with any problems that could arise. She was also a tremendous help on the ranch, and knew how to train the horses the Carson Brothers used day after day to keep track of the livestock. With over one hundred head of stock cows and their calves, sixty yearling grass calves, and forty to fifty head of beef cattle on feed, at least one person was on a horse every day. Sometimes Tyrell and Dwight would just shake their heads in amazement at the things she could get a horse to do. And, they would sometimes smile at each other when they realized what she had been able to get the two Carson brothers to do as well. She just had a way about her that everyone loved and honestly respected.

However, it seems that when things are going good in this old world, it doesn’t last for long. Within a period of just over five years, Ty saw his father die of cancer, his mother die from heart problems, and his dearly beloved wife of only two and a half years passed away from what the Doctors called a brain aneurism. For some unknown and uncaring reason, a blood vessel in her head had burst and there was nothing that could be done. Somehow, it gave Tyrell a little comfort knowing that she hadn’t suffered very long, but that was were the comfort came to an abrupt end. Only God himself knew how much Tyrell missed his wife. She had been gone now for two years and three months. Perhaps that is why he can’t take off the golden wedding ring she had given him almost five years ago. Everyone tells he needs to move on, but that is very difficult to do. He simply cannot imagine having a life that could equal what he had with Christine.

All of these thoughts and memories pulled from the past made Tyrell Carson feel tired and weary. Yet, he knew he was no quitter and he knew he must keep pressing on. In about five more weeks he will know if all of this effort on the show circuit had been worth it. Win, lose, or draw, he will have fulfilled the promise made to Christine just a few hours before she had died. To keep that vow Tyrell needed to accumulate enough points to qualify for an invitation to the American Quarter Horse Association Versatility Ranch Horse Competition in Los Vegas, Nevada. It is there he wants to make good on his promise. It is there he hoped to show the whole world just how good his horse, Poky-Joe, really is. And it is there he desperately needs to get a firm hold on the next chapter of his life.

Chapter 3

The early morning light had begun to filter through the trees on the east side of the Fair Grounds. The long green grass, litter and all, was showing signs of heavy dew. Tyrell wanted to leave early and drive part of the way to Blackburn during the cool of the day. He was hoping to find a farm, or a ranch, or even a state park that would allow Poky-Joe, Jiggs, and himself a place to relax and enjoy a small respite from the arena and the crowds.

Sometimes the noise and confusion of hundreds of people searching for fun and enjoyment gets a little old. It was like those attending the shows somehow were looking for a source of entertainment that would give them the happiness they were not able to gain themselves, but unknowingly did it by pulling a little of the joy and happiness away from the contestants they were watching. Many truly dedicated actors literally practice and rehearse and then perform until their life’s energies are almost gone. Why? some might ask? From Tyrell’s point of view, they were willing to give of themselves simply for the joy it gave others. To those actors and actresses, the show was everything. But to Tyrell, perhaps there had been too many shows. Poky-Joe didn’t show any signs of stress in the arena, and there was no sourness as some called it. On the contrary, the horse seemed to enjoy his time in the arena playing with the calves.

Perhaps it was Tyrell himself that was getting show-ring sour. He just needed a little time. He needed a place to make camp were Poky-Joe could roll around in fresh green grass, or maybe in a little bit of mud. After all, that’s what horses do from time to time. And Jiggs would enjoy getting to explore some new sights, fragrances, and maybe even chase a rabbit or two.

Yes, Ty really needed to stretch out and soak up some of the power and energy the mountains always wanted to share with him. He needed to be recharged by the snowcapped peaks and their rugged beauty. He didn’t have to touch the snow or feel the cold. But somehow the tremendous energy the mountains possess, transfused into him the extra energy he needed to keep up the pace. With five long weeks of horse shows and crowds, it was still a long race to run, and he needed all the help he could get.

He pulled out the well used atlas and once again traced his way from his present location to Blackburn, Wyoming. Some of the trip would be on new four lane state and federal highways. But about half the trip would be on older two lane roads that are normally smooth but occasionally rough, and always under construction. Yet, it was the two lane roads that Ty preferred to travel if he wasn’t in a hurry or behind schedule. The two lane highways often have more character, adventure, and even a certain level of peacefulness the super highway systems are missing.

He enjoyed seeing peaceful well kept farmsteads with big gardens and perhaps a youngster or two playing within a protective fenced in area. And the occasional clusters of ranch buildings that were at one time the foundation stones of growth for the American frontier and the American rancher. As he drove towards his next destination he would sometimes wonder, ‘What adventures lay awaiting our arrival, hidden in the shadows of time, silently and patiently waiting for someone to befriend or befoul.

Soon he was ready to go with a place for everything and everything in its place. That was how his father taught him, and that is how Tyrell wanted to be. The engine of the old Ford sounded good as he gave it a few minutes to warm up. Just as he was ready to put it into first gear, he looked up to see Mr. Brock and that yellow mare out for an early morning walk. The new day yellow sun vibrantly flashed across her golden body, white mane and tail. Even at halter, on a relaxing stroll she moved with grace and agility. The words, What a horse! escaped his lips as he watched her walk away. He slowly pointed the old truck toward the exit gate when a couple of other contestants out for a morning walk waved either a, Good-By, because he was leaving, or a good morning Hello, it was hard to say. Regardless, he waved back knowing full well he would be seeing them again in four or five days.

He followed the map directions just as he had written them down. Then, about two hours later as he was about to turn onto a two lane state highway from the four lane free-way, he saw a old billboard advertising a small town grain elevator that specialized in animal feed and grain along with farm equipment and supplies. Hutch’s Farm Supply was the name of the business in the town of Two Rivers which was just eleven miles ahead. Tyrell knew he couldn’t pack all of the supplies from home that he and his two friends would need for the ten week tour. And realizing that he would need to restock feed for Poky-Joe sometime soon, he thought to himself, ‘Maybe this would be a good time.’

As he approached the little town, he appreciated the postcard perfect picture that was unfolding before his eyes. Running parallel to the roadway was a resplendent stream, forty to sixty feet wide, winding gently along the valley floor which was lined with huge old cottonwood, birch, ash, and oak trees. Even from his truck he could hear the sound of sparkling clear water rushing over the rapids and waterfalls carved into the streambed by thousands of years of use. The foothills were dotted with patches of grass, groves of trees, and outcroppings of rock. There were some fences that contained a few cattle, and occasionally protected a small patch of corn or hay. But behind all of this, in the far distance to the west, the Rocky Mountains loomed over the land as a vigilante watchman that never left his post. Ty always enjoyed his visits to the mountains, and it seemed he never grew tired of seeing them. It is true that he lived in the rolling flatlands of the Midwest, and he loved the beauty his home provided. Yet there was something captivating, even stimulating about the breathtaking and inspiring Rocky Mountains.

His old pickup lost some speed as it powered up to climb the steep grade of the road. And as he topped the hill a small town appeared right in the middle of a beautiful valley. The same good sized stream that had been along side of the road was also the wandering stream that divided the town in half. At the city limits, the highway turned away from the river to the north-west, and made its way past the west side of the town. There, at the junction of the highway and the town’s main street on the south side of the road was Hutch’s Farm Supply.

Across the road to the north was a combination barber shop/hair solon, with a saloon across the next street to the east. One business designed to make a person look better, and the other to help make a person think they look better. Then, to complete the picture, a small grocery store, two or three empty buildings, and a modern looking building that housed a Doctor’s office and a small health clinic. The whole business area was surrounded by forty to fifty homes. As he turned into a gravel parking area, he could see that the Main Street led to an old bridge which crossed the river. On the other side of the water were many more quaint houses, some large and some small, but most of them appeared to have been in place for many decades to say the least. Another section of business type buildings bustling with activity completed the town.

Hutch’s Farm Supply consisted of an old granary complete with eight silver storage bins forty to fifty feet high and a grain elevator leg some one hundred feet to the top. It was all designed to move feed and grain to and from each bin with augers and conveyors. The whole complex reminded Ty of the feed storage facilities many small towns back home would use. Perpendicular from the grain leg there was a building that protruded south, and had huge black letters, OFFICE. It was built about four feet above ground level, and had several heavy wooden steps for access to the office door.

Tyrell tried to park out of the way of traffic. It was easy to see that the parking area could get busy and he didn’t want to cause anyone problems. He saw a spot under a big cottonwood tree and welcomed the shade it provided. The air temperature was a pleasant 78 degrees, but out in the sun he knew the trailer would quickly start to get excessively warm. The parking area was surrounded by many different types of farm tillage equipment, some new and other pieces well used. Mixed into the display was equipment for feeding and watering horses, cattle, and sheep. There was even an automatic unit for feeding pigs. For the first time in a long time, Ty felt a little bit at home because some of the equipment displayed was the same equipment he and Dwight used back in Iowa. As he walked toward the office he noticed several pickup trucks and cars that probably belonged to the local citizenry. It felt good to walk a bit, so he took his time to reach the building and climb the steps.

When he opened the door, the fragrance of processed livestock feed, baled hay, and really old brewed coffee met his nostrils. To his left, a group of four older men were huddled around a checkerboard. All of them looked to the door in unison to see who had just walked into the room. Tyrell tipped his hat out of respect and quickly said a simple, Good morning gents. With that, they all responded with a, Howdy or, Hello of their own, as they watched him walk up to a sales counter. The front of which was covered with flyers advertising a variety of farm and home auctions or sales sometime in the future. Behind the counter stood a tall man with slightly graying hair and a well trimmed mustache to match. He wore an apron that covered an area from his neck to about his knees with a series of pockets across his chest holding several pens, pencils, and various items needed during a normal day’s activity. Hutch had been recording information in a ledger which lay open on the counter when he looked up to see Tyrell walking towards him.

Good morning friend, the proprietor said with an honest face and a pleasant smile.

Tyrell responded with a smile of his own and said, Howdy…beautiful day isn’t it? The grey haired man accepted the greeting and renewed his smile by saying, Yes it is. I would like to get out and enjoy it a little bit more myself. New in town aren’t you?

Ty responded by saying, Just pulled in.

Well then let me be the first to say, Welcome to Two Rivers. My name is Clarence Hutchcroft, but my friends just call me Hutch. If there is anything I can do for you, just let me know.

As a matter-of-fact, I am looking to buy some good feed oats, some cracked corn, and some good horse hay, if there is any to be found, Ty replied. From the corner of his eye, Ty could see the checker game had abruptly come to a complete halt.

A short portly man they called Dub about seventy years of age, quickly spoke up and said, You won’t find any better feeding oats than what ol’ Hutch has to sell.

Then the man they called Doc sitting across the checker table said with a friendly taunt, Dub, are you saying that because you raised and sold those oats to Hutch?

With a smile Dub quickly countered with, Absolutely, the best oats I ever raised.

Doc teasingly bantered back, Well, I wouldn’t even feed those oats to my old goat?

Again, the portly man named Dub quickly countered, Doc, you don’t even have and old goat!

Quickly, the quiet, short man leaning against the wall said, Doc’s wife married one. With that, all four men broke out with laughter as Tyrell and Hutch joined right in.

Mr. Hutchcroft politely said, Let me introduce you to four of Two Rivers’ favorite sons. The man that raised the oats you might buy is Dub Lane, and his opponent across the table is Doc Jackson. Behind him is Tiny Pilling, and standing next to Tiny is Oakie Kelly. Tyrell said he was grateful for the introductions and then gave him his name as well.

What ya got in that trailer out there? Dub Lane asked.

Just a horse and an old mongrel dog, Ty said.

Looks to me like those are Iowa plates on that old Ford. Are you from Iowa? questioned Doc Jackson.

Yep, said Ty. Just passing through on our way to a horse show up in Blackburn next weekend.

You sure don’t mind driving a long way for a horse show do ya? replied Dub Lane.

Well, he’s a very special horse and it is a very special show, said Tyrell.

Playing a hunch, Hutch asked, Are you fixing to end up in Las Vegas next month?

A little amazed, Ty tipped his hat back a little and quickly replied, Yes sir, I am.

The conversation stopped as the old men contemplated what had been said. Then Ty asked Mr. Hutchcroft’s permission to see the oats and corn before he purchased them.

Absolutely, and it is a smart buyer that will check out things like that, said Hutch. The grey haired man hollered out a back door that opened into a warehouse, Hey Luke! Come here a minute.

In just a few seconds, a young red headed kid about sixteen years old walked into the office room. Yes sir? he said with a grin. Hutch told him to show Tyrell a sample of anything he wanted to see. Right this way, the young man said as he welcomed this new customer to follow him. It was refreshing for Tyrell to see a confident and energetic young man who knows what is expected of him and is willing to do his job without complaint or excuses.

The quality of the feed oats, corn, and hay exceeded Ty’s expectations. And he quickly arranged for the purchase of three hundred pounds of oats, one hundred pounds of cracked corn, and a dozen bales of some very good horse hay at a very reasonable price. As Hutch was preparing the work order for his helper, Tyrell asked if he knew of anyone in the area that might have a small corral or pasture they would let him rent or borrow for three or four days. Tyrell mentioned he would like to find a small piece of ground that he and the horse and the dog could use for a little rest and relaxation. Perhaps his horse could even find a blade of grass to nibble.

Even before Hutch could respond, Oakie Kelley eagerly said, Believe I can help you out their son.

With an approving look on his face Hutch said, Yes, that little corral down by the old railroad right-of-way might work out good for you.

Oakie quickly asked, Would you want to see it?

Thank you, I would, responded Ty with a note of relief at finding something that would get Poky-Joe’s feet on some dirt rather than rubber trailer mats and sawdust.

Then Hutch said, Maybe while we’re getting your order ready Oakie could take you across the river to see what the place looks like.

Ty said, I sure would be grateful, if you don’t mind. As Mr. Kelly and Tyrell were leaving, Doc Jackson said under his breath and with a smirk on his face, To bad that corral fence never got painted.

Oakie Kelly stopped in his tracks, and with a slightly perturbed look on his face said, I’ll get around to that one of these days, don’t you worry.

Doc said in reply, You’ve been saying that for almost three years now, and it still isn‘t done, and once again the room erupted in laughter no doubt at Mr. Kelly’s expense.

Chapter 4

As Tyrell followed Mr. Kelly out the door, both men were still smiling at the sarcastic humor the four old friends had displayed.

Don’t pay too much attention to them, Oakie Kelly snickered and then continued, About all they have to do all day is play dominos or checkers and make jokes about everyone and everything. He went on to explain that he and his three friends had grown up together and there were only a couple of years or so that separated them in age. They had all gone through elementary, junior high, and high school at the same time, and the girls they married had all been born and raised right here in the Two Rivers area. So these men knew each other very well, and it had been that way for over sixty-five to seventy years. The quartet were all retired now, and from Tyrell’s perspective, seemed to be enjoying their retirement and continued time together.

Oakie quickly said, Why don’t you crawl into the cab of my pickup, and I’ll take you down to the corral for a quick look-see.

Ty answered back, That will be just fine, but can I bring my dog along? Sometimes he can see, hear, and smell things that I can‘t.

Sure….no problem at all, replied the old man.

With that Ty looked over to his truck and trailer to see Jiggs standing in the bed of the truck with his front paws up on the side just waiting for Ty to say, Come on! Tyrell gave the command, and the shepherd instantly jumped to the ground, landing as a butterfly would gently come to rest on a spring flower. Then with a quick burst of speed, the dog was at the feet of his master and friend in less than a second awaiting his next command.

Here, let me put the tailgate down so he can ride in the back, Oakie said.

No need for that, as Ty patted the top of the gate with his hand. In the blink of an eye, Jiggs jumped from flat footed on the ground up and over the gate into the spacious eight foot long truck bed with little effort at all.

In blanked astonishment, lifting his hat and scratching his head, the old man said, Why…. that ain’t no dog! That’s a white-tailed deer that looks like a dog! The old man paused, then said, He won‘t bite me will he?

No sir. I don’t think there is a mean bone in his body, but don’t try to walk up to my horse unless the dog isn’t around. He is very protective of his friends. In fact, I think he likes the horse more that he does me! Ty replied.

How do I get him to know me? The old man eagerly asked with a smile.

Tyrell said, Just hold out you hand and let him sniff your scent. Then if he turns his head slightly to the side, reach over and scratch his neck or cheek and you will be his friend for life.

Mr. Kelly did just as Tyrell had suggested. Jiggs looked at the old man, then back towards Ty as if to ask permission and cautiously leaned over to smell Oakie’s hand. Then after a second or two, Jiggs tilted his head and enjoyed the affectionate scratching the old man willingly provided.

He’s a smart one, isn’t he? Oakie said with a genuine warm smile, Sure ain’t much to look at, but he has a good heart and he’s a smart one for sure. After a few more friendly strokes of Jigg’s neck, he started using both hands to seal the new friendship that had just begun. Then he continued, We had a border collie for quite a few years, but when she finally died, we just never got a dog to replace her. As past memories began to surface in his mind, he quietly said to himself, Maybe we should get another dog….

Well sir, Ty began to