Rest in Peace on the Yegua

By Sheryl Kleinschmidt

The Yegua Creek has been a defi ning character in shaping many lives in and around what is now Lee County, Texas. Sometimes a lady, sometimes a harlot, she can sustain life or recall it at her pleasure. She has been witness to many events in her lifetime--some mundane, others phenomenally bizarre. However, the Yegua has yet to reveal one of her darkest secrets--one she has kept hidden beside her murky waters for many, many years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456741655

Sheryl Kleinschmidt

Sheryl Kleinschmidt still lives in Glen Rose, Texas, where rugged hills, lakes and rivers constantly beckon her outdoors. Besides writing, she enjoys hiking and has recently taken up kayaking. Other activities include bird watching, playing piano for local churches, and spending time with her family.

Book preview

Rest in

PEACE

on the Yegua

Sheryl Kleinschmidt

missing image file

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 Sheryl Kleinschmidt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse      3/11/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4165-5 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4166-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4167-9 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011902376

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

COVER PHOTO CREDIT

The cover photo is of the actual Yegua Creek—the setting in this book. Maggie Beasley of Yegua Art Works, Lexington, Texas, is the photographer.

Contents

Book Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Book Dedication

Rest in PEACE on the Yegua is dedicated to the memory of my parents, Margaret and Arnold Kleinschmidt, long-time residents of Lee County, Texas, educators and ranchers. They taught me the value of a good education, were my moral compasses, and gave me a rich appreciation of and for the land.

Chapter One

Dark and light shadows played along the edge of the scrub brush as a lone figure crept along the central Texas tree line outlining Yegua Creek. He was beautiful, unusual, and supposedly extinct in Lee and surrounding counties.

The first time I saw him was last fall, just a few weeks after my long-time husband, Heb, passed away. His presence was a mystery, and little did I know the impact this strange creature would soon have on my life.

Lobo was definitely a wolf, much larger than the marauding coyotes that harass the local ranchers and farmers. He had thick white fur with intermittent black markings along his face and back. The strange thing was that no one besides my four-year-old grandson and I could see him.

***

Heb and our good friend, Bob Sims, had started up a small auto dealership in Austin, Texas, back in the early 60’s. Bob’s failing health had forced him into early retirement, requiring me to take over his position at the office. Now it was time for Heb and me to think about retiring and make some of our long-awaited dreams come true.

Having both been raised in rural areas, we knew we wanted to live in the country and still be close enough to drive into Austin until we were ready to sell the dealership or turn it over to one of the children.

Fate smiled upon us when a client from Taylor came into town one spring morning and walked into the office to say hello. After the usual niceties, I mentioned the fact that Heb and I were ready to find a small piece of property, raise a few cows, some chickens, and retire.

"Wull, I know a feller from Lexington who might be willin ta sell some of ‘is property jist offa 112 west a town a piece. Wife is ill and ‘e no longer has the time ta manage all ‘is acreage. Hadn’t run cattle on the place in years. If’n I member correct, the Yegua runs through that particler piece a land. Should be really nice. Wouldja like fer me ta givim a call?

"Where in the heck is Lexington and what’s a Yegua?

Small little town ‘bout 45 miles east a here. Mostly farmin and ranchin there— good schools, and not a lot else. Yegua’s the creek runs through an aroun mosta the county. Makes fer rich bottom land. Was told wild horses usta go there when they was foalin. Yegua is Spanish fer mare if I got my story right.

Sounds interesting. That may be just what Heb and I are looking for. Sure, give your buddy a call and let me know what he says.

***

A few weeks later, on a Saturday morning, Heb and I loaded up a picnic lunch and an ice chest and took the interstate north out of Austin. Finding the turnoff to Taylor, we drove another 25 minutes and then turned southeast onto FM 112. To our delight, the scenery was truly beginning to look country at this point. The winding road brought back childhood memories with every twist and turn. Bluebonnets were abundant and interlaced with Indian paintbrushes, primroses and buttercups. Eventually, we found our exit and drove another two miles down a gravel county road which soon narrowed down to one lane of dirt.

As we rounded the last turn and found the 911 address marker on the gate I gasped, Heb, would you look at that!

Well, Darlin, don’t get your hopes up. That old cabin may not be worth the money or the trouble. I’m not too optimistic at this point.

The hunter’s cabin was situated in a clearing surrounded by water hickory, oak, pecan, beautyberry, and a sprinkling of cedar. We realized that most of the land would need clearing to be of much use as range land, so we decided to take a look at the cabin first.

Upon entering the front door, we came face-to-face with an old iron-stone fireplace. The mantle was no more than a simple cedar log which had been scraped and polished smooth. Scattered on top were some spent rifle cartridges, a few coins and an old book of matches. Ashes from the last tenant’s fire had not been removed and a few oak leaves which found their path down the chimney sat amongst them.

Wooden floors were throughout the three-room building which had an abundance of windows on each wall. Although there was no indoor bathroom facility, running water had been piped in from a deep well outside and the kitchen was fully functional.

Thirty minutes and many a-hems later, Heb seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Other’n some neglect and a few traces of mice, I couldn’t find any major problems. We’ll definitely have to add a bath and another bedroom for company, but I can easily do that myself with a little help from Bob.

Hand in hand, we walked out back to inspect the old barn and found it to be in acceptable condition. Then we walked down to a swollen Yegua Creek. Wow, looks like we’ll have a good water supply for irrigating that garden you want to put in. Wonder if it ever goes dry? Heb said to no one in particular.

After staring at the muddy water for awhile, we then traced its shores north to a large clearing in the woods. There we discovered an overgrown, but good-sized tank which teemed with frogs, dragonflies and a couple of sleepy turtles resting on a rotten log. A huge grin came over my husband’s face as he squeezed my hand. Looks like I might be finding myself some time to fish, Joanie! he exclaimed.

***

On the drive back to Austin, Heb must’ve had second thoughts for he scratched his nose, rubbed the back of my neck and drawled, Darlin, whata ya think? Are we just two old farts with pipe dreams or can we actually pull this off?

Heb, I think we can do whatever the Good Lord allows us to do and we’d be fools not to take advantage of this opportunity. In reality, we both were so tired of living and working in the city and fighting the Austin traffic that if we were offered a tree house in Thailand and a permanent diet of rice we would’ve taken it.

For the next couple of months, Heb and I worked at the dealership during the week and out at our land on weekends. The little cabin in the woods was slowly becoming our retirement home. Light fixtures were updated, wood floors refinished, and a water softener put on the well. Finally, our bathroom was complete, ending weeks of midnight trips to the outhouse.

A path was cleared down to the Yegua, and many evenings found us sitting around a campfire. Heb and I would discuss the day’s work as we watched minnows catch mosquito larvae on the water’s surface, which had dwindled significantly since the spring rains.

One evening I sat gently poking the fire’s dying embers with a stick and contemplating all of the life-changing events taking place in our lives. Out of the blue I ventured, Heb, are you happy out here—really happy?

My burly husband ran a hand through his bushy red hair and then scratched his stubble of a beard before reaching out to hold my hand. Joanie, this is the best decision you and I’ve made together in years. These will be the best years of our lives, just you wait and see.

It may have just been the magic of the moment, but the stars began to twinkle a little brighter and the woodsy air began to smell a little sweeter. Silently sensing our complacency, the Yegua’s waters sang a mesmerizing tune, completely drawing us into her confidence.

***

During this time, Heb and I kept our retirement plans a secret from our kids. After all, they were married, lived out-of-state and really didn’t need to worry about what Mom and Dad had done. But we had run out of time. Summer would soon be moving into fall and with that came the holidays. Holidays were a big issue with our clan and Thanksgiving was always at Pop and Nana’s house. Christmas might be spent with in-laws or out-laws, but Thanksgiving belonged to the Johnstons.

Before we could change our minds, (or the kids found out) Heb and I put our Austin home up for sale. Downsizing also meant garage sale, so that was also in the works. Ironically, even with a bad economy, our house sold unbelievably fast, the moving van was in the driveway, and we were no longer urban dwellers!

Heb drove his Ford Ranger and I drove my Explorer out of our city driveway for the last time. Followed closely by the van driver, we were soon out of town and turning onto Highway 79. It was quite unsettling to look in the rearview mirror and see my life’s belongings swaying back and forth in what looked like a modern-day Noah’s Ark.

All of our memories, our life possessions—photos, books, pictures—everything we hadn’t already taken to the cabin, was inside of that moving van, and what didn’t fit in the van was crammed into the vehicles that Heb and I drove. It was too late to go back. The die was cast. Heb and I were becoming country bumpkins once again.

If I had misgivings, you should’ve seen the van driver’s face when we turned onto that county road!

***

Within a week, boxes were unpacked and the cabin filled up with our memories. Furniture was positioned and pictures were hung, bringing a quiet familiarity to the place.

Joan, I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve somehow turned this old hunter’s shack into a home!

We still weren’t ready to share our secret with our children. It was easy to hide from them since all of us used cell phones for our weekly chats. On week days, Heb continued to drive into Austin to work while I stayed out at the cabin to take care of the finishing touches. All the employees at the dealership were sworn to secrecy if any of our family members should call.

There were still curtains to make, rugs to buy and some touch-up painting to be done before we invited our children and grandchildren here for Thanksgiving. After all, I didn’t want them to think we had totally gone off the deep end in our decision making. I wanted our home to be as warm and inviting as possible before we got the expected lecture and, Are you crazies? from our offspring.

Life just got sweeter every day with the exception of the unexpected findings of a snake or two and some spiders. The inside of the cabin was pretty much finished by late summer and looked pretty darned good—good enough for a photo shoot for Southern Living—at least in our eyes.

Most evenings we didn’t even bother to turn on the television. It was relaxing and fun just to sit outside and watch the deer feed and the moon come up. Minutes drifted into pleasant hours, soothing our souls and calming our bodies as the creek continued to whisper to us. Sometimes she seemed almost human…….

Guess I’d best be turning in for the night. It’ll be a long day at the office tomorrow. Time to go over the year’s inventory. I’ll be leaving earlier than usual in the mornin, so don’t worry about breakfast. I’ll just grab something on the way into town. You comin inside?

"In a little while……….Heb?

Yes, Darlin?

Heb…….thank you.

For what?

For this–all this, I stammered as I swept my arms through the air. You’ve made me one happy woman and I love you for it!"

You deserve the best, Joanie, said my weary husband as he kissed my cheek.

I watched Heb as he slowly trudged up the trail to the cabin………..and the Yegua wept.

Chapter Two

With Heb still working full-time, it was up to me to tackle the outdoor shrubs and flowerbeds. Soon I was poring over every gardening magazine I could get my hands on. After many hand-drawn sketches and back-breaking hours turning the ground for new flowerbeds, I was ready to head into Lexington for plants. I’d heard that the local nursery was well-stocked and I wanted to check out their inventory.

After a brief look at the map, I made my way into town and turned right onto Main Street. What a nice community, I thought to myself as I headed toward what I assumed would be the town Square. Slowing down to observe the little pioneer village to my left, I almost missed a stop sign directly in front of City Hall. Being as there was no traffic, I continued on around the block. A good-sized gazebo stood guard in the center of the Square, which was nicely arranged with benches, arbors and rosebushes. Quaint, and very sweet, I mused to myself. It was refreshing to see this little piece of downtown real estate so well-cared for.

Time to find that nursery though, said the wee busy voice in my head, so I stopped the car, rolled down the window and asked an elderly gentleman walking nearby where the nursery could be located.

He pointed ahead and said, Keep on going straight. You’ll pass the Baptist Church and the school. When you come to a stop sign, take a right. Can’t miss er! Thanking him, I pulled away from the curb and quickly found my destination.

Hours later, I drove home with the Explorer loaded down with