Sunshine & the Shadows

By Stephen D Paulson

Militant Ignorance and Saving the Planet Dont Mix!

The news media rarely reports and seldom is heard from the voices of those directly affected by seemingly noble, but certainly misguided actions of activists, developers and others who invade their domain. A new book, Sunshine & The Shadows does just that in a novel form that is based on some facts and some real events. The story reveals dark shadow side of what saving the planet agendas and militant actions can bring to innocent rural Americans. The theme is set in the San Luis Valley of Colorado where Eco-warriors from Denver Colorado come to the valley with a definite agendafreeing the range from cattle on public lands. They are soon followed by a hungry media lady seeking crises, conflict, and confrontation to feed her TV audience and further her career. Close behind her come the lawyers, opportunists and tragedy as their agendas and actions reek havoc on an innocent ranching family. The story clearly reveals the ripple effects of our actions, whether they be for good or for ill. The message in the book is timelyespecially as we are bombarded by a constant stream of the dire forebodings of impending environmental disasters and their accompanying never ending messages of Gloom and Doom!

At the end, the fruits of the Ripple Effects of the novels characters come back to each of them. Egos and agendas bring TRAGEDY for some: love and experience bring TRANSCENDENCE for others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 9, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462841790

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

RANGE FREE BY ‘93 … that’s what the bumper stickers read—four of them. One on each corner of the parked, late-model, fully loaded Toyota 4Runner with three expensive mountain bikes mounted on the top. They were blatantly displayed to arouse emotion and attract attention—it was doing just that. Angry glares appeared on the faces of three men dressed in cowboy attire as they walked past the vehicle and read the message on the bumpers. Yuppie puppies out here to tell us how to live, snarled the driver as they boarded a banged-up, four-wheel-drive pickup with a four-horse trailer hitched to it. They stared at the Toyota as they drove off. The message was fighting words to these cattlemen. They, like many of their counterparts, used government-owned rangeland for summer pasture for their cattle.

From the backseat of the vehicle, Sunni Anderson watched her two friends enter the convenience store to purchase some bottled water. Her long brown hair and suntanned complexion made her big blue eyes even more pronounced—they danced when she flashed her smile. A natural smile that flashed her teeth—the type that models try to imitate. She was twenty-one, a junior at Yale University, a Denver, Colorado, resident, and home for the summer.

She watched her friends through the large glass window as they joked and teased each other. Jonathan Spratlin and Michelle Liverman were longtime friends; they even lived in the same ritzy neighborhood. Both attended college at the University of Colorado, and she had not seen much of them until they came out here to this high mountain valley to stay at the summer cabin of Jonathan’s folks. Cabin was actually a misnomer—the place was huge!

She was concerned about Michelle’s illness—bulimia! To Sunni, her friend just didn’t look healthy or seem like the same old Michelle she’d been best buddies with since grade school. Many times, she had attempted discussing Michelle’s problem with her but always chickened out in the end. Michelle was so fragile—physically and emotionally! Confronting her about all the sneaking around and the pigging and purging might flip her off the deep end; at best, it would really humiliate her! Maybe, the three of them being here together this summer would be the catalyst that would finally motivate her to deal with the problem. Right now, she just sneaked around, eating groceries by the sackful, and then forcing herself to throw up. Sunni, and whoever else knew, just pretended they were not aware of anything! The dual deception served only the denial.

Jonathan Spratlin? The past few weeks, she had really gotten to know him well and had grown to admire him very much. She could see why Michelle loved him, and she supposed they’d probably be getting married some time in the near future. They were together constantly.

It had been Jonathan who had steered her course for the summer. This past April, her twenty-first birthday, had been a trying milestone for her. The world was so full of turmoil—wars, poverty, starvation, overpopulation, and pollution. For the first time in her life, she experienced continual guilt for the lifestyle and affluence she and most of her associates enjoyed, and she could find no peace or purpose to her life. Jonathan helped her come to terms with the guilt and find meaning and purpose for her life; he also helped bring it into a true perspective. He almost forced her to attend an environmental meeting in Denver. It featured a focused and determined activist. The self-proclaimed eco-warrior was a very dynamic speaker, and the slides he showed infuriated her. It was photographic evidence of just how much damage the governmental welfare industries of agriculture and timber were doing to our planet and, more particularly, to her home state of Colorado.

The eco-warrior’s message and call to action made a lot of sense. He said that the time for talking was over … only action was what counted; it was where the rubber meets the road. He said we could all sit on our fat butts and watch the planet be destroyed—us along with it. Or, we could get off those same fat butts, lose a few pounds of them in the process, and do something about the problem. That’s why they were here this summer. They were going to do something about the problem. The RANGE FREE BY ‘93 slogans on the bumper stickers were much more than rhetoric to them; it was a call to action. They were going to help rid public land of range maggots … also known as cattle.

Jonathan also made her aware of the new consciousness awaking on the planet; it would inspire them, and others of like consciousness, to take action … and to take action now! He explained that their affluence and wealth had been created for this very purpose. It took people like them with the means, time, awareness, and education to spearhead the battle. All of the misgivings and guilt experienced on her birthday had dissolved with her new awareness. The cosmos had decreed that she should be here this summer—she just knew it! Her purpose was clear; she was going to help cast some sunshine on the dark shadows that hovered so ominously over this valley. They were long dark shadows she and her friends could see so clearly. Apparently, the natives either could not … or would not see them!

**** Brodie Clawson glanced in the rearview mirror as a large chunk of rubber flew from the rear tire of his tandem horse trailer.

Great! his tone reflected just the opposite.

Problem? inquired Demetrio Valdez, his passenger and father-in-law.

Looks like we’ve ruined a tire on the trailer. I just saw a chunk of rubber fly, answered Brodie as he swung the pickup and horse trailer off the highway onto a dirt road that intersected the highway. He stopped and jumped out of the vehicle; the smell of burnt rubber filled his nostrils as he walked back to the trailer. The horses in the trailer fidgeted. The odor and flapping tire were smells and sounds they weren’t accustomed to. He mindlessly reached down and touched the bent rim, then yanked his hand back as the heat scorched his fingers.

Demetrio came around the trailer just as he did this. The foolishness of touching the rim and the frustration of the situation was too much for the moment; Brodie kicked the tire, walked over to the fence, and stared at the mountains. Damn! This just adds insult to injury, he thought as he slowly shook is head.

The peaceful appearance of the beautiful San Luis Valley of Colorado camouflaged the insidious battle the cattlemen were fighting.

Demetrio studied his son-in-law. He knew that the challenges of running the ranch at a profit were taking its toll; Brodie’s face had acquired a few more lines, and they weren’t happy ones. This had not been an easy summer … it seemed like the forces of hell were aligning themselves against them; four consecutive years of drought … the Air National Guard’s low-level bombing runs that dropped metal chaff to confuse the radar … radical environmentalists trying to drive their cattle off the range … and wealthy developers trying to drain the aquifer beneath their land.

Brodie and Demetrio were marked contrasts. Brodie was tall and lean; Demetrio was short and stocky. Brodie was quiet and emotionally reserved; Demetrio was talkative and emotionally open. Yet their love for cattle ranching and their way of life were near identical.

Demetrio wordlessly prepared to change the tire. First, by getting a jack, a lug wrench, and then by unloading the horses. He knew that Brodie was somewhat embarrassed for having touched the hot rim, and respect dictated silence on the matter; he’d heckle him about it later—rest assured.

At the sounds of the horses being unloaded, Brodie snapped back to the moment, and he quickly walked over and took the reins of two of them. The horses were high headed, nostrils flared, and wide-eyed as they pranced nervously away from the ruined tire and its burning smell. They tied them to the fence posts across the bar ditch.

Brodie began jacking up the trailer as Demetrio removed the spare tire from the bracket located on the side of the trailer.

Brodie broke the silence and defensively observed, I’ve sure noticed it’s the rear trailer tires that get ruined; they’re so damn hard to see.

Ain’t that the truth, Demetrio replied, done the same thing more than once myself. I sure hope we don’t have another flat, though. We’ll be in hell of a fix. Maybe we ought to consider getting an extra spare for situations like this.

Just then, Don Martinez, a neighbor and fellow cattleman, drove up, stopped, and got out of his pickup.

Flat tire, huh? Looks like you’ve got ‘er under control. But the tire isn’t your only problem. I just came down from Eagle Draw, and your cattle are bunched along the drift fence by the cattle guard. No doubt … someone has been messin’ with your springs. They’re all gaunt and look like they’ve been without water for few days—this heat really makes it hard on them. When those tree huggers say ‘Range Free by ‘93,’ they really mean it. It’s less than a year … ya know.

Demetrio’s and Don’s eyes met; they fixed their gaze, and a great deal of unspoken but well-understood communication took place. They were first cousins; well, they knew the history of this valley and the many battles their ancestors had fought and won to keep their homes and land and maintain their water and grazing rights. Spanish explorers first entered this valley in 1596. Since the early 1800s, their Spanish-speaking progenitors in one form or another had battled a hostile environment, Indians, Anglo settlers, U.S. government agencies, state agencies, and tax collectors. They were now in an undeclared war with developers and environmentalists who were armed with plenty of cash, a biased media, attorneys, and changing public sentiment. Couple these forces with low cattle prices and drought conditions, and they now appeared to be odds on underdogs to finally lose the war. It was a war that many hoped they would lose. They now had been reclassified as the bad guys.

We were just headed up there, Demetrio gloomily replied, seems like we can’t keep up with things at the moment. Those damn people are loco. What the hell do they think they are doing?

Don kicked the ground repeatedly in one spot and shook his head. A mixed look of anger and frustration resonated from his voice, I know you’re having trouble trying to get your hay out of the field before you miss another water turn. Water’s going to be gone soon anyway. I’ll have Rudy go help Mike …

Brodie interrupted, Don, we sure appreciate your …

Brodie, we’re going to help—dammit!—and you’re not going to stop us, Don retorted. We’ve got to stick together; besides, I kinda feel like I owe ya one. Who put my hay up in ‘87 when I got thrown? You know dang well who did!

Brodie knew and read his neighbor well … arguing would be pointless. He’d help—come hell or high water. Worse yet, his son, Mike, was having to work alone; something he didn’t like him doing with farm equipment. It’s so dangerous! He nodded his head in agreement and opened the trailer door to load the horses in the trailer—time was wasting.

Demetrio, come gimme a hand, Don instructed. You take my spare. We’ve both got WW trailers—so they’ll fit. I won’t be needin’ it for a few days anyway.

Don, we appreciate you … think you know that, though. Sometimes, late at night, I wake up, and I just don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Remember when our dads went off to the war—mine didn’t come back. Remember your dad telling us that he thought the fighting in the world was finally over? Remember Grandpa telling us about our ancestors and the many battles they had—the bad winters? Now, it seems like we’re battling the devil himself! These rich kids that come down here and raise the devil would die if they had to try to make it on their own if we ever had an earthquake or something like that. Demetrio’s voice faded off as he threw the spare tire in their pickup bed.

Don watched Demetrio, his shoulders drooped, as he slowly walked over and got in the pickup. The pain of his longtime friend and favorite cousin tugged at his heart; he just wished he had some answers.

**** Brodie glanced at Demetrio as he turned the pickup off the highway to the dirt road that led to Eagle Draw. He noted that Demetrio was very somber—not his usual talkative, buoyant self. His fondness and respect for the man were immense, especially the influence he had on Mike, his son, and his only child. He sensed Demetrio’s apprehension—Lord only knows what they would find at the springs. Normally, he would have broken the gloom by a wise crack of some sort; this time he just simply didn’t have one; humor just didn’t seem appropriate.

It took them about an hour—seemed like ten—to get to the cattle guard. Their herd of cattle bellowed with thirst as they trailed along the fence trying to find some way through to find water—it was hot!

Brodie stopped the truck. The sounds of the thirsty, distressed, bellowing cows and bawling calves reached maddening levels. Dust quickly covered their pickup; the cattle had turned the grass along the fence line to powder. He looked at Demetrio … both were thinking the same thing.

What da ya think, pard, should we open the gate and let ‘em head for the river? Don’t know what we’ll find at the springs or how long it’ll take to fix ‘er.

Yea, let’s do it. They’re powerful thirsty, and they know where she is, Demetrio responded. Guess we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t on this one. We’ll be on BLM, and the grazing, restricted riverbed. The cows and their calves will probably get split up—guess they’ll find each other soon enough, though. Besides, we’d have a hard time trying to drive them back with just the two of us, judging from the way they’re craving water. I’ll get the gate; you make sure all the calves go through, Demetrio continued as he exited the truck.

Years of working together resulted in them making an excellent combination; it was much like a superstar quarterback and his favorite receiver; they anticipated each other’s moves when working cattle—a kind of a sixth sense.

Demetrio walked toward the gate; dust filled his nostrils and eyes. The heat and the cattle’s lungs rejecting the dust, coughing, eyes watering, and thirsty bellowing increased his frustration and anger. He stood by the gate; the dust prevented him from seeing if Brodie had gotten around the cattle. He waited in the clouds of dust until he was certain that Brodie was in position. Sensing Demetrio’s intentions, the cattle crowded against the gate—making it difficult to open. He pushed on the gate to unlatch the chain and prepared to jump aside. The cattle would come stampeding through and would trample him to bits.

The gate flung open—Demetrio jumped—and cattle came scrambling, pushing, and charging through. They scrambled for the river and a much-needed drink.

Brodie studied the grass. Wow! Mid-July and it looks like September. We won’t be able to keep them grazing up here much longer if it doesn’t rain, he reflected.

A dust-covered, coughing Demetrio walked up to where Brodie was kneeling, Grass looks pretty bad, huh? Sure hope it’s in better shape higher up.

Brodie looked up and nodded.

Demetrio continued, One of us had better call Gary Martin at the Bureau of Land Management to tell him why we turned our cows on the river bottom—I’m sure he’ll understand. The dust was so bad, I couldn’t watch for sick calves very well. I’m sure there were some. The cows were pretty stressed. Last time we checked them, they were up pretty high; so, I’m certain that all three springs have been tampered with. I’d suggest we go to the high water trough first, because the grass is better there; it would be the place to drive cattle.

Thinkin’ the same myself, Brodie replied. Let’s go.

The ride to the top spring took another hour. Both men were in deep thought as they slowly drove up the mountain. Normally, this would have been a pleasant journey. Heat and lack of moisture aside, the mountain was cool and refreshing compared to the valley. The grasses were prematurely turning yellow. Many of the pine trees were dying or dead from pine-beetle infestation. Still, the mountains always seemed to possess a sacred quality. It was the one place where they count on when needing a spiritual recharging, because it always put them in a peaceful mood.

Demetrio’s family and their ranch went back five generations in this mountain and valley. It was Brodie’s heritage only by marriage; nevertheless, they both felt the same deep feeling of belonging—a sensation that this was their tiny portion of the universe. Their connection with it was profound; they knew and respected everyone’s dependence on nature. Because the valley was a high mountain desert, water was a precious resource. They were also geographically located between two upper-air currents that resulted in wild fluctuations in weather patterns—subject to extreme drought or heavy snows and rains. The current drought emphasized this.

The men silently got out of the truck, unloaded the horses, and loaded tools and materials necessary for any number of waterline repairs on the pack horse. Initially, they had brought the pack animal for carrying salt blocks miles away from the water troughs. They needed salt, and it would entice the cattle to graze higher up the mountain and over a larger area. Scratch the salt-block plan, and bring out the repair plan. They really weren’t sure just what damage had been done; it was still a forty-five-minute ride to the spring. Preparation was silent and swift—each knowing just what to do.

Grass looks better up here, Demetrio remarked as they traveled up the trail on horseback, should be able to keep ‘em up here for another month or so—longer if it rains.

Brodie turned back to him and nodded in agreement.

Demetrio stopped trying to create a conversation; small talk just wouldn’t take either of their minds off the cattle and difficulties of the moment.

**** The sweet, but sickening, smell of antifreeze destroyed the serenity of the lush green spring’s surroundings. The water in the tank had a pale yellow cast divulging the source of the smell. No water was running in the trough. A large RANGE FREE BY ‘93 bumper sticker was blatantly stuck on it. Antifreeze is poisonous to cattle; normally, they would not drink it. The three fish they had placed in the tank were dead and floating on the top. Dead birds lay scattered on the grass near the trough.

Brodie dismounted, removed the sticker, slowly folded it, and put it in his saddlebag. Fingerprints, maybe, he shrugged.

Demetrio surveyed the damage as he slowly walked around the tank, I’ll take care of this mess if you’ll take care of the pipe. I can make sure the poisoned water doesn’t get in the drain ditch.

Brodie nodded and began loading and unloading a shovel and some tools from the pack horse.

Demetrio’s face reflected his mind shift; he now had a better idea what problems they were probably facing. He smiled as Brodie handed him the shovel, Your hand’s probably too sore from frying it on the trailer tire. What is it you gringos call this? he held up the shovel. A Mexican backhoe, or is that dragline?

Brodie grinned, "Dragline, and I don’t even know how to operate one.

Demetrio’s humor served as a release valve for the pent-up frustration both had been experiencing. Both men’s minds begin to focus on the task at hand.

As he swung up on his horse, he looked at Demetrio and said, I’ll check with ya before sending any water down the pipe. Watch out for the border patrol.

Buenos, senor, I don’t even have a green card. Both men laughed.

**** A circle of dead grass revealed the poorly disguised area where the water pipe had been shut off. Brodie grabbed his shovel and began digging down to the pipe; the dirt was soft and easy to remove due to having been dug on only several days ago. About eight inches had been sawed off the plastic pipe, and a plug of rags had been tamped into the supply side. Temporary repairs could be made with materials on the pack horse; he tied the pack horse to a tree and returned to the water trough.

Demetrio had dug a trench to drain the water, and the trough was almost drained by the time he arrived.

Looks like you’re ready for some water, Brodie noted.

Almost. Did ya find the problem?

Yep, they sawed off a chunk and plugged the pipe with rags. I can do a temporary fix in a few minutes. I’ll head back and do it, then we can get some supplies to do it right, Brodie replied as he turned his horse around and headed back to repair the line enough to send water down it.

**** Brodie and Demetrio watched as the trough slowly filled. By the time we get home, it’ll be almost dark, Demetrio observed. Can’t see any sense in watching this fill, can you?

Naw, let’s go. I imagine that the other two springs were damaged the same way. I’ll need to pick up some collars, glue, and pipe to fix them. Store doesn’t open until 7:30.

Well, let’s go there first thing … then drive the cows back up here and repair them afterwards, Demetrio suggested.

Sounds good, let’s head for the barn, replied Brodie.

Brodie slowly drove down the rough road toward the highway and home—neither was experiencing the anxiety and frustration of the morning. They knew what they were facing and just what to do. Demetrio was back to his pleasant and talkative self; each was back to living in the moment. The scent of pine, the soft breeze, and mule deer traveling to water and feed created a peaceful setting.

Best to leave tomorrow’s cares until then, Demetrio counseled. Sure appreciate Don and Rudy’s help with the hay.

Brodie nodded in agreement. Leave it to Demetrio to seek the peaceful way, he silently observed; plus, Don and Rudy’s neighborly help was welcome!

CHAPTER 2

Mike Clawson stopped the tractor, flipped the power-takeoff lever to disengage the hay baler, and climbed off the tractor to check the baling twine. Mike was handsome, twenty-three, slightly under six feet tall, with an olive complexion and jetblack hair that reflected the Spanish and Indian heritage from his mother’s side. He had a slender but a muscular build and always wore an infectious smile.

He surveyed the field, took a deep breath through his nostrils, and savored the aroma of curing meadow hay. Birds feasted on insects exposed by the baler as they picked up the windrows of hay. The three-legged coyote and white owl that had shown up at haying time for the past four years caught mice as they scurried for shelter; the baler also exposed them. Occasionally, hawks swooped down from the sky to likewise prey on the mice. Mike, the birds, and the coyote enjoyed the harvest; the bugs and mice did not. It was part of the cycle of nature—life living off life.

Each summer, when he returned home from Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Colorado, where he was a veterinarian major, he appreciated his folks and his rich heritage more. His life’s dream was to have a veterinarian practice in the San Luis Valley and run this ranch.

Sounds of the roaring diesel engine of another tractor caused him to turn around. Rudy Martinez was just entering the field and began picking up hay bales with the bale wagon—years of operation enabled him to do so at an amazing speed. He flashed a big howdy, partner smile, waved at Mike, and continued around the outer row of bales until he reached the windrow of hay that Mike was baling on. The equipment came to an abrupt halt, and he swiftly walked down to where Mike was standing.

The old man asked me to come help you. Your dad and grandpa are headed for Eagle Springs. Apparently, someone’s shut off the springs. Dad saw your cattle hanging by the drift fence. He said, from the looks of them, they’d been without water for a few days.

Man, oh man! Mike replied as he shook his head. Bet they’re a couple of ticked-off Joses. Hey, Rudy … glad you showed up.

Sure, no problemo; let’s get some hay in the stack, so we can go to the rodeo dance and catch a few senoritas, Juanita, Rosita, Chiquitas, Rudy shot back with an alluring big smile. I’ll probably have to catch you one, though … but that’s no problem either, I’m used to helping humble souls like you. It’s just part of my kindly nature. You just pull your hat over your face and leave the rest up to me. He grabbed Mike’s hat and pulled it down over his eyes.

Mike laughed and tipped that hat back, Sure, you just want me along for bait to increase your odds. I’ll do that for you for helping haul the hay … won’t even charge you any extra.

Bet I can catch up to your baling before the day’s out, Rudy challenged.

You’re on.

Rudy ran back to his tractor and began hauling hay. Rudy and Mike had grown up together. They were second cousins and best friends. Both of them had been outstanding wrestlers in high school. Rudy took that competitive nature to anything he did. Mike knew he would bust his buns to catch up to the baler, so Rudy would be waiting on him for bales to haul. The challenge would inspire them to work quickly but carefully—an equipment breakdown would insure losing the bet.

Mike began baling hay and looked up as Rudy came roaring by and pumped his arm in a mocking I’m going to get you manner. He was always amazed at the speed Rudy could operate the bale wagon—the bet would be hard to win.

**** Sunni Anderson sat on the railing of the Conejos River with her friends, Michelle Liverman and Jonathan Spratlin. Some terrible, unconscious, ignorant, greedy cattle rancher had turned his cattle loose on the river bottom. In her eyes, the cattle were literally destroying the foliage. They were eating it, pooping on it, and tramping it. She and her friends were certain they were witnessing a major violation being imposed on Mother Nature by one of the world’s foremost environmental sinners—cattlemen!

Jonathan was really fuming—no way were cattle supposed to be here. No way! His mind was churning; this could be a great opportunity to further their cause. He’d call Margo Turner at the Channel 2 TV station. She’d done many stories about the damage the cattle were doing to Colorado’s mountains and ranges. Margo was one who really knew what was going on; furthermore, she would tell it just like it is.

Let’s call Margo at Channel 2. We’ll teach those greedy government parasites a lesson. We also need to find out who’s the owner of the brand on the cattle, so we can track them down.

Sunni and Michelle looked at each other and flashed each other a knowing smile.

Yea! Great idea, Jonathan, Sunni replied. She admired Jonathan for his courage and willingness to do whatever it took to do his part in cleaning up the environment. She really appreciated the part he had played in opening her eyes. This will be one of the most meaningful summers of my life, she thought as she looked fondly at him.

Just then Brodie and Demetrio came around the bend in their pickup with the horse trailer on back.

Looks like some of the scumbags coming down the road. We’d best get off the bridge, Jonathan warned.

Sunni walked to the middle of the road and slowly and defiantly ambled off the bridge—forcing Brodie to stop quickly. The horses rattled the trailer as they caught their balance from the sudden braking. She ignored them completely—never looked back—and tauntingly swung her hips as she prolonged her stroll off the bridge.

Jonathan stood by the edge of the road at the opposite end of the bridge. He spread his feet apart, put his hands on hips, and insolently stared at Brodie and Demetrio.

Brodie peered out of the open window and asked in a helpful manner, Got a problem?

I sure as hell do, and you’re part of it, cowboy! Jonathan snapped back.

The cockiness and contempt surprised Brodie. With a reflexive response of instant anger, he opened his door to get out; Demetrio grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Let’s get the hell outta Brodie, he firmly stated. We’ve got enough trouble as it is. It’s going to be dark before long; we might just as well wait until morning to check for sick calves.

Brodie shut the door and drove on; his eyes narrowed, and his jaw muscles flexed, Should’a knocked him right out of his leather shorts.

Demetrio knew better than debate an issue like this. Damn! This guy’s hot head is going to get him in trouble again one of these days. But, he reflected, I’d have liked to see him done it. Yea! Enjoyed it a bunch.

Did you see that jerk? Jonathan charged. The macho cowboy idiot acted like he wanted to fight until his wetback slave saved him. I’d like to have practiced a little karate on his tobacco-spitting face. Remember this, the name on the bug screen on the front, and on the doors of John Wayne’s pickup said El Valle Ranch. We need to find out who the owners are. I’d like to pay their cattle a little visit. The man’s a complete fool.

Both girls nodded in complete agreement.

Let’s go. We’ve got work to do, he instructed as he opened the door to his all-terrain vehicle with the three expensive mountain bikes mounted on top and three cases of antifreeze in the rear.

**** The sun had already cast its shadows on the field where Rudy and Mike were hauling hay. Rudy was triumphantly lying on grass with a big smile on his face and had a grass stem sticking out of his mouth as Mike stopped his tractor and turned it off.

Man, wish you weren’t so slow, Mike, Rudy joked, you got a dollar waitin’ on a dime.

Just didn’t want to damage your delicate ego; besides, the hay’s starting to gather dew now that the sun’s behind the mountain. Let’s go boogie! I won’t be able to start baling until late tomorrow morning.

They headed back for the house on the tractor hooked to the bale wagon. Rudy drove, and Mike stood on the tow bar and held on to Rudy’s shoulders. When they arrived at the house, Brodie and Demetrio were unsaddling the horses.

Appreciate your help, Rudy, Brodie stated, looks like you two been hard at it.

Sure, no problemo. We’d have more done if I could be two places at once, Rudy teased to remind Mike who won the bet. We’re going to the rodeo and the dance. For a paltry ten bucks, I’ll even fix Mike the Humble up with some good-looking gal.

Brodie laughed and turned to Mike, Don’t know what kind of social life you’d have if it weren’t for good old Rudy.

Good, Dad, give him the ten bucks then. I don’t know if I’d even have a social life if it weren’t for the both of you. Can we give you a hand? Hear you had problems. Springs damaged?

Yea, had to turn the cows into the river bottom. We’ll need to gather them and take them to high spring tomorrow, Brodie answered as he handed the reins of a horse to each of them.

**** Olive Clawson stared out of the window at the men as they all started to walk toward the house. They’d be hungry; the supper meal was on the table.

Each man evoked a warm sensation in her as she observed them. Her dad, Demetrio! What a boon he’d been to their family after moving in with them after her mother had died. Mike was then a baby. Dad is world’s greatest grandpa, and Mike knows it. She and Brodie were buying the El Valle Ranch from her dad. They marked the sixth generation the ranch had been in the Valdez family.

Mike! Wow! What a joy, and that ever-present, free, unpretentious, perpetual smile of his. God! He’s beautiful … what a ray of sunshine. She had four miscarriages before finally having Mike—he would be her one and only child. Health reasons prevented her from trying again. No matter—to her—Mike was the son most mothers only dreamed of. Oh! That ugly feeling again. A fleeting feeling of terror traveled down her spine, causing a shudder. It was like some premonition or dark foreboding. Stop it, she mentally instructed herself. Seemed like something awful happens to the innocent types like Mike. It must just be the worrisome mother hen in me. It’s just that if anything ever happened to him, I don’t think I could handle it.

Brodie! The love of my life! He’ll be handsome if he lives to be a hundred. Suddenly, she turned around and walked to the kitchen. I’d best get them fed. Mike would probably be in a hurry to head for the rodeo and dance.

See you at the rodeo, Mike. See you guys tomorrow, yelled Rudy as he entered his pickup, slammed the door, and sped up the lane.

**** i heard about the problems at the springs, Olive consolingly offered as they all sat down to the supper table. Were you able to get water for the cattle?

We turned them into the river bottom. We’ll have to round them up tomorrow and drive them to the top spring. There’s water in the trough now but still needs more work. The cows are pretty stressed; no doubt we’ll have some sick calves to doctor tomorrow, Demetrio explained. Remind one of us to call Gary at the BLM as soon as supper’s over. Need to explain why we turned them in there.

Olive looked around the table. The men all knew the signal; all bowed their heads in silence and observed a moment of grace and thanks.

Demetrio crossed his chest as they all looked up and solemnly counseled, The good book says, ‘Sufficient unto today is the evil thereof,’ and for my part, I’ve had enough of it for one day.

Brodie nodded his head and made eye contact with all—grumbling seemed pointless. They ate in silence.

Great meal, Mom, exclaimed Mike as he kissed her on the cheek, gotta boogie. Want to catch as much of the rodeo as I can and hit the dance.

Up the stairs he dashed. The perpetual grin served as a catalyst to lighten the mood. Olive looked at Demetrio and Brodie, and they all chuckled.

The energy of youth. Wished I could borrow some of it sometime, laughed Olive. Then … bam! That sickening sensation ran through her chest and stomach again. Her head dropped, and she closed her eyes. I worry about Mike too much, she mentally counseled.

Olive’s actions did not escape Demetrio. He sensed his daughter’s mood swing … but had no clue as to the foreboding doom she kept experiencing. He stood up, walked over, and put his hand tenderly on her shoulder and softly gripped it. Something wrong? he inquired.

Just the worrywart mother hen in me, she replied. The explanation seemed to satisfy her father—but not her. The feeling came back—much stronger! Tears started to form. She didn’t dare reveal her thoughts … as if saying them out loud would invite their fulfillment.

Olive, Brodie was watching them, let’s take a ride and stop somewhere for a drink. You look like you need to get out of the house.

I think you’re right. I certainly could use something.

**** Mike, with sparkling smile flashing, came rushing down the stairs, feet landing on every third step, and gave Olive a peck on the cheek. See you in the morning sun, I’ll be having fun, now the evening’s come, he half sung as he dashed out the door.

Olive smiled, waved, and admonished, You be careful.

Her words bounced off the slamming door but not off her son’s eardrums.

CHAPTER 3

As he walked along the bottom row of the rodeo stands, Mike kept his eyes on the top one—the place where his buddies would probably be sitting.

Midway up, near the aisle, Sunni watched him. Michelle and Sunni had persuaded Jonathan to attend the rodeo and the dance. It had taken some pressure; he did not want to come; he detested rodeos and Western music.

Mike—white Stetson hat, bright colored brush popper, Western shirt, tight Wrangler jeans, silver belt buckle, and gray sharkskin boots—epitomized a cowboy by his dress—the very ruthless beast she had came to combat. But his smile … that radiant smile. His white teeth gleamed in stark contrast to his black hair and olive skin. In Sunni’s belief system, there was a contradiction here; the guileless smile couldn’t come in a macho cowboy package. There are smiles of will—ones where the mouth smiles and the eyes do not. And there are smiles of the soul—ones that seem to emanate from the purest essence of the spirit. Mike’s was of the latter, one of those radiant sunshine types that often evoke the dark side of sinister souls as they project their own duplicity onto the being wearing the smile.

The sheer magnetism of that smile mesmerized her—oops! He glanced at her—caught her obvious ogle—right in the acñ She quickly turned her head—a pretentious act of denying her conduct.

Mike proceeded up the aisle and stood on the back row with his buddies to watch the rodeo. Sunni turned as Mike sat down and made a mental note of where he was setting.

A few minutes passed … Sunni again found herself staring at Mike. He glanced at her and flashed her a big smile. Gees! Caught again! This time she gave a half smile as she quickly turned her head away.

**** When the rodeo was over, Mike, Rudy, and friends walked into the large multipurpose building where the dance was being held. The dance was in full swing; the floor was filled with people doing a popular line dance. They all joined in, laughing