Marriage of the Heart

By Duane Arthur Ose

A married woman hastily dashes off not telling anyone. Hitches a ride from Minnesota into the interior of Alaska to live her dreams of being a mountain woman.

Falls in love with a mountain man. Then diagnosed with terminal cancer. Together they prepare for her death by planning her headstone, words to be read and her resting place.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jul 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9798887641256

Duane Arthur Ose

Duane's first memory was a terrifying experience of not knowing where he was. Then as he aged realized the all too scary memory was of the latter stage of being conscious in his mother's womb. Then screaming as he entered the coldness and the light of the birthing room. Duane grew up on a farm. His favorite subject was in the science field. Become the science club president. His sport was baseball, it was more brain work not brute force. "Duane put his problems away for a brainy day." Duane graduated high school in 1960. October of 63 he walked on board willingly into a space craft from another star system. That had deliberatelylanded near him during archery season. To which he has written about in the book. "Visited by Star Travelers."Duane is an Army veteran and while stationed in a missile air defense area,1967 he was one of several in a radar room that witnessed a subsonic blip, blip across the green screens and gone. To which headquarters immediately came on the speaker and said: "Erase the tapes and do not alert the civil populace." Duane's first wife gave birth to three wonderful children, two boys and a girl. Duane and his then wife risked all and started a new concrete business (Ose Mobile Concrete Inc.) and was doing extremely well until Duane lost one eye and due to complications was declared disabled, subsequently divorced. The lure of Alaska grabbed him. Became the last Federal Homesteader in USA to have filed in 1987.Under, "The Federal Homestead Act of 1862, signed by President Abe Lincoln. Duane is a trained Army survivalist and was a scout master at one time and now a writer. "Truth is stranger than fiction."

Book preview

Prologue

This portion of the Alaskan Wilderness series, Alaskan Wilderness Adventure IV , is dedicated to Carol Le Kortgard. This book covers from June 1988 into the month of June 1990.

Carol Le was born 150 years too late, and whenever possible, Carol Le was taking part in the old ways of buck skinning, musket shooting, and cooking with a cast-iron Dutch oven over an open fire while wearing her favorite buckskin dress and her knee-high moccasins. Carol Le and Ted loved that way of life.

They would take part in all the buckskin rendezvous events in Minnesota and Iowa. They viewed my films, Alaskan Wilderness Adventures, often, invited me into their home, and asked me many questions. They knew that in October of 1986, I was the last to file on the Federal Homestead Act of 1862 signed by Abe Lincoln which was closed for good after my application was approved.

Little did I know then where Carol Le’s dream of being a mountain woman and affection toward me would lead or end in her death by cancer.

It is with great pride to present to you Carol Le’s story on how she lived life to the fullest.

Chapter 1

 We Have to Go Now!

The year was 1988, eight months had passed since I had driven back down from Alaska to my birthplace, the Ose Farm near Echo, Minnesota, where I was living with my mother. During those eight months, I prepared for my return trip to Alaska. At that time, some of the many people I visited were Carol and Ted. Carol and Ted’s interests in my Alaskan homesteading were always the main topics of our visits. I think they were born 150 years too late. They loved that period in history. The Federal Homestead Act of 1862 of which I was a living part.

It was a warm sunny June day while on the Ose Farm; I was eating breakfast home alone when the wall phone rang.

Hello, I said. It was from Carol.

Carol asked frantically, When are you leaving?

I replied by saying, Not for a couple of days, I have to pack and go through the check-off list.

Carol then said, We have to go now, today!

What do you mean, we have to go now?

Because he’s at work and I have only a few hours before he comes home for dinner. Come and get me. I have already packed. Hurry, please!

Then she hangs up! Not giving me time to respond.

Carol’s plea had completely caught me off guard. Both she and her husband were friends of mine. All three of us together had many times watched the VHS movies that I had taken while in Alaska. I had not seen nor heard a hint of marital trouble between them. Other than Carol’s flirtation toward me and her sexy jokes to which I thought was only in fun. So when Carol phoned me while I was on the farm with the sound of panic in her voice pleading for me to come now, I reluctantly, with wonder, did.

In hindsight, a family crisis center is what I should have called or something of that order.

In the days before my plan of traveling to Alaska, the family knew I was about to head out. This year, I ended up planning on driving up alone because I did not find any friends who had the time.

My friends included my brother’s friends. Mike Ose was the city’s chief of police, so I had made friends of the various police agencies. There were the Redwood Falls Police Department and the Minnesota Highway Patrol Officers that worked the area. A state game warden that lived in Redwood Falls of whom I have worked with at times, and the officers of the Redwood Falls County Sheriff’s Office.

Four days before I was to leave for Alaska, I was shopping in Redwood Falls. A sheriff’s car rolled up silently. I heard only the stones beneath the tires crunching alongside me in the store’s parking lot. The officer friend and I chatted. He was wishing me a safe journey. I told him that my brother, Mike, had the phone number where I would be while in Anchorage before flying to my homestead in the wilderness. I further informed him that Mike has all the contact information needed if anything should come up.

To you, the reader, know that Alaska is known for what is called the End of the Roaders. Those are the persons that no matter which of the continental lower 48 state they’re in, they travel as far north passing through Canada into Alaska and as far as the regular road goes to attempt to escape the law. The end of the Road Town is the small town or village of Manley Hot Springs, which is on a crushed gravel road extending far north of Fairbanks. The oil pipeline haul road runs all the way up to Perdue Bay, the north slope, and the oil fields.

The peace officer in that community is the first one a bounty hunter or the law calls, asking if they have seen a new person in town.

If the answer is yes, the distant law official faxes the peace officer a photo of the wanted person. All post offices have wanted posters in Alaska. Alaska’s bulk-food stores and the smaller stores post photos of missing or wanted persons.

Because of the urgency of Carol’s call, I hurriedly drove the thirty miles from the farm to North Redwood.

The small town of North Redwood was the birthplace and home of Sears and is just a few miles north of Redwood Falls; that is the county seat named after the county.

As I drove into the yard, Carol scrambled out of the house and met me before I was only partway into the yard. She had a small overnight bag of clothes and a small purse. Carol dressed in tight-fitting jeans, with her favorite sleeveless snap open-front low-cut blouse with her white sneakers on her tiny feet. Carol’s extra-long flowing straight blond hair covered her bare shoulders.

That’s all? I asked.

Her quick reply was yes and then quickly got in my pickup, telling me, Go! Go!

I drove straight away, taking the back roads, and stayed within the speed limit all the way to the farm. On the farm, I quickly finished packing my gear, loading it into the pickup. I withdrew days before, from my bank account, the traveling cash needed for the trip through Canada. There was no stopping except for gasoline. From the time we pulled out of North Redwood, I was eyeing my rearview mirror. Carol was trembling with fear as we drove.

I tried to calm her fears, but all the same, she knew it would be a matter of time before the law officers would put two and two together and be on the lookout for my pickup headed to Alaska.

I made this route to Alaska many times, making some slight changes at various times. For fast traveling, I stayed on the newest highways, being very careful not to be stopped by going over the speed limit.

We crossed into Fargo, North Dakota, keeping on the main highway continuing west, and then turned onto a highway leading north to the Canadian border. We were both alert for any police cars, and Carol would duck down from view when we met or passed one.

By now, the day was long, and in any other circumstances, I would have made camp while still in North Dakota. But I knew if we did not cross over into Canada today before the day’s end, all border crossings would or might be alerted. Carol was of age, but all the same, did not want to be having to

explain her actions currently. You can call me a fatalist, but I half expected to be held at the border. I did not tell that thought to Carol. And I did instruct her to act normal if asked any questions, keeping answers short and to the point, not to embellish.

We arrived at