Three years and
counting. I’ve kept this blog
going for three years, which is a miracle for me. As I’ve mentioned many times, I struggle finding things to
post. It isn’t because I have nothing
to say; it’s finding something relevant to share in a sea of bloggers who think
they do...and they don’t hesitate to tell you about it. There are many things I’d like to
address and issues I would love to share that are important to me, however I think
I’m a coward. As strongly as I
feel about some things, there are those who are just as passionate and would
argue the opposite. Maybe someday I will dip my toes in a controversial blog,
but right now I’m not ready for it.
Last January, I
included a photo of a fortune cookie “fortune” for my post that month. I thought I would do the same this
year. “You have a charming way
with words and should write a book.”
I love this one and it made me smile when I opened it…seemed appropriate
to use now.
Chapter One
He breathed deeply
and let the cold air fill his lungs.
The windows were rolled down on the old pickup truck and it rejuvenated
him. He’d endured a cold
winter in northern New Mexico and Mother Nature didn’t seem too eager to let
spring take over. The wind hit
Daniel in the face and made him see things for what they were. He knew the dream he’d had couldn’t
hurt him. But it was his recurring
nightmare. All of it based on reality
that Daniel had lived not too long ago, but escaped with help. His eyes watered, from the memories and
the cold air, and he wiped the wetness on the back of his sleeve, driving on.
Daniel drove down
the dirt road and heard only the hum of the engine and the sound of tires
crunching over thawing ice puddles and gravel. He was an interruption to the peaceful quiet of night but
didn’t care. Daniel knew exactly
where he was going and it helped him clear his head. It was the same place he drove to every time he felt
troubled about something.
The headlights
found the side road he was searching for and he turned left. He didn’t brake soon enough and the
sudden change in speed caused the back tires to skid. But he straightened the truck sharply and found the road
again. Daniel knew within a couple
of weeks all of the snow and ice would turn to a thawed mess. The side road might not even be
accessible until after the thaws. Last
spring, he’d walked up the road, driving as far as he could and then parked
just before the flooded area. It
had taken longer to walk the mesa but he felt better for it. It was too cold and slippery to do that
now.
The truck inched
along. The road was narrow and on
an incline so Daniel maneuvered carefully, trying not to lose control and hit
any ice. He kept his eyes on the
road and was surprised when something small darted across in front of him. “I must not be the only one
having trouble sleeping,” he mumbled, driving along, hoping he didn’t encounter
whatever had stirred that critter from its slumber.
He finally reached
his destination. Slowing the truck
to a stop, Daniel grabbed his flashlight and got out of the vehicle. Just a short distance from the road
stood the ruins of an ancient kiva.
The Anasazi used kivas for spiritual rituals and this one had been
abandoned long ago. Even though no
longer in use, Daniel knew better than to do anything that might damage it
further. It was considered sacred
and he respected the customs of the people he had gotten to know over the last
three years.
The kiva was
located on the ten thousand acres he now called home, but was close to the
Indian reservation nearby. Once
when sitting up here meditating his first summer, he felt a presence behind
him. He had turned quickly but saw
nothing. Thinking it was the late
afternoon shadows playing tricks on him, he turned around only to hear a rustling
sound to his right. Looking, he
didn’t see anything. Then he heard
the laugh and turned to see a boy standing in front of him.
Daniel jumped up
at the sight, losing his balance and falling backward. That had made the boy laugh even
harder. The intruder was shorter
than Daniel and his skin was dark.
He wore clothing that looked too large for him, probably hand-me-downs,
and Daniel guessed the kid was from the reservation. He also noticed the boy walked with a limp.
“You shouldn’t
sneak up on people,” Daniel had said.
“You have yellow
hair,” the boy replied, laughing, then turned around and ran.
It wasn’t long
after the encounter that Daniel started seeing the boy around more. He’d show up while Daniel was working with
the horses or out in the hay fields.
He was always watching Daniel but seemed afraid or too shy to approach
him. There was always a smile on
his face and his animated eyes held mischief. It took a long time for Daniel to coax a name from him but
eventually the boy blurted, “You can call me Joe”.
“Nice to meet you,
‘You can call me Joe’,” Daniel said, smiling.
That had made the
boy laugh into the wind. From that
point on, Joe was at Daniel’s side whenever he was able. Curious and energetic, he was always
asking questions and doing things to help. Joe took particular interest in Bob, the rescued mixed-breed
dog that lived with Daniel. It was
easy to like Bob, but Joe seemed fascinated with the animal, as if he’d never
been around a dog before. Daniel
knew otherwise, as dogs were allowed to roam all over the reservation.
The sound of
scratching brought Daniel back to the present. He held up the flashlight, straining his eyes to see what
might be in its cast of light. He
immediately thought of Joe, but knew he wouldn’t have been around at this time
of the night. Plus, it was too
cold for any of those kids to be out.
It was too cold for him, too, he thought, shivering. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or if
the unknown sound caused the goose bumps that were creeping down his arms. Probably nothing, he reasoned as he
lowered the light.
Most of his visits
to this special place were during the daylight hours, but he had made the trip
in the middle of the night before.
He’d had the nightmare and felt the need to come here. It probably wasn’t the wisest choice
he’d ever made, coming up here after dark. There were wild animals roaming the ranch but the need for
air and a clear head were greater than the fear of wildlife encounters.
It was always the
same. In his dream, he was running
from the devil. But the devil kept
morphing into the bastard Daniel had grown up fearing. His father’s face grew closer in the
dream as Daniel struggled to run away from it. He’d spent the first fifteen years of his life dodging fists
his father threw in alcoholic rages and mean abusiveness. Daniel had endured broken ribs, split
lips, blackened eyes, belt whelps and emergency surgery from a fall down the
stairs. The devil had pushed
him. Of course, the story told to
the hospital staff was he’d fallen.
His mother hadn’t
been any better. Mental illness
controlled her life and she refused treatment for it. Fury consumed her most days, while fantasy mingled with
reality. Reality slipped farther
away each day. She usually thought
Daniel had deserved whatever punch her husband doled out, as she worshipped the
ground the man walked on. But the
old man was known to abuse her as well. She died three years ago from an overdose of sleeping
pills. Daniel couldn’t muster
enough sympathy to shed a tear.
He was fifteen years
old when his mother died. The
funeral had been held in the morning and very few people attended. His family didn’t have many friends and
the handful of people who gave their respects probably did so out of guilt and
concern for him. They knew what
he’d endured and had done nothing about it. The neighbors could hear the shouting and cursing from both
his parents, but turned deaf ears to it.
Sounds of shattered glass and the recurring slaps rang out in the silence
of the night but help never came.
People pretended his life was as good as theirs. It was easier and less messy that
way. When they would see his
bloody nose or black eye, they’d look the other way, pretending they
hadn’t. He grew to resent it.
After the funeral,
Daniel remembered returning home to an empty house. His father had gone to the nearest bar. Daniel was thankful he was an only child
because he figured he could handle his father’s meanness. He didn’t think he
could have put up with a brother or sister getting the same treatment. It would have driven him to do
something that might have landed him in prison.
He had grown tall
and strong. It would take very
little to fight back as his father’s form was degenerating from alcoholic
consumption, his muscles wasting away.
One punch from Daniel would have sent his old man across the room, but
fighting was something he found distasteful. He refused the temptation, promising himself that he
wouldn’t follow that path. So he
took everything that was thrown at him.
But he thought it probably would’ve been different if there had been a
sibling to protect.
And something
about that day was different. He
was tired. Tired of walking on
eggshells, worrying if he coughed a certain way that it would send his father
into a blind rage. He was tired of
being afraid and tired of feeling worthless. He was tired of being yelled at and knocked around. And he was tired of never getting a
kind word or feeling the love you’re supposed to get from a parent.
His eyes had
burned from the tears that fell.
He wasn’t sad for the loss of his mother. He was sad because of life. It had given him a raw deal and he found nothing he wished
to live for. Daniel remembered the
pets he’d tried to have over the years.
There had been a puppy here or there when he was young. The joy those squirming little bodies
gave his heart were the happiest times he could remember. But they always seemed to
disappear. He’d get up for school
or come home in the afternoon, and his mother would make some excuse or another
for their absence. When he was
little, he never questioned why.
It just made him sad and he’d cry himself to sleep over it at night,
never stopping until his father would come into his room, slapping and punching
him until he stopped crying.
The last dog he’d
ever had died due to a kick his father gave him in the side. The puppy was playing with a ball and
got in his father’s way. Daniel
watched the devil kick the pup so hard that the little body slammed against the
far wall and slumped to the floor.
It didn’t move. The devil
turned to Daniel and laughed, saying, “Next time he’ll know better.”
There was no next
time. Daniel buried the dog in the
back yard. It occurred to him then
that his father was the reason he’d never kept a pet. He didn’t wish to know what kind of suffering the devil put
the poor animals through, but he swore he’d never have another one. At least not while his father could
harm it.
He heard the sound
of his father’s car in the driveway.
Daniel knew what would come and he didn’t think he could take anymore of
it. He’d had enough and he needed
to find a way to get out. He had a
little bit of money saved, from part time jobs he had worked. It was money he had to hide from his
father, lying that he didn’t have any so it wouldn’t be spent on alcohol. Maybe the money could buy him a bus
ticket somewhere. Then he’d find a
job doing something. It didn’t
matter. Anything was better than
the hell he’d been living in.
“Danny!” the devil
yelled, stumbling through the door.
When he gave no
answer, the devil yelled again, this time a little louder.
“When I call your
name, you answer me, you hear?” his father spat, his shirttail pulled from his
pants and his hair sticking up.
His eyes were glazed and Daniel knew he was drunk. Daniel felt disgust for the man
standing in front of him and his insides burned with hatred for the person he
had the misfortune of knowing as his father.
“That’s how you
want to play it? All right then. No boy of mine is going to treat me with
disrespect,” the devil spat, reaching to unbuckle the belt fastened at his
waist. “Bend over that couch so I
can get you good.”
“No. Not anymore,”
Daniel said quietly.
“You shut your
goddamn mouth, you worthless piece of crap. Get over here now!” he screamed.
Daniel stood his
ground. The devil’s eyes glowed
with meanness. If he could wish
for anything at the moment, it would’ve been for the old man to be struck dead
right then and there.
“Boy, I’m warnin’
you. You better do as I say, or
else,” the devil hissed.
“Or else what? Get
a beating if I come over there or get one if I don’t. Why should I make it easy for you?” Daniel asked. He didn’t know where the words were
coming from but it felt good to say them.
“Why, you, son of
a bitch! Boy, I’ll teach you a
lesson you’ll never forget,” the old man spewed, lunging for Daniel, but
missing and falling over the coffee table with a thud and landing on the floor.
Daniel looked at
the pile of flesh and bones on the floor.
The pile didn’t make an effort to move after the fall and Daniel assumed
the devil had passed out. Seconds
passed and there was a knock on the front door.
He made his way
around his father’s form to the door and opened it. Standing there was an old friend of his mother’s, a man that
Daniel only knew as ‘Charley’.
Charley had always been referenced when his mother was fighting with his
father. Whatever the argument,
Charley was the savior his mother passed up to marry the devil. That was thrown in his old man’s face
time and again, yet his sick mother couldn’t get enough of the man she did
marry. It was something Daniel
would never understand. If Charley
was so great, why did she stay with, or better yet, marry an abusive man?
“Danny, is
everything okay?” Charley asked.
“Don’t call me
Danny. My name’s Daniel,” he
replied. The devil always called
him ‘Danny’ or ‘boy’, whichever suited his mood.
“I’m sorry. Daniel, then. Is everything okay?” Charley repeated.
“What do you
think?” Daniel asked as a response. He stepped aside to let the man enter and
both looked at the passed out man on the floor.
“He’s drunk, I
guess,” Charley said.
“Yes, that’s his
specialty,” Daniel said.
“Look,
Daniel. We don’t have a lot of
time, so listen to me carefully. I
have a friend who’s willing to help you.
I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said, pulling something from
his shirt pocket.
“I bought a bus
ticket for you. To New
Mexico. You’ll have a place to
stay and work, even get your diploma.
But the best part is you won’t be taking this anymore,” Charley said,
nodding his head toward the lump on the ground.
“Why would you do
this for me?” Daniel asked. His head was spinning. He had never been to New Mexico and knew very little about
it.
“Because I’m tired
of being a coward and it’s the right thing to do,” he replied, “no one should
have to live like this.”
“I guess that
doesn’t really answer my question,” Daniel said.
“I’m the reason
your mother married that monster, plain and simple. She was a spiteful woman,
God rest her soul. She got angry
with me because I didn’t propose marriage when she thought I should’ve,”
Charley explained, “so she met your father at a bar and eloped with him that
very night. She was too proud to
admit she’d made a mistake.”
“Even at the
expense of her own son,” Daniel mumbled, looking at the ticket the man held.
“Well, I can’t
even fathom someone cold enough to allow such things to happen to a child, but
I know I won’t let it happen anymore.
That’s why I’m here. Take
this,” Charley said, handing the bus ticket to him.
“Won’t he come
looking for me?” Daniel asked, pointing at the devil.
“Maybe, maybe
not. In all likelihood, he
won’t. Oh, he’ll be mad enough at
first, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep your whereabouts a secret,”
said Charley.
“But what if he
contacts the police? Won’t they try to find me and bring me back? I couldn’t
take that,” Daniel said.
“Your father
wouldn’t chance the police finding out about the life of horrors he’s put you through
if he involves them. So, I don’t
think he will,” Charley said, extending the ticket to him again.
Daniel took the
ticket from Charley. It was his
way out and he was going to take it.
He didn’t know what kind of life to expect but he knew with all of his
heart it would be better than what he’d been dealt. His father snored loudly.
“Hurry, get
moving. Go pack some clothes and
I’ll wait here. I don’t want him
to wake up before we go,” Charley said.
“We?” Daniel
asked.
“I’m driving you
to the bus station, and seeing firsthand that you get on that bus. I have a little money to help you, it’s
not much, but I have some. Now,
hurry,” the man said urgently.
Daniel packed his
few belongings, the little bit of money he’d saved and left the only home he’d
ever known. He took the money
Charley handed him before boarding the bus.
“I’ll pay you back
someday,” Daniel told the man.
“The only payback
I need is to know you’ve found a happy life,” Charley replied.
Daniel nodded and
asked suddenly, “Do you think I might have a dog at this new place?”
“Oh, I don’t think
that’ll be a problem. As a matter
of fact, you’ll find more than just dogs in your new life,” Charley smiled,
patting him on the back. “Now, go.
I’ll keep in touch.”
Daniel took the
only photo he had of himself from his wallet and watched as the rolling hills
of Virginia disappeared through the bus window. He glanced at the image of himself as a baby. He was in the arms of some unknown man
and the black and white photograph was the only possession he’d grabbed, along
with his clothes and money, as he’d quickly packed his bag. Daniel didn’t know why he’d taken the
photo other than it gave him a history. Putting it away, he wondered just what his future
held.
He’d never known any other place, had
never even been to another state.
He knew there was a big world out there to see but never thought he’d
get the chance. Those chances had
only been in his dreams. But
in one sitting he would see a piece of the world as he made his way to New
Mexico. He looked down at the
sheet of paper Charley had given him.
On it was the name of the person who would offer him a new life.
There it was
again. The sound brought Daniel
back to the present. It was a
scraping noise, as if something was rubbing heavily against the ground, pawing
even. It was closer to him,
too. Daniel lifted the flashlight
once again. The light reached the
locked gate to the sanctuary’s land.
Carefully, he climbed over the gate and softly dropped to the other
side. Turning around, he raised
the flashlight to the dark.
It took but
seconds to see him. There in its
full beautiful glory, not six feet from Daniel, stood the elusive ghost
stallion. He was big for a
Mustang, probably sixteen or seventeen hands, but he was definitely part of the
wild horse bands of Mustangs that roamed freely on the ranch. Daniel had seen him before but only
through binoculars. The stallion
kept his band of mares “up in the trees”, an expression Daniel learned meant
staying near a cluster or copse of trees, avoiding contact with humans. The horse probably mistrusted all
humans due to the round-ups inflicted on many of the herds. It took a lot to win the trust of these
incredible animals, but you first had to get close to them. It hadn’t been possible with this
leader, at least not until now, Daniel thought.
The stallion stood
its ground. He watched Daniel
cautiously. His wide-set eyes were
alert, his withers prominent. Daniel
could see the animal’s breath being exhaled through its nostrils and imagined
he heard it too. His mane and tail
were full, and shades much darker than the dun colored coat. Then he noticed the dorsal stripe
down the spine, a sign of ancient Spanish blood, further confirming to Daniel
that he was facing EspÃritu, the Spanish name for ghost or spirit. Daniel had seen that kind of stripe on
only a few of the other horses on the ranch. The horse had been tagged by the Bureau of Land Management
and the brand was visible on the animal’s neck.
