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Stephen E Yocum Sep 2018
Visiting a friend on his Quarter
Horse farm, the day sunny and warm.
We walked out to his brood mare
pasture, the ladies were running,
awaiting and sunning, anticipation
in the air and their nervous behavior.

Noble his name, consistency his game,
a reliable aging stallion, sire to many
fine sons and daughters, years of proven
pairings, came halter led and prancing.


He had their scent and his spirit awakened,
the three ladies believed to be in season began
to snigger and whinny, their excitement growing
as the stallion entered their grassy domain,
the dance was about to commence.

The handler led the big fella' forward,
both sides began their quizzical inspections.
one young filly more aggressively willing
than the others. Noble excitedly returned
her heightened interest.

Within a few minutes Noble began to rear up,
he knew his job, his august appendage extended,
trying several times to mount his mate intended,
adrenaline pumping his back legs began to shake,
on his fourth failed attempt the eager proven
suitor fell to the ground, rolled over, paused for
a moment and struggled to stand on unsteady legs.
Appearing even somewhat embarrassed.

The mare moved aside, kicked her hind legs in
the stallion's direction, whinnied loudly and
ran away. Rejected the old stallion stood looking
perplexed, failure was something unknown to him.
His spirit was willing but his aging body was weak.
The old stud slowly returned to the barn, his head
hung low, no longer prancing.

For every time and being there is a season, aging
is part of the cycle, like this stallion, we all reach
this moment of understanding. Sometimes gracefully,
most times with stunned disbelief.

From Noble to nothing in one afternoon.
The allegorical parable here is impossible
to ignore. Unless your are twenty four.
Joey Dec 2014
It was a Masquerade, she said: a place we could go to hide. I wasn't in fright of her. I had it all under control. She took me by the hand, softly, that cold summer morning. The confusion that surrounded us allowed us to see more clearly. We were both wearing horse masks, and she whinnied at me so eagerly. The apple tasted bitter, but when I licked her lips, I felt the sugary sweetness of saliva mixed with cake crumbs and wine. We flirted. We sang together. I saw her naked, twice. When she took off her clothes and threw her tights around my head, I couldn't see the flesh she flaunted to the rest of the room. She licked my chin, all the way up to the tip of my mask, lifting it from my skull with her tongue. When her song was sung, I wallowed in pity and doubt. Her father chased me from the balcony. I climbed faster than he and escaped with my life, barely. The walk through the mangrove was dusty, and spiders kept climbing down my back, spinning their threads along my spine. I contemplated my mirage in the rippling waters before taking the final steps into my doorway. Looking up, greeted by elephants, tigers, peacocks and pigs. They strangled me with their elixirs, and we danced with the moon until our legs abandoned us.
KING EOCHAID came at sundown to a wood
Westward of Tara.  Hurrying to his queen
He had outridden his war-wasted men
That with empounded cattle trod the mire,
And where beech-trees had mixed a pale green light
With the ground-ivy's blue, he saw a stag
Whiter than curds, its eyes the tint of the sea.
Because it stood upon his path and seemed
More hands in height than any stag in the world
He sat with tightened rein and loosened mouth
Upon his trembling horse, then drove the spur;
But the stag stooped and ran at him, and passed,
Rending the horse's flank.  King Eochaid reeled,
Then drew his sword to hold its levelled point
Against the stag.  When horn and steel were met
The horn resounded as though it had been silver,
A sweet, miraculous, terrifying sound.
Horn locked in sword, they tugged and struggled there
As though a stag and unicorn were met
Among the African Mountains of the Moon,
Until at last the double horns, drawn backward,
Butted below the single and so pierced
The entrails of the horse.  Dropping his sword
King Eochaid seized the horns in his strong hands
And stared into the sea-green eye, and so
Hither and thither to and fro they trod
Till all the place was beaten into mire.
The strong thigh and the agile thigh were met,
The hands that gathered up the might of the world,
And hoof and horn that had ****** in their speed
Amid the elaborate wilderness of the air.
Through bush they plunged and over ivied root,
And where the stone struck fire, while in the leaves
A squirrel whinnied and a bird screamed out;
But when at last he forced those sinewy flanks
Against a beech-bole, he threw down the beast
And knelt above it with drawn knife.  On the instant
It vanished like a shadow, and a cry
So mournful that it seemed the cry of one
Who had lost some unimaginable treasure
Wandered between the blue and the green leaf
And climbed into the air, crumbling away,
Till all had seemed a shadow or a vision
But for the trodden mire, the pool of blood,
The disembowelled horse.
King Eochaid ran
Toward peopled Tara, nor stood to draw his breath
Until he came before the painted wall,
The posts of polished yew, circled with bronze,
Of the great door; but though the hanging lamps
Showed their faint light through the unshuttered
windows,
Nor door, nor mouth, nor slipper made a noise,
Nor on the ancient beaten paths, that wound
From well-side or from plough-land, was there noisc;
Nor had there been the noise of living thing
Before him or behind, but that far off
On the horizon edge bellowed the herds.
Knowing that silence brings no good to kings,
And mocks returning victory, he passed
Between the pillars with a beating heart
And saw where in the midst of the great hall
pale-faced, alone upon a bench, Edain
Sat upright with a sword before her feet.
Her hands on either side had gripped the bench.
Her eyes were cold and steady, her lips tight.
Some passion had made her stone.  Hearing a foot
She started and then knew whose foot it was;
But when he thought to take her in his arms
She motioned him afar, and rose and spoke:
"I have sent among the fields or to the woods
The fighting-men and servants of this house,
For I would have your judgment upon one
Who is self-accused.  If she be innocent
She would not look in any known man's face
Till judgment has been given, and if guilty,
Would never look again on known man's face.'
And at these words hc paled, as she had paled,
Knowing that he should find upon her lips
The meaning of that monstrous day.
Then she:
"You brought me where your brother Ardan sat
Always in his one seat, and bid me care him
Through that strange illness that had fixed him there.
And should he die to heap his burial-mound
And catve his name in Ogham.' Eochaid said,
"He lives?' "He lives and is a healthy man.'
"While I have him and you it matters little
What man you have lost, what evil you have found.'
"I bid them make his bed under this roof
And carried him his food with my own hands,
And so the weeks passed by.  But when I said,
""What is this trouble?'' he would answer nothing,
Though always at my words his trouble grew;
And I but asked the more, till he cried out,
Weary of many questions:  ""There are things
That make the heart akin to the dumb stone.''
Then I replied, ""Although you hide a secret,
Hopeless and dear, or terrible to think on,
Speak it, that I may send through the wide world
Day after day you question me, and I,
Because there is such a storm amid my thoughts
I shall be carried in the gust, command,
Forbid, beseech and waste my breath.'' Then I:
Although the thing that you have hid were evil,
The speaking of it could be no great wrong,
And evil must it be, if done 'twere worse
Than mound and stone that keep all virtue in,
And loosen on us dreams that waste our life,
Shadows and shows that can but turn the brain.''
but finding him still silent I stooped down
And whispering that none but he should hear,
Said, ""If a woman has put this on you,
My men, whether it please her or displease,
And though they have to cross the Loughlan waters
And take her in the middle of armed men,
Shall make her look upon her handiwork,
That she may quench the rick she has fired; and though
She may have worn silk clothes, or worn a crown,
She'II not be proud, knowing within her heart
That our sufficient portion of the world
Is that we give, although it be brief giving,
Happiness to children and to men.''
Then he, driven by his thought beyond his thought,
And speaking what he would not though he would,
Sighed, ""You, even you yourself, could work the
cure!''
And at those words I rose and I went out
And for nine days he had food from other hands,
And for nine days my mind went whirling round
The one disastrous zodiac, muttering
That the immedicable mound's beyond
Our questioning, beyond our pity even.
But when nine days had gone I stood again
Before his chair and bending down my head
I bade him go when all his household slept
To an old empty woodman's house that's hidden
Westward of Tara, among the hazel-trees --
For hope would give his limbs the power -- and await
A friend that could, he had told her, work his cure
And would be no harsh friend.
When night had deepened,
I groped my way from beech to hazel wood,
Found that old house, a sputtering torch within,
And stretched out sleeping on a pile of skins
Ardan, and though I called to him and tried
To Shake him out of sleep, I could not rouse him.
I waited till the night was on the turn,
Then fearing that some labourer, on his way
To plough or pasture-land, might see me there,
Went out.
Among the ivy-covered rocks,
As on the blue light of a sword, a man
Who had unnatural majesty, and eyes
Like the eyes of some great kite scouring the woods,
Stood on my path.  Trembling from head to foot
I gazed at him like grouse upon a kite;
But with a voice that had unnatural music,
""A weary wooing and a long,'' he said,
""Speaking of love through other lips and looking
Under the eyelids of another, for it was my craft
That put a passion in the sleeper there,
And when I had got my will and drawn you here,
Where I may speak to you alone, my craft
****** up the passion out of him again
And left mere sleep.  He'll wake when the sun
wakes,
push out his vigorous limbs and rub his eyes,
And wonder what has ailed him these twelve
months.''
I cowered back upon the wall in terror,
But that sweet-sounding voice ran on:  ""Woman,
I was your husband when you rode the air,
Danced in the whirling foam and in the dust,
In days you have not kept in memory,
Being betrayed into a cradle, and I come
That I may claim you as my wife again.''
I was no longer terrified -- his voice
Had half awakened some old memory --
Yet answered him, ""I am King Eochaid's wife
And with him have found every happiness
Women can find.'' With a most masterful voice,
That made the body seem as it were a string
Under a bow, he cried, ""What happiness
Can lovers have that know their happiness
Must end at the dumb stone? But where we build
Our sudden palaces in the still air
pleasure itself can bring no weariness.
Nor can time waste the cheek, nor is there foot
That has grown weary of the wandering dance,
Nor an unlaughing mouth, but mine that mourns,
Among those mouths that sing their sweethearts' praise,
Your empty bed.'' ""How should I love,'' I answered,
""Were it not that when the dawn has lit my bed
And shown my husband sleeping there, I have sighcd,
"Your strength and nobleness will pass away'?
Or how should love be worth its pains were it not
That when he has fallen asleep within my atms,
Being wearied out, I love in man the child?
What can they know of love that do not know
She builds her nest upon a narrow ledge
Above a windy precipice?'' Then he:
""Seeing that when you come to the deathbed
You must return, whether you would or no,
This human life blotted from memory,
Why must I live some thirty, forty years,
Alone with all this useless happiness?''
Thereon he seized me in his arms, but I
****** him away with both my hands and cried,
""Never will I believe there is any change
Can blot out of my memory this life
Sweetened by death, but if I could believe,
That were a double hunger in my lips
For what is doubly brief.''
And now the shape
My hands were pressed to vanished suddenly.
I staggered, but a beech-tree stayed my fall,
And clinging to it I could hear the *****
Crow upon Tara."
King Eochaid bowed his head
And thanked her for her kindness to his brother,
For that she promised, and for that refused.
Thereon the bellowing of the empounded herds
Rose round the walls, and through the bronze-ringed
door
Jostled and shouted those war-wasted men,
And in the midst King Eochaid's brother stood,
And bade all welcome, being ignorant.
Sam Hawkins Apr 2019
Upside-down and unconditioned I
climbed my tower.

Sprinkled my flecks and dodges.

Wistful-eyed, in soul surrender
with my twin wild roses, I grew.

Sunset in mauve near sparked attention
cop politician any progressive crew

and all the while
I whinnied to the moon.

Before the door was broken into
under-rooms had shut, had disappeared.

Streaks of starlight filled the streets
and sailing, flew.

This is way the desert sings
tra-la-tra-lee.

Tra-lee-la.
automatic writing. just me going off, near sedona az
Jeff S Feb 2018
Wordsworth bubbled in my cellophanate bath water
yesterday, at the candled hour.

whilst horse tails whinnied from Joshua Bell—
Tchaikovsky in brood, 1878.

Oh, but if I had thought to Bogart the whole affair, well,
I'd be a modern Michelangelo, a downright da Vinci—

a Dostoyevsky before the dawn—

propped between the cold **** and the hot,
wet behind the ears.

Then I turn the note-the page-the scene:
Don't try this at home, they echo in the shackles of

celebrity. A drowning horse has sounded better
than their confession of our normality.
Pay attention everyone said Lilliput
I have an important announcement
We're going to have a wonderful picnic
For our family on Thursday , poppits only
The groans were heard all over the palace
Are we riding there , asked Horsey Anne
No we jolly well are not
And you scrum half Zara , are not either
We're motorcading it , without staff
Another really loud royal moan
We are each taking everything we need
And that includes you ex pork of York
'OOHH NNOO' she gurgly grunted
Less of that , and NO toe suckers allowed
Nor arrive in a kiddies helicopter either
And you Wills missus more clothing
You make my  blue blood run cold
Next Thursday then , you picnickers

What have you brought asked Lilliput
Silver knives and forks hoarsed Anne
Paper plates grunted Flossy Fergie
Plastic cups , whimpered Wills missus
Lav paper for tissues, gidded up Zara
Big tablecloth bellowed Camilla
Have none of you brought food said Lilliput
'NO' they all mardily whinnied
None of us even thought about it

And you mumsy H.R.H. what have you brought

'NOBODY questions me , you pipsqueaks
LET'S ALL GO HOME NOW !
i looked out at the weather
the clouds were moving fast
Winter was incoming
The season would not last

With fences needing mending
And cattle still to ship
Winter would be early
I could feel it in my hip

Every morning I would  get up
Stagger down to get a brew
The pain was getting worse now
I'd lost a step or two

My daughter told me "Daddy"
"You need to see to that"
I'd grumble at her, smile
Then take my coffee and my hat

I'd go outside and wait some
Look out north for there I'd see
The last great wild pony
He's a stubborn one like me

I've chased him round these hill for years
Caught him once or twice
But, no one here could break him
No matter how we rolled the dice

He runs a herd of forty
I just let them go their way
I see them in the hills sometimes
And that's where I'll let them stay

There's other wild horses
Running round here that we chase
But, his...we let them venture
We let all forty have their space

Time has slowed me up some
It's got to him, I know as well
His is just from aging
Mine is where I fell

I was chasing wolves up on the ridge
They'd been running round the ranch
My horse slipped up and threw me
I landed sideways on a branch

I heard the pop and felt the pain
A searing burn through me
Beside me, lying helpless
My horse looked up at me

I did just what I had to
One swift shot between the eyes
Now, there I was out lying
A broken hip and ****** thighs

I'm not sure how when it happened
By rights I should have died
But, somehow, I can't tell you
That lone pony saved my hide

He saw me lying helpless
Knew the wolves were there as well
He took off once he saw me
Left his herd right where I fell

They walked in a tight circle
Kept me safe right where I lay
He took off to get assistance
His herd, knew they should stay

Like I said, I don't remember
How long I was lying in that space
But, I remember waking up and
I saw with him, a friendly face

They told me he wreaked havoc
Broke the fence down at my place
Kicked a fuss enough up
Then led my ranch hands on a chase

They chased him till they had him
This pony wild and free
He brought them to his herd of horse
He brought them out to come save me

He kicked the ground and whinnied
Looked at me, to say ok
The men loaded me up with them
I'd live to see another day

Fifteen years have passed since
I see him up there on the hills
While I sit outside just watching
The pain, it's helped some by my pills

A thousand wild horses
Well, for certain...forty one
Couldn't drag me to a doctor
Not while I can see the sun

He's a stubborn one that pony
Comes around I think to show
He ain't gonna go before me
And, I think he's right you know

My daughter keeps on trying
And I love to hear her try
But all the wild horses
Wouldn't even let me die

He's a part of me I guess now
Just like I'm of him of course
This stubborn limping cowboy
And that stubborn wild horse
ulflyr69 Feb 2013
In the south facing sunlit room,
She sat looking out upon
the sweetfern valley.

The words flowed freely
form her heart through the pen
onto the parchment page.

In the stable
the handsome gray stallion whinnied,
calling her name.
Later, she murmured softly, with a loving smile.
Sam Temple Apr 2017
Each head accounted for
and every paycheck cashed,
we hunched near a campfire.
My father struck a match
and touched the tip of a Lucky Strike.
The horses whinnied softly
and stomped their hooves,
the cattle bawled in the corral.
My father leaned closer to the fire
took one long dirt-flavored drag
drew another square from the pack
and wished one day he could watch it all burn.
This piece is to be published in 'Oregon East' this coming fall.
Judy Ponceby Sep 2011
She felt his hands stroke her heaving flanks
Sensitive fingers brushing the dampness.

She leaned into the hands of this man,
Her friend and master for the moment.

Then she whinnied loudly and galloped,
To strut among the jealous herd.
Titled by Frank James Davis, an inspiring sort of fella :)  Despite Frank's opinion, this is becoming a grand collaboration.
They came by the hundreds
not thousands or millions
for millions had been vanquished
they came seeking some glimpse of hope
here at the shoreline
driven from their homes
by the fires that raged
seen even by those banished to Moon's Sector 9
airtight tears for those left to face certain genocide;
the cleansing
the great winged beast carried the Surveyor
to cross the Sea of Shadows
how many are left
he was to determine
how long before Earth is ours?
He delighted in their suffering
as he now hovered above them
just off the ocean's edge
'You can perish here or be taken to Sector 9
it is your choice
you are familiar with slavery
are you not?
So you shall adapt'
and with that he snorted and his beast whinnied maliciously
like some monstrous, hulking mule
while rearing it's hideous head
some tree limbs were moved where the beach front gave way to a patch of woods
revealing a crude catapult contraption constructed of wood planks,
rope and a leather pouch
it stood upon a wheeled platform with a handful of men surrounding it
one man held an ax
it had been adjusted and was now aligned with the beast
the Surveyor, upon seeing the weapon snorted louder in defiance
just as the ax came down to cut the rope
the boulder struck the beast just below it's long neck
it reared back violently, throwing the Surveyor into the Sea
then flailing and kicking as it screamed in agony
falling to it's death
One man stepped forward and pointed to the Surveyor
as he gasped for air, bobbing in and out of the waves
'This is our home and we will be staying' spoke Jodehon
a glimpse of hope

thus began the Battle of the Nines
Elizabeth Oct 2014
I asked a flower one day where the world's going to go.
She shook her head and laughed,
Responded with an
"I Don't know".

I asked a bird one day when time will stop.
She motioned at the perched oak branch over our heads and whispered
"When this branch drops".

I asked a fawn one day if things will ever change,
She whinnied and stomped her feet,
As if I'd asked something strange.

So I sought next no less than the absolute best, the most humble of all that I could guess.
I found the blue whale, perfect and pale with his perpetual grumbling wale.
And I ask him where the answers were
But he said
"Child, save yourself, and no longer wonder".


If peace can't find these questions answered,
Then what does anything mean that I've heard?
Chapter 13: An Uncertain Trail  
Cutty was once again headed down a trail with an uncertain end.  He didn’t feel good about the riders ahead or what their true intentions were.  Jimmy had said: “They are probably cowboys from the Bar Circle T Ranch,” but he had only been guessing.

He charged up the rapidly darkening trail…  

The only thing he was sure of was that he was forever duty-bound to a code that had taken him captive so very long ago.  It never mattered the circumstance or the odds of success.  When her voice called—and his honor was once again at risk—everything else became subservient to his sense of duty.

It had first called his name in Central Park over twenty years ago.  He had been hunting pirates behind a pond, on the east side of the park, when the message was first handed down.  It was delivered in the scream of a young girl coming out of a small cave on the far side of the pond.

As the bats flew out of the cave, all of the other boys ran.  Cutty never wavered, as he covered his head and charged.  Inside, was a defenseless seven-year-old girl who had wandered away from her nanny.  Cutty covered her with his jacket and led her back outside. As the other boy’s heckled and jeered, he never stopped or even looked their way.  That young girl’s name was Miss Shepperd, but Cutty had heard the nanny call her Destiny—Destiny Shepperd.

Cutty was now riding his five-year-old horse at a full gallop and the white sweat from the horse’s withers had covered his trousers.  His knowledge of tracking was enough to tell him that the shoe prints were becoming more pronounced the further west he rode.  He was gaining on them.

Five miles later, there was less distance between the front and rear hoof prints of the riders ahead.  They had slowed down.  They were now either cantering or walking their horses. Cutty decided to get off and walk his horse until he was sure.  He knew his horse could use the rest, and he needed the quiet to be able to hear what might be up ahead.  

He walked for twenty minutes, as the tracks in front of him became fresher and fresher.  There was no doubt in his mind that the riders ahead of him were walking their horses too.  

It was now late into the evening, and he thought he heard voices coming out of the trees ahead.  As he edged closer, he could smell wood smoke and hear the sounds of a fire.  Cutty knew the other mounts would smell his horse in the night air before he got much closer.  He decided to tie his horse to a tree thirty feet off the trail.  He had learned from the Gurkhas in Nepal how to move soundlessly through the brush.  He held his sword close against his body, as he advanced through the dark.

The trail started to enter a deep ravine.  At the bottom, he could see five horses all tied together.  Fifty yards past the horses was a raging fire.  These men were not worried about being seen.  Cutty listened for voices as he moved past the horses.  The sounds that he heard in the night air were emboldened with inebriation.

These Men Were All Drinking

“Good,” Cutty said to himself.  “A drunken adversary is only half the threat that he is when sober.  This adjusts the odds a little more in my favor.”  Still, Cutty wasn’t going to take anything for granted.  Five drunken cowboys, if that’s what they were, could still be a lot for him to handle.

He checked the cylinder of his Colt .45 to make sure it was fully loaded.  He didn’t want to repeat the mistake he had made when rescuing Adrian on that hill in Portugal.  After chasing the Basque Assassin, Bakar, through the hills above Lisbon, he had forgotten to reload after shooting at him and several of his men.

He was sorry now that he hadn’t asked Jimmy for his Colt, Model M1902.  It would have given him eight rounds in case the six in his Colt .45 were not enough.  The Colonel had always told him that, … “In direct confrontations, there is very little chance to reload.  Most fights are over by then.”

The M1902 was a semi-automatic pistol developed by John Browning for Colt in 1902.   It was an improvement on an earlier design.  The military version had a square and lengthened grip frame allowing it to carry an additional round in the magazine.  It fired eight rounds of .38 ACP from its six-inch barrel.

With his Colt .45’s capacity of only six rounds, Cutty would have to be deadly accurate with each shot.

DEADLY ACCURATE IS WHAT HE HAD BEEN BEFORE!
  
As he came out of the woods and passed by the horses, he tried to move quietly so as not to startle them and give himself away.  
The lead stallion whinnied as Cutty brushed by him in the dark.  The noise was loud enough to arouse two of the men and they came to investigate.  Cutty moved further off into the shadows until the men were satisfied that the horse had only been reacting to a small animal in the brush.  The two wobbly figures mumbled to each other as they walked back to the fire…

“We’ll teach that filthy redskin a lesson about wandering this far off of the reservation,” the bigger of the two said.  “His body will only strengthen our story about the missing cattle.  When we get done with this running iron he’ll wish we had killed him when we killed his horse.”

All five men were now seated again around the fire and passing two bottles of whisky back and forth.  There was no sign of Not-Many-Prisoners anywhere.  Cutty said a prayer that he was still alive.  Based on what the one cowboy had just said, he was pretty sure that he was.

But Where ?

A running-iron was a free-handed branding tool that allowed the cowboy to create a design of his choice on the animal with its hot glowing tip.  Unlike the forged designs of most branding irons, the running-iron allowed the brander to change, or go over, an existing design making it a favorite tool of rustlers throughout the west.
Cutty circled around the ravine to get closer to the fire.  The five men had continued to drink, and their words got louder as their attention span’s diminished.  As the sparks danced in mock adoration …

Cutty Started To Plan


Chapter 14: Right Toward The Fire

He looked down at the gleaming brass on his blouse.  As an afterthought before leaving home, he had stuffed it into his satchel.  He wasn’t sure why, but he thought that maybe—just maybe—it would be useful in some way.  The buttons were now alive in the distant glow from the firelight.  They would appear as multiple sets of eyes coming out of the dark.

Cutty looked intently at the five men as they continued to pass the two bottles around.  Their faces were greasy and unwashed, and they sat with a demeanor that gave away their intentions.  They were among the lowest of men ...
  
These Men Hadn’t Seen A Washtub In Over A Year

Cutty remembered back again to his cowboy friends in Abilene and Dodge City—they looked nothing like this.  They had been righteous and straight, and their posture and speech only reinforced their true makeup.  They were nothing if not respectful of those around them and totally dedicated to their craft.  Cutty appreciated that. Their loyalty to the ranches they worked for equated to his unwavering commitment to a life of duty and honor.

Those Men All ‘”Rode For The Brand”

He had developed a kinship and brotherhood with those cow hands back in Kansas, and he had made himself a promise to one day go back and visit them again.  He knew as he made that promise to himself, going back was something he had never been able to do before.  He hoped  this time it would be different.

“All right, who’s going first?” Cutty heard from the cowboy seated at the far end of the fire. “Who wants to put the first mark on that filthy redskin?”  “I’ll do it, Jack,” said a man seated ten feet to his left.  “I’m going to burn a dark groove right between his two beady eyes.”  
“OK, Pete; you and Bill go get that stinking Piegan.”

At this point, Cutty had not seen Not-Many-Prisoners, but he knew he had to be close.  The two men walked toward where the horses were tied and within five minutes were back.  Each man had Not-Many-Prisoners by an arm, and the Piegan Elder was slumped forward and struggling to walk.

Cutty Had Walked Right Past Him

“I don’t think he liked being tied to that horse, Jack.  He about pitched a fit when we cut the ropes and took him down.  Bill gave him a good jolt to the head with his Peacemaker to get him to behave.  I don’t think he’ll give us any more trouble.” “Good, you and Bill tie him to those two small cottonwoods over by the water.  Then we can let the real fun begin.”

Some Of These Outlaws Were Carrying Colt .45’s

Cutty couldn’t believe that he had walked right by Not-Many-Prisoners when he had entered the ravine.  “How could I have missed him so close in the dark?”

Not-Many-Prisoners had been tied cross-saddle to the biggest of the five horses.  It had been the fourth one back as Cutty passed by in the dark.  After tying him to the saddle, the outlaws had covered him with a canvas tarp making him impossible to see.  It also made it almost impossible for him to breathe.

Not-Many-Prisoners was lucky to be alive.  Had Cutty been able to see and untie him, it would now be two against five and they would still have had the element of surprise working for them.“I wonder if Not-Many-Prisoners knows I’m here?  He may have heard me as I walked by, especially when that lead horse whinnied, and has kept quiet to protect me.  Or, he may have been in such rough shape, that he missed me entirely.”

Cutty wasn’t sure of Not-Many-Prisoner’s mindset but he was sure of one thing ...he didn’t have much time.   As the vile, and now drunk, outlaws tied Not-Many-Prisoners to the cottonwoods, Cutty hurried back to the horses.

He quickly and quietly untied them from each other—he needed to make a statement.  The cowboys were still drunk, and a drunken man’s imagination often gets the better of him.  He was hesitant to do it, but he felt he had no other choice…

He Unholstered His Colt


Chapter 15:  A Different Brand Of Justice

The horses had been bound together with a technique that Cutty had never seen before.  They had all been tied to a forty-inch branch that allowed them to move freely and graze without getting tangled.  It lowered down as they fed and then rose when their heads straightened back up.

Cutty vowed to remember this for the future.  It provided for both security and a limited amount of mobility.  It had been invented by the Cheyenne and was used extensively throughout the southern plains. The Colonel had been right when he said: “The Native Americans are noted for their prowess in stealth and tactics.” Cutty untied the horses from the branch, and—with three of the reins in his right hand and two in his left—started to walk them slowly toward the fire.

He knew his next move would be costly, but he needed to create as big a diversion as he could.  It would only leave five shots in his Colt, but the effect would be worth the bullet, at least that’s what he hoped.
.
He Reminded Himself About Hoping Again

The Colonel had warned Cutty repeatedly about hoping.  “Wishing for a certain outcome is not worth the mental effort you will put forth.  Keep your attention focused on the task at hand.  That will afford you the best chance of success.”

Cutty slapped the lead stallion on its **** as he fired his Colt up into the night sky.  At the report of the gunshot, all five horses took off toward the fire like they were being chased by the underworld god, Hades.  Entering the mouth of the ravine, there was not enough room for them to go around and avoid the fire.

They Charged Straight Through

The horses charged across the fire as the five cowboys looked on in drunken horror.  There was smoke and flying embers everywhere.  Two of the cowboys at the far end stood up and tried to run but were trampled by the horses before getting very far.  The lead cowboy, Jack, managed to get to his gun before leveling it in Cutty’s direction and firing.

Cutty redrew his Colt while dropping to one knee.  He sighted his big .45 and fired before Jack could get off a second round.  The bullet went straight through Jack’s right shoulder causing him to drop the big Peacemaker as he fell back away from the now-scattered fire.  
Cutty picked up Jack’s gun and ran toward where Not-Many Prisoners was tied.   As he cut his restraints, he handed him Jack’s gun saying: “There are five shots left in the cylinder.  Here’s six more rounds in case you run out.”

They both turned to face the startled cowboys who were now crawling through the dirt trying to make sense of it all.  With a KIAI that none of these rustlers had ever heard before, Cutty advanced.  One by one, he grabbed the men and threw them face down onto the dark ground.  He then yelled to Not-Many-Prisoners: “Tie them up with their hands behind their backs.  I’ll tie the one that I shot after I check on his wound.”

The KIAI Had Been For Not-Many-Prisoners Benefit

Cutty checked on Jack’s shoulder.  It was bleeding profusely, but it was a clean wound and the bullet missed any bone or cartilage as it passed through.  Cutty grabbed the bandana from around Jack’s neck, ***** as it was, and wrapped his shoulder.  “This will help to stop the bleeding,” Cutty said.  “Keep pressure on it with your other hand.  It’s better than you deserve, but you might just live if you keep it from bleeding out before you get to a doctor.”

Jack had been staring at Cutty’s blouse as he doctored his wound.  “So, you some kinda government agent?” Jack asked, as Cutty started to walk away. “I’m a Major in the United States Army here to investigate charges that rustling has been taking place on government land.  I can see now that the rumors have been true.  In addition, you were getting ready to commit capital ******.  I am ordering you, and your men, to stay here until my detachment comes back to pick you up.

If you’re not here when they arrive, they will hunt you down like the wild dogs that you are.  I need to get this Indian Scout back to headquarters. We know who you work for and what you’ve been doing.”

“You Are All Under Military Arrest”

Cutty tied Jack’s right hand to the top of his other arm. He knew he had just stretched the truth, but he wasn’t above doing that if a man’s life hung in the balance.  He looked across the scattered but still burning embers.

Not-Many-Prisoners had a look on his face that Cutty had not seen from any of the Piegan Elders before.  El Cristo had been the first to look at him that way when he had mortally wounded his son, Elligretto, in Seville.  His expression transcended the present moment as it acknowledged Cutty’s immortal warrior spirit.

Not-Many-Prisoners ran into the darkness in the direction that the horses had just gone. In less than ten minutes he was back with all five of them in tow.  “How was he able to find them in the dark and to have done it so quickly?” Cutty wondered.
  
Horses, when frightened or startled, will often run for miles without stopping.  He was sure when he fired that shot from his big Colt, those five had been both.  The Colonel’s assessment about Native Americans—a breed of men Cutty had only met once before in Abilene—rang true again tonight.

At West Point, Jimmy had been masked in eastern tradition hiding the best parts of himself.

Cutty Jumped On The First Horse As He Yelled
nick armbrister Jun 2020
There is both fear and defiance in this horse's eye, but why?

The horse was NOT scared
I’m a war horse and nobody messes me with me
Not even aliens who think they’re big and hard!
Or so the horse defiantly thought
Well he also thought he was a horse but but but…

The horse was actually a spaceship!
Low and behold in all his glory
A real spaceship that was in space
To venture between the stars
And he was horse shaped.

But was made of aerospace grade materials
That was mined from distant asteroids
And built into a starship in a factory
That orbited Neptune for ease of use
For cosmic exploration and so more.

The horse shaped space vessel was big
Many miles high and across and heavy
Like the heaviest metal played by Compressorhead
Or mined from the most lucrative asteroid
Powered by fusion drive and ion engines.

Armed with triple laser cannon arrays
For defence against meteors and alien craft
Like now that were ready for war!
Zap! Zap! Zap! went the lasers guns.
Boom boom boom went the alien craft.

And Yahoo! whinnied the horse craft
As he became master of the galaxy
And unleashed war of the worlds
Thus dooming the entire universe
To violence and darkness if aliens won.

But a million horse shaped spaceships
Were being built in deep space
Up-gunned with undreamt of weapons
And uprated engines and other toys
Thus guaranteeing galactic horse victory.

There was no need for a human crew
Machines and robots took over
Ensuring a flawless capacity for success
As a hundred thousand ships sped off
To impose equine discipline in space.
GIRLS, GUITARS, GATLING GUNS
Jimmy Boom Semtex
On one of the cliffs of Crete, Botsaris was one day with his horse Kanti, he was saddling him to leave for some distant lands, where no one had dared to ride them. When he arrived, he saw that many horses from the same island were running swiftly with their herds. He got late and when he set fire, Kanti approached him with a rare discomfort in him. He sweated profusely, and his nostrils made him sprout the strongest gasifications of whose magical forces, they proposed to take him to the Cemetery of Crete, which was hidden in ruins within some stones that surrounded it. After hours, Etréstles walked, he was starting from some warriors who wanted to hunt him down. His needs were to have water, food, and transportation. On the edge of a cliff, at twilight, Etréstles gazes west across the High Seas, staring into infinity. Looking down, he sees some steeds grazing on the shore of the beach, when suddenly, he looks from the height at a horse that was between his gaze, Etréstles looks at him from behind with his psychic eyes for a long time, until the horse she turns around and stares at him with her eyes.

Next, Etréstles walked as if wanting to walk through the air, but rightly the horse whinnied loudly, in this way Etréstles stopped, otherwise, he would have fallen off the cliff. He retreats a few meters and falls exhausted to the grass. Meanwhile, a stampede awakens him, they were thousands of horses that galloped incessantly through the pastures of the region of Crete, which welcomed spring. Then Etréstles gets up and with his blurred vision, he sees a horse that was on a fence waiting for him, they both approach and the steed with his fixed eyes told him that it was Kanti, and in turn, Etréstles's telepathic transfer told him that it was he. Etréstles walks up to the steed and crosses his neck with him, then they both bring their nostrils together and pass the nasal fluids of each other's world. Kanti, kicked the ground with joy for giving Etréstles the incarnation of him that he so badly needed. Kanti takes Etréstles to the cliff where Botsaris was to unite them in that magical place in Crete.

Botsaris…: With whom have you come this time my beloved Kanti? With a tired warrior who is about to die. Well, tell him to join us in fighting the Turks who are following him.

Etrestles unable to speak of tired and weak in proportions, follow Kanti and Botsaris to rest from his escape.
Kanti the Steed
Zywa Nov 2018
When the child was playing outside
without mum and dad

without anyone, by itself
with a bee and the blow-ball

of a dandelion
there were horses too

further out in the meadow
it said aloud to love:

How many we are!
Looking around in delight

with a deep sigh
without wishing anything

that was not there, the child cried out
with wide arms: Yes!

The horses pricked up their ears
and indeed, love was there:

they felt it in their hooves
they breathed it in, and out

and all their skin began to glow
Excited they looked at each other

Do you feel, do you feel it? she blew
Yes it's wonderful, he whinnied

It is awesome! they all
snorted and stamped

The foals were hopping around them
For them, it was the first time
Collection "The Big Secret"
Ever since second grade
an ever stronger prescription
for nearsightedness donned my countenance,
cuz myopia (inherited courtesy
both parents) rendered me 'As Blind as a Bat' .

For some reason,
I wanted side arms
that wrapped behind the ears,
also known as cable temples
like those worn by Mark Smith.
a classmate of mine
where I got me some learnin'
at (Henry Kline) Boyer Elementary School,
where yours truly attended third to sixth grade
in the little hamlet that time forgot
and the years could not improve
of Evansburg, Pennsylvania.

Self consciousness found me
surreptitiously slipping the glasses
on and off my button nose,
when the need arose to read
what the teacher
(at Eagleville Elementary,
which school attended
the second half of the school year 1968,
cuz my parents moved
from Lantern Lane
in Audubon, Pennsylvania
to Level Road
in Arcola/Collegeville, Pennsylvania),
addressed as Missus Rittenhouse -
who interestingly enough
sported a body as big as a little house)
wrote on the blackboard.

Lack of writing down helpful readable notes
linkedin with sloppy penmanship
(on par with chicken scratch -
cluck...cluck...cluck...)
found me drawing blanks,
when quizzes or tests got administered.

Mein kampf hummed tunefully
or analogous to a ship of state
nonchalantly bobbing along
like a little buoy on calm waters
drifting totally tubular
within the meandering time stream of life
mostly receiving clean bill of health,
whereby I experienced
only the usual childhood illnesses
such as chicken pox,
measles, and mumps
additionally I exhibited
hypochondriacal tendencies

(after exiting childhood's end)
of course worse case scenarios imagined
worrying myself 'blue in the face'
regarding yours truly
(me) NOT experiencing
any major life and death
crisis of body electric,
but mental health brush with death
(a horse of a different color)
whinnied and nayed as anorexia nervosa
compromising, jeopardizing, and wreaking havoc
nothing short of renting asunder
body, mind, or spirit triage.

I vividly recollect
during school lunch yours truly
never ate anything
and at least one inquisitive student
asked and peppered me if my abstinence
NOT eating linkedin to religious reasons.
I could hardly escape some critique
of my person outside the cafeteria,
particularly when riding the school bus,
cuz Alan J. Herr and his ilk
relentlessly teased me

calling out when I boarded the bus
"four eyes" and "professor"
but once mature cataracts removed,
(courtesy opthamologists
at Kremer Eye Center - King of Prussia)
I can go back to the future
and cast laser beam light sabers
visualize a stun gun
emanating out these ocular orbs
and cast piercing rays
upon the head of those pesky perps.

— The End —