Longhunter,,,,Love the story, and the memories of places back home...Thank you for sharing! :)

Part Two He heard a hawk scream and looked up to see a large red-tailed hawk floating on the air currents of a large bluff in the distance. He marveled at the freedom he enjoyed here in the Lakota Nation, although he still had to be careful for the most part the Lakota left him alone. He admired them, and wished he could have found them earlier. They reminded him of the Highland Clans in many ways and hoped that they would live in peace in the new nation they found themselves a part of now. The hunter remounted his horse swinging up into the saddle with some effort. His smooth bore musket was much lighter than the Kings Musket he carried so long ago. It served him well, capable of killing a buffalo or man at seventy five yards or more. He had no wish to fight anymore but sometimes the fight was unavoidable, and he was ready for anything that came his way, however regrettable that might be. He dropped down into the Grand River bottom - the great cottonwoods swayed and creaked in the high wind. He knew he must keep a sharp lookout, for it would be almost impossible to hear the approach of an enemy in the high wind. He decided to camp for the night and made a small campfire for cooking the small grouse he had killed earlier. He planned to follow the Grand to its headwaters, and then overland for a time to the Yellowstone . He figured that this would take the better part of a week and from there he planned to follow the Yellowstone to the Big Horn and on to Lisas Fort near the Three Forks of the Missouri. He had not made the journey before so he was unsure of the route or how long it might take, he just knew if he headed west he was likely to find what he was looking for. He was looking forward to the grand adventure.

It was the Moon of Ripe Plums by the reckoning of the Lakota. A strong wind was blowing across the prairies. The hunter worked his way down a big bottom. As he rode, he kept his eyes on the horizon. Crossing a small waterway he startled a big red deer - the heavy rack was still in velvet but sported heavy mass and 10 points. He watched as the buck crossed several big bottoms and draws and silhouetted himself on a big butte. The hunter let out a shrill whistle and the big buck turned his head to locate the sound - His antlers extended several inches beyond his upright ears. The hunter had seen big deer in the past but he had not seen one this big in recent memory. Both the hunter and the buck moved away together, each making their separate ways. As he followed a well used game trail his horse was edgy and misbehaving - then he heard it - the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake . The loud buzzing was close he scanned the grass quickly, and spotted the darker colored snake in the sun bleached prairie grass. He quickly drew a large caliber pistol from his belt, cocking it in the same motion. He fired instinctively, and his aim was true, the sixty caliber ball striking the snake a couple inches, from the junction of the head and neck. He reloaded the pistol and returned it to his waist belt. He continued on, scouting for the brigade, he had heard was heading for the headwaters of the Missouri. He rode over a small saddle found himself only about one hundred yards from a small herd of buffalo. He counted two bulls and about twenty cows with calves and a few yearlings. He checked the prime on his long, light smoothbore, just in case one of the woolly haired beasts decided to charge him. He was confident should that occur the heavy ball his fowler carried would be sufficient to dissuade any further aggression from the rest of the herd. Shortly, with the buffalo herd far in the distance, he spotted a buck antelope standing up on a hill watching him. He turned his horse down a riparian area with a small spring fed creek flowing in the bottom. He was startled several times by prairie grouse lifting in front of his horse from the heavy fruit laden rose, buffalo brush, and plum thickets. Shortly, he found himself on the shores of a large pond, surrounded by cottonwood trees. He dismounted from his fine mountain horse, he reached up and took a couple pieces of buffalo jerky from his parfleche saddle bags. They were finely made by a Lakota girl he took a shine to in a village at the mouth of the Cheyenne River. He tied off his mountain horse and took his canteen off his saddle and sat down in the shade of the cottonwoods and took a long pull of the cool water with just a hint of rum in it. He looked at the kidney shaped leather covered canteen - the last remainant of his service in the Kings Army in the colonies fighting against the very men that after the war became his countrymen. He reflected a bit on that - it seemed long ago as he watched Lord Cornwallis surrender to General Washington as a young man - now as a man reaching nearly half a century in age he marveled at the changes that had taken place in the 25 years hence. He had seen the colonies become a new country where all men were created equal. Gone were the Lords and Ladies that he had despised while a child in the Highlands. He carried scars from that War not from balls or grapeshot or cannister, although he had heard the balls whistle by him - it was an eerie sound and of course the smack of the ball hitting the flesh of soldiers standing next to him. No, the scars he carried were in his mind, birthed from the horrors of the war. That is why when the man that had penned the Declaration of Independence all those years ago sent a expedition called the Corps of Discovery up the Missouri and back two years ago and he learned of the wondrous things they had seen and done. He decided to see it for himself. TO BE CONTINUED

These Mountains are My Home From the black rock country of the Columbia, across the misty mountains along the Spokan, Up the Dearborn to the Missouri and the Great Falls These mountains are my home. I have traveled many miles, years, lifetimes it seems. From the Great Falls to the Grand River These mountains are my home. Across the Desolate Plains, Into the Badlands and to The Sheltered Valley I have traveled, buried companions, buried friends but all along my Spirit Soared Like the Eagle high above These Mountains are My Home Down the windswept Plains Across the Flint Hills Along the Brazos My senses long for the sweet smell of ponderosa, spruce and fir. My feet ache for the soft ground and sweet beauty of the high mountain meadows For the Mountains are my Home The old yellow horse nudges me awake, His low nicker telling me that it is time to go Together we saddle up and ride The mountain horse and I Each footstep, each day brings us closer Closer to the Great Shining Mountains The horse travels on eager Longing for the sweet mountain clover For he, like I knows The Mountains Are my Home Across the Llano Estacado we ride For we are beckoned on, We trudge on and on Across the sand and windswept plains Off in the distance we see Sangre De Christo Along with the La Plata mountains For the Mountains are My Home. The miles fall behind us like an unwanted burden Up we climb higher into the sagebrush and juniper covered mesas For the Mountains are My Home I hear the call of the Eagle My Spirit Soars,- floating high on the wind Up above the Staked Plains For the Mountains Are my Home

The Reality of Life When first I came to this desolate land, A home I sought, built by my own hand. Untouched by man, full of splendor and grace, Put there by God, as his own special place. Beavers and bears and herds of buffalo roam, They all lived here together, it was also their home. Grass that rolled liked waves in the wind, Stretched out before me, almost without end. Strange riders passed, like ghosts in the night, Astride painted ponies, was a fierce some sight. My house now complete, the home I had sought, A place for my roots or so I had thought. But as the days grew long, months passed without end, I suddenly discovered I had not one single friend, What good is a life, that no one shares, No matter what happens, there’s no one who cares. A man alone, with an empire he carved, Yet his heart seeks solace, and is only starved. Upon these plains, a man could find a home. Roots could be planted, with no more to roam. A place sought by all, yet found by few, Tis this secret that, I’m sharing with you. Careful what you wish for, consider it well, What seems sent from heaven, could turn into hell. Was long ago, when I first saw this place, And I gave not a thought, to seeing another souls face. In my haste to achieve, what I had sought, What I really wanted, was not what I got. TJD

A Cowboy's Life The red sun sets on a hot dusty day, Antelope, elk and deer, are at play. Plains so vast and mountains so high, Seem to stretch on forever, under God’s vast sky. Alone with nature, far from the rush, As evening settles, he enjoys the hush. No crowds or cities, no people here are found, Just the stillness of the moment, and no other sound. A roof of stars, with a moon so bright, Some time to reflect, by the campfire’s light. What has he traded, for the ability to roam, He thinks of his life, a wife and a home. No restraints he has, he wanders at will, Thru countless valleys, and over the next hill. What a wonderful life, who could ask for more, A man that owns nothing, yet does not feel poor. Some men seek fortune, others seek fame, An empire to carve, or a land to tame. They measure success, by how much they own, Never to realize, it’s all only on loan. We are only here, but for a short time, Why waste the moments, in search of a dime. The cowboy knows, the true measure of a man, Is not measured in dollars, but grit and sand. He lives his life, by his own set of rules, People may mock him, but it is they that are fools. It’s not what you own, but the way that you live, Not what you take, but the help that you give. As the sparks from his campfire, slowly drift to the sky, He doesn’t pray much, but this night he’ll try. I have nothing but thanks, for the life I’m livin, I sure appreciate it dear Lord, for all that you've given. TJD

Just My Luck A stiff wind was blowing, across the barren plain, The storm wasn't here yet, but you could smell the rain. A bolt of lightning flashed and some thunder rumbled, It spooked my horse and he suddenly stumbled. As we crashed to the ground, me and that damn horse, He fell on my leg, and broke it of course. It was just my luck, as I watched him gallop away, To be in a fix like this, on a day like today. Now my leg was broke, and I was afoot, As I was stumbled along, I tripped on a root. It hurt like hell, when I hit the ground, But I hardly noticed, cause I heard a sound. It was just my luck, as I lay there in the grass, That sound was a rattler, and he bit me in the ass. You're a goner for sure, I thought thru my pain, Was along about then, that it started to rain. Right about now, I wanted to curse, Thinking my luck, couldn't get any worse. Wet to the bone, broke leg and snakebit, I'm beginning ta think, this is deep shit. From off in the distance, came a rumbling sound, That's some bad thunder I thought, as it shook the ground. A big bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, And that's when I seen, the first steer run by. Now I know what you thinking and I can hear you laughing, There just ain't no way, that this much can happen. Well it's just my luck, my pards were chasing that stampeed, So they gathered me up, and took care of my needs. I didn't mention the indians, that wanted my hair, Or climbing that tree, to get away from the bear. The rock sized hail that fell from the sky, Or that big ol' twister, that came right by. It'd be too tall a tale, for even me to tell, If I told y'all what all happened, before me and that horse fell. Yup, ain't it just my luck, I can't tell the whole truth, And because my horse won't talk about it, I ain't got any proof. TJD

I thought I might put a couple of my poems on here for y'all .... As Good As It Gets A hot dusty day comes to an end, As I sit on the porch with my dear friend. No words are spoken as we enjoy the quiet, Away from the ruckus, chaos and riot. With a cup of coffee and the occasional glance, We listen to nature's music and watch the shadows dance. We stare content as the evening sun sets, Nothing could be better this is as good as it gets. The day complete another journey ends, The events now past and into our history it blends. Tomorrow will come soon enough they say, Let us simply enjoy the end of this day. How fortunate are we this unlikely pair, That have ventured so much our future to share. So few are blessed to be as lucky as we, A cowboy and this woman who sits here with me. As the shadows grow long and darkness falls, Off in the distance a lonely loon calls. We remember the past and the troubles we had, Of promises broken and relationships turned bad. Two battered hearts weary from the fight, Sharing this moment, as the sun fades from sight. A joining of spirits and two became one, Together forever until our days are done. Her hand in mine we rise to retire, As our eyes meet we see the desire. Slowly I smile and think I'll cover all bets, Nothing could be better, this is as good as it gets. TJD

They leave behind their babies, their husbands or their wives, without askin' questions, they protect our lives. A Mother cries, a Father kneels and bows his head to pray, askin' God ta please forgive the thoughts he has today...Don't take our child away from us, please Lord not this way, it's all their fault, those over there, reach down and make THEM pay. They'll blow away with all that sand, noone will even care, then we'll have our baby back, like he/she was never even there.

Recently, I was reminded of how accepted it was in our culture to exhibit faith and share freely with others without fear of being sued or worse . . . There is a reason why America has been seen as a refuge for folks who've been persecuted for their faith in other countries. It seems that Cowboys have often been revered for their rugged, casual, faith in Our Creator . . . and more recently through the growing popularity of "Cowboy Church, a sincere faith in His Son, Jesus. My hero was Roy Rogers :) I grew up with this: Rider's Rules By Roy Rogers 1. Be neat and clean. 2. Be courteous and polite. 3. Always obey your parents. 4. Protect the weak and help them. 5. Be brave but never take chances. 6. Study hard and learn all you can. 7. Be kind to animals and take care of them. 8. Eat all your food and never waste any. 9. Love God and go to Sunday school regularly. 10. Always respect our flag and our country. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Below is a prayer written by Roy. Lord, I reckon I'm not much just by myself, I fail to do a lot of things I ought to do. But Lord, when trails are steep and passes high, Help me ride it straight the whole way through. And when in the falling dusk I get that final call, I do not care how many flowers they send, Above all else, the happiest trail would be, For YOU to say to me, "Let's ride, My Friend." Roy Rogers Can you imagine a time when a tv personality was accepted and revered and was able to share so freely without being boycotted and slimed as is being done to Kirk Cameron today? It's time for us to "cowgirl/cowboy up" in the arena of Faith. For the most part, we've been brainwashed by the whole PC "thing" and have been sissies in the public arena. God Bless Roy! :)