Author: DianeOlsenAuthor

Diane Olsen, prolific writer and award-winning author of her debut book release titled; "Ancient Ways: The Roots of Religion, and The Rising Wind Book Series." Her first book is a thought-provoking and informative look at the development and evolution of religion throughout time and a well-considered concept - the idea of a connective thread of monotheistic faith throughout history from the birth of human creation. Born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, she now lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Diane was an Undergrad at Colorado State University Ft. Collins: Pre-vet med, Anthropology, then attended and received her BA and MA at the University of Montana, Missoula: Anthropology, Archaeology, and Paleontology. She was a Graduate Teaching Assistant for two years. Diane has proudly raised two sons Andrew and Gavin, has four grandsons Dylan, Brayden, AJ, and Asher. She is an animal lover and enjoys living in Washington State with her two girls (doggies), "Ladybug and Charlie," along with two ancient "retired" Zebra, finches, one African Black-footed Cat. She has raised sheep and goats and about 40 other species of critter over the decades. Diane enjoys writing, reading good books, and cooking. A few of her favorite books are 'The Book of Certitude (Kitab-i-Iqan), The Upanishads, and The Great Initiates

Part Two –‘The Unique Settled History of Sweetwater Canyon’ Areas of Colorado Springs, CO. . .

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

For me, the Green Settlement was the first magical surprise on the trail north of what is now called Greenwood Park. As I first rode through there in awe, I found inch-wide, tiny deer tracks that looked like they belonged to miniature deer, or fawns – not our big mules, sunk deep into the dead pine needles. There were also the ruins of two old cabins, more like rotting logs in the shape of foundations, close to a giant boulder. Dad later told me it was known as the “Green Settlement”.

Of course, an unexplored “settlement” was like honey for us kids. After climbing straight uphill from the valley behind the “three chimneys ruin” (picture below), we dropped down a very steep trail to get to the settlement which actually turned out to be the remains of only two cabins, and perhaps a root cellar, or prospect pit. We kids managed to get there alone, or in pairs; on horse or on foot. For us, finding that hidden jewel was breathtaking, I mean, it really was. The area seemed closed off from the outside, almost stuffy like the wind hardly ever blew there.

Very few of the cabins remained, and if you were not careful, you could easily miss one or both of the foundations. Sometimes, I only saw one. There was a sign that read “wagon road,” two mounds, and the huge boulder on the right if you were coming from Greenwood Park.



‘The Green Settlement is a historic homestead site in North Cheyenne Cañon Park, Colorado Springs, Colorado. The remains of the settlement are located in a forest below Daniels Pass. Green’s Settlement Hike – a 6-mile hike along mostly easy trails with some climbing (1,200’ vertical). It is an out and back route from Pulloff 21 – Daniel’s Pass Trail and connecting Daniel’s Pass Trail, Sweetwater Trail, and Greenwood Path. Plan on a 3-hour hike.“


I remember my sister Sandy found a crumbling rusted-out lantern frame near one of the foundations. On another occasion, we with our cousins, managed to climb the giant rock. It took some effort, but we ate sack lunches up there until we felt a bit eerie and decided to leave. Maybe Clara had joined us, lol. We’d follow the faint trail back down the gully to the mysterious three chimneys, and back to Basing’s, the home we knew in the valley at the time. The land had changed hands several times, and now it was the Basing’s property.

 By now, you’ve probably figured out that the mysterious “Greenwood Settlement” was the property of the courageous Clarra Cassatt. Why Clara’s place was known as the “Green Settlement” is a mystery, as is the name Green in Greenwood Park. There’s another mystery. Who built those structures that held the three lonely stone chimneys, and who burned them down? Maybe you can find the answers.

Photo (below) by Eric Swab


Frederic R. Smith, a Colorado Springs banker, replaced Bertha’s family and friends, as the energetic owner who had big dreams in the Sweetwater Valley.

A 1928 Gazette article mentions that the road that branches off the Old Stage Road near the “Voss Chimney” was Frederick Smith’s private auto access. Eric Swab told me the work was done by Henry B. Martin (Bertha’s son-in-law) along with a Mr. Mosier the owner of the property “south of Greenwood Park” Whatever that meant.

Frederick likely built a summer house and 8 ponds for trout at the canyon. However, nothing definitive of his home remains except a charming photo of a nice house overlooking a pond, in a clipping that Eric found, and a couple of small pond basins. I vaguely remember seeing two or three cement-ringed basins way down the meadow below Basing’s home in the 50s and 60s. Several other broken earthwork dams once held fish, of course, there is nothing left to see in 2024 when my sisters and I last saw the meadow.


Remnants of those ponds must have been the inspiration for my dad to build his trout dams in Twilight Canyon.

Our house overlooked the middle of the dam, much like Frederick’s home in the photo.

I feel pretty certain Smith built the reservoir and pumphouse up by the bridge over Sweetwater Creek, which was destroyed by Subsequent owners, toward the upper-end of the valley. Frederick may have been the reason for the many raspberry bushes in that area, as well as the currants along the reservoir’s rim. This makes sense since the bushes did not seem to grow anywhere else in the valley. It is uncertain whether he built the music house and the garage, and I can’t recall who else might have done so.

Further down the valley from those properties, to the southeast, where the canyon walls become very steep, there is a junction where Sweetwater Creek flows into South Cheyenne Creek. It was there that in 1926 Frederick proposed to construct a huge 75-foot-tall dam. It never came to be, I guess.

But I remember chunks of cement and lots of iron rust littered the stream in that area, so who knows? If he had managed to complete it, we Mulbergers probably would not have lived where we did, and the folks at Seven Falls would have had a serious fit.

A few years back, Eric sent me this article that would have fit into that general area.
Article supplied by Eric Swab


Fred, the banker later sold the property to Frank Cheeks, who passed it along to his daughter Dorothy Smith. Dorothy was the curator of the Pioneer Museum in Colorado Springs. She then bought it back in 1944. Eric has a photo of her sitting atop a horse. She was the second Rodeo Queen at Pike’s Peak or Bust Rodeo.

The Pikes Peak or Bust Rodeo has been a Colorado Springs tradition since 1937, showcasing the top rodeo talent and action, while providing wholesome entertainment for the Pikes Peak community to enjoy.”



Dorothy owned Georgianna Russell’s place between 1944 and 1948. She sold the land in 1948 to my dad, Hank C. Mulberger, and his friend, Myrtle Basing. Basing apparently never platted the land in Sweetwater Canyon, and his name, oddly, doesn’t appear in the ownership records. Another one of those mysteries.

Myrtle (Mert) Basing was a friend of Dad’s from back in Wisconsin. He was a Green Bay Packer from the thirties, and or, forties – when there was no padding on the uniforms, and the helmets were made of leather with long ear flaps, as the only real protection. He was the co-pilot who flew over the property with Dad when they decided to buy the 160 acres and split it into 80 acres each.

Basing’s gorgeous resort-like home was faced with logs. I thought it was a log home, but the back and side walls were formed with cement. The entrance opened into a humongous living room with a lovely fireplace in the middle of the east-facing wall, and at that end, there were two large picture windows. There were two sets of other picture windows in the living room, one on each side of the front door.

At the west end, there was a kitchen smallish and quaint, and a stove that I thought was wood or coal, which was always busy baking bread, or some such. That stove was later changed for a gas range, probably from Montgomery Ward’s. Most of our furnishings seem to have come from the “Monkey Wards” catalog at the time. There was a side-door exit, beyond a pantry and perhaps a small bathroom. The exit was out near the retaining wall between the house and the garage. Later, a propane tank was installed by that wall.

There were three levels. A half-level up featured the bedrooms and a bathroom, arranged along an enticing, pine-paneled hallway. The half-level had an unobstructed view of the living room below it. The hall ended in a door that opened – but went nowhere – except down – I guess the steps never got made. At the other end of the lovely pine board hall, toward the kitchen, was a linen closet, and to its left were a few stairs that led up to an expansive, open loft with a piano, then the dining area and long living room lay below the loft.

Laurette Basing was very kind and tried to teach Sandy and me needlework. I remember she had one of the old tomato style needle sharpeners. She also prepared and tended the most beautiful perennial garden I have ever seen. It was loaded with beautiful blooms.



She had several colors of columbines, hollyhocks, and snapdragons; she showed us how to open and close their tiny mouths. There were also glorious daylilies and tiger lilies, as well as morning glories, foxgloves, delphinium, dahlias, gladiolus, and Johnny jump-up pansies. Most memorable though, were the Irises. Her Irises were unbelievably big and beautiful and came in mauve and maroon, and many shades we’d never seen before. Sandy and I got our life-long love of irises in that garden.

In the 1960s my favorite memories were picking red raspberries that must have gone wild all along the road from the bridge. where buildings once stood. My sisters and brothers -Val, Fella, Peter, Sandy and I, would carry pitchers of the treasured fruit to Eleanor, who became part of our family after my mom, Peg’s death. Eleanor’s jam was marvelous. Only once, do I remember competing for the berries with the bears, at the Basing’s place. We left! In our 2024 visit, there was not a single raspberry or current bush to be found! Too many flash floods.

When we last saw Laurette’s Garden beneath the patio wall, on a nostalgia trip at a family reunion in the early 1990’s, the retaining walls were gone, and it was a ruin. All of us kids were together when we looked at what was left of the burnt building. There were still some brave, volunteer irises in the old bed, under where the patio once was. Through the decades, Sandy and I dug some to take with us wherever we went, as a reminder of that lovely place and time. In 2024 we noticed brave sentinel irises popping up around the meadow because the flower bed from nearly 70 years ago been destroyed.

The expansive cinder block patio bricks above the garden had been pink and gray. I remember looking out the screen door from the Basing’s living room, watching a cat come softly padding-right across the patio toward me. It was about my height and had beautiful white markings around its mouth and eyes – which were staring right at me – about two feet away. At first, I was awed by its beauty, then it got creepy and I was frozen.

I tried to say something to Mom about the kitty, and eventually, she and Laurette stepped over and closed the door on the cougar. Looking back, I can see that it was curious rather than threatening – but still, a flimsy screen in a door is too fragile for protection. We went all over those mountains and never got eaten, although Sandy had another close encounter at our house, which wasn’t far from the Basing’s, and it could easily have been the same animal.

The Basing’s had two domestic cats; one lived until it was 16, the other maybe 12 or 14. That was the longest I’d ever heard of at that time. Most outdoor cats, even today, live 6 or 7 years. They also had a dog, a huge German Shepherd. Our parents had that dog’s brother, whom they loved and they called him “Big Mike.”

Photo of Peg and Big Mike. Hank and Peg, once called it the “honeymoon shack”.


For some weird, unknown reason the Basing’s dog came over into our canyon one day, and attacked Mom from the back when she was hanging out laundry on the clothesline in the yard outside the kitchen window. I think it bit her back and arms, then she ran into the house to get a .22 pistol and shot the dog in the head trying to kill it, but the bullet lodged in its skull, and the animal ran home. The dog didn’t die, but the Basing’s were horrified by the fact that Mom had shot their beloved pet.

For their part, Mom and Dad could not believe the Basing’s were unsympathetic to Mom’s circumstance. This was a catastrophic event that happened around 1956-7. Mert and Laurette refused to get rid of the dog, and unfortunately, that ended their long-time friendship. Sadly, Mr. Basing died shortly after that from a heart attack.
We children felt awful but didn’t know what to do. . .

************

PART THREE Will Be Posted
Very Soon!
Author Diane Olsen

A Unique Story of “The Settled History of Sweetwater Canyon.” A Three Part Essay. Part One…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

The first travelers or temporary residents we hear about are the Cheyennes, Arapahos, and the Utes. However, people have dwelt in the Americas for at least 22,000 years and some would take that figure back to 135,000 years. So, who really knows?

Here’s what we do know. The first entry for homesteaders probably came from North Cheyenne Canyon on the South side of Pike’s Peak, because the Mt. Cutler Trail, also known as Danieal’s Pass, likely preceded any land ownership by whites in the Sweetwater Canyon area of what became known as Greenwood Park.

That trail may have previously been used for logging, or perhaps, for shepherds taking sheep to pastures.


The City of Colorado Springs officially began in 1871, and by 1873 all of the land up the canyons had been surveyed. Licenses for homesteads began to pop up all over the region by the end of the 1870’s, through to the 1890’s.

William Dixon homesteaded in the foothills of South Cheyenne Canyon in 1874, then built a tavern along the route up Cheyenne Mountain. Early on, there was a simple path called the Cheyenne Mountain Trail by early settlers traveling to the Southwest flank of Pikes Peak. That trail grew into a lumber road before gold was discovered up in Cripple Creek. Then Mr. Dixon turned into a toll road.

Once that happened, Joel H. Wade built his cabins, known for a while as Wade City, and hosted the stage stop at a bend in the Old Stage Road, just past the Shelf Road, in the 1880s and 1890s. Seven Falls was another notable homestead near the base of South Cheyenne Canyon. It was claimed by Nathan Colby in 1873 but was not yet an attraction.

There probably wasn’t a road access from the South Cheyenne Canyon to Greenwood Park until 1924, but there might have been a foot or horse path known as the Twilight Trail. If so, that trip would have been miles longer than the “Cutler Trail” access to Sweetwater Canyon.

In North Cheyenne Canyon, Edward Payson Tenney built a cabin in 1881, and the original Bruin Inn in 1884. That building burned in 1958. A smaller structure was constructed in 1916 or 1917. It later became a curio shop. We lived up the mountain in the 1950s to the late1980s, and to us, the North Cheyenne Canyon seemed pretty touristy, with attractions like the Helen Hunt Falls, and the Bruin Inn, compared to the part of the South Cheyenne Canyon that we called home.

Beyond the Inn, you could ride the Gold Camp Road through old railroad tunnels up onto the Corley Road, then on to Victor and Cripple Creek. As a kid riding my horse, I can tell you I imagined or thought I heard the phantom sounds of a coach in one of the tunnels and the isolated whistles of an unseen train.


How many tunnels are on Gold Camp Road?

Many of the locals in the Colorado Springs area are familiar with the legends surrounding the arched Gold Camp rail tunnels. Originally there were nine of the passageways dug into the hills, but as railroad travel in the area dwindled, three of the tunnels succumbed to age and vandalism and collapsed.


It seemed to appear the first reasonable entry point for what is now called “Greenwood Park” (though we never heard, nor used that name when we lived there) would have been a southern tail of the Mt. Cutler Trail, which became important around 1884.

To the best of my memory, we accessed that piece of the trail from the Gold Camp Road after passing through the first tunnel. Two of the tunnels had collapsed in the 1980s blocking the lower portion of the Gold Camp Road, at one time the road was easily traveled.

Once travelers drop down into the Sweetwater Canyon, several large parcels are dividing the valley. One of the earliest settlers was Georgiana Russell, who immediately filed her claim for a 160-acre ranch in 1884. Her patent was issued in 1889, making her one of the first settlers, as far as I know.

That brave woman apparently moved out West for her health, which never completely improved. When she felt a little better, she returned to the East and promptly died. This happened long before the access road was built, so her egress probably would have been the Cutler Trail.

In 1888 Bertha E. Bourne homesteaded 160 acres and then received the patent for Greenwood Park; more as an investment opportunity, than for a permanent residence. Bertha later gave it to her daughter, who sold it to (a) Mr. McNulty.


Map Above by Eric Swab.
Two of his maps are included in this document but he says “he will be making corrections and send them to me later.” Yet this gives the general idea of some of the old cabins, some are not included. You can ask me if you wish, but they aren’t on pertinent acreage.


A Map and Look Today



About ten years later, Ms. Clara Cassatt homesteaded a 160-acre parcel in the gully to the North toward the Gold Camp Road. She received a patent to occupy on April 26, 1893. How it worked was that a person applied for a license, then occupied the land for 5 years, proving intention to settle, before receiving a patent.

Or, they could simply pay $1.25 an acre to receive the patent early. She chose that path. The canyons became full of such homesteads. Clara lived north of Bertha Bourne’s piece, so, they were neighbors connected by the Cutler Trail. Ms. Cassatt built two cabins from local trees, across from a gigantic, solitary boulder.

My friend, and historian, Eric Swab told me Clara parked her wagon to the side of the North Cheyenne Canyon Road. Trey Spiller, who currently lives in an improved version of our childhood home, told me Eric knows where that spot is, though it is meaningless to me. She removed the wheels when she parked. When she needed to go to town, she first had to re-install those wheels – every time – so her wagon wouldn’t be stolen.



Today Some As Can you drive Gold Camp Road to Cripple Creek?
“This is not a challenging road, but it connects Colorado Springs to Cripple Creek and other great 4×4 roads on the way. It was initially a Ute Indian Trail and then a rail line. It features extensive views, especially in the fall when the aspens turn.


It beats me how any of those women hauled supplies in or out, using that trail! God bless them. Tough for me to believe that it was, at one time, the main thoroughfare since I found it to be such a weird little trail when I traveled it by horse in the 1960s. It was very easy to get off trail, and not even know it happened. I had to imagine where the path might have been, and zig zag across the gully to pick it up again.
It was tough going, and steep to climb up or down, near the Gold Camp Road. . .

People say there might be a sign there now, and many more hikers than in the mid-1900s.
That should help.

************

PART TWO Will Be Posted
Very Soon!
Author Diane Olsen

A Special Poem and New Shard Story for Valentine’s Day… Introducing The ‘Rising Wind’ Series of Novels and Book One ‘The Thunder Beings,’ and How The Series Begins.

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment


MIST

Early in the morning

In the wake of rain

The drowsy trees exist

Draped in silence

And a distant thunder

Rolls… along

Beads of sunlight drip

Off water spotted ferns

The forest now breathes

And a distant thunder

Rolls along. . .


**********



About Book One ~ The Thunder Beings

When impassioned paleontologist Secora James is summoned to South America to confirm or dispel rumors of a creature long thought extinct, she lands herself in more trouble than she had ever imagined. Secora knows that the Mapinguari, a giant ground sloth that rivals King Kong for size, is probably just a local myth dreamed up by the indigenous tribes. 
Or is it?
Gideon Yellow Thunder is Montana’s top real estate broker and is perfectly content with his modern life, choosing to leave behind his Lakota heritage in order to lead a life of wealth and success. But when he starts having visions of bison on the open prairie, he feels compelled to act. . .
Now two separate lives are on a collision course as Gideon sets off for the jungles of Brazil to find a woman he’s never met and protect the sacred beings he’d long given up believing in—the Thunderbirds. Could they be real after all?
Or are they just a myth?
Gideon’s about to find out in an adventure of a lifetime, where everything he’d pushed aside is determined to leave its mark on his life.

*********

A Shard Story of Book One “The Thunder Beings”


A New Vision

Gideon Yellow Thunder shuddered back from his startling daydream. Mitch was squinting into his face, worry wrinkles etched onto his forehead. “You okay, dude? I heard you crash on the stairwell.”

********


Gideon Yellow Thunder tapped his pencil eraser on the desk as he finished a call from an eager business property buyer. He hung up thinking that was too easy. Kicking his chair back, he stretched and yawned. Then smiling confidently, he clipped together a few pages before standing up and slipping them neatly into a filing cabinet behind his desk.

Mitch, Gideon’s string bean of an assistant, and Jeannie, their resourceful secretary, were setting up a snack table for a party celebrating the continued success of Treasuremont Realty as it successfully shifted its way through Y2K.

“You’d think a hundred people were coming.” Gideon smiled. “We’ll have leftover snacks for the rest of the year.” He closed the file drawer and wandered over for a cup of punch.

“Hey, Jeannie, hope the company lasts as long as all these snacks.”

“That’s your job, sugar.”

He grinned, then sipped, “Yum, Seven-Up and…?”

“Cranberry juice.”

“I was just going to say that. Here’s to us!”

The office crew was about the only “family” Gideon acknowledged, though he had a younger sister who attended the local university. Jane was a nice girl, but their paths never seemed to cross. When she wasn’t attending classes, she took her breaks on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, staying with their mother, grandmother, and her son, Kyah.

The old doublewide on Bigfoot Road was twelve hours away, but that was still too close for Gideon. He wanted to stay as far away as he possibly could from his childhood home and the dysfunction he remembered.

Gideon’s eyes focused solidly on Mitch, who was now moving toward him with a certificate and a gift box. “What’s this stuff?” “Another annual certificate of appreciation from the Montana International Business Brokers Association saying you’re the best, and a little acknowledgment from your partner.” Mitch tipped his head in the direction of Glen Greenbriar, then popped a Frito into his mouth and wandered off.

Glen sat slumped in his chair with his chin idly cupped in one hand, adding drops of Angostura bitters to his whisky with the other to make his favorite drink, an old-fashioned. His desk sported a figurine Gideon hadn’t noticed before—a shrunken head. The face had brown skin, and a shiny green tooth, and bore a caption: My Retirement Plan.

That’s odd, thought Gideon, for several reasons. He glanced over the certificate, then surveyed the crowded wall behind his desk. Where the heck am I going to put this one? He sighed and set the certificate on his polished monkey wood desk. Grabbing the box with smooth manicured fingers, Gideon began to rummage through the curious assortment of packing materials. “Keep digging,” offered Glen. At length, Gideon located a two-inch clear plastic case in the midst of all the newspaper shreds and styrofoam peanuts.
“Wow, Glen, a penknife?”
He flipped it over. Hmm, no engraving. He sorted the box and packing materials into his garbage and recycling bins. Stray bits drifted to the floor.
While he was gathering the shreds, his hand bumped across a small object. He brought up a white marble that looked like it had been squished, the kind that people sometimes put into vases. Closer examination showed it had green specks peeking through. That’s different. He popped it into his shirt pocket. He turned toward Glen and pressed a finger thoughtfully against his lips regarding his partner whose wavy red hair was turning mostly gray. “What’s the knife for? I already have a letter opener.”

Between crunched chips, Glen made a suggestion. “Go skin a buffalo.”

“What… Excuse me?” Gideon stammered in shock.

“You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”

“You know I am. Why is that important?”

No answer. Gideon narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t minded that he had been hired to do the heavy lifting, while Glen phased out and retired. He’d even shrugged off the fact that his colleague had no love for anyone whose skin tones were different from his own. He learned early on from Mitch that Glen’s great-great-grandfather had been part of the 7th US Cavalry and an eager participant in two massacres during the late 1800s. These actions, no doubt, affected Gideon’s family, personally. Mitch said that Glen believed his ancestor was justified in the killings, regardless of the truth that time had since revealed.

Gideon tapped the table with anxious fingers. Maybe Glen had a tumor, or a demon on his tail. Maybe his great-great-grandfather was looking for a comeback. Whatever the cause, this was not business as usual.

“I was going to get you a bronze plaque partner, but…” Glen fidgeted with his glass, then belched. “Well, never mind, the plaque will have to wait. You got the damn award, and we got you that fine piece of cutlery.” His blue eyes turned to ice. “Clearly, Gideon, you’re worth every cent.”

Gideon Yellow Thunder was taken by surprise and rubbed his brow. Glen got up from his chair and stormed toward the buffet. Something was definitely fractured in their partnership, and he wondered how much longer the arrangement would last.

Eight and a half years ago, he’d given a talk at a business conference in Seattle on Seizing the Day. Glen had approached him afterward using words like “impressive” and “charismatic” that poured from his lips. Glen’s eyes smiled as he used phrases like “changemaker” and “closer” and “just the man.” Gideon would fit right in at Glen’s classy realty shop.

Despite Gideon’s hesitation to move to Missoula, Montana, he’d been excited about working for a legend in the profession. At first, the praise was almost constant. Glen assured Gideon he was doing the work of any three decent agents. Things had been good. But honest interaction between them was quickly fading. With a sigh, he put on his headphones and pulled up the quarterly accounting spreadsheets on his computer.

He flicked through several screens before he slowed down to focus on the figures for travel expenses. 
Something’s off. 
His finger traced the lines of expenditures that seemed not only out of place but way out of line with their budget. His calculator couldn’t make the problem go away and suddenly, there was more than racism bothering him.
Perhaps he had just uncovered one source of the problems with their partnership. Before he said anything to Glen, he’d check the figures against the budget history with an external accountant. He copied the questionable expenses onto a DVD, which he slid into his back pocket while exiting the computer.

He cleared the desk except for the new certificate and snatched his silk and cashmere suit coat from a hall tree. As he slid into the jacket, Gideon lifted his hair, which was neatly longer in the back, over his collar. He noticed Glen’s eyes were fixed on him. For show, he flipped the little silver steel knife into the air, smiled, then dropped it into his pocket.
“Never know when a knife will come in handy.” Glen growled, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Not feeling well. I think I need to stay away from the punch.”

“You think Jeannie spiked it?”

Gideon shrugged.
“Well, go ahead, partner, enjoy a long easy weekend.
But if you’re not back Monday, Stevenson here will have your job.”

Gideon returned and placed his hands on Glen’s desk, looking directly into his eyes, he said slowly, “What are you getting at?”
“Don’t think you’re irreplaceable.” Glen emptied the whisky bottle into his glass.
Gideon’s mood plunged. “We’re partners.”

Greenbriar stared back and smacked the whisky bottle down on the desk, causing the new bauble to jiggle.

“Take it easy, Glen.” I’m not just talking about the drinking. Yellow Thunder wrinkled his brow and pushed his hands away from the desk. He pointed to the shrunken head. “That’s new. A souvenir?”

The stand for the head was surrounded by a tiny terrarium. Little palm trees sprouted from a white beach made of squished marbles like the one he’d found on the floor.
Glen grinned like a hyena. “Something like that.”

“Aren’t their mouths usually sewn shut like their eyes?”

“Yeah, but I had custom dentures made for this guy.” Glen brushed a finger against his nose. “He’s smiling because he’s a retiree. Kinda like I’ll be, very soon.”

Gideon became momentarily distracted when he thought he heard the boom of distant thunder. But the sunny sky out the window gave no sign of a storm. He shrugged it off and started to leave the office. “Bye, everybody. Have a fantastic weekend.” Jeannie and Mitch looked surprised.

Gideon offered as an explanation, “Not feeling too great.” Suddenly that statement felt very real. Two steps into the stairwell Gideon’s tall frame collapsed. He nearly fell to the first stair as he grabbed for the rail. Lightning flashed, and immediately the thunderclap boomed and echoed. 

That was way too close, he thought. I smell ozone. Clouds swarmed in his mind’s eye. He tried to shake them off, but now he could feel and hear the shrieking wind around him as he watched the storm descend on a Pine Ridge meadow.

At first, the bison calves danced and charged the gusty air, but before long, a strangely rising wind caused them to bawl and bolt for the herd’s protected inner circle. The growling of distant thunder disturbed a few of the anxious cows, who raised their muzzles from the summer grass.

The mothers began to call and sniff their babies. The cottonwoods by Porcupine Creek lifted the white undersides of their leaves as they beckoned and ached for the rain. Thunderheads swallowed the last eerie yellow light, and the storm was on. Thunder crashed over the land and the animals. The small bison herd froze with foreboding.

Swift darkness swept over the herd-like sinister magic once, then twice. Two of the calves were gone with the crack of thunder. The trees bent even further, and the squall splattered fat raindrops on nearby rocks. Next came the hail, smashing and bouncing through a bunch of grass and bushes, obliterating everything from view.

Gideon Yellow Thunder shuddered back from his startling daydream. Mitch was squinting into his face, worry wrinkles etched onto his forehead. “You okay, dude? I heard you crash on the stairwell.”

Gideon rallied, shaking the strong prairie images that had assailed him without warning. Mitch sighed with relief and helped Gideon to his feet. “Thanks, Mitch, I’m not feeling well. Better get home.
See you Monday.”

Mitch didn’t seem convinced, so Gideon made himself smile, however weakly, and wobbled down the steps, his hands gripping the railings. He still couldn’t believe it. His thoughts had just been violently overtaken by a vision of bison and the shadows of gigantic birds. Why in the world? How? He’d tried so hard to push that Indian nonsense away from him and now this…this daydream that made no sense, literally came crashing down around him.
“Unbelievable, he murmured to no one”
Outside, he was surprised to see slate-colored clouds crawling across the sky, rapidly consuming what had been a bright afternoon. He choked in the muggy air. Loosening his tie and opening the shirt collar, he stepped over the curb to cross the street to his car. A bank clock read two-thirty, and traffic was slow. Almost no one was visible on streets that would be swamped within half an hour. He fumbled with the knife in his pocket. “Just about useless.“

Sparkles of distant lightning danced among the blue-black clouds that billowed in. He shivered. It reminded him of the strange daydream that seemed so real. Gideon reached the other side of the street just as lightning flashed with a nearly simultaneous thunderclap. Damn, that couldn’t have been even a thousand yards away. Am I in that blinking dream again? 
He looked up to the stormy sky. A metallic light flashed from the roof of his office building across the street. He squinted to get a better view, shading the last of the sunlight from his eyes with his hand. His attention was snatched from the roof by the shadow of a low-flying plane that came ripping through the clouds. Stunned, Gideon dropped his arms and stood by his car in total disbelief.

A whining sound increased as the approaching craft quickly descended. Its shadow swept over him just as his driver’s side window shattered only inches from his hand. His jaw dropped as he noticed a visible pit appear in the passenger door. Upholstery stuffing, that was hanging precariously, fell to the floor. Finally, able to react, he panicked and crept around to the more protected side of the BMW.

Is someone shooting at me? 
From the back tire, he lifted his head a few inches to take another peek. Amazingly, the plane he’d thought was perhaps a Cessna 182 flapped its wings. The whooshing sound across the feathers of a bird, whose body size exceeded three times that of an ostrich, sounded like a cross between the shriek of wind through a well-ventilated abandoned shack and the reverberating impact of thunder—comparable to a jet engine. The avian zeroed in on a man with a rifle standing on the rooftop while Gideon gaped in astonishment. Just then, a sharp sizzle of lightning turned the world a silent white. . .

**********

Momentarily, Gideon was one with a warm golden-white universe. Atom for atom, he was willed into motion with millions of superheated particles. For that awesome interval, he was part of the oneness of all matter and energy, a unified component of all that existed. He was One.After an unfathomable increment of time, he separated and returned to semi-consciousness, his senses hyper-aware. There was an overwhelming aroma of pine needles, and the staccato beat of raindrops bounced from the car’s roof. He tried to move, but everything went dark“…



Readers can now read the full story about Gideon and Secora within the first book that begins their journey in the ‘Rising Wind series!’ Packed with romance and exciting mysteries they solve around the globe!

The full series is now available on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback. https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks

Let’s Connect>> https://dianeolsenauthor.allauthor.com/



“ADAM” A Shard Story From My Book Ancient Ways: The Roots of Religion. Happy New Year…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment


Most of us have an idea about the story of Adam.

For some, He is the First human. Others see Him as the first Prophet of this last age. If Adam was the first man ever created – when was that – 8 million years ago, or 13,000, or 3,000 years ago? In Genesis, Adam is considered the first man. Yet, He may have actually lived during the time of the great starvation.

Adam and Eve are said to have covered themselves with fig leaves in Eden, but their family is said to be fully clothed farmers living among other agricultural people. He and Eve were noted as parents (or more likely ancestors) of farmers of sporadic, domestic herds and crops, somewhere around 13,000 to 10,000 years ago. The Quran says Adam and Eve were created in heaven, and then sent to earth.

The Great Prophets or Manifestations, all concur They were created before coming to earth – as were we. But, in the Torah and the Bible, Adam is made from mud, and Eve, from one of His ribs. Each Great Prophet, or Manifestation of God’s will, was the bearer of the Holy Spirit for a new Age of human development – at times this great Holy Spirit is surprised that we haven’t reached a higher stage of maturity since the last visit.

In mortal bodies, Adam and Eve became God’s representatives and lived in a place referred to as Eden. A place where all their needs were met, until Eve gave Adam the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In the Qur’an, it is claimed that Adam gave Eve that forbidden fruit. Either way, they became enmeshed in the conflict between Good and Evil on earth.

With the encouragement of a snaky tempter, perhaps they made the material choice between good and evil and were evicted from Eden. Did God punish them and make them leave Eden? In the Quran, it was they who turned away from their Creator; turning towards something more worldly for a time. They later grieved the loss of connection with God. When they realized their mistake, and knew His disappointment and displeasure. They felt a great remorse, and realized that they were unable to find food.



When they were driven out from paradise, they made themselves a booth, and spent seven days mourning and lamenting in great grief. But after seven days, they began to be hungry and started to look for victual to eat, and they found it not. Then Eve said to Adam: ‘My lord, I am hungry. Go, look for (something) for us to eat. Perchance the Lord God will look back and pity us and recall us to the place in which we were before.’ And Adam arose and walked seven days over all that land, and found no victual such as they used to have in paradise.”

~Genesis, King James Bible


This brings up an environmental question.

It seems that after leaving Eden, Adam and Eve suffered from a horrible famine, similar to that experienced elsewhere in the postglacial world. As the glaciers melted, the land and even the rivers dried up. The animals and fish disappeared and there was tremendous suffering. Perhaps Adam and Eve were unable to cling to the Revelation that was the very purpose for their existence. There were reasons – sanity was deteriorating.

People everywhere were starving to death, fighting over scraps, and resorting to cannibalism. This is recorded in other recollections, as in the Persian memory of those times. Mashya and Mashyana, while guarding the new Revelation of Gayomart, in Zoroastrian texts; (in Persian, Keyomars), had to eat their precious child. Quite possibly, Adam and Eve starved to death along with many of those living in the post-glacial drying regions.

So, did the serpent represent human frailty or a need for a material attachment to the earth for existence? In those desperate times, the Ancient Faith was again corrupted. People made sacrifices to the rain god or a fertility goddess. Maybe Adam’s followers chose idol worship; praying to elements as gods, or calling on personifications, icons, or statues, for specific personal favors like finding food, water, or freedom from having to eat, or be eaten by those around them.

********

Leaving Eden means so little as a sentence, but understanding the real-life environmental drama gives significance to those words. Our ancestors could no longer satisfy their needs from the forests and the waters. Many died from outright hunger, thirst, or cannibalism. Adam and Eve were likely unable to hold onto the holy Revelation. Some humans endured, but perhaps Adam and Eve did not.

This is our human history – and may God forgive us – maybe our future too. Again, we’re faced with global warming, starvation, and death as rivers shrink and storms rage. However, in God’s mercy, starvation became the engine that impelled humanity to tame plants in their desperate hopes for survival. Over time, Adam and Eve’s descendants became ancestors to early farmers like Cain and Able who learned to raise and defend patches of herbs, vegetables, grains, and fruit. They even confined a few treasured animals in small breeding flocks; all the while trying to defend their tiny farms from fierce raiders and starving neighbors.

The concept of sacred white bulls, and not eating sacred cows, is an ancient remnant of those times. With the guidance of several succeeding Great Prophets, this process eventually led to the grouping of farmers into communities, or early cities defended by warriors, and ruled by law. Civilization had started its path. Eventually, there was enough food to initiate barter, then trade; forming routes for the transfer of goods and ideologies. Does this layering of the exploits of an early Prophet’s life sound familiar?

In the stories of the first remembered Great Prophets, the shreds of memory cover thousands of years, yet only one name serves as the “First”, though many Prophets whose names were forgotten over time, came in between their age and the age of the next remembered Prophet. Besides Adam, other first-remembered Prophets you’ll want to check out are: Nu Wa, Gayomart, Rama, and Fu-Xi. Adam’s Revelation was followed in sequence by Seth, on the flickering cusp of domestication.

Seth’s descendants built two pillars inscribed with many scientific discoveries and inventions – notably in astronomy in order to protect the knowledge so it could be remembered after the destructions of flood and fire, which Adam had predicted. One was composed of brick, and the other of stone, so that if the pillar of brick should be destroyed, the pillar of stone would remain. Enoch, known by many names like Hermes, Thoth, and Idris worldwide, gifted us His massive Revelation before the flood. His philosophies, sciences, and libraries still influence our societies today.

********

Our first remembered Prophet’s painted for us a tremendously long prehistory. They brought richness and noble beauty to the development of human religion, society, and culture. They took on the forces of evil rulers, idolatry, and ignorance to renew the Ancient Faith. They had one goal – for humans to worship the Supreme Creator: to purify their hearts and to turn away from self and materialistic distractions; to refrain from forming cults and making offerings to various elements, talismans, idols, or icons in order to get something in return.

The Ones we can name guided us through three global stages. First, the hunter-gatherers who lived in lush lands in times of relative plenty. Next, a cold, drying climate caused starvation and cannibalism. Finally, they drew a path for the success of domestication, agriculture, and trade; then guided us through the glimmerings of civilization, helping us achieve a civil, just, and compassionate organization of society. Each, renewed the ancient Faith of God, which was tarnished time and again, by human perceptions and changes to the holy Word.

And that renewal continues today.

**********


I am pleased to have shared an excerpt from my first published book, “Ancient Ways: The Roots of Religion“…
My hope is that this brief preview will inspire you to purchase and read the entire book. It explores the connections between the beginning of the Earth and our present times, highlighting various topics that demonstrate our unity as one humanity.

It is available from Amazon in
Paperback and Kindle
https://www.amazon.com/dp/0996756558/



ABOUT THE BOOK: 

To enjoy this book you may have to suspend current beliefs, since some of the concepts may seem quite foreign at first. What if monotheism always existed, and revelations were given to all human forms. There are hints to that effect. We should not assume primitive peoples weren’t smart enough to grasp the concept of a single Creator!

Too often we tweak religion to reflect our personal thoughts rather than dealing directly with the Word of God.  Monotheism, today is represented by at least nine living faiths, yet praying to God alone is not enough, for many. Instead, we pray to Prophets, angels, saints, ancestors, deities, and even the universe.

This creates a chain of “Paths” and “Ways” that become stained, over time, by human desires for control and material benefits. And as darkness and materialism overtake one Faith, another is born, through the intervention of the Holy Spirit, which is clothed in a different form, with a new name, and very familiar teachings.

Like the Tree of Life, monotheism can be visualized as a chain linking prehistory and history, entwined with human additions, wisps, and twists that produce an undulating, ultimate Yin and Yang. This constant interaction of complementary, as well as conflicting, forces and energies, exhibits both organic unity and dynamism-even war. Those who suspect there is a unified core of basic beliefs will enjoy Ancient Ways.

Hopefully, you will find precious gems to take with you.

Happy New Year & Winter Reading!



“Steve” New Shard Story From Book 5 ‘Rock My Soul’ of ‘The Rising Wind Series’ of Novels…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

An enormous being, a thunderbird known by some as, “Wakinyan Tanka,” became part of my life twelve years ago. Our telepathic connection was the entire reason I met my wife, Secora, who recently brought our son, Steve, into the world.
We couldn’t be happier.

As Wakinyan Tanka lay dying on the rugged Armenian mountain, she asked telepathically, if I was willing to connect with one of her offspring.

Now we owe our lives to another Argentavis Magnificens, “White Feather”, one of Wakinyan’s last daughters. She, along with my nephew, Kyah, saved us that night.
But, finding out about the pregnancy was interesting…

******

My wife, Secora, had been in an automobile accident, and we were in the Jackson Hole hospital. I tried to rouse her. She groaned in response, tried to open her eyes, and attempted to sit up.

“Ow.”

“Just stay down for now. Can you see anything?”

“A little, but Gideon, it’s dark. Are we still in the cave?”

I was puzzled at first, and then asked her “Do you mean the

cave in Africa where our friend, Mosa, was killed by the scimitar-toothed cat?”

“No, the one Destiny sent me to, today.”

“Sorry, that was three days ago. Secora, you’re in a hospital. You’ve been kept asleep to let the swelling in your brain diminish before you start moving around.”

Our adopted daughter, Monta, interrupted, announcing, “Guess what Mom, I’m going to have a baby brother.”

“Gideon, what is she saying?”
“She’s been telling me that for the last hour.”

Secora didn’t respond, she’d closed her eyes and looked as though she was thinking.

“Mom, did you hear me?”

She winced and said, “I did dear. That’s wonderful, but it’s a little more than I can handle at the moment.”

Monta, was undeterred and continued, “He likes the name,

Steve – in case you are wondering.”

Secora did a double take, focusing on Monta’s words, until

the physician arrived.

Before he had a chance to speak Monta emphasized, “Don’t forget, Mom, STEVE.”

*****

The day didn’t start as a tragedy. Secora and I had been showing a listed property in the Plains area West of the Flathead Reservation. It seemed like a good idea for us to go on this outing together, to get Secora away from her stresses and worries.

In the fading sunset, the client waved goodbye. With a strange look on her face, Secora turned to me and said, “Gideon, I think my water just broke.” We hurried into the truck and followed an access road to the highway that would take us to Missoula.

Although it was evening and we were miles from the hospital, she was beginning to feel excited about becoming a mom. But things turned ugly on the access road when we had a blowout in the right rear tire. It was tough to retain control of the vehicle on the old, cracked pavement.

I knew the tires were practically new and that something was off. The moon had yet to rise, and it was pitch dark as I pulled over and cut the engine. Suddenly, we heard the roar of another truck, and headlights closing in quickly from behind. Then a shot rang out.

“Get out Secora. We have to leave, NOW!” I dashed over to open the door and led her off into the darkened

brush toward an obscured ravine on our right. A deer trail took us away from the lights. We stumbled along as quickly as we could.

Secora moaned, “Oh my God,”

Behind us we heard the other truck leave the road, and lights indicated it was headed in our direction. Three squeaky doors opened and then slammed.

Moving as quickly as possible over to the edge of a ravine, we dropped more than three hundred feet, in a series of layers. My eyes strained to focus as we jogged along one fork of a path that wandered along the top of a gully. We stopped to catch our breath and I dialed my nephew, Kyah, who was a part of the search and rescue team, and quietly let him know we needed emergent assistance. I asked him to bring his search dog, “Penny”, then I gave him the coordinates for our rescue from my Satfon.

Secora and I were now dodging unseen bullets fired over the rim in our general direction. We moved from bush to bush, running for our lives in the pitch-dark night. She was hurting with regular contractions and I was panicked. Hiding behind the tumbleweeds wouldn’t be good enough. Eventually, our pursuers would catch up.

Out of desperation, I tried to get her to climb a small hill. There might be places to hide up there. Then, the thought of a pack of dogs treeing a mountain lion came to my mind. When the cat runs out of rocks to climb, it sometimes climbs a tree on the top – it has nowhere else to go. The dogs and the hunters find an easy target in the end.

I turned back to check Secora’s progress. She had stopped about ten feet back. I tried to coax her but she didn’t look good. She was doubled over, and when she looked up, I saw that her lips were blue.

“Honey, we can’t stop here. At the very least we need to reach those rocks about fifty feet away. Maybe we could hide from these wild bullets.”

She moaned through gritted teeth in response, “Can’t move… contraction….”

“Let me try to carry you.”



Lightning danced across the road as thunder rumbled.
Secora growled and fell to her knees. “No… can’t believe this is happening here. Please go, Gideon, one of us should live.”

At a complete loss, I knelt beside her and made sure she focused on her breathing. I was pretty sure she already was, but I didn’t know how else to help. Things became even more uncomfortable when rain began to blow in sheets.

In some ways it seemed refreshing, but it was cold. Even worse, I could no longer hear how close our pursuers were.

I began to quietly chant. “He-a-hey, hey-a-hey. Grandfather, I offer up everything to you. You are the Source…You are the end. We thank you for all you have given us. We thank you for this child. We will care for it as long as we can, then ask that You take him tenderly into Your care when the time comes.”

Suddenly, I heard something else: Heyoka, the nestling is coming. So am I.

“I have to push… it hurts.”

“Concentrate…focus.”

“O.K.A.Y.Y.Y.”

I thought I heard another gunshot and bent lower as lightning pirouetted with the ground. Thunder roared and rumbled. It was then I felt the presence of White Feather, who’d agreed to keep the connection after the ancient bird’s passing.

A predator is close to you. That one is mine to take.

My heart sank at the thought a killer was already so close, and also, because of the impending loss of life.

Thank you, great protector.

To Secora, I said, “White Feather says there are only two attackers left.”

Secora screamed as she pushed with all her strength. “Ahhh…” She set her jaw and pushed again. I caught Steve on his way into the world, protecting his head and tiny body from the dirt, scratchy sagebrush debris, and the windy-cold rain. It must have been a shock for the newly entered being, because he cried out – daring the rain or anything else to stop his entrance.

“Grandfather thank you for the birth of this precious child.”

Secora weakly, added, “Thank you, Source of all beings. Welcome, Steve.”

The siren of a Deputy’s vehicle was shocking. I held my breath as I anticipated the approach of running boots and heard two voices only fifteen feet to our left.

“Are you kidding!”

“How’d they find us?”

They weren’t voices we knew.

From the dark, Kyah bellowed, “Drop your weapons and hit the ground!”

Two bodies thudded into the brush, and Kyah called the deputies to cuff the suspects.

Secora and I were both shivering, but somehow, we had to keep the baby warm. I cuddled Steve inside my coat.

“I love you Gideon Yellow Thunder.”

“I know.” My tears joined the rain.

There was sudden movement right beside us and Secora yelped despite herself. Our fear faded slightly as Kyah’s Rescue dog, Penny, sniffed our faces. She barked twice, signaling my nephew to our position. At that moment, two other sirens could be heard coming in our general direction – way too close.

Secora asked, “What if they don’t stop and run over us?”

How could I respond? It was tough for me to move because the wet clothing clung to my cold skin. I struggled to wave, then brought my arm back to encircle her. Together, the three of us made the best of the circumstance.

I was still mumbling prayers, but I could feel Kyah was nearby. I grabbed his hand. He immediately bent down and hugged me. I love my nephew like a son. Steve seemed curious when the paramedics arrived to help. Within fifteen minutes we were all on the way to Community Hospital in Missoula, grateful, but shivering from the ordeal.

*****

Within the week of his birth, Steve was able to save his mother’s life with a timely howl that diverted her from opening the front door for an unlikely assassin; Mosa’s enraged sister screamed as the bullets entered the wood, “You killed my brother in the Ennedi cave, then made up a story blaming an imaginary beast, a scimitar-toothed cat.

I am here to avenge my brother. I am your death, cave monster.”

*****


All my books are available from Amazon Online
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks


HAPPY HOLIDAY READING!

“Extraordinary Bears” Shard Story From ‘Rock My Soul’ Book 5 of ‘Rising Wind Series.’ Includes a Prior Interview With Modern Explorer, Mateo Arguello…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment


I am excited to share this next story, which includes experiences from a prior interview and meeting with the popular modern explorer Mateo Arguello.

It was evident from the beginning that he is passionate about investigating, researching, and exploring, whether it’s through his expeditions in the mountains or encounters with paranormal phenomena and cryptids.

In particular, I want to focus on a hike he and his friend Austin took on the south side of Pikes Peak, located outside Colorado Springs, Colorado.

So, I thought it would be fun to share their experiences with you…

~Diane Olsen




“My friend, Austin, and I had spent all day hiking and exploring the south side of Pikes Peak. He relied on me to navigate us safely back to the Jeep since it was getting dark. Normally, it was easy for me to remember reference points, even by moonlight.

However, this night was pitch dark and there was no moon. We were over 12,000 feet up the mountain, 500 feet above timberline. As darkness enfolded us the entire landscape became formless. I realized I couldn’t make out anything – even with my headlamp fully illumined.”

It was like looking into the void of space. Nothing reflected in the distance. At that moment; I was unable to tell where I was. For the first time, I understood how people could get lost and die on a cold night like this, high above the trees in what seemed like endless emptiness, a black abyss that absorbed all light.

I was chilled with fear not only for me but for Austin who came with me on these crazy escapades because he trusted my judgment and experience.



In the inky darkness, the valleys were gone, indiscernible. My headlamp only illuminated sixty feet before evaporating. I pushed fear to the side and brought my confidence back to the surface. There was no point in being scared. I needed to guess which valley to hike down. No easy feat.

Unfortunately, from our naked mountaintop vantage, we were looking for one specific dip a few inches or feet deep; the genesis of a swale that would later become a valley rushing downslope into streams that carved out a specific canyon.

Even worse, entirely separate valleys might begin only a few feet from one another, which was very confusing. With as much confidence as I could muster, I let Austin know that we would have to pick one, and hope it would lead us back to the vehicle. He seemed to take it well since I showed no fear or doubt.

It was hard to gauge distances in the dark. For what seemed like two endless black miles we pushed our way past the timberline, into the forest along the valley we thought we had used on the way up. When we ran into the road we traveled with more confidence and improved morale. Our headlamps focused on the flat surface, giving us the illusion that we could see.

The world didn’t seem so vacant – until we ran into a newly installed cattle guard then it became clear that even though we had a path to follow, we had chosen the wrong valley and were hours farther than ever from home. Our morale dropped to nothing. We were cold, hungry, and sleepy. It was edging close to midnight. There was no choice but to keep going.

A few hours passed when a strange sensation overcame me. The way I’d feel when I was in a kill zone in Afghanistan. You knew you were vulnerable; something was watching! This feeling lingered for about a mile until we finally pushed out of the trees near a reservoir. I shook off the dread, perhaps it had been my imagination.



All we could see were these massive outlines and large reflective eyes looking back at us from just outside the reach of our lights. Simultaneously, they started peeking their heads out from behind the giant bush. When we would shine the light to focus on one head, it would quickly hide behind the bush and the other two would jut their heads out like ‘Whack-a-Mole.’ If that wasn’t enough, the one directly behind the tree was peeking above a bush that had to be over eight feet tall.

I couldn’t comprehend how fast and fluid this bear must be to look over the bush, and then duck its head. I’d always seen bears struggling to balance while standing, slowly rising, then falling to get off two feet. This bear was faster and more agile than I was! As soon as the light was directed at it, it shot down – just to shoot up as soon as we shined the light at the new head popping out on the side.

Austin suggested we should take out our firearms for protection. Recognizing he was afraid, I agreed it was probably the best course of action. Yet, I did not get any threatening indication from them, so I wasn’t scared.

As soon as I drew out my 1911 WWII .45, the three giant bears galloped away from us on all fours so fast that they were out of sight within seconds. Unfortunately, that was of no benefit to us, since the “bears” went into the trees on the path we were planning to take, making it impossible for us to keep an eye on them. We stood there, unsure what to do because we felt uneasy moving in that direction.



I commented to Austin how unusual it was to see three adult bears together, and how strange their movements were. The behaviors we saw didn’t make sense. They were not the behaviors of bears. I couldn’t understand how they maneuvered with such agility, and how they instantly knew we had drawn our pistols and fled the scene in haste. I might have understood a fear of rifles but not pistols.

Austin didn’t have much to say since there was much to contemplate. As for me, I was highly suspicious of what we had seen and couldn’t get it out of my head. The way they moved, the interest they showed in us, the way they had been following us from up the timbered slope. If I hadn’t looked to my right, they would have just moved across the flat to that bush, and neither of us would have been the wiser.

We probably waited about twenty minutes before deciding to press forward. Still perplexed and unsure if we were safe, we continued with our lights on and our handguns drawn for about a mile and a half until we ran into a forest service road. We felt safe enough to put the weapons away, but our heads were still on swivels looking for any eye-shine that might indicate these things were still following us.

It took another couple of hours to reach the Jeep and another two hours to get home. By the time this adventure was over it was close to daybreak at 5 A.M . . .

Mateo Argüello


********

If you enjoyed this short story, I invite you to read “the rest of the story” in my novel series, “Rising Wind,” Book 5 “Rock My Soul.” This book is filled with action, adventure, and mystery, celebrating Native American culture while exploring diverse cultures worldwide.

It would make a fantastic holiday gift for the avid readers on your Christmas list and may be purchased from Amazon.  https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks

‘Death of an Icon’ Shard Story From Book 4 of ‘Like Feathers of a Wing’ and The Rising Wind Series…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment



After the fight with brutal cave hyenas that had attacked Secora and Gideon in the remote, rugged mountains of Armenia; the age-old thunderbird, Wakinyan Tanka, rose aloft with a second bird that flashed white chest feathers.
Together, they landed on the ridgetop thirty yards above the humans...
By Diane Olsen Author.

*****************


Ignoring the lightning and thunder crashing around them, Gideon and Secora clambered over the ragged incline to be near the old bird. When they arrived at the divot between two rocky outcrops, they found the ancient one huddled with one wing partially outstretched for balance, the other folded beneath her. Weak and broken, her beak sagged open.

Their guide, Kheridan, tentatively approached and squatted near Secora, but Seamus, who disliked birds, called out from below, “I’m good here.”

The second bird perched on a higher boulder, anxiously raising her magnificent crest of red, black, and white quills; and alternating her weight from foot to foot. Twisting her head in various positions, she observed the humans with those piercing eyes. Besides the blaze of white feathers on her chest, she had white speckles on her wings.

Even though her body, not counting the enormous tail, was over six feet long, Wakinyan looked weak and broken.
Lightening cracked the sky open and rain blew in sheets soaking everything.
Wakinyan Tanka’s head drooped, beak resting on the ground and breathing through her mouth.



Secora gave into her tears but heard a sound behind her. As she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed that despite his fear, Seamus had joined them. A thought came to Gideon, oddly Secora felt it too. He said to the others, “The old one’s day of quiet is here. She wants us to bond with this daughter.”

One last time Wakinyan Tanka raised her glorious crest and turned her red-gold eye seated in blue-tinted skin toward Gideon and Secora. As she lifted her grizzly bear-sized head, they noticed blood oozing from her leg and chest feathers. Without speaking, they removed their coats and spread them over the old bird, hoping to give her the feeling of being a protected nestling. The two other men followed suit, then shivered beside the noble creature, in awe of the event.

It wasn’t long before the downpour moved off to the south and the imminent threat of lightning passed. So too, had Wakinyan Tanka. Gideon, his head pressed on top of his mentor’s crest, was sobbing openly. Seamus captured some of the epic situations on video.

Suddenly, they felt Kheridan hands on their shoulders. “Let’s think about this another time. We are a long way from safety, and I’m sure those giant cave hyenas weren’t the only dangers in this area.”

The young bird that would from now on be referred to as, “White Feather,” spread her wings and rose quietly, circling the currents until she was barely visible, and following the pattern of her mother, two piercing shrieks signaled her departure.

The storm moved on, and the petrichor fragrance of the grateful earth was redolent and calming. . .


If you enjoyed this short story, I invite you to read “the rest of the story” in my novel series, “Rising Wind,” Book Four: “Like Feathers to a Wing.” This book is filled with action, adventure, and mystery, celebrating Native American culture while exploring diverse cultures worldwide. It would make a fantastic holiday gift for the avid readers on your Christmas list and may be purchased from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks



VISIT AUTHOR: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, Amazon,

Happy Holiday Reading!