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Part 3 – Finale –‘The Unique Settled History of Sweet Water Canyon’ Areas of Colorado Springs, CO.

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment




To pick up where I had left off and “The Rest Story”…

There was a boundary pin beyond Basing’s patio and an old fence line that went up a gully to the left. I thought it was the property boundary between Maxwell’s and the Seven Falls property. Later, the Hills, who owned Seven Falls then, demanded quite a bit more land, which I thought they must have weaseled out somehow, but apparently, they showed a legal claim. To this day something bothers me about Lyda Hill’s claim. The clash could be why the steps on that side of the Basing’s house were never completed.

To my knowledge, Lyda Hill had been party to several questionable acts. I went to our big dam one day and watched two teens in white sweatshirts with the cloth arms cut off while stealing buckets full of my dad’s rainbow trout to take down to their tourist site. And likely, they did much worse, hoping to wear people down and urge them to abandon the property.

When Laurette moved, the property was sold to “Uncle” Al Colt whose brothers, Sam and Ed, took their families up there for getaways. Al was the middle brother of the three and he and Mom were friends. Al owned the ‘Honey Bucket’ club in Colorado Springs. Ed Colt Sr. owned Giuseppe’s Restaurant. Sam owned the popular ‘Wee Gee’s’ bar located on Union Blvd. or Pikes Peak Avenue, near Dad’s old office.

When we were younger, Sandy and I used to jump off the garage roof and try to land on the hill behind it so we didn’t have so far to fall – good times. I’m sure we girls were showing off, trying not to be outdone by the younger Colt boys. I remember Shawn Colt standing next to me on the cinderblock patio and discharging a BB rifle at my bare foot. The pellet bounced off a bone, then stung my ear – OW! What a thoughtless jerk. At least that is what I thought at the time, kind of still do, though he probably turned out to be a wonderful man.

Ed Colt Junior became a circuit court judge for El Paso County, then moved up to Teller County as a judge. Peter would check in with Eddie’s mom, Patty Colt, once in a while. Peter also tried to call his school chum several times, but judges were protected from the public. He remembered Eddie making fun of him, saying that the only time he saw Peter was in his court for tickets. Val went to her twentieth-year class reunion, and Eddie had now become a federal judge in Cripple Creek. He came over to say hello and share one of his childhood memories – the one where dad shot a gun over the colt boys’ heads when they came down our road to say hi!



In Dad’s defense he had three teenaged daughters to protect from a bunch of Colt boys, lol. And honestly, some weren’t always our friends. We also attributed the wounding of one of the golden eagles that lived in the area to one of those boys. I saw it fly lamely down our hill – coming across from the Sweetwater Valley with fresh blood on its wing. It was weak and barely landed on the corner of our house to rest. Today that would be the exterior corner of the Spiller’s back porch.

Perhaps we paid it too much attention, and the golden eagle took off across our valley toward trees on the other side of the canyon. I couldn’t see if the injured bird made it all the way across. A pair of golden eagles used to breed in Twilight Canyon. We’d watched their courtship dive, from our front porch in February. I was afraid this was one of them.

In the end, a fire leveled Al Colt’s beautiful resort-like home that Mert had built. Fella said he and Peter sneaked over the next morning when the fire department arrived and watched the embers burn. The firefighters concentrated on keeping the propane tank, which had been near the kitchen, from exploding.

That was the second home to burn on that land. There was a nearby foundation with three chimneys from a previous homestead. The details of its demise are lost in the mists. (photo below)

By Eric Swab Screened Music House – unknown builder


The other buildings, a garage, and a music house in the meadow at that point, it remained intact My siblings, Peter, Fella, and Val camped out in the vacant garage once in a while before Alfred B. Colt sold the property to James H. and Bernice A. Donald in 1966. Dr. Donald enjoyed staying in an RV and wanted his son, David to have the place when he left. David accommodated the garage to make himself an apartment in 1972. But apparently, the Basing’s portion was never platted, and the ownership wasn’t solid.

Map supplied by Eric Swab October 6th, 2020

Lyda Hill inherited Seven Falls, and based on surveys done over the years, The Greenwood Park area was on Seven Falls property. Without documents to the contrary, Donald’s son was unable to verify his ownership, and she was finally able to take the property. She destroyed the bridge, the only external access what a shame.

The property had been bought and sold several times in good faith, however, multiple surveys were conducted. There is a lingering thought in my mind questioning whether Hill was also involved in the destruction of the house that burned down under suspicious circumstances. More recently, Peter Van Buren showed interest in the property.

He had a survey performed on his own but claimed that the ‘Hills’ had enough money to exhaust him, which ultimately led him to lose interest. When Lyda sold her stake, the Broadmoor acquired that land along with Seven Falls. In a land swap, Broadmoor then exchanged Sweetwater with the city, and Colorado Springs received most of Clara Cassatt’s and Bertha Bourne’s former homesteads.

The Upper Valley ruins were supposed to be open to the public, but they posted all kinds of ‘no trespassing’ signs short of Greenwood Park. Since it was supposed to be public, the signs did not dissuade the veteran hikers. The ruins at the upper end of the valley

The cabins and the stable located above what was at one time the reservoir toward the upper end of the canyon now lie in ruins, but it used to be totally cool to visit them. My brother, Fella, knew the place as the “Maxwell Ranch”, though there is no trace of that name in the deed recordings. Go figure. What is with the records? The Maxwell property included land in both canyons, like the ‘Spillers,’ today. Fella and his wife were our last eyes in the area of ‘Greenwood Park.’ They stayed in the one-room cabin up behind the stable.


Cabin photos thanks to Sandra and William Munoz (See other photo below)

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


Our folks were married in 1948 and took their honeymoon on the road, sightseeing in the west, looking for a place to settle. They hauled a small trailer behind the car, which they called “Waltzing Matilda” because it swayed, side to side as they drove. In the forties, the old bottle-topped gas stations and motels were rare sights, and most of the roads traveled were two-lane and unpaved. Mom got good at driving risky passes, and good preparation for driving the ‘Stage Road.’

When Dad and Mert purchased the property, my folks stayed in the ‘Honeymoon Shack’ from 1948 to 1949 while our house was being built. Dad liked the land because he believed it would be safe in the event of a nuclear blast. This was before NORAD and several other military facilities had the same idea.

Eric recently noticed that the pipe from the pumphouse that might have been served by the cement “reservoir” as it was known, doesn’t go toward the house site the Basing’s used, but up toward the bank of the road, near the bridge. He also mentioned a standpipe which is capped off, and a large steel tank. Perhaps the pipes ran underground? Or, possibly they could be covered by undergrowth. I don’t know, but they could have served the Upper Valley structures, or even Fred Smith’s place if it was up by that ringed reservoir.

A little cabin/room was adjoining the stable. When I was young, I thought that it was the honeymoon cabin. We children tried to spiff up that small room for a fun clubhouse, but we didn’t get far – too much mouse pee. I think there was one old chair, and maybe there was a curtain – Sandy remembers pink curtain material in that cabin. I recall a bed spring that might have been stored in part of the stable.

The family horse, “Guera”

I once tried to shovel enough of the dried poop from the old stable, so “Guera, sounded like Weara”, our palomino mare, could climb in there and pretend to be a fancy stable horse. The interesting thing was that the spongy, dried manure that refused to give in to a shovel, may have belonged to cattle since horses couldn’t even fit in there to poop – at least in the later years. I hadn’t heard of anyone running cattle there.

Maybe that was the “ranch” part of Maxwell Ranch? Later, it did surprise me to hear that the stable had collapsed. I would think that the manure would have held it up, nearly forever. While Tina and Fella lived in the good cabin, they built a corral in the meadow down near the music house, until a terrible storm blew in, and the animals fled down the mountain, probably through the Cutler Trail, to the Westside stables, owned by the Brocks on Arch Street in Colorado Springs.

Fella and Tina had to walk, or otherwise make their way over there to get the critters, and then ride them back up. Even in the 1970s, horses were their only transportation. Fella had a motorcycle; he said he had traveled every inch of those canyons.

When it got too cold to stay in the cabin, Fella and Tina bought their first house next to the Brocks house for $13,900. For a long time ‘Fella’ would take his work crew up to the meadow as an appreciation. Everyone would camp over on the weekend, and have a huge BBQ by the music house.

We Mulbergers were blessed to have had some good times and beautiful memories of that heavenly little valley, and we probably saw it at its best. But let’s see what Trey and Megan Spiller do with the upper valley. They have such dreams and the kindest hearts. Trey already rebuilt the little bridge up by the cabins for our visit. The Spillers, Eric, and their friends are the brightest lights those valleys have known for years.


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


I’d like to thank you and hope you have enjoyed
reading about the ‘Settled History of
Sweet Water Canyon’ in Colorado Springs and
sharing some of my family memories!


Visiting The Broadmoor Seven Falls In Colorado Springs, CO
1045 Lower Gold Camp Rd, Colorado Springs, CO 80905





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!

“The Den” A Shard Story From ‘Like Feathers of a Wing’ Book 4 of The ‘Rising Wind’ Novel Series…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment



“THE DEN”

Tarkio hollered from outside. “I think I see something out there – in the meadow.”

Secora and Gideon hustled over. The boy, one of Secora’s grad students, was shading his eyes with his hand. Following his gaze, they noticed a sow bear with cubs was gnawing on a cow carcass.

Tarkio asked, “Maybe that’s what has been bothering Bill’s family’s livestock?” Secora was hesitant. “Could be, I suppose. But we have to remember Bill is one of my paleontology students. Hopefully, he would know if they were seeing a bear with cubs.” 

Suddenly, a large dark blur raced from the woods into the field and swatted the sow’s head, flipping her entire body and efficiently breaking her neck. She lay still where she fell. Gideon drew up the rifle and prepared to shoot.

Secora grabbed his arm, distracting him. “What if there are two of those things? We need to get away from here right now. My path has crossed with dangerous beasts before. The outcome of such interactions is murky. Not everyone who meets these creatures makes it out alive.
Survival – that’s a bonus.”


Secora woke early the next morning at the farm where her student Bill and his family had been harassed by a deadly beast. She heard her grad student and office mate, Tarkio, creep over awake, and excited. She rose and they exited the house to sit on the patio quietly listening to a late cricket and a few frogs while Secora combed her hair.

“In a parental sense, I’m very much against you staying here without us while we look for that carcass over at Sam’s place today. “Secora, I am old enough to make my own decisions, and besides, I will be with two well-armed game wardens.”

Gideon joined his wife and Tarkio, rubbing both eyes with his knuckles. “Secora, you should give him your sat phone. Tarkio, my number is programmed into it. Call me if there’s the slightest problem.” He sat on the step and stretched. “We’ll be looking for the carcass of the beast that was shot on the neighbor’s property.” He yawned and blinked, waiting for Tarkio to nod.

Soon they noticed Bill’s mother, Elena, at the door, inviting them in for scrambled eggs and sausage, home fries, and biscuits. They followed her in as the delightful aromas lured them to the dining room. They dug into a wonderful breakfast that, for a moment, allayed Secora’s concerns that this was likely to be an ominous day.

When the dishes were dried and put away, Secora wandered through the dining and living rooms, fascinated by lovely photos that had been blown up and hung as wall art. There was a series of deciduous tree panels showing close-ups of leaves in the full range of fall colors, which any child would wish to capture in her hand as she walked down an autumn street. The collage of purple, maroon, several shades of reds and orange, green, gold, and yellow hues made her smile.

Next, she noticed some evening horizon shots of black rocks against a layered blue-purple sky, featuring stars and a meteor. In the hall, on the way to the restroom, she stopped at a black and white photo that captured a team of Belgian horses plowing a field, and inside the bathroom, she found a dramatic photo of white bear grass plumes shooting up from a super-steep green slope, surrounded by clouded mountains that took her breath away. She asked Bill, “Are these your handiwork?” “Yes,” he answered shyly.

They heard a knock at the door, and Elena ushered the game wardens inside. Introductions were brief, as the wardens shook hands with the family. Gideon and Secora hugged Tarkio, who by then felt like he was part of their family. The senior warden, James, smirked, and said, “Don’t worry ma’am, we handle wolves and bears for breakfast.” “I’m not worried about them. I’m afraid this is something far more dangerous.”
“Like Bigfoot.” They both laughed. “More like a tiger.
It may hunt you. Just be careful.”

Both James and Frank, the other warden, chuckled again. Perhaps there was a slight edge to the laughter this time. Tarkio said goodbye and followed them out the door, promising he’d give them a blow-by-blow account of the excursion. Secora sighed from her heart but smiled weakly. It was time to let the crew move out. When they left, Secora hollered after Bill, “You have bear spray on you, right?” “Yes, mom. Two cans.”

Gideon added, “Okay, use the Satfon to keep in touch, Tarkio. Secora and I will be only a few miles away.” A few yards down the lane, Gideon turned their vehicle around and then stopped. “Was there something, just there… at the edge of the woods?” Secora rolled her eyes. “Oh, I imagine there was.” He sighed. “I hate to leave. Didn’t you say that thing probably wouldn’t be back? I don’t feel so sure about it now.”


While the Fish and Game vehicle was heading across the meadow toward the forest fence line Secora said, “I understand. But being with them probably won’t change the outcome. This way, we can be available to help if we’re needed.” As they left, they noticed that Bill and his family were already in their pickup, crawling down the two-track road toward town.

* * * * *

When Tarkio and the wardens climbed over the old wooden fence everything seemed normal enough. Birds were singing and Tarkio noticed a purple butterfly flapping erratically past their faces. The wardens walked ahead at a good pace, occasionally bending over to look at imprints in the pine needles. Frank commented, “Looks like a grizzly paw print.” If it weren’t for the remnants of the cow carcass that had been dragged out of the meadow and over or through the rail fence, they would have found very little else.

At one point, Tarkio collected a sample of two-inch dark fur caught in tree bark. He wondered about where this thing had been taking the carcass. Did it have a den? Could it be a female with cubs? What kind of den would such a creature have? Den choices in the open pine forest were, of course, limited. He thought about coyotes, then bears. They go underground, but that doesn’t mean this girl would. Pumas and other big cats might den up in the rocks.

The men he was with had almost twenty years on him. They were puffing and took a break in a thick patch of conifers. The surrounding air turned chilly. Tarkio thought it strange that he could see his breath as he sat on a rock. He pushed his hands into his pockets and pressed his elbows toward his ribs to conserve heat. That wasn’t enough, so he pulled his coat tightly around him.

The part of the forest they were passing through had become so thick and dark, that the penetration of sunlight was limited.  Finally, he said, “Guys, I’m feeling eerie, and cold all of a sudden.” James agreed, “Yeah, me too. Frank, maybe we should call it a day.” Frank smiled. “I have a 30.06 that says you guys are making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Tarkio continued, “Listen, this beast could easily be a female with cubs. Why else would she be dragging that cow around?” “We don’t want to be around a hungry sow with cubs, do we Frank?” “Okay, James. What say we take the rest of the day to explore closer to the ranch area?” James slowly rose up, unholstering his pistol. Relieved, he whispered, “Yeah that sounds sensible.”

At that moment Tarkio felt an utter dread. Had he seen eyes flashing between twigs? James whispered in a harsh whisper, “Frank, get up and walk behind us with your rifle ready. We are going to need eyes in the backs of our heads.” “What are you talking about?” James whispered, “We’re being hunted.”

“Why are you whispering – talking is better with bears.” They moved out towards what they felt would be the direction of the vehicle and the ranch. An unfamiliar snarl snagged their immediate attention. Tarkio popped the cap on the bear spray. Then he remembered the GPS on Secora’s Satfon.

As a precaution he dialed Gideon. “We’re in a pickle here and heading back toward the vehicle at the ranch.” “Keep sharp.” “I have the bear mace.”“Maybe you should spray a little of it around you and on your pant legs and boots. Hold your breath.” “Good idea. If it doesn’t like the smell, maybe it will back off long enough for us to make it.” “Hope so.”

Tarkio could hear Gideon tell Secora to grab her coat and head for the car. He heard her answer that she was dialing 911 on her cell. The young man sprayed the pant legs and boots of his companions. When he finished and could speak, he said, “Okay, I think we are safe to breathe.” Frank’s bravado had fled and he was noticeably shaken as they went forward. “I’ve listened to YouTube Bigfoot stories for years. This feeling of being watched, and everything going too quiet could apply to this thing as well.

Even the air is still – breathless.”

Another snarl came from their right. It was all Tarkio could do, to keep from running full out like a crazy man. Frank asked, “Don’t they have stories of wolf men or some other large wolf creature that can stand on its hind legs and be seven to twelve feet tall?” James said, “You don’t think this thing can be that big.” “I don’t want to, but the lady was right.

How many animals can drag off a cow carcass rather than eat it where it falls?” “Frank, get a grip. This is the last time we’ll take a civilian into the field.” “Okay James, maybe so. But would you still be out here if you were alone?”
James’s breathing became a little ragged as he began to jog. “Hell no!”
Tarkio was nervous. “Now, there’s something off to our left, too!”
“Whoa, what is that stink?” “James, I think I shit my pants.”
“Me too.”



The snarl changed to a guttural growl down to their right. Then a deep roar with a subsonic tone erupted from the hillside to their left. Tarkio’s head whiplashed from one side to the other. Gideon said to Tarkio, “I’ve noted your location. You are only two and a half miles in a direct line from the ranch. We’ll be there soon.” “That’s good.” He relayed the information to the others. Then suddenly Tarkio was hit from behind. As he fell, he heard both the pistol and the rifle fire.

****

Tarkio felt groggy. His sleep had been disturbed. Now he felt like he was being dragged off his bed, and there were the muffled noises. No, they must be voices around him. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was afraid to open them. Instead, he called, “Frank?” Then after a pause, “James?” There might have been a groan.

Tarkio was still lying on his back, and couldn’t open his eyes. Without warning he was picked up and carried off – not by puncturing jaws he was relieved to discover, but like a potato sack. The air reeked. He was uncomfortable bouncing along. Darkness overtook his agitation.

****

“Hurry, they’re under attack,” Gideon yelled as he joined Secora in the vehicle. Secora hit the gas. Sam’s ranch was ten minutes from the meadow. “I hope the sheriff is closer and arrives before we get there.” As if by magic they heard a siren crescendo. Secora saw the lights and pulled over for the cruiser to pass. Gideon told her that he’d heard a roar on the phone and a scream for “Help.”

Then three shots were fired before the Satfon went quiet.

Moments later, the university van pulled up to the forest fence but Secora and Gideon couldn’t see any people – just the vehicles, the cruiser with its lights still on and doors left wide open. Secora sniffed the air. “I smell a faint pungent odor.”
“Me too.” Gideon passed through the gate, his rifle at the ready. There were no other sounds. “Everything is too quiet.” They followed the path of bent grasses when they could. Occasionally, there was a partial heel indent.

Gideon stopped to look at the sat phone’s GPS. “We seem to be heading in the right direction. We’re about a mile out from where the phone landed, and I last heard Tarkio with the game wardens.” There was no mistaking the warning they heard off to their left. “Almost sounds like a bear,” noted Secora, as she whirled to face that direction. Gideon stopped with her. Then they crept toward the noise, all their senses alert.

“Honey, I’m seeing drops of wet blood on the grass. I’m going to collect a sample for DNA testing.” She took off her backpack and put on a pair of gloves to swab a sample, while Gideon hollered, “Tarkio. Tarkio, where are you.” There was no response for a second, and then they heard a call from the direction of the game wardens’ path. Gideon jogged toward the noise while Secora noted where and when she had collected the sample and followed after him.

Suddenly, someone was shouting from behind her. She turned again and squinted back toward the fence. It was Bill, running full out toward her and yelling, “I heard the sirens and knew there was trouble. I took the pickup and came back as quickly as I could.” Puffing anxiously, he demanded, “What… what happened?” He puffed again. “Is anyone hurt?” “Gideon is up ahead. Let’s catch up and see. Be aware, Bill, I think there’s a large animal off to our left. It growled a warning for us to stay away.”

“G-r-e-a-t, no problem. I don’t have a weapon.” “Me neither.” Secora smelled the dry pine needles as they crunched their way through the brush. It was about three minutes before they could see Gideon through the shrubs. He was standing near a clump of trees with the deputies. Secora couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she took a careful 360-degree look around before approaching them. Bill looked terrified. “What’s that horrible smell?”

Secora shook her head but said nothing. The deputies looked them over and asked them to identify themselves. They showed their IDs and Gideon vouched for both of them while handing Secora her Satfon. Secora bent down to examine the evidence. Bill pinched his nose and said, “That’s a crazy amount of excrement.”

One deputy asked, “How many men did you say were here?” Gideon replied, “Three. Two game wardens and a paleontologist from the university.” “And at least one Bigfoot.” Secora looked up when no one made a comment. “I think the excrement was a weapon to deter the animal which originally attacked the men.” “Okay, ma’am, do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?” “I do. You got something better?” Bill said, “That would explain some of this… but where are the guys?”



“We’ve called dispatch for a search team and dogs. Until then, they are officially missing. There have already been several disappearances in this county and across into Canada this spring.” The other deputy said, “That’s none of their business.” Secora took a step toward him. “Well, it kinda is. The university expects Tarkio to teach classes on Monday, and I’ll need to call his wife and son. Surely the game wardens also have families.”

Bill advised, “I think Secora and Gideon should go on ahead while we wait for the search team.” Gideon sensed a hesitation with the deputies, so he pushed a bit further. “It would be like having a tracker go in before the search teams.” “We can’t let you do that. You could ruin the trace evidence.” Three knocks rang out as if someone was sending a signal by whacking a tree with a chunk of wood.

Secora said, “One or more of them might be alive. In that direction. We could check it out without messing up the evidence. You can direct the search from here.” Bill said, “By the way, your dogs might want to check out the blood drops on the grass about a mile back and to the south.” A deputy said, “That’s probably from the cow carcass.” Secora asked, “Do dead cows snarl? I heard a warning growl off to my left at that position, and the blood was wet.”

The deputies made faces registering disgust and possibly a little fear. One said to Gideon, “Hey, use your Satfon and keep us updated.” Then the two of them headed back toward the farm. Secora asked Bill to photograph the attack site, while she and Gideon took samples of excrement and blood, marking their positions at the scene. She pointed out deep claw marks on a nearby tree to Bill, who photographed them, while Secora took a swab from the fresh scratches.       


They headed uphill toward the west-northwest, toward the knocks. The trail was fairly easy to follow as there were occasional deep impressions of a large human foot, along with bent-down grass and other signs. It became clear there was more than one creature passing through. Gideon sniffed the lingering pungent odors in the air. Secora wasn’t the only one who noticed. They stopped to listen. Things were perfectly silent until Bill snapped a photo of a rare Indian Pipe orchid. She smiled and said, “Send me a copy of that, will you?”

Another set of three knocks came from several miles away. However, they continued to follow the tracks and the scent. When they arrived at the base of a hill to the north, Secora thought she could smell blood. “Wait. Just a moment.” She closed her eyes and tried to use telepathy to let everyone know these three humans meant no harm. Please let us help our friends and any who live. There was a single knock above their position.

They arrived at the biggest tree in the area and found two bodies surrounded by a circle of urine and feces. Gideon explained,” To ward off dangerous intruders,” He bent down and checked for signs of life. One warden and Tarkio were alive but unconscious. “No sign of the third man. I should call the deputies to bring medics.

Secora, why don’t you two leave offerings and a prayer up a hundred yards or so.” She took a PB&J and a baggie of dried apricots out of her backpack and gave them to Bill. Gideon handed over a sandwich and raisins from his lunch, and they left. The Lakota dialed the number they had been given, then spoke with the deputies, He heard Secora and Tarkio climbing over rocks and fallen trees above, with their gifts and their gratitude.

It took the rescue crew a half-hour to arrive. By then the warden, James, had regained consciousness on site. He had nothing to say about what happened. Gideon and Secora found out later that Tarkio roused on the way to the hospital. The search dog found the third man partially devoured.
Frank lay with his head knocked away from his body in the area where Secora had heard the growl.

Nothing further was noted about the attack or any of the unseen creatures in the official record. . .

*******

If you enjoyed reading this short story from my novel “Like Feathers of a Wing”
in the ‘Rising Wind’ series, all my novels are available now from
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Like Feathers of a Wing: Fourth Book in the Rising Wind Series: Deep Informative and Pertinent
by Diane Olsen (Author)