Tag: writing

A Shard Story From ‘Rays of One Light’ – Part 3 The Finale -Not Yet Published of ‘Rising Wind Series’ From Book 7. . .

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

Pine Ridge

Secora’s face creased with concern almost instantly. She ended the call with, “Be careful, Gideon, I love you.” She shared the disturbing news that Jimmy was in a hospital after being stabbed by gang members up at the Porcupine Desert development. At first, Destiny was in shock. “What in Sam Hill was he doing out there?”

Secora whispered, “I think he was offering a funeral for a veteran buddy, but when he left, he tried to stop some gang members from beating a woman to death across the street. He was stabbed in the attempt. Gideon is nearing Pine Ridge now.” Destiny came undone. “What do you mean? Who’s watching our children?”

After she got a grip, Secora said, “We need to get to Pine Ridge A.S.A.P.!” Her eyes fixed on their two enigmatic guests, “So sorry to leave you both, after having barely met.” Destiny suggested, “You could ride double with us back to the ranch, where we will return the horses.” The weaver said, “Marcus Aurelius told us, ‘We live only now. Everything else is either passed or unknown.” He noted the quizzical looks on Secora and Destiny’s faces and said, “Do not worry. We must take different paths.” Secora put on her backpack and gathered the reins.

Before she climbed aboard, she said, “I hope you find your cousin before trouble does.” Princess looked to the earth, then back to Secora. “We will see each other again – soon. ”The anxious women reached out to exchange handshakes with the weaver, and big hugs with the tall, careworn princess. The sacred reverie broken, the women mounted and quickly departed. 

Secora felt desperate worry for Jimmy growing inside as she and Destiny urged the ponies into a lope whenever the terrain allowed. Their hooves raised puffs of dust until, at last, they entered the corral. After hastily unsaddling and brushing the animals, they thanked Pepita and paid her a generous tip. They told her about their mishap with the chollas and meeting the mysterious people, before heading to their vehicle.

The woman smiled and nodded knowingly, then watched them maneuver their vehicle through the rutted road toward the highway. 

********

Secora was deep into the Long Healing Prayer when evening visiting hours brought Gideon and his police friend, Clive, back to Jimmy’s side. He looked both better and worse. Destiny was mopping sweat from his forehead.
“He isn’t eating or drinking. He’s on an IV.” Jimmy half-smiled at the guys and said, “Guess the infection came back?”
”Destiny countered, “I doubt it ever left. They added another antibiotic and hope he will be much better tomorrow.” “So sorry, Jimmy,” Gideon said, touching his arm.

Suddenly, two heads peeked around the doorway. The short man grinned and said, “Hiya cuz,” startling everyone. He and a tall woman entered the room. “Hopituh Shi-nu-mu, you remember me?” Jimmy faintly laughed. “How could I ever forget you, weaver buddy?” He tried to lift an arm in greeting, explaining, “We used to hang out around Supai Village in the Grand Canyon.” “How on earth did you two get here – and so quickly?” Secora was astonished.

Policeman Clive Bullbear, Jimmy and Gideon’s close friend, interceded. “These guys? They’re okay. They showed up at Buzzards Roost today, when Gideon was talking to the juvenile detainees from the gang that stabbed Jimmy, about their life choices. We gave these guys a ride.” Destiny stood and mumbled, “No, no, no.” She almost shouted, “Unfreaking believable. That can’t be! They were just with us, wandering in Baja Mexico, when we got the news that Jimmy was stabbed, and we immediately flew up here.”

Princess said in a calming voice, “People move from place to place.” Weaver smiled and walked straight up to Jimmy’s bedside. “Hey, cuz, this is my friend, the princess.” Jimmy smiled weakly, sweat dripping, eyes almost closed, “I brought the medicine you need.” He lifted the blanket away. “Let me see that wound.” It was then that the princess spoke to Destiny. “When you left, I told you we would meet again soon.” Secora shook her head. “But…”

The princess cut her question off. You knew the weaver was looking for his cousin, because something bad was about to happen, right?” Destiny wagged her head in confusion. “But we even invited you to ride back to the ranch with us.” “Like I said, we took a different path. It was important to find Buzzard’s Roost first. Secora sat back and stared as she drew a deep breath.

Destiny asked, “What is Buzzard’s Roost?” The question went unanswered, and women had to deal with their puzzlement silently, because the subtle, but enigmatic chanting they’d heard and felt at the bottom of the rocky canyon was beginning to emanate from deep within the weaver and the princess. It had the effect of lulling all others in the room into a pleasant – and necessary sleep.

Painted Murals

In early September, Secora and Destiny returned to Baja, but this time with Gideon and Jimmy. Their children stayed with their grandparents, and Uncle Kyah and his fiancée, Ti’i. This time, their guide, Alfonso, was feeling better and personally took them into the Sierra de San Francisco, a World Heritage site known for its “Great Murals,” which were created by Paleoindians.

(Photo Courtesy ~ scene depicting a Paleoindian family dressing caribou hides at their camp nps/gov parks)


They were famous for larger-than-life depictions of humans and animals who once inhabited the central part of the Baja California peninsula from El Rosario in the north to San Javier in the south. Many paleo sites were small, but Alfonso knew where he was taking his guests, and his wife, Pepita, brought their two children. It would only be a two-hour journey.  Pepita said, “most of the illustrations were larger than life size, some as much as fifteen meters above the shelter floor.” She thought they might have been painted by giants.

“Many of the reddish outlines of some of the human figures, called ‘monos’, are with red and black paint. They were drawn facing the artists, but the animals were often painted from the side.” Destiny said, “I remember reading that a Jesuit Padre at San Ignacio thought the male monos had loose shirts with a greatcoat and breeches but no shoes.” Pepita responded, “Yeah, well… can’t say I see all that.

But, it does seem like there is often a robe or blanket of sorts.” Unusual because the people wore almost no clothing due to the heat. Secora recalled, “The Navajos I remember from my youth wore wool blankets to protect their skin from the sun. They also used the blankets to protect themselves from wildfires. They would run to the middle of a pond or river. Soak the blankets and huddle inside the wet cocoon to keep away the smoke and flames.”

The banter stopped as they came to a particularly treacherous trail made of broken rock. When they had all passed that danger, the riders stopped to eat a picnic lunch of pupusas and burritos, which were warmed over a small fire, and washed down with coffee and water. 

After lunch, Secora noticed that even the horses were snoozing with droopy eyelids, swishing their tails at flies, and lazing in the thin shade of a large boojum. Alfonso whispered to Secora that she should get her camera. She snapped a couple of shots of the children who were constructing a miniature fort in the sand with driftwood and dried mesquite.

Gideon had lifted Graham crackers and marshmallows from his backpack, while Destiny liberated a few chocolate bars from a waterproof container in the small cooler. Jimmy winked and found a few driftwood branch stubs that he whittled to an appropriate thickness, then gave them to Pepita to skewer the marshmallows, roasting them. A few of the perfectly seared treats fell among the fire coals. As everyone finished eating the gooey S’mores, the children’s hands and faces were wiped clean. It was time to climb back on the horses to finish the journey.

They passed the rocky area the women had found before and were maneuvering through the rising cliffs that pushed upward from the surrounding flat valley bottom. As they picked their way through the rocks and twists deep within the rugged formation, they descended only a few hundred yards into a very narrow side canyon where the trail turned a corner and dropped so steeply that it was difficult to proceed with or without the horses.  

The path became more unstable, and the side walls were closed in. No horse could fit between the boulders, so the riders dismounted, leaving the animals to rest in the splotchy shade provided by the surrounding boulders, and a single tormented juniper with ancient arms of split, gray wood spread towards the sun. As the adults gingerly moved forward, they kept their hands and watchful eyes on the children, who were protectively kept between them.

Secora was surprised to find herself looking almost straight down into a small box canyon to the left, about a hundred feet below them. It must have had a water source because there was more vegetation there than in the big valley. They paid strict attention now. There was barely room for them to stand on the irregular stony path. Secora was beginning to wonder why they were even there.

Alfonso pointed to the right, then climbed over a large flat boulder and onto a broad ledge, under a narrow rock alcove. Pepita carefully handed him the children, one by one. When it was Secora’s turn to make that leap of faith, she held her breath with awe and respect. From their vantage, they heard a voice, “Helloooo,” from below their position. At first, no one was able to discern where the hailing voice originated. Then, slowly, Secora’s eyes picked up two figures resting about a hundred feet beneath her, on another sandstone ledge. Alonso answered, “Buenos dias, amigos. Hey, cuz.”

They were soon joined by the weaver and the princess, which surprised no one by this point. As the adults moved along the shelf looking upward, the children seized the opportunity to scurry towards the back wall of the overhang, where they huddled and pretended that they were building their new home with a few pieces from an abandoned stack of old driftwood.

After an exchange of warm greetings, the adults returned their gazes to the painted overhang above the cavern. Photos recorded the moment as they caught their breaths and admired the stunning red and black figures thirty feet above their heads. In the yawning maw of the cliff overhang, there was a vast array of red, black, and white painted murals of animals and humans from long ago.

It was a pristine display of mountain sheep, several large birds, and an array of monos, human figures with arms mostly upraised as if in greeting or prayer. Some had bent legs as if they were dancing. There were lines of white dots, perhaps referencing raindrops. Secora moved closer. Destiny exclaimed, “Oh-ho, would you look at that! I was beginning to think we would never see something this awesome!” Amazed, Jimmy Lizardeye said, “This was definitely a place for painting ladders to be used.” “Or, for the long arms of giants,” snickered Pepita.

Inside the cave painting museum in San Ignacio,...

(Sample of Great Mural Rock Art ~   San Ignacio Museum.)


Jimmy noted, “Look, deer of all ages, and large flying birds. Just amazing!” Secora stood back to observe and record the panel of figures in its entirety. The princess pointed. “There’s an owl, and some smaller lizards. Oh, and two mountain sheep.” Gideon pointed to the left portion. “Look in the corner, you can see snakes, goats, dogs, and pronghorns. Do you think some of these were done at a different time?” Destiny mumbled, “Probably… oh wait. I’ll be darned; I think I see images of a string of piglet-like creatures.

Hey, look, Secora! They have whitish dots and stripes across their bodies, and see their extended noses – they’re tapirs!” Secora joined her. “Wow, I remember that Diegoaelurus may have fed on smaller Eocene tapirs and rhinos that lived here when it was lush and tropical.”


Pepita said, “What the heck is a Diego… Lars?

Secora laughed. Her heart was full of joy as she filmed everything, and took stills from every angle, some of which included the visitors, capturing their joy as Destiny, who was actually crying silently. Secora smiled at her boss. “Our dreams came true.” Destiny sniffed and said she couldn’t wait to share this experience with her new class. Suddenly, the children pointed into a corner, shouting, “Mira, Mira, Look, un gato! Over there is an ugly cat!”

Secora and the others squatted near the children’s wood stack and saw an animal about the size of a thirty-pound house cat curled up in an inset crevice. The strange saber-toothed face blinked at them from a distance. A croak of wonder escaped Destiny’s lips as she recognized something similar to the sketch of a Diegoaelurus she had seen on Secora’s desk. The weaver laughed and said, “He’s probably wondering if we are good to eat.”

Secora wagged her head. “This can’t be right. They shouldn’t be around; they should have died out around 13,000 years ago.” Gideon snarked, “Are you really that surprised, considering your track record? You’re always finding one cryptid or another. Remember the giant sloth?” “Or, the Thunderbird,” Jimmy proposed.

Secora wagged her head. “This one is on Destiny. She came out here specifically for this possibility, and darn it, here it is.” Destiny was still in shock. “Did we just find another ‘extinct’ creature living past its expiration date?” “I guess weird things happen if you hang out with Secora too long,” laughed Jimmy.

“Hallelujah, I’ve arrived!” Destiny seemed to be in ecstasy.    
Alonso said as he gathered the children. “He may not be dangerous to adults, but they are carnivores.
Let’s get these kids home, friends.”

**********


I hope you have enjoyed reading this three-part short story and preview of the seventh book, which has not yet been published, in my “Rising Wind” series of novels! If you’re a reader or a movie enthusiast who loves the “Indiana Jones” saga and enjoys mystery, action, and adventure, you’ll find all seven books in the thrilling and gripping “Rising Wind” series to be captivating.

Books are available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats.
Read it free with Kindle Unlimited, & Soon they will be
Available as audiobooks, too!
https://www.amazon.com/Rising-Wind-3-book-series/dp/B093PRX88L/

A Special Shard Story From ‘Rays of One Light’ – Not Yet Published of ‘Rising Wind Series’ from Book 7…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

The Weaver and the Princess.
From ‘Rays of One Light‘
Part Two of Three



While the horses picked their way through the rocks that crowded the gulch, Destiny spun a tale with a non-floral thread. “You know, it’s interesting that most of the wandering Archaic bands didn’t appear to have any farming attachments before they ran into the Spaniards. For instance, the Cochimi claimed to have lived here for more than 10,000 years as hunters and gatherers.

They added horticulture after meeting Spanish explorers in 1342 when their ships came through San Diego Harbor. Unfortunately, the Cochimi language has not been spoken since the 1800s when the last of their people died out, perhaps from disease. Their kindred, the Kumeyaay, or Diegueno of San Diego County, are the only Yuman speakers of Hokan stock whose tribes still exist. Of course, they are more focused on horticulture and farming than their archaic ancestors.”  

Secora steered the bay mare around a boulder maze as she continued to listen. “It was during Spanish colonization that people like the Kumeyaay and the Hopi, called “Moki” in Mexico by the way, began raising sheep. They also grew maize, beans, squash, and melons, as well as various other vegetables and fruits.

They still hunted and even fished the rivers, or man-made canals like those produced by Hohokam speakers around the South Mountain near Phoenix. When they adapted to a sedentary life, the Hopi men tended the animals in addition to building houses. They also made the moccasins, wove garments and blankets from the wool, and performed most of the ceremonies.”

A Kumeyaay house photographed by Edward Curtis, ca. 1926.


Secora rolled her eyes and snickered. “Probably kept them out of trouble. Sounds good for the women.”
“You’d think that, but women made all the baskets and pottery, tended the gardens, raised the children, and cared for the elderly. Most importantly, they were responsible for the arduous task of acquiring safe water for their families. Outside of all of that, they ground the day’s corn into a meal. You’ve seen those old manos and metates, right?

The stones broke the corn or other seeds into a sticky flour that could then be pinched into balls and cooked like bread?”

Secora nodded. “I have a mano and metate of my own.” She cleared her throat. “So, in a way, the Spanish took the lives of some of the people through subordination and plagues but then brought them the threads of a more stable existence. Gave them a livelihood.”

Destiny’s gelding sidled up. “Funny how things work.” She pointed upward. “Now I think I’m seeing someone.”

“Where?”

 “There may be someone by the handholds close to that ruin.”

“Really? I’ll make a note of that for the class I hope to put together.”

“You’ve really gotten deep into this Baja thing, my friend.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about adding a class on the subject next year. What do you think, Secora?”

“Sounds interesting. But weren’t you talking about cutting two classes from our curriculum because of budget shortfalls?” Secora shaded her eyes.

Destiny looked stricken and sighed. “Now, that’s a problem. I am hoping to keep all of your courses, but maybe we could offer the Pleistocene Herbivores, and the Predators classes every other year, rather than annually. Could you manage that?” Considering her boss’s suggestion, Secora acquiesced.  “I’ll see if that impacts any students, but I think we can do that.” She watched Destiny’s shoulders relax significantly. “Now, let’s explore those poles at the ruins.”

They made their approach from the end of the mesa, where eroded sand and rock splayed out like a skirt. Hidden gullies and ridges between its folds increased both the distance and travel time. They followed a deer trail to the base of the cliff and left the horses tied to a shriveled juniper tree.

The scorching heat was mitigated by a breeze across the ledge inside the overhang. They scanned a stacked stone wall, part of a building that had been cleverly erected in a narrow cleft. Then they approached the poles which were still partly lashed together, resting on the rubble of a crumbled wall. Secora thought they might have been used as roofing beams, or as a door for the ancient structure. Destiny suggested that they might have been a painting ladder.

Secora shouted, “What? Can’t hear you over this wind.”

“Maybe it’s a ladder for painting?” yelled her friend.

A moment later Secora acknowledged, “I suppose, but I don’t see any figures.”

Destiny shouted, “How about any sign of those ghosts?”

Secora shook her head then hollered, “Nope, I’d hoped we would find footsteps or some other clue that might tell us if they’re human.” A feisty wind gust blew dust from the ledge into their eyes. They twisted away from the stinging grit and returned to the horses, who were tossing their heads and swishing their tails in rebellion, hoping to be free of the storm.

Disappointed, the women departed for the canyon bottom, where they noticed there wasn’t even a puff of breeze. Secora said, “That’s weird,” as she dismounted to sit on a rock. As soon as she stopped speaking, she heard the very faint sounds of mystic chanting.

Destiny said, “Are you hearing this, or is it just me?”
“No, I hear it.” Spellbound, they closed their eyes, concentrating on the rhythm and tones of the song, afraid it might fade, or end, at any moment. When it did stop, they opened their eyes and found two individuals standing before them in the backdrop of bright sunlight, their faces barely distinguishable.

Destiny shaded her eyes and asked, “Are they ghosts or humans?”

Secora reached out and poked a bare arm. “I don’t think they’re ghosts.” To the visitors. she said, “I certainly hope you come in friendship since we can’t read the intentions in your eyes. Maybe you could step into the shade.”

When the people remained as they were, Destiny offered, “Our names are Destiny and Secora. Who are you?” Secora wondered if they understood English, and was about to repeat Destiny’s words in Spanish when a man responded.

“People call me “weaver”. I grew up on various reservations around here and in the Grand Canyon.”

The woman responded, “I am the princess. I’m lost – not from around here. I left South Sudan, but I am at home with this man. She looked at the weaver.”

“Turns out that we’re not from here either,” Secora chuckled. She and Destiny were in awe as a tale unfolded. The princess was a refugee from a land of abuse and threats, where her only son had been murdered when he tried to attend a white college. She looked as if she was in her mid-fifties and stood at least six feet tall, an imposing presence with her back to the sun.

Destiny tried again. “Would it be possible for the two of you to move out of the sun so we could see you better?”

As they stepped to the side, Secora’s eyes followed them, noticing that the man’s waist-length black hair shimmered in the sun. He stated, “I am looking for my cousin. I haven’t seen him since we were children, but I feel like he may be in danger, and I want to help him.” He patted a pouch on his belt. “I brought the medicine.” He then took a seat on a boulder beside the princess, who towered over him then closed his eyes. “When we were children, he was known by the Hopi phrase, ‘Hopituh Shi-nu-mu’, the peaceful boy.”

Destiny reflected, “Sounds like your cousin is a wonderful person.”

Weaver nodded, then said, “We Puebloans are all wonderful people, descendants of the ‘Ancient Ones’, you know.  For a time, they lived within the cliffs and prospered by farming along the rivers. Before and after that time, we built pit houses and pueblos from logs, mud, and grass. Our history goes back many thousands of years. Our relatives lived in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East where they built multi-storied adobe apartment complexes, with beautiful roofs that provided safety, not to mention – wonderful views.”

Destiny’s face was creased in smiles. “I always believed that the Hopi’s had one of the oldest living cultures in the Americas.” Weaver again nodded. “True. But more importantly, we have been traveling these lands today, following paths that might lead us to someone who knows my cousin.”

“Interesting strategy,” Secora said under her breath. He continued, “As Marcus Aurelius tells us, ‘Entrust everything willingly to the gods, and then make your way through life—no one’s master and no one’s slave.’” 

The two women looked out of the sides of their eyes at each other, respectfully wondering if he had finished. Then Secora asked if she and Destiny could offer prayers for his cousin’s well-being?”

Princess said, “You may pray now. He particularly needs your prayers.”

Secora uttered a prayer for tests and difficulties. “Is there any Remover of difficulties save God? Say: Praised be God! He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His bidding!”

“The princess said, “I know that prayer. Baha’i, right?”

Weaver added, “Ancient Hopituh Shi-nu-mu tradition teaches us to live according to the laws of the Creator, Maasaw, who sent to us morality and ethics. We must respect all living things, and know that all beings want to know they will be okay.”

Secora responded, “Claro que si. Of course, they do.”

Destiny looked puzzled. “I didn’t know about Maasaw. I was told the Hopi believed that the gods came up from the ground, where Ant People inhabited the heart of the Earth.”

Princess then prayed, “Say God sufficeth all things above all things, and nothing in the heavens or in the earth, but God sufficeth. Verily, He is in Himself, the Knower, the Sustainer, the Omnipotent. This is a prayer from the Bab, whose name means ‘Door’ or ‘Gate’.”

When their prayers were completed, they shared water from a bottle Secora grabbed out of her russet leather backpack. She poured while Destiny held out Dixie cups. Secora and Destiny explained they were in the area to search for remnants of ancient animals and plants and also to look for the bold red and black mural art above some rock shelters and ledges. It wasn’t long before they were all conversing as old friends. Secora split peanut butter and wild plum jelly sandwiches, offering portions to everyone.

A few passing clouds temporarily blocked the sun as they continued the visit. Without the glare, Secora took note of some wicked scars on the lady’s face. Her eyes must have reflected pity, and the princess said, “Please don’t.”

Secora wasn’t sure if an apology would be appropriate, or if she should find a clever way to change the subject when her Satfon rang. She took the call explaining, “It’s from my husband, Gideon.” The weaver said softly, “Prepare yourself!” Secora did a double-take as she excused herself to answer. The princess shrugged and said to Destiny, “He knows these things”. . .  

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

If you’re a reader or a movie enthusiast who loves the “Indiana Jones” saga and enjoys mystery, action, and adventure, you’ll love reading all seven books in the thrilling and gripping “Rising Wind” novel series.

Books are available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle.
Read it free with Kindle Unlimited, & Soon they will be
Available as audiobooks, too!

https://www.amazon.com/Rising-Wind-3-book-series/dp/B093PRX88L/





A Special Shard Story From ‘Rays of One Light’ – not yet published of the ‘Rising Wind Series’ from Book 7…

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

 
The Weaver and the Princess
From Rays of One Light
Three-Part Story…


Secora James and Destiny Hawkins arrived at the ranch just as the sun rose on the last day in the Baja desert. Soon, they would have to return to their jobs at the University in Missoula and offer summer classes. Once they parked, they found horses saddled and waiting for them inside the vertical pole corral.

“Only two horses. Guess we’ll be going in alone again,” observed Secora. Pointing to the fence, Destiny asked, “Don’t those poles look like those spindly boojum trees we ran into yesterday?” Secora nodded, “Interesting observation.” After tightening the cinches on the bay and placing the bridle over the mare’s head, she tied the halter and rope with leather strings set near the saddle horn, and her gear bag was bunched at the back of the cantle.

A young woman wearing a protective pink and gray rebozo shawl over her head and shoulders came to greet them at the corral, humbly notifying them that her husband, Alfonso, could not take them out because he was still sick. Apologizing in broken English, she suggested a trail that would lead them to the nearest painted rocks. She added that several of the large murals were more difficult to find, but these smaller ones could be found just off the trail.

She smiled, then cautioned in Spanish, “Watch out for the spirits.”
“Spirits, Pepita?” Secora asked.
“Yes, the blessed spirits who move silently… like ghosts.”
“We will try to be respectful, thank you.” Secora and Destiny looked at each other, wondering how to interpret her words. Then, bidding Pepita and Alfonso, who waved weakly from the door a good day, the women mounted up and took the suggested trail

Destiny asked, “So, is “anima” ghost… or spirit?

Secora shrugged. After a moment, she sighed. “Perhaps she knows about some tragedy in that area. Guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Right, I suppose, spirits are everywhere.”
Hooves clattered over a thin, stony trail; half hidden on the side hill. Secora drew a breath. “This is our last chance to see the place where little Diegoaelurus, the precursor to mammalian predators once roamed.”

Destiny added, “Hopefully, we’ll be lucky enough to take in a boldly painted black and red mural.” They headed for a low ridge that dropped down into a basin toward the west, where they hoped to observe some of the impressive art left by the Archaic people who lived there more than 10,000 years ago.

Destiny reflected, “I hope we don’t get lost.”

Secora said, “We won’t. I usually turn around every few hundred feet to see what the trail will look like on our way back.”

“Yeah, and I guess we could take pictures of the main features in case we get stuck.”

“Good idea.” Secora nodded and lifted her camera. 

The changes and chances of weather and rainfall in the Baja Peninsula required special adaptations from the plants, animals, and people who lived there. Secora noticed a variety of vegetation unexpected in a desert with such wildly variable rainfall patterns and extensive droughts.

Life forms took advantage of hidden pools and ephemeral rain. Yet they must somehow survive the rare monsoonal deluges produced by storms that struck the peninsula and roared their way inland. Gashes caused by massive flash floods ripped through the terrain, leaving driftwood and huge gravel ridges along their paths.

The horses sauntered down a dried creek bed, while the women scanned the cliff sides.
Would this be the day they’d catch a glimpse of something wonderful, striking petroglyphs, or perhaps one of the well-preserved red and black murals that had caused the region to be declared a World Heritage site comparable to European Cave Art? In the distance, they saw a few wispy pines, stunted cedars, and century plants erupting from rock, gravel, or sand along the hillsides.

As they dropped into a narrow canyon, they cleared a tight corner and ran smack into a patch of jumping cholla cactus, strategically hanging over the trail. Destiny tried to steer clear, but one spike attached itself to the chestnut gelding’s mane and neck, causing him to toss his head and sidestep toward another branch. She dismounted to control the animal. “Ouch! Dang, we got too close.”

On foot, they carefully wended through a hundred feet of the dangerous spines before escaping the last of the beautiful but wicked cacti. Destiny tried to steady the gelding, while Secora grabbed a pair of needle-nosed pliers from her backpack and began plucking the painful spines from the horse’s neck. When he jerked his head, three spines ran into Destiny’s fingers. “Blast it!”


“Yeah, but it’s hard to deny how good it feels to let them do the walking.” They topped a second ridge and saw a set of beautiful palms and several species of euphorbia sprouting from the smaller side of the canyons along the arroyo.

Destiny was moved to comment, “It’s fascinating. When you look out to the horizon, lush greenery is what you see. It hardly looks like we’re in the midst of a hot, dry desert.” She stopped to take some photographs. “Oh look, I think that modest looking succulent near your horse’s leg might even be a lady slipper.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me. It’s getting on toward noon, but it’s too hot to think about eating, let alone categorizing succulents.” Destiny arched her back in a stretch. “I thought it was supposed to be cooler today, but… oof, it feels like an inferno.”

Secora pointed and spoke in a loud whisper, “There! I saw movement. Across the basin, over to our left. I think there were two or possibly three people.” “Out here?” Destiny was silent for a while as her eyes searched up and down the terrain. “People or ghosts? I can’t see anything.”

She used the telephoto to snap a picture in that direction, but her eyes saw nothing. “Where are they? Sure you didn’t see deer.”  “No, I’m pretty sure. I saw two, maybe three people walking at the base of that cliff across the basin. They were at that ruin across the way, beneath the stack of old log poles that might be remnants from a caved-in roof, but I don’t see them anymore.”

“If they were there, they probably sat down for a rest.”
“That’s certainly possible, Destiny. But now I’m seriously curious about why those old poles are clumped together.”
“Perhaps from a flash flood?”
“Could be, or they could be repurposed from an old construction site.”
Let’s go check.”

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

These exciting mystery novels unfold in various multicultural settings around the globe across the first seven books. The series has received 5-Star Editorial Book Reviews from Book Influencers Reader’s Favorite, and it has won several awards, including the Book Excellence Award and the Christian Illumination Award, among others.

If you’re a reader or a movie enthusiast who loves the “Indiana Jones” saga and enjoys mystery, action, and adventure, you’ll love reading all seven books in the thrilling and gripping “Rising Wind” novel series.

Books are available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle.
Read it free with Kindle Unlimited, & Soon they will be
Available as audiobooks, too!
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Welcome Readers To ‘RISING WIND’ and Book One ‘THE THUNDER BEINGS.’ The Backstory of Romance Between Gideon & Secora. . .

~ DianeOlsenAuthor ~ Leave a comment

“All the time I wondered who Secora James was, and how we could
possibly find, let alone help, a mythical creature.“


Wakinyan Tanka, the Great Thunderbird contacted me in a dream while I was in the hospital healing from a lightning strike. She was perched atop a misty cliff and stood at least eight feet tall as far as I could tell. Her stare had a primitive fierceness that made me feel paralyzed, unable to move or speak. She was aware, and telepathically said, “All life is tenacious. You have survived what most men would not. My kind has survived what many of the large ones from a cooler time did not. She marked the statement by raising a Mohawk of crimson-tipped feathers that ran from the crest of her head partway down the back of her gray-black neck.

I am Wakinyan Tanka.
Long ago, humans relied on the grace of my people to lift their prayers by the wind of our wings to the Great Mystery of which we are all a part of. To those who sought our aid all over the earth, we were the embodiment of effortless grace, the Winged Power who protected and destroyed.

Awestricken, I noticed that her face and the under part of the neck were lighter in color, but overall, there was a golden eagle-like impression and, just maybe, a little hawk thrown in. Yet, there were also definite differences. Her back feathers were gray, and there was bluish skin on her face near the eyes and beak. The beak was large and primitive, not like modern raptors. It looked like an upside-down canoe, meant to carve deeply into her prey.

Listen. Do not let your attention stray. I showed myself to you in a vision before the lightning strike, because you were in danger. You came outside where I could save you. The Thunder Beings are in trouble, and I am calling on you for help. She adjusted her balance. In these times, wherever we fly we are targeted and harassed. Soon, greedy men will want to imprison us and keep us from our lives in the sky. She shifted her massive wings. When the chest muscles moved, I was struck by how beautiful the gold-tinged breast feathers were.

Wakinyan continued, ‘All life is sacred, even a bug chooses to live.’
But change is the way of nature, and many animals and plants I knew are gone since the ice came and went. Only a few remain, even as they slide away as heat increases and land dries. For your kind, change is difficult. Two-leggeds hold onto vestiges of the past as sacred, often with disregard for the sacredness of the now. She dropped her head, but the reddish-gold eyes never left me.

The bird spread her dark glistening wings, which seemed to exceed the length of a large school bus. Your life is changing; mine may well be ending. I call on you now to help my people, the Thunderbirds. Either we will continue a while longer or we will end very soon. It is a thing to be decided by the Great Mystery, not for humans to control. The Wakinyan must accept whatever path is chosen for them by the One who gives life to all. And you must accept the new path chosen for you, or perish. The great bird cupped her wings and rose silently, effortlessly, from the cliff on which she perched. An updraft tickled her wing feathers, which became gilded with sunlight. Still, her eyes seemed to pierce me.

I was shocked. Gideon Yellow Thunder was a successful realtor in Missoula, Montana. I purposefully had not chosen the way of the Oglala Lakota. Wakinyan’s final thought reached me. You must prepare for a transition. Be aware of what is and be ready for what is to come. I rescued you once. If you help me, I will save you again. Still recovering at the trailer owned by my sister Jane, and her 12-year-old son, Kyah, I was catching the winking sun during a beautiful daybreak near Porcupine Creek, South Dakota. There was an undeniable peace. I was alone except for an irritated roan horse that was stomping a foot trying to dislodge a botfly that was laying eggs on its hair.

It was late June, but the breeze was tinged with crispness as I savored coffee on the porch, while taking in the surrounding beauty, and attempting to block out every stress that still clung to me. I have to admit there are times, the reservation seems like heaven. That peace was interrupted when My sister’s friend Iris Snowden arrived to plan their summer trip to South America. Try as I might, I could not ignore the trail of dust that followed a small red car off Bigfoot Road and up the drive.

“Hey, Jane! Somebody’s coming.” I slid my walker out of the way as my sister banged through the trailer door, squinted, and said, “Ah, that would be Iris,” as she trotted down the steps. “It’s been nearly a week since her sister, Secora, left for Brazil, and we still need to finalize our fieldwork travel plans.”



Jane and Iris, who worked for the Anthropology Department in Missoula, plotted and schemed while I sat on the porch and listened to the cricket music. A close family friend, Jimmy Lizardeye, climbed the steps and pulled up the second chair. He was a holy man, but I wasn’t open to that sort of 2 thing. “Hey, Jimmy, what’s up?” Jimmy offered me one of two sodas he’d brought with him. “Are you ready to deal with your haunting visits from Wakinyan Tanka?” Instant panic creased my face, as I answered in a whispered voice, “Sh… man what are you talking about? You know I don’t believe in that nonsense.” “Deny it all you want. But a Wichasha Wakan is not entirely without abilities.”

“What is a Wichasha Wakan again?”
“A holy man. Just think of me as a kind of priest who is ready to share with you the way of the Kecheta Heyoka, and to help you unravel the power of your visions. That is if you are ready.”
“No, I’m not ready.” I rubbed my eye, “I’m not looking to participate in any secret rituals!” After a long evening of planning and squabbles, I went to lie down for a rest. Another vision awaited me. It was evening, and the wind was blowing.

Wakinyan was soaring so high she couldn’t be seen from the earth. She cut through the atmosphere at incredible speed as she looked directly at me and said, Arise Heyoka. You must find the one who will save us both. We cannot endure that which is coming, alone. You need what she can teach you, to redeem yourself.
Who? The sister of the one who seeks the little humans. Is her name Secora? Wakinyan grew ever more distant, only a speck now, and then gone. I was hyperventilating when I opened my eyes, and my knuckles were white as I snatched the walker to find Jane and Iris folding clothes for their trip to research the Duendes.

“Okay, girls, hold everything! I’m coming with you.” I panted and teetered stiffly. Jane rushed to steady me. “Just get me out of here, will you?” “Change of heart?” asked Iris. “You can hardly walk, brother, and your right arm is just about useless.” My teeth clenched against a wave of pain. “I’m getting better. Listen, I think I need to talk to your sister, Iris. I’ll pay my way and cover any additional expenses. No interest.” That snagged their attention.

“Maybe Jimmy can come along to help me get around. I need help packing, Kyah can y…?” Kyah and Jimmy were already silently standing by. Iris warned, “Does everyone have a passport and proof of hepatitis, typhoid, and yellow fever vaccinations? Everyone assured her they did. Jane said, “Kyah, road trip?” “Ready, Mom.” “Hetchetu aloh.
One big happy family. So be it.” Jimmy smiled. I rolled my eyes at my unsought mentor and sighed. “Whatever.”
Who was Secora James, and how could the two of us find her let alone help, a ‘mythical creature.’

After we arrived in Bolivia, it was extremely difficult to find her. She must have been chased, attacked, and injured on several occasions before we found her. By then, I was thinking that not only Wakinyan needed her, but for some reason so did I, and I fretted until Jimmy and I got a lead to go to LaPaz, after another vision that seemed more painful than the
others. My hand was shaking as I held up the postcard image of the church I’d envisioned and compared it to the stone edifice that towered before us in La Paz. The Basilica de San Francisco. It was dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi. The beautiful cathedral, an example of Andean Baroque architecture, had been completed in 1758, or so the postcard said. “This is the place where I will finally find Secora.”

However, my intuition hadn’t told me how long Jimmy and I would need to wait in the church courtyard. It had already been a couple of hours. It was time for the elusive Secora James to make her predicted appearance. Half an hour later, I pointed. “That’s gotta be her.” The woman wearing a tight white dress, with broad lateral brown stripes. We were sitting close enough to catch a bare whiff of her floral perfume, which we inhaled deeply. I stood with my cane, stretched, then began a hobbling approach wondering thinking at long last how to introduce myself.

Jimmy grabbed his sleeve. “Hey, you sure? Doesn’t look much like the picture Iris gave us.” I braced against the cane and responded impetuously. “Has to be her, Jimmy. Look around, no one else is even a candidate and I know she’s here. I can feel it.” Jimmy Lizardeye chuckled and said, “Remember how Iris laughed when she told us that Secora’s fashion statement was ‘huh?’.No sense of style. Fringe and boots, not tight dress and perfume.” I faded into disappointment as we again sat on the bench to wait.

The plaza filled and emptied a few times. I could tell Jimmy was tired. He’d even taken-off the beaded shoulder bag, which held the sacred pipe, and set it beside him. Jimmy grinned, as a black car parked long enough to drop some people off. Gideon could see two men jump from the back seat, and pull out someone, possibly a woman. When the vehicle left, they all looked around surreptitiously, before moving down the steps toward the church. The cloaked person appeared to be limping badly.

Jimmy asked, “What about that one?” “The cripple?
I can’t even tell if it’s a woman. At any rate, no fringe, and… okay, so there are boots. Darn.” “If that is Secora, who are the guys?” The walk from the car looked rough. The suspected woman’s steps were hesitant and she was panting, or was that weeping. The young man without a hat half-dragged her forward. She seemed to be drawing back and pleading with him.

Jimmy hefted his beaded sacred pipe bag. “Maybe they’re trying to baptize her?” I regarded Jimmy, my face twisted in consternation. “Or maybe, they are abducting her.” I took a cleansing breath. “Man, I’m not even sure I want to mess with that.” “What does Wakinyan want?” I could hear crying now. “Maybe we’re already too late.” I limped forward slowly at first, psyching myself up for a confrontation. When I was only a few feet away, I froze, puzzled by a comment made by the man with the hat.

“We must get you out of sight now. Those people will not stop until you are dead. ”The woman’s voice said. “This is crazy. Other people need you.” The curly-haired one said, “No, we’re in this together. What will be, will be.” She wobbled, grabbing for a bench. Then she pulled the hat and ruana away so she could see. I hobbled up with my cane in a hurry, coming up on the trio to confront the men and alarming everyone.

The older man with the hat said, “Step away from her.” I turned my eyes onto the unexpectedly attractive woman. “Are you Secora James?” She stared boldly back. “What do you want?” “I’m Gideon Yellow Thunder and I’ve come through hell to find you.” “I’m Guillermo, said the middle-aged man with the hat. He held his hand between me and Secora. Then twisting his palm into an offer to shake, he said, “Sorry about the trip through infierno, son. She’s safe with me and my son, Diego.” Secora’s mouth dropped open as she squinted at Guillermo.

“You’re kidding–he’s your son?” Guillermo nodded with a grin. Diego was also smiling and nodding. She added that these men were healers, Kallawayas, who saved her from a poisoning. I stammered, “What? That makes no sense. I’m supposed to be the one who saves you.” Jimmy stepped between us and looked into Guillermo’s eyes, he turned to me. “Gideon, you can believe what he says. This man and his son are entirely dedicated to the service of the Great Mystery.”
I was in a state of shock and momentarily looked away, unsure how I felt about this whole thing. It was nothing like I’d expected. Diego suggested anxiously, “Perhaps we should rest inside the church, to dodge prying eyes.” He took Secora by the arm and helped her to stand.

As we crossed the plaza, she asked Jimmy, “So tell me, who are you?”

“Name’s Jimmy Lizzardeye, Wichasha Wakan from Pine Ridge at your service. And my momentarily speechless friend is Gideon Yellow Thunder, who also is from Pine Ridge, but he won’t admit it.” “Really, Pine Ridge?” Secora’s smile could have lifted the clouds. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance Wichasha Wakan, and you too, Gideon.” “Two cripples, I can’t believe it.” Still puzzled, I scratched my head. “This doesn’t feel right. I expected to rescue you, but my plans didn’t include dealing with two other heroes.” Jimmy closed in on Guillermo, whispering loudly. “So, you’re this guy’s father?” Guillermo nodded.

“Secora and my son Diego have become very close. It was the fabled love at first sight. Their souls recognized each other immediately.” Shaking my head, I said, “I just don’t get that. There was nothing about him, or you in my visions. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around everything. Guillermo nodded. We are taking her to our island to hide and protect her until we can figure out why she is being attacked. She is still quite weak and we need to keep her out of sight.”

Diego turned to him. “So, who are you Mr., Yellow Thunder?”
“I am beginning to wonder about that, myself.” I snapped. I’ve been trying to find Secora for weeks, to save her. Even though we never met before.” Gideon slowly shook his head and tapped his cane by the kneeling bench. Diego stared at the cane. What happened to the leg?” “That was the lightning strike. But my friend thinks a sniper took a shot at me. at the same time.” “Those people must not like you very much.” The Kallawaya slid to the side to get a better look.
“You should seriously change your lifestyle.” I glanced sidelong at Jimmy. “So I’ve been told.”

Jimmy and I took the ferry to the Isla del Sol with Secora and the healers. I didn’t know what else to do. Secora and Diego shared quick moments of complete connection and I had difficulty accepting their relationship. No. Wakinyan had everything else right. Somehow, I must continue his path with this– distracted woman. Things grew very quiet for a moment before I broke the ice.

“Look, Diego, Secora and I were meant to be together. Wakinyan said she needs us, and we won’t survive without her.” Diego solemnly acknowledged, “So, I’m not sure who this Wakinyan is, but you’re saying it is your destiny to work with Secora?” “More than that. I think we’re supposed to be together.” I paused. “What if she decides she wants more from me?” Diego laughed, “Oh, so you like her? She is pretty, no? You are most welcome to find out.

I think she will do what she will do. No matter what we wish.” – – –


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


ABOUT THE RISING WIND SERIES:

“The Rising Wind Book Series is a fictional mystery series with a blend of an action-packed cross-genre thrill ride!“

If you enjoy stories that incorporate elements of Native American culture, world history, extinct creatures, and romance, then this series is for you!

These exciting mystery novels unfold in various multicultural settings around the globe across the first seven books. The series has received 5-Star Editorial Book Reviews from Book Influencers Reader’s Favorite, and it has won several awards, including the Book Excellence Award and the Christian Illumination Award, among others.

If you’re a reader or a movie enthusiast who loves the “Indiana Jones” saga and enjoys mystery, action, and adventure, you’ll love reading all seven books in the thrilling and gripping “Rising Wind” novel series.

Books are available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle! Read free with Kindle Unlimited too!
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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/



“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.”

*****


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