Welcome To The Bullpen
The River
Tracy T Thurman
I came to the river out of desperation. It had been a long time since I ventured away from a world filled with greed and envy. I guess I finally couldn’t stand another traffic jam or another edition of the evening news.
My life had become a revolving door of doctors and lawyers. There wasn’t anything I could do about the sickness that grew in me. I kept it a secret and warned the doctor to do the same. My wife had her lawyers drawing up divorce papers and I certainly didn’t want her to know about my cancer. She could go and find her own happiness, take what she wants and leave me alone. Like the cancer there wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway. My life had been devoured by a run amok system and my soul was crying out for respite.
So there I sat on the willowed bank of that meandering river, contemplating the graceful swirls of its surface. I tuned out the din of the highway in the distance and resigned myself to the sounds of the river. The frustrations of my modern life slowly began to ebb away as the serenity of the water and the whisper of a gentle breeze welcomed me into their company. Here was a place the touch of man had not ruined and it was beautiful. I thought of the years since I had visited such a place I felt I had come into the home of an old and trusted friend.
I took a sip from my canteen and out of impulse poured a drop or two into the rivers course. An insignificant gesture to be sure but it felt good to make some sort of offering. Perhaps it would carry that little splash of water to a tiny sapling struggling to take root in its banks, or maybe offer it up in the form of a few rain drops. It might carry it to another troubled fellow somewhere along its path and offer it to him to cool a worried brow. I looked up and saw a hawk circle above then wing its way north.
The sun was beginning to settle into the horizon, Crickets began serenading their lovers and the banks of the river made ready for nightfall. I built a small driftwood fire and prepared a dinner from the provisions in my pack. I picked up the satchel that carried the bottles of pills the doctor instructed me to take. He said they would slow the onset of my sickness. More correctly, they would prolong the inevitable. I thrust the bag back into my pack unopened then settled back and watched as the last shreds of daylight slipped away.
There was a chill in the air and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. The sky was covered with a blanket of stars that faded against the glare of city lights on the horizon. A whippoorwill called to its mate. The occasional splash of a fish echoed from the rivers surface.
Nature’s symphony was playing out a tune of contentment to me so I just leaned back on an elbow and listened. A flicker of movement caught my eye. A young coyote eased along the river’s edge searching for an evening meal. I lay as still as I could for fear that the slightest movement might spook him into flight. He paused and intently studied the air. He must have decided that I was no immediate threat for he continued on to the edge of the water and drank a good bit as it trickled past his nose. He lifted his head then and must have caught the scent of something more interesting than me. I watched as he scampered a short distance away and rubbed playfully with another of his kind, a young female of course. He hesitated only for a moment as they traipsed away together and glanced back at me. I gave him a quick wink and a smile, I’m sure it was my imagination but I could have sworn he did the same in return.
Stretching out in my bed roll my thoughts turned to the contrast between this world and the one that my own kind had created. How beautiful this country must have been before the influence of modernization crept over it. Even this wondrous river, through man’s manipulation had been dwindled down to little more than an over grown creek. Though wild and wonderful it still was. I found myself suddenly wishing that it was a hundred years ago… no, a hundred and fifty years ago. What it must have been like? Clean and untouched, when a man was obliged to live on even terms with his environment and the blessings of the earth were apparent in every blade of grass and every kiss of the breeze. Where pristine rivers flowed endlessly through a land unspoiled by what we called progress. Where the creatures of the wild enjoyed the abundance of life and a man chose his own paths to walk toward his destiny, without the help of lawyers, bankers, and politicians.
These thoughts along with the gentle sounds of the river and the night soon coaxed me into a comfortable sleep.
I was awakened suddenly, by what I don’t know. My fire had burned down to only a few glowing coals. Glancing around I could see nothing amiss or out of place but there was a feeling in me that something was different. When I was about to write it off as nothing but a frayed nerve, the fluttering sound of a horse blowing came from across the river. Standing up I looked cautiously to where the sound came from. There in the moonlight stood a horse, saddle and all. I searched the river bank but could see no sign of the rider. The animal nodded its head toward me, stamping and pawing at the sand as if beckoning me over to him. Carefully I waded across the narrow point unable to take my eyes off of him. Where did he come from? Why was he here?
When my feet touched the opposite side of the bank, the horse plodded tamely toward me. I spoke softly to him and patted his neck. He was a white horse with splashes of brown across his rump and neck. He wore a plain leather saddle and carried the sort of outfit that one would pack had they planned to be out on the trail for a while. I looked about but found no signs of a rider. The horse nudged me with his nose and I got the hint that he wanted me to go with him, to where, I had no idea but I couldn’t resist the invitation. I patted him again and swung into the saddle and turned that pony into night.
We rode away from the river and up into the hills where the air was fresh and crisp. The world was wide open and the view went on forever. It was the dead of night but the entire landscape was illuminated by a great full moon that shined through a crystal clear sky.
I found myself looking out over the valley and found it to be familiar. Standing in the stirrups I searched the valley for a clue as to where I was. I searched for the lights of the highway but they were not there. Even the glow of the city was absent from the horizon. Nothing familiar save for the valley itself bathed in effervescent moonlight with gently rolling hills and lush green trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Taking the reins in hand I turned down into the valley and away we went, running into the unknown free as the wind that blew through the horse’s mane. My lungs filled with the sweetest air I had ever breathed, and my spirit soared as the joy of life swept over me.
We slowed after a while and sauntered along through the valley floor. The horse seemed to know where he was going so I let him follow his nose and sat back and enjoyed the ride.
We were passing a clump of trees that stood alongside a stream. I caught a whiff of wood smoke as the horse stepped up his stride and headed for an opening. There was a man leaning over a fire reaching for a scorched coffee pot. His back was toward me as I approached. Without a glance he gestured with the coffee pot and called me into his camp.
“C’mon up to the fire and have a sit.”
The invitation had a tone of familiarity and friendliness in it. I parked myself on a large rock across from him and he shoved a tattered old cup in my hand filled with scalding hot coffee. I looked across the fire at him as he settled onto a rock of his own. The man was quite a bit older than me; salty whiskers lined his weathered face. He was dressed in a pair of old jeans and wore a buckskin shirt. His boots were run down and showed more than a few homemade repairs. He had a wide, sweat stained hat that covered the back of his neck but failed hide the strands of gray hair that hung from underneath. I guess in my world he could easily pass for a vagrant. But here in this world he was a part of the land. A tenant of the far reaching places. Places that up till now had only lived vaguely in my imagination.
He sipped his coffee loudly and winced as the hot liquid rolled down his throat.
“Whatcha been up to?” He asked suddenly.
Well, the question startled me. I had no idea how to answer it. I looked over at the horse munching grass and wondered if maybe it belonged to this man. “Just riding around.” I finally managed. “Is that your horse?”
He looked over at me as if he knew who I was, then eyed the horse and shrugged. “Naw… aint mine.” Then introduced himself, “My name is Styles, Jim Styles. I been out here a long time, seen a lot of fellas like you… just ridin’ around as you call it, but most of ‘em head back to where they came from.” He eyed my damp pants legs and boots. “Ya oughta dry off a bit by this fire, looks like ya been wadin’ as much as ridin’.” he laughed.
I burnt my lip on the hot coffee and the man paused for a moment and then looked at me quizzically. “Do you know where you’re at?” The question sounded odd but given the events of the night so far, I guessed it wasn’t particularly odd after all.
I thought only briefly then replied, “I’m right where I want to be.” He laughed appreciatively at that and we talked of our lives like we were old friends. I told him of my divorce and of my sickness. He told me of losing his family in a fire. “I came here not long after that.” He said “…and been here ever since.”
Soon the horizon began to glow and I felt a pull inside me, beckoning me to leave. I bade Jim a farewell as I swung into the saddle and headed back to my little camp on the river.
“Maybe I’ll see ya again.” He hollered as I raised my hand and rode away.
When we reached the very spot from where our ride had begun I urged the horse to carry me across the river. But he would go no farther. I patted his neck and told him it was okay as I stepped down out of the saddle. He turned and trotted off, fading into the twilight.
I awoke with a start, my eyes blinking at the bands of sunlight that played out from the horizon. I was in the same place where I had gone to sleep the night before. Everything was clear in my mind but there I was as if I had never left. I could hear the sounds of the highway, and I could see the haze of smog that hung over the city in the distance. I finally decided that it must have been a vivid dream brought on by skipping a daily dose of pills. A great dream it was, but that’s all it was. Any sensible man would know that.
I caught myself glancing at my watch, an idiosyncrasy born of modern life. I had appointments that day, the doctor and the lawyer. I couldn’t bring myself to leave my little camp just yet. Besides, I thought, they would get their next few BMW payments whether I was there or not. The watch found its way to the bottom of the pack next to the little satchel of pills.
I coaxed my fire back to life and dug through my pack, past the cans and packages of dehydrated noodles until I found the kit that contained my assortment of fishing gear. I fashioned a line and baited it with a grasshopper that was to slow in the early morning chill. Tying it to a low hanging willow branch I let it dangle in the water. While I waited for it to attract my breakfast I readied a pot of coffee over the fire.
My thoughts wondered but were never far away from the experiences of the night before. What a wonderful trip it was… even if it was just in my mind. The coffee was ready and I lifted a cup to drink. The sharp twinge of a burn halted my hand and I touched the place on my lip with my tongue.
A splash sounded from where my limb line was tied. I hurried over to find that the hapless grasshopper had done his job admirably and breakfast was about to be served. After cleaning it, I broiled that fish slowly over the hot coals of my fire, until it sizzled in its own juices, and the skin all but slid off. A fish prepared right next to the water in which it swam will best anything served in a restaurant.
I spent that day in the company of my river host. I explored the area close by and even gave into the urge to look for horse tracks on the other side. There were none.
When the sun had finally completed its track across the sky and night fall was once again creeping out of the shadows, I stretched out in my bed roll and gazed up at the stars as they winked into view. My fire had burned down to coals and I let the musical sounds of the night sing me to sleep.
Once again, just as before I found myself wide awake. I looked to the opposite bank and there in the moonlight stood the same horse, pawing at the sand. I quickly made my way over to him. Swinging into the saddle without a second look back we galloped away into the crisp night air.
As we topped out over the valley I saw a rider approaching. It didn’t take long to recognize that it was the same man I had visited with the night before. He pulled up alongside and grinned. “I told ya I might see ya again.” He said. I held out my hand and replied, “Howdy Jim. Good to see ya.” He shook my hand and nodded, “Come on, let’s ride!”
We spurred our horses and raced down a dusty trail across the valley floor. We were neck and neck when we came to a rise and halted to let the horses catch their breath.
I was patting my horse’s neck and kind of doting on the animal when Jim looked over at me. “That horse has taken a liking to ya.” He said. I smiled again. “Yep, I guess he has.”
He eyed the animal, “Kind of a calico paint aint’ he?”
“As a matter of fact Calico is his name.” I replied, deciding on it right then and there.
I mentioned the fact that I couldn’t get Calico to cross the river the night before. “You think he’s scared of water?” I asked.
“Naw.. he aint scared of water or nothin’ else. He just knows that he belongs on this side of the river. Just like me.”
I tried to make sense of that reply but decided to let it pass.
“Hey Jim…, I’m kind of curious about all this. How is it that a dream can seem so real and where do you come in to all of this?”
Jim considered the question a minute then looked a bit sideways at me. “What makes you think this is a dream?”
I began to speak but he held his hand up and said, “Don’t worry friend, you’ll figure it all out soon enough.”
With that we rode on until the eastern sky began to turn gray.
We sat on the bank on the bank of the river. Jim pointed across to where my camp was. I looked there and I could see a still form under the blankets of my bed roll. I saw myself sleeping there by a cold fire.
“You don’t have to go back y’know.” He said, and then continued. “I didn’t when it was my time and I’ve never been sorry.”
His expression reflected the gravity of his statement and implied the finality of my decision regardless of which way I chose. I looked over at him and back across the river one more time.
“Where do you go from here?” I asked
He looked up and watched a hawk circle above then wing its way north. “Me? ... I’m gonna follow that hawk.”
I followed his gaze and couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s ride.”
We left the bank of the river for the last time and for the first time I saw the sun come up over a wild, untamed, unspoiled land.
We paused on a knoll, “Is this…Heaven?” I asked.
He cocked his head sideways a bit and looked over at me. “Would ya know heaven if you saw it?”
I pondered the question for a moment. “No…, No I don’t guess I would.”
He stood in his stirrups and eyed the horizon. “Heaven?” he repeated the question with a nod then shook his head and smiled. “Naw, I think more’n likely… Arizona.”
I’ve been here a while now. Time doesn’t matter much in these parts. I’ve ridden across the plains and the mountains, living on my own, on even terms with the land. Well, me and old Calico are headin’ west to see what’s on the other side of those mountains. You’re welcome to come along if you wish, or you can go back, it’s up to you.
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