When the Earth is sick, the animals will begin to disappear.
When that happens, the Warriors of the Rainbow
will come to save them.
An ancient Native American prophesy
By a Cree woman named Eyes of Fire
PROLOGUE
Excerpt
from Elle's
Journal
#8—Year: 2032
Entry: March, Tuesday
Today I saw an
eagle feather free on the wind.
The two birds
turned in flight around one another. One
flew upside down with the other above. I
wondered if I was actually witnessing eagles mating. They were so high; they could only be eagles.
They
passed over the tall pines, out of sight.
As I watched, hoping for their return, a large feather fell, spiraling
rapidly as it dropped tip first.
Turned
by a sudden gust it fluttered about caught on the breezes. It was blown into the needles of a nearby
pine. I stared up at it, appearing a
thing out of place, its black tip invisible while its stark whiteness shone brightly
within the dark greenery.
I
sensed it was an omen, but I'm not yet sure of what, whether bad or good. I'll have to check on it again…next Monday,
after returning from Hans's annual horse show.
Maybe
the wind will catch it. Maybe it will be
tossed my way. I'm not sure why, but my
heart yearns for it.
I'm
writing this, as always, so I can remember.
CHAPTER ONE
Turning to the
next blank page in my tenth journal I began as I have daily since the world
changed—almost a year ago.
Journal
#10—Year: 2033
February,
Thursday
Day 330, Year
One
I felt it all
those years ago, before all my troubles started, but none of us would've
believed the dreadful events to come.
It's made our times one of transitions.
A world of dichotomies now exits—many attempting to go on as usual while
others prepare for an expected catastrophe.
The need for any semblance of normalcy is great.
"Sometimes
dreams are wiser than waking."
These
wise words have proved true, especially for me.
Spoken by a well-known Sioux Holy Man, the Oglála Lakhóta Wi'ca'Sa WaKán,
Hehaka Sápa…Black Elk, they could be referring
to a spreading phenomenon.
Too
few understand what haunts them. Many
have tried to rise above the ominous dread filling the air—studying in order to
reach the intuitional, Buddhic consciousness.
We practice the Centeredness of Oneness as we follow the Path of the
Heart. It's a hard path, but a worthy
one. We want more than to just survive,
because it's already begun. The chimeric
clock has clappered its first chime toward midnight in a heaven where no sound
travels. The final chime is awaited. It will come…soon.
It
feels as though Time is running out,
but it must be our perception of it, which has altered. No one can be sure.
In
the last several months many walked this difficult path alongside me, drawn
together by the source we're all connected to, searching for answers. It's been a strange adventure.
Only
one voice would express our experiences surrounding this event, but I wasn't yet
aware of the extent of the portents. I
did, however, keep my journals, much of which this book is based on. The words have become a testament of
salvation for many. Maybe you'll be
among them as you read our account. It
may clarify many things.
It
began on the day of my new beginning,
the day before the world changed…forever.
* * *
Journal
#8—Year: 2032
Entry: March,
Wednesday
Today I arrived for the horse show. I
took Tisha to dinner.
It
was a long drive, beginning my horse show excursions again. After all that's happened in the years since
my last trip, since the accident, I wondered if I could ever do it again. It helped me relax knowing my horses calmly
munched hay in their trailer.
I
wasn't sure this trip would ever happen today.
My early morning, with its lengthy and trying beginning, had added new anxieties.
* * *
It
was difficult convincing Whisper, my large grey-stripped tabby and perpetually
sleepy barn cat, to awaken and remove herself from Goliath's broad warm
rump. She opened her mouth to let out a
wisp of her almost soundless protest before sitting up on the shifting
hindquarters to yawn. She was the only
cat this beast of a horse allowed to repose so closely, and there'd never been
any quarrels or mishaps. Covering
Goliath with his red cotton sheet, I wondered what symbiotic relationship they
must share.
Big
G's trailer loading antics were predictable so I'd arranged assistance. Still, I had to try. There was always the chance he might
willingly walk right in.
"Okay,
Goliath. I know you're not fond of
squeezing into small trailers, but I bought this one especially with you in
mind. You've fit comfortably on all your
rides, so please, get in."
The
giant horse was beyond lifting or maneuvering by any trainer's secret tactic to
place inside so I patiently waited. He
had to be sure he was doing the right thing by climbing into a space his horse
sense impressed on him as being too small.
It was the same each time we did this.
His
front hooves stepped up the short ramp and he stuck his head inside the left
doorway, nosing the rump of his stable mate, Lady, over the partition. She squealed and kicked, as expected, making
all my work with protective leg wrapping more satisfying.
Lady
always loaded first to entice her oversized buddy to follow. Instead, he turned looking askance at me with
a white-rimmed eye snorting his protest.
Thankfully,
Gabe drove up for the assistance I'd requested.
I released the grip held on my lucky charm when I saw him.
"Got
a problem with the big guy?" Gabe's
mellow baritone, half-volume voice exuded calm, soothing my edge. It worked on Goliath as well. My black beast backed off the ramp to stretch
his nose toward the extra tall Texas Ranger, rumbling his own contralto deep in
his throat. Why this horse responded to
this man so well could only be attributed to Gabe's commanding self-confident
bearing, always placing him as a leader, whether of men or horses.
I'd
heard only a few of Gabe's life stories to hone this confidence, not the least
was the rescue of this large animal.
I've always been grateful for finding my way into his family circle. All he had to do was take the rope, lead my
horse to the ramp, toss it over Goliath's neck as he pat him on his tall
withers, saying, "Let's go, boy.
Ellie's got a destination to reach for
lunch." Pounding hooves followed as
my horse obliged his true master.
* * *
Once
the trailer and horses were secure, and Goliath had stomped only once, Gabe
looked at me with his same question from days before reflecting in his
eyes. He had to ask again, "Are you
sure you're ready for this?"
"Yeah. Now or never." I repeated my previous response.
"And
you're sure you don't need Dexter by your side?"
"No,
I'm not sure, but I feel fine without him.
I think watching over Dex would give me too many things to think about
right now."
"He's
the one who watches over you. Dylan
didn't match you with this excellent medical alert dog so you could leave him
at home."
"Gabe,
we've been through this." I handed
him Dexter's leash after giving my beautiful German shepherd a big hug. "I have to leave now, before Goliath gets
impatient." The horse stomped
again, proving my point.
I
stretched my arm around Gabe giving him a quick, grateful hug. I wished again he'd been the dad I'd grown up
with, but late "adoptions" can be redeeming.
"Thanks
for your help." I smiled at him
before he kissed my forehead, adding, "I promise to drive carefully."
"You
better." He smiled, shaking his
index finger at me as he turned toward the small SUV he used as his command car. He glanced back as he waved his hand back and
forth. "Let Jan know when you
arrive." Dexter leapt into the back
seat where he sat watching me.
"Tish
will call as soon as she sees me drive in the gate."
"Good,
okay." He nodded.
I
knew he was worried, but all good guardians do that, even self-appointed ones.
* * *
I
smiled dreamily, remembering my lone send-off for this voyage toward a new
beginning.
Loosened
strands, dragged from under my visor by the gusts of cool breezes blew
aimlessly in wild swirls around my face.
It was pleasant, but this was a drive I hadn't attempted for too long. I hoped I was as ready for this as I imagined.
A
tiny spark of fear sat like an unhatched egg incubating deep inside. I gripped my charm and took a deep
breath. The fear haunted me as the dreams
used to.
* * *
Once
exited from the eight-lane thoroughfare, I marveled at the changes made in the
years since my last visit to this once small city. We were packed in more traffic than I was
used to as we inched toward the first turn to my destination. I was grateful the last few winding miles
became the wooded fields I was accustomed to as I neared the long serpentine
gravel drive. It led to the curve along
the fence beside the main barn of the Northeast
Houston Equestrian Center owned by my elderly German dressage trainer, Hans
Hässler.
I
listened to my stomach growl in accompaniment with my turn indicator's loud
rhythmic ticking. It wasn't as fast as
my heartbeat, evidence of my excitement at being here again. Lady, Goliath and I arrived by noon, as
planned, without incident, to park in the lane behind the main barn.
Tisha
was relieved to see us drive in. She
hugged me as I stepped off the truck laughing as she tucked in the loose
strands under my visor.
"About
time you got here. I have lunch waiting,
and, yes, Janis has been
notified," she said.
"Good
to both. I'm starved."
I
turned to give a high, hearty wave to Hans riding a young horse at a walk
around the smaller lunge pen in the distance.
He tipped his ever-present County Donegal tweed patchwork cap in return
with his arm held high in the air, smiling his jolly ole elf expression. I didn't have to see his eyes twinkling to
know they were. I was happy to see this
hadn't changed since my last visit.
Tisha
anxiously unloaded Lady—Viking's True
Lady—a radiant chestnut beauty, full of
sassy sarcasm, yet in need of a tender touch.
She touched my sister-friend's heart so they became as twin souls across
species. Tisha truly understood this flighty
unpredictable mare.
The
horses stepped out with greeting whinnies and wide-eyed excitement. Tisha helped remove their light sheets,
unwrap their legs and put on their shin boots before they were turned into a
paddock for a little frolic. It allowed
them to loosen any kinks acquired while bracing during the drive as they also
became acquainted with their new surroundings.
I hoped this extra time would make the excitement of the coming crowds
of new people and horses easier on my future champions' nerves, and mine.
My
introductions to all eight of Tisha's charges followed lunch. Each had a registered German name, but I was
only told the nickname given by Hans, sometimes matching a personality quirk or
physical attribute.
I'll
never forget Peach Butt, her name source becoming obvious by her color and my
view from the rear as she was led away by another student rider. It was an endearing term for a
Thoroughbred-Hanoverian beauty whose real name
was French Melody. I had to ask.
I
hoped I'd never slip and tell Bonnie though.
I could already hear her giggle.
She'd probably never let her grandpa Gabe call her by his favorite
nickname again—at least not without thinking of the anatomical addition. It'd be a toss-up whether she'd just giggle
each time, or eventually become annoyed by her inability to forget that part.
The
horses settled well during this special opportunity, thanks to Tisha's position
as Head Groom and Hans' top working
student. She came from high school
graduation last June at my recommendation.
She was learning the finer details of horsemastership, German style.
Aunt
Kay, her guardian, reluctantly allowed this study after Tisha promised to
return to her real education in the
fall. Being nearby Kay enjoyed both
Tisha's and Greta's (Han's wife) company.
The
horses weren't shown their new overnight accommodations until Tisha finished
the quick clean-up grooming she gave Lady before stalling her. She knew that'd be my plan from our past
experiences together. I did the same for
Goliath.
* * *
My
big Black had been a gift in more ways than I could've imagined when Gabe
delivered him to my door and my heart.
Gabe had chosen him from a small ill-fed and ill-treated herd
confiscated from a get-rich-quick fool who'd had visions of grandeur. Diablo
Negro, Black Devil, was the name his handlers had christened him. He was scarred and too thin, his hipbones
sticking out. It gave the impression of
a head too large with too much hair in his mane and bushy tail. And I couldn't overlook the extra-large
overgrown hooves.
His
bad manners were obvious, but Gabe saw a look in the dark eyes he liked. The old ranger often chose his horses that
way and the two had connected immediately.
The
authorities insisted he become a gelding before release. He wasn't a registered
purebred, so it was probably for the best.
His having been a stallion for almost six years left its positive mark
for my dressage ambitions. My only wish
was to somehow find an offspring, possibly a reflection of its sire, but the
trail was still cold.
Saving
the horse helped heal me from the deep, inner wound I now keep hidden. Goliath—re-christened by Gabe—taught me more
about myself than he could've realized during these last three plus years
together. Caring for him brought me back
into this world.
We've
worked long hours to become a team with stars in my eyes for our upcoming
dances together. I'm sure even Fred and
Ginger couldn't have melded better in their famous waltzes, a scene unmatched
in a once popular TV dancing series.
* * *
My
dance partners were fed and bedded down before dinner. When Hans completed his long day of lessons
and training he expressed many compliments for both horses, especially wishing
to breed Lady to his new prize Oldenburger colt next year. But for Goliath, when he saw the equine
savior who'd stolen my equestrian heart, he made a curious observation.
"Elle, bitte, ah, groß, dunkl und hübsch, yah? Genau was Sie immer haben gewollt, denke ich. Uh?" he remarked, sharing his hearty body
shaking laughter.
"Tall,
dark and handsome, huh? You think that's
what I've always wanted? Well, yes, I
guess you're right…Je ne sais quoi—he
certainly has a quality that can't be put
into words."
My
only possible response was the agreement I sighed as I proudly admired my
current favorite fellow. I thoroughly
enjoyed the warm spot inside loving him gave me. It hid much of my previous hurt so anyone
watching my reaction who didn't know me, or my past experience, wouldn't have
realized he was my second horse love.
* * *
After
unhitching the trailer in the guest parking area next to Han's long vans, and
Tisha finished her evening feedings, I
stole her from Hans and Greta, her new surrogate grandparents. She followed me to the hotel where I checked
in before taking her for our traditional Tex-Mex dinner along with a quick
catch-up on "family" news.
We
found a nice corner in the hotel restaurant and I ordered a couple of
margaritas with our traditional spicy fare.
I filled the next hour with exciting stories of home. Having Tisha as part of my
"adoptive" family as a sister-friend was reflected in the magnetic
plaque stuck on the side of my little fridge—Friends are the family we choose for ourselves.
Tisha
looked taller when I first caught sight of her upon arrival, but she'd grown
three inches taller than me before she was sixteen. She was animated and cheerful, as I
remembered her from before our accident.
It was good to see that side of her again. I wondered how I appeared to her. She never said.
It
didn't take long to get back to talk of horses and the dressage classes I'd
entered this weekend. I was excited
about putting Goliath through his paces at the advanced level we'd trained
for. Tisha was looking forward to her
rides on Lady at second level. Her
masterful talent with Lady is what convinced me she qualified for Hans' guidance. She's proved a worthy student with her
assigned exhibits.
* * *
Laughing
easily after my margaritas, the tequila being more than I was used to, we
pushed the unsteady courtesy cart bumping around corners, excusing ourselves to
those we almost ran into. Being too
small for all my luggage pieces we kept dropping things. Or it could have been me, though my giggles
might've been helped by Tisha's youthful exuberance. She was always good at goading me when I was
defenseless.
It
was hardly a rush to my room, though we were hoping to catch the news reports
of the upcoming horse show. Tisha
expected one of them might include a video with her riding the teaching Hanoverian she was scheduled to show on
Saturday—the one Hans referred to as Crow
Bait.
I
asked, "Not The Professor?"
"He
is my true teacher. My Biermeister."
"Beer
Master? Really? You entered him under 'Crow', right?"
"No. I like Biermeister. Don't you?"
Laughing
with her, I gave a flippant shrug teasing as she knew I was.
After
being introduced to the proud fellow I have to say Hans must be joking with his
endearment. The big guy was
magnificent. Maybe our illustrious
trainer thought the poor boy a bit plain in his brown coat. The dapples Tisha had proudly pointed out
weren't visible in the transmission, but who'd notice these things? His classic movements were inspiring, and
Tisha was an elegant rider. The glow on
her face as she watched the screen was enough to show her affection for this
horse. She appeared more confident than
I’d ever seen her, both with the horses and herself. I’ll always be proud of her.
Tisha
and I have known each other for almost ten years, starting out as riding
student and teacher. Suffering through
the ups and downs of our separate tragedies made us feel as sisters.
I
almost lost my mind, literally, after she and I miraculously survived a
life-altering accident. Then Tisha's
parents died just a year later. She's
gone through more heartache than most nineteen-year-olds will see in a
lifetime. She always said she kept her
sanity by helping me hold on to mine. I
love her most for that. I couldn't have
gotten though my physical and mental recovery without her. We leaned on each other.
My
special group of friends didn't mind her joining our little surrogate
family. They'd lost someone during that
time as well, so we all needed the support.
What could tear friends apart actually brought us closer together. The match for all of us was secure and
loving, and better for me than the one nature's fate had appointed.
I
was looking forward to having Tisha home next week during spring break, thanks
to Bonnie's insistence.
After
the fine review we lay on our stomachs hugging pillows, each to a bed. We jabbered about everything we'd done since
last together at Christmas until we were yawning with every other word. We'd barely covered all her exciting news
before we crashed where we lay as we spoke.
She didn't even notice Dexter wasn't with me. I took it as a good sign.
CONTINUES WITH CHAPTER TWO
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