Alan S Evans [Evans - Spirit Horses

spirit horses

spirit horses

a novel

Alan S. Evans

OceanviewPublishing

Longboat Key, florida

Copyright 2009 by Alan S. Evans

Firstpaperback edition 2013

Allrights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by anyelectronic or mechanical means, including information storage and

retrieval systems, without permissionin writing from the publisher, except

by a reviewer who may quote briefpassages in a review.

Thisbook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either arethe products of theauthors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Anyresemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead,

is entirely coincidental.

ISBN:978-1-933515-25-0 (cl)

ISBN978-1-60809-114-0 ( pb )

Publishedin the United States of America by Oceanview Publishing,

LongboatKey, Florida

www.oceanviewpub.com

109 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printedin the United States of America

Thisbook is dedicated to all those involved in protecting and

insuring the future of our Americanwild mustangs.

Thesefascinating creatures should always be recognized

as irreplaceable livingsymbols of our nations

strength and resilience.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Itwould have been an impossible task to bring this book to publication withoutthe help of so many fine people who believed in me and pushed me beyond my owndoubt.

Thanksto my wife, Carlie, whom I bounced more ideas off than anyone should have toendure. To Margie and Bill Evans who became my first unofficial critics andeditors. A big thank you to Dot Whittle whose honesty, expertise, and timehelped me shape a roughed-out story into a manuscriptworthy of exposure to literary professionals. Thanks to Lynn Guelzow and Lisa Maier whose interest and connections musthave been God sent. I have a special

appreciation for Drs. Pat and Bob Gussinof Oceanview Publishing. Their investment of time, money, and faith means moreto me than I can express. Last but not least, to the entire team at Oceanview,thanks for your professionalism, enthusiasm, and creative energy that showswell beyond your desks and computers

SPIRITHORSES.

Prologue

2007Wyoming State Fair

An intense heat simmered over the fairgrounds located just south of thesmall town of Douglas, Wyoming. The light gray clouds lingering high overhead,showed no real threat of rain, but were casting some welcome shade on this hotsummer afternoon. The annual event, just beginning its final weekend, was infull swing, bustling with a record crowd.

Among a large group watching a demonstration in thelivestock arena, were two men who had never met. The strangers, both wearingfaded jeans and worn boots, soon struck up a conversation while leaning againstthe grandstands.

They had come to see the talented young horsemanthat had been so heavily advertised around town. The guy they were watching wasjust beginning to work with a nervous two-year-old black colt in a round pen.

The older of the two men threw his half-smokedcigarette on the ground, stepped on it with the toe of his boot, and asked theother, Who is this guy, wheres he from?

I dont know, the younger man answered, but Iheard hes an Indian.

A third man sitting in the stands just above lookeddown and commented. No kidding, if you ask me, he looks like a boy just offthe reservation. They all laughed a little under their breath. A few minuteslater he glanced down again, I had a chance to watch this guy duringyesterdays show, and Ill tell you this, that kids damn good with a horse.

The young horsemans name was Tommy and he wasright off the reservation, the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. Tommy wasnineteen years old and a pure Shoshone, who was starting to build a name for himself on the horsemanship clinic tour. He traveled aroundworking with young horses that were often rank and too dangerous for theirowners to train. He would hold these demonstrations in front of large crowds,showing them how easy it could be to start young horses under saddle, with theright knowledge and experience. This audience had paid to watch him and theyexpected to be impressed. He didnt let them down. The frightened black coltwas soon calmed, and eventually accepted a saddle and a rider for the firsttime in its life.

How did he do that so quick and easy? the olderman asked out loud.

I dont know, it must be some kind of Indianvoodoo, the other answered half-jokingly.

After the clinic was over, Tommy headed toward histrailer to put away his gear.

A lanky, older man, wearing a cowboy hat, approachedhim from the distant crowd. Hey kid, he hollered from a few feet away. Tommykept his eyes down and continued packing his equipment, not responding to themans loud, rude beckoning. Hey! the man repeated, I have a horse farmnearby and I could use a guy like you to help break in my colts.

Tommy, having no interest inthe job, slowly looked up and replied, I dont break horses mister, I start them... and I already make a good living doingmy clinics. But thanks for the offer.

The cowboy looked put out for a moment, thenscratched his head and accepted the answer before asking, Where the hell didyou learn to get along with a horse like that, son? Is that some kind ofancient Indian shit you do?

Tommy smiled and said, No sir, believe it or not,what I do, I learned from a white man.

Chapter 1

The fall of 1996eleven years earlier

Deep in the back country of the Wind RiverValley in northwest Wyoming

Well beyond his prime, the old Native American slowly makes his waythrough the familiar lush green forest. Finally reaching his destination, hesits on a large flat rock to catch his breath. After a short rest, he looks uptoward the snow-capped mountaintops and whispers the Indian word, Tahotay . Thenwith outstretched arms, he raises his open palms to shoulder height and beginsa chant that is old as time itself .

He is a highly revered man among his people, thelast in a centuries-old line of true spiritual shamans. He prefers the oldways, often speaking his native tongue, and living by the ancient beliefs andtraditions that he fears will one day be lost to his tribe. Its thisparticular sacred spot where he often comes to meditate and seek answers. Justas his father had done, and his father before him.

A red-tailed hawk circles high overhead in thecloudless, blue sky, screeching its piercing call. To the aging spiritualleader of his tribe, this is a sign that his ancestors are near. He closes hiseyes, lowers his arms, and drifts into a trance. Soon, a tear runs down hisface as a vision, which he has seen before, reveals a dark future for hispeople and their ancestral land.

Little does the old Shaman realize that events thatwould deeply affect his fate were beginning to unfold fifteen hundred milesaway, and a world apart in northern Tennessee.

***

The morning was beginning like many others on the farm. It was 6 a.m.;Shane Carson had already fed the horses and was now relaxing with a cup ofcoffee on his front porch. The hired help would be in soon to start setting upfor the long hours of training that lay ahead. This was one of Shanes favoritetimes of the day. With his family still asleep, he looked forward to theseearly mornings alone on the porch. It gave him a chance to plan out the daysprogress he had in mind for each horse while watching the first rays of lightslowly dance across his farm.

Shane carried a deep admiration for his land. To himthis place was much more than just a monetary asset. He saw the real treasurein the countryside itself, with its ageless, tree shaded, grassy hills andtheir whispered surroundings. Here he had plenty of room to stretch his armsand raise his kids without the congestion and problems of more populated areas.Shane felt fortunate for this lifestyle, but taking care of his land and thevaluable animals entrusted to him required a tremendous commitment involvingtimeless days of hard work.