The Eagle Redemption

[KHickam]

1st of September 1811 - Moon of Yellow Leaves by the reckoning of the Lakota, summer of his 50th year. The day dawned cooler, the hot southern wind had subsided. He saddled his painted horse and rode out early to the bluff with the ancient rock cairn to contemplate another year on the Buffalo Prairies of the Lakota. His fowling piece was comfortable and reassuring in his hands. It was a well struck piece, well worn but cared for walnut stock, and its metal parts had developed a brown patina from all the years in the woods and on the prairie. His large horse pistol rode in a bucket of rawhide and smoked deer hide hooked to the pommel of his saddle.

As he crossed the prairies - he spooked a small heard of antelope that had been grazing on what was left of the sweet clover and ripe berries on his approach they ran off - he marveled at their speed and grace as they crossed the big prairie to a nearby bluff in half the time it would have taken him to cross on his horse at full gallop.

As he rode he contemplated his life - he was a man born of the wilderness, or should he say re-born many years ago, in his homeland he had hunted deer and elk, ducks and pheasant and grouse - he grew up accustomed to the perils and joys of nature and had learned to live with them rather than trying to conquer them. But, had only truly experienced his rebirth on the prairies and hills of the Buffalo Nation of the Lakota some 11 summers ago. The rebirth was not without cost - the hardship and heartache over the years had taken its toll on his body, but his spirit soared like an eagle when he once again peered upon the beautiful prairies full of buffalo, deer and antelope the streams and ponds were full of beaver, muskrat and otter. Cougars, bobcats and prairie wolves prowled along the river and draws. And here above anywhere else he felt at home and at peace.

He had loved a few women, his white wife had left him for the comfort and embrace of her family some seven summers ago. There was Stands Alone Woman, and Loves Painted Horses and others along the way. They had both brought him great joy and love for a time - but they like all the others before, left for the settlements and the comfort of villages - Stands Alone Woman somewhere up north of here perhaps with the Hidatsa, he did not know for sure. Loves Painted Horses among the Utes somewhere northwest of Sante Fe. He had loved each one deeply but in the end they wanted him to return to the settlements and regular employment and the benefits that go along with it, and this he could not do. He was a natural man, wild at heart and to do so would make him like a caged animal - he had tried it from time to time and had discovered it only brought him misery - and security without joy is not life.

He soon obtained the summit of the bluff and stood by the ancient rock cairn. He unsaddled the painted mare and let her graze nearby. As she grazed contentedly nearby - she had been his companion for a few years but he still missed his beautiful yellow mountain horse, he had given to Loves Painted Horses as a gift, the old horse had given his all and deserved to live out the rest of his days in the leisure and love of a faithful companion, that time had passed by.

Time? He had little left now, the disease had progressed as the doctors in the settlements, had said it would. It had robbed him of his robust body and virility, a shadow of the man he once was. His strength had waned, it took most of it to hoist his wasted body into the saddle. He took out his heavy horse pistol - it was a large caliber, brass barreled, English pistol made by Ketland. It carried a bore of 20 balls to a pound, sufficient for the task he might call upon it at any time. It too was well worn, like himself from years in the saddle and weathered by time. He had come to contemplate his life, as he turned over the deadly instrument in his hands and looked upon the familiar nicks and dents, the gun had saved his life many times - it seemed the appropriate instrument for the task.

Life - Such a fleeting, precious thing, but like all good things it too must come to an end sometime - the Creator had endowed it so, for mortality must be finite to be enjoyed fully - for if people had no death - then joy and sorrow would not be so deep and the growth that comes from that would limited. He turned the pistol over in his hands the smooth walnut stock contrasted sharply with the bright brass of the barrel and furnishings and he must admit it was beautiful creation in its own right.

He prayed trying to make sense of things - the Church made no sense, why one death was somehow more noble than another. Why is it more righteous and noble to waste away in the settlements drawing your last breath bedridden in some room or cabin somewhere - waiting for the cruel Reaper to determine your time. Why is it sinful to chose your own time and place, but noble and righteous to let the Angel of Death chose for you? If this body was truly just a mortal shell, and the soul eternal - why does the manner of your last breath matter?

He reached up and traced the familiar hammer of the pistol and the serpentine shaped cock, he flipped the hammer forward and refreshed the prime from his yellowed and carved horn, it snapped back into place easily and he thumbed the cock back, the sure and familiar clicks as the the sear engaged - first one, then another.

He had loaded it for this occasion the night before, a hefty charge of powder, with a ball and several small buck shot on top - he had no wish to linger long after the sear tripped and felt this load would be up to the task to ensure he did not.

He turned the gun toward his breast, and as he slowly increased the pressure on the trigger slowly, almost willing the trigger to trip. He heard an eagle cry and the rustle of wind and - the flap of wings nearby? He opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of a beautiful golden eagle not 10 feet from where he stood, he eased the pressure on the trigger, it was as if the eagle was speaking to him, imploring him, it was not his time yet.

[Bulldog lady]

Please clarify again-   Again a great story  keep them commin

[KHickam]

thanks