SANTA FE GRIZZ AND SANTA FE SAL | home
THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL
The ears on my Cayuse perked up at the sound. I hadn't been paying no mind, my weary eyes caste on the ground. The pack mule got skittish and started to jump. Of a sudden, there was a chill in the air and my heart started racing as my mind framed an image of the bear. There he was, a big old grizz, standing on his hind legs in the middle of the trail. I jumped from the saddle and the pony took off, back down the trail for parts unknown, with the pack mule close behind. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, thinking about the prime plews and plunder on the back of that old mule. But a snort from that big hairy monster brought me back to the moment at hand and my blood ran cold as he let out a blood curdling challenge to ownership of that trail. My eyes dropped to my rifle and I quickly checked my prime and with shaking hands I snapped the frizzen back over the flash pan. Shaking like a leaf, I quickly raised the big Lancaster flinter to my shoulder and sighted down that long barrel and placed the sights in the middle of that big brute's chest. Something stayed my finger from pulling the trigger, don't know what, maybe it was the memories of the yarns I told about how my spirit guide was a bear and how my bear would guide and protect me through out my journey through life. Looking at that big old bear that was obviously about to have me for lunch, I thought about how dumb my belief in a spirit guide really was. As my finger started to tighten down on that trigger, I suddenly realized that old bear should have charged by now. But instead of charging, he kind of sagged back and sat on his haunches and cocked his head, looking at me with all the indifference he could muster. I didn't fire, but I didn't drop my aim either. We stayed that way for about a minute or so, then he up and rolled onto all fours and ambled away from the trail. He paused briefly, looked back at me and snorted once more and proceeded to shuffle in the direction of the setting sun. I'm here to tell ya, this here coon was mighty shook. My knees couldn't seem to hold me no more and I kind of dropped butt first onto a log by the side of the trail. Don't know how long I sat there, but by the time I finally had the strength to get up the shadows was getting mighty long. I walked over to where the bear had been standing in the trail and discovered that the trail kind of disappeared. Would appear there had been a rockslide and the whole trail was gone. The drop was a mite awesome and if'n that old bear hadn't been in the middle of the trail, the buzzards would`ve been picking my bones by morning. I heard a noise behind me and I whirled around thinking the bear had returned for his supper. It was just my Indian pony and that old mule, they must of got lonesome for me. I mounted up and started back down the trail in hopes of finding another way over the mountain. As I rode off I realized that I'd probably be dead right now if'n it hadn't been for that old bear. Suddenly thoughts of mystical bears and spirit guides flooded my mind, but I shook them off, cause everyone knows there's no such thing as a spirit guide. Is there?
Hans "Grizz" Horetzki