must have been some tears as they departed, for behind them the people
left the graves of their loved ones -- babies, children, spouses, parents
and grandparents. They carried with them memories and the sadness of
dreams not fulfilled.
as I reached this point in my thoughts, right in the middle of what
used to be Giles, Utah, the old brown mare decided that her time had
come. Down she flopped into the powdery blue dust. I leaped from the
saddle just in time.
the old mare did not die after all. I revived her by carrying my hat
full of water, many times, from the Fremont River. I bathed her her
face and quenched her thirst. I even offered a little prayer.
I got her onto her feet and led her many miles. As the sun slid behind
the western hills, I mounted once again and rode into Hanksville. There
I got my bay pony and the following day we set out, he bucking, toward
home. But that is another story.