It’s been thirty-years, but I remember it as if it was
yesterday, the year is 1986, we are at the Diamond T. Ranch, in Minnesota Zaneta
is eleven years old, thereabouts. The value here resides in the premise, less
important being the plot or progression of the account! It bends the laws of
nature, and seemingly for me, orbits the paranormal; but it’s worth telling.
It was
on summer weekends I took Zaneta places, and so as this story is about the
Diamond T. Ranch, she was in fact familiar with riding horses, and we’d be
bunched up with a group of people, and ride within the woods on old horse
paths, and here and there the guide would allow us to gallop up a hill or
two. About twelve folk to the group. Zaneta was given a larger horse than normal
this day, and a more stubborn horse than expected. And as we trotted along the many paths within
the woods, all was well, I and my horse were behind Zaneta and her horse, then
suddenly, and abruptly, the lead horse galloped up an incline, Zaneta’s horse kicked up and bucked, sprang
into a gallop, and ploughed its way forward all the other horses, so hard
Zaneta flew from her saddle seat high in the
air three-feet from leather as if to depart from earth’s atmosphere: the
horse in a deep rage, bucking and kicking and galloping up this hill faster and
harder and Zaneta several times flying
from her saddle seat, it was as if an angelic being was sitting behind her,
bringing her back down steadfast and safely and holding her momentary into the
saddle.
I was
rather terrified, and had a hard time trying to pull myself together, feeling
she was about to be thrown from the horse at any moment. I was in great pain
and anguish, Zaneta was as if she didn’t even notice what was happening. In
such a moment, there is nothing a father can do for the child, except prayer;
but I do believe the angel was ahead of me.
Well,
the sun grew hotter out of the woods, Zaneta
took hold of the bridles of the horse a tinge firmer, and was not diverted by
the whole account at all and so I sat merrily back in my saddle at ease as we
road on—untroubled by the horses, —and more by the flies, and the many birds
flying to and fro, from the woods, branches hitting the faces of the horses,
then cooled by the soft breeze going down the hill to the ranch house,
whereupon the closer we got to the horse stalls, and corral, the horses in the caravan picked up their pace, knowing water and oats
were at hand.
I
approached Zaneta, after we got back to the ranch house had a coke and a bite
to eat: she looked at me a little surprised of my worry, as if there was no
need for it.
Note: This story was started in 2009, and
forgotten out of a lack of expertise in putting it into words, now rewritten
for this forth coming book, and hoping it befits the book in general. #1101/
7-23-2015/Revised, 1-2016.
