passing

Passing On The Trail

by Dave Rhodes

We go out on the Pony Express trail

once in a while, just the horse and I,

where I'll daydream about the men

who rode this path in days gone by.

Starting our ride at Simpson Springs Station

we'll take the road back towards the east

and make our way slowly to Lookout Pass

where there's water to refresh man and beast.

It's probably not too judicious of me

wasting the whole day trying to get in sync

with the time and people of the past . . . wondering,

"How did they feel and what did they think?"

When out on the trail where the Express was run

I sometimes feel my ancestors are right there . . .

every time I go where they used to be

it seems there is something left of their spirits in the air.

If you promise not to call me crazy or obsessed

I'll relate an experience of one remarkable day.

Now, what happened to me I don't often tell

and whether it was a dream or real I cannot say.

It was early morning and just barely turned light.

Alone, I rode from Simpson north a ways

to where the mountain stops and the road bends.

My mind was full of the beauty beheld by my eyes . . .

. . . like the faint hint of sunlight on the Dug Way Hills

or the way objects start to take shape subtly

and all the colors in the sky rapidly coming alive.

That is when my peaceful trance was about to end abruptly!

Up ahead on the trail I could see a dark shape

that turned into a horse and rider as it came near.

It was a bearded man on a large black mount,

soon, I could make out his clothing and gear.

I could see the brass of an antique Henry rifle,

there was a rawhide lasso slung over the horn,

hanging on his belt was a Navy Colt revolver

and the tack was all "old style" but not hardly worn.

His pants, showing a little wear, were purple and gray tweed,

each leg of which was tucked into an old fashioned black boot.

Under his one-button suit coat was a sweat-stained white shirt

and the face 'neath the plantation hat was serious and resolute.

There was an unsettled look in his eye

as if he just couldn't quite figure me out.

He circled round behind as he slowed to a stop

and, so we could see eye to eye, brought his horse about.

After he sized me and my outfit up and down

he took off the big hat to wipe the brim.

"Did you lose your weapon?", he quietly asked.

But, my tongue was tied when I got a good look at him.

My heart was pounding and I thought I might faint

as I recognized who this striking man was!

Yet, it was hard to accept my great-great-grandfather,

our family icon, the one so dedicated to the cause . . .

. . . was setting before me, taking a drink from a canteen!

Still unable to speak, I watched him looking puzzled at my boots.

"Did you leave your gear at camp?", another polite query

as I tried to understand this encounter with my roots.

Here was the man who operated the Pony Express

over the very trail which I so often ride.

There is no way on earth to describe

the strange and wonderful feelings I had inside.

I do not know how long we lingered there together

nor what all was said in this meshing of different times,

which, strangely, seemed kinda' normal, as if it happened every day,

though, I'm not a person who dreams up visions and signs.

Gaining my composure a little, I am struck by the thought:

There must be a reason for this meeting between us two,

are there certain words I should say to fulfill the moment

or is there something specific I am supposed to do?

Finally, as our visit was in the last few seconds,

feeling like a frightened, sobbing little kid,

I blurted out in a weak quivering utterance:

"We sure do think a lot of the things you did."

A great relief came over me once it was out.

I was sure I had said something appropriate and wise,

still, hoping he understood what was meant

and what an impact he had on so many lives.

For years I had dreamed of the time

that we would meet in person, face to face

and my thanks and admiration could be expressed . . .

although, I thought it would be in a different time and place.

The purpose of this occasion was clear and accomplished

by finally being able to say these things to him.

He would know through eternity how we felt

if by chance we never do meet again.

However, in an instant, everything was changed around,

my noble and righteous thoughts were blown away

and the real meaning of this amazing event

was revealed by what the visitor was about to say.

He stopped, turned back and looked in my eyes

with a smile that burned clear through,

then, in a quiet and kindly voice said,

"We think about you from time to time too."