The Winter's Trail Read online

  The Winter’s Trail

  Sharon Breeling

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  The Winter’s Trail

  About The Author

  Dedication

  Copyright Information ©

  Acknowledgement

  SynopsisWinter’s Trail

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About The Author

  Sharon Breeling is a Colorado girl. She lived in the Rocky Mountains for many years before settling in the Denver area. The mountains are her backyard, and she hikes and fishes there. Last summer, she climbed her first fourteener. Sharon started writing short children’s stories as a hobby and decided to write a novel. Traveling to small towns and getting to know the people there provides inspiration and characters for her books.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Michael Breeling. He shared so much of his life with me and inspired me. He is a dusty old cowboy at heart. Thank you, Mike, for being a part of my life and for believing in me and letting me tell some of your story.

  Copyright Information ©

  Sharon Breeling (2019)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

  Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Ordering Information:

  Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

  Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

  Breeling, Sharon

  The Winter’s Trail

  ISBN 9781643789101 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781643789118 (Hardback)

  ISBN 9781645365587 (ePub e-book)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019915833

  The main category of the book — FICTION / Sagas

  www.austinmacauley.com/us

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

  40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

  New York, NY 10005

  USA

  [email protected]

  +1 (646) 5125767

  Acknowledgement

  I would like to acknowledge the town and people of Calhan, Colorado.

  Synopsis

  Winter’s Trail

  The Ironwood Ranch sat several miles southeast of Calhan Colorado. It boasted wonderful grass for cattle, canyons or “hoodoos” to get lost in and a fantastic view of Pikes Peak especially at sunset. David grew up on this ranch. His father was a rancher and a woodworker. The ranch was full of his handcrafted furniture and mantles, and the gate was a sight to behold. His mother was a beautiful woman who understood the loneliness of an only child and strived to entertain and instill values in her red-haired, lanky son. The day David’s father bought him his first horse began a life-long friendship of three unforgettable horses, the horse trainer Juaquin, and a love for the ranch like he had never known. The strong young man served his country in Viet Nam and, thanks to his mother, started writing in his pocket notebooks thoughts and events that documented his life and his strong feelings about the love of his life.

  Ruth came into his life to complete it, but slipped away until his deep love for her brought her back from the death’s door and back to the ranch. The whole town and most of the surrounding county came to know and care for this extraordinary man and shared in his life’s journey.

  Chapter 1

  Rosie was waiting out by the big front porch for David. He was up very early to saddle her up and feed her before he got ready for his ride. From the weight of the saddle, the horse knew it was a ride along the fences. The rides lasted several days and before leaving, Rosie knew if she left the barn and wandered over to the sprawling ranch house, there would be some homegrown carrots waiting for her. Ruth had a big garden full of carrots for the horses. She and David didn’t eat them and they grew big and sweet. Nothing else grew in that garden and the neighbors joked about it, but it made her feel good to grow them for the horses.

  David tried to not wake his sleeping wife. He turned on the bathroom light so he could get his other boots and stopped to look at his wife. Her long blonde hair was on the pillow and her hands were in little fists under her face. No matter how quiet he was, he always managed to wake her. She rolled over, smiled at him, stretched, and asked him not to leave without a cup of coffee and something for breakfast. He nodded, gathered his things, went to the big open kitchen, and sat down at the old wooden table. His father had made that table out of an old cottonwood tree that had been struck by lightning.

  David was about seven and remembered his father showing him how to use the woodworking tools. It took a while to finish it. He thought about his mother and how proud she was of that old table and how she took out the big can of paste wax. David and his mother spent hours putting a soft finish on the wood. It’s still beautiful. The tools were long gone, but David still had the wooden box that they came in. He had spent many happy hours at that table: meals, homework, play, and just talking.

  While Ruth was putting coffee on the stove and starting some steak and eggs, her husband was putting on his boots. They weren’t his usual worn working boots. They were his nice boots, handmade in Raton, New Mexico. They were hand tooled green leather on the top and soft brown cowhide on the bottom. They were handstitched and tooled and were the finest cowboy boots he had ever seen. Through the years, he had worn them to parties, dances, funerals, and church. When he put them on, they fit like a glove and felt like slippers on his tired feet. Ruth was puzzled about the boot choice, but she shrugged her shoulders because she knew his work boots needed to be resoled again and it required a trip to Colorado Springs and waiting for several days.

  David put his work boots in the corner by the door. He opened it and told Rosie he would be right out and sat down for some strong coffee and breakfast. Ruth made nice breakfasts since her retirement from being a teacher years ago, and she never let him leave without one. David finished his breakfast and Ruth picked up his plate. As she walked away, he admired her tight jeans tucked into her worn Ropers and old University of Colorado sweatshirt. She wasn’t always this fit. She had gotten ill and lost weight but she still was pretty to him.

  That blonde hair would not go up into her signature ponytail till she left to do her chores. It was very pretty and was still tousled from bed. She wore no makeup, yet her still smooth and unwrinkled skin was pink from sleep. She was most beautiful in the morning. David had more gray in his brown hair these days and his handsome face was now getting weatherworn. He stood up to go and finish getting ready but before he left the room, he went to the sink full of suds that his wife had her hands in and stroked her hair and kissed her neck. And just so she knew it was really him, tickled her side till she giggled. That giggle was gold. He loved it every time.

  In the bedroom, he reached onto the closet shelf, took down his Stetson, opened the top drawer of his dresser, and grabbed his spurs. They weren’t just any spurs. They were nickel silver with rounded rowels, not sharp ones and were made by Crockett. They were trophy spurs that he won in a ro
deo. The old western wear store in Fountain put them up as a prize and he valued them more than any cash he won. He wore them when he went to the rodeo or out to a dance. He hadn’t worn them in a very long time. That old store went out of business a while back, times have changed. He sat in the chair, fastened them on, and grabbed his spiral notebook and a number two pencil to put into the pocket of his nice, white western shirt. The little notebook had a spiral on the top and the pages were lined. The pencil was new, so he snapped it in half so it would fit in his pocket. Ruth asked him why he had on a white shirt today and his response was that he was going to have a long talk with God today and give thanks. He wanted to look his best. She laughed. Everything he did was for a reason and she was always surprised with his explanations.

  David hung his sweat-stained Resistol hat on the hook above his work boots by the door. He had had that hat a long time. It had been stepped on by a bull, been rained and snowed on, and had been reshaped more times than he could count. It was a silver belly 10x beaver hat and was a light grayish tan color. It was soft and fit his head so well that a wind couldn’t take it off of him. But today was special. He put on his black Stetson 10x beaver hat. It had a simple horsehair band on it. On went his holster with the second-generation Colt peacemaker. It was his father’s gun and he learned to shoot it at a young age. It had a six-inch barrel in a .45 long colt caliber. David was a good shot, but it helped that he had a gun he could count on. He also carried a Winchester model 94 30-30 caliber in his saddle. The wood was worn on it, but it always hit its mark and saved David’s life more than once.

  He opened the kitchen door and stepped out on the porch. Rosie was in a hurry this morning and his three-year-old border collie, Pete, was running circles around her. It was cool out on the porch. The sun was just starting to come up and the eastern sky was a slight orange color. Ruth came out with full cups and sat on a rocker next to his to have one last minute with him. She packed food, a thermos, and water for him and he was ready to go. David called the dog over to his chair and made him lie down. Pete was too hyper to take with him. The last time the dog went with him, he got tangled up with a skunk and wasn’t allowed in the house for a week. Besides, Ruth needed someone to talk to. The couple enjoyed a little more time and a cup of coffee together before he got up to mount and ride. Ruth liked to sit close, touch his arm, and savor the smell of strong coffee and Old Spice. He got up and wrapped his arms around his wife, kissed her soft neck, and threw his leg onto his horse. As usual, before he left, Ruth reminded him that if he got an ATV, the job could be done in less than a day instead of two. The sixty-seven-year-old man just laughed and said it would be called riding, not ranching then. Besides, the machines frightened the calves and made them impossible to handle.

  He pointed Rosie east towards the pretty sunrise and set out to fix the fences. Tumbleweeds were hard on fences and this year saw record amounts of weeds. As David headed towards the ridge and the east fences, he turned Rosie around. The sun was up enough that he could clearly see the big red barn and the long, low, wooden farmhouse with the huge porch.

  He could see the rockers and even Pete on the porch, but where was Ruth? Then he saw her come out of the house and step down off the porch to the yard. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail and she was ready for chores. She stepped out into the driveway and the rising sun reflected off of her golden hair as she waved at him. He raised his hand to wave but decided to blow her a kiss. Then he turned the big red horse around and they disappeared over the ridge. The Ironwood Ranch was southeast of Calhan Colorado. It was the biggest one in El Paso County and had a view of Pikes Peak from the hill.

  Chapter 2

  David sat tall on his saddle. It was a high-backed Hamley Saddle, plain with no silver or tooling on it, with the exception of the small silver plate on the back of the seat that said, “Hamley Saddle Company, Pendleton Oregon.” It was custom-made for David and fit him well. He could ride for days. Rosie just got her new annual saddle pad and blanket and was comfortable too.

  He didn’t want to miss a thing about this sunrise. The air was crisp and cool and there was still a smell of sage in the air even though it was late in the fall. A few tumbleweeds rolled past him as he left the yard and went over the first ridge and past the big cottonwood trees and stock tank. The grass was thick here and Old Dan was the only horse at the tank this morning. David stopped to hand a couple of his wife’s giant homegrown carrots to the horse. As he reached out to pat the old horse’s forehead, Old Dan raised his tired head up to meet the rancher’s hand. Their friendship went back many years and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.

  David finished feeding Old Dan the carrots and made a clicking sound so Rosie would move. They rode through the cottonwoods, past the old burned-out stump of the very large old tree that was brought down by lightning.

  He remembered, he was about seven and the crash woke him up from a sound sleep. Early the next morning, he took the pickup out with his father to cut that old tree up. His father was very careful to measure the wood and cut the trunk and branches into uniform lengths. David’s dad was also a woodworker. He spent lots of hours making this fallen tree into a table that saw many meals and lots of homework and long evenings of reading or playing a boardgame with his very patient mother. There wasn’t much time for games or fun on the Ironwood Ranch, but his mother always set aside time for him to be a boy.

  His chores gave David plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts. He learned to ride at an early age and worked the cattle with his dad and other cowboys. As he rode past the loading chutes and corals, he remembered the days of hard work. There were the calves to separate and brand, and the steers to weigh and send to the auctions. David liked working at the auctions. But most of his chores were close to home. He brushed and cleaned the horses and cleaned out the barn. As soon as he was ten, Dad taught him to drive a loader so he could move hay into the barn. The woodcutting built up his muscles and he was glad when the house was converted to gas. But his all-time favorite chore was to help his mom feed the chickens and collect the eggs with her. He didn’t even mind cleaning the chickencoop or gardening with Mom. She would sing, tell jokes, and ask him about the books he read, school, and his friends. David had two good friends since the first grade. Jake and Christopher rode the bus with him. They were rough-and-tumble ranch kids with large families and were like brothers to him. Sometimes they would ride their horses over to the Ironwood Ranch, swim in the stock tank, practice calf roping, and even play a little football in the dirt yard. That scared the chickens and there wouldn’t be eggs for a few days, but his mother never scolded him for it. The sound of the boy’s laughter made her smile.

  There were no chickens now. David really didn’t like them and got his eggs and chicken at the neighboring ranches.

  His mother encouraged him to join football and rodeo while he was in school. She wanted him to not miss out on fun with his friends just to work on the ranch. She never missed a game; he could see her in the small bleachers. It was a small school, all in one building and the team was made up of kids from surrounding towns, some all the way from Kiowa. Farm kids played good football. His friend Jake went to college on a football scholarship. David wasn’t as good a player, but his mom cheered in the stands and he could still hear her voice today. She went to rodeo events, but they made her nervous. He didn’t hear her cheer then. She sat in the grandstands, way at the top by the announcer’s booth. Sometimes he thought he saw her cover her eyes. She never complained though. His dad used to rodeo and while they were out working, he would show him calf roping tricks and how to handle his horse. He never wanted David to ride a bull, though. He said that something gets into a bull when there was a rider. He used to say it’s as close as you can get to the devil. His dad had a few scars and broken bones, and as he got older, those bones hurt.

  David had made a promise to his mom that while he was in school, he wouldn’t ride a bronc nor a bull. He had other skills. He got his fi
rst quarter horse when he was a teen. Rusty was red and not too tall. He had one white foot and couldn’t stand still.

  One Saturday when David was fifteen, his dad took him to the auction in town. It was a special one. They had quarter horses, saddles, tack and King ropes, boots, and hats. He was only going to get a new hat but as he and his dad were walking around looking at the horses and tack, this horse surprised him. The Four Sixes Ranch in Texas brought five big trailers with five horses each. They were big, shiny, new trailers and as they walked each horse off, David started to daydream about having his own. There were horses on the ranch but none like this. He knew he could rope a calf and do just about anything at the rodeo with one of these beauties. His dad watched him walk around and listen to the men examine and comment on each horse. For a little bit, he lost sight of his teenager in the crowd of men and horses. Then all of a sudden, he watched David fly through the air as if someone pushed him really hard. The boy got up and brushed himself off and before he could take a step, a short red horse came out of the crowd and pushed him again. People stopped to watch the match between the boy and the horse and started to laugh. It seemed like the horse won when David turned around and confronted Rusty. His face was angry and for every step he took forward, the horse would back up a step. If he turned his back, Rusty would push him again. Finally, David extended his hand and the horse nuzzled it with its nose. Later, the father and son were sitting in the stands at the auction.

  David liked to watch livestock auctions. All of the Four Sixes horses went for top dollar and went fast. The last one to go into the arena was Rusty, the short red horse with one white hoof.

  The boy was startled when his father put in the first bid. Then he waited and waited. No matter how much the auctioneer talked, no one wanted to bid against his dad. The horse was his. The rest of the time was spent getting tack and, of course, his hat. David’s hat was too small. He rarely wore it and with his red hair and freckles, he came home with a lot of sunburns. So, he got his Resistol working cowboy hat and felt really good. They had not planned on buying a horse when they went to the auction that morning. A quarter horse was a luxury on a working ranch. All their friends came to congratulate the boy on his horse as he held his reins and waited for his dad to come with a trailer. One was loaned to him by his friend, the county sheriff. He didn’t buy a horse because he thought the boy should have one. David carefully loaded the horse in the trailer and as he did, his father and the sheriff were chuckling. They couldn’t tell where the teenager’s hair ended and Rusty’s hair began. Those two belonged together and the whole town could see that they were going to win a lot in the rodeo circuit and would be the best of friends. It didn’t happen often, but these two bonded in front of the whole town. Everyone was just as proud as if he was their child.