With an ominous foreboding
early in the following week, the skies hinted of a storm to come. Then
one afternoon the clouds thickened into dark purple gray masses. 
Wet, gray anger poured
from the Sedona sky as if some giant tyrant had elbowed his way through
the clouds. The defiant rain pounded while the lightning zig-zagged every
few seconds.
The storm did not deter
Gus from going into town to get a new cowboy shirt and belt. He had his
rain slicker on when he stopped to visit with Ream on the way home, and
to drop off a name tag and a pass for the Cowboy Poets' Gathering.
During the visit he
mentioned that Snake Buckman had stopped by his place the previous evening,
late in the night. Snake had come from the bar and was his usual slippery
self with liquor wagging his tongue and waving his arms in aimless threatening
circles. Snake had gotten rid of his horse because it had kicked
him. He wanted to buy Biff back from the gambling debt of days past.
When Gus turned him
down, he got ugly. Gus had to send him packing. Snake did not leave easily,
and told Gus he had not heard the end of it. Gus shrugged it off for the
moment, but knew once Snake was stuck on something he didn't easily forget
or let go.
Their argument stemmed
from a grudge which had hardened many years previously. Gus and Snake both
worked at the Circle J ranch near Seligman, Arizona. During the fall roundup
when they were moving cattle to lower ground, Gus was in line to follow
Snake at the late night watch. Snake had been nipping from his flask to
keep himself warm. When he returned to camp, Snake tripped over some mess
gear at the chuck wagon. The noise spooked the cattle and started a stampede
through camp. Gus broke his arm as he dove behind a tree to avoid being
trampled.
Snake was one of those
cowboys who was hard on everything he came in contact with, from women
to horses. If something didn't work he would swear at it, kick it, or hit
it. He was a big man with the air of a cantankerous bully. You could expect
a caustic retort even to a friendly smile. His laugh was reckless and hollow
with contempt. When he talked, his eyes shifted like angry bees, but first
they would boil up and allow a glimpse of something fearful deep
inside.
After Gus had put the
story to rest, Ream asked if he could bring a guest to the Cowboy Poets'
Gathering. Gus consented with a smile.
When Gus headed off
for home, Mrs. Mead found the phone number of Bob Howard, the professor
who had visited with Ream in the rehab unit. Ream had remembered Bob's
wish to be kept abreast of significant developments. He wanted to invite
Bob as his guest to the Cowboy Poets' Gathering.
Ream had developed
immense respect for Gus and his cowboy insights about life and horses.
He regarded these insights as profound if not mystical and felt all
of this was worthy to bring to the attention of Bob Howard. He also felt
a sense of spiritual relatedness to Bob and wanted to rekindle their friendship.
Bob appreciated Ream's
invitation and suggested that he drive Ream to the event the next Saturday
evening.
On Saturday morning,
Ream went into town for an emergency dental appointment resulting from
a severe toothache which had developed overnight. The dentist x-rayed the
tooth and determined it was not worth saving. The extraction became complicated,
and Ream was given extra Novacaine which made his entire jaw lip and numb
for several hours afterward.
The dentist instructed
him to keep cotton gauze in the vacant socket for the rest of the day.
Still suffering some discomfort, but determined to enjoy the evening, Ream
waited on the front porch for Bob Howard with his cowboy hat in hand.
When Bob arrived, he
helped fill out Ream's name tag writing Maurice R. Johnson at Ream's request.
He asked Ream why he used the name Maurice and Ream replied, "It's the
formal name on my driver's license and checking account. Lately it has
been helpful in distinguishing people who don't know me. If someone calls
me by Maurice, I know we have not yet been introduced. If you're curious,
Ream was my mother's maiden name."
It was sunset as they
drove to Prescott from Sedona. The gray storm clouds were migrating home
while gleaming ribbons of sunlight remained behind to sparkle the misty
gingerbread colors of Sedona.
Bob asked Ream about
the important events of his life since they had last seen each other. Ream
said he was only at the beginning of catching up with himself. All the
events of the past year had not yet settled.
He told Bob he was
going to learn to ride a horse because he felt a kinship to the free spirit
of the animal. He mentioned he had ridden Biff while Gus led him. He thought
he had found a new internal gift, that he called his "inner ear." This
gift had given a spiritual dimension to the horseback ride. It felt as
if the horse were leading him home, and, like Gus, he had found a "church"
in the Sedona wilderness. This was why he wanted Bob to hear Gus's poetry.
Ream went on to explain
the recent conversations he'd had with Sally Barringer. He told Bob about
his budding attraction for her and his concern about disclosing his
blindness.
He said, "I've had
these unusual phone conversations with a woman who has experienced a lot
of life. The talks get very deep and seem to connect remote parts of us
much like my earlier relationship with Dee Dee, I told you about. There
is a lot going on between us below the surface of the words."
Bob replied, "Looks
like you're back to the root question in life. What should one fall in
love with? I wonder what a blind man does fall in love with? Is there a
path through the maze which is clearer for him? Is there a homing device
inside him which is more accessible? The answers to these questions are
why I am keenly interested in what you're experiencing.
You have unusual perception.
Incidentally, I boiled down your remarks about Dee Dee and consolidated
them into a few pages which I will send you. I titled it The Connection.
Ream, each of our lives
is a process of unfolding an individual truth, and the fullest meaning
of it comes with personal confrontation and experience. In the same
breath, truth becomes complete when it is validated or shared, or enhanced
by another in friendship. It is only when we have the freedom to be and
express what we are in the company of others, that we can go further."
"Thanks Bob. Because
we met over the phone, this lady doesn't know I'm blind. I'm not ready
to divulge it yet. I don't know if it's because I fear her rejection or
her pity. There's something yet to be done or said before I can talk with
her about it."
"I think you're right
on this issue, Ream. It's likely the timing is not there yet, and only
you will know when it is right. I do know if you follow your music as you
hear it, your answer will find you.
Speaking about music,
I've recently taken up playing bag pipes. Something about them has haunted
me for years. I don't know if their music fits with cowboy poetry, but
I suspect the underlying depth of feeling is the same."
As they drove along
the highway toward Prescott, Ream shared the history he had received from
Gus about cowboy poetry, "Cattle herds were the first audiences to hear
cowboys recite poetry. To keep cattle from spooking, night hands would
talk or sing to them. Come roundup time, cowboys would repeat their poetry,
for the enjoyment of others."
When they arrived in
town, they were able to find a parking place near the historic Court House
Square in Prescott about a block from the amphitheater where the Poets'
Gathering was held. 
In recent times cowboy
poetry gatherings have become big events in western and southwestern states
where cowboys recite classic and original poems to large audiences of people.
The fourth annual Arizona Cowboy Poets' Gathering was being sponsored by
Prescott's Sharlot Hall Museum. The final evening of the Gathering was
highlighted with a campfire reading in the outdoor amphitheater.