On July 4th, their small
procession left the red rocks of Sedona as the early morning sun beamed
a song of praise to the dawn clouds which had appeared in the night to
tower high above the red cliffs.
Ream and Bob sat in
the front seat of Gus's old pickup as he hauled the trailer with Biffer
toward Prescott. They had practiced for all contingencies and things which
could go wrong. They surprised Biff with a CO-2 fire extinguisher during
training. Ponduro even hid in a fifty gallon drum as Ream rode by
and then jumped out with a noisemaker to further test Ream's ability to
deal with surprises.
Ream was dressed in
a bright apricot cowboy shirt with a cluster of cream stars on each shoulder.
His chaps matched his sun glasses which were tinted bronze. He wore his
special cowboy hat, and his whole outfit complimented Biff's redwood bay
color with his black socks, mane and tail.
Gus looked especially
distinguished in his sky blue shirt with gray chaps topped off with a silver-belly
hat, but then there was something about Gus and the mustache which always
did.
Gus parked near their
slot in the parade lineup and Ream helped him unload their horses.
Bob gathered his bagpipes from the saddle compartment while Ream and Gus
saddled.
People were walking
past on the sidewalks, carrying folding chairs and making their way toward
Cortez Street. There was a slight hint of a breeze, and the day seemed
made for a parade.
Ten ragged, rough looking
men in buckskins rode by on shaggy horses. They were the "Bill Williams
Mountain Men". Across the street, a bevy of bedizened women in gaudy old-fashioned
costumes sang as they rode beautifully capped horses. They were the "Wild
Women of the West". Directly ahead were the boys and girls from an international
summer camp, all on ponies followed by a hay wagon of other campers square
dancing to a lively tune.
After Ream and Gus
tested the radio, they mounted the horses to make final adjustments. Satisfied
with a short test ride, they returned to their place in the parade where
Bob, wearing his kilt with knee socks and a green velvet jacket, was waiting
with several members of the Cowboy Poets' Association who had stopped by
to give their best wishes.
It is here we pick up where our story began. Now, with the history of the past year in place, the saga continues...
The three men heard
a drum roll from down the street, and felt the air thicken as the parade
started two blocks away. It would take some time before their segment
would march. 
Ream was occupied with
all his senses experiencing the crowd, the air, the noise, and the radio
connection to Gus. There was a band playing fifty yards in front and music
from a country western singer behind.
Without warning, actors
playing seedy outlaws fired blank shots from pistols in a mock gun fight.
Horses in front and back of Ream were surprised. Some reacted with mild
apprehension while others danced nervously. A few horses spooked outright
and darted for a few yards. Gus tensed, a catch in his chest, as he glanced
toward Ream.
It was a tense moment
for Ream, but the confidence he had built with Biff paid off. Biff was
surprised and danced sideways three steps while Ream picked up the reins,
gaining contact. Biff stopped and Ream released the tension. Biffer stood,
calmly reassured.
"Gus, I finally figured
out why I am doing this."
"Oh?"
"Yes, it's not about
winning or losing, or proving something. It's about not being defeated.
It's about, when it's all over, who is left standing, not because they
won, but because they got up. You can't understand all of this, until
it's been taken away from you."
"Yup, only those
of us who've lost ourselves and then went to hell to get our souls back,
know how precious it really is. For me, I'd look death in the eye anytime,
rather than lose it again," said Gus.
"One other thing, Gus,
I don't think you have really completed life until you are prepared to
walk out of it standing up."
Ream heard Bob begin
his music with the bagpipes and Gus's voice was coming over the earset
loud and clear with abbreviated directions to begin the march.
The beginning moment
was too flooded with activity for any focused preparation. It was now a
matter of reflex and advance training.
It had begun.
In the first chords
Bob struck with the bagpipes, Ream felt he had entered a new dimension.
The air he breathed was fresher and purer than any he had ever experienced.
He had complete confidence, no hesitation, no unresolved fear. Inside he
was calm, riding a wave of distinctive pride in his accomplishment.
All the scattered pieces
of himself he had reclaimed were present and reassembled. He knew conclusively
he had become himself again. He was OK. As Gus had said, he had always
been OK, only parts of him got a little lost for a while. He smiled to
himself.
It was a regal sight
and experience for every onlooker witnessing this small three man segment
of the parade. Biff walked with his Arab tail high and swaying, as if he
was sculpted for a parade. He claimed each foot of ground as he walked
like a noble champion. Plain and simple, his spirit and presence were elegant,
reflecting his confidence in Ream.
Heads turned and silence
fell in ripples along the crowd as Bob, Ream and Gus passed. Several times,
spontaneous applause erupted from awe-struck spectators. Hidden even to
these many admirers was the delicate nature of the horse and rider relationship.
The parade proceeded
down Cortez toward the Court House Square where a reviewing stand for local
dignitaries had been erected. An announcer was introducing each participating
segment from a nearby podium. As the three men came into view, he said,
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, an extraordinary example of the American
cowboy spirit. Maurice Johnson, an unsighted cowboy rides his Arab horse
Biffer behind inspiring bagpipes played by Bob Howard. This blind rider
is being guided from behind by Gus Meeker who is directing him by radio
contact."
The crowd moaned in
praise.
Bob
sounded the music which marked their passage for review by local city officials
and guests. Onlookers were compelled to stand as the music
inspired them. At first slowly then building into a showering ovation,
they welcomed the threesome.
Sally was in those
stands and was thunder stuck as she recognized Maurice Johnson as the man
she had met at the Cowboy Poets' Gathering. Thoughts and feelings flew
to her from ten different directions at once. Within her heart, she was
totally disarmed.
The magnitude of his
bearing and courageous spirit registered within every tingling cell of
her body. Captured in the wonderment and awe of the moment, she remembered
how his arms had held her during their dance.
Her pevious concern
for the safety of a blind rider evaporated when she recognized the rider
and the cowboy guiding him. She knew if Gus were involved, the blind rider
was in good hands.
She too rose and applauded
softly with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. Inside, the deepest
part of her, soared with admiration.
It was a privileged
moment for everyone, including Bob and Gus. Sometimes, when you live your
life imprisoned in tiny limitations, you can break out and touch divinity.
This was one of those precious moments.