Natures Way Sitting round a campfire can feel right nice after riding in the saddle all day.

Drawing in a shallow breath and letting it out in a long lingering sigh of exhaustion, Blanch scanned the handful of cow weary wranglers hunkered down for the evening. She knew the feeling of wanting nothing more than to eat, roll over, and go to sleep. Any talk to be done could wait till morning. They each had a four hour night watch ahead of them before daybreak and talking right now did not rightly figure on their minds. Im going to check the highlined horses. Blanche said as she stepped outside the campfires circle of warmth. Only a hat brim high-sign lifted in unison from the hunched over wranglers in acknowledgement. Jeremy, a new hand just hired-on, out of habit and common courtesy set his tin plate of stew and bread aside and stood up to follow. Here, let me give you a hand. He said as he stepped-in beside Blanche. No one in camp made a sound, hunkering a little lower over their dinner, turning their hat brims almost vertical, setting their minds even deeper into themselves. Only Brad, Blanches older brother and the other half of the VeraEarl Ranch, looked-up and furrowed his brow, holding Blanche and Jeremys departure in his sights not unlike how he watched the pack of coyotes stalking around last spring when the newborn calves were at their most vulnerable. Brad left the coyotes well enough alone figuring all Gods creatures have purpose even these varments. But by late afternoon when the herd was near tired, a lone coyote came within striking distance and Brad felt obligated to protect what was his. He spurred his mount into a full-out gallop pulling his rifle from his saddle scabbard, not even bothering to stop and step-down; he aimed his 30/06 with finite accuracy. One shoot, one dead coyote, one hellish accurate aim. Jeremy trailed behind Blanche as she checked the highline rope strung from tree to tree just over the horses heads. She really did not want company, did not want someone infiltrating

her space but started into talking anyway in an attempt to give a try at Dr. Jansens suggestion of initiating more social contacts. The VeraEarl Ranch owns ten thousand deeded acres with another three million leased acres of BLM land, all in the backyard, on the western slope, of the Steens Mountain. Blanche said, continuing to walk and talk without making eye contact, checking each highlined horse for soundness, untying the end horse, her horse, Mesteno, and letting him go. Wont he run away? Jeremy said. The Steens are pretty rugged country, no place to lose your horse. Mesteno wont leave me. Blanche said. Hes easy to catch; all I have to do is whistle. I imprinted him the moment after his mother dropped him. Hes not like the other ranch horses; we dont imprint them, there are too many so they stay half wild never quite accepting our human touch. Blanche said on unnerved at having someone so close too close. Do you know what imprinting is? Blanch asked, trying to put Jeremy off but too compliant to simply confront him and ask him to leave. But he didnt and she couldnt, so she prattled on. When it came time for the top ranch mare to foal, I got to be the one to imprint the newborn foal. I touched him first even before his mother, toweling him dry even before he stood on his own. In his newborn mind this imprinting made me dominate over him. Next I desensitized him by gently rubbing his face and muzzle, and stroking his ears. I named him, Mesteno. Its Spanish for wild horse. He looks every part a Kiger Mustang with his leg dorsal strips, slightly edged black tipped ears and black strip down the back of his dun body that these Spanish mustangs are famous for. He and I are bonded for life. I do know what you are talking about. Jeremy said. I may be new to the VeraEarl but I am an old hand at ranching. I grew up on the northern perimeter of the Steens, part of the Peter French ranch lineage from way back. The Steens were my only playground growing up.

You know then about the Steens notorious high sagebrush prairie? Blanch asked and answered without pause. A magnificent fault-block, uplifted over the ages by the internal pressure that pushed the western faultline rim up several thousand feet to become a craggy mountain cliff, a jagged chamfer cutting across the lower right hand corner of southern Oregon. Yes, I know that too. Jeremy said putting both hands in his back jean pockets, taking a deep breath puffing up his chest, and grinning. Blanch sighed, what effort it took to go on about the ranch, a ranch she no longer wanted to be a part of but it was her heritage, she couldnt help herself. My great-great grandmother, Vera, first homesteaded here with her husband, Earl Rafferty. Five generations of Raffertys have bred and managed cattle on these western steppes since the mid 1800s. My brother Brad and I are the last of our family, the last of our bred. Just he and I hold the genes to this land now. Tonight will be our last night out. Jeremy said interrupting. Im told this herd of eight hundred cow-calves should meet up tomorrow with the other half of the ranchs cow-calf operations, fifteen hundred head of cow-calf pairs in total. Jeremy liked rambling on with Blanche. It helped him occupy his mind, made him think he just might make it after all, even come to grips with being back in-county. Just then, a rifle shot reported at close range. Blanche flinched and turned to face the sharp sound. Jeremy ducked and hit the ground, scrambling for cover, and shouting out orders to phantom platoon soldiers. Sorry. Brad said, stepping out into the open with a sheepish grin on his face. Thought I saw another one of those pesky coyotes lurking around. That was close Brad. You could have let us know you were close at hand. Blanch said never making eye contact or raising her voice yet furious as hell with his latest stunt. She turned to go back to camp as two ranch hands came running up the trail to see what all the excitement

was about. Jeremy picked himself up off the ground, brushing dust from his jeans in an attempt to hide his shaking body. Nothing more was said; the two wranglers just shook their heads and turned back for camp and their more immediate need of settling down for the night. Next morning Jeremy started-in separating out the bulls whose summer breeding job was done. Blanch took note and made herself useful by helping him. When the bulls were all in one place, Jeremy did a head count and figured there were around sixty-two VeraEarl bulls along with the additional two-dozen leased bulls, all totaled this averaged out to one bull for every twenty cows covered every cow successfully bred. The bigger mature bulls, over the breeding season might cover as many as twenty-four cows each, while the younger bulls might only accomplish fifteen covers. The bulls were all registered breeding stock of Black Angus lineage, some weighing in at over two-thousand pounds. When rounded-up and moving in mass, moseying their way back home, they made an impressive sight. Kings, Brad said to Blanche as the two watched from atop a ridge overlooking the herd. VeraEarl royalty, every one of them: massive, muscled, bulked out and flat backed even after a season of breeding. Look at their regale stride, their tails easily swaying in unison with their no-longer engorged, hangin loose, majestical testicles. Brad said with a maniacal laugh. Jeremy riding up alongside overheard and said more seriously. Those two-dozen leased bulls, if they did their job, should produce you a mighty fine infusion of new breeding stock come next spring. I expect they will. Blanch said softly. She was quite aware of the importance of keeping the VeraEarl blood lines healthy and strong, not letting them slip into the inbreeding that allowed disease, weak bone structure and weak minds to flourish if left unchecked. Well, Im off. Brad said. I got to go mingle with my boys. Do a little of my own style of imprinting just like Blanche does those horses of hers.

Blanche winced. This is Brads dream. She said in apology to Jeremy as Brad rode off. He planned for this day over two years ago right after losing our folks. Its been a good diversion and good for the ranch too, helping him to ease the pain of his loss. It was your loss too. Jeremy said. He liked Blanche, didnt like her servient lifestyle though. Tell me about your folks, what happened? Blanche released a deep sign, leaning back in the saddle and crossing her hands on the saddle horn. Two winters back while spring skiing at Whistler, a faulty brake system and subsequent crashing of four chairs on a high-speed ski-lift killed our folks. Jeremy knew the ski resort, Canadas premier mecca for skiers just North of Vancouver BC. He had skied there himself. Turning in his saddle to face Blanche, Go on. he said. At the end of a fabulous day of spring skiing, my parents were downloading on the main high-speed chairlift to return to the lodge. A necessity that day as the bottom half of the ski-slope lacked sufficient snow for skiing all the way to the bottom. The metal grips that hold each chair in place failed on one chair sending it speeding down the cable line to collide into the next lower chair and so forth until four chairs came unhinged hurling my folks from several stories high to the ground. Blanche stopped talking and looked to be a long way away. Jeremy let her go. On their own, Brad and Blanche had done all right. Brad being of legal age took over the ranch operations fairly smoothly gaining a good reputation as a fine rancher and breeder of Black Angus cattle. For the first time he had full rein to inject new ideas, new ranch management ideas his father never allowed. Blanche rather then head off for Oregon State University felt obligated to not go, to stay behind and help. Brad pushed for this decision even though they easily had the finances. You dont have to stay, Brad said at the time. but the time spent at home without the worry of studying might be for the best. He ran the cattle operations while Blanche handled the breeding and supply of ranch horses. A real team now. He had told her.

Growing up they only had each other for playmates, running wild each with their own pony to ride and dog to take care of. Playing outdoors mostly, in and around the barn when they were let loose from the home-schooling their mother insisted upon. Baled hay stacked in the hay loft of the barn was excellent for building forts and playing hid and seek. Afternoons spent wrestling and giggling together, of being close breathing distance close. Jeremys voice brought Blanche back. What do you say we call it an afternoon and go sit in the shade for a spell and let this heat subside? It took great effort for Jeremy to open himself up, spend time with a real person, someone and something other than his inner demons. After returning from overseas and mustering out of the service he chose the remoteness of the VeraEarl and the wide open space it had to offer to hide out. He couldnt bring himself to go home and face his folks, not yet, not while still having nightmares and ducking for cover at every abrupt noise or losing control over the most inexplicable incidents. I cant right now. Blanche said stumbling over her words, stumbling over her feelings, over the anxiety at not wanting to go along with someone elses wishes a mans wishes no less and afraid to say no. I have things I need to do. Blanch said and hurried away. She liked the time spent with Jeremy when they had work to do, it her gave her feelings not unlike what she felt for Brad but different. She was old enough now to know the difference but still felt a sense of obligation to Brad. Looking skyward into the hot white canvas of the afternoon Blanche took a fordable breath, not a deep breath like Dr. Jenson told her to do but a breath adequate enough for the pause needed to force her to go against Jeremys wishes. Hold up a minute Jeremy said. Ill see you tomorrow. Blanche called over her shoulder already headed for the ranch barn only a few miles away now. She asked Mesteno for a canter only settling down to an easy walk when she knew to be out of Jeremys range. An easy end-of-day walk, a day-dreaming,

day-drifting, rocking in the saddle walk of thoughts. Thoughts turning to her plans, thoughts about what to do with her mustangs before she took her leave on Tuesday. Mesteno especially, he had never been without her. Mestenos lineage went back to the original Kiger Mustang herds. During the depression era in the 1930s many ranches went broke and simply walked away from their homes turning ranch animals lose to fend for themselves. Fine draft horses and riding horses of all breeds were let go to run wild over the grasslands of eastern Oregon. In the early 1970s the BLM was given federal funding to begin managing these herds and in amongst them were the Kiger Mustangs, the original Spanish mustang. In order to keep the herds at a manageable levels, horse adoptions were started. With the roundup of these horses into pens, a special freeze style brand of numbers were made on each horse. The VeraEarl mustangs had always run free on open range land, long before the BLM program and did not have such brands. DNA testing proved the ranch herd to be pure and Blanche made sure they stayed that way with selective breeding. Mostly using Mesteno but also introducing the Kiger Mustang line from the BLM program just like Brad introduced new lines from his leased bulls. Blanche liked to think it was the mustangs that had kept her on the ranch. One of her mares selling for nineteen thousand dollars because of the lineage records she had compiled authenticating the mares special breeding of Kiger Mustang bloodlines. The horses needed her. They needed her presence to stay pure. Most still ran free and breed openly. The rest were used as ranch horses, breeding a very precise and deliberate process for just the right characteristics that make a good working stock animal: big sound bones, steady temperament, a kind-eye built to take the ruggedness of the work they were asked to do. Brad, on the other side of the valley, saw Blanche ride off and spurred his own horse into action riding for the barn too. He needed a fresh mount and supplies to head out again with several other men to go looking for strays. He didnt like the idea that any of his girls, as he

called the ranch cows, missed in the roundup might be left behind, alone and herd-unprotected. He most likely would have to be gone another two days. ` Back at the barn Brad could feel his sister pulling away and wanted the old sense of

contact with her. Blanch you work the ranch just as hard as the men but you have a feminine side that comes through loud and clear. He said hoping to get Blanche to open up and talk to him. I see the look you have for the wild mustangs freedom. Blanch stopped in her tracks, a sorrowful pain came over her at the site of a litter of new born kittens strewn across the hay covered floor of the barn, all dead, half the litter decimated. The ranch cats were not pets. A few of the females allowed Blanche to pet them when she gave them milk but on the whole they were quite feral and only the females survived. Two big toms came and went with the seasons, just long enough to mate with the females or to kill the new born male kittens male kittens being a threat to their territory. The two males kept a wide breath between them but killing the male kittens also assured that no inbreeding happened. Natures way of keeping a strong and viable cat population. A ranch population of cats was much needed for keeping the rodent infestation at bay. What cats the toms didnt get the coyotes did so a fresh batch of kittens was always needed no matter how many were guaranteed to die. Horses and cats and dogs, theyre all vital to the ranch maintaining its balance but what about my balance? What about me? The horses are my only outlet, my balance. Blanche said in a rush of words and tears. Brad caught Blanche by the arm and turned her round. Just because a major portion of the VeraEarl cattle operations use BLM managed land and we have to share the government grasslands with those wild horses doesnt mean I have to like it. There had been much controversy between ranchers and the general public on whether or not to let the famous Oregon wild horse herds continue to roam free. Brad being on the side of

the rancher and wanting the horses gone. Blanche as she grew older made her feelings known and the argument heard out loud and the rift between brother and sister heated up. We owe it to these horses to let them run free. They are the foundation stock to every one of our ranch mustangs. Blanche said every time the subject came up out on the trail within earshot of the wranglers. Brad jacked his jaw but kept a cool demeanor. Blanche knew there would be hell to pay when they returned to the lodge out of earshot of the hired hands. Tomorrow Blanche thought, twisting out of Brads hands. When Jeremy returned she would have him pull Mestenos shoes and then she would do the deed. She really would do it this time and did not want to worry that someone might not treat Mesteno the way she did after she was gone. She wanted to turn him back out on the Steens high plateau to run free and without her for the first time in his life with all the other VeraEarl wild mustangs. Two days later when Brad returned with his small herd of strays he immediately went looking for Blanch. It gets lonely out there when youre all by yourself. Come up to the lodge and fill me in on whats been happening. He said to Blanch when he met up with her and Jeremy in the barn pulling Mestenos shoes. Brad kept his eyes on Blanche barely acknowledging Jeremy only saying to him. Lets get together first thing in the morning. I want to hear about how the leased bulls are getting along and where we are with sending them home. This business formality out of the way, Brad handed his mustangs reins over to Jeremy while at the same time draping his free arm around Blanches shoulders pulling her to him in a one-arm huge and walking her out the barn door. Blanche knew what was coming. Brad would be all over her, talking nice, stroking her sense of brother sister relationship, getting her to relent and give in to his wishes. Not this time she said to herself. She had plans and tomorrow being Tuesday this time she would succeed. She would carry thru with her plan.

Jeremy jacked-his-jaw and knew he could only look on. It wasnt his place to interfere in what really was none of his business. But it was his business. He of all people understood the unspoken pressures, the invisible demons. The more time he spent working alongside Blanche and those few times they were alone had developed into real feelings for her. The ranch lodge was off limits to anyone associated with the ranch operations, off limits to the world actually. Brad kept an office in the horse barn just off the tack room. If he was needed in person he was just a phone call away and would meet in the barn office which was rare as most days, seven days a weeks, year round you could find him outdoors in the saddle near the holding corrals, or out on the range. Jeremy made the mistake when he first came to the VeraEarl of approaching the ranch house. Built in the late 1800s its hand hewed logs, none smaller than twenty inch diameter, gave off a sense of massive size, more like the lodge everyone referred it to. A wrap around porch of Douglas Fir sat astride imported Columbia basin river rock. Designed to house more than one generation of Raffertys, it showcased a left wing and a right wing. It was everyone guess if the brother and sister duo used both wings. Jeremy knew. He sat up late many a night since his arrival leaning on a corral rail, fending a last smoke of the day to his fellow wranglers while watching the comings and goings of lights being turned off and on, throwing shaded shadows sometimes against their backlight. Jeremy figured he knew the story, even more so as he got to know Blanche. He also figured it was a matter of circumstances not family love that drove Blanche. Over dinner Brad questioned Blanche about the last couple of day reaching out his hand to her. The house feels different. What have you been up to? I see things moved, rearranged. Papers missing Brad said.

Nothing much, just cleaning up and cleaning out stuff. Blanche said looking down at her plate not making eye contact. Blanche did have plans; she wanted to continue disposing of papers, journals mostly. Also there were closets to empty of old, no longer used cloths, and her drawers needed straightening. She wanted to make sure everything was in order before she did what she knew she needed to do wanted to do. She could no longer live this life. The office most particularly: the filing cabinets, the computer files, her desk papers, lots of sorting and organizing needed so anyone could find just what they would be looking for. But most importantly she wanted to leave a good impression of herself. When she was finally gone she wanted to make it easy for everyone to carry on. The next morning as the sun crested the Steens, Blanch pulled the belly cinch of her western saddle tight leaving the last six inches of latigo hanging free of the saddle-tree. In a matter of a couple strides the now tight cinch would become lose around Mestenos belly. His habit of sucking in air to bloat his belly and holding his breath until he thought Blanch no longer paid attention never worked but force of habit prevailed. Blanch walked Mesteno out a few paces, heard the sigh of relief and release of air she knew he could hold no longer. Turning back to him she tightened his now loose belly cinch. They knew each other all too well but that didnt stop Mesteno from trying. Old habits are hard to die. Riding Mesteno out to the far range where her wild horses were known to graze took most of the morning. Just over the last rise within walking distance of county highway 206 is where Blanche spotted her herd of wild mustangs. She stepped down, removed Mestenos saddle and bridle turning him free. He ran off leaving her alone to cry for all their shared times together, for all the freedom she wanted too.

Jeremy rode up behind Brad who was watching from an adjacent ridge. Let her go. Jeremy said. Shell be back one day when shes ready. Shell come back for the horses, when shes strong when shes complete. Brad sat his horse not saying a word. He stared hard, breathing a slow and steady burn. Then without warning he spurred his horse forward. Jeremy was ready, spurring his horse hard he jumped in front of him. Shes gone. Jeremy said. Someday she will come back for the horses. She will never come back for you. You dont know that. Brad said. Get the hell out of my way. I do know. Jeremy said. Ive done my own share of running and I wont let you stop her now. She comes too far. I wont let you interfere. These words would get him fired; he was sure of that and he was ready to do more if it came down to it. Jeremy figured if Blanche could run away and make it back home again someday maybe he could too.

Blanche walked the mile to the county highway, lugging Mestenos gear, the only personal belongings from the ranch she would take with her. Not her cloths, not her journals, none of her old sensibilities, she left them all behind, running with a heavy load, needing a lightness of being to keep going and run away free.