The horses were back.
He could hear their hooves thundering through the countryside nearby.
Seated in the shade of his porch, old Harley lifted his head and watched in rising amazement as the band of mustangs galloped toward him, manes and tails flowing. Pintos, blacks, and chestnuts led by a dappled gray stallion.
There had been a time when those same horses followed Harley everywhere – not that he could see them with his eyes open, but in his boyish mind they had come at his command, bunching around and nuzzling him as he stroked their glossy coats. Sometimes he had hopped aboard one of them, bareback, and run off to a mystical land that existed only in his imagination.
As the seasons piled up and he grew taller, those rides became less frequent. He was always being told by his elders to “face reality.” Eventually, Harley had no choice but to try it their way. He buckled down and got though twelve long years of book learning, most of which he shrugged off like an old coat on a muggy day. All the stuff needful for real living, a person could acquire by sixth grade. Maybe even fourth grade, if you eliminated fractions.
As it turned out, Harley made good use of those fractions. After graduating from high school, he wandered into the carpentry trade where precise measurements were important. Well, actually, he became more of a handyman, but he got by. He made enough money to buy a cottage – this same little house on the rural outskirts of town. In his free time, he went fishing or carved on stubs of wood. Horses, always horses. Standing, grazing, cantering. Once in a while during his younger days, a girl would catch his eye, and he might overcome his shyness long enough to ask her out. Only one ever said “yes”, but as it turned out, she was not a girl he would want to spend his life with, so there was no second date. That was alright with him. He didn’t mind living alone, and Sunday church gave him more than enough socializing. Before long, his fireplace mantel was heavily populated with miniature wooden horses. They became his children, the carvings and his dogs, a whole series of dogs that he outlived one by one. They had ordinary names like Scamp and Rover and Spot, but they were not ordinary to him. He grieved for each and every dog, and when the last one passed a few months ago, he didn’t replace it out of concern for its welfare when he left this world. His time was getting mighty limited.
He had been nearly seventy, and doing a piece of work for a widow lady, when he lost his balance and fell off her roof. That was some years ago, and ever since, just getting up and walking a few steps was a painful challenge demanding the help of a cane. Though it was not her fault, Rose felt some responsibility. She paid the imagined debt in baked goods – once a week, never fail, she hand-delivered an apple pie, or berry, or pumpkin. Sometimes it was lemon meringue or chocolate cream when the weather was warm, like today.
He had been sitting here, enjoying the afternoon scent of jasmine that rambled over his porch rail. Wondering what sort of pie Rose would bring today. White, puffy clouds chased across the deep blue sky. In the distance, Harley heard the breeze rustling through the big cottonwoods out by the road, and the lonely whistle of the 4:00 pm freight train approaching the town. He had always loved the sound of a train passing by. How strangely far it all seemed, farther than ever before.
And now those sounds faded completely as Harley gazed at the horses crowding near, stretching their necks toward him. With eyes wide open, he saw their noble heads and beautifully colored coats. Reaching out one gnarled hand, he patted and stroked them, speaking gentle words of recognition and greeting. He scarcely noticed his pain slipping away, his lean, age-ravaged body growing stronger. Then suddenly he was out of his chair, the old cane forgotten, unneeded.
The dappled gray stallion, always his favorite, nickered a warm welcome. Rushing forward, Harley sprang onto his back. High above, a cloud parted, releasing a brilliant shaft of sunlight that seemed to reach deep inside him. It brought with it a joyous beckoning that left no doubt.
Yes, now he understood.
Under him, the stallion gracefully wheeled, and together they galloped into the heavens.