Miles is on his way to Silverton to check on the communities in the area as Sheriff Gold remained in Durango caring for his wife. Miles enjoyed riding Hawk and traveling in the fresh air of the high country. But, when evening came, he had an unusual experience. Let’s go join Miles back in the days of yore along the trail.
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I kept my eyes closed when I woke up the next morning. I laid still, listening. There was a Camp Robber Jay nearby up in a spruce, and I could hear the stream cascading over the rocks not far away. Other than that everything was quiet so I opened my eyes, filling my hand first with my pistol. My head was against my saddle and the blanket from my bedroll was over me.
Leaning forward, I looked around. I picked up the blanket, then looked some more. Sitting on a rock where I had built a small fire was a cup. Standing to my feet, I glanced over at Hawk. He was munching on some tender sprouts that were up in the early spring. I turned my gaze up toward the hills on either side of the road. What had happened?
Holstering my gun, I went over to get a fire started for morning coffee and a bite of breakfast. Seeing that there were still a few live coals left I added some kindling, and began to fan it with my hat. I had to smile as I wondered how many fires had I fanned to flame with this old hat over the years. It didn’t take long to get a small blaze, so I placed some more kindling on the flame then added a few larger pieces from a broken branch.
I put some bacon in a small skillet, and took out a day-old biscuit from the diner. Soon, I had the coffee boiling and bacon fried and was ready for a quick breakfast while still pondering the events or dream from last night. My plan was to make it to Molas Pass, which was a little over twenty miles away. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem unless there was an obstacle along the way.
The air was cool enough for me to put on my heavier jacket and turn up the collar. At least it was clear with no sign of rain or snow, but up here in the high country that could change in a matter of minutes. Hawk was satisfied to plod along, not even showing a desire to trot. It made me think that Hawk wasn’t used to the high altitude any more, plus the fact he was getting older. That made me pause in my thinking…that meant I was getting older as well.
All along the road there were rivulets of water coming down from the higher elevations. The road wasn’t wet, but along the edges it was. Hawk took his time walking pretty much down the middle of the road. There were a few times when we had to give way to wagons coming from the opposite direction, but we didn’t have to stop. The drivers always waved, and I gave them a salute back. I can remember when this road was crowded with wagons going and coming, but the railroad put an end to the heavy traffic. Oh, there were still plenty of wagons and pack mules, but not like it was before the trains came.
I stopped a couple of times in the morning for Hawk to drink from a stream, and to give him a breather. At noon, I pulled off to a little pond, made a fire for coffee and ate the last ham sandwich that Molly had packed. I drank deeply from the cold stream water that flowed into the pond, then went to work on the ham sandwich while waiting for the coffee to boil. It wouldn’t take long, I used only enough for one cup of coffee.
We easily made it to the summit of Molas Pass where the sun was shining brightly. I wanted to camp a little ways down, that way I could be in Silverton the next morning. Moving down off the pass we passed into shadows, and the temperature dropped. It seemed that the sun was going down rapidly, being away from the setting sun. The whole canyon was in the shade. I looked for a place where there was a spring runoff for fresh water to camp. In a few minutes I was reining Hawk into a grove of aspens, mixed with a few evergreens. I took care of Hawk, then went about camp business.
That night after finishing my supper, I leaned back against my saddle when I heard a noise. It was very faint and I was sure it was footsteps. I jumped when I heard the voice. “Slowing down, Miles,” came a soothing voice. “But that’s to be expected at your age,” which was followed by a little chuckle.
I didn’t see anyone, but I could hear the voice, and felt a presence in the camp. “I won’t bother with your coffee, I had some last night and I don’t reckon it’s any better tonight.”
Then He appeared, haunched down across the fire. “Fire’s dying down; there’ll be a need to stir the embers to get a flame.” I leaned forward picking up a stick stirring up the embers and adding some larger pieces of wood to it.
“Life’s sort of the same way. We get used to going along, then sometimes dissatisfied with the direction of our lives and we forget the gifts that I have given. Remember, all this was started with a small flame in an upper room back in Jerusalem. The fire will continue, but you have the duty to stir yours up.”
I could see Him stand and start to move away into the aspens. Wait!” I hollered.
He turned, and I thought I saw a smile. “When you get to Silverton, I’ll do some stirring for you. I want to see your flame burning brightly again.”
I hit the side of my head a couple of times. I knew I wasn’t seeing things, but it had been many years since I had been visited that way. The first thing that came to my mind was when the Lord visited Abraham. That was the last thing until…