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Black Rose Writing
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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
ISBN-10: 1612964540
Type: Fiction
Pages: 220
Copyright: Dec. 11, 2014
ISBN-13: 9781612964546
Price: $2.95 (eBook)
A child of mysterious origin, adopted from infancy by Old Faithful geyser and a mother buffalo, grows up with the stories, teachings and wisdom of her elders and learns the meaning of giving back in return: in good times and in perilous.
In Yellowstone National Park, at the beginning of the twentieth century, a girl of mysterious origins is adopted from infancy by Old Faithful geyser, and by a mother buffalo named Bearer of Song. Beloved to all the park, Flower of the Steam Basin grows up with their stories, proverbial sayings and teachings.
In time, having met a child her own age and her parents, trust ripens between families, and Flower of the Steam Basin gains a closely protective circle of human friends. At nine years old, she is brought face-to-face with Retired Lieutenant Ned Halpen of the Yellowstone Cavalry, whose exemplary career embodied the role of protector of Yellowstone's spiritual and physical heritage.
In the wake of Lt. Halpen's passing one year later, her sacred vow to continue his legacy brings both reward and mortal danger. And when the circle is breached, Flower of the Steam Basin and her father are forced to choose between her own safety and well-being and the performance of her sworn duties.
This is her story, as seen through the eyes of Yellowstone.
Excerpt
“Faithful I have sought to be in all my ways
Since my conception in fire and in water.
“To be a fount of wisdom and purity of spirit
Far more prized than veins of gold and silver
And to this my soul has aspired.
“Not due to my own pursuits
That man named me the Faithful Elder.
A Higher Oath than mine has fixed
My pleasant boundaries
And the times of my bursting forth into the open
Not of my choosing.
“The countenances of multitudes I have beheld
And have seen them take delight in my greeting.
They throng close to my doorway
Men, women and children
Eager witnesses of my mystery.
“From every corner of the earth, bringing
The languages of ancient lands upon their lips
And their spices upon their garments.
“And what they find takes on a meaning of its own
Within each
Amidst the resplendent pillar.”
“Once, a man there was who, visiting me daily, stood solitary behind the crowd. A man who opened the doors of his thoughts to no one, he sought me out through a slit between the hardest of rocks compiled to block out the world around him.
“It is said, that he and his lone companion, an old horse named Butte, were the only two remaining after his ranch in Montana caught fire. His wife and two daughters, his other horses, his cattle and his home all left to dwell on a bigger ranch in the skies.
“He sold his land, saddled his horse and was seen riding in towns, on prairies and through the trees of the woods: riding and speaking not to man nor beast, save but a word or two to his horse. People would call him ghostlike, because, as soon as they caught sight of him, he would quickly vanish.
“The first time, he tied Butte to a nearby post and walked in with a slow and even gait. When came my emergence, a grimace of panic swept across his brow. He backed away and, mounting Butte, rode off into the forest.
“But compelled to return he was, and did so. And though he continued to leave, afraid, for quite some time, each day had become an exercise of great determination, as a lone soldier doing battle with an entire army of his fears.
“His unexpected arrival one morning before daybreak caused a few elk close by to observe his actions. A bear crossed the road several yards ahead, turned to look, then continued onwards. He rode Butte in closer than customary and approached me. He stared straight at me unflinchingly, waiting for me to erupt.
“For over an hour’s time, he did not move. From high above the pines, the moon illumined his figure in a soft white glow. A cool wind rippled through his garments, and the dew gently crowned his head.
“When erupt I did, he did not turn from me, and although stricken with fear, there was more the mastery. Having beheld his own reflection within my waters, his feelings, long-buried beneath the surface like steam, now at last were forced out into the open air.
“The man and his horse never returned, the purpose of his coming fulfilled, that day, in the lessons learned both by him and me. His coming taught me of the likeness between man and geyser: how never certain that what we hold inside, in the heat of our disposition, will remain buried indefinitely; nor ought it to be contained beyond its time.
“I taught him to let go.”
“A black bear gave birth to two male cubs; the firstborn: Faces the Wind, the younger: Dweller in the Boughs. Following his mother obediently, Dweller in the Boughs would be found. But Faces the Wind possessed an adventuresome spirit.
“While the cubs were yet small, their mother brought them to the edge of the forest and showed them the geysers. 'Neither fire nor steam will forbear to burn little bears who enter their realm uninvited,’ she admonished both.
"When I began to erupt, Dweller in the Boughs stopped to behold the first swelling of waters, and as I surged upwards, he ran to catch up with his mother. But Faces the Wind soon left her side and lumbered towards me. Standing on his hind legs, stretching his front paws skyward, he exclaimed: ‘I want to be as tall as you. Taller, still.’
“‘Child,’ I asked him, ‘Did you not heed your mother's warning?’
“His mother, bolting towards him with Dweller in the Boughs straining to keep pace, fell upon Faces the Wind and slapped him across the face with her mighty forepaw. ‘Not only have you disobeyed me. You have troubled the peace of our Faithful Elder. Leave him, respectfully.’ Stung and hurting, Faces the Wind sullenly turned to join his brother.
"The afternoon following, while the cubs were nestled by their mother, an idea came to Faces the Wind: so bright, he thought, so compelling. And when he was certain his mother and brother were asleep, he opened both eyes and stealthily headed for the deep woods.
“An Old Pine there was in the center of the forest, rising far above the others. Such outstretched branches, thought Faces the Wind. As though the pine were beckoning me to mount and ascend. ‘Old Pine,’ said he, ‘When I have scaled the height of your branches, there will be none taller than I.’
“But, as Faces the Wind began his climb, the Old Pine called out to him. ‘For what purpose would you leave the side of your mother and brother to make the climb?’
“‘But, Old Pine,’ he protested; ‘My mother and brother will be asleep, still, on my return.’ And when Faces the Wind reached the top of the Old Pine, he held on with one paw and waved triumphantly as though announcing a land victoriously claimed.
"After a short time had passed, he began to think it best to return to his mother and brother before that they would awake. He reached down with his hind leg to feel for a lower foothold, and finding none, shifted about and tried again. I knew that footholds were plenteous when first I discovered the Old Pine, he thought.
“He continued to shift this way and that. And find a foothold, he did, slippery and unable to maintain the weight of his frame. He looked down, all the way down to the ground, and terror seized him. If sleep overcame him, he would surely fall to his death. Faces the Wind sent out one bellow, and then another.
“‘Wind,’ called the Old Pine to a nearby gust. ‘There is an impetuous little bear who has outfitted himself with my crown, all at once to learn the price of his folly.’
“‘There is a cavalryman a pace away from hearing distance, Old Pine. Perhaps if I change direction, the sound of his cries will reach him.’
“When Faces the Wind was restored to his mother and brother, so remorseful was he, that he placed his cheek close to his mother’s paws, expecting a slap more forcible than the last. But his mother turned her paws away.
“When his father returned in the evening hours, his mother and brother greeted and hugged him with nary a mention. 'Have you not a word for your father, my son?’ he turned to Faces the Wind, who silently crouched nearby.
“Surely it is my father who will exact deserved justice of me, thought Faces the Wind.
“‘You are courageous to tell me the truth,’ his father said, after his son withheld not a detail. ‘But, why do you think I ought to punish you?’
“‘Because I listened to none of my elders. And the example of my younger brother, which has been before my eyes, I treated frivolously.’
“His father replied: ‘Tell me, then, what you feel ought to be expected of you.’
“The next morning, Faces the Wind approached me while, among the pines, his family quietly waited. Emptied of pride and prowess, on all fours was he where his father and mother had stood aforetime. ’I have acted foolishly, Faithful Elder. How easy it was to be crowned the tallest. But, just as the Old Pine spoke of, it was a crown I achieved but did not earn.’
“‘Child, ’ I replied. ‘I am beholding a tall bear indeed:
“‘A tree who is tall and forgets not his roots, the Old Pine is. For, he has learned that as essential to grow upwards, it is also necessary to retreat; this is called: the return home. In your roots are found your greatest support for the climb. The mountains beyond are testimony to this: observe them well, whose supporting foundations are far greater in size than their tallest peaks.
“‘When I ascend and become tall, it is at that moment when I remember most my basin whence I sprung forth. And returning each time into my abode, I find both retreat and growth.’
“Faces the Wind brought his parents and his younger brother to visit the Old Pine. ‘Old Pine, these are my roots.’
“‘Not here today to repeat your performance before your relatives, are you?’
“‘No, Sir,’ Faces the Wind shook his head. ‘I came back to return your crown to you, which I rashly coveted. It is you who are tallest.’
“When the family was home, Faces the Wind, as often he and his brother would do, measured his height against his father. Great joy overtook him. ‘Father!’ he exclaimed. ‘Father! I have grown almost half a paw since last time. I am nearly to your chest!’”
“Three seeds of a sego lily lay on the autumn ground in a lightly wooded section one hundred paces from the Northeastern Entrance. Two winds chasing playfully through the forest elevated the seeds, and they were strewn one from another.
One seed, the winds carried to the thick of the woods, where the ground was too moist and the sunlight too seldom for the seed to take root and grow. The second seed was carried beyond the first and left in the crevice of a rock.
“The third seed, the winds bore the opposite way, and it fell close to the roadside, where grew bluebells and woodland star. Came the rains, and the seed became immersed in a muddy bath, then buried beneath a small layer of dirt. More gentle rains watered the seed, before came a blanket of snow.
“Two springtimes passed without so much as a shoot breaking soil. When came the third spring, the stalk and leaves emerged. All the while, the sego lily continued to be nourished by the abundantly fertile soil and by the rains.
“A cavalryman passed along the road, the fourth spring, and having studied plant life, recognized the leaves of the sego lily and brought fertilizer in his pouch.
“The following year, the sego lily bloomed, and magnificent was its beauty. Favored by all around it, its white flower excelled and became very grand. Visitors entering the park by foot took pause to admire the bloom. The bluebells and woodland star, knowing not a selfish thought, told the sego lily it was more comely than they.
“At first, the lily’s thoughts were directed towards learning of its surroundings and its purpose. But not long after, its thoughts drifted towards its appearance. The sego lily grew more and more vain. It now considered the visits by the cavalryman and the spring rains, and the friendship of its kindly neighbors an intrusion. ‘What need have I? For, within myself are strength and vitality unparalleled. Let them come if they must, their distraction let me endure. I shall display myself in all my array in silence, and receive the praise due me.’
“Then, the rains ceased, and a drought parched the land. Illness overtook the cavalryman, and he was laid up in the fort. The soil, once soft and rich, became hardened. And the sego lily’s beauty began to fade.
“As it wilted a little more each day, the memories of its blessings of having good friends were all it could think of, now: how, in truth, it was they who had helped bring it to such the elevation as it had enjoyed.
“And as the cold air deepened and the snows began, the sego lily felt its strength and vitality ebb away, as the sleep of winter overtook it.
“The next spring, the rains returned. But the flower of the sego lily was less grand, not quite as perfectly white, neither had the stalk grown as tall as the year before. Nevertheless, the bluebells and the woodland star, ever kind, continued to tell the sego lily that it was beautiful. ‘Many thanks,’ it replied. ‘For your friendship I am forever grateful. You are far more beautiful than I.’
“The cavalryman returned with his fertilizer, and while seeing the change in the lily’s appearance, took nothing to heart, thankful instead for its survival.
“And the soil was restored to its richness, its spirits gladdened for being given a second chance to sustain the lily.”
“My daughter, Flower of the Steam Basin
Come, look at your father. Behold me well.
“Think you that I am but a comely leap of boiling waters
and steam?
My appearance so pleasant and desirous
To the eyes of multitudes to look upon
Made possible by a stroke of self-grandeur?
“Child, have you not seen manifest the works
of the fire from the deeps
Tended within the earth
That heats the stones below me which boil my waters?
And, when their fountain is ascended into the air and spent
Through the crevices in the rock formations
The waters of the rain and snow replenish me anew.
“Friends are they, who, along the course of my life
Have helped make possible my heightened state:
The God-given beauty I possess
Theirs to lend me.
Though not famed as I
Ever illustrious sit the crowns
Upon the heads of those who quietly give.
“My daughter, whether in life you ascend or descend
Awareness of your dependency on others remains a constant
As does the remembrance of your friends.”
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