Angel?

         The pain was going away now, but that gave no cause for elation in Monica. The frigid cold was releasing her from her agony since the corner of the feed shed fell on her. Legs trapped under what seemed to be tons of wood and snow, she could only accept the inevitable end to her adventure.

         Her horse was yards away, grazing peacefully on tufts of exposed prairie grass, oblivious to her condition. She laughed inwardly, thinking back to the time when her grandmother had first become injured, taking care of the small ranch that she maintained after grandpa died. A call from her mother for help, and Monica had taken a short hiatus from her college workload to give her grandmother a hand until she could get back on her feet.

         ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ she thought. The snowstorm last night had dropped a tremendous amount of snow on the ground, and there were just brief clearings here and there across the vast expanse created by the fierce gusts of wind that still roared about her sporadically. She’d used those clearings to make her way out to the remote feed shed to ensure that the cattle that had become isolated due to the storm had shelter and feed to survive until more help could arrive.

         Grammy had tried to dissuade her from going out, but the storm for the most part was over, and just the snow remaining on the ground and the icy winds were the only elements that challenged her. Her concern now was about the livestock, and the associated livelihood of her grandmother.

         Aside from the one wall still erect from the shed, she had an unobstructed view of the prairie around her, and the only life visible was the brief speck of a steer, struggling through the drifts. She was now numb from the waist down, and fleeting thoughts began to flicker through her mind, reminiscent of her life, passing across her consciousness. ‘So this is how it works?’ she thought.

         She thought of God for the first time in her life, and wondered about the hereafter. ‘Too late now to repent and become a religious zealot,’ she mused. Maybe she should have paid more attention to Grammy’s biblical stories when she was just a little girl, just maybe… The chill was beginning to creep up her body, but her mind sought out closure to her life. ‘Grammy, I surely love you…’ she thought, ‘and Momma, I’m so sorry…’

         A crunch on the snow nearby brought her out of her musings, and she was startled to see a tall man, a cowboy standing near her head. Ugly, she thought, really ugly; but the most welcome sight that she’d seen in the past several hours. ‘Ow’dy’, he drawled. ‘Need some ‘elp?’ The smile on his face decried any homeliness his appearance might have had on her. Her first response was reflexive, and she regretted it as soon as it left her mouth. “Well, duh… Ya think?”

         Instead of being insulted, the cowpoke simply chuckled and said, “That were a pretty stupid question, right enough. Here, lemme see what ah can do.” As he said that, he bent down and began to assess her situation. The heavy snow had weakened the roof of the feed shed to the extent that when she’d approached it to check on the feed content, it collapsed on her. She watched apprehensively as he pressed his hands on her thighs, but her apprehension lessoned as she felt heat begin to seep into her muscles, and the feeling return to her legs.

         His gnarled face grinned at her, and he began to lift the heavy wooden structure from her legs, and without any apparent effort he flipped the entire structure back away from her. Then, stooping once more, he gently massaged her legs and feet, and she felt the healing blush of heat flow throughout her body. ‘This can’t be real,’ she thought. ‘Near death hallucination, it’s got to be…’

         Once again, she heard his chuckle, and it was a soothing sound over the howl of the wind. “Ah think ya’ll be right fine, now.” He said. Standing up alongside her, he reached down and helped her to her feet. He was tall, she thought, well over six feet, and was every bit the image of what she expected a cowpoke would be. He was ugly, but his smile was dazzling, and radiated a friendliness that caused her to relax entirely in his presence.

         Monica stretched her legs, and examined her lower torso carefully, but could find nothing even remotely damaged from the accident. Amazed, she looked back up at the cowboy, and found him smiling at her in amusement. Her horse had given up its search for forage and had approached the couple, nuzzling the cowboy under his armpit. His quick laugh brought her back to the present, and she watched as he rubbed the horse alongside its jaw. The horse seemed to respond unusually well to his touch, and she marveled at the familiar way he had with the beast. She loved this animal, but it had never demonstrated the comfort with her that he showed with him.

         “I didn’t see you come up, sir—how did you know I was in trouble?” she asked. “Sir?” he replied. “Ya know me Monica; ye’ve always known me. Carolyn and I been in touch for years now, and we angels have to take care of one another.” She stood there for a few moments, examining the look of amusement on his face. Finally, some pieces of a puzzle seemed to fall into place, although she still thought that she was experiencing a ‘near death’ episode.

         Carolyn was her grandmother’s name, and she’d always been a good, God-fearing woman. Her culture was considered quaint, by today’s standards, but an excellent moral example for her progeny and their own. Old-fashioned, she thought, but a good woman, hard working and kind; the kind of person that would warrant an assist from her granddaughter during a time of trouble.

         ‘We angels?’ she thought. ‘What angels?’ As if to answer her thoughts, the cowboy began, “I was called to your side, girl. Carolyn called me to look after you.” Tapping her on the shoulder, he repeated, “We angels have to take care of each other…” His look made her a bit uneasy; intense, looking deeply into her own eyes. The smile was still there. “Ah got work to do, my dear; and so do you… Say ‘hi’ to Carolyn for me.”

         On that comment, her horse stepped between them, and began to nuzzle her face, anxious to be on their way back to the comfort of the homestead, food and warmth. Monica in turn, savored the warmth and strength of the pony, and rubbed her hands over his face and neck. Glancing up, she was surprised to note that the cowboy had disappeared—completely. No trace, no sign of his presence was visible on the now snow powdered ground. The wind was whistling past the wooden remnants of the feed shed, and the wreckage of the fallen wall lay before her. Aside from the wind, there was no sound, but the horse continued to pull her away from the exposed beams.

         Feeling the chill slipping into her body once more, she quickly mounted the horse and allowed it to race back to the ranch, but her mind was racing as well. Did she imagine the encounter with the weathered old cowboy, or did he actually save her life? She didn’t really believe in miracles, or in spirits, or any of that mumbo-jumbo stuff, so she began to embrace the concept of hallucination, due to exposure. All that she was sure of now, was that she was alive, and likely to make it back to the ranch safely.

         It was a long ride and the sun was beginning to sink in the west as she galloped into the courtyard. Her grandmother was on the porch, waiting for them, and had a steaming cup of mulled punch to present her, and wide smile on her face. Monica decided not to tell her of her narrow escape with death, nor of her encounter with the grizzled old cowboy, not wanting to cause her any concern. A long careful pull on the heated punch, and she turned to put up her horse back in the barn. As she brushed the fatigue out of the horses back, she recalled events of the day, and wondered how much she’d imagined, and how much was reality.

         Back in the house, she silently ate dinner across from her grandmother, her mind still full of the day’s events. Finally, her grandmother broke the silence with a curious remark. “He said that you were a perfect bit of carin’, Monica.” Shaking her head for a moment to try to understand, Monica finally replied, “Who are we talking about, Grammy?”

         “Why, ol’ Jed of course, my dear. He told me that you’d come into a little trouble out on the prairie, while you’d been trying to see to the welfare of the snowbound cattle out there. I’d asked him to watch out for you if he’d a mind to…” Still smiling at her, she continued. “ol’ Jed came to me just after your grandpa died, and told me to call on him whenever I was frettin’ about one thing or another. He’s been a good friend over these past few years. Why, he even told me that you were coming to help me out, long before your mother did.”

         Monica considered that, and decided that it had to be her grandmother’s delusion, and the hallucination on the prairie was just that, a hallucination. Although many things seemed to add up, she was not going to fall into that trap of imaginary friends and ghost figures. The next few days would be a true test of her resolve, and she was determined to ride out the visit until her grandmother’s recovery.

         Nothing was said about the incident for the remainder of her visit with her grandmother, and Monica managed to get everything in order and up to snuff by the time that the old lady was ready to take over. Making one more pass through the ranch to make sure that she’d not missed anything, Monica stepped into the barn to say a final farewell to the horse she’d come to love. As she hugged the horse’s neck, and whispered soothing words into its ear, she heard a familiar footstep behind her.

         Hair prickling up her neck, she slowly turned, and stepped back into her hallucination. It was the old cowpoke, gnarled and weathered, leaning against the side of the stall, curiously observing her with the horse. “I’m real,” he said. “It twern’t your imagination, girl. We are a bit of a set, we are.” Then, smiling broadly, he explained. “Yer a softer side o’ me, my dear. Angels ain’t always born or created; we kin just appear in times of need.” Again, she heard that same friendly chuckle that had set her mind at ease on the prairie.

         “Jedidiah, Beloved of God, and Monica, the Advisor; we’re a pair ain’t we?” he said. “We won’t meet again for a long time, m’dear, but if you ever need me, just call. But, be assured, we will meet.” Smiling once more, he began to fade in front of her. The last thing she heard as his form faded from view was, “Ah ain’t the ugliest angel by far m’dear; ya actually got lucky with me…” The phantom laughter died out with his image, and soon she was alone again with the horse.

         ‘Okay Jed,’ she thought, ‘you made your point, just take care of Grammy for me until then.’ Returning to her grandmother she said, “Jed asked me to say ‘Hi’ to you.” The old woman nodded, hugged Monica and finally, sent her on her way.

-1998-