Eastern Montana’s McCone County settles in for another anxious night. Possible dry thunderstorms with lightning threaten to ignite the prairie’s parched grass.
Once again playing lookout for any possible lightning-caused wildfires, Randy sits perched on top of the highest hill on his ranch. Watching from his pickup truck with a full 500-gallon water tank resting in the back, he’s on patrol until dawn on this stormy night.
Around midnight, the storm seems to be moving to the south and east, and Randy’s eyes leave the prairie for a quick moment. An opening in the dark clouds allows him to view the midnight’s constellation, which brings a welcome break in his concentration. He still has several hours to go until the early morning light will signal the end of his nightly chore.
Sitting alone, Randy’s thoughts speak to the Lord in the heaven’s cosmos. Opening up to his Father in prayer, he offers praise and thanks for the quiet night. He also prays for his neighbors and their continued faith and perseverance.
Suddenly realizing the time, Randy brings his eyes back to the darkened landscape. To the east, the beginning of a new day is peeking just over the horizon. Rubbing his eyes, he looks forward to a short morning nap when he arrives back at the family home.
For the first time in many nights, he feels a different kind of peace covering the land. The latest forecast for the coming night calls for a bit of rain with cooler temperatures and little wind. Amen!
This short story was written in August, 2019. The storyline is loosely based on the personal experience my brothers and I gained from a childhood trip to Yellowstone National Park back in the 1960s.
The three brothers are excited about the family’s vacation to a faraway national forest. Being an adventurous trio, they always seem to be finding themselves in trouble, and this vacation trip may just punch their ticket once again.
The family makes a stop on their first day out. There is a gorgeous canyon with an incredible waterfall. All of this waits for the family, nestled and hidden in the tall pines of the dense forest.
While Mom and Dad are gazing at the spectacular scene and taking photographs with their new high-end digital camera, the brothers three take an excursion to discover more about the waterfall. The sound of the cascading water can be heard for miles.
Gene is the youngest brother, and the biggest risk-taker. Nothing ever seems to frighten him. He leads the way through the thick pines as the boys find themselves closer and closer to the roar of the falls.
The oldest brother, Pete, follows close behind. He tries to be alert because Gene usually marches straight into harm’s way. Trailing behind, follows the middle brother, Craig. Barely noticed by the boys, the terrain begins to slope more and more, downward towards the dangerous canyon.
The pace of the brothers walk quickens, and their excitement grows with each step. Gene shouts over the noisy falls, “Let’s see how close we can get to the water.”
Little does he know how prophetic his words may soon become.
Craig’s steps even more tentatively through the challenging terrain and the pines. He notices the steep drop through the trees to the rushing and roaring river below.Pete calls out, “Keep your eyes looking up.”
Oops . . . too late!
Chapter 2
And the story continues . . . more trouble awaits the threesome of adventure-seeking brothers.
The charging water from the falls nearly drowns out Pete’s warning. The trio of boys has ventured far past the safety zone.
Craig stares straight down at the bottom of the deep canyon. His eyes fill with frightened trauma. The angry river below, with the deafening sound of the falls, is too much to bear.
He grows more and more terrified, and his eyes are locked on to the danger below. With his eyes no longer watching his step, Craig feels his feet sliding on the steep ground, surrounded by prickly pine branches. He doesn’t see a protruding tree branch.
Colliding with the stiff branch, Craig’s body spins around as he is knocked to the ground. No longer on his feet, his body propels down the slippery slope like a missile. Closing his eyes, his hands miraculously grab hold of a stout pine branch above his head.
Craig lets out a scream, “Help! Help me!”
Pete and Gene can’t believe what has just transpired. Somehow, they have managed to stay on their feet. As Craig tumbles towards the canyon’s rim, he narrowly misses taking both of them with him.
Hearing Craig’s continued screams for help, the brothers need to come up with a rescue plan . . . immediately! They are too far from Mom and Dad for any help to arrive from them. They need to deal with the situation on their own.
Cautiously, the two boys slowly move down towards their brother. One misstep and one of them (or both) could be taking a plunge. The prospects of all three brothers making it out of this jam in one piece grow dimmer by the minute.
Gene steps gingerly, closer and closer, to reach his stricken brother. He sees Craig’s grip growing weaker as the pine branch appears to be breaking loose. Pete follows close behind, ready to help Gene rescue their brother.
The two boys stop just inches away from Craig’s hand, which has a death grip on the weakening branch. Pete anchors himself to a larger pine branch with one hand. His other hand reaches out to Gene.
The boys attempt to create a human chain to bring Craig back to a safer place. Suddenly, Pete’s hand slips away from the pine branch, and he tumbles into Gene. Both boys nearly join the river below, but Gene finds another branch to grab as well as more solid footing.
Pete’s hand replaces Gene’s hand on the branch as his other hand connects with Gene’s hand. The boys know this might be their final attempt to save all of them from the pickle they are in.
Craig continues to shout for the boys to save him. His impatience only makes the situation even more precarious.
Gene and Pete anchor their feet on the firmest ground they can find. Their feet dig in for balance and stability. With their human chain stronger than before, Gene reaches towards Craig’s hand.
The three brothers have reached a final destination, without any more chances. Gene calls to Craig, “You need to be ready to release your hand from the branch as I grab your hand.”
Craig nods in silence. He is much too petrified to say anything.
The rescue line is ready to make one final attempt. The wild river waits below as well. The next few seconds will decide everyone’s fate.
Gene reaches for Craig’s hand while Pete provides the anchor to hold all of them up. In an instant, Craig feels his brother’s hand and grabs hold. Together, Gene and Pete carefully pull Craig up the slope . . . one step, then two, finally three.
At last, the brothers are united again. They slowly and cautiously crawl and walk back up from the treacherous canyon rim.
In a few minutes, they emerge from the pine trees. Their arms and legs bear several scratches, abrasions, and bleeding from the spiny tree branches and the hard ground. Their dirty faces are topped with matted down hair full of pine needles. This disheveled threesome of thrill-seeking comrades is finally safe.
Mom and Dad turn around. They have been oblivious to everything until now. They both say in unison, “Were you boys playing again?”
Traveling back to Montana, Phil and Phyllis arrive from back East. They’ve brought their teenage grandson along to fish the Gallatin River.
Staying at the Rainbow Ranch, they plan to fly fish right along the river, which runs adjacent to the property. The Ranch employs a fishing guide during the summer months. Bert knows all of the best spots to fish on the Gallatin, and he is always bragging about his fishing prowess. As he always reminds people, “experience counts.”
Complaining under his breath, Bert takes the trio of fishing pilgrims to the river. He always frowns upon city folks who come out to the Gallatin to fish. Mumbling under his breath, “All novices . . . they have no clue about fishing a river.”
Bert sets up Phil and his grandson, and they begin making tentative casts on to the river. Each has fished very little, and their inexperience offers a bit of amusement for Bert.
Meanwhile, Phyllis moves down the river a few paces from Bert. She shouts out to Bert, “I wonder who will catch the first fish?”
Bert replies, “A piece of ‘rainbow trout’ cake my dear!”
Bert begins to cast several times with little luck, not even a bite. He glances down the river bank at Phyllis, and reminds himself he has plenty of time to catch the “first” fish.
Phyllis spies a perfect hole in front of two rocks. She casts her first line perfectly into her chosen spot. Hmm, Bert didn’t even see her awesome cast because he is too busy with his own fishing.
Strike!
Phyllis’ line goes taut. She has a “granddaddy” rainbow trout hooked on her line.
Bert looks over at her with dismay. Phyllis laughs and continues reeling in her prize catch. Calling over to Bert, she shouts, “Experience counts, you know.”
As she lands a hefty, beautiful rainbow trout in the tall grass along the river bank, she tells Bert more of her story, “I fished these same waters years ago as a little girl. My daddy taught me well. I practically grew up on this river.”
Bert realizes he has been had. If he does catch a trout today, it will likely taste more like crow.
Searching the local bookstore for one of the all-time classics to read, I find myself wandering the nearly infinite rows of bookcases, overflowing with books of every kind. I am not looking for just any book, mind you. My reading appetite hungers for something rich in prose, but the book needs to fit my personal definition of a classic.
As I walk around, my eyes notice many classics of American literature. I flip through pages of book after book. Hmm, “not this one” becomes my common response. Frustration is beginning to set in, and the time is growing late.
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper
The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
While these books would fill many lists of some of the most treasured novels to read, my appetite is still looking for something with the “crowning glory” of literature. My vigilant book search continues.
Coming around a corner, the final section of the enormous store is laid out in front of me. This overly small section of is buzzing with activity. A large gathering of book lovers are digging all over its shelves. What stories are these readers of classic literature finding here?
“Jonah and the Whale”
“Moses Leads Israel Home”
“Daniel in the Lion’s Den”
“David vs. Goliath”
“Abraham and Isaac”
“Noah Builds an Ark”
Feeling the excitement now as well, my eyes capture a beautiful volume with the above stories, but I also discover “The Greatest Story of All-Time” about a Galilean named Jesus Christ.
My spiritual journey has finished at last. The Holy Bible will fill my spiritual hunger for an eternity. Amen!
The pace of work at Bill’s office has recently been too much to bear. Laboring for countless hours to land a substantial account for his marketing business, he has been working diligently, nearly nonstop, with little time off.
Viewing a beautiful day outside of his office window, Bill checks his calendar. All looks free for an afternoon rendezvous with one of his favorite places . . . a splendid, quiet 18 holes on the golf course.
As he quietly slips away from the office, Bill instructs his secretary to hold down the fort . . . “Please keep the boss off of my back for three hours.”
About two hours later, Bill’s boss shows up. He needs to catch up with Bill about this new account. Let’s eavesdrop on the conversation between the boss and Bill’s ever-protective secretary.
The boss asks the secretary, “Where’s Bill at? I need to check on his progress with our newest account.”
She dutifully replies, “He’s working on his game.”
“What game?”
“He’s working hard to land this new account that’s better than par.”
“Well, I hope he keeps his eyes focused on the prize, just like an eagle.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s looking for lots of birdies, perhaps an eagle or two”
As the boss leaves the office, he turns around and smiles, “Bill really is my ‘ace in the hole’ around here.”
Meanwhile at this same moment on the golf course, Bill tees off on the short, par-3, 13th hole. His ball carries straight and true, lands softly on the green, and meanders right into the hole.
A trio of boys is always up to mischief at school.
Mrs. Hall is the very strict, no nonsense, typing teacher up on the second floor. She runs her classroom like a well-run military operation. She adores reading about General George S. Patton.
The typing classroom consists of the latest manual typewriter models. (Sorry lad, no electric ones yet.)
The delinquent boys intend to surprise and shock Mrs. Hall this morning. After all, there is nothing wrong with conducting a small science experiment from her classroom.
Have you ever seen a typewriter fly?
The boys sneak an old typewriter into Mrs. Hall’s classroom before the school day begins.
With a lookout posted near the classroom door, the other two boys open a window and place the typewriter on the ledge.
Just as Mrs. Hall walks into the room, her ever-alert eyes see the boys at the open window with the typewriter.
“Hey Mrs. Hall! Have you ever seen a typewriter fly?”
The typewriter is launched from the window ledge, precisely on schedule.
Thinking the boys are dropping one of her prized Olivetti typewriters from the window, brings a shocking look of surprise to Mrs. Hall’s face . . . Priceless!
Little Johnny hurried down the sidewalk. Catching his breath upon reaching his school bus stop, he waited and waited.
Soon his fate began sinking in. He had missed the bus . . . again!
The warm and sunny morning invited him to walk across the street to a park. Curious and feeling playful, he explored and enjoyed some spontaneous fun. Readin’ and writin’ and rithmetic could wait a spell.
Minutes turned into a couple of hours. Feeling hungry, Johnny discovered a perfect hideout under a nearby pine tree. He pulled out his brown bag lunch.
Following a quick lunch, he felt a bit sleepy. Fresh air, plenty of exercise, and a filling lunch made him drowsy. Curling up under the tree, Johnny was soon snoozing on a bed of soft needles.
Stirring awake, the noise of his rickety school bus shuttling down the street reminded him that school was over for another day.
Upon reaching his house, Johnny’s loving mother met him at the door. Her stern-looking frown told him to watch out . . . caught again!
Milt and I push his small rowboat into the lake’s calm waters on a sunny, early morning. Fishin’ is absolutely on our minds.
Milt’s boat has stood the test of time, and she definitely looks it. There are patches here and there, scrapped and worn paint, and even some mismatched planking on the floor.
Rowing the boat far from shore, we arrive at the very best place to fish the lake. The deep water covers the territory with the biggest fish around.
We both become quite involved with our fishin’ as we cast again and again, hoping to catch the big one. We fail to notice the threatening skies above. A mother-of-all thunderstorms appear heading for the lake, and we sit directly in the crosshairs of its vicious aim.
Before we can even think about rowing back to the safety of the shore, Milt and I feel the tiny craft being engulfed by the torrents of rain and the white caps of the charging waves.
Our clothes and fishin’ tackle become soaking wet in a few short minutes, and then the boat begins to list to the starboard side. She’s taking on water much too quickly.
Looking more anxious by the second, Milt shouts out, “Start bailin’ now!”
Watching my tackle box floating away, I yell back, “With what?”
Written in October, 2019, this story is based upon a true incident experienced by a close friend of mine. He actually did make a bow hunting trip into the mountains of southwestern Montana in search of an elk to fill up his freezer.
“The freezer will be full of meat this winter,” Pete tells his skeptical wife as he heads to the mountains for his annual elk hunting trip.
Montana’s Big Hole Valley offers some of the best elk habitat in America. Pete has been preparing for his fall elk hunting trip over the summer, and he plans to bag a large bull elk this fall to fill up the home’s deep freeze with delicious and tasty elk meat.
In scouting the mountains, Pete knows exactly where the elk will be when he returns for bow hunting season. Armed with his very effective and precise compound bow, he knows success is just one accurate shot away.
Hiking into the mountains, Pete stakes out a familiar area and waits quietly in the tall grass and brush. The anticipation builds as his body stays on high alert. The nervous tension only adds to the anxiousness of the hunt.
Suddenly, an enormous bull elk wanders through the trail, just as Pete expects. His position provides a nearly perfect angle and distance. He takes careful aim with his bow, pulling it back with careful precision.
Plummeting to the ground with a groaning thud goes Pete!
The arrow flies harmlessly into the trees. Pete’s shoulder has popped out, and the throbbing sting is excruciating. He rolls around on the ground in acute pain.
Deliberately and triumphantly walking past the stricken bow hunter, the elk looks down at him with a slightly confident look as if to say, “I guess your freezer will be empty again this winter.”
Autumn fills with sounds of cheering fans and the excitement of Friday night high school football games. We pick up the action with play-by-play announcer “Cato the Cat” Johnson as he calls the final seconds of the game between the undefeated Valley High Bulldogs and the lowly Vernon High Bengals.
Welcome back football fans as the undefeated Valley High Bulldogs are poised to garner their 10th division championship in a row. The winless Bengals of Vernon High have put up an incredible fight against overwhelming odds tonight, but their time in the limelight is about to be extinguished by the mighty Bulldogs.
The Bulldogs are poised to add to their lead with the score at 7-2. The stingy Bengals have only yielded one score, and its defense has scored their only points with a safety back in the first quarter.
From the Bengals’ five-yard line, the Bulldogs are facing a second down and goal. They line up in their favorite power run formation. The ball is snapped. But wait . . . fumble!
The Bengals have recovered! Oh my, what a turn of events. However, the Bulldogs still hold the lead, and the game clock only shows enough time for one more play.
The Bengals face nearly the entire length of the football field—95 yards to be exact. With only one more play, it appears their woeful season will end on another sour note. At least the marching band has performed quite well this season.
The Bengals line up in a spread formation. The Bulldogs’ defense sets up in a prevent mode. They only need to stop the Bengals here, and their string of championship crowns will continue.
The ball is snapped. Instead of passing, the Bengals hand the ball off to their speedy halfback Kurt Warner. With a power sweep to the right, the Bengals are pushing the ball up the sideline. There is a phalanx of blockers in front of Warner.
Only two players stand between the Bengals and a touchdown. One blocker takes out a defender, and Warner fakes left and hustles right, leaving the last tackler humbled on the ground.
Nelson is on his way . . . to the 30, the 20, the 10 . . . touchdown!
The Bengals score, and the game is over. Vernon High 8, Valley High 7.
Oh my football fans! We have seen an incredible finish for the ages.
Life isn’t always as basic as a seemingly simple high school football game. Just as Vernon High comes into the game as a hapless underdog, Jesus Christ is perceived to be a loser and an underdog when he is taken to Calvary and a cruel Cross. Football fans underestimate the resolve of the Bengals, just as people underestimate Christ’s real purpose.
The Vernon High team experiences an unbelievable moment, but it pales in comparison to the stunning moment when Jesus’ followers find the empty tomb.
Big Sky Buckeye 