Curtis D Cushman | Assorted Collection

Melchizedek White and his two travelling companions set out on a man-hunt from Helena, in the Montana Territory, with a bang

The woman had no horse. While she could ride, she chose not to. She would lead, on foot, her moccasins padded as much for quiet as for protection. She wore finely made buckskins cut to the knee with but a thin blanket around her shoulders to keep out the chill. A Blackfoot woman was used to the cold. White touched his forehead with his right hand, then a made a circular motion with the same hand as if he were wiping down a table-top. He then placed his right hand on the top of his extended left hand and shoved his joined hands sharply away from his chest.

We ride.

The woman turned from the tower, her back to the sun. She said nothing as she stood there, then she began quietly padding to the trailhead leading down. The two men rode behind in line, White leading.

They went down from the watch-tower, zigging back so Last Chance Gulch was now on their left. The town of Helena was growing, none so more than in the Gulch, where gold had been first discovered in deep and rich placer gravels. The older exhausted claims had been back-filled and some substantial houses and stores were nestled below, but there was an air of chaos about the settlement, as the roads followed the wandering paths that had been originally lain down twenty years before to tie together, as well as avoid, the various individual claims. Many shanties lined the by-ways, and there still was a tent or two pitched in the odd corner. Add to that the press of miners going to the active digs, the carts and drays filled with supplies and tools running here and there, and the swell of small crowds of men and calicoed women in the dirt of the streets or gathering on the wooden sidewalks. The gold being dug out further downstream kept the place thriving, as the placer deposits never seemed to end. But there was no more prospecting here, no more room for the one-jackass prospectors or no-jackass dreamers: there wasn’t a square inch of Helena that wasn’t staked and now protected by lawyers more than shooting irons. In other words, it was turning civilized. Which made it all so surprising when the small party, half-way down the wide trail, was shot at.

THE SINGLE WORD

With the addition of a single word

At the moment when there was time,

I might have seen my first son or daughter,

And known a smile of innocent mime –

Had the winter of her eyes but cleared.

Had the clear spring dawning only appeared

Behind those vast and clouded banks

To light the still plain with sudden laughter,

So much would have been my loving thanks

A life, now gone, would have been assured.

A short collection of faith- based Judeo-Christian poetry that is, well, different.

ON FINAL

For Kent Cushman USN (Ret)

And all naval aviators

Curtis D Cushman 2010 All Rights Reserved
Forgive me Lord if I think

I am more than a splash upon

Your waters.

Forgive me if I think I am more

Than a fleck across a cloud.

Remember me Lord,

For I have used the power

Of Your Creation

To strike Your enemies

Knowing that I too

Shall

Fall.

Praise You for peace

Praise for love of family

And blessings that never cease.

And now Lord,

I’m

On Final,

And so I pray:

Bless the ships and planes, O Lord

Bless the sea,

Bless the martyred men

Asoft their sleep in Thee.

And only then

At the end

O God

Bless me.

Curtis D Cushman