Hi all and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this
bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER. To my online readers; I’m still having problems with my internet provider, Verizon, but I am using the free wifi at Starbucks to post this newsletter online if I have to.

mid-Hudson Valley news: This past Saturday there was the Beer, Bourbon and Bacon Festival at the Dutchess County Fair Grounds in Rhinebeck. I didn’t go because I don’t drink and drive and I am not a big bacon fan.
Also on Saturday was the Strawberry Festival in Saugerties. I din’t go to that one either though I do like strawberries, I’m just not that crazy about them that I will endure the discomfort in my legs and spine to walk around this festival.
I went to the Speedway service station franchise to put air in my tires. I now I am aging myself, but years ago we didn’t have to pay to use air, At Speedway it will cost you one dollar in quarters for five minutes of air and a dollar twenty-five for seven minutes of air using a credit card or debit card. This bothers me because at Quick Chek, another service station franchise you get air for free. Also at Stewarts. I think outfits like Speedway must learn that customers will shun them if customers have to pay for air.

observations: I will write about the tragedy in Orlando Florida. The gunman was interviewed three times by the FBI for possible connections to terrorist groups. He was cleared by the FBI all three times. It may have been better if the FBI used a psychologist to analyze him. Then maybe he wouldn’t have been cleared to purchase firearms. This Omar Mateen fired over 130 shots before he was shot dead by the Orlando Swat team.
I must ask; how many rounds does an assault rifle hold and how many times did this shithead have to reload his assault rifle?
Donald Trump in his ignorance, if not outright stupidity has said that President Obama should resign from the presidency because of this tragedy.
I have to wonder if Trump thought President Bush should have resigned after the tragedy of 9/11? Where 3000 plus Americans lost their lives.
Then President Clinton had warned President elect Bush abut Ossama bin-Laden and al Queda. He didn’t do anything. Why not?
It is obvious to me that Donald Trump doesn’t think things trough. This is too much work for him on his part.
Donald Trump is not only the presumptive Republican candidate for the presidency, he is also clueless and ignorant.

sports: You may have noticed that I did not write about the NBA playoffs or the Stanley Cup. I didn’t because none of the teams in these playoffs were Knicks, Nets, Rangers or Islanders.
Though the Caveliers came back from a 3-1 deficit to beat Golden State for the NBA championship.
MLB: The Yankees are six games back in the eastern conference of the American League with a record of 34-36 and are in 4th place.
The Mets are in 2nd place of the Eastern conference of the National league with a record of 37-32 and are five games back.

other: As with all previous issues of this newsletter, everything printed here is either copyright protected or copyright pending.
The history of P&G’s follows this newsletter from the mid 1930’s to almost the present.
The short story called The ANASIZI, follows this history. I wrote this story years ago when I became intrigued with the Anazazi who disappeared over 700 years ago. I hope you like it.

Thnak-you – Rik McGuire

History of P&G’s continued to the present

From 1925 – 1945 a number of diverse businesses occupied the building. These included Carols Clothing Store (1937), Atkins Drug Store (1938), Schaffert Real Estate Office (1943), Marie Shop (1940) and Dicks Bar and Grill among others.
In 1947 Dicks Bar and Grill was purchased by two Lake Mohonk employees, Pat Cafferty and George Jayne. Legend has it that neither told their wives of their intention to purchase the business. They immediately changed the Grills name to Pat and Georges. Among it loyal customers it was simply P&G’s.
One of the best things to happen to P&G’s occurred in 1961. An ex Dodger player named Stormer Nickerson became a bartender. Stormy as he was affectionately known became something of a legend. His heart, quiet good humor and generous spirit made P&G’s the one place that welcomed all from the harsher outside world into a refuge for college students, business people, local characters and even for a while, in the 1960’s, bikers. According to one source. “They weren’t as rowdy a crew as you might expect because although he was quiet, Stormy commanded and got respect.” His professional baseball background made him a natural to pitch batting practice for the New Paltz College teams and he did so for a number of seasons. One college fraternity considered P&G’s their private domain. The scene of everything important, news, views, camaraderie and especially humor was always evident at P&G’s.
After the St. Helens volcano erupted and news reports discussed the possibility of ash fall out across the U.S., Stormy came to work to find the staff dressed in garbage bags and metal kitchen colanders on their heads. Since no ash was reported on anyone Stormy reasoned the attire had been affective by making everyone laugh their ash off.

In June 1991, after 30 years, Stormy retired from P&G’s. He died in June of 1994. From his casual humor that lingers, to his Chile recipe that is still served and the kind memories often repeated by his many friends, Stormy is still here.
In 1969 Edwin Beck bought P&G’s. His first weekend as owner was completely successful. The following weekend, however, the place was deserted. A disheartened Beck couldn’t understand what he had done to alienate everyone so quickly. He was relieved to learn it was simply a matter of poor timing. Everyone was away and wallowing in a farm in Bethel NY. A music festival or something.
Ed Beck never spent time worrying. He looked across Main Street and up Platekill Avenue, seeing thousands of thirsty college students who, for the most part remained on campus.
Taking a good supply of liquid refreshment, Beck went to the campus and gave the students (all legal in those days) a new place to call home. He transformed P&G’s from a neighborhood bar into a local institution.
The face of Beck’s personality had much to do with the continued success of P&G’s, the place was fun. One oft quoted story about Beck concerns a young P&G’s enthusiast who wanted to be just like Beck when he grew up. It is reported that Beck in all humility replied. “Well you can’t do both.”
The name Pat and Georges was officially changed to P&G’s in the 1980’s by Ed Beck and his son Mike. In 1985, Mike bought out his father’s interest. In 1994, he undertook extensive renovations, making the building exterior appear as it did in 1900, when it was the Casino.

The ANASAZI

Tennessee 1858

The tall, rugged man left the front door of the cabin he had constructed years earlier, for probably the last time with a bed roll on his left shoulder and a rifle in his right hand. He walked to his horse, a stallion he called Dusty because it was a shade of grey all over, but for the white streak on it’s forehead.
Dusty was munching happily in a feed trough of oats, corn, wheat and just occasionally shifting it’s head to the nearby water trough to wash down it’s feed.
Martin Potter strode directly to Dusty and strapped the bed roll between the saddle and the saddle bags that he had already mounted on the rear quarters of Dusty. He then slid the rifle into the side rifle holster on the right front quarters of his horse.
After he was satisfied that he was equipped for a long many month maybe many year trip into the unknown of the west, he slipped his left foot into the stirrup of the saddle and mounted Dusty.
He guided his horse to the farm of Willard Jacobson whose wheat and corn farm bordered Martins property. They had become good friends in the ten years since Potter had established his farm.
Martin aided the Cherokee when they petitioned the Supreme Court on why because of previous treaties they should not be forced from their reservations. The U.S. Supreme Court agreed with their arguments, but President Jackson thought that the court could not enforce it’s decision. And these same peoples were forced upon Sherman’s March of Tears from their designated homeland in North Carolina to the area of the country that would later become Oklahoma.
Martin was deeded the land from a man who agreed with Martin when he helped the Cherokee with keeping their land. Martin was not the only one surprised at the reading of the mans will when he was given fifteen acres of farm land.
Potter was not a farmer, he was a tracker and guide for the city hunters who wanted to hunt for wild game. He was only comfortable in the forests of the New World. His grandfather came to the New World from Ireland with the hopes of establishing a trading company of the furs and skins of the animals he trapped and shot. His father, on the other hand, just wanted to establish a mercantile where he could sell his fathers furs, skins and other living essentials. His father was very successful in Maryland with his mercantile business and hoped his son would follow in his footsteps and take over the mercantile busi ness. But Martin had already discovered the wilds of the forest and it was in the forest he wanted to live his life.
Thus he went west to the land that was Tennessee and was able to live on the land that he so loved. He spent one arduous year building his cabin. He only earned money from the city folk who wanted to hunt. They paid well for the opportunity to hunt in the forest of the New World.
He learned quickly that the city people were impatient with hunting for game. If they
didn’t get a shot at an animal within a half hour of hunting they were disappointed. Martin tried to teach them the value of patience when they hunted, but they couldn’t be bothered with his learned knowledge. They only wanted to shoot and kill game as soon as they could so that they could go back to the city with their trophy and brag about their ability as a hunter. It wasn’t long before Martin grew tired of the altitudes of the city hunters and knew he had to explore the New World.
When he got to Willards home, he handed Willard a contract that stated if he was not back to his home within one year of the date of the document, Willard would have total control of his land.
“Are you sure of this?” Willard asked after he read the contract.
“Absolutely.” Martin said. “I know that if I am not back here within a year, I have found land and people I am more comfortable with or I will be dead.”
Martin had a drink of whiskey with Willard then a cup of coffee before he bid Willard farewell.
“I’ll write regularly of my travels and where I’m at so to keep you informed of my whereabouts.” Martin promised after he mounted Dusty.
Willard waved. “Stay safe and be careful.”
“Always.” Martin smiled as he whirled Dusty around and started his many year journey.
He didn’t gallop into his future, as he just let Dusty trot lazily because of his many years of learned patience. He knew he had all the time in the world as he traveled through the still mostly unexplored west of the new nation. He deliberately followed the Trail of Tears by the Cherokee who were forced from their lands by President Jackson. It was this Tail of Tears that the Cherokee people were forced to walk by the executive order of President Jackson. Of the 13,000 Cherokee people who were forced to walk the 2,200 miles to their new home, 4,000 died on this walk, thus the name Trail of Tears. And naturally William Tecumseh Sherman rode a horse on this March of Tears as did his officers and calvary.
Martin only stopped at streams or rivers so both he and Dusty could slake their thirst and maybe satisfy their hunger.
He came to the river that the Indians called the Mississippi, their name for long and winding river. He found an Indian encampment that used their rafts to take him and Dusty across the river. It was mid summer, so the river was relatively quiet and easily crossed with the current.
On the other side of the river he found an Army fort that allowed him to stay within the confines of the fort. They had a postal carrier service to send and receive letters and packages from the east of the river they also called the Mississippi.
It was when he was at the fort that he wrote his first letter to Willard.

Willard – September 1858

I just received a letter from Potter today. It was a very long letter describing his venture west.
He explained everything he saw and the peoples he met. He stressed how the Indians are not the heathen, uncouth savages portrayed in the country journals and books, but rather they are a peaceful people who only war when attacked or in need of food. He stressed how the newly arrived white man was driving them further and further from their ancestral lands. And distressed Martin greatly. I could tell from what he wrote that Martin knew more of the west of Tennessee than the President or any of the other supposed statesmen. I know this because in the many years I had known Martin, I noticed how observant he is of all around him including people.

Potter – October 1858

Martin had to stand up and storm out of the Army fort mess hall when he heard some of
the supposedly knowledgeable officers in the Army state that the Indians had to be conquered so the more highly educated white man could cultivate their land. He knew there was more to the Indians than was known by the white man. He knew it was the Indians who taught the white man the best way to cultivate corn.
He knew he had to leave and continue his venture west to the land of the supposed heathen.
As he rode Dusty further and further west he met with many tribes of Indians.
It was near winter when he got to that mountain range that would be called the Rockies in the future. He knew that it was imperative that he traverse the range before winter had set in. He walked up the trail of the mountain, holding the rein of Dusty. It was early November and he woke one morning, shivering because of a blanket of snow covered him in his bed roll, the ground and Dusty.

He quickly made a fire to warm himself. With the fire, he boiled water for coffee and cooked some of his last rations of thin meat. As he drank his coffee, he saw something far from the trail on the side of the mountain that not only caught his attention, but intrigued him because it was an opening in the mountain ridge that hadn’t been there the previous day. He knew immediately it would be a detour from the trail over the mountain, but the opening in the mountain intrigued him because there was a glow around it. And considering it was overcast from the clouds, that glow shouldn’t be there. Or so he thought.
What he didn’t know was that there were spirits who produced this glow in the mountain to guide him to a still unknown land.
It took him over an hour before he reached the mysterious opening in the mountain, that hadn’t been there the previous day. As he walked to the opening, he pulled Dusty’s rein as they walked through three inches of snow to the opening.
When he finally got to the opening, he was pleasantly surprised to find the opening
offered a warmth from the winter weather and he naturally had to explore the opening with Dusty trailing behind him.
The opening in the mountain was a doorway to a cave. But it was unlike any cave he had ever seen in his many years of travel. There were none of the loose rocks or pebbles on the floor of the cave. It was if the floor of the cave had been swept clean of rocks and pebbles.
But it was the glow on the walls of the cave that attracted his eyes. The glow pulsed, as if guiding him further inside the cave. And naturally with Dusty he followed this pulsing glow, as it was his nature to do so.

After, to what Martin thought was an interminable length of time, he finally came to another opening in the cave. When he was able to see through the cave opening, he was stunned to see a spring like valley of trees in almost full bloom and green all over. There was none of the snow cloud cover anywhere or snow on the ground.
He led Dusty through the opening and down a well traveled path to a village that looked to be an eastern Indian village because all the huts were the wooden type hogans of the eastern tribes. To say that Martin was astounded by his discovery would undermine everything he had seen. And he also noted the air smelled very clean.
Martin was unsure what to expect as he walked down the trail to the village at the
bottom of the valley. But Dusty seemed to want to be there in that village, as he tried to push past him as they walked down the trail.
When he finally got to the bottom of the trail and into the village, he was met by many gaily costumed men and women dancing in front of him, as if welcoming his presence.
Dusty pulled the reins from Martins hand and trotted to a herd of horses on the outside of the village.
Martin was unsure what he should do and only stood transfixed at the site before him. He was finally met by a man that he took to be the village chieftain, who spoke in a language that Martin could just barely understand. It seemed to be a cross between Sioux, Apache and Cheyenne, all of which Martin knew because of his many months of travel.
Martin held up his hand then spoke in the language he knew best, Cheyenne. “I am not sure I know what you are saying. Your language I cannot fully understand..”
The chief only smiled. “We are the Anasazi.” He spoke in Cheyenne.

Martin could only stand back and say. “The Anasazi supposedly disappeared five
hundred years ago. Are you those same people who disappeared?”
The chief only smiled.
“So. You came here. Wherever here is.” Martin said in Cheyenne.
The chief switched talking from Cheyenne to English without even stumble of words.
“Here is where our God and your God thought we should live because we are a non warring people who prefer peace. And it is obvious that our God and your God wanted you to find us. Why? That is only the mysterious reasoning of your and our God.
Martin was stunned. He didn’t know what to say, ask or even think. He was that out
of balance with what lay ahead and who he was talking to.
“When I saw that opening in the mountain, I decided I had to explore it and it brought me
here. There was three inches of snow on the ground. Yet here it is almost springlike with not a
snowflake to be found. Why?”
The chief just shrugged. “I or we don’t know. We have seasons just as those of you from the outside do, but our seasons are not so drastic or dramatic. I can only guess it is the will of the Lord.”
“You speak English very well.” Martin said. “How did you learn?”
The chief smiled. “We will on occasion travel through the tunnel between our two worlds, but only to learn what is happening on the other side. And in the years the Anasazi have lived here on our side, we learned the languages prevalent on your side.”
Martins rubbed his chin, thinking. He saw that Dusty had become very friendly with the
herd of horses on the outside of the village. To Martin it seemed that Dusty was somehow
communicating with the horses of the Anasazi.
“I am very much interested in learning more of you and your people.” Martin said. “I just want to learn for my own curiosity. Because I’m pretty certain you don’t want other peoples finding you.”
“You are correct, of course. The Lord must have shown you this land for a purpose only the Lord knows. And we do wish to keep ourselves hidden from the rest of the world.”
Martin nodded. “I can see why. It is far better you are isolated from the outside world. I would hate to see your village overrun by your so called outsiders. You were known as the ancient ones, at least according to other tribes I have talked to. Why?” Martin asked.
“Because we were here long before any of the other tribes arrived and they knew this. Thus we are the ancient ones.”
The chief nodded. “You are correct. We wish to remain unknown to the outside world
for as long as we can. My only question is? Why did the Lord allow you to find us?”
Martin smiled. “I can only guess it is because of my belief everyone is equal in the
eyes of God. Right now there is trouble brewing about the enslavement of black African men and women. Many fear there will be a war about this slavery. And God I hope not, because it will be deadly and could cause the destruction of our new nation.”
The chief nodded solemnly in agreement. “Come. I think you should meet my people and maybe in time they will become your people.” He then guided Martin into the village proper and introduced him to many men and just a few women.

All during these introductions, Martin kept looking over his shoulder at Dusty who seemed to enjoying the comradery of all the horses around him. Martin didn’t know what to make of this.
The chief showed Martin to a hogan that he could use as his own while he stayed in the
lost Anasazi village.
One morning, with the sun allowing enough light into his hogan, Martin wrote a letter to Willard. Though he didn’t know how it would be delivered, he still had to write to Willard to
explain his current circumstances.
Later that morning, he asked the chief, Rolling Thunder, if he could go back through the tunnel and mail a letter to his friend.
Rolling Thunder explained that he frequently sent some of his tribes people through the tunnel to investigate the outside world. He said one of his men would make certain his letter
was in the next pouch of a Pony Express rider.
“Don’t you want to know what I have written in the letter?” Martin asked.
Rolling Thunder shook his head. “No. I trust you will not reveal us to the outside world.”
Martin said. “When I travel, I tend to take the longest route only because I will see and experience that much more. I am pretty sure that if someone ever tried to follow me, they would be lost and give up their search for me. So they could not find you through me. Of that I am certain.
Rolling Thunder just reached out his hand to Martin for the letter. “I trust and believe you.”

Willard – November 1858

I got another letter from Martin and he only said he found some Indian people who were
more able to live within the natural world better than any other people he had met. And in this regard, I believe Martin because he is that insistent in his nature. And it is in his nature to live where he his most comfortable. From his letter I got the impression he is intent on spending his life with these unknown people. And I wish him luck. Because I knew how unhappy he was with the white mans treatment of the New World inhabitants, the Indians. I just hope and pray he will be happy with his new life. Though I am saddened that I might never see him again, but only communicate with him by his letters to me. I hope he keeps writing to me so I can learn more of the people he met and wants to spend his life with.

Martin

Martin had been meeting almost every day with Rolling Thunder where he, Rolling
Thunder, explained his people, their beliefs and desires in regards to the outside world. Martin only thought that they, the Anasazi, didn’t want to meet with the outside world. Not until they were ready and the outside world was ready for them.
No one in the village knew when or how this would come about, not even Rolling Thunder. They just knew they had to be patient which was in Martin’s nature.
Martin had met and become friendly with just about everyone in the village of the
Anasazi. But it seemed to him that Rolling Thunder was keeping him from one person in the village. Martin didn’t know who this person was or even why Rolling Thunder was keeping him or her from meeting him. So he could only do what was in his nature to do, be patient and go with the flow of village life.
He went with the hunters in their pursuit of game, but he was not allowed to use his rifle. He thought he had become quite adept at using the bow and arrow. Though he knew the other
village hunters thought him just a child with the his use of the bow and arrow. He knew this because they constantly had to show him the better way to hunt and aim as he took a shot at game.
It wasn’t long before he became almost as good as the village hunters with the use of his hickory bow. He started to feel more and more comfortable with the hunters with each hunt. And he saw they were becoming more comfortable with him in the hunting party, as they did not offer a lot of instruction or criticism as they hunted.

Willard – June 1859

I got from Martin what he said would most likely be the last letter he would write to me. As I read his letter, I was saddened because I will miss his letters and even when we talked when he lived near me. But I will relate what he has written to me.
Martin said that he found a people he is most comfortable with. Though he claims the outside world will never find them unless they will it to happen or the Lord wills it to happen. I am not sure what he means, but I think that the people he found are well hidden from prying eyes. They will be that much harder to find, if not impossible. I don’t know what he meant by the outside world . But it must be significant at least to Martin. I know he is happy with those people.

Martin

It was late spring, at least it felt to be that way to Martin when Rolling Thunder invited
him to meet the one person he, Martin, thought that Rolling Thunder was keeping him away
from.
Rolling Thunder brought Martin to his personal hogan. It was the first time that Martin had ever been in Rolling Thunder’s hogan. He had already met with Rolling Thunder’s wife, Sweet Dew. He had met her many times so he was not startled upon meeting her.
After he sat on some rolled furs in Rolling Thunder’s hogan, there came through a draped animal skin the most beautiful woman Martin had ever seen in his life.
She was beautifully shaped with a smile that could seduce any man. She had long black if not raven colored hair to her shoulders. She only stood about 5’4″, a good four inches shorter
than Martin. She weighed, Martin thought, just over one hundred pounds.
The tunic that draped her body was gaily colored with many beads. She just smiled at
Martin and he knew he was immediately in love.

Rolling Thunder saw Martin’s reaction and explained that the young woman was his daughter, Morning Star.
Martin was taken aback when Morning Star sat next to him on the rolled animal skins and blankets.
Rolling Thunder nodded his approval.
Martin didn’t know what to do. All he was certain of was that he was in love with
Morning Star.
Within a few days, Martin and Morning Star could be seen walking together around the
village hand in hand and even into the forest that surrounded the village. Martin thought he was happier then he had ever been in his life while he walked with her. He explained his life in the outside world to her. She listened intently to every word he spoke as if she were trying to immerse herself in his past life.
It was easy to talk with Morning Star because like her father, she had learned the English language. It was almost as if she had learned English from birth. Though he noted when she spoke with other Anasazi, she spoke their language.
He had started to call Morning Star, Dawn because he thought it was a far better
name for her and she agreed almost enthusiastically. Even her father agreed with the name change, as he called Morning Star, Dawn when they talked.
Martin was slowly learning the Anasazi language when he heard Dawn talking to others in her tribe. And Dawn would teach him more each day as they walked and talked.
One day as they walked in the forest, they lay down on a bed of soft sand and leaves.

They rolled onto their sides so that they faced each other when they talked, whispered to each other. As they talked, their hands were around each other. Then Dawn guided his hand to her breast.
“I don’t think your father and mother would approve of this.” Martin said.
Dawn giggled. “They are expecting this of us. Because they know we will be a family.”
“You mean? They expect us to marry?” Martin was stunned.
“Yes.” Dawn smiled. “And we should start our man, woman relationship now when we
are alone in the forest that you call home.”
Martin smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”
They slowly slipped the clothes off each other then enjoyed coupling. When they
finished, they were both gasping. They stood to pull on their clothes.
After they finished dressing, they walked back to the village hand in hand. Dawn squeezed Martins hand tight as they walked. “We can now tell mother and father that we are ready to be joined. But only if you are willing”
“If you mean married? Then I am most willing because I love you totally with all my heart.” Martin said enthusiastically.
“Then I will tell father to arrange the ceremony.” Dawn said.
Rolling Thunder and Sweet Dew were ecstatic at the proposed and forthcoming joining
of their daughter. And they prepared a ceremony that would be remembered for years to come.
After the almost constant dancing into the dawn and the feast, Martin and Dawn were
allowed to spend a day in his hogan to do what newly joined men and women do on their first
night together.

It had been six months when Martin met Dawn and it was four months later when he and Dawn essentially “married”. Six years later, Dawn thought that he should take her to the other world where Martin once lived.
Martin was unsure if this was such a good idea because he was unsure how others on the
outside world would accept his new bride. Dawn was insistent because she wanted to learn
more of the world where Martin once lived. And she wanted to know so their future children
would know of their fathers world. This was important to Dawn.
On the day they decided to go through the tunnel to the other world, Martin saddled
Dusty and Dawn draped a blanket over Spirit, the female horse Dusty had mated with and they guided their horses through the tunnel to the other world.
When they got through the tunnel to the other side, they walked their horses down the trail of the Rockies. They started to near a nearby army town and Dawn squinted at the sounds and smells of the army town.
“I hope not all of your country on this side smells like this.” Dawn said.
Martin laughed. “Yes it does. But you will get used to it.”
“I hope not.” Dawn said. “It is disgusting.”
“Be patient. I will lead you to my old home through the forests. And the sounds and smell should be more pleasant.” Martin explained.

Tennessee 1865

It was a many month trek to his old home in Tennessee. Martin was surprised at the number of towns or villages that had sprung up during his many year absence . But it was in the forests that he and Dawn were most comfortable.
When they arrived at the village of his old farm, he waved to the many people he
recognized as he and Dawn rode through the village to what used to be his farm.
It was mid summer when they arrived in the village and he guided Dawn to his old
homestead.
He was surprised to see the cabin he had constructed those many years ago still standing and seemingly unoccupied. He saw several children playing in the yard. He also saw several farm hands reaping corn on the farm that Martin never harrowed, planted or harvested.
He didn’t recognize anyone in the field near the cabin and just asked about Willard.. He was told Willards home was down the road a stretch and it was the same home that Willard had built those many years ago.
Martin was surprised that the small cabin Willard had when he left had been enlarged many times and had become almost a mansion in Martin’s eyes. Even Dawn gasped at the size of Willard’s home. They saw several children playing in the front yard of Willard’s home when they dismounted their horses, tied them to the hitching bar and walked to the front door.
Before Martin could knock, the front door opened with a beaming Willard with arms
outstretched and a welcoming face.

“Martin!” He said. “I feared I would never see you again. You are now here. Why? You in any trouble?”
Martin shook his head. “No. I would like you to meet my wife, Dawn the mother of our future children.”
held out his hand to Dawn. “I am very pleased to meet the wife of one of the best people to have lived in this country. But come inside and meet my wife.” He smiled as he
held the door open.
After the introduction to Willards wife, they all sat down on chairs around a large kitchen
table. Willard’s wife, Mary, made coffee.
As they sat sipping coffee, Willard explained what had happened to the country with the Civil War that claimed 649,000 lives. All because of that institution, slavery, that the Confederate states wanted to keep as a God given right. Martin nodded then told Willard of the towns and villages he had seen almost destroyed by the war.
“So. You came back here? For what?” Willard asked
Martin smiled. “My wife wants to see where I once lived.”
“Why?”
“Her people are a special people who are guided by the Lord. And she just wanted to see my world.”
Willard pointed in the direction of Martins old home, cabin. “You can stay in your old homestead for as long as you like because though I now have ownership of your land, I kept your
old homestead in case you ever returned and needed a place to stay.”
Martin smiled. “Thank you. We will take advantage of your generosity tonight. We both could use comfortable sleeping beds as we have been forced to sleep on leaves, grass and
soft dirt for many weeks. Just one question. Is the hunting still as good as I remember it to be?”
Willard nodded. “Probably better because besides the few local farmers the only other hunters are those city folk you tried to teach hunting. When they come, they get so drunk from whiskey and beer, they can barely hold a rifle much less aim at game and take a shot without
falling on their ass. You still have that rifle that you were such a dead eye shot with?”
Martin shook his head. “No. I prefer to use my hickory bow and special arrows that
Dawn’s people taught me to use when hunting. It is so much more of a challenge with my hickory bow and arrow than with a rifle. I still have the rifle, but only use it to defend myself from interlopers.
After they had a fine dinner prepared by Mary, Willard filled a sack with foodstuffs
that Martin and Dawn could use in his old homestead. There was enough that they could live and eat comfortably for a few days and Willard promised if they needed any more, he would supply them with what they needed.
Both Martin and Dawn smiled their appreciation as they rode off on their horses.
They enjoyed their first night together in his old homestead and a few days and nights afterward.
One day Martin decided he had to hunt for food. He took his hickory bow with a quiver of arrows, but before he left, Dawn said. “I will go to Willard and Mary’s home to borrow some basic food stuffs like coffee, potatoes, beans and whatever they can give.”
Martin nodded as he mounted Dusty. “I shouldn’t be too long. At least not according to Willard.”
Within a few hours, Martin had bagged two turkeys with his hickory bow and thought that was sufficient for more than a few days of meals. When he returned to his old homestead, Dawn was happily peeling the potatoes, onions and beets that Willard had given her. Martin knew that both he and Dawn should be happily fed for at least a few days.
It was a few days later that the city hunters learned that Martin was available to guide
them as they hunted. And Willard was correct when he said that they would only drink their
whiskey and beer before they would hunt. And they were barely able to stand much less hunt. It was easy money for Martin, as he had to do essentially nothing to guide the city drunks into the forest to hunt. They were too inebriated to do anything, but fall on their asses.
For Martin it was an easy cache of money that he could use in the nearby village for necessary foodstuffs for himself and Dawn.
There were a couple of city hunters who discovered the beauty of Dawn and decided they would take advantage of her beauty when Martin was away guiding other city hunters on a hunt.
They waited almost impatiently until they saw Dawn leave the cabin to peel more potatoes, onions and other essentials. It was then they decided to pounce and have their way with her because Martin was away guiding a few city drunks on a hunt.
They were totally unprepared for a woman who had been taught by the Anasazi on how to protect herself.
The three men who envisioned having their way with her and were totally unprepared for her defense of her womanhood.
Martin arrived at their homestead and saw the last man still standing with Dawn in his arms readyand his trousers at his ankles so he could mount her from behind. Martin first took his rifle to take the man out then decided on his hickory bow instead. He took aim at the offending mans exposed knee and fired an arrow through the thigh above the knee. The man went down screaming with the pain to his thigh and holding it with both hands as the blood seeped through his fingers, with the arrow through the thigh.
“I’m going to report this assault on me to the sheriff.” The man cried.
Martin laughed. “It will be funny to see you walk into town with your trousers at your ankles.” Martin laughed again. “You will have to explain to the sheriff how your trousers were at your ankles when I shot you with my arrow.”
The man looked down at his ankles and saw the situation was indeed embarrassing. “Can you help me?” He pleaded.
Martin nodded. “Of course. I’ll ride into town and get the sheriff and Doc Baker. It shouldn’t be more than an hour. In the meantime I think I can convince my wife who you tried to rape, give you some lemonade.”
“If you insist, I will.” Dawn said.
An hour later Martin returned with Sheriff Card and Doc Baker. While they rode back to his homestead, Martin explained to Card what had happened and why he was forced to shoot an arrow through the mans thigh.

When they finally arrived at the yard of his homestead, they found the man, Jeb Harker, moaning on the ground. Dawn was nearby with a pitcher of lemonade and a glass. She could
only smile when she saw them arrive.
Doc Baker immediately slipped off his horse with his bag and went to kneel by Harker to remove the arrow. “You aimed for his thigh?” The doc asked Martin.
“Actually I was thinking of putting the arrow into one eye for a clean kill, but thought
better of it.”
“Wise decision.” Sheriff Card said. “I would’ve hated to bring you in for murder.”
“But he was trying to rape my wife.” Martin protested.
“Yeah, but what of those two men laying on the ground?” The sheriff asked.
“I took care of them with my paring knife and fists. I hope you won’t have to arrest me.” Dawn said with a snicker.
The sheriff shook his head. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll take the three of them back to their hotel and escort them to the train so they can go back to their lives in Atlanta.” He stared at Jeb. “The three of you are no longer welcome in my town.”
Jeb winced as Baker pulled the de-barbed arrow from his thigh.

Later that night after they finished their love making, Martin said. “I think we should return to your world. I don’t think I can stand much more of the hostility here.”
“Like you explained when we first entered your world and I could smell the odors here. You said I would get used to it. And I have. I don’t know if I want to leave your world just yet.”
Dawn said.
Martin smiled. “I knew you would. But I think the spirits of our worlds are guiding me
to take you back to your village and we can be happy and feel safe.”
“Safe? What do you mean?” Dawn asked.
Martin sat up and looked at Dawn. “What would happen to a man of your people who tried to rape a woman?”
Dawn shook her head. “I don’t know because I don’t think it has ever happened in our
tribe of people.”
“Precisely.” Martin almost shouted. “It doesn’t happen with your people because everyone respects everyone else. I believe I was led to your people because I believe the same.”
Neither Martin or Dawn saw the spirits above them nod agreement.
What Martin didn’t realize that there were spirits of deceased people who saw that he respected human life. And this respect was to be commendable.
These same spirits guided both Martin and Dawn back to the Anasazi homeland. It was a many month trip. Martin had to protect Dawn from many adventurous and amorous people in the wilds of the New World. He breathed a sigh of relief when they found the trail in the Rockies that would lead to the tunnel between the two worlds.
Spirits guided them as Martin and Dawn unconsciously followed the guiding of these spirits.
When they finally got back to the Anasazi village through the magic tunnel, they found Rolling Thunder on his death bed, waiting for their return.

Rolling Thunder was gasping for breath when they entered his hogan. Dawn immediately ran to his side and kissed his forehead.
“Father.” She almost cried. “It was Martin who insisted that we should return. I wanted to stay, but he insisted that we return. I’m glad that he forced this upon us or I would not have been here with you as you lay sick.”
Rolling Thunder raised his head. “My daughter. I knew you would be here before I died.”
“Father! You can’t die.” Dawn cried
“It is my time my daughter. I am just happy that I can name the next person to lead our people.” He said looking to Mtin. “And your name as chief of the Anasazi will be Hunter.”
Martin stepped forward, took Rolling Thunders hand. “I accept your name for me. But I can’t be the chief of your people. There must be someone else who is better able to lead your tribe. Besides I can barely talk in Anasazi. There must be another here who is better able to lead your people.”
“There is Wolf Moon. I have considered him as the next chief, but I see many spirits milling around your head, smiling. So I think it should be you.”
Martin shook his head. “Name Wolf Moon and I will be his sage or advisor.
Rolling Thunder looked up to the ceiling of hogan. “I see the spirits nodding their agreement with you. So Wolf Moon will be the chief here. Bring him to me so I can name him as the one to lead the Lost Anasazi.”
Wolf Moon entered the hogan of Rolling Thunder and took his hand. “You wanted to see me?” He asked in the Anasazi language.
Rolling Thunder nodded. “Yes. You are to be the chief of the Anasazi after I die which will be soon. I ask that you use Martin, Hunter, as your sage and advisor.”
“Of course, my chief.” Wolf Moon said as Rolling Thunder gasped his last breath.
Dawn and Sweet Dew cried as they cradled the body of Rolling Thunder. Martin just lowered his head in respect for Rolling Thunder’s passing. He then went to Wolf Moon and said. “I am to be your advisor and sage. At least that was what Rolling Thunder thought to be the best for the Lost Anasazi.”
Wolf Moon grabbed both of Martin’s shoulders, nodded. “Yes. I know because that was the last wish of Rolling Thunder. We will make his wishes known to the tribe after his burial in the sacred circle.”
The burial ceremony for Rolling Thunder was a three day affair. Everyone cried at his passing especially Sweet Dew and Morning Star. On the final day of the ceremony celebrating this passing, The Anasazi praised his leadership of the people. Martin was surprised that Rolling Thunder had lived for 80 summers. Martin didn’t think he looked that old when he died.
On the last day of celebrating the death of Rolling Thunder, Dawn took Martin’s hand to their hogan. “Come.” She said. “We must honor my father by producing for his spirit grand children.”
“Are we ready?” Martin asked.
Dawn giggled. “We have been ready since we were first joined. And it is the wishes of my fathers spirit.”
“Okay. If you want to.”
“I do and it is necessary for the spirit of my father.”

Nine Months later

Dawn gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The boy was called Hawk, the girl Morning Dove
Hunter and Dawn were ecstatic with the both of their children. He couldn’t, but smile as he held one child and Dawn nursed the other.

Five years later.

Hunter had gone through the sacred tunnel on a continual basis every year to see what was happening in the outside world. And each time, he returned he was not happy with what he had seen or discovered.
He witnessed how some people in the south were still fighting the Civil War in their minds. Though it was only in their minds, Hunter thought that they could be dangerous. He saw the hatred of these people to the black Americans that they were equal.
Hunter was the only person in the Anasazi Wolf Moon felt comfortable of sending to the outside because he knew Hunter was better able to explain the altitudes of the people on the other side.

Wolf Moon was hoping that Hunter would after one expedition to the other side that the other side was able to accept the Anasazi people. And each time Hunter came back he was disappointed to hear Hunter say that the outside world was not yet ready for the Anasazi people.
Dawn and Hunter had already told their children that he was from the other side and they want to see the world where their father once lived. Dawn and Hunter thought deeply about bringing their children to the former world of their father. But Hunter insisted it would not happen until the twins were past fifteen summers. “Why fifteen summers?” Dawn asked.
Hunter could only shake his head. “I don’t know. I guess I feel that will be a good age for them to experience the out side world , my former world.”
“If that is what you think is best then I will have to abide by your decision.” Dawn accepted.
Hunter noted that the people of the Anasazi aged more slowly in their world than in the out side world. He figured it was because of the weather in their world and the fact there was little or no hate with the Anasazi people.