Her name was Diana. He had no idea how he knew her name. It was just there in his mind. The first time he saw her was one evening at twilight. She was riding a magnificent white stallion across the pasture about two hundred yards out from his ranch house engulfed in a cloud of flowing white gossamer. He wondered if she and the horse were real.

     He did not understand what he had seen. The vision, the apparition, had crossed his vision for no more than a minute. He wondered if he was hallucinating or daydreaming. How did he know her name? Whatever it was, was gone now. He entered the ranch house, shut off the lights, and crawled into bed.

     The next day he was up early as usual and took care of  his chores. He did not have many since he was “retired.” On a 500-acre spread, even though no longer fully active, “retired” was a vacuous term. The ranch was well over a hundred years old, left to him by his parents who got it from his dad’s parents. The house and outbuildings were sturdy enough but showing their age. He could spruce them up with a new coat of paint and clear the weeds growing near the buildings, but why? He did not feel a great motivation. Things seemed just fine as they were. He owned several horses, boarded a few others, and leased most of the ranch for grazing cattle. Other than that, things were quiet. He enjoyed riding out just to be one with the land and the horse.

     As he sat on the porch drinking coffee late in the morning, he remembered last night’s woman and horse. He was having a tough time visualizing what he had seen. “Maybe, I’m getting old and having dreams.” While he was about to let the memory go, he remembered her name. Diana. It had puzzled him last night and again now. How did he know her name? It had been crystal clear to him last night. He had just known and that bothered him.

     Another time, again in his porch rocker, he saw Diana. Once more the evening light was dimming, and she was riding the white stallion. They seemed to be as one flowing along. They were riding easily, obviously enjoying the ride. Diana looked at him as she passed. Riding on, she and the stallion disappeared into a cluster of trees. He was on his feet and knew what he saw was no dream, or was it? A moment later she appeared from thin air on the other side of the corral. She was looking at him and had a slight smile on her face. Even though the air was still, her gossamer wrap continued to flow around her. It was clear the wrap was all she wore. She was outstandingly beautiful and in an instant, she was gone.

     The ranch was eight miles from town and three miles from his nearest neighbor. Wyoming can give the impression of emptiness, but he liked it just the way it was. From the outside, eastern Wyoming seemed uninviting and bleak. However, if you lived there, on the land, you became one with the land. He had been here all his life, knew the land, knew horses. He felt age creeping into his bones, but what he had seen stirred his blood. On one hand, Diana and the horse were very real. On the other, they seemed so ethereal as to be not quite solid. He just could not wrap his mind around it all.

     It had been months since his last sighting, and the memory of Diana and her horse had faded. He had just returned from his monthly supply trip into town and the world felt great. He felt good. The smell of the ranch and grass reminded him of how much he loved this land. He put away his supplies and started another pot of coffee. Somehow the rich smell of fresh coffee enhanced his appreciation of the ranch and his land. He figured he would need to make the long trip into Casper next month for the things he could not get locally. Luckily, he did not have to make that trip but every three to four months. He felt at home and fulfilled.

     Later in the summer an afternoon came with blustery winds and the threat of a thunderstorm. Being late summer, thunderstorms were common. He liked to keep busy and had completed the busywork job of raking out the corral. He was on his way to put away his rake and saw Diana riding her horse in the distance. He had a clear view of her almost a mile off riding in wide ranging circles. This is different, he thought. Usually she was closer to the ranch house. While his memory had dimmed of her other visits, he was no longer surprised when he saw her. She certainly was not threatening and gave off an aura of calm and peace. He put his rake away and closed the barn door. She was gone when he looked again.

     Seasons had come and gone with occasional Diana sightings. Late the next fall he wrote a letter to his two sons. It was a letter of hello and general news. He included his unusual sightings of “Diana and her stallion,” mentioning how her vision was so real and yet his disbelief of her reality. “Maybe just and old man having dreams,” he said. The boys had moved on to high tech careers on the west coast. They did not communicate with their father often and never had a love for Wyoming’s open range. They wrote off Diana, just as he had said, as an old man’s dreams.

     Eventually the snow had disappeared, and spring reluctantly came in June. The grass was winning the battle to become green and the early wildflowers started to show. Life was renewing itself and all was well. Throughout the summer Diana appeared several times. Sometimes close and sometimes off in the distance.

     Winter came early with heavy snows and never-ending north winds. He would check in with his neighbors as they did with him. Neighbors, meaning those who lived out of town and within ten miles. They did not see each other often, but they looked out for one another. Although alone, he was secure because he had a large supply of propane for heat, the backup generator, plus a large food supply. He didn’t board horses in the winter and had sold his own several years back. Life was slow in the winter, but he was content.

     What he found interesting was that Diana continued to appear. She seemed to have her own light and her summer gossamer flowed as the stallion loped through the snow. The cold seemed not to touch her. Once he saw her in the barn but vanished as he approached. Strange. Inside, the barn smelled of cinnamon. On several other occasions he’d curiously smelled cinnamon in the house.

     Late one night, he awoke to the smell of cinnamon. Opening his eyes, Diana was near his bed.

     Smiling, she stretched out her hand and said, “Come John. It’s time to go home.”

Larry Patzer
July 2018

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