Someone is
stealing Sully Wheeler's cattle. Are they trying to force him out? Or are they
after him because he's an old time gun hand hiding from his past? And who is
this red-coated Constable Theason who insists on investigating? Is this just
cattle rustling or something else? The local newspaper seems to be more
interested in what the Mounties are doing within their ranks than following the
story of thieves and lost property; why is that?
With the
rustlers on one side, his commanders treating him like a pariah, the press
wanting information he can't supply, a partner he doesn't really trust, will
Theason manage to survive?
Dave McGowan has been a cowboy, forest fire fighter, heavy equipment operator, farmhand, gardener, road musician and businessman. He has lived in several areas in British Columbia, Alberta and Ontario and played music in several areas through-out North America. He and Karen are the proud seniors to four children and eight grand-children. He now writes and works as a commercial driver in Northern British Columbia.
I sat so merry in my abode
Loving hands around me
I dreamt of such glorious days
One day i would see
I remember the day I left
My room
I closed the door behind me
One quick look again
Then walked away
The room which would always remind me
The glorious days I had dreamt
I did merrily spent
How little did I then know
Life turns on a dime
My room is now not as it was
When I closed the door
Behind me
My room now is a prison
But not how one would invision
It is one of sorrow and grief
Sadness burns into the bare walls
I catch my breath
And weep
Why did thou'st doth betray?
The room which once embraced me
I ask with riddled heart
Jagged and torn
Which wicked riddles have I thus sought?
I sit still
I am now my room
No dreams as once before
I age before my open door
In my room long ago
I sat merrily in my loving abode
Loving hands did hold me
All gone
My room and myself
Now one
Two thrust to be together
Forever
Alone