Ghost Rider

Painting by Lorna Dillon

Ghost Rider


He came from the plains in the heat of the day
the rocks and the cactus all steamed
I saw him far off . . . a man on a horse
like a ghostly mirage . . . he seemed

He kept riding on ‘til he stopped by the barn
yet neither the horse . . . nor he
Would drink from the well and I wondered "pray tell"
. . . what kind of pair this could be

The desert was empty for near thirty miles
no water or shade . . . anywhere
Yet neither was thirsty . . . I couldn’t help think
. . . who could survive . . . out there

Why had they come here and where were they going
. . . only the desert could tell
Their ghostly appearance had caused me to guess
they were going or coming from hell

The silence was broke as the man quietly spoke
"I came in reply to your need"
"I’m known as the best . . . if you’d care to test
and also the best is my steed"

I still can’t explain why I didn’t refrain
from hiring a man I can’t pay
But quickly I said "you’ve a job and a bed
unpack all your gear sir . . . and stay"

He worked steers and cows and it seemed that somehow
they minded his voice . . . not his whip
I once saw him shoot the head off a snake
. . . he drew and shot straight from the hip

The wood was all cut and the fences were mended
. . .I saw not him chop or string wire
My wife and I prayed that we not be dismayed
by the man that was now in our hire

The small ranchers knew that only we few
had fenced in the land that we bought
"Fencing must go" . . . the big owner said
"or else a range war will be fought"

Stark was his name . . . the big owner came
when the Indians were still on a tear
He’d conquered the land and now couldn’t stand
the fencing of land anywhere

He called for a meeting in town to decide
if we’d fight or sell out and just leave
The small ranchers met at my house in hope
an alternate plan they’d conceive

Reluctantly I had invited the stranger
I remember . . . surprised that he came
Ghost Rider now was the name he was called
but not to his face . . . a nickname

After an hour or two planning in vain
it seemed that there wasn’t a way
Then Ghost Rider stood . . . and he said let’s all kneel
and silently each of us pray

The meeting was ended and all had decided
we’d go into town just as planned
That night as I prayed . . . I asked for God’s help
tomorrow we’d be far out manned

Next day as we rode into town there they stood
about thirteen hired guns around Stark
Ghost Rider rode far ahead ‘til he stopped
beside Stark . . . and made a remark

He said "Sir don’t move . . . in the Church steeple there
three angels have drawn a fine bead"
I looked ‘round to see . . . but saw not the three
yet Stark somehow quickly agreed.

He told all the rest . . . . . to lay down their guns
but several had started to draw
Guns flashing . . . shells firing . . . bullets around
I couldn’t believe what I saw

The Stranger fired six shots straight from the hip
while reaching to pick up Stark’s gun
The six shots hit six guns not yet fully drawn
then quickly the Ghost Rider spun

He emptied Stark’s gun and all found their mark
now twelve men were fully unarmed
Stark and the thirteenth man reached for the sky
we fired not a shot . . .no one harmed

I couldn’t believe . . . the stranger not hit
as bullets had flown all around
I stood there in awe . . . and finally I saw
some drops of his blood on the ground

He mounted his horse and began to explain
he hadn’t been sent there to kill
He said in the end . . . he’d been just a friend
to help God accomplish His Will

The blood dripped a trail as he rode out of town
we stared a long time through the haze
All that took place in the last several weeks
was now in my mind just a maze

I never saw angels up high in the steeple
but Ghost Rider might have been one
Or just a mirage . . . when the rocks and the cactus
make steam . . . in the hot noon-day sun.


Ron Baron © Copyright