Almost October book trailer

My book begins 'Almost April' and now here we are heading into the Autumn.  My creation in prose 'Star Water' is the next noteworthy thing, I know it because we're looking for reasons and answers in this crucial time on Earth - not that I have the answers but the secret is to ask the right questions.  In fact - in Arthurian times that was the secret of the Holy Grail, to ask the right questions.  I had it up to here with fake magic and people who don't have a clue about what supernature is lol!  If the books in Alexandria hadn't been burned centuries ago we would have understood our world and environment a lot better!  Here is an another trailer from Chapter 8 - "Rides" -

Owen was absorbing this family history.  I could tell by his alert expression he was interested.
           “Cool,” he simply stated while Paul seemed lost in youthful memories.  “You’re still living off the land, Paul.”

            Paul broke out in a brief laugh, wrinkles creasing his face and lifting it.  “You got that right, bro!”

            “Are you ready to ride, Leena?” The warlock moved toward the bridles.

            “Yeah!  But I’m not very experienced, really.  I can’t sit a trot without a lot of air between me and the saddle.  I’m putting in a request for your gentlest horse, please Paul.”

            “Okay, that would be Chief.  He is sweet as sugar, aren’t you babe?  Sweet as sugar,” he repeated in a babyish voice as he gently touched the white blaze on his chestnut horse’s forehead.

            I was glad these animals were obviously so well loved and cared for by this eccentric and unusual hippie horse whisperer.  The animals’ coats shone with good health.

            “Chief is tall,” I noted. “That’s a long ways down.  Are you sure?  What about the smaller one?” I pointed at the coffee colored bay mare.

            “Koko?  She may be small but she can be skittish, and it’s Springtime.  All the horses are feeling fresh.  If you’re partial to KoKo I’ll saddle her for you.  But the black isn’t an option.  I woudn’t let you on him – he’s very touchy.  That’s Mandrake and he’s mine, not easy for anyone except me.  And the grey is Sir Galahad – Owen always rides him.”

            “Let’s draw a straw for Koko and Chief,” I suggested.  “No favoritism.  Let the fates decide.”

            “Alright, I’ll be the straw bearer.  Ha!  straw bearer, not strawberry!” My boyfriend joked as he turned his back to us and plucked blades of long grass from beside the fence post.  He came back and faced me.  “Longer straw is Chief.  Pick one”

            I studied two equal lengths of tufted grass in his closed fist and chose one on the left side.  He turned his palm upward and revealed my choice.  Long straw.

            “Chief!” The leggy chestnut horse acknowledged my voice.  His ears went forward.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Owen give thumbs up to Paul.

     “What’s that for?” I asked.                                            
            “What?” The warlock’s expression was innocent.

            “Nothing.  Let’s get the saddles.  This is going to be awesome!” I was excited to ride.  I followed the guys into the dim old barn.  Zeke ran ahead of us, his heavy shining sable coat shimmering with every step.  A pleasant mixed scent of hay, horses and leather filled my nostrils.  My gents each hoisted ornate stitched saddles over their shoulders and we went back outside to the pasture gate.  I helped by holding the bridles and handed them over to the guys.

            They easily placed bridles on Chief and the muscular thick necked, white maned dapple grey that seemed happy to be with Owen.  The horse nudged him and whinnied softly.

            “Sir Galahad, are you ready?” the sweet sorcerer murmured.

            “Hey Owen – sorry for not having one of those pancakes you English guys put on a horse’s back,” Paul stated as he winked at me.

            “If you’re referring to our English saddles, Paul, I’ll have you know it’s pretty darn hard to jump with these Western things.  If the horse clears the obstacle you have the saddlehorn knock the air out of your stomach.”

            “Well, we ain’t doing any jumping today, pardner,” I said in my best cowgirl accent.

            Owen turned to me and pursed his lips as he tightened a cinch belt under the grey’s belly.  “Hey pardner, we ain’t doin’ any little thang you don’t want.”

            He sounded hilarious trying to mimic a cowboy voice.  I burst out laughing.  Paul just grinned and shook his head.

            There were butterflies fluttering inside of me as we got ready to ride.

            “Wait – something for the saddlebags.” Owen quickly jogged to his Jeep and came back with a canvas package.  “A picnic.” He smiled and packed the satchel behind his horse’s saddle.

            “Sweet!” I was rather nervous about getting on the horse but there was no way I wanted to show it…something about animals sensing fear.  With my left foot lifted up high to meet a stirrup, I waved off help from my boyfriend.  In a somewhat awkward maneuver I was sitting in my saddle, looking down at what seemed to be a great distance to grassy ground.

            “Way to go!  You’ll be fine, Leena.” The warlock sat astride Sir Galahad in one easy movement.          

            “Enjoy the ride!” Paul swung the gate open partially.

            “Thanks,” we echoed as we ambled past him, aiming for a path among huge ponderosa pine trees at the end of his yard.

            I was beginning to feel comfortable at this slow pace.  Sir Galahad’s wavy white tail was a few feet in front of Chief.  We almost reached the end of the yard when a sound like a motor’s distant rumbling came from the sky.  The steady thumping drone grew louder and closer with each step our horses took.  Zeke began to bark menacingly above the steadily increasing hum.

            I peered over my shoulder at Paul and Zeke standing where we had left them near the gate.  Paul was waving at us – a pushing motion, like he was telling us to get into the forest right away.

            Quickly I turned my head around to see a concerned expression cloud my sorcerer’s handsome face.  Confused, I stared back in the direction of the gate as my horse continued stepping lightly forward into a secluded grove.

            “Come on, Leena,” Owen urged.

            Unable to tear my eyes away from the scene, I still looked at Paul as trees became a canopy above us. 

            “What is that noise?” I almost yelled, alarmed and rather scared.  Chief didn’t seem to be nervous.  He still followed Sir Galahad and soon we would be out of range of the view behind us.  But just before our path turned I pulled on my reins. There was no way this disturbance was going to be ignored by me, no matter what the warlock wanted me to do.

            “Stop.  I see a helicopter!” I yelled. 

            In a far corner of Paul’s fenced meadow a whirlwind was playing havoc with tall grass below, tossing and flattening the slender stalks in all directions.  Staying close their guardian, his two remaining horses were agitated, trotting back and forth along the fence, tossing their heads.  Zeke stood close by.

            Descending from above the violently waving grass, a black helicopter was landing like a giant bumblebee onto a nest.  Chief suddenly moved ahead.  I swiveled my head to see why we were moving and was startled by the resolute expression hardening my sorcerer’s angular features.  His eyes flashed as he gripped the rein close to my horse’s mouth and he pulled us forward to follow him and Galahad.

            “Leena, follow me.  We have to get out of view…now!” 

            Stunned by his demand and confused by the unfolding scene behind us I didn’t resist.

            “I don’t want them to see us.” He turned in his saddle and stared, his sage colored eyes shooting several sparks right through me.  “Let’s ride, babe!  Hurry!”

            These metallic fireworks were a signal of his intensity and there was no arguing.  It was like being struck by needles and a surge of hot energy rushed through me.

            He let go of my rein and lightly thumped his heels a couple of times against Galahad’s body.  They were off at a fast trot.  Owen was obviously a very experienced rider, easy and smooth.  Chief followed without my urging and I was trying hard not to bounce off the saddle.  Meanwhile I held onto the reins and the saddlehorn and kept my heels down.  Thankfully the boot heels kept my feet from sliding through the stirrups.

            Within a few paces there was a sort of rhythm to my horse’s movement but I couldn’t quite find a way to time the steps, to lessen the jolt.  We reached a straight stretch on the forest path cushioned with last year’s fallen pine needles.  At least if I fell, the ground wouldn’t be like cement.

            Owen’s horse started to gallop and within a pace or two, I felt Chief change stride.  A memory flashed in front of me…my sister, Crystal and me ….a flat desert at sunset with a pink red horizon and pink sand below us….Crystal and I on mustangs from the ranch…galloping back to their barn before our father had to pay for an extra hour.  Those were the early days…when we were brave.

            Courage flooded through my veins and pumped into my heart.  Galloping was easier than trotting.  I could do it.  The feeling of freedom was thrilling as I closely followed my leader.  I crouched down low, wind whipping my hair back.

            Our horses’ hooves broke up clumps of dirt, leaving tracks and making a heavy thudding sound with every stride while we crossed a clearing beside a small indigo pond.  Mallard ducks splashed up out of the water in a flock, honking as they rose in the noon hour sun directly above us.