5/24/15 It Was Dark and Stormy?

       I was recollecting a past life the other night, as we all do from time to time.  This one was from about five life cycles ago.  The year was 1820 and life was good.  I was mostly indian, had a horse named Kishi.  I was about 14 and was mostly a man but still not married.  I would consider myself a smart indian, but you would already know that.  I led a crew of indians, ever vigilant of the white man encroaching on our lands.  We spent the days on our horses, hunting, and always tracking game animals.  We found it curious that although we never settled on a piece of land, the white man, chose land and there he stayed.  We could count on Old man Johnson, always working on his farm.  Sometimes I'd take a young indian princess and go riding by his farm, she'd be dressed in nothing but a reddish, burgundy hat.  They weren't too bright but when they kissed, you get the idea....
    There was also that other old man, Mr. Macdonald.  He had a farm and boy was he proud of his chicks.  He had some here he had some there, he usually had them everywhere.  Once he started telling you, he would go through his whole list, from chicks, to pigs, to ducks, to cows.  It made it very easy to steal from him, because he told us where he had everything.
    So anyways, one day we're out on patrol, you know 1 little, 2 little, 3 little indians, 4 little , 5 little, 6 little indians, 7 little, 8 litttle, 9 little indians, 10 little indian boys... and there before us stood an injured David G Burnet.  He had fallen off his horse and into the Colorado River.  He was injured, already suffering from symptoms now known as tuberculosis.  Normally, a couple arrows and we'd kept going, but he was traveling alone and we felt sorry for him.  He was not a threat sitting there drowning in the water.  We took him back home, and brought him back to health.  He stayed with us for two years, finally leaving with Ben Milam, a trader.  Last we heard he returned to Cincinnati where he wrote for the paper and finally back to Texas under Stephen F. Austin, where he provided law advice for 200 settlers and consequently set up the first Presbyterian Sunday School.  He was a deeply religious man, who neither drank nor swore, so he was alright by us.
    I think the thought came back to me because my son is impersonating David G.Burnet in a school activity and the name awoke that part of my brain.  I remembered the man, hell I saved his life.