Jed had married that spoiled sorority queen out of duty to womankind. As he told it, "Of course I felt since we were sleeping together, I had to marry her." In spite of Jed's attitude of doing the "right thing," inside of two years she had become obsessed with a warped perception of his "cruel and unusual" treatment of her needs. "How could I ignore her demand for a new clothes drier, and selfishly purchase school books instead? Hats, hell yes I change hats, but I have never pretended to be anything I wasn't. A professor's salary isn't the top of the list as professions go, yet I felt we were doing pretty good. Somehow, though, I was guilty, guilty, guilty. Irene's last words to me were something to the effect that I was a failure."

"It took me a long time after the divorce was final to realize that she used that statement as a defense. Dumb, huh? I had been away. I came home from taking my class on a field trip, and found our apartment stripped bare; my hats, and clothes, a pitiful little pile, in the middle of an empty room. When I finally tracked her down by following a trail as erratic as that of a hobbled horse- she was living with a back to the earth type; figure that if you can —she reacted to my simple 'why,' by attacking."

At that time, Jed blamed himself for all the sorrow caused. He didn't contest the divorce. Gave up his position, without notice, and retreated to what Jed felt was his "place in life." A simple log cabin, sitting alone, at the edge of a wilderness.

Jed's dad passed away shortly after hearing the news that he probably would never be able to give his grandchild a first riding lesson. This seemed to be the thing that forever wiped that famous namesake smile from his face. Of course, Jed felt guilty about that. Left alone, in his sorrow, and guilt, the problem became a day-to-day nothingness. While involved in grad studies in Scotland, he had started research on the ancient Picts —the original blue bloods. But now the book he dreamt of one day publishing was just a lonely echo in his mind.

The only time Jed felt alive was when he saddled up Pokey, who, in typical Western understatement, was the fastest in his string, and they would climb high above the sea of dark timber to the cresting whitecapped mountain.

This particular morning started out with a heavy yellow fog and light drizzle. But, by the time Jed had tied the last lead rope to the tail of horse number nine, and hung a bell about Charlie Horse's neck, bringing up the caboose, the sun broke through- in that curious yellow light- bringing a promise of a clear blue sky.