Ryland Creek
  • Ryland Creek
  • About The Ryland Creek Novels
    • Book I: The Last Coon Hunter
    • Book II: An Exceptional Hound
    • Book III: The Legends of Ryland Creek
    • Book IV: The Master of Hounds
    • Book V: The Forest Ghost
    • Book VI: The Time of the Backroads
    • Projects in the Works
  • Buy the Ryland Creek Saga: Print Books
  • The Ryland Creek Saga in E-Book
  • The Ryland Creek Saga in Audiobook
  • Blog: In a place called Painted Post
  • Reader Reviews
  • Meet the Author
  • An Ode to Painted Post
    • The Magical Realism of the Ryland Creek Saga
  • Other authors
    • A.V. Rogers
    • Dave Muffley
    • Dutch Van Alstin
    • Glenn Sapir
    • Judy Janowski
    • Michelle Pointis Burns
  • Contact
  • Ryland Creek
  • About The Ryland Creek Novels
    • Book I: The Last Coon Hunter
    • Book II: An Exceptional Hound
    • Book III: The Legends of Ryland Creek
    • Book IV: The Master of Hounds
    • Book V: The Forest Ghost
    • Book VI: The Time of the Backroads
    • Projects in the Works
  • Buy the Ryland Creek Saga: Print Books
  • The Ryland Creek Saga in E-Book
  • The Ryland Creek Saga in Audiobook
  • Blog: In a place called Painted Post
  • Reader Reviews
  • Meet the Author
  • An Ode to Painted Post
    • The Magical Realism of the Ryland Creek Saga
  • Other authors
    • A.V. Rogers
    • Dave Muffley
    • Dutch Van Alstin
    • Glenn Sapir
    • Judy Janowski
    • Michelle Pointis Burns
  • Contact
Ryland Creek

Of Time Gone By

5/19/2020

2 Comments

 
PictureA portion of the stone wall--all that otherwise remains of a hotel lost to history.

It must have been over forty years ago, he reckoned.

     With his headlamp off, the coon hunter stood alone in the cool, nighttime woods, listening for his black and tan hound, Tye, to open on a raccoon’s trail. He waited patiently, for here was something he’d not seen in a very long time.

​
​     
     In the silver moonlight, the middle-aged man could make out the remains of an old foundation with its stones aligned so perfectly. The full moon had also shone on another fall's night, decades before, offering a warm familiarity, when he’d been but a boy.


     His memory rebuilt the stone foundation that had once supported three wooden walls of a long-abandoned, two-story hotel. Even back then, so long ago, the fourth wall had already fallen to neglect, revealing the inner rooms that hadn't seen a paying guest in many years. That past night, his father had explained the hotel had once served as a way station for teamsters to get fresh horses for their wagons filled with produce as they traveled from nearby Watkins Glen bound for the markets and rail station in Corning, nigh twenty miles away.

     Then, as he was now, they’d been coon hunting. Their bluetick hound, Duke, had searched through that ancient inn’s rooms on both floors. As the then young boy’s flashlight beam played on the interior, his father had explained raccoon had likely been playing in the old building and perhaps even called it their home. Nose down, Duke had traipsed through the dilapidated structure, trying to sort it all out.

     Further, he remembered there had been a decaying wooden sign nearby. Its faded letters still legible back then and had read, “Bridge Out, April 1917.” He could also recall the deteriorating bridge, then still spanning the creek across stone abutments. Tonight, those abutments, and a few rusting steel girders fallen into the creek bed some thirty feet below, acted as the only remaining testament that a bridge had ever been there.

     A ghostly echo of Duke’s triumphant voice sounded in his mind as the bluetick finally figured the track out. The older man smiled, remembering the wonder of it all. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there with that resurrected night from his youth, but the lone hunter sensed something by his side.

     The present had come calling on four legs.

     The coon hunter looked down to see Tye, who'd returned to ensure all was okay. The nearly eight-year-old hound brushed up against the man’s leg, unsure of what had caused his partner’s delay to follow down the trail.

     The man gently placed a hand on his coonhound’s head. “I found a memory, Tye. Go find a ringtail. I’ll be along shortly.”

     Satisfied everything was fine, the faithful dog ran into the night—his image absorbed by the darkness beyond the moonlight’s reach. 

​      A short while later, Tye’s barrel voice rang out in the nighttime, breaking the man’s reverie and reminding him that it was time to honor the commitment and follow his hound wherever that might lead.


     With a flip of a switch, he turned his headlight on and started toward Tye’s beckoning, walking deeper into those woods, each step returning to the now.

     It was going to be a good night.


Picture
A steel girder from a bygone bridge. Once part of a proud structure that had withheld horses and wagons bound with goods and produce, now but a riddle in a creek for those who come upon it.
2 Comments
Tracey Yorio
5/19/2020 11:09:32 am

So awesome! Truly enjoy your gift of writing Joe!

Reply
Edward Williams III link
2/22/2024 12:04:56 pm

Great Story 🥂😊

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply.


    Archives

    April 2025
    March 2025
    February 2025
    January 2025
    November 2024
    October 2024
    September 2024
    August 2024
    July 2024
    June 2024
    May 2024
    April 2024
    March 2024
    February 2024
    January 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020

    Categories

    All
    Animal Life
    History
    Legends
    Plants
    Ryland Creek E Newsletter
    Ryland Creek E-Newsletter
    Self Publishing
    Short Stories
    Trees
    Welcome

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly
Privacy
Terms of Service
Returns