March of 1964

"Oh, great. What's next?" Irene and Jack watched the news coverage of the world's first Muscle Car, new faster and more powerful cars with larger engines. The Pontiac GTO was displayed on the screen.

Jack smiled. "I like it," he said.

"It's pretty," Irene agreed. "But these kids are gonna get hurt with that thing. And they'll be racing on the streets, where they'll kill somebody else!"

"Well, let's see what happens," Jack said.

"You don't trust the police to find shoes in a shoebox, Jack," Irene pointed out. "So how can you trust them to stop kids from street-racing?"

"Well, there's nothing I can do about any of this," Jack said.

Irene left the room.

That Summer, Ford introduced their own Muscle Car, the Mustang. Irene didn't tell anyone, but she thought it was just beautiful. She really liked it.

Jack loved it. It was too late to go through a mid-life crisis for him. He was close to the age of seventy. He felt fifty, though. He didn't feel old at all, really. He felt that he was ready for anything.

Jack and Irene still rode their horses on the trails in Tall Trees, which was sadly shrinking. Trees were being cut down for houses and paper and to make room for other buildings. Manzanita Trading Post was now a rest stop and gas station, Manzanita Stop-And-Go.

What had happened to Jack's world? Jack felt like he was on a runaway train and there was no stopping it. There were no brakes on it at all and nobody in control of it. Jack missed the world he had grown up in and would give anything to have it back, even the horses and slower cars. Jack and Irene felt like they were lost in the modern world.

"The Ballad of Ira Hayes" played on the radio as Irene read a book in the living room. It had now been eight months since John F. Kennedy had been assassinated and people were arguing over whether Oswald really was the culprit. Irene stayed out of the fight. She couldn't do anything about it anyway. Jack mocked the government for being so stupid and being unable to prove anything at all. He was still very distrusting of the government. That would likely remain for the rest of his life.

The evening was beautiful. Irene and Jack rode into Tall Trees. They rode past Tanner's Reach, where a small abandoned cabin once stood. It had been torn down several years ago. They rode onto Aurora Basin, one of the very few areas of Tall Trees that was still untouched and exactly like both Jack and Irene remembered. They tied the horses and stood on the small dock. Jack stood behind Irene with his arms around her waste and held her against him.

"Look at that sunset," Irene said. "Isn't is lovely? I'll miss this place when it's gone."

"Do you think that will happen?," Jack asked. "Some of this land may surely be preserved, now that all these tree-huggers are making a fuss over it."

"Who knows?," Irene said. "Times are moving so fast. Our kids grew up so fast, it's like they were never children. Now; our two oldest are married, the oldest has a child, we're grandparents, and the twins will likely be out soon. What do we do when we're alone again?"

"What we did before, but visit the kids and grandkids," Jack replied.

Irene laughed a little at that. "I'm tired," she said. "I need the rest."

"So do I," Jack replied. "We'll take a long vacation soon. Just you and me. How does that sound? We'll go someplace warm, like Miami or even Hawaii."

"No Hawaii," Irene said. "I don't wanna be anywhere near any volcano."

"OK," Jack grinned. "Miami? Galveston?"

"We'll decide later," Irene said.

At home, the twins were watching a new show called "Leave It To Beaver," which Irene hated. Kassidy and Shawn came in from the guest-house. Kassidy offered to help her mother prepare dinner while the men all gathered in front of the television. Except for Jack didn't really like television or movies all that much. When he was a teenager, he preferred to read. Now, he had practically no hobbies. His days as a bounty-hunter were over. He no longer spoke to schools and colleges about the Wild West, though Irene did. She wanted people to see the truth behind these pointless western movies.

Irene also loathed the fact that these movies were cruel to the horses that were used. These horses were not trained. A trip-wire was used when the script called for a horse to fall. Many horses were seriously injured and even killed. Irene hated John Wayne. That man was no cowboy and he was a lousy actor.

Irene didn't really have a favorite actor, but did not watch movies with John Wayne. She wished people would see the truth: he only cared about the money. She had even heard that he was afraid of horses in real life. That would not surprise her. He surely was no Jack Marston or John Marston. His real name, she learned, was Marion Morrison.

The rain pounded on the window one night as Irene had trouble sleeping. She moved and tried to get comfortable, waking Jack from a sound sleep.

"What's the matter?," Jack asked as he sat up, his long hair now down loose and cascading past his shoulders.

"I don't know," Irene replied. "Something is keeping me from sleeping, but I can't quite pinpoint what the hell is bothering me."

Jack touched Irene's arm and then took her hand. "Try to relax, baby," he said. "Maybe it was just a bad dream that you can't remember. That happens to us all. We have a disturbing dream that we never can remember. It leaves our mind as soon as we wake up."

"Maybe," Irene replied, still unsure. "There's just something bothering me so badly."

"Is it one of the kids?," Jack asked.

"I don't know," Irene replied.

Jack hugged Irene back against his chest. "Try not to worry so much, babe," he said. "Try to calm down and relax. Get some sleep. You need it."

Irene sighed and closed her eyes.

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