Ghost Rider
He came from the plains in the heat of the day
	the rocks and the cactus all steamed
I saw him far off . . . a man on a horse
	like a ghostly mirage . . . he seemed
He kept riding on ‘til he stopped by the barn
	yet neither the horse . . . nor he
Would drink from the well and I wondered "pray tell"
	. . . what kind of pair this could be
The desert was empty for near thirty miles
	no water or shade . . . anywhere
Yet neither was thirsty . . . I couldn't help think
	. . . who could survive . . . out there
Why had they come here and where were they going
	. . . only the desert could tell
Their ghostly appearance had caused me to guess
	they were going or coming from hell
The silence was broke as the man quietly spoke
	"I came in reply to your need"
"I'm known as the best . . . if you'd care to test
	and also the best is my steed"
I still can't explain why I didn't refrain
	from hiring a man I can't pay
But quickly I said "you've a job and a bed
	unpack all your gear sir . . . and stay"
He worked steers and cows and it seemed that somehow
	they minded his voice . . . not his whip
I once saw him shoot the head off a snake
	. . . he drew and shot straight from the hip
The wood was all cut and the fences were mended
	. . .I saw not him chop or string wire
My wife and I prayed that we not be dismayed
	by the man that was now in our hire
The small ranchers knew that only we few
	had fenced in the land that we bought
"Fencing must go" . . . the big owner said
	"or else a range war will be fought"
Stark was his name . . . the big owner came
	when the Indians were still on a tear
He'd conquered the land and now couldn't stand
	the fencing of land anywhere
He called for a meeting in town to decide
	if we'd fight or sell out and just leave
The small ranchers met at my house in hope
	an alternate plan they'd conceive
Reluctantly I had invited the stranger
	I remember . . . surprised that he came
Ghost Rider now was the name he was called
	but not to his face . . . a nickname
After an hour or two planning in vain
	it seemed that there wasn't a way
Then Ghost Rider stood . . . and he said let's all kneel
	and silently each of us pray
The meeting was ended and all had decided
	we'd go into town just as planned
That night as I prayed . . . I asked for God's help
	tomorrow we'd be far out manned
Next day as we rode into town there they stood
	about thirteen hired guns around Stark
Ghost Rider rode far ahead ‘til he stopped
	beside Stark . . . and made a remark
He said "Sir don't move . . . in the Church steeple there
	three angels have drawn a fine bead"
I looked ‘round to see . . . but saw not the three
	yet Stark somehow quickly agreed.
He told all the rest . . . . . to lay down their guns
	but several had started to draw
Guns flashing . . . shells firing . . . bullets around
	I couldn't believe what I saw
The Stranger fired six shots straight from the hip
	while reaching to pick up Stark's gun
The six shots hit six guns not yet fully drawn
	then quickly the Ghost Rider spun
He emptied Stark's gun and all found their mark
	now twelve men were fully unarmed
Stark and the thirteenth man reached for the sky
	we fired not a shot . . .no one harmed
I couldn't believe . . . the stranger not hit
	as bullets had flown all around
I stood there in awe . . . and finally I saw
	some drops of his blood on the ground
He mounted his horse and began to explain
	he hadn't been sent there to kill
He said in the end . . . he'd been just a friend
	to help God accomplish His Will
The blood dripped a trail as he rode out of town
	we stared a long time through the haze
All that took place in the last several weeks
	was now in my mind just a maze
I never saw angels up high in the steeple
	but Ghost Rider might have been one
Or just a mirage . . . when the rocks and the cactus
	make steam . . . in the hot noon-day sun.

Poem by Ron Baron
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