Just My Personal Opinion, Of Course...

[Her mother and Rushing Water] decided that it would be best if she left without ever letting the tribe know what had happened to her... It was in the early dawn of the morning, the water was cool in the creek as an Apache squaw bathed in the nude, her hair glistening as the sun peeped over the horizon... Suddenly Rushing Water heard a noise behind her, as she looked over her shoulder of long black glistening hair expecting to see a rabbit, she instead saw two Mexicans smiling at her with their eyes open wide as if in the state of surprise or shock... She was at the center of the creed and started to wade as fast as she could to the east bank where she entered the creek every morning... Rushing Waterf felt her hair being yanked as her head fell back...she struggled but without success as she was snatched up backwards by her hair and waist being pulled across the Mexican's horse, Rushing Water was screaming but knew that her screams could not be heard... As the months slo

Many times an abused or troubled child will not find saving grace in their midst--not at home, not at school, not in their neighborhood. They may have to dream a little, look beyond their nightmare, look to another source of strength (whether it be real or not) and reach for heroes who are... more than angels... --Foreword Ruby's trilogy shared about the abuse she and her siblings received in their childhood... Ruby was able to find words from characters of a TV program to help her make it through it all... ~~~ It was 2005 that I first started reading Ruby... I was doing a little more than reviewing at that time, so I was reading her manuscript of the first book in the More Than Angels series , There was one thing I immediately noticed about the book. I became so curious that I wrote and asked her if I was right... She wrote back and told me I was the only one that had ever caught on to the reference...  For some reason, perhaps that one, we began a bonding friendship... Th

I WAS STANDING BEHIND the bench and to the right. “You returned,” said the prophet, without any movement of his head, but still maintaining his gaze into the distance. He couldn’t possibly have seen me, but he knew I was there. It was something I could never get used to…being with someone you felt could, at any given time, see through you. “Why?” he asked, still gazing toward the waters. “Why did you return?” “Because,” I replied, “you’re the only one who can give me the answer.”  “To what?” he asked. “To the problem.”  “To what problem?” “To the problem of you.” “I’m the only one who can answer the problem of me?” he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “I don’t know, Nouriel; it sounds like a paradox to me.”  “Am I wrong?” I asked. “No,” he replied. “You’re not wrong.” I joined him on the bench. It was only then that he broke his gaze to look at me. “But are you ready?” he asked.  “For…?” “The answer.”  “I hope so.” “Then let’s begin. You’re a journalist; did yo