It was the same year that Jack and Violet died, just three days apart at the ages of 96 and 94 that the dove arrived, pure white, just like Jack’s thick crop of hair. The likeness did not go unnoticed by the great nephew, Lance, who had inherited the ranch. He built a ramshackle cage and put out feed daily for the white bird. At times, the bird joined him in the house, perching on the fireplace mantle where it would stare at the photo of Uncle Jack. We were suspicious that Uncle Jack was embodied in that white dove, perching above all, watching the goings on of the ranch. He was always her protectorate and now he was back, keeping an eye on things.

The dove walked freely among the dogs and cat, garnering some kind of deference from the animals who never approached or sniffed, but stood aside with quiet reverence. Visitors looked in awe at the dove that came to stay. I think the dove lingered for more than year before the inevitable happened. A visiting hunting dog lunged and took off its head in a single snap of her jaws, leaving a stunned silence among all observers.

We like to think that it was time. That Jack had kept his vigil long enough to make sure all was well with his beloved mountain abode. That this time his death would be final. A few years later, Lance arranged for the release of a flock of doves over the wedding parties of his two children. The doves took off, circled once overhead and turned toward home. Perhaps it was one of that very flock that took a left turn toward the mountains that day, catching up Jack’s spirit on the way as it went to watch for awhile over Silver Links Ranch.