The barn my husband and I built stands quiet in the dusk. The sun is setting and releasing brilliant fire in the sky. Barry, my husband, sees this sunset - and all the sunsets yet to come - from the other side ... heaven’s side.

This is a tribute to my “gone from these earthly green pastures,” hard- working and adventurous cowboy, Barry ... my partner, my teacher, my guiding light, the love of my life.

Our dreams and our barn were filled just months ago. And now, the dreams stay dreams. The barn, once filled with four horses, now holds only two. Barry’s meticulously trained horses, Sonny and Scotch, have gone to new caring homes. I could not bear the thought of letting them stand unused and wild in the pasture. Horse trailers came up the driveway and took each one away. I consider myself lucky to be able to hang onto my horses Chief and Chance. An empty barn would break my heart, if it could break any more. The big fancy horse trailer we purchased last spring went down the driveway too. I mustn’t think of the planned trips not yet taken with the trailer ... rather I need to focus on the many lovely memories made with it!

Barry had cowboy in his blood. On a whim and a long time ago, I discussed buying a horse. That first horse came into my life and opened barn doors for Barry and me. This hobby became our passion and our life. To watch Barry in the round pen with Sonny and Scotch brought such contentment for both of us. I’d perch on a bench and admire how Barry gracefully put his horses through exercises – sharing fine-tuned communication. I take the lazy way out and prefer to hop on and go. Barry would tell me, “Elizabeth Anne ... don’t set yourself up for failure ... you need to work with Chief in the round pen ... teach him manners and ensure he respects you as leader.” Nah ... let’s just ride!

Our passion was to camp and ride forest trails. I miss watching Barry ahead on the trail, stopped, donning his glasses to read the trail map since we’d usually end up deep in the middle of nowhere.

No way can a blip of an article capture the wondrous and amazing person Barry was. He loved adventure and the outdoors. He had such unbreakable bonds with his horses – mutual trust and respect. He was my best friend. In my eyes, Barry could do anything and he knew everything.

Two months after Barry’s funeral, I went into the tack room. I caressed Barry’s new saddle used only a handful of times and reminisced about my cowboy and our fabulous adventures. I opened his saddles bags ... there were his reading glasses and the trail map. We were blest to make memories on that last trip since Barry was killed only three weeks later (that was the trip when a black bear roamed through camp). And now Barry’s cowboy boots and hat sit beside the barn door as homage to a fine man ... an incredible gift in my life.

Scotch went through a grieving process. This handsome gentle giant became confused and unruly – he even broke out of cross ties while I brushed him. He knew his life was changed; he lost the leader he trusted.

And now Chief must learn to be a lone horse on the trails around our farm. Chief does not care one bit for this new arrangement, and I don’t either. Possibly this change can make us better together? Time will tell.

I could not stay motivated if it weren’t for angels in my life ... magnificent friends, fellow cowgirls and cowboys. They knew and loved Barry. We will be toasting to Barry by a campfire deep in the forest one day soon. And we will shed tears for all our loved ones who were received home.

To this day I hear Barry whisper, “Elizabeth Anne ... don’t set yourself up for failure ...”

What does my future with horses hold? I’m not sure. As long as Barry’s amazing spirit is by my side, I’m hoping I’ll be on the trails again as he is riding above!!!

Happy trails, my love!

Barry L. Dore 1949-2008