by Ann Patty
She got up and walked over to it and cranked her head up. There stood a silver-white headed old man with a red wrapped blanket around his body. Same sandals, same braid in the hair, exactly the same eyes. It was her friend. The type was faded, so she could not read anything. But that spurred Cairn to go through the entire restaurant to find another. Fortunately, there was only one other elderly couple dining so her odd hunt was doable. Cairn found another similar poster near the restrooms and one more in a far corner. This time she could make out the intent. The 'Chief' was being honored in a local celebration, but it was dated 1965 and it looked like the 'Chief' had not aged.
When Cairn sat back down she was thinking something was not quite right. The waitress brought her food and Cairn asked her, “Do you know anything about these posters, particularly that one about the Chief in the corner over there?”
“No ma’am, I don't. Sorry. Possibly you can go over to the Chamber of Commerce. They are open until 3pm today,” the waitress replied.
Cairn would do that after lunch. Sucking down her shake, Cairn jumped when an older gentleman tapped her table and leaned over. He said, “I hate to intrude, but I heard you inquiring about that poster of the Chief. Can I be so bold to ask you to sit at my wife's and my table? Come, bring your food. I think we can answer your questions.”
Cairn looked at the man and couldn’t believe her good fortune. There was only this couple in the cafe and he was offering information. Cairn shook her head yes, grabbed her vanilla shake and hamburger basket, and joined the couple in their booth.
All at once, they all started talking. Like kids having a party. The older couple was more than happy to talk to an outsider. Cairn was happy to talk to someone as well. After they all settled in, the questions commenced.
“So my wife and I saw you looking at the Chief's poster and were curious why?” asked the gentleman wearing an old suit complete with a tie.
“Well, the Chief as your posters call him, we had a long talk today along the riverbank,” said Cairn.
“Go on,” said the wife all dress in a starched pink and rose patterned dress.
Cairn recalled her conversation and said, “It was as if the Chief came out of nowhere and when we were done talking he disappeared just as easily. Strange. But, he was so amazingly clairvoyant and he provided me a lot of insights especially around animals, which I did not know. Incredible really.”
“Interesting. Many others, mostly visitors here, have had the same experience. The Chief died in 1966, a long time ago. We, Henry and I were fond friends with him. Yes, he had wisdom and insight few possess. It does not surprise us to hear about his animal teachings that he shared with you. He adored all life forms and insisted that animals were messengers from the heavens. Here to teach us what we cannot teach ourselves. Cairn, its okay to close your mouth now,” Helen, Henry's wife said with a smile and a pat on Cairn's hand.
“Wow-o-wow, this is some afternoon. I've never given a lot of thought to synchronicity, but there is something more here than meets this 3D. I mean, what are the odds that you two, the only two who are here in this restaurant and probably the only two able to tell me this. I wonder how many others go away just thinking they talked to a real live person,” Cairn trailed off from what she said.
“Well according to the Chief, it is all real. Both dimensions are just as real. Animals are capable to live in different frequencies and vibrations. In fact... well, I won't go off on my little tangent,” Henry just explained more of what the Chief had said, just in another way. Then he began again, “If you want, you can visit the Chief's grave, up on the hill. You can't miss it as his stature sits larger than life on top,” Henry explained, while he was pointing out the window in the direction of the graveyard.
Right after lunch, Cairn headed for the town graveyard. Sure as shoot there was the Chief's grave. This town had been his and he ruled it with kindness. Animals flocked to his door and not one was turn away. The Chief had a wife, which preceded him in death only by days. Her remains were there beside him in his burial plot. The couple had no children. They were among the last of the tribe from this area.
“Thank you my dear friend for all of your twenty minutes of wisdom, but indefinitely so as you taught me well,” said Cairn smiling upon his grave. The Chief must have listened because the tree standing guard over his grave released at least two-dozen leaves at Cairn's feet. This was June, and not fall season. There would be no reason for leaves to fall from any tree at this time of year. Cairn bent down and picked up a few of the Chief's leaves to take with her. An odd thought swished through her. What if I reminded the Chief of someone he loved. He had no children, only a wife. Perhaps I was likened to a former lover?
Home Stretch
Once back on the road, Cairn drove with silent thoughts. Almost unbelievable as if it weren't all true, this event, or string of events were something to digest. She had to tell Kelly and just then, the phone rang. What better way to kill hours of travel then to tell your best friend about the latest adventure? Cairn told Kelly every little detail and for almost two hours they talked, not just of the Chief but of synchronicity, new age concepts, manifestation and more. Kelly was bursting with pride, because for years Cairn scoffed at her books, tapes, friends and more that were all related to spiritually. Now Cairn had an awakening, due to a few easy events that transpired during her road trip.
Kelly is like most of the authentically spiritually inclined, which knows sacred beliefs cannot be pushed on another. Personal spiritually comes to a person only when they are ready to receive it, and not before. It is not an exclusive cult. Spiritual principles are available to all who seek it. Some find it inside of organized religions. There are many ways to find your soul. No one way is better than the other.
Cairn prattled on about how she felt she was onto something really great. That she was going to be more aware of her path. Kelly bantered back that she thought Cairn's transformation was great, and gently reminded her that it is a process of deepening oneself and it takes years to download. It's like school. A person can never learn it all. The two girls talked themselves out. Kelly had just shot an afternoon's worth of work and didn't care. Cairn was another couple hours down the road, closer to Cliff, but that would be tomorrow.
The Roadhouse Cafe
The final day, the final hours of driving left Cairn numb. She was tired and road weary. She figured she had several hours to go, which might put her at the cafe at about 1pm. Cairn called Cliff, but got his recording, so she left a message for him. The last hours seemed grueling. The terrain had noticeably dried up. Rolling brown hills revealing the start of a drought. The farther west Cairn drove, the uglier it got, in her opinion. The land looked unforgiving and cruel. For the first time Cairn thought about where wild animals might hide. Or do they? Maybe they just get sun fried. The road seemed endless and now it was a drudgery to travel. All the pretty spots seemed to fade away. The temperature on the outside gauge read 98 degrees. An extraordinary temperature for June, Cairn thought, but then remained open that this might be a normal out here in central, eastern Oregon. She reminded herself that this was all an adventure. That she did not have to live here. And anything was doable for a couple weeks. At that she passed a small sign that read, “Drewsey.”
Down the road a ways, the next sign was a sun-bleached piece of cardboard and taped to a box sitting on the ground. The black letters said, “Cafe,” with an arrow pointing off the road. Cairn almost passed it up, but screeched to a halt. Right there in the middle of the highway Cairn put her car in reverse and backed up to where the 'cafe' cutoff was. Darned if she was going any farther down the road to turn around. Fortunately, no traffic came from either direction. Most definitely one of the advantages of living out in Tim-buck-two.
The time was 1:30 under the hot afternoon sun. Cairn drove her dust covered wagon down the lone dirt road. In not to far a distance, appeared a small wood building that appeared weather eroded. A “Cafe” sign perched itself to the left
of the door. It was handmade with relief letters set off from a back-board with a spiked outline. Underneath was a metal sign that read: Cowboy Parking Only. All Others will be Castrated. Cairn laughed then thought: This was probably one of the few places around where you could get away with displaying such a sign without offending anyone. Cairn reached for the door and realized there was another door to her right, so she stepped back to see the bigger sign above the shed roof. This was both a cafe and a saloon; each door served its own clientele.
Cairn walked in the sliver of a cafe with one row of tables. Two young men looked up as she walked to the end booth and flopped down. This was clearly cowboy country. The gentlemen fit the part. Clean cut, except one had a mustache. Both men wore cowboy hats, except one was placed beside them on the table. At certain courtesy still reigned. Both wore long sleeve plaid shirts even in this heat. Most likely they wore their sleeves long for protection from the elements. Each sat in well-worn jeans and cowboy work boots.
Cairn wondered if she had over-dressed or under-dressed for this side of the mountain. The jeans she wore were too clean. Her sleeveless crop top could be taken the wrong way. Instead of boots, she wore flip-flops with blue-painted toenails. And, then her hair. This would have been a real piece of discussion except Cairn was smart enough to hide it under a baseball cap. She figured she could pass as acceptable.
One of the men twisted around in his seat and addressed Cairn. “You're not from around here,” he made a statement rather than a question, then he asked, “Where did you come from?”
“The road,” Cairn replied. “I saw the sign for the cafe. Besides I am to meet Cliff Wallace here. Do you know him?” asking the two men straight out.
The other man wearing a mustache took notice, sat up straight, and pushed the front brim on his hat back as if to get it out of his eyes. His forehead wrinkled as his eye-brow raised and in wasting no time he asked, “How do you know Clifford?”
Cairn was stunned as their bluntness. Did she want to admit that she met Cliff online? Then again, did these guys in this small community already know? Perhaps Cliff kept this private. Cairn felt trapped, so she stretched the truth. “Cliff and I have been conversing for several months. Business affairs.”
“Huh?” was the only thing that came out of the Marlboro man's mouth. He resumed his original posture because the sandwich he had ordered was just put in front of him. His partner turned himself back around as well and attended the food he had ordered. Cairn just stared at the two men not figuring them out. They were busy bodies, but when it came right down to it they cared more about their stomachs. Typical.
The waitress came over to Cairn. “I heard you are looking for our local cowboy, Cliff. He told me you'd be around. Cliff is out ranching today with the cattle, so I'm supposed to call Frank to come get you. He'll show you to Cliff's place. It'll be fine. By the way, I'm Sheila, the cafe owner, server, and sometimes cook if you know what I mean.” Sheila winked, then asked Cairn, “What can I get you? It's on Cliff, bless his soul, so order whatever.”
“Oh, well what I really want is a rum and Coke, can I get that here?” Cairn asked.
“Of course, honey, I will bring it over from the saloon side of the house. Any food? You look like you could use some nourishment,” Sheila asked.
“Well, I could go for a Reuben with big homemade fries if you have it,” Cairn inquired.
Sheila smiled, wrote the order on her small tablet, and said, “You got it. About ten minutes is all.” And then she disappeared into the back.
Cairn strummed her fingers on the table. She didn't want to talk to anymore prying cowboys. She was not in the mood. So she reached in her purse and pulled out the most recent Wall Street Journal and buried her head inside the folds of the newsprint. Cairn got the odd feeling both cowboys looked back at her reading her uppity paper. She didn't look up to check, but wondered what they thought. Perhaps they were too dumb to know the other side of life in the fast lane. Maybe they think I am a stuck-up, high-maintenance city girl. Or, perhaps they both had MBA’s and just choose to live this lifestyle outside the lime-lights of the city. It was certainly hard to exact a person to their profession. One thing Cairn did know was to never judge a book by its cover.
“Here you go with the Reuben. The drink is coming pronto from the bar. And I called Frank. He'll be over in about a half hour. So be sure to eat up, as he does not let any moss grow under his heels,” Sheila was efficient as she was nice.
“Thanks so much Sheila. I really appreciate you taking me under your wing,” Cairn said.
“Oh its nothing. I do hope you are sticking around for a bit,” Sheila replied, smiled, and bounced back into the kitchen like it had a recoil tether on her.
Extreme Cowboy
Cairn sucked down the rum and Coke like it was water. Then she flushed it back with water. The slight buzz she got took the edge of the road off. She just finished the last bite of her sandwich when the cafe door swung open and a huge man figure with a ten-gallon tall hat filled up the doorway. Cairn looked up and stared. Holy cow, this guy was the real deal. His handle bar mustache extended well beyond his cheeks. He had sideburns out of the seventies. Couldn't tell about his hair it might have been tucked up under his tall hat. His red and brown long sleeve plaid shirt was buttoned up so tight it could seal out the wind. A large bandanna of dirty chamois draped around his neck. A belt buckle the size of a dinner plate adorned his waist-line and apparently held up his filthy jeans. When he took a step with his dust covered cowboy boots that were well past their prime, the floor clinked. Long steel spurs ending with roller spikes scrapped across the floor. Only a few steps in and Cairn thought he was dragging a ball and chain. The man was imposing and with a full five o'clock shadow it looked like he slept in his clothes.
The two guys sitting in the booth paled in comparison to this newcomer. Decidedly, Cairn believed the first two were not cowboys after all. The new entry certainly was the real deal. Just as Cairn was assessing and comparing the men, the two lesser cowboys simultaneously greeted the newcomer with, “Hey Frank,” and, “What's going on big guy?”
Cairn couldn't believe her luck. This guy was going to show her to Cliff's house and she was already intimidated by him.
“You Cairn?” Frank said in a deep gravely voice. He had already ascertained that this was Cairn, but had to state the obvious.
“Yes, and I've got that you are Frank,” Cairn stated this as a fact.
“Well, if you are done, you can follow me to Cliff's place. You know he won't be home ‘til after dark,” Frank was outlining all the obvious.
“Yes, that is correct. And, yes, we can go,” Cairn pulled out an ample five dollar tip and set it on the table.
Once back on the highway they turned left, heading back the way Cairn had come in. But the freeway was short lived and yielded to a dirt road turn off where they followed the ups and downs for about fifteen miles. Cairn's Subaru had no problem keeping up with Frank's old pick up that seemed to labor up every little hill. Cairn just shook her head. What next? Here she was out in the middle of sparse brown covered hills, with little vegetation void of green. Not a store in sight, this was down right creepy for a girl that needed a city fix.
Twelve miles later, Frank pulled off the dirt road onto another that was barely audible. This was where the road ruts began. Some of the wash outs were so deep that Cairn had to carefully ride the ridges. She had all-wheel drive, but it was no match for the depths of these ruts. Now it was beyond slow going. If you cared at all for preserving your car you needed to creep it along or get out and walk. Not only were the ruts incorrigible, but the road dust was powder fine encouraging drivers to roll up all windows. That was no problem for Cairn as the windows were already up because the air conditioner was on.
This short stint of road yielded to another turn, which lead to a lonely big yard surrounded by almost barren hills. A pine tree sat scattered here and there. Frank stopped his truck and got out. Cairn pulled up behind
him and also got out of her car. Before them stood the monstrous framework of a gallant old barn, past its prime. Weathered vertical boards showed signs of a well-faded red paint also beyond its prime.
“Here's where I leave you,” Frank said somberly.