by Ann Patty
“Wha... what do you mean?” Cairn asked, quite confused.
“This is Cliff's place. It's where he lives,” at that, Frank hopped back in his truck and disappeared.
Cairn put her hands to her head. I can't believe this. What was I thinking? Shit, a barn? Okay get a grip. It's not the end of the world. I can sleep in my car for a night or two until I figure my way out of here. Cairn walked around and over to where the road was then more logic came to her: It was not even possible to leave. Only a tracker could find their way back out. There were no tire tracks out unless one followed the ruts, but there were ruts everywhere. Cairn resolved that she was stuck waiting for Cliff, no matter how long it took.
The Barnyard
To each his own, and Cairn bid Frank a farewell by flipping him off. She didn't think he saw it as he was around the corner and gone. Anyway, Cairn didn't care if he did see her flip him off, because she meant every strained muscle offered from it. With a bottle of water taken from the back seat, Cairn sucked it down within minutes. Surveying the place, she thought it was beyond rough. The barn was a Gambrel style roof-top, with both sides having a shed roof. The barn was massive. No wonder it had foregone a paint job on a regular basis. The roof was green metal and looked to be adequate. Despite the initial impression, the structure was solid. Cairn took in everything.
The farm-yard had two broken down trucks up on jack stands. They did not look worth repairing. Time and pot shots from using them as a target practice did not let them weather well either. Otherwise the yard was clean. There was a carcass pile of vehicle parts stowed under one side of the barn wing roof. There was a hefty hitching post in front of the barn. For visiting cowboys on horseback she surmised. A single willow tree stood tall over-top as much needed shade. It must have gotten watered often to survive this arid climate. There was also a half-barrel full of water and a hose leading out of it to a spigot.
The barn's twelve-foot high doorway was draped with Christmas lights in every color. The doors were slid open on either side. Cairn wondered if they ever got closed. But on second thought, who would bother coming down that road and it did not appear that there was anything to steal but a mound of hay sitting in the center of the barn. Cairn walked over to it and ran her hand across the bales. The grass was stiff, not even green. Why would anyone feed that to their animals? Furthermore why would the animals even eat it? Unless they were starving. Cairn looked under the west wing side. What looked like a brand new tractor was parked with an assortment of implements. Cairn didn't know much about equipment, but this tractor and all the attachments looked quite pricey. Maybe there was money in being a cowboy? There was more man stuff stored on this side, stuff Cairn had no clue about except she figured most all of it was for running a farm. At the end of this shed roof was an enclosed room. It was good sized and occupied a third of the wing. Cairn could not get in to see its contents. It was locked. Maybe later.
The other shed roof was split into sections; many stall sections, perhaps eight. Then Cairn understood. A white horse with a dark mane and tail walked into the barn. He looked as curious at Cairn as she did at him. The horse stuck his head over the half wall and pushed his nose out towards Cairn. She backed off, but then remembered the words of the Chief. Cautiously she stepped up to the nose the horse and reached out. His nose was velvet. Cairn had never touched anything so soft in all her life. It made her smile. And in just that moment, she believed she was talking to this horse. A few more pats on the nose, then she slid her hand under his forelock and down the front of his face. Then repeated the petting several times. The horse liked it, but pushed his nose at Cairn as if not satisfied. Cairn got it. She was asking for food.
She looked around and saw that stiff hay and thought, no. She looked down to the end of the shed row roof and around the corner was another large stack of unmistakable hay. Green, pliable, with a smell like fresh mowed grass, it had to be hay. Cairn took a handful and return to her new friend. She placed the hay in a corner feed bin. The horse took right to it. Another horse showed up in another stall beside its friend. This one was tall, lean, and solid dark brown to black. Not a speck of white on it.
Cairn made the short trip down the aisle to retrieve more hay. Then a group of black cows came roaming in. They occupied four of the stalls that were not separated out. This shed roof let the cows roam out of the heat of the day, plus they had a huge yard outside too. And when Cairn looked so did both the horses. In fact the white horse had a nice shade tree in its paddock. The two horses were separated out from one another, and definitely away from the cows. There seemed to be a logic that ruled how barns are utilized. Cairn didn't know anything about farm life, but her sense of organization saw that Cliff was an efficient person. There was equipment, but mostly there was livestock and food to feed them.
At one end of the barn, at the back end, Cairn saw a staircase. It was nondescript, but had a hefty wooden planks for steps. There must be an upstairs because there was much more roof to that the height of the lower barn ceiling. Cairn figured she had all day so exploring was a must. She was sure Cliff wouldn't mind. Stepping up the stairs, shadows of the late afternoon sun streamed into the barn. Cairn grabbed the handrail for support. At the top there was a grand door made of cedar planking and it was fitting because it was rough-cut. Cairn grabbed the door-knob hoping it was open. It was.
The large door swung easy and Cairn stepped inside. Light was timidly streamed inside the row of windows from both sides. Cairn felt around on the wall and found a light switch and flipped all switches on. Blessed be, for before her was a complete home. Cairn put one hand to her mouth. She was shocked. Cliff's home was actually somewhat of a comfortable place. And it was huge because it occupied the whole top of the barn. She couldn't wait and, if fact, needed to snoop. The kitchen beyond the entry living room had an oversize eating area. Oversize because the table was made of ten-foot finished planks and had eight chairs to match. No doubt family visited often. The cupboards seemed to be an old style. However, they were really camouflaged by a dark green stain scraped to the undercoat for effect. The lower drawers and base cabinets were painted a complimentary red with the same antique type finish. The appliances all were aged, but had been repainted in turquoise. Somehow all the colors worked together. The kitchen was cheery and with an adornment of fresh sunflowers deserved to be in a farm-house magazine.
The good size living area met you as you came in the door. A wood stove centrally located, heated the whole upstairs. The furniture was worn. Blankets were tossed over the two couches. Some cushion covers exposed bare threads right down to the Styrofoam. These sofas had seen better days. The coffee table to kick your feet up on was made from old barn wood, as were the end tables. There was no television or computer screens anywhere. This was the boondocks, so Cairn figured there was no reception.
Beyond the living room and the kitchen came one, big bathroom. Yes, there was just one bathroom. But it was large and well thought out. It contained three smaller rooms with doors: a separate shower room; a tub soaking room; and toilet room. The two-sink vanity was all alone in the outside area and served all three little rooms. Cairn had never seen a bathroom as practical or all-purpose as this one; obvious in that it served several people simultaneously. She took a couple of pictures with her phone to show the folks back home.
To accommodate company and family there were four bedrooms. The master was obvious. It had a queen bed, plus a couple of antique dressers and a large walk in closet. Cairn wondered if she would be sleeping in the master room that night. The other three bedrooms had a combination of two twin or full size beds each. Simple well worn to almost beat up dressers matched the rough hewn home.
Then it dawned on Cairn that Cliff said he had four boys plus visiting grand kids. A house full. This house was not glamorous. It was designed for pragmatic living; a smart application for accommodating visitors. All in all, the house was completely serviceable. It had your typical drywall, although rough, and some walls wer
e covered with cedar for the farm effect. Either that or cedar was just handy. Everything in the house was somewhat eclectic. Cairn figured Cliff bought from garage sales, or some might have been family heirlooms. It was not her tastes, but what the heck this beat sleeping in her car. She gargled a silly laugh thinking of how she would tell Kelly about sleeping in a barn. Just then Cairn looked at her phone and saw no bars. Now she was feeling like a caged cat.
Confrontation
It was too impossibly hot outside, so Cairn went and got minimal overnight accessories out of her car. The afternoon had slipped away and five o'clock had even come and gone. Cairn sat down in the lazy boy recliner, leaned back, and fell promptly asleep. She didn't hear Cliff's footsteps on the wooden floor as he approached her. He hesitated to wake Cairn. After two minutes, he feasted his eyes on this lean, to be blue-eyed beauty. Then the cowboy leaned over Cairn and ran his fingers down her arm. She jumped, sucking in air, then coughed. When she was fully awake she smiled. Kicking back the chair extension, Cairn got up. She wasn't sure what to do next except say the obvious, “Cliff?”
“In the flesh, come here Cairn,” Cliff directed and he held his open arms outstretched. Cairn took two steps to get into his arms and threw her own arms around him. They held each other until awkwardness crept in and they let go and stepped back. Cliff said, “Here, let me look at you. Say what's with the Mohawk hair do? Huh? What's with the outrageous red?” His eyes bulged, his cheeks flushed, as if he was expecting something else.
“Well, what you see is what you get Cliff. My stylist got a bit carried away. That is why I cover it with a baseball cap,” Cairn explained as she pointed to her baseball cap on the recliner.
“Oh. I see,” Cliff went quiet. He walked over to the stove, opened the door, and then let itself slam shut. Cliff strode to the refrigerator and opened it. He stared at a brown paper wrapped, uncooked roast. Then he went off, “See the roast in here? It doesn't get any fresher. I was hoping to come home to dinner. Cooked that is. Do ya think you could get it going while I clean up?” Cliff spoke surprisingly unrestrained, yet in a nice tone, but his words said otherwise.
“Well, sure, I guess I could get dinner going for us. Didn't know what you wanted it, otherwise I could have got it going earlier. Anything else you want to accompany the roast?” Cairn asked a bit baffled.
Cliff just waved his hand off as if to say take care of it, and then left for the shower room. Cairn seasoned the hunk of meat and found some potatoes to bake, and green lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes to make a salad. She busied herself putting the dinner together all the while inside she was festering at Cliff's comments and expectations. The more she prepared dinner the madder she got. Early on Cairn told Cliff she didn't eat beef. Was the cowboy selfish, diffident, or just clueless? No matter. In Cairn's opinion ignoring a guest's request was just plain thoughtless.
When Cliff reappeared from his shower he was running a towel across the top of his hair. When he was done he said, “Ah, much better. When's dinner ready?”
That did it. Cairn wanted to beat him with an iron skillet right then. This was not the sweet silly Cliff of phone conversations that she knew. It was a man acting out that he needed a mother. When Cliff dropped the towel off, now Cairn had cause to ridicule so she said, “Oh my god! Oh my god! Look at your NO hair on the top of your cradle cap. Cliff I'm afraid you misrepresented yourself in your profile. Your tall cowboy hat covered up that your hair is thinning. Okay, are we even now?” Cairn toyed with being a bit sarcastic, but kept her voice lighthearted. But, she meant every word like he had.
“What? You want to talk about misrepresentation lil Missy?” Cliff bit back. “All your profile pics were in black and white, what's a guy to think? And you had long, normal hair. That is what I like,” Cliff was shaking his head.
“Well, I like a man with hair. Not one who only shows part of the story, if you know what I mean,” Cairn took his challenge and didn't back down. “Furthermore treating me like your little woman doesn't work for me. Cook your own f-ing roast. In fact, I hate roast because I am a vegetarian. Cliff you better get over your expectations of me or this so ain't going to work,” Cairn was strong in her words and stood tall as she talked. She just spent two months getting to know someone she did not know at all. Now what?
“Okay, okay. Suppose we got off on the wrong foot here. I apologize Cairn. I do. It's no excuse, but I'm tired and having you here got me excited in the wrong way,” Cliff lowered and softened his voice. Just then the oven buzzer went off.
Cairn smiled and looked at him realizing she just saw his vulnerabilities. The she spoke, “Cliff, come on over and carve the roast so we can eat.” Like a submissive puppy dog, Cliff complied. Within minutes, the table was set with silverware, plates, and bowls of food. Cliff brought the carved roast over to the table. The two sat down. Cliff was taking a piece of prime rib cut thick and placing it on Cairn's plate. Then he stopped and looked pensive, almost guilty.
Cairn tapped his hand to leave it and said, “When in cowboy country, at least try what he eats.” Cairn smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“Okay, then. Bon appetite?” Cliff said and smiled warmly. After a rough start, the rest of the dinner went well. Cliff even noticed that Cairn was eating the meat she claimed to hate. So he had to say something, “Meat pretty good or are you just being polite?”
Cairn engrossed in her dinner, looked up and without a beat said, “I'm being polite.” After a few more mouthfuls of salad and scrapping her baked potato clean, Cairn rested back in her chair and announced, “But, I'll admit Mr. Cow is pretty darn tasty.” Both Cliff and Cairn started to laugh. A clear-cut tension breaker to end their squabble.
Cairn got up and carried dishes to the sink. Cliff followed in unison. There was no dishwasher, except for the four hands present. So Cliff washed while Cairn dried. It was Cliff who first broached what was on both their minds. “Cairn, I'm not sure what to do about our sleep arrangements. You can take the master bedroom or any bedroom if you want. I don't know if it is premature to ask you to sleep with me yet, or not.” Cliff was thoughtful and not even hopeful because he was not sure of his attraction to Cairn.
Cairn was grateful he brought the sleep subject up first. She replied, “You know I'm thinking that I will take one of the kids rooms for tonight, maybe more, until we both settle in to see how we do. That way there are no pressures, or expectations. It'll give us time.”
Cliff almost breathed a sigh of relief then said, “This online dating is kinda a different breed. Especially way out here. If you lived down the road I could take and wine and dine you at the local restaurants. Get to know you—in the flesh—a little at a time, if you know what I mean.”
“Yup, I know exactly what you mean, Cliff. It's almost like having a mail order bride out here in the outback, but it's not. There is a lot to be said for proximity. I will tell you this. I have dated a whole lot of guys in the city, but none were attached to the adventure that I've had on the trek here. So, Cliff so far you are my best date.” Cairn sincerely meant what she said and leaned over and kissed Cliff on the cheek. He blushed. Cairn put her dish-towel down, and then said, “I need to turn in for the night. I'm road weary. If you don't mind I'll take the bedroom to the left of yours tonight. Got my stuff in it.”
“Of course. Please be comfortable and do whatever makes you happy here. Good night,” Cliff called after Cairn as she waved going into the bedroom. By 9pm, both were sound asleep.
Immortal Warrior
Dawn came early, too early for what Cairn was accustomed to. Cairn sat up in her bed and looked out the eye-level window to her right. The rolling hills unmoved from the prior day were still brown grass gone dry. The sun was just breaching over the hill and piercing the night into daylight. Cairn marveled at how this terrain was so entirely different from any other she had seen. The landscape was, like, naked. Not Saudi Arabia desolate, but barren all the same. No precipitation equaled an environment void of green, and it was gree
n that could turn a wasteland into utopia. If it were not for some boulders and scattered, sporadically placed trees here and there the terrain would be unfit.
Cairn could hear Cliff's boots across the floor, so she called out from her sitting position topped with covers in bed, “Cliff. Are you there?” Of course he was.
“Yes, my pumpkin head,” Cliff swung around the corner of the door jam and jeered, “Would you like a cup of java in the sack?” He offered lightly.
“Gosh, yes. I'd love one thanks, Mr. Mushroom Top,” Cairn kidded. She could not help herself and wonder if she made him mad as he promptly disappeared around the corner. She could hear footsteps go here and there then back toward her room.
Cliff had a large cup, steaming hot, in his hands. He bent over and placed it in Cairn’s hands tenderly. “Careful, it is over the top hot. Here take this towel, too,” Cliff offered.