by Ann Patty
“No matter what I say, you are a doll, Cliff,” Cairn stated this sincerely, with a small smile, and then said, “So what's on your agenda today? Do you want dinner tonight? I assume you do...” Cairn was questioning her status for the day.
Cliff, now sitting at the foot of her bed with a hand on one of her extended feet said, “This morning I am off. More branding up at the neighbor’s place. I'll take you there on a short day. Probably will be back late afternoon, so dinner would be great. But I'll make it easy on you. The rib roast makes sweet French dip and all the makins are in there, so keep it simple cuz this evening I will put you on Bluebird.”
“Bluebird?” Cairn inquired.
“Yup, Bluebird. He's the white-flecked equine with a darker mane and tail. He would not hurt a fly. You'll see,” Cliff patted Cairns foot, got up from the bed, and walked out the door saying, “Enjoy yourself Cairn, nothing is off limits, but I wouldn't suggest saddling up one of the steers just yet. Just sayin',” Cliff winked.
“Yes, boss. Have a safe day,” Cairn was rather relieved that she could have time to her lonesome self and not be bossed around. Cliff and her had some adjusting to do if they were going to spend a week or two together... that is if he didn't get fed up and ask her to leave. Although, admittedly this short morning interlude went rather well.
Cairn observed that how they had spoke on the phone was a far cry from how they communicated in person. Even the range of their voice was off. Over the phone it was like they grew to be blind lovers thirsting for salvation. Using endearing terms of love, dear, baby, sweetie, and more they defined their affection for one another. Cairn wondered if long, dark, lonely nights bred a lusting to connect with another from afar. Now, here in this place, their voices had expectations, an edge, their words stiff, and they ribbed one another like brother and sister. And despite Cliff's balding cap, he still resembled his picture. In fact his picture did not do him justice. Cairn hoped Cliff thought the same in return of her.
By mid-morning, Cairn could see how lonely life could be out in No-wheres-ville if you didn't have an agenda. After taking a fresh look around the barn top to bottom and the outside, the only thing left was to climb a hill for a vantage point. Many hills surrounded Cliff's farm, but up on one hill Cairn spotted life standing abruptly tall. The figure was standing directly in the sun, blocking a daylight view of him. Sun-rays poked out around the man figure. He raised his hand and Cairn returned the gesture. Someone to talk to was welcome so Cairn set off on foot, while he waited in place.
The hill climb was plenty, but Cairn was in shape—gym shape. The foot-hold was solid and not so steep a person had to grab onto dirt with all fours. The man stood still with his arms folded. Cairn could now see that he had dark, possibly long hair and a long feather poked out of one side. He dressed in light colored linen garments with a red sash draped over his shoulder, like one would carry a blanket. Something practical for the weather if it were to turn. The hill got steeper so Cairn had to put her head down and concentrate on her footing. For fifteen minutes, she climbed until she was sure the summit was near. Cairn raised her head up only to find no one near. Determined to make contact, Cairn pushed herself to get to the top within ten minutes.
Cairn stood on the mound, which gave a clear view of the valley around. Nowhere was the man in sight. Certainly his age would have slowed his descent. She did not know for certain that he was older, but to Cairn, the man seemed ancient. Looking in every direction, and being keen to every movement Cairn concluded the man disappeared... just like the last one she encountered. Looking down to her feet a woven red blanket piece lay in the dirt. Cairn put her fingers on the cloth and picked it up. The sun had bleached the once red to pink. The fibers were loose from the weather. The white fringe on the edge was eaten by the elements. The piece was about 8 x 8 inches. Cairn didn't know what to make of it being out here on the top of this hill where the elements could have easily swept it away and hidden it inside one of the many valleys. Just then Cairn's phone rang and made her jump. She peeled it out of her back pocket to see it was Kelly. And, it had full bars connecting her to the rest of the real world.
“Kelly... Kelly are you there? Good. I am so happy to talk to you. Do you know where I am? I'm in no man's land sitting on top of a giant molehill so I can talk to you,” Cairn said.
“That's funny Cairn. You sound like you are out of yourself, or beside yourself, or... is something wrong?” Kelly tuned into Cairn's comments.
“Wrong isn't the word for it. Weird is. What do you think of this: I'm isolated on the farm because Cliff is off on another ranch today. His house offers nothing. No Internet. No reception. Nothing. So I'm wandering outside and I see this man on the hill and he waves me up. I figure why not, as I'm not doing anything better. He waits for me, but when I get here he vanished. I mean he is nowhere in sight and I can see everywhere from this hill. Then I look down and there is this woven blanket piece at my feet. And then you ring me up loud and clear,” Cairn explained herself until she was out of breath.
Kelly thought during Cairn's pause then said, “Perhaps this man is an apparition like the other. To send a message to you and he did. He told you where to go to reconnect with the outside world. I don't know what to make of the fabric left behind, or if it is even related to all this coincidence. Hold onto it just in case it means something.”
“Kelly, being here is so different. I'm so out of my element. Whoever or whatever that man offered was to show me a way back to what I left, and to not be so intensely lonely. I don't know maybe this is all in my head, but so much synchronicity lately has to mean something, don't it?” Cairn said trying to reason out these random yet connected events.
“I do admit these spirits are a bit to coincidental. Just roll with it and see where it goes. At least this shadow person is there to help you, right?” Kelly encouraged, and then said, “So tell me about the cowboy from Drewsey.”
“There is not much to tell, really. He's a cowboy,” Cairn offered flatly.
“That's okay to hold out on me. I think your head is in the spirit world, Kelly stated.
“No. It's just that I'm not sure where we are at. We had a bit of a rough start last night. We smoothed it over and by this morning we were kidding each other,” Cairn said.
“Is there a connection between you two?” Kelly asked.
“If that's your way of saying did we sleep together, no. He is attractive and all, especially with his wide mouth grin, five o'clock shadow, and those piercing dark eyes. But, now that I see him in person, I am not all gushy over him. Our communication styles are different. He is so out with it. I don't know. Actually Kelly I think he is a better match for you,” Cairn said.
“Why is that?” Kelly asked.
“There is something about the way you both feel, like your energy levels, and the direct crispness in your talk and your intentional walk through life. Anyway, you would love this scalped land full of the critters you so love. Horses, cows, and dogs, and other wild things I'm sure of too, that I haven't seen yet,” Cairn mused over her proposal.
“Well I don't see any reason for me to git my ass out there short of a really good reason, so enjoy your cowboy man, Cairn,” Kelly advised.
“Oh I'll make the best of it for however long I'm here on this earth. Listen let's meet atop this hill for the next few mornings unless I happen to be out steer wrestling. And since I got to climb up to this summit to talk, I'll call you, okay?” Cairn asked, almost pleading, as she feared long lonely days ahead.
“Sure thing Cairn. Sounds like a plan. Okay, over and out. And one more thing: I love you,” Kelly said. She was a bit concerned, as Cairn did not sound like the steady rock Kelly always known her to be.
Cairn half-slid and half-walked her way down the hill. When she reached the bottom, her low profile sneakers were full of dirt. She found a rock to sit down on near the barn and emptied her shoes. Then she wondered what she was going to do to fill the rest of the day until Cliff got back. Abo
ut then, a small blackish cat came out of nowhere and stroked Cairn's lower leg. She reached down and stroked the kitty from ear to tail. “My, aren't you a surprise sneaking up on me?” Cairn said to the stray. The dust on the kitty came off in Cairn's hand to reveal a totally shiny, black feline with upward strokes of sharp orange. Funny why the cat's are attracted to me, Cairn thought and then she remembered her calling: to feed them. “What do you make of that my pretty one? Am I supposed to feed you, too?”
Naturally, Cairn retreated to the house and reappeared with a saucer of milk. The little cat was glad to lap it up clean. The rest of the day, Cairn spent doing more barn exploration, trying to understand the farm implements, looking at the cows in the way one does for never being this closely exposed to them. Then she spent a long time petting the horses, especially Bluebird since she was to ride her later. Cairn read somewhere that if you blow into a horse's nose they would always know you. So that is what she did, just in case it worked. Meanwhile the black with some orange on it cat hung out in the barn and eventually settled into a remnant pile of hay.
Cairn was beginning to admit to herself that she was completely and utterly bored. For some reason, she had not given a thought as to how her days would be filled. If she were in the city, or at least a town, she could shop and snoop around. But she was stuck and for how long she had no idea. So in the heat of another very warm day, Cairn went up stairs found her bedroom and copied the cat. She went to sleep. Later on she woke up and thought she's better start preparing the French dip dinner. The lord only knows what wrath would be brought upon her this night if she ignored a perfectly reasonable request.
Easy Rider
With the sandwiches warming in the oven, Au jus on the stove, a fruit salad on the table, and even, box made brownies cooked up, Cairn was ready for whatever. And “the whatever” stomped through the door in a fury. Cairn wanted to step back into the shadows, but dare not forgo her ability to hold her own. Instead when she saw Cliff she could not hold her thoughts in and said, “Holy crap Cliff, you look like a herd of cattle ran you over. Where's a good horse when you need him?”
Cliff stopped dead in his tracks. Amazed he stammered, “What did ya say? How'd you know what happened? Who came by?”
“Cliff, are you alright? You aren't making sense. I've been here all day alone,” Cairn explained.
He was leaning on the counter, exhausted, and confused. Then Cliff said, “I did get run over by a bunch of bulls. They stampeded and my horse got gored in the side so we both went down.”
“Oh, no! I don't know what to say,” Cairn caught her breath then approach Cliff still leaning on the counter. She put her hand over his for comfort. Then she said, “I had no idea. What I said was just a flip off my tongue. I apologize, really I do. You have another horse?” Cairn was curious.
“Yeah, Rusty is my best, and really—my only cutting horse. He is at my buddy's ranch recuperating. He will be fine. The bleeding wounds looked ugly initially, but the bull did little damage. It was superficial. No stitches required. He'll be good to go in a few days. Many of us who work at these ranches just overnight our horses there. It makes it easy and saves trailer time.”
Cairn listened with concern and thought about the horse with shallow wounds, grateful Rusty was okay, and Cliff, too. Then she suggested, “Cliff dinner is ready, but why don't you go take a shower and relax. Then we'll take it from there. Do you have anything broken?”
Cliff looked up at Cairn. The blackness he came in the door with had faded. He took in Cairn's suggestion and nodded affirmative. Pulling back from the counter Cliff said, “The only thing broken is my ego.” With that he eeked out a smile and headed for the bathroom.
When Cliff returned clean and redressed in jeans and a flannel shirt he looked like he was going for another ride. A drink waited for him on the counter, “I pulled out what you had and mixed a little of each,” Cairn said and continued. “It should relax you.”
Cliff looked at the jar full of Cairn's concoction and then put back a big gulp. He made a funny lip jeer with the corner of his mouth and gasped out an, “Oh yeah,” and, “thanks, thanks a lot.”
“If you don't mind I am famished so I am going to eat. You can watched me if you want?” Cairn ribbed a little to see what Cliff would do. But tonight he didn't even take the bait.
“No, I'll eat. I better put something else in my gut besides this firewater,” Cliff stated, matter-of-factually.
So in peace and quiet they ate French Dip. With no animosity or any other agenda. Both just ate like a couple of old farm folks at the end of a long day. Cliff's color returned and he was coming back to his senses, despite the liquor. Then he spoke, “Ready to ride Bluebird tonight?”
Cairn thought: Really? This guy is made of one tough grit. Cairn found herself shaking her head yes to this observation. Cliff had his head down buried deep into his roast beef sandwich.
The barn in the late afternoon cast long shadows through the porthole windows. Cliff took a halter off the hook, and went in Bluebird's stall. Not a minute later, Bluebird wearing the halter followed Cliff over to a post where she got tied, “How much have you ridden, Cairn?” Cliff asked.
“Well, truthfully, not much. I went to Girl Scout camp as a teenager. It was fun going on the trails until my horse bit me on my arm and drew blood. It freaked me out and I haven't been on a horse since.”
“Oh boy,” Cliff sounded in awe. The he continued, “Well since your horse time is nil, don't mind that I treat you like a beginner. Now I'm gonna throw a lot of information at you. You are going to get overwhelmed, that is natural. Just remember experienced horse-masters are skilled because they have spent a lifetime on horseback. People around here grow up on horses. From the time they are born they are riding around with grandma or pa, or mom or dad. It is not that usual to see 4 year old kids riding a horse bigger than Bluebird. It gets in your blood. Now don't you worry about Bluebird. He is as gentle and easy as they come. He is in his twenties now, so he don't have no spook left.”
Cairn was already reeling with too much information. And she didn't know where to begin asking questions, but she did have one, “Bluebird is a HE? I thought HE was a SHE. How do you tell?”
“Look underneath. Boys have a penis, just like us guys. Mares, girl horses, have it all stashed under their tail nice and neat. Bluebird is a gelding. That means he has no balls and can't reproduce or breed a mare. Most male horses are gelded, or at least most all should be. Too much irresponsible breeding by people who know nothing of breeds. It's a shame as it is there are too many horses going without. Too many family horses go to the auction to be sold to kill buyers,” Cliff could see Cairn's face contort in disgust and continued on. “Yes, people eat horses too, especially in Europe. The worse thing is slaughter-houses have been banned in this country so horses get the double whammy. They travel in sickening conditions for days to get to an inhumane death that is unregulated north, and especially south of the border. Gosh, sorry, I can see I'm making you dizzy,” Cliff stopped for a bit and walked over to the tack room, which was the room under lock and key before.
Cairn's head swam with that bit of information. If she had been more in-tune with the horse industry she probably would have known. But how could she? Instead, she walked up near Bluebird's nose and stroked it softly. She trusted Cliff was right about Bluebird's safety. Cliff came walking back with a saddle pad and plopped it up on Bluebird's back. As he did so he said, “Now when you put a pad on, before you do, run your hands down his back on both sides. You want to make sure there are no burrs and anything that will give or cause him pain. Here, take this pad again and put it right up here, that's right, then run it back going with the hair, that's right. Now he ready for a saddle. Come with me,” Cliff instructed.
Cairn followed Cliff into the large tack room. There were at least six western saddles, a wall full of bridles and halters and a sitting area. Over the small kitchen area was row upon row of ribbons. All years’ winnings were repres
ented along with trophy buckles, silver platters, bridles, and more. “Impressive,” Cairn pointed to the wall.
“Yeah, maybe. A trophy doesn't count for a man's real worth. But some make it so,” Cliff said this pragmatically. “The first few years of winning is fun, I guess. But it's all relative to anything you do in life. Some you win. Some you lose,” Cliff pointed to a saddle and said, “Cairn come here and see if you can lift this saddle. I want to know you can do this so if you want to ride during the day you can.”