Rundimahair: A new hero for a new adventure

by Larry Forkner

  Larry Forkner

  RUNDIMAHAIR

  Published Internationally by Highest Star Productions

  Copyright © 2021 by Larry Forkner

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designed by Amy Hansen

  First edition

  This book is dedicated to my great friend and partner, Amy Hansen, who also happens to be my beloved daughter. I would likely have never succeeded as a novel writer, music composer or playwright without her great talents, creative abilities, and encouragement. Many thanks for all you do, sweet Amy!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Larry Forkner

  Prologue

  May you have hindsight to know where you’ve been,

  The foresight to know where you are going,

  And the insight to know when you have gone too far.

  ~ Old Irish Saying ~

  The storm seemed to be growing in intensity with each passing minute. The skies that were partly sunny, when Sean Quinn left Portland several hours ago, were now filled with thick, dark, brooding clouds. Bruised, purple clouds finally let loose a mighty downpour, and gale-force bursts of wind lashed torrents of rain against Sean’s windshield as it rushed down Highway 101 on the northern Oregon Coast. It was all he could do to keep his Cadillac SRX on the highway.

  “I understand why they’re upset, Jennie. They want to keep things just the way they are, and I want to change them. We can’t all be happy, so we’ll have to settle for me being happy. Just get the crew going, and if we have to, we’ll call in the police to deal with the nut cases. Standing in front of our bulldozers is a crime—trespassing if nothing else,” Sean Quinn said with a touch of exasperation creeping into his voice.

  “You got it, boss man,” his office manager replied in her usual cheerful, confident manner. “I actually agree with you on this one, Sean. They’re not willing to give at all on their unrealistic demands. I’ll start the…” Jennie’s voice was cut off as the cell phone signal disappeared. As if to accentuate her dislike of modern technology, Mother Nature let loose a deafening boom of thunder, which seemed to explode inches above the roof of his SUV.

  “Jennie, can you hear me? Are you still there?” Sean shouted over the rumbling thunder. “What else can go wrong?” Sean growled, tossing his useless cell phone onto the passenger seat of the Cadillac.

  Sean took a deep breath and relaxed a little. His good friend and office manager, Jennie Mason, would handle this issue in her usual efficient, compassionate manner. When it came to business practices, they didn’t always agree on the best course of action, but on this project, they were on the same page.

  At twenty-four, Sean was already a very successful businessman. He was tall and well-built, with thick sandy hair and large hazel eyes. He was a handsome man by anyone’s estimation, and most women seemed to find him irresistible.

  Despite his relative youth, Sean was already a very successful property developer, who specialized in projects along the picturesque Oregon Coast. He was driven to succeed no matter what the cost. Those who assumed he was too young to be a serious player in the real estate game, had often found out the hard way they were sadly mistaken.

  He’d departed from his office building, in downtown Portland, early this morning to check out a large parcel of land near Lincoln City. It was part of a real estate auction taking place in a couple of days. Since it was only an overnight trip, he hadn’t packed for stormy weather. Anyone that spent as much time on the coast as he did, should have known better. This time of year, the weather could change dramatically in a matter of minutes.

  Another sudden gust of wind forced his attention back to the problem at hand. If he wasn’t careful, his brand-new Cadillac would end up in a ditch or at the bottom of a ravine. Sean concentrated on getting through this storm and put the rest of his problems on the back-burner for the moment.

  Lightning began streaking across the sky, showing off Mother Nature’s savage beauty, as the storm’s intensity increased. It seemed he was the only person foolish enough to be out in this weather, since he hadn’t spotted another vehicle for quite some time.

  A sudden, massive and jagged streak of lightning flashed across the sky, striking an enormous old fir tree alongside the highway. A deafening crack followed as a large section of the tree split and fell across the road. It was less than 30 feet away, leaving him only seconds to react. Sean instinctively veered hard right to avoid crashing headlong into the massive tree blocking the road. Almost immediately, he realized this was a terrible mistake. He was only a few feet away from the edge of the road, and beyond that was empty space falling into a very deep ravine.

  Sean swung the steering wheel hard in the opposite direction, deciding his chances of survival were much better by striking the fallen tree, as opposed to falling into the deep, rugged ravine. When he tried to swing the Cadillac back onto the road, the front bumper struck the tree, causing the rear wheels to spin out of control. The impact slammed Sean’s head into the driver’s side window frame, and he was mercifully unconscious, while his vehicle veered sharply toward the ravine’s deadly darkness far below.

  Chapter One

  May misfortune follow you the rest of

  your life, and never catch up.

  ~ Old Irish Saying ~

  The sound of gentle rain tapped out a pleasant rhythm on the Cadillac’s roof. This was the first thought that crossed Sean’s mind when he regained consciousness. The searing pain from a world-class headache quickly vied for his attention and dominated his thoughts. A trickle of blood was running down the left side of his face, which seemed to be coming from his scalp.

  It was now very dark outside, meaning he must have been out for several hours. The stiffness in his body seemed to confirm that conclusion. The wind had all but stopped, and the rain was reduced to a steady drizzle. The good news was that the SRX was still running and didn’t seem to be too badly damaged. For some reason that troubled his dazed mind, but he was unsure why.

  He lifted his head off the passenger side windshield and was immediately assailed by blinding pain. It began in his left temple and quickly traveled through his neck and left shoulder. He dropped his head onto the headrest and hoped the pain would diminish. After several minutes, the pounding headache began to recede into a dull throb, but the neck pain was still ferocious.

  Keeping his head very still, Sean tried to reason through what he’d just experienced. His mind still felt sluggish, but he was beginning to recall most of the accident. He’d struck the fallen tree—los
ing control—and the SRX crashed through the flimsy guard rail and fell into the…

  “Where’s the ravine?” he said aloud, sitting up to look through the front windshield.

  Pain erupted from his injured neck and head, but he did his best to ignore it. To his great relief, the Cadillac was sitting in the middle of a narrow, paved road, instead of at the bottom of a deep ravine. Sean had been so sure that the car was headed into the ravine when he’d lost consciousness.

  He turned gingerly to look behind him. About a hundred yards back was Highway 101, which he’d been traveling on. The fallen tree was still lying in the middle of the highway, so he hadn’t imagined the accident. But instead of falling into the deadly ravine, he’d veered onto this narrow lane. Then he’d apparently brought the Cadillac to a stop and put it in park before he passed out. The confusing part was Sean couldn’t recall doing any of that. He didn’t even remember seeing the narrow lane his car was sitting on.

  It was too much for his pain muddled mind to reason through. He would deal with the confusion once he’d gotten medical treatment and some much-needed rest. The fact that he was alive and safe was all that mattered now.

  Sean reached for his cell phone that was still on the passenger seat beside him. Frustration burned within him when he saw it still had no signal. He sighed deeply and started to turn the Cadillac around to get back on Highway 101. He wondered how far he could travel in his present condition, but he really had no choice. Just as he began turning the wheel, he noticed that it wasn’t complete blackness ahead of him. A few lights were burning about a half-mile down the road. He had no idea what small town lay ahead, but right now it was any port in a storm.

  He drove down the narrow lane, heading toward the unknown town at a slow and steady pace. The pain in his head and neck was nearly unbearable, but he was alive and that was more than what seemed likely a few hours ago.

  As he neared the town, Sean noticed a large, semi-circular, cut of myrtle wood along the side of the road. The multi-colored grain made for a beautiful piece of wood. Someone had carved a few words, in the wood, in elegant, old-world script, Welcome to Rundimahair, A Bit of Heaven on Earth.

  Sean knew this area of the Oregon Coast fairly well, but he’d never heard of this little town. Life was full of surprises, and he’d already had more than his share today.

  The few lights that he’d seen in the distance multiplied dramatically as he reached the edge of town. He couldn’t be sure of the population, but judging by what he could see, Sean guessed there were about five or six thousand residents. This was a fair-sized town, by coastal standards, and he was still amazed he’d been unaware of its existence.

  The ride suddenly became bumpy and a little uneven when he drove down Main Street. In his headlights, the cause was plain to see; the road had turned from pavement to cobblestone. That was something Sean hadn’t seen very often. It was appealing but not very practical—unless the town was trying to attract tourists to the area with an old-world look. That was likely, since most of the homes and businesses had something of an old world European look.

  The small town seemed very out of place with a surreal aura that made Sean feel a little uneasy. It was probably just the aftermath of the accident, which left him feeling groggy and uncomfortable. He reasoned that everything would look better after a good night’s rest. If he still felt disoriented in the morning, he’d seek medical attention. Right now, all he wanted to do was go to bed.

  Sean tried to focus on the surrounding buildings, hoping to find a motel or bed-and-breakfast where he could stop. It seemed the more he tried to concentrate, the more confused he became. His vision was becoming blurry, and he began to feel like he would pass out again. He tried to pull over but lost consciousness just as he turned the wheel. Sean was out cold and the Cadillac was heading straight for the oldest building in town.

  * * *

  A deep, resonant voice was intruding on Sean’s peaceful slumber. At first he ignored it, but the voice seemed to become more insistent the longer Sean resisted. Finally, the disembodied voice almost shouted Sean’s name and he reluctantly began to respond. It was a struggle to clear the fog from his mind and open his eyes. Most of the fog lingered, but his eyes slowly squinted open.

  “Well, well, there is somebody to home after all,” the voice said.

  There was a pleasant, lilting quality to the voice that made Sean think it was a foreign accent. The type of accent eluded him; he was too busy trying to fight the bright glare of sunlight that assaulted his eyes. He finally gave up and closed them again.

  “A bit too much of the sunshine, is it? I think we can take care of that for you, young fella.”

  Sean felt the glare decrease as he heard the shades being drawn. He cautiously opened his eyes again and the room slowly came into focus. He was expecting to see some type of hospital room but was surprised to see he was lying in a large, beautifully furnished bedroom. The furniture appeared to be antique and beautifully preserved or restored. Sean loved antique furniture and had many expensive and unique pieces in his Victorian home, sitting high in the hills above Portland.

  Despite his confusion about where he was and how he got here, Sean’s attention was drawn to the oystered cherry armoire. The stunning piece of well-aged furniture sat grandly against the wall, near the window, where the older gentleman was drawing the shades. It was a Louis XV bonnet-topped armoire with the doors highlighted by chevron parquetry and was restored to mint condition. That was just one of several unique antiques in the room. The armoire’s value alone would be near $20,000.00.

  “So you had a little accident, judging by the lump on your head,” his host said.

  “At least one accident,” Sean replied. When I passed out again, here in town, I seem to recall an old building directly in front of me. I don’t know if I ran in to it or not.”

  “Fortunately not,” the older fellow replied with a smile. You were headed right for my furniture shop, but you weren’t going very fast. Young Billy Crandall was able to pull the driver’s side door open and put on the brakes for you.”

  “Remind me to thank him once I’m on my feet again,” Sean said.

  “That I will.”

  “So how did I end up here?” Sean asked.

  “Ah yes, forgive my shameful manners, young man. Here you are in a strange bed and I’ve not even introduced myself. I’m Eamon Cahir and you’re resting in the guest bedroom of my own home, so you are.”

  Eamon stepped forward and offered his hand to Sean. His handshake was firm, and Sean was surprised to realize that Eamon’s hand was even larger than his. Eamon was a tall, lean man, a couple of inches over Sean’s six-two. Sean had a bit more muscle on him at 190, but Eamon had the look of a man with wiry strength. He realized Eamon wasn’t as old as he’d first assumed, even though his light brown hair had a fair touch of gray at the temples. His well-trimmed beard was showing a bit more gray, but Sean decided he was probably no more than his fifties instead of the sixties he’d initially assumed.

  “We sent a crew out to clear the tree off the road. We don’t want any other traveler to come upon that hunk of trouble in the middle of a dark and stormy night,” Eamon said.

  “Good idea. I’m fortunate that I spotted your town after the accident. I don’t think I’d have made it to the next town in the condition I was in. It’s funny, but I’m already starting to feel better now.”

  “I’ve always been a great believer in the restorative powers of a good night’s sleep,” Eamon said. “I’m sure you’ll be right as rain in no time, Sean.”

  A strange chill went through Sean at the mention of his name. Had he told Eamon what his name was? He was pretty sure he hadn’t, although he couldn’t be sure what happened the night before. Maybe someone had gone through his wallet when they’d found him to find who they were dealing with.

  “I see you know my name. Did I introduce myself last night, Eamon?”

  “I’m afraid you were in no condition to be makin
g introductions last night. No, it was my nosey daughter who checked your driver’s license. She wanted to be sure you weren’t some nefarious character who might murder us all in our beds. Not that you had the strength to do any such thing when we found you.”

  “That’s fine, Eamon. I’d have probably done the same if I were in her shoes. I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

  “And what else could we do for a wounded traveler, stranded in our humble community? We hope you’ll stay for a few days until you’re well enough to continue your journey.”

  “I was afraid I’d be laid up for a week or two but the way I’m feeling now, I think I’ll be out of your hair sooner rather than later.”

  “In the meantime, I’m guessing you’re well overdue to put on the feedbag,” Eamon said.

  “If I’ve ever been hungrier, I can’t recall when,” Sean said.

  “That’s all well and good since my own sweet daughter will have breakfast on the table by the time you’re up and dressed. The guest bath is right through the door nearest to your bed and your luggage is in the closet just there,” Eamon said, pointing to another door across the room. “If you need any help, be sure to give me a holler.”

  Sean managed to shower and get dressed in near record time. His head still ached when he was on his feet, and the dizziness seemed to flare up if he tried to move too fast. Otherwise, he was amazed by how quickly his health seemed to be returning. Of course, the delectable aromas wafting from the kitchen were a great motivator to hurry him along.

  Following the aroma of bacon frying, Sean pushed through the café doors that led to a large country kitchen. The kitchen looked like a vintage painting from a farm house built hundreds of years ago. Everything from the wood-burning oven to the large butcher-block table seemed to belong to a time long past.