by Ann Patty
Being in nature and on this farm unplugged Cairn from the cement society she knew. While a few days back she longed to return, now the city could wait. Comfort zones, Cairn surmised, were just what a person got use to. When Bluebird had been bathed, Cairn put him away and gave him breakfast. It was time to go up the hill and call Kelly.
Today's news included new adventures. Cairn's horse mastery both atop Bluebird and in the dirt left the girls laughing. Plus another puzzle piece to the mystery man story provoked many theories. Up top the hill once more the best friends talked, giggled, and puzzled over the farm phantoms until Kelly had to return back to work.
Engine Jo
Cairn was scuffing down the slope almost to the bottom when a young boy of ten pedaled by on his very old Schwinn three-speed bike. Cairn perked up and ran his direction waving her hand overhead, “Hey wait there, hold on... can you stop for a sec?” Cairn asked the young red headed boy. “Do you live around here?” Then Cairn stopped and thought: Silly of me, of course he does! Then she said, “I'm a guest of Cliff Wallace, stayin’ here at the farm. I've been here a few days and not sure I can find my way out to the main road. Could you show me? Ride with me in my car? I'll pay you.”
The boy perked up, then said, “I guess so. You are not some weirdo are you lady? I mean you for real and all... not some spirit ghost?” The lad was standing beside his bike scuffing his feet in the dirt, assessing Cairn. He noticed her hair color and his were the exact shade of orange-red.
Cairn listened to the kid and thought what to say next to convince him she was legit. “Listen, I don't blame you. I'm a perfect stranger out of nowhere,” She paused and looked at the boy intensely and said. “What did you say about the spirit ghost?”
The boy clammed up and murmured, “Nothing.”
“Wait one second. Please tell me what you know. I have been seeing a ghost of a dark man, perhaps a Native local to here. He comes every day to show me something,” Cairn told the boy. “If you know something, I really need to know.”
The young lad brightened up when Cairn told of her encounter. He believed Cairn. Then he advised, “You need to go see Engine Jo. He can tell you all about the ghost land.”
“Really? Can you take me there?” Cairn asked and said, “I'll pay you.”
“How much?” The boy was weighing his options.
“Ten bucks enough?” Cairn enticed the savvy child.
“Done deal,” the boy slapped his dirty hands together then asked, “Can I take my bike with us?”
“Sure, as long as it fits in the back of my wagon. Why don't you walk it over to the tailgate,” Cairn instructed then pointed.
Cairn ran to get her keys and her purse and came back. The young man was waiting patiently at the back of her wagon. Cairn smiled to herself thinking the boy probably had nothing else to do. I might very well the highlight of his day. Together, both of the red heads partnered to wedge the bike carefully into the back end. The wagon started up and the boy in the passenger seat pointed the way to go, that was out the back-side of the property.
“You sure?” Cairn questioned.
“My whole life sure. Say, did that bully cowboy Frank bring you up the rut way?” The kid asked. Cairn nodded yes. Then the kid said, “Well he is cranky and don't want no bother so he scares people off.”
Cairn listened and made a low huffing noise expelled through her mouth. If not for this young cowpoke she would have gone and braved the ruts out only she didn't know which way out was. Her new friend pointed down a smooth and graveled dirt road. Cairn's vehicle found it's way easily without fanfare to the main road.
At the T-intersection, the boy pointed opposite the main road. “Engine Jo lives up in the trees along the creek. It's not far,” Cairn obeyed his directions. After seven miles, the youngster pointed to a very nice long travel trailer in the trees and said, “There. In that driveway. This is Engine Jo's place. Can I get my bike out now?”
When Cairn pulled her car into the driveway, she noted the area was well wooded with mature pine trees. Plenty of shade was provided on a hot summer day. The trailer obviously served as the main living quarters. There was an ample wooden porch with steps leading up to it. This was the main, and only entrance. The yard was an assembly of lawn chairs around a large fire pit that held a cooking kettle. The grounds were a cozy camp spot in privacy, complete with greenery, compliments from a healthy robust creek. Cairn and the boy got out and opened the backside of the wagon. The bike slid out much easier than going in. The boy hopped on and turned to the direction they came.
“Hey wait a minute, before you go,” Cairn reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty. “A deal is a deal.”
His young eyes bulged as he looked at the twenty-dollar bill in his hand. Then he looked at Cairn and said, “Wow, thanks lady.” With that, he turned and pedaled down the road. Cairn never saw him again.
The screen door on the trailer had slammed decisively shut. Cairn turned around and walked in that direction. “The kid there, said I should talk to you. Engine Jo is it?” She asked, as she put her hand out.
The large man looked at her extended hand, but did not take it. “Why?” asked the man. Cairn could see that 'Engine Jo' was a warrior in his own rite. Before her was a Native American man, well tanned wearing a pseudo Indian clothing, but it suited him. His camel pants where fringed from hip to ankle. It was held up by a studded purple bling belt and adorned in front by a huge trophy buckle. His barely a shirt resembled the pants in camel color but lacked sleeves and had an open front down to his navel. Many beaded necklaces in various lengths circled his neck. All strands were completely different. Engine Jo was pudgy, overweight a tad, but not fat. His arms were large, his fingers short and stocky, his belly protruded some, and his neck was thick. What one might think of him as a retired football player.
This human was confident and imposing. Black hair draped to his shoulders with five feathers that stuck securely to the back of his head. They were resting along his hairline downward. Engine Jo had a poker face, one that was hard to discern what his thoughts were. His face was broad, round, and flat with multiple creases to the forehead, and crows feet at the eyes. Cairn placed his age to be around fifty, although it was hard to tell. His black eyes were slits under the drooping lids who held them back. A short turned up nose that sat a bit above twin plump lips. Engine Jo's face was captivating. It was passionless, but the subtleties in gestures were clear. And right then, his expression spoke curiosity while remaining a tough guard over his domain. Again he said, “Why? What do you need of me?”
Cairn was not sure where to start. The guy was imposing, but as soft of a heart as a cupcake. She started by saying, “Well I've been seeing apparitions of an Indian—a Native American fellow for the last few days. I was wondering if you could help me understand.”
Engine Jo crossed his arms across his chest. He stood five feet from Cairn. He was thinking and absorbing what she said. A long pause confronted them and then he said, “Tell you what. I make you a trade. My information for yo beads around yo neck.” Jo nodded in his own approval and said no more.
Cairn reached up to her neck-piece and fingered her two-strand shell necklace that was adorned by a large wire wrapped moonstone pendant. She bit her lip, assessing the trade then tipped her head. Looking this unknown entity straight in the eye Cairn reached around with both hands and unclasped her necklace. She gave one last look and with an outstretched hand offered it to Engine Jo.
He was amazed that Cairn forwarded her treasure to him so quickly. He unclasped his arms and one reached out and accepted the prize. Jo put it in both hands, raised it to the light to adore, and then clasped it onto his own neck. Cairn now understood where all the other neck charms came from. Jo turned toward the fire and waved Cairn to come along and sit. She did.
Engine Jo bent over his kettle and stirred. He forked a piece of meat, blew on it, and slid it into his mouth saying, “Ouch, hot.” He brought out two bowls and dished one for Cai
rn and then himself. He placed a bowl on a log end make shift table and waved for Cairn to eat, “It's the best so far this year.” he said. Cairn just sat and stared into the bowl.
“What is it? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I don't eat much meat,” Cairn said flatly.
“It's not meat. It's venison,” Engine Jo smiled. Cairn thought: What's he talking about? Behind his poker face, she did not know how to take him or his comments, serious, silly, or otherwise.
Cairn picked up the bowl and taste tested a morsel. And then she didn't stop eating until the bowl was empty. “Want more? Got plenty,” Engine Jo asked. Then he offered a jar of clear liquid libation, “Here drink this. It'll clear your palette.”
Cairn reached for the jar and began to gulp. She was parched and the venison was spicy. Engine Jo's eyes bulged and his hand went to his mouth as he puckered his mouth together. On Cairn's third gulp she gagged and the brew spewed all over the fire. She bent over. Jo came over and patted her on the back. “Just breathe easy. You will live. Guess you didn't know that was moonshine. Crap, I thought that's what you came here for!” Engine Jo was dumbfounded. He went and found real water and brought back a gallon and put it in front of Cairn.
Cairn sat back. The home brew ran down her throat and into every sinus cavity clearing her out. Her cheeks went flush with red. Cairn's extremities went limp. She just sat back in a stupor looking at the jar half full.
“It won't hurt. Never had anyone die from it,” Jo mused. “Moon shit, I mean shine is good to kill parasites in your gut. And it's a relaxant. I make it. Me and the guys have a distillery up yonder,” Engine Jo smiled like a proud papa. Then he prodded Cairn, “Say, you okay? You aren't mad at me are ya? Honest mistake. Honest.”
Cairn's orifices stopped leaking so she could talk, “No I'm not mad. I may have some more if my body calms down. It is the best sedative I've ever consumed.” Cairn stopped to cough and wipe away her tears and her snot. “I came here because that boy that was with me said you could explain about the spirits in this area.”
“Oh. I see. Tell me, what you know of these spirits. Have you seen them?” Engine Jo asked.
Cairn shook her head slowly yes. Grasping for the right tempo and rhythm of her last couple days she told Jo about all the sightings of Native American's since her first encounter down the road en route. Cairn stressed that each native had something to offer her that helped her journey. Engine Jo listened intently. Looking down, holding a long branch he played with the dirt at his feet. When Cairn was done, Jo kept staring at the ground like he was looking for or waiting for the right words to say. He remained that way for ten minutes. When he looked up at Cairn he relaxed and sat back. He picked up a jar of his moonshine and sipped.
“These spirits you see are not uncommon to visitors. It is not unusual that these apparitions help,” Jo stated. Cairn remembered the elderly couple had told her the same thing. Engine Jo continued, “Most of us believe that these spirits come to help those who are on a specific journey. Each visitor is on a unique destiny. The spirits only seek to help visitors in their transition. They know what lies beyond.”
“Engine Jo, do you see these spirits?” Cairn asked.
“Oh, yes, yes. See across the stream?” He pointed into a thicket of trees. “Every morning they appear. Sometimes on horseback. Always with those that crossed over with them in war. Their favorite mounts. Dogs too.” Engine Jo nodded as if to convince himself.
“You are not a visitor. Why do you see them?” Cairn questioned intently.
“My dear, we are all visitors. Some of us just choose to see. Most don't. We all have the receptors to hook into their dimension. It's what we choose.” Engine Jo was sipping his brew again and Cairn decided to do the same. Then he went on, “The veil is thin between life and death. Most think there is a mysterious time warp we go through to get to THAT other side. The truth is, in the physical or not we all coexist together. Of course, the others don't have to stay near. They have the advantage of an ethereal body that can go where every the hell they please. Kind a pisses me off. Wish I could do that. The planet Elanor ticks me off sometimes and the dim wits... oh, sorry. Moonshine sneaks out now and again.” Engine Jo snapped out of his ramped up rant and eased back into his wooden rocker.
Engine Jo stopped for a bit to recompose and then said, “Simply put we are all essentially energy. If you can relax and put your mind in a frame of receptivity you can see... To answer your question, yes, I too see them. Some of us have the DNA or the receptor factors in our physical body to tap into other dimensions. My mother, god rest her soul, was a clairvoyant. People came from near and far to get her consultations. I inherited her genes, but I don't give readings. I use to watch people suck the living life out of my mama. What she gave them was never enough. They got to be junkies, worse than meth addicts. They all wanted to seek what they would not take responsibility for themselves. After witnessing the madness I never let on that this talent lay within my grasp,” Engine Jo stopped talking.
“I suspect it is one spirit guide that watches over you. Out here it's probably a younger version of that riverbank Chief that first befriended you. Pay attention. Sounds like you have understood his messages, so he will continue to warn you. Just keep watch,” Engine Jo came to the end of his philosophy class.
Cairn sipped on her moonshine and had one last question, “Why the Engine Jo? Why did that name come by you?”
Engine Jo laughed and said, “Well you know I'm an Injun—Native American properly, but Injun to the locals. One of the gals in town had a bunch of little ones. She was straight-laced. I came into the cafe one day, for my once a week day on the town lunch (wink), and her kids ran up to me asking my name. I happened to have on a t-shirt with a big truck emblem on the front. So, duh, I pointed to the truck and told them my name was Engine Jo. The mother grateful nodded her respects. The only problem is it now sticks to my identity. Well, it doesn't matter what anyone calls you. It's your character that counts, eh?”
Cairn stood up, “May I take the rest of this jar seeing as I contaminated it completely and thoroughly,” she said.
“No, give me the jar,” Engine Jo said, took the jar, then ran into his trailer. Cairn knew he was up to something. He reemerged with a full jar all sealed for the road. “Here this is better. Don't waste it on Cliff. He always gets sick on it. So it's yours sweetie,” He chuckled and handed it to Cairn, who graciously accepted the jar with a bow.
The new friends walked to Cairn's wagon. Engine Jo reached around his neck and removed the traded necklace. He extended it, to hand them back to Cairn. She held up her hand motioning the refusal of her necklace saying, “Nope, fair trade Engine Jo.” With a toast to his direction, Cairn got back in her Subaru and headed down the road toward Cliff's farm. Cairn thought: Good thing this section is in the back woods because I don't know if it's me or the road that's swerving!
Under the Influence
Cairn had whittled her day away with Engine Jo. It was a good trade, she smiled. After a good clean up shower Cairn set about making a macaroni casserole for dinner. She wanted to make the dish interesting, partly because she was still under the influence of Engine Jo's brew.
The casserole was steaming as it was pulled out of the oven. Cowboy boots rattled through the front door of the barn home. “Watcha got tonight my little darlin'?” Cliff said cheerfully, as he threw his hat on the counter, “Be back in a jiffy. Got to get clean for you.” And he disappeared into the bathroom.
As they sat down to dinner, Cliff was self-absorbed about this calf and that cow and his four dogs and on and on. Cairn was too happy to listen so he did not get the clue that she was still drunk. Cliff took a bite of the casserole then swirled the contents around in his mouth. His eyebrows raised in amusement and looked to Cairn to explain.
“It's called ‘kitchen sink casserole’. Everything in it is healthy but you have to guess what it is,” Cairn smiled a smirky sneer.
“Radish for one, uncooked. Semi-s
weet chocolate morsel?” Cliff guessed as he chewed. “Are you sure this is edible?” He asked with a look that questioned Cairn, then he stopped chewing and said knowingly, “You are drunk.”
