by Ann Patty
Cairn was amazed at the quantity corralled in the BLM pens. Cairn was educated to the plight of the Mustang overall. She learned that in the wild due to their growing numbers, resources were scant. Mustangs were victims of their own over breeding and left unattended for too many decades their numbers outranked the available food. Although the BLM did its best to encourage adoption, the majority of the mustangs were not adopted, or adoptable. Although mustangs make some of the best riding horses around, for the most part many folks are not equipped with know how for training this undomesticated breed. Cairn stayed the minimal amount and after getting her fill of mustangs she drove on down the road. But, not without leaving a decent donation first. Cairn reasoned it was the least she could do.
Canyon Review
That night, there was something new cooking for dinner. Cliff did his typical after-work routine. As he came in the door he threw his hat on the counter, then walked off toward the shower room. But he first did a double take on all the white boxes in various sizes each had a wire handle sitting on the counter. As he left the room Cliff just thought: Great Chinese food, not my favorite. When he reemerged all clean Cliff saw the boxes sitting on the dining room table along with dishes and Cairn digging in to eat. Cliff bit his lip, sat down, and began eating. Then he said, “Interesting food, one that never fills you up. But, mind you, I'm not complaining... thanks for dinner.” Cliff smiled then said, “How about an evening ride?” Cairn looked up with a full mouth smile. For the first time Cliff detected that Cairn might actually be excited.
Cairn was becoming adept at tacking up Bluebird. But as proficient as she had gotten, Cliff's had his dark bay dubbed DB already to go. Cairn was still fiddling with the cinch strap while Cliff leaned against the haunches of his horse. Cliff smiled, because he knew just days, ago Cairn couldn't even lift a saddle. Whether it was the cowboy in Cliff, or that he wanted to test—rather than help Cairn get her horse ready, was hard to determine. After that first lesson, he never offered or lifted one finger to help Cairn tack her mount. Well, in truth Cliff wasn't use to fixing much for nobody, unless he was getting paid for it. So on account of that, it was just the way it was. And, for the most part Cairn didn't expect anything from Cliff, so it worked out fine.
The two set off on their steeds. They rode through the farm and out into the hills by way of an abandoned dirt road. The road gave way to a trail, which fell inside the crevasses of the hills. The low sage brush and over hanging craggy trees reminded Cairn of all the old time western movies. There was plenty of sunlight left, but it was casting long shadows. It was Cliff who spoke first after an hour into the ride.
“You know Cairn, I don't know what you think of me, but I'm thinking it's safe to say we wouldn't be the model for the ideal country couple. I'm not going to hold you here if you need to move on, but you are welcome to stay.” Cliff stated the obvious, then he waited to give Cairn an opening to talk, but she didn't. So Cliff continued, “Last night was great. Never knew I could have so much in common with someone so different from myself.” Cliff smiled and said, “Basic instinct is natural. The rawness of this land can bring it out in a person. Anyway, what I'm saying is, if that is all we do, or all you want to do while you are here, I can live with that.”
There was a long silence. The only sound for a long while was the rhythm of hooves hitting the hard dirt. Cliff did not know whether he insulted Cairn, or maybe he was just too blunt. Either way he meant what he said, so his conscious was clear. Finally, Cairn twisted around in her saddle and looked at Cliff, then said, “Cliff you are a good, decent man. The absolute best cowboy from Drewsey I ever met. And, all the rest of the stuff you said... I agree.”
Just then Cliff picked up his reins clucked to DB and flew into a canter. Cairn was not sure if she had control or not, but Bluebird picked the canter right up and fell right in behind the black bay. They rose up out of the canyon onto the high flat plateau and picked up speed. Cliff looked over to see if Cairn was keeping up, and yes, Bluebird was carrying her just fine. After a good long stretch the horses trickled down to a trot, and then a walk. Occasionally, under the brush a rattler could be heard. Cliff warned Cairn to steer wide and clear of the sound while pointing out the snake.
As the mismatched couple sauntered along it gave the horses a chance to catch their wind. Now it was Cairn's turn to express herself, “Yeah, we are an odd couple with really not a thing in common. But it is rather amazing how in the midst of our differences, we have found some commonalities, sex for instance. Cliff, I didn't do it with you because I was drunk, that only helped loosen me up. Your persona, YOU are magnetic. Whether you know it or not, at certain times when I'm not pissed at you, you are just plain hot—for your forty-nine years. That's the god's honest truth.” Cairn took her finger and crossed her heart. Cliff pushed up the brow of his hat as a gesture, nodded, then smiled coyly. His way of saying, “Thanks.”
The horses walked steadily on top of the plateau where vegetation was sage-brush and rocks. No words came from Cairn or Cliff. They had both said their peace. Idle banter did not suit these two now. Cliff guided them to a far cliff where the folds of the hills cast evening shadows under the low sun. For the first time, Cairn came to appreciate this unforgiving land. The hues and subtleties that shaped the canyon that lay before her were not only dramatic, but celestial. Cairn believed this was as close to a religious experience as she could get without the church.
“Cliff how cold does it get here in the dead of the winter?” Cairn asked curiously, as she sat lazily on her resting horse over looking the vast landscape of changing colors.
Cliff answered, “Dead of winter, well below zero, at lease at night.”
“Wow. How do you cope with those extremes?” Cairn asked.
“You adapt. I'll admit as I get older, the less I want to adapt. The weather is a way of life here, just like branding the cattle, and putting up the hay.” Cliff said as he gazed, almost longingly, out into a far point of the canyon. There was a restlessness inside Cliff. He wanted more... more from a partner, something he had not had for a long time, if ever. He did not consider himself a complicated person. Just a simple, hard working guy that wanted to come home to a woman he could love, and above all, trust. To Cliff this seemed to be a reasonable request. Yet as he aged his beckoning went unanswered. And, sitting here beside Cairn, to no fault of her own, Cliff felt even more isolated from his dream. In fact, he felt empty. So while Cliff was experiencing a vast void inside his soul, Cairn was filled with awe for the pastel drama inside this slice of Eden.
A Change of Venue
Back at the barn house the sun was well set. They rode under the night sky, filled with stars of the Milky Way. The routine of disrobing the horses was met without words. Cairn nor Cliff were mad, or necessarily happy, or even content. The tone was one of status quo with an acceptance that they were not to be, and possibly, after this adventure not even to be friends. Their time was winding down. Both felt it with a bit of melancholy.
Cairn broke the dead silence inside the barn full of animals and aromas. “Cliff, I may head out late tomorrow, if you don't mind?” she asked. Cairn could really see no point in hanging around. She knew she did not fit Cliff's ideal woman. That was fine. She felt there was nothing left for her here. “I might like to take Bluebird for one last ride in the morning, if that is okay with you?” Cairn asked.
Cliff took the saddle from DB and walked it into the tack room without a word. He heard Cairn, just was not sure how to respond. Walking back to the door he said, “Sure, Bluebird would love another ride. No problem.” then Cliff paused in thought before he said, “You sure you want to go? I mean it's up to you. I don't mind your company. I mean that.”
“Yeah, I'm sure. It's time,” Cairn stated with conviction. “Cliff, I mean it when you are a decent man. Really.” Cairn intuitively felt Cliff's disappointment with his online match. She was not only telling Cliff the truth, Cairn was attempting to thwart any misgivings Cliff had about his abil
ities to catch a woman. Words spoken on a phone are often deceptive compared to the real in-the-flesh person. That is the risk one takes as they dream and fantasize about the profile on their computer screen. Online profiles to lovers to a match made in heaven are giant leaps of faith that often falter. Cairn knew this score and all too often, and more so than innocent unsuspecting Cliff. Yes, Cliff was a relative virgin to the online dating world. Cairn suspected this would be not only his first, but his last, online encounter. Tough guy Cliff held a soft sensitive heart. He could not assimilate large disparities in people let alone potential mates. He was not equipped to diffuse disappointment. And, losing a lover that was never a true lover in the first place was disconcerting to him. Cairn knew it was time to go, and so did Cliff. Another day or two or three would compound both of their anxieties over their failed attempt at being lovers, much less friends.
With the horses put away and left munching their hay, Cairn and Cliff climbed the steps upward to bed. Cliff mumbled an almost intelligible good night as Cairn bee-lined for the bathroom. She took it that sex on their last night would be null and void. It bothered her that Cliff was so rigid to ideals that held him hostage that he couldn't even have one last fling. After all, they enjoyed themselves immensely the night before. Cairn could bed him down again, she thought, if, perhaps she had a stiff drink inside of her. So there too, Cairn was just as guilty of perceived restrictions and perfect endings.
Cairn got out of the shower, and dried her red hair, now floppy and hanging down. She came out of the bathroom, looked around the corner. Cliff was stone cold out on top of his bed. Cairn thought he looked endearing. She wanted to comfort him somehow as she could sense not only his disappointment, but his regrets. Cairn stepped up to the opposite side of the bed. Cliff was occupying only one side. Cairn peeled back the covers and slipped underneath. She sidled up to Cliff and spooned his back torso wrapping an arm around him. Cliff raised his head, looked back at Cairn and smiled. He took her hand in his and placed it upon his chest. The just friends fell fast asleep.
Feathers of Flight
Morning came just before dawn. Cliff did his usual rustling around the kitchen to get his cup of coffee. He brought another to Cairn who was now sitting up, looking at dawn breaking over the hills. Cliff handed the cup over to Cairn and nodded his head. No words came for either of them. Just a recognition that this was the end of their trail. Cliff finally said, “I was sort of wishing that you might like to stay through the weekend. If you've never seen a cutting horse show you might like it. It's just down the road by Burns at the Bell A Ranch.” Cairn smiled and wrinkled her nose. Not interested. Cliff knew that would be her answer. He was just being polite in offering another stay at his farm, even though he knew the offer would be rejected. Besides hanging on to what might have been Cliff just proposed the outing as a way to fill the gap of silence.
“Alright then, I'm off,” Cliff said then stepped over and kissed Cairn goodbye on her forehead. “Maybe call me sometime, huh?” Cliff said flatly, touching her on the shoulder. He looked inquisitively at Cairn who held a blank stare, then asked, “Alright?”
Cairn snapped out of her stare, looked up at Cliff and gave him a big grin. At that, Cliff walked out of the room. Cairns last image of Cliff was his backside; a well-worn cowboy hat; a plaid checkered long sleeve shirt; worn out jeans. When he left Cairn felt the same emptiness common to many of her flopped affairs.
Cairn spent the early morning packing up everything that she had brought upstairs, which was minimal. Along with one bag of belongings, laid out on the bed were the artifacts the native had left. Two woven pieces of cloth, a stone, a snake skin, and advice that a stone and a snake skin would lead to transition.
On her last morning, Cairn brought Bluebird out of his stall and did the customary tack up. Cairn was reticent. Not feeling especially wired with energy, but rather ambivalent. She went out in the barnyard to soak up the sun rays piercing over the top of the hills. Cairn just leaned against the old barn wood and closed her eyes for a bit. An early morning breeze crossed her path, which she thought unusual for such a stagnant place. She took in a breath and upon opening her eyes, Cairn spotted her native friend. He was bending over leaving large feathers on the ground at her feet. The native looked up at Cairn, bowed his head once in respect then dissolved into thin air.
Cairn looked at the feathers and came to know they were flight feathers from the wings of an Eagle. She didn't know how, she knew that. Yet, this knowledge was etched inside her psyche as if always there. Cairn bent over, and picked up the talisman. She wanted to be sure not to forget them when she left. She took them up to her room and placed the feathers among her other treasures. Feathers of flight meant a higher perspective, possibly another dimension. Cairn mulled over this final puzzle piece given on her last day. The native had given her a bow as if to acknowledge this is where they parted paths. Cairn knew she was in transition, but the future that lay ahead was unknown. Perhaps the feathers of flight meant to keep a lofty view of what lay beneath, but not be afraid of moving forward. A thousand logical reasons could be summoned, but the simple one closest to her heart resonated truth. Change was in the wind.
Snake with a Rock
Cairn mounted Bluebird and headed for the arena. Ten feet before entering it she halted her friend. She had been riding the corral all her days there except for that last night with Cliff. She loved the freedom of no restrictions. Just ride wherever. So Cairn reined Bluebird left and away from the corral in favor of a new adventure. The steps from the night before were easy to retrace. The powder dirt had imprints of hooves. So Cairn just followed the path feeling secure she would make her way back. Up between the crevasses formed from the fingers of the hills Cairn rode. The day was just beginning, so it was pleasantly warm. Cairn clicked to Bluebird and off they went at a trot up a well-ridden trail. The more these two rode the more Cairn had every confidence that she could find her way home.
This country did not seem so complicated in contour or direction. There were hills with rounded summits that ran down into soft folds, which ended up in valley trails. They were all seemingly navigable and lead somewhere: a waterway, another plateau, somebody's homestead, one more pasture. And there was the sun for north, south, east, and west directions. Cairn just figured to retrace the steps of the night before. She reasoned: it's not too hard to follow hoof prints.
Riding the slight upward trail, Cairn alternated between a trot, then a walk giving Bluebird back his wind when the trail climbed. Soon the pair was a top the plateau. Cairn recognized it immediately. Not just because she had been here 16 hours previously, but the entry reminded her of a cemetery. Craggy trees lined the entrance corridor. At least twelve hovering, black, snags which were once robust and healthy reached over the trail with withered dead fingers. Cairn felt the trees were warning all who trespassed, and now especially, her. The warning was natural. Don't disrespect Mother Nature for she shall win.
Cairn stopped between the trees to rest Bluebird inside their meager shadows. The sun was now higher overhead. Cairn had been riding for more than an hour, and had no intention of turning back. She clicked to Bluebird and he complied by moving on. The high plateau offered little. Relatively no trees and those that resisted the elements looked like they were pathetically hanging onto life. Boulders of all sizes were scattered here and there. Lots of sage and low vegetation that thrived in this nubby region.
Cairn urged Bluebird on down the trail. Away from the dead grove warning of imminent danger. The plateau seemed to grow larger in size than from the previous night ride. Cairn blew it off to the fact that she and Cliff had been engaged in some interesting conversations. Of course, she didn't pay attention to the details of the trail either. A keen awareness started gripping Cairn that she should pay close attention. That just perhaps she should have an appreciation for how lost someone could be in these hills without a compass, or knowledge. Cairn reached into her pocket and with regret realized she left her GPS on
top of her suitcase. Then she looked at the ground and realized the path under Bluebird's feet was fading away fast. Another realization came: The elements were constantly eroding this land. Most certainly a path would be swept away with the wind.
Logic should have reversed their direction toward home. Instead, Cairn pressed Bluebird on. They came to a rock formation. Several rocks were piled upon each other indicating to Cairn this was a monument to follow. Each rock had an arrow. All pointed in a different direction. Some had pictures underneath to apparently represent the destination. A crude line drawing of a mountain was under one arrow. A stream under another. Cattle next to another arrow, and on the last rock there was what seemed to be an eagle in flight. She studied the possibilities and the choices. She chose the eagle due to the significance of having a gift of their flight feathers that very morning. Furthermore, the path associated with the feather symbols seemed well worn, making this direction Cairn's final decision.
