by Sue Clifton
“You mean Johnny, the biker boy? Do you want to call the sheriff’s office? I think our cell phones work here.” Harri checked her cell phone for signal.
“No use. They wouldn’t believe us anyway. You know how most law enforcement refuses to believe in our kind of Gifts. Besides, I didn’t get a good look at whoever hit Johnny. The attacker wore all navy, except for red plaid showing under his jacket.” Cayce gulped another drink of water. “I do believe Billie is still alive. I got no vibes from her. What about you, Harri? Did you get any sensations?”
“After I walked away because of the headache that was probably what Johnny felt, I stopped at the front of the building but felt nothing other than extreme drowsiness, probably the aftermath of Johnny’s headache.” Harri rubbed her temple between her fingertips.
“Or the girl could have been abducted and hit on the head like Johnny. Maybe you felt her headache instead of the boy’s.” Cayce considered this for a moment. “If you feel nothing, Billie probably never knew what happened. If I feel and see nothing about the girl, it probably means Billie is either still alive or was not killed at this site. Let’s hope the first part is right, but my senses tell me Johnny is no longer with us.”
“Strange, isn’t it? We go looking for the past and somehow get involved in an ominous present. Sometimes I wish the Way wasn’t so good at finding us.” Harri linked her fingers and put them under her chin. This was a trait Cayce remembered from childhood, something her sister did when she was worried.
****
The next morning, Cayce and Harri remained quiet as they drove, each absorbed in her own experience at the outhouse the day before. Harri picked up the poster and looked at it again, then folded it and stuck it in her purse.
Cayce sensed Harri’s concern for the young couple, but was absorbed in her own fears. Somehow, she didn’t think Johnny was killed instantly. Just before the mist cleared away, she’d sensed movement and heard the sounds of something or someone being dragged. She didn’t think Johnny survived long, because no other vision had materialized.
“What little towns are up ahead? You need to be on the lookout for antique shops if you’re going to get ready to do some pioneer-style cooking.” Cayce broke the morbid silence and got back to the reason they were in Idaho. As soon as she got it out of her mouth, Harri pointed and yelled.
“Look! That sign! There’s an antique shop at milepost sixty-seven at a place called Sluice Town.” Harri picked up the atlas, searching for the town. “It looks like it’s only about twenty-five miles from Bar None. It’s not far from where you turn onto the gravel road.”
“Sluice Town, huh? Sluice is a mining term. Most of these gold mining ghost towns started out with placer mining that used long sluices, wooden structures like troughs, to separate gold from sand and rock with a river-washing process. Bar None started out as a placer mine, a surface mine operation, until the gold from the stream was washed out. No pun intended. That’s when Absalom Duluth used the wealth he had made from mining in Montana to start a lode operation, where they dig mineshafts and mine gold from the rich underground gold veins.” Cayce noticed Harri’s questioning look at her mining knowledge. “I had a nice long visit with my good friend Google.”
“Can gold still be found in the river where Bar None is located?” Harri’s dollar-sign twinkle returned to her eyes.
“It’s actually a big creek—Rocky Creek, to be exact. Joshua said diehards still turn up a little gold while panning on the stream, but no major-sized nuggets have been found in years. Panning for gold is strictly for the hobbyist nowadays. You can’t make a living at it, although the price of gold per ounce is out of sight.”
“No, but I’ll have to try my luck while we’re there. A nice nugget ring or pendant would be a good souvenir of this trip. I better look for a gold pan when we get to the antique shop.”
Cayce and Harri found themselves going deeper into the Sawtooth Mountains. Both were completely absorbed in the scenery.
“This reminds me of the Beartooth Mountains. I think Joshua has bought himself a jewel. How far are we from Sluice Town, Harri?” Cayce pushed the atlas across the seat to Harri.
“Let’s see.” Harri once again traced her finger along the page. “Not that far. Maybe twenty miles or so. Depending on how good the antique shop is, we should be at Bar None plenty early.”
A few minutes later, Harri pointed to a building just ahead that sat a good piece off the road, with gorgeous mountains as a backdrop. The tall cupcake mountain’s white icing had been mostly licked off by the warm summer sun. The range was so close it looked as if the shop was built right into it.
The shop, an old log cabin, must have been chinked and re-chinked many times. A large addition on the back had been covered with weathered boards, and a new out-of-place red metal roof spoke to its seeming success even though its location was isolated. A large sign across the front read Gold Pan Antiques.
“I think you might just find what you need to wash up that big nugget.” Cayce parked the truck in front of one of several hitching posts.
As Harri pulled the screen door open, a bell jingled to announce their arrival.
“Come in, ladies. Make yourselves at home and have a mug of coffee. Name’s Lester, and I’ll be glad to answer any questions.”
The shopkeeper appeared to be in his late seventies or early eighties and could have been left over from the pioneer days. His shoulder-length thin gray hair and stubble outlined a face that looked like one of those Ozark Mountain dolls with its face made out of a dried apple. In Cayce’s cowboy terminology, he looked like he’d been “rode hard and put up wet.” The faded bandana around his neck was the perfect complement to his coffee-stained shirt, faded jeans, and worn-out cowboy boots.
“Oh, my! You certainly do have a lot of stuff.” Cayce scanned the antiques consisting of about eighty-percent junk. Things hung from the ceiling and were propped in every wall, nook, and corner. She’d need to blaze a trail to get through, and wondered how they would ever find anything of real value.
“There’s a roomful in the back, too. It’s a little more organized. My granddaughter has the back room, but she’s not here today. Janie’s gone buying. She’s got it all priced, so if you see anything you want, make an offer. Antiquing ain’t no fun ’less you dicker a little.”
“This could be dangerous,” Harri whispered to Cayce, looking up as she followed in Cayce’s steps heading to the back room.
Cayce turned back in time to watch Harri swerve as pitchforks, wagon wheels, and all kinds of rusted, dangerous-looking iron tools seemed suspended in midair over their heads. Seeing the alarm on Harri’s face, Cayce let her sister pass.
Just before stepping down into the back room, Harri picked up a dented pan with holes in the bottom. “Rocky Creek, here I come.” She stuffed the pan under her arm and stepped down into a large room the opposite of the front of the shop.
“Talk about deceiving. This looks more like Natchez than the mountains of Idaho.” Cayce stood with her hands on her hips and did a quick survey of the antique furniture, china, and everything imaginable. “This is going to be fun.”
“I’m doing a quick walk-through before I begin to focus. I want to know what all is here.”
“Good idea, Harri. I’ll follow you.”
Harri took off, but as usual, Cayce could not keep up with her sister, who walked like a short-legged racehorse. Cayce immediately got caught up in one section filled with primitive pieces. One step-back cupboard, painted with blue buttermilk base paint, looked more southern than western.
Cayce had no idea where her sister went until she heard her calling from the back of the room. Cayce hated to speed past all the wonderful pieces between them, but she could tell Harri was excited by some find. Harri stood in a section set up like a pioneer kitchen.
Sitting in a rocker, Harri looked up from a cookbook and immediately held it out to her sister.
“Look at this, Cayce. I have to have this for my co
okbook collection and for Joshua’s little project. It’s a Mormon cookbook from the early twentieth century, a collection of recipes handed down from the first Mormon pioneers who settled in this valley. They were handcart pioneers. Can you imagine pushing handcarts over and through these mountains?” Harri turned the pages one at a time, and Cayce knew her sister would be held captive to this spot for a long time.
“That’s great, Harri, but I think I’ll just keep browsing. You know I don’t have much interest in cooking, but I’ll be happy to taste-test any recipes you try from it.” Noticing several old cookbooks lined up on the wooden table beside her sister, she knew it was time to wander off before Harri began reading aloud to her.
As Cayce meandered through the building, she came across a section that really caught her eye. An old, slightly faded photograph of a mining town hung on a makeshift wall. Close scrutiny revealed it to be Bar None in 1880. She ran her fingers over the old town scene and smiled at the thought of what lay ahead for her and Harri. Removing the picture from the wall, she tucked it under her arm.
In the next section, she saw an oversized dough bowl hollowed out from a log. Knowing this was something Harri would be interested in, she headed back to where she had left her sister. Harri was engrossed in another old cookbook.
“Harri, there’s a huge dough bowl up here you have to see. It’s the largest one I’ve ever come across. It would look great in The Teacake.”
“Really? That is so strange. I just found a recipe for sourdough biscuits that sounds great. But from the amounts of ingredients listed, the cook must have been cooking for an army. You have to have a starter dough for it. I’ve never had much luck with starters, but it might be fun to try again. Look here.” Harri held the book where Cayce could see it. “Here’s an old picture of a woman kneading bread in a big dough bowl. The caption under it says the woman’s name was Sally Bender, and she made huge quantities of sourdough biscuits for the miners in this old gold mine. She must have eaten a fair share of her own cooking, too. She looks like a short, round gourd doll wearing an apron and a bandana headscarf.”
“Oh, my gosh, Harri! That looks just like the dough bowl I found. Bring the book and I’ll show you.” Cayce led the way after Harri stuck her finger in the book to mark her place.
“You’re right. It does look like the same bowl, but I imagine there were a lot of dough bowls that looked like this.” Harri put the picture beside the dough bowl, and they began to compare the two.
“Look here, Harri. Do you see this long streak of dark grain ending in this knot? It is exactly the same.” Cayce outlined the grain with her finger as they compared it to the picture.
“You’re right, Cayce. It is the same dough bowl. I think I’ve got to have it. What’s the price on it?”
Cayce searched the sides, but could find no price tag. “This sucker is heavy.” Cayce lifted one end. “Pick up that end, Harri, and let’s turn it over. The price must be on the bottom.”
“Two hundred fifty dollars. That’s cheap, Harri. You need this. Maybe we can disinfect it and you can make sourdough biscuits in it.” Cayce leaned down to look closer at the bottom. “Look here. There’s something carved in the bottom.”
“For Sally, the best cook ever! Bar None, March 1879,” Cayce read aloud.
“Hmmm. I don’t think I can beat Sally in the biscuit-making department. Besides, that’s a butt-load of biscuits, even if you’re using Sally’s butt for measurement. You think ‘Bar None’ means something more than just a compliment to the cook?” Harri set the dough bowl back on its bottom.
“Let’s ask the shopkeeper and see if he knows anything about the dough bowl—especially where it came from.” Cayce put the picture inside and moved to pick up one end of the wooden bowl. “We might as well start hauling it up to the front.”
Harri put Sally’s cookbook and the gold pan inside the dough bowl and moved to her end to help carry the heavy piece.
“I’ll make another trip back and pick up the Dutch ovens I found.” Harri was huffing and puffing her way to the front. “So what’s the picture, Cayce?” Harri asked after they placed the dough bowl on the counter.
Cayce turned the picture so Harri could see it. “It’s Bar None in its glory days.”
“That’s great. I can’t wait to see how this picture compares with Bar None in the present, but I’ve got a hunch you’ll be seeing it in the past on your own.”
The old man’s dried-apple face wrinkled more with his big happy smile and could be interpreted as “sale in progress” as he approached the counter where the sisters had placed their treasures.
“Well, I see you found the mother lode, ladies. My Janie said she’d give this old biscuit maker a week, and if it didn’t sell, she was gonna take it home for her own collection. She needs to make a sale, but I think she’ll be disappointed it’s gone.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, tell her it will be much treasured. I’ll take good care of it.” Harri stroked the bowl before taking the items from it. “Let’s see now. How about you add this all up and take maybe ten percent off the top. How does that sound, Lester?”
“Sounds like a deal to me.” Lester began listing each item in a ledger and then added it all up on his calculator. “Will that be check or cash? We don’t take credit cards.”
“It’s an out-of-state check. Is that all right?” asked Harri, hoping not to have to use that much cash so early in the trip.
“Reckon so. I ain’t been bit but once. Got a trustin’ nature.” Lester took the check and put it in a metal cash box. “I’ll carry these treasures to your vehicle.”
To Cayce’s surprise, the older man picked the dough bowl up like it was nothing. Cayce thought this old cowboy must have lifted a lot of hay and bags of horse feed in his day, not to mention heavy antiques.
“You can just put it in the back next to the cab. I’m not driving too fast, so it should be all right.”
“A fifty-two, huh? She’s a beauty.”
Cayce did not bother to tell Lester Hawk was a “he,” and allowed the admirer to continue looking the truck over.
“Had one like it myself, once upon a time, but it was green.” Lester walked around Hawk, eyeing every detail. “I did have an old Ford one time I got painted candy-apple red after a girl I’d taken a hankering to, named Candy.”
Lester smiled, and Cayce didn’t know if the smile was for the truck or Candy. She did not ask.
“Well, my sister’s truck is painted viper red—after her ex-husband.” Harri never cracked a smile as she opened Hawk’s door and climbed up into it.
“How far did you drive it?” Lester either paid no attention to Harri or didn’t get her joke. He rubbed Hawk’s hood as if the old truck was a potential horse for sale. Harri wondered if the old man would raise the hood to check Hawk’s teeth.
“From Montana. I’ve had a lot of work done on it, but the motor is original. I even have to add lead when I fill up with gas.” Cayce set the Dutch ovens in next to the dough bowl.
“Ain’t that something? You must be a lover of antiquities. Where you two headin’?” Lester looked up, still rubbing the hood.
“To Bar None. A friend of mine bought the old town. I’m sorry. I should introduce myself. I’m Cayce McCallister, and this is my sister, Harri Wellington.” Cayce pointed to Harri, who waved from the truck but did not get out.
“Pleased to meet you both. I’m Lester Scott.” Lester gave Cayce a good firm handshake. “We heard the old town is gettin’ rebuilt. You know, Janie bought that dough bowl and some other items from a family that had kinfolk that lived in Bar None in the old days. We’re just spittin’ distance from there as the eagle flies. Kinda over the mountain, but there’s no road that connects us.”
“Speaking of how Bar None was in the beginning, do you know anyone who knows the history of the town? Joshua Devaux, the new owner, wants us to find out as much about its history as possible.” Cayce kept her eyes on Lester, hoping for the right answer.<
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“Sure do. That would be Teesh. Lives in a cabin up the gravel road going to Bar None, about a half-mile or so from the old town. Teesh’s old like me, but she and her family have lived in the area forever. Her grandfather was one of the first residents of Bar None. I better warn you, though. If you get her started talkin’ about the old town, she’ll talk your ears off. She likes company but hates tourists.”
Lester snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. I know just what you need to get old Teesh to be real friendly.” Lester went back inside and came out a minute later with a small white box. “This here is huckleberry fudge. It’s Teesh’s favorite. Janie makes it to sell in the shop. You’re in luck. This is our last box.” Lester handed the box to Harri through her open window. “Don’t forget to tell her I sent you, now.”
“Thank you, Lester, but we’d be happy to pay you for the fudge.” Harri reached for her wallet.
“No, no. Just promise you’ll each try one. That way, you’re guaranteed to come back. Nobody can resist Janie’s fudge.” Lester started walking back to the shop but turned before he opened the door. “You ladies come again—I know Janie’ll want to meet you—and be real careful. Watch for Difficult Road on your right, ’bout ten miles ahead.”
“You mean like a steep and winding road? Or bumpy?” Harri asked.
“No. That’s the name of it—Difficult Road.”
Cayce and Harri both burst out laughing as they pulled away from the antique shop.
“Difficult Road, huh? About that bladder problem, Harri. Maybe we better stop when we turn on the gravel and let you squat behind a tree.” Cayce looked straight ahead, still laughing.
“I can’t help it if my bladder has early onset leakage. I’m older than you, you know. Just stop at the next quick-stop, and I’ll be ready…might even buy some Depends. Just don’t tell anybody.”
“Kegel not working for you, Sister?” Cayce shot Harri a questioning glance. “I hope you’re joking about the Depends. You’re less than a year older than I am, and I’m way too young for that.”
“Yes, I am joking, but a restroom would be nice. I’m not going to squat behind a tree. I know they have rattlesnakes out here, and other creepy, crawly things. Besides, Harriet Wellington does not drip dry or bare her butt in the wilderness.”
