It Was 2052, High Haven (14 page)

“
Anyway, you can't go, Lindsey.
What about the dogs, your cabin?” said Kevin.

“
The mutts? They'll be fine.
There's the old man that lives over the ridge.”

“
What old man?” said
Kevin. “I didn't see anyone in sight of your place, nothing.”

“
He lives in a dug-out on the
other side of the ridge. He's old, doesn't get around real good. I'm
not in the habit of telling folks that he's there. The dogs have
always gone back and forth between us. I just like to call them mine.
They run right to him when I'm away.”

---friends
in low-w-w places---
the
bar voices
sang
loud and off key
,
one of Lindsey's little lanterns glowed on the table. Her hand snaked
under the table and found Bubba's knee,
squeez
ed
and caus
ed
him to wince.
S
he
turned
from his surprised gaze and
looked directly at Kevin, “Let's go.”

Paintings
stacked and lined the walls, hung from even the low ceiling of Cole's
cabin. Three strides would definitely cover the space, the shed
was
no
more than 12 x 12. A cot crowded up against one wall, a small table
beside it with a bowl and pitcher. Two long shelves spanned above
the cot, high but within reach of the tall painter; piled with paints
and brushes, cans and various supplies, a big bolt of what looked
like canvas material. There was one large window and one smaller and
the door was wide open, a petite hummingbird buzzed in and back out.
In the corner, the
artist
stood in front of the
beginning of a painting
balanced
on an easel.

It
was obvious that the young man's aunt had been completely
correct---Cole's whole purpose was his painting.
“Cole?”
Taylor ducked as the bright hummingbird zoomed out, he and Cissy
stood in the open doorway.

The
artist turned, brush in hand and the hair that was pulled back in a
long tail swished to his back.
The
horses
crossed
Cissy
's
mind. They were welcomed but it was standing room only in the den of
the painter, so they moved to the outside. A bench made from a half a
log stretched out near the shed, the couple sat and Cole lowered to
the hard ground, cross legged. He still had the brush in his hand and
he swirled it across a flat rock, making flourishes until the paint
was gone. “So, what're the travelers up to today? Brother Poe
make you comfy?”

Cissy
said, “Oh sure, nice man.
Not
certain
the mayor was happy for us to be here but the pastor was very
hospitable.
Um-m
,
do you mind if we ask you a few more questions about Secret?”

“
Okay
with me...hey, want to walk into town, go to the cafe?” said
Cole.

Taylor said, “We had breakfast,
so maybe a little later. I was wondering---”

In one smooth motion, Cole stood and
walked a few paces away. The mountain rose upward, bare hard rock, a
rare flat spot of vegetation here and there. Cotton colored clouds
seem to fondle the very top. “Damn, it seems foggy today.
Don'cha think? It's been that way a lot of days lately, sometimes can
hardly see the top of the mountain. I hate the dreary days when I
don't have good light in the cabin.”

Cissy stood and scanned the area, too.
“Not very clear, for sure. You think it's weather? A little
too early for the winter storms, isn't it?”

“
Oh, I've seen it snow in the
middle of the summer up here,” he stuck his hands down in his
pockets. “Don't think this is weather moving in though---crap,
I'm sorry Taylor---what were you asking me? My mind jumps around a
little, I'm not always good company.” He was back on the ground
and smiled up at Taylor.

Among the stew of questions in his
head, Taylor tried to pick where to start. “Well, the
jalopies...what do they run on?”

“
The fuel is pretty close to the
same as that beer you drank in the cafe. The auto lovers around here
just brew their own. You have to remember, the one long rough street
is the only road they travel on---up and down---the vehicles aren't
for real transportation to anywhere, just something for folks to
build and to show off. We do have a few truck like vehicles that plow
the winter snow, deliver things, help folks out in a bind.”

Taylor and Cole talked on about the
uniqueness of the town jalopies; which ones were Cole's favorites,
who was the cleverest builder, which was the fastest and loudest and
which ones the painter had contributed to creating---the most wildly
colorful, of course. The talk faded into the background to Cissy. She
still paced around and observed the landscape that filled canvas
after canvas of the painter's art from various views and
perspectives. One detail that she couldn't spot but had noticed was
somewhere in many of his paintings, a cave. There was often a dark
opening in the depictions of the area through the various seasons.
I
don't see any cave around here. Maybe this isn't his favorite view to
paint.

“
Well, that explains all about
the vehicles, I guess,” said Taylor as their exchange wound
down.

Cole said, “Did Cissy say that
the mayor was rude to you?”

Cissy was listening again, “No,
I wouldn't say rude. I just got this feeling he would rather us move
along.” She sat back down on the bench.

No more than a mutter,
he
would---
the artist swatted away a flying bug of some sort and a
gold medallion on a leather cord at his neck, glinted in the sun.

Taylor said, “It would be hard
not to notice that everyone around here wears a lot of jewelry, gold
jewelry. As a matter of fact it appears that Secret is slightly
gilded. Is there some reason for that?”

The hoop in Cole's ear brightly
circled, he smiled, “We do shine, don't we?” Then the
smile left, “Sorry friend, I'm not privileged to talk about
that.”

Cissy saw him look toward a stand of
scrubby trees that clustered nearby, she followed his gaze, something
moved in the rich greenery, rustled the limbs. A wet tongue bathed
her hand---not Peaches, he was here and begged for a crumb of
attention. Probably just the wind but since the coyotes and spotting
the bear, she was a bit on guard about the wildlife.

“
Let's take that walk into
town,” he was on his feet again. “Don't want the wind or
animals to get to my paintings, let me close up.”

Peaches seemed to be curious about the
tall man that had assorted smells about him, he trotted at his side
and sniffed openly. Cole rubbed the pointed ear, looked toward his
walking partners, “I
do
bathe, ya know. Oils, plants,
cleaners---cafe food, bet my jeans are pretty fascinating for a dog.
Dogs have super smelling senses.”

“
Sure do, that's why they're
such good guards,” said Taylor.

The three moved down toward the town,
Cissy talked to Cole about his favorite subject, painting. “Your
paintings are so interesting. I was curious about where do you get
the paints?”

“
I guess the same way people
have always made colors. I have a few cans or tubes that folks have
brought back to me from scavenging trips. Even though they're dried
up, the colors are there. I experiment with plants and seeds, really
prefer oil based paints but sometimes use water colors. Mixing and
creating the paint is really an enjoyable part of the process to me.
I stretch and mount the canvas from a big bolt of fabric on wood
frames, although I'll paint on 'bout anything.”

Peaches spotted a furry distraction,
abandoned the interesting leg his nose was stuck to and chased the
marmoset around some rocks.

“
Something else---I noticed that
in many of your paintings there was a cave. Is it a cave nearby? I
guess there are some around here?” said Cissy.

“
A cave?”

They all trailed around an extra large
boulder in their path. Taylor whistled and Peaches came back to his
side.

“
Yeah, in lots of your pictures,
looks like a dark entrance in the rocks and one tall evergreen tree
beside it,” said Cissy. She looked over at Cole, he had stopped
and was looking around again. Peaches stopped, too and a very low
growl rolled from his throat. They all had paused.

Taylor said, “What's the matter
boy, is something there?”

“
Cole?” said Cissy.

His long legs were on the move again,
“Come on, I'm getting hungry. Let's move it.” He was
walking ahead of them now and he said over his shoulder, “Lot's
of caves around but you're probably just mistaking a rock or dark
area for a hole. You know, my paints and my skills aren't that
great.”

As they entered the edge of the town
Taylor said, “I disagree, you have a wonderful talent. If it
looked like a cave, it probably was, even poor paint doesn't disguise
a real artist.”

There was no response from Cole and
only Peaches could see his smile.

The afternoon in town was an
interesting one. They had a good lunch, met more of the town folk,
checked out the general store and even talked the nurse at the clinic
into checking out Peaches's injured leg. It seemed to be healing well
but no chances of infection could be ignored for man or beast. They
parted company with Cole at the church.

It was the third morning since their
arrival in town and the warm kitchen of the parsonage had the smell
of pancakes and syrup. Between bites, Taylor spoke to the pastor.
“Sir, the mayor said that we could stay here a couple of days.
You've been more than generous. We would really like to stay a while
longer in Secret and wondered if we could do something around here to
earn our keep.”

Cissy interjected, “I'm a decent
cook and don't mind doing some cleaning. This is a pretty big place
for you to maintain.”

“
I'm a good handyman, don't mind
the scrubbing or chores myself. Looks like you could use some more
wood stacked for the winter,” said Taylor. He looked down at
Peaches, who typical of his brown nosing ways was sitting near the
pastor. “I'm afraid the dog is nothing more than a mooch.
Although, he's a pretty good at setting off an alarm of trouble.”

The man smoothed down a shirt that
didn't look very well washed or pressed, “It would be nice to
have a little everyday help around, not to mention the company. Many
of the towns people do volunteer and help keep up the grounds and
repairs. Just the everyday chores are many. I would be happy to have
you stay on a while longer.”

“
We appreciate that,” said
Cissy and she began to pick up the dishes from the table. “You
go along now, I've got this.” The pastor smiled and eased away
down the hall, with his soft step that hardly ever made a sound.
That's settled then---
Cissy returned her thoughts to
the cave
in the paintings.
Cole was evasive but it has to be around here
somewhere.

If she could've read Taylor's
thoughts, she would know that he had other concerns on his mind. He
was fully aware that Cissy was completely excited to have found the
isolated mountain city, she still just thought this was a great
adventure. There possibly was a cave, it
might
even be the
lost mine and that was probably the very reason that not everyone
here in this protected place offered them a warm welcome. If all
that gold around town came from a source they had uncovered, they
would naturally be extremely protective of it.

Not everyone, such as the mayor, was
as cordial as Cole and the minister. He was certain that eyes watched
them, outside of the artist's cabin and further down the trail to
town. Could've been an animal---
maybe---
his old gut told him
different. And there was more, this foggy smokey atmosphere. Was a
winter storm trying to move in? Was this going to be any early
winter? They had to pay attention to the weather. There was a point
when it would become very difficult to get back down this mountain.

Some deceased trees had been felled,
dragged up behind the church. Taylor went to a shed to find an axe to
do some chopping and splitting.
Well, for now we're here, we're
staying. I'm not going to panic, the woman is no dummy, probably
knows some of these things herself. I'm just keeping my eyes and ears
open,
he looked up at the big sky as he exited the shed,
and
I'm watching this weather.

***