Journeys West Chapter 2 The Saga is Set in Motion
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Journeys West - Chapter 4 - Making Friends In Town free porn video
Chapter 4 - Making Friends in Town
Mary Sue walked the short distance from the bank to the diner, keeping a
wary eye out for unwanted surprises. She opened the door to the tinkle
of a bell and was struck by the ambiance. It was as if she had stepped
through a time warp portal and was back in the 50's. The theme from
Happy Days played softly on the corner jukebox. The walls were covered
with banners and pennants from what she assumed were the local high
school. The restaurant was nearly empty, she was sharing the place with
a small group of teenagers huddled in a back booth, and a couple of
cowboys, 10 gallon hats and all. She wouldn't have been shocked to see a
leather clad Fonzie holding court at one of the tables dotted across the
linoleum floor. She stood blocking the doorway until a party of local
men excused themselves to push past her and take seats in a booth.
A buxom and vivacious blonde bombshell dressed in a black peasant style
top, beautiful pink poodle skirt with black poodle and silver leash
detail, and adorable mesh scarf, waltzed over and handed Mary a menu and
with a brilliant smile said, "Hi, I'm Liz just sit anywhere. I'll be
right with you."
Mary took a table in the corner so she could study the diorama in front
of her. It was like looking at a snapshot of history and she wondered if
this was really what small town American was about. The waitress
flittered from table to table taking orders and flirting with everyone.
To Mary, the waitress had the looks of a homecoming queen, the body of a
bathing suit model and the personality of a Labrador puppy.
Eventually, she made it to Mary's table, standing very close, looking
down at her and fluttering her heavily massacred eyelashes at Mary she
asked, "How may I help you?" Seeing the disbelief in Mary's expression,
she smiled broadly and said, "Welcome to the Twilight Zone. The owner is
a real eccentric and insists on the 50's Malt shop motif, including this
ridiculous waitress uniform. Are you passing through or planning on
staying for a while?"
"Yes and yes. I am following the route of the last wagon train to use
the Oregon Trail, and my car broke down so I guess I will be here for a
few days at least."
Liz sank onto a chair facing her new friend and prattled on about nothing
in particular. She would get up occasionally to serve a customer but
returned to her seat and then picked up right where she left off. Mary
Sue took an instant liking to this flirtatious woman, despite their
difference in age. Mary Sue was no elitist but it was obvious there was
a disparity in their educational backgrounds. Mary Sue estimated Liz was
at least ten years her senior and only a high school graduate, she
conveyed street smarts that made Mary Sue feel somewhat inferior. She
sensed that they could become friends and she hoped that it could happen.
When she could get a word in edgewise, she described her adventures on
the road trip. Liz seemed genuinely interested in her research. The
first non-academician to show an interest in her project, so the
attention was rather flattering.
Liz stared into Mary's eyes with a look of awe as she talked about living
in New York City. Liz reached over the table and gently placed her hand
on top of Mary's as she sighed. "You are so lucky. I was born in this
town, and I will in all likelihood grow old and die here just like my
parents. This place is so dull that watching tumbleweeds is a pastime."
At that moment, the tiny bell over the door chimed and in walked a
twenty-something man, with a Cowboy hat and snake skin boots. The room
grew silent as he walked to the counter with a swagger and took a seat.
Liz quietly excused herself and went to take his order.
After turning the to-go order over to the cook, Liz returned this time
pulling her chair up and sitting next to Mary. "That's Ronald Kaylock.
His daddy pretty much owns this town."
"Yes, I've heard that name; the old man is running for office or
something."
"That's right; he is in a tight race with the Democrat challenger for
Congress. The Kaylock family is ruthless for getting what they want, so
you don't want to cross them. I was almost a Kaylock. Way back when, my
grandmother was engaged to Nathaniel Kaylock. The way I heard it, he
left her standing at the altar. He then married the town's school
teacher instead. From what you've described, she was part of the flotsam
and jetsam left behind by your wagon train. She settled here and taught
school until her death. She was a witch, if you believe the rumors about
her. When she died, the parish minister wouldn't allow her to be buried
in the consecrated church cemetery. They threw her body in an unmarked
grave out in the prairie somewhere. To her dying day, granny cursed both
of them. Kids still claim the old school house is haunted by her ghost."
Intrigued, Mary asked, "I hate to pry but do you know her name by any
chance?"
"Why yes, it was Yolinda or something like that."
"What happened?"
Liz shrugged. "I really don't know. No one has ever actually heard the
story, only vague bits and pieces. Granny was the daughter of the town's
mayor. There has been a lot of bad blood between the Kaylocks and my
family ever since. Every time I brought it up, I was sent to my room, so
I stopped asking."
At that point, a man in a police uniform came in. Liz looked over her
shoulder and ignored him as he stood waiting for a table. Tired of
waiting, he walked over and stood behind Liz, looking imposing. He
glared at Mary Sue with a predatory stare, "You must be that foreigner
from New York City. What are you doing in my town?"
Mary stood up and balled her fist and fought to control her temper,
"First off officer, New York is not a foreign country."
"Don't you sass me missy. I'm the Sheriff and this is my town. Now
answer my question, what are you doing here?"
Liz touched Mary's side and almost unnoticeably, shook her head no,
trying to convey the message to not get into it with the sheriff.
Mary hated anyone who abused their authority, but realized that
discretion was often a wiser course, so she took a deep breath and told
the story of having car trouble on her way to Oregon.
The sheriff accepted that explanation and walked over to Ron Kaylock who
was just getting his order. They had a brief discussion before Ron gave
Mary Sue the visual once over and the two left together.
Liz slumped back into her chair, "Mary, whatever you do, stay away from
our Barney Fife. He may come across as a caricature but; this isn't
Mayberry. He has a real mean streak in him." She perked up again and
said, "Come on, I'll go with you to check on your car. There's strength
in numbers. It's best to limit alone time with Hiram, he actually
believes he's the Hugh Heffner of Wyoming."
Mary Sue chuckled at the small joke and the two ladies walked across the
deserted street and found Hiram bent over the engine compartment. Liz
walked up and pounded on the fender, surprising the mechanic and causing
him to jump so that he banged his head. He came out rubbing a small red
spot on his forehead. He turned to the two women and said, "Ouch, why
did you do that?"
Liz stood in front of Mary Sue. "We came to get an assessment on the
car. When can my friend pick it up?"
Looking around Liz, Hiram spoke to Mary Sue, "For the right incentive I
could work on it all night, and drop it by your motel in the morning."
Liz poked Hiram in the shoulder to get his attention and stared directly
into his eyes, "Knock it off asshole. Mary Sue isn't interested in what
you're selling. Just fix her car, and do it right!" It was obvious that
Hiram rubbed Liz the wrong way and she wasn't afraid to let him know it.
She spun on her heel grabbed Mary's hand and pulled her out of the
garage. "Come on Mary, I'll drive you to your motel and pick you up in
the morning. Unless you would rather spend the night in my room. I have
an apartment over the caf? with a sofa bed that is quite comfortable. It
would give us the chance to really get to know each other."
The suggestive tone in Liz's voice made Mary a bit uncomfortable and she
fidgeted a bit as she suddenly took great interest in her feet. She
fought to maintain a blank expression as she answered, "Thanks Liz, but
my things are all in my room. It would probably be best if I go back
there and get a good night's rest. The motel's not that far I can walk
and pick up my car in the morning. Is the restaurant open for
breakfast?"
"Oh yes, we open at 6. I don't normally work the morning shift, but if
you're coming, I'll be here and we can visit some more."
* * * * * *
Mary arose the next morning refreshed and ready for her day. She
stretched the kinks in her back that she had acquired from her drive and
headed to the bathroom. A shower helped her back relax some more and she
returned to the bedroom, ready for the day. She selected her elegant Ann
Taylor pants suit in the most gorgeous shade of cobalt blue, a dab of lip
gloss and a quick swipe of mascara and she felt on top of the world. A
quick glance in the mirror, displayed not the androgynous bookworm, but
an attractive professional woman. She bypassed her standard backpack in
lieu of a tote purse into which she deposited the very basics of makeup,
a hair brush, her smart phone and several notebooks for recording her
research. She slipped her glasses on and stepped out into the morning,
took a deep breath, and marveled at how clear and fresh the air was.
It was a beautiful day, the sun playing peek-a-boo with white fluffy
clouds. She only had about half a mile to travel, so she set off at a
brisk pace to walk into town, her stomach grumbling. She knew her first
stop would be for a light breakfast, she hoped they had bagels and cream
cheese in this far outpost of civilization.
At the outskirts of town, she came to an old wooden building. She
faintly heard what sounded like a school bell ringing coming from the
building. Deciding to investigate, she walked over and up the three
steps to the door. Sure enough there was a bell and clapper hanging
above a commemorative plaque nailed to the wall. Not seeing anyone
about, she assumed it must have been a breeze making the bell ring.
She read the plaque with some interest. It said, "On this site was the
first recorded school in Wyoming. It was established for the children of
army officers and traders at Fort Laramie. The building is not a replica
but the original town school house, preserved and set up inside to
duplicate the classroom as the one built in 1852."
Trying the door and finding it unlocked, Mary stepped in, the floorboards
creaking under her weight. She was 'wowed by the interior. The
teachers' desk appeared to be the original, it definitely was an antique,
while the desks used by the students were a mixture of original and
reproductions each with a slate and chalk neatly position. She wandered
down the rows to the back of the small room, past the blackboard to a
door. She opened it to discover a living area consisting of a small
bedroom, with a single bed, a dresser and chamber pot. A sign said it
was reserved as living quarters for the schoolteacher.
As Mary closed the door, she felt as if she wasn't alone, almost like she
was being watched. A cold draft filled the room that raised goose bumps
and sent a chill down her spine. Heading out of the classroom, Mary
noticed for the first time a vase with fresh flowers sitting on the
window sill, violets if she wasn't mistaken. Strange she hadn't noticed
them coming in, but the aroma was as sweet as expensive perfume.
Mary Sue walked down the worn steps, uncertain about what she has just
experienced. She left with a renewed dedication to finish her research.
She made a mental note to ask if anything horrendous had ever happened in
that spooky place. She thought back to the ghost comments made by Liz,
but she was an educated woman and Mary didn't believe in the
supernatural. Still as Shakespeare said, "There are more things in
heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." As
was her wont, she decided to keep an open mind.
It was actually a short walk to the center of town. With another rumble
of hunger reminding her of where she was going, her first stop was the
Coal Creek Caf?. Opening the door, Mary was not prepared for the
onslaught of noise; the tiny bell ringing was muffled by the jumble of
voices. The room was packed and it appeared to be standing room only.
Mary had never seen so many cowboy hats in one place. Through the jumble
of bodies, Mary saw Liz looking like a ship in stormy seas. She would
appear and drop a plate off at one table and then be pouring coffee at
another.
Liz finally spotted Mary Sue by the door and she pushed her way through
the crowd. "Good morning! I've got a stool for you at the counter.
Sorry about the mob scene, it's payday at the Kaylock ranch, the entire
outfit seems to have shown up for breakfast." She was almost shouting to
make herself heard over all of the chatter going on.
Like an icebreaker moving through the Arctic Sea, the crowd would part
for the two woman and immediately close in behind them. Reaching the
lone empty stool, being reserved by a dirty old Stetson Hat, Liz picked
it up and handed it to a grizzled cowboy on the next stool. Leaning over
she gave the guy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks Tommy, you're a doll for saving the seat. This is my friend Mary
Sue."
A perfect gentleman, Tom stood with his hat in his hand and nodded toward
Mary, "Pleased to make your acquaintance ma'am."
Mary smiled warmly at the man as she slid onto the seat and picked up the
menu. She had to raise her voice as she said to him, "From the looks of
the crowd, the food must be great here."
"No, it's only fair. But if'n you're really hungry, the steak and eggs
are good. All the guys come here because of Liz. I bet she gets a dozen
propositions a week, some are even for marriage." He smiled at his
attempt at humor. "Every cowhand in the county shows up here just to
flirt with her. Look at her hanging all over Greg, like he is the most
important man in her life. He will get his ten seconds and then she is
off to the next guy."
Then from her left she heard, "Avoid the coffee, we send it out to the
ranch as paint stripper."
Tommy looked over at the guy working behind the counter. "Now Fred,
don't be scaring the pretty filly. The coffee's a little strong is all."
"Thanks anyway I'm not a coffee kind of girl." Waving Fred over she
asked, "What kinds of bagels do you have?"
After a short laugh, he answered, "Lady, this ain't the Ritz Carlton.
You got your choice between white toast and whole wheat toast. Now
what'll it be?"
"Just a glass of orange juice please, I guess it's time to get serious
about my diet." Fred turned away to fetch her juice. She was right, this
was the edge of civilization.
Mary turned to Tom and casually asked, "What's with that old school house
up the road?"
Tom was chewing on a large piece of ham at the time; the question caught
him so off guard he nearly choked on it. Coughing a few times to clear
his airway, he asked, "What do you mean?" He had a guarded look on his
face, like he wanted to know what she had to say but he didn't want to
say anything himself.
She just shrugged. "I was passing by and wandered through it this
morning. I was just wondering about its history."
"That's impossible. It's locked and no one's allowed in unless Mr.
Kaylock says so."
"The door was wide open this morning. Now I'm really curious, tell me
about it and why it's so important to your boss?"
Tommy's eyes narrowed and he looked around without moving his head.
"Look Miss Mary, everyone has firm orders from the boss to keep quiet
about the rumors. With Mr. Kaylock running for office, he told us to be
on the lookout for strangers trying to dig up dirt on his family. If you
knows what's good for you, you will just drop it."
Tom returned to his breakfast and ignored Mary. It felt to her like the
temperature around her had dropped 20 degrees. She finished her juice
and went to pay. Fred just told her to see Liz. Mary waded into the sea
of humanity and found Liz sitting on a handsome young man's lap, wiping
jam off his lips with a napkin. Seeing Mary, she patted him on the cheek
and gracefully sprang to her feet. "What's up Mary?"
"I just wanted to pay and see if my car is ready."
She waved off Mary's money and said, "Put your money away, it's on me.
If you have any problems with Hiram give me a holler, I'll give the pig a
what-for upside his head."
Mary Sue smiled at her. "Thanks, that's very kind of you. Will I see
you at dinner?"
The man whose lap Liz had been sitting on spoke up with a silly grin on
his face. "No, not tonight she has a previous commitment. We have a
standing date on Thursday evenings. I love to put Liz through her
paces."
Liz gave the guy a playful punch in the arm and said, "Chief here is a
real jerk, but I'm afraid he's right. I'm busy tonight; but I'll be here
over lunch, this mob will have moved on by then. Stop by and we can
chat."
Then in a totally outrageous flirtatious manner she said, "Or better
still come up to my room and see me some time."
With a wave, Mary said, "Alright, I'll try. Bye."
Mary walked out and wondered, 'If everyone in town was sex starved.
Didn't they play bingo around here or have square dances anymore?' With
a shrug of her shoulders she concluded, 'The sexual revolution must have
come to town and stayed.'
Out the door, she saw her VW parked on the street outside of Hiram's
garage.
Leaning against the car was Hiram, casually scratching his balls. "Hey
there Miss New York, I got your car fixed. Here's your bill, I'll tear
it up and call it even if you'll have dinner with me."
"What was wrong with it?"
"Oh, it was a technical thing, a girl like you wouldn't understand."
Mary bit her tongue, turned to the ATM behind her, and withdrew what she
was sure would be enough cash to pay the bill.
Handing him the cash, she again demanded an accounting on the car
problem. "The timing belt pulley seized and I had to replace the
tensioner thingamajigie."
Mary Sue shook her head in disgust and got into the car. Starting the
engine, she was pleased to hear it hum smoothly. She was headed down to
the town's newspaper office when a red light appeared in her rearview
mirror.
Mary pulled over to the curb and waited. The town sheriff with his
sunglasses and Smokey the Bear hat sauntered up to her window. "Where's
the fire?"
A bewildered Mary asked, "What are you talking about? I wasn't
speeding."
"Well now that's interesting, 'cause I clocked you doing 17 mph in a 15
mph zone. I don't know how you big city folks operate because we country
hicks tend to follow the law. Now please get out of the car, bring your
registration, and follow me. We're going to my office to have us a
little heart to heart talk." He had obviously contrived this encounter
as they only had to walk around the corner to his offices.
They walked into the stark office. The rooms were rather barren with a
minimum of furniture, reflecting the relative prosperity of the area in
general. The sheriff casually motioned to a metal folding chair placed
in front of an old wooden desk. Mary took that as an invitation to sit.
She sat with her back rigid and held her purse in her lap. He planted
himself in the ratty desk chair and put his feet up.
"Well let's get right to it. I hear you're asking questions about the
Kaylock family."
When the sheriff paused to catch his breath, Mary interrupted him. "I
did no such thing, I asked about the old schoolhouse. But even if I did
inquire about the Kaylocks, it's a free country. What law have I
broken?"
At that the sheriff came to his feet and leaned forward towards Mary Sue
with both hands on his desk. "I'll do the asking around here. You'll
just answer questions. Am I making myself clear?"
Mary took a deep breath and pushed her anger down deep so it wouldn't
show. Then to tweak the pig just a little she went on. "Yes, Sir. I
understand. Now what was your question again?"
"Why are you interested in Mr. Kaylock? He's a good friend of mine and
the town's leading citizen. I don't take kindly to strangers nosing into
his business."
"Sheriff, until yesterday, I never heard of the man. I'm here doing
research on a wagon train and its members that passed through here in
1897."
She handed the sheriff a card with NYU's history department's phone
number. She went on to describe her research project in detail, while
the sheriff listened skeptically. From the glazed look in his eyes when
she was done, she doubted that he absorbed more than one word out of
three.
Just as she had finished her little dissertation, the door behind the
sheriff opened and in walked a slim young woman about Mary Sue's age
wearing a worn yellow sundress and carrying a brown paper bag came in.
The sheriff grumbled at the woman, "Samantha, what the hell are you doing
here, can't you see I'm interrogating a suspect? She's trying to dig up
dirt on your cousin's family."
"I'm sorry Royce." She almost seemed to physically wilt at her husband's
outburst. "You forgot your lunch and I was just dropping it off. I also
needed to know what you wanted for dinner."
"I don't have time to talk to you now woman! Just make me something that
I will like!"
The two women exchanged a sympathetic glance and Samantha backed out the
door.
Turning her attention to the sheriff, Mary Sue said, "Since when did I
become a suspect sheriff?"
"Sorry it's just a turn of phrase, no offense meant. You're free to go.
I'm a letter of the law kind of guy." He might have been letting her go,
but she could tell that he wasn't the least bit sorry.
With that Mary returned to her car and drove to the town newspaper
office. A brief conversation revealed the paper had no original
documents from before 1970. Due to concerns about fire, they had been
turned over to the town's historical society to be converted to
microfilm. The documents had then been donated to the town's library.
Mary Sue was given access to the microfilm records and she tried to work
with the photographic images. She was frustrated to find that the images
on film were too vague for her to use. It was obvious that the
newspapers had been to faded in the first place. She would have to
resort to interpreting the originals herself. She packed up her
notebooks and left for the library, hoping that she could read the
newspapers better than the microfilm copies.
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