DELIVERANCE
A different kind of Postal Service
I hung around
close to home today for a couple reasons: 1. I dread the thought of
getting back in a vehicle. It takes me a couple days to get over a
dose of motion sickness. 2. I also had some errands to run in Aguila.
I had post cards
to mail and stamps to purchase. The tiny, white building with an
American Flag flying over it's stucco walls doesn't look much bigger
than one of the prepaid parcel boxes inside. UNITED STATES POST
OFFICE – AGUILA ARIZONA 85320 in plain raised font spans the
Southwest style false front, common architecture here. I practically
skipped inside. Post offices fascinate me almost as much as going to
the dump. I have no idea...call me weird.
I looked around
for a stamp machine. There was none. The post master lady entered a
few minutes later. She seemed surprised to have a customer. I asked
if they had a stamp vending machine. She laughed: “Honey, we're
lucky to have stamps here.” I purchased 3 postcard stamps at .34
cents each and a sheet of .55 cent regular stamps. .55 cents? How
long have I been gone? The last time I bought stamps, I paid
somewhere around .49 cents for them. In defense of the US post
office, it could be worse. During the Pony Express era – it cost
upwards of $5.00 per ½ ounce to mail a letter. No wonder it lasted
only 2 years. I say when stamps reach the $3.00/per mark, we reopen
the pony express stations across America. Utilize the thousands of
mustangs warehoused in BLM holding pens as mounts. Hire able bodied
men/women off the unemployment line as riders and there you have it.
Three birds with one stone. I'd ride for free.
I had a little
shopping to do at Family Dollar. I was meeting Lynn, Peter and Linn
there as well. We planned to ride the State Trust Lands behind where
I am staying. I puttered around picking up laundry soap, 2 cases of
water and a few other things. I needed ice. The girl behind the
counter handed me the key for the ice freezer outside. As I made my
way out the double glass doors – two men were coming in. I am not
sure how to describe them without offending someone...or something.
They looked like they both walked off the set of Deliverance. I
haven't been leered at like that since I got caught in the middle of
a sea of inmates during line movement. The one and only day I wore a
skirt to work.
“Pa” opened
the door for me while “Boy” passed through the door the same time
I did. I hurried to the ice chest with my basket full of dollar store
items hoping to grab my bag of ice and dash to the truck before the
other brother Darrel showed up.
The key only
opened one side of the double doors on the ice chest. The 4 bags of
ice remaining were tucked back in the far corner of the ice chest on
the locked side. I could not reach it without climbing inside the ice
chest. I got one leg inside the chest and looked around before
committing to crawling in after my bag of ice. Pa's flannel shirt
stretched over a beer gut held back by suspenders begging to snap
hit me eye level. I may not be a spring chicken anymore – but I
bounced out of that cooler faster than you can say “squeal like a
pig.”
“Key don't work
but on the one side, does she.” It was more of a statement than a
question. It was a plot. Pa and Boy were in cahoots with the Dollar
Store. Unsuspecting snowbirds innocently trying to purchase a bag of
ice were coaxed into the ice chest. The door would slam shut and lock
from the outside. I knew if I got into that cooler, I'd be waking up
missing a kidney or worse: as Darrel and his other brother Darrel's
new “mommy.”
I looked at Pa. Pa
looked at me. I really needed that ice..but how bad? Pa said he
needed two bags – I could grab him a couple while I was in there.
Sure. I keep looking at Pa as I put one leg inside the chest. Screw
it. I looked right at him and made eye contact: “I'm going to be
honest here-you make one move toward this chest and I will shoot you
dead as shit.” Pa kind of smiled. I think. It's hard to tell if
someone's smiling when they have no teeth. “Relax girly – Boy has
him some long arms...he'll git that fer ya. BOY! Git in there and git
2 bags and 1 fer the girly.” Boy does indeed have some long arms on
him. Probably comes in handy when he's reaching into two story homes
snatching baby's out of their crib.
I thanked Boy for
the ice thinking it can't hurt to be cordial. Maybe he'd leave me
with one of my kidney's if he thought we were friends.
Lynn, Peter and
Linn pulled in as I was finished jamming my ice into my borrowed
cooler. I was happy to see smiling, familiar faces. Faces with all
their teeth. They followed me to Crandall's where we saddled and made
our way on to State Trust Land.
I took them to the
power line road and headed west. Pete rode J'Lo and Linn rode
Shotgun...a 29 year old barefoot sorrel with a heart of gold. I tried
to keep out of the rocks as much as possible for Shotguns sake.
I imagine every
tourist that comes to Arizona is compelled to play 'What's that
cactus look like.” That one looks like a ballerina...another an ice
skater. That one looks like a stick'em up victim and the two over
there look to be dancing the waltz. We aren't sure what to make of
that one – but he's sure happy to see us. The girls took it a step
farther by rated them on a scale from 1-10 based on symmetry and
aesthetic appeal.
The power line
road passes through a steep saddle. We thought it might be too hard
on Shotgun to make the climb. We tied up to let the horses rest. I
went for a walk to see what was on the other side of the saddle.
I kept my eye out
for the 16 different species of rattlesnakes. I'm told they don't
come out until the evenings start to warm up into the 60's. It's been
in the low 40's and into the 30's some nights...I should be safe.
It's hard to convince myself of that when the last rattler I saw in
Idaho was in late October.
I came to a little
valley on the backside of the saddle nestled in surrounding rim-rock
and saguaro. The sandy bottom of the valley was covered in wild burro
tracks. I haven't seen any actual burro's yet...or javelina for that
matter. Probably because I make too much noise trying to scare off
the 16 species of rattlesnakes.
I looped around
the valley floor and came back via the power line road through the
saddle. I was glad we didn't bring Shotgun – the steep grade was
hard enough on foot. We mounted up and turned toward home.
Jack picked his
way through grease-wood, mesquite, mesa Verde and the many varieties
of cactus such as saguaro, prickly pear and cholla. The ocotillo,
also called The Desert Candlewood – is beginning to bloom with
crimson red flowers at the tips of octopus like tendrils. The
ocotillo is technically a shrub, not a cactus. Now you know. Thank
you Google.
We made it back to
the trailers in under 8 miles. Shotgun seemed no worse for wear. Pete
thanked me for lending him J'Lo and taught me the sign for “your
welcome.” I waved goodbye to my new friends from Colorado, fed the
horses and finished putting away my Dollar Store treasures.
I wonder what Pa
and Boy are up to this cold evening. I'm not sure I want to find out.
However, it does make me nervous for the two hitchhikers we saw
outside the Coyote Den at dinner. Hopefully they won't be needing to
purchase ice until they get to the next county.
 |
| walking down the wash |
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