Undead Forums of ZS

Disclaimer -  nobody here is real, anything else is a matter of fevered imagination.   Any place real is used in a fictional sense.   Any resemblance is purely blind ass dumb luck
****

The morning had been one of those perfect days to travel. Not too hot, not too cold, the sort of day that encouraged you to roll down the window and just enjoy what rolled on by. Driving an old Bay Window VW Bus meant I really didn't have much of a choice in this, but I saw the journey as part of my life.
 
 The day started in St George with tanking up and hitting the local Rocket store for a large cup of coffee. This went into my thermal cup, and that into the holder on the dashboard. Thus, now fully equipped to travel, I headed north.
 
 My goal for the day was Middleton, in west-central Utah, a very rural area of the Great Western Desert. There, I would perform some much-needed maintenance items on the Bus before heading on up to Alaska. With luck I could balance my travels with the warming weather and avoid the worst of the coming summer heat. While at Middleton, I would also take the time to visit some local 'attractions', all of which I had missed in my last visit there while heading South to a short-stroke gig.
 
 That was the trouble with working the gig economy as a Nomad. Very often deadlines to secure a gig meant driving long distances to meet a start date. The gig work world was as cutthroat as it could be - a day late could well cost you the gig. This time, I was going North to enjoy some fishing at my place on the Kenai. The cabin would be ready by the time I got there, and some friends would join me later in the summer.
 
 I stopped in Cedar City to top off the gas tank, stretch my legs and make a sandwich for lunch a bit later. I didn't mind eating on the road, it helped pass the time. About midday two things caught up with me, the coffee and a need to stretch once more.
A few minutes later and the perfect spot came into view. At the top of the slight rise, I pulled over into a nice wide spot and checked in both directions. I was alone and could see for at least a couple of miles for anyone else on the road. Since I had only had one vehicle pass me up to now, it was a safe bet this would be a good spot for both a relief break and a nice quiet sandwich.
 
 Stepping out of the bus after shutting off the engine, I walked around the back to the curbside door and slid it open. I took a moment to consider if I wanted a cold iced tea to go with the sandwich but decided on water instead. After setting out my lunch, I walked over to the edge of the road and a couple of steps more to say goodbye to my morning coffee.
 
 Just as I was redoing my belt in anticipation of a good lunch break, I heard a noise over the faint breeze. The noise sounded, for all the world, like a kitten making a fuss. Looking both ways at the road's edge gave me no clue. Cupping my ears, I walked toward the sound. I soon spotted a bag, the kind often used in clothing stores - paper with thin fiber loops for a handle.
 
 "Oh, crap..." I thought. "Someone has dumped some kittens out here and not at a pound."
 
 I cursed silently as I walked up the bag. It was sitting quite some distance from the roadside, as if tossed from a stopped auto. It was shit like this that made my blood boil.
 
 After a bit of thought, I went back to the bus and grabbed one of my trekking poles. The last thing I wanted to do was grab a bag full of pissed off cats. The pole would allow me to examine the bag at more than arm's length. Possibly imaginary safety, just the same, it was better than nothing.
 
 It took just a moment to return to the bag and use the pole to slightly open the top of the paper container to peer inside. What I saw stopped my heart for a few seconds. It was not kitten fussing, it was a red-faced infant!
 
 At that point I went to full-recursive, fangs-out, combat mode. I dropped the pole and did a quick 360 scan to see if there was possibly anyone working up on me. Nothing. I was still alone. Alone with a screaming infant. In a paper bag. On the side of the road. Well out in the middle of nowhere....
 
 As trained by my shrink, I gripped one hand with the other and counted out loud "Ten. Nine. Eight..." until I reached zero. Now back in the here and now, I could examine the situation without fear of incoming fire.
 
 One, The kiddo was alive, because I could hear the wailing.
 Two. The ABCs were covered. Good, for now, without intervention from me.
 Three. This was now the time to pick the next three, most immediate action items to execute. This took all of ten seconds.
 
 "Shoot, move, communicate!"
 
 Well, I didn't need to shoot at anyone, at least not right now. So, that meant I needed examine the kiddo a bit closer - without disturbing anything. Retrieving the pole, I pushed the side of the bag down to expose more of the kiddo. Squatting on the road side of the bag, I made mental notes of everything. The infant was wrapped in a filthy fleece blanket, yellow with little bunnies on it. The blanket was matted with blood and what looked like raw flesh.
 
 It took a second to connect the dots, the raw flesh was now obviously the placenta, and still attached to the infant. My profanity tuned the air blue. I must have missed the miscreants by just a few minutes to no more than a half hour.
 
 Time to communicate - this kid needed help and right now. As in aerial CASEVAC and soonest. I made the bus in about three jumps, the cellphone in the holder showed zero bars, of course. I might be able to raise someone on the VHF rig, but that was unlikely this far out in the boonies.
 
 It took another minute to climb up on the roof of the bus and hold the phone at arms length.
 "Hot damn! One bar!"
 When I brought the phone in close to dial, the bar disappeared.
 
 It took another minute or two to get the earbuds attached, to hit 911, then extend my arm and hit the dial button. The relief that flooded through me quickly faded as the phone continued to ring. The ringing stopped and then a series beeps and boops followed. The ringing started up again.
 
 "911, what is your emergency?"
 I started breathing again, a human and on the first go around.
 
 "I have a medical emergency. I need an air evac right away."
 
 After a short pause, I got "What is the nature of the emergency?"
 
 Okay, fair enough. "Are you recording this?"
 
 The reply was madding. "What is the nature of the emergency?"
 
 Okay, okay - no yelling. "I have a newborn infant abandoned on the side of the road at milepost 75. I need air evac soonest."
 
 This time, the reply pissed me off. "Is this a joke?"
 
 No screaming, at least not yet. "I am assuming this is recorded. I am at milepost 75 on the road between Cedar City and Middleton. I have discovered a newborn infant, sitting in a paper bag, on the side of the road. The infant is breathing, screaming actually. I need to secure the kiddos umbilical cord - right now. I am alone, standing on the roof of my van to even have this connection and about ten seconds from dropping this call. Are you going to launch the chopper or not?"
 
 Something must have kicked in for the dispatcher because she got uber-calm.
 "Got it! How many more need to be evacuated? Was this an auto accident?"
 
 "I have no idea how this all happened. I'm now going to secure the baby. I say again - Milepost 75, seven five, Cedar City to Middleton Road. You copy all?"
 
 "Got it."
 
 As soon as i heard that, I was off the top of the bus and heading back to the kiddo. It took just a few seconds to cut one of my shoestrings and use that to very carefully tie off the umbilical cord, about an inch from the kid's belly. Now all I had to do was stay sane while the chopper arrived....
 
 
Sitting there staring at this kid left me feeling so helpless, it was...painful   I had zero material on hand that could help.  I didn't dare try to give this little thing any water, the effects would be worse than the dehydration obviously setting in. 

Left with nothing left I could do to help, I went ahead and did the only thing I had left in my bag   I prayed.
\\
"Lord, this kid could use some help – a real honest–to-You miracle.  I would appreciate a little help, cause I'm all out here."   Then standing, I finished with a loud , "Amen, Brother!"  Sitting back down, I told the little one, "Okay, kiddo.  We wait to see what happens...." 

Just then, the kiddo's eyes snapped wide open and the screaming stopped.  That stare pinned me in place.  It lasted just a moment, then the faint mewing start up once more... 

That sound was going to break my heart...until another sound popped up.  That sound could only be one thing.  A classic Bell chopper - inbound - at speed.  The wop-wop-wop was unmistakable.  I ran out onto the road and looked – sure enough, I could see a dot in the distance, with the sound getting louder. 

I climbed back into the bus and started the dashcam, before walking in front of the bus.  Facing into the breeze, I held up both hands in front of me at a 45 degree angle, then, I waited while playing the human windsock.  Seconds later, a shark shape blasted by at about 300 feet overhead.  As it pulled around in a tight turn, I could clearly see the Caduceus plastered on the side of the aircraft. 

The chopper showed its belly, nose high, as the pilot bled off airspeed.  Seconds later, the landing gear popped out of the sponsons.  In the blink of my eye, the bird was on the ground and spitting out crew.  Using my arm, I pointed to the bag just off the side of the road.  

One of the crew looked down at the bag, grabbed it and bounced back to the chopper.  The other crewperson, waiting beside the still screaming aircraft, slammed the side hatch closed and climbed into the cockpit.  It was airborne and heading north faster than I could comprehend. 

Looking at my trusty G-Shock, the total time from landing to exit was under five minutes.  Pros, the lot.  And seemingly very well practiced.  This all bode well for their tiny cargo.  At this point, I got on one knee and added a very sincere prayer of thanks.

"Lord, damn if I know how all that happened, but You definitely came thru in the pinch.  Not that I deserve anything.  Thank you."

As I climbed back into the bus, two things struck me.  I had been on the side of the road less than an hour and I still hadn't had lunch.  Before starting up the engine, I took the time to carefully eat my now somewhat stale sandwich and down the entire bottle of water. 

That break gave me some time to think.  After I was finished eating, I pulled the dashcam and popped out the storage card.  I fished another out of the ashtray where I had my little stash stored, then put in a new card.  Mashing the buttons, I let the system reformat this new card and stepped out from the driver's seat.

It took me almost another 45 minutes, but I walked up and down the entire length of the wide verge where I had first pulled off.  Then I went over to where the bag had been sitting and recorded that entire area, all the way up to the cattle fence.  I even took a long shot of the fence both ways to show that is was both tight and straight.  No evidence of climbers here. 

Back in the bus, I popped out the card and replaced it once more.  The two cards now went into a tiny carry case.  These would go to the local heat, as proof I was just some random dude and not some arch-criminal out stealing infants.

Yeah, not a fan of small town cops.  Or big town cops for that matter.  Soon enough, the dashcam was back in place, little green light aglow and I was out on the road again...  I figured I had just under another two hours before I hit Middleton and what I hoped would not be a showdown with the local fuzz.


more to follow

About 30 miles from Middleton, my phone came back to life.  Beeps, boops and shaking indicated someone or some ones had been pinging the living crap out of the device.  Pulling over to allow my full attention to what the phone had in store for me seemed wise. 

Starting with the text messages, they ranged from a polite request to contact the Sherriff's dispatch, which quickly escalated into threats of immediate arrest if I did not comply.  I guess they forgot the standing on the roof part.  I hit the Delete All button and repeated that for the call messages. 

After taking a deep breath, I dialed the number left for the dispatcher.  This was not going to be fun, but I also was not going to drive into an ambush by some hopped up little town oinkers.  I would avoid any confrontational langue – as I had planned to stop by the office and leave a statement of what had transpired anyway.  The dashcam videos were my Ace in the hole for any trouble that could be brewing.
 
The line picked up with: "This is the Sherriff's dispatch non-emergency number.  If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911 now.  Otherwise, stay on the line and an attendant will be with you shortly." 

The Muzak started playing.  Before I could glance at my watch to time how long I would sit and wait, the line clicked, and picked up again.
"Dispatch.   How may I be of assistance?"

"Hello, this is Moses Canyon."

"Well, good afternoon, what can I do for you Mr. Canyon?"

"I'll bet you just came on shift, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"  Not quite annoyed, but close.

"I'm the guy that found the baby in the paper bag.  I'm calling in now that I have cell service.  Your outfit's messages were...intense, to say the least.  Will it be safe for me to drive into town?"

"I'm sorry?"  The poor dispatcher was clueless, which could mean any number of things.  None of them good.

"Okay.  Ah, I guess you missed the shit show.  I called in to request a medivac for an infant I found on the roadside.   Follow up messages from your department seemed to indicate I might just get shot if I drove into town.  Call me overcautious, but I thought it best to call in before I hit town.  You know, to save me some trouble...and possibly my life."

"I going to put you on hold, please stay on the line."  With a click, she was gone.

Since I wasn't going anywhere, I sat and enjoyed the view.  It would be a while for the sunset, so I might as well enjoy the show.  I did note the time as well....  This would be interesting, to say the least. 

It took just over five minutes before the line popped back to life.
"Mr. Canyon, are you still online?"

"Yes.  I'm still here."  She couldn't see me shaking my head.

"Uuummm, okay.  Things have been a little bit...hectic here.  First, Sherriff Tayloe asked me to pass along his apologies.  The individual who sent those messages will be dealt with later, in person, by Sherriff Tayloe.  The Sherriff asked if it would be possible for you come in tomorrow morning, maybe after 9 AM?  That way, you can have something for breakfast and things will have settled down a bit after shift change.  If that's convenient for you that is..."

"No problem.  I plan on staying at the Bide-A-Wee RV Park for a few days anyway.  I need to do some maintenance on my ride, so that will be just fine.   Anything else?"

"No.  And think you for accepting the Sherriff's apology.  If something does come up, we'll call you.  Okay?"

"No problem, please note that I do turn my phone off before I go to bed.  Also, any word on the baby I found?"

'No Sir.  That's nothing we would have access to in any case.  I look forward to meeting you tomorrow."  With that, she broke the connection.

"Well, old boy," I thought, "this shit just got even more weird."

*****
The RV park was almost as I remembered it.  Built on the remains of an industrial park that was never built, other than a massive parking lot, it had some new additions.  I pulled up to the small office building and walked inside.  Almost as soon as the door shut, a very pleasant lady walked into the reception area, showing me a very bright smile.

"Ah!  Mr. Canyon, I happy to see you've come back."

This was a bit disconcerting.  It had been more than a year and I had only stayed a night in-route to a gig in Tonopah. 

"Yes.  I'm back and this time I plan to stay a bit longer.  If you don't mind, how is it..."

At this, the woman laughed.  "I don't get many old-school VDubs with Alaska plates in here.  How long will you be with us?"

"Maybe as long as a week.  It depends...." 

I let my voice trail off.  I really didn't know how long I would be here.  It was quite unusual for me to be in this position.

Pointing, she said, "Have a seat," she slid a card over to my side of the little desk, "I'll need this data, something the town added recently."   At my look, she hastily added, "Owing to the troubles from the construction crews.  A lot of them are...troublesome, others are illegals and some are ex-cons.  Quite the mixed bag.  After a couple of bad problems, the town council cracked down."

I filled out the form and then offered my driver's license.  If I had to fill out this much, I knew she would ask for photo ID.  I was more than a bit curious...

"If you don't mind my asking – construction crews, as in plural?"

The sound she made was less a laugh and more a snort.  "How did you come into town?  Down US 6 and 50?" 

"No, I came up through Cedar City.  I didn't see anything that could be remotely called new construction and unless something drastic has happened, like a massive population explosion, I have no clue as to why you would have..."

She held up her hand.  "I see.  Had you come east from Ely, you would have seen the problem, first hand.  There are several very large solar farms under construction in the West Desert.  Large, as in square kilometers of panels, wiring, massive weird batteries. All of it for California power companies.  Of course, the contracts all went to California companies and in turn, they have brought in all their own crews....  Locals got cut out almost completely." 
Here, she shrugged, "Not that we would have had any real labor force that could have used the jobs, but just the same..."

Wow, I could see that this situation was a ticking time bomb.  That many out of State workers in this small of a town – it could be real trouble, for everyone. 

"I see now why the Sherriff's office said things were a bit...hectic.  I'm more than happy to have a spot in the tent camping area, if that is open..."

Now grim faced, her reply was a bit terse.

"I won't rent to construction trash.  I learned that lesson early.  When they complained to the County board, they were told they could stay in Ely and commute."  She shook her head.  "The last of the snowbirds and winter stay overs have left and the summer crowd has yet to show.  If you would be willing to spend a couple of dollars a day more, I can put you up in one of our cabins.  They have a full bath, double bed and HVAC.  
You're welcome to run an extension cord from the front of the cabin to your bus.  I assume you have a small fridge, almost all the RVs that come in here have one.  Most the cabins are empty right now, but I have reservations for the lot starting late next week.  I'd say you arrived at a very lucky moment, Mr. Canyon."

I'd be a fool to pass on this offer.  Plopping down my credit card, I said, "More than happy to be so lucky.  Any suggestions for laundry facilities?"

"We have a couple of coin-op units in the back of the office building that work just fine.  Most places in town were forced to add laundry facilities.  I'd stay away from the Laundromat in town after dark." 

I stayed silent as she tapped on her little terminal and processed my card for payment.  That last bit of unsolicited advice said volumes on how much this little burg had changed since my last visit. 

"I've set this to actually charge the card on checkout, but have reserved payment enough for a week, if that's good for you?" 

"Exactly as I expected, everyone else does this, so no problems.  Can you suggest a restaurant for my dinner tonight?" 

Her reply was somewhat off kilter for me. 

"What did you have in mind?"

That caught me a bit short.  Pausing a bit before a reply allowed me to come up with something a bit more polite than I might have said without thinking.  If I only had one bad fault, it was speaking what was on my mind, not always the best choice in polite company.

"I'm not really a fussy eater.  I normally chose whatever the special is for the day...unless it's fish.  I prefer to catch my own fish."

"I see.  It's Wednesday, so up to Carl's place they normally have meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, with greens and apple pie.  All served family style.  As a singleton, you'd have to sit at a table with strangers.  Most folks don't like that."

"And I would be one of those folks.  Anything else?"

"Yeah.  We now have a couple of fast food franchises in town, if you can stand the choke and puke chow they serve.  I don't."  

She gave me a funny look before adding, "Look.  A couple of my kids are coming over for dinner.  We're having spaghetti and meatballs, garlic toast, greens and homemade ice cream.  I've got room for one more if that would be something you're interested in..."

Now caught flat-footed, I had no idea of how to reply.  Acceptance to eat with a strange family, an uncomfortable situation for me at best or turn it down and face the possibility of a bad reaction.... 

I settled for, "I'd hate to impose like that, especially on such short notice.  I also have some laundry to do.  Thank you so much for the offer, perhaps another time.  I can pick up something from the deli at the market to go with my laundry chores."

She silently handed me a key and pointed toward the line of cabins. 

*****
I would be lying if I said the long hot shower in the morning was anything but a luxury.  Thus, fortified by the shower and a good night's sleep, I headed into town.  The sign said Café and the open parking spot on the street out in front of the building made the choice for me.  

Walking in, I was greeted by a large, L shaped bar and to the other side, a set of booths.  Both were nearly empty.  I took a seat in the booth with a window that allowed me to keep an eye on my ride, while looking for a menu.  No luck. 

A soft voice, and a large glass of water showed up together at my booth.

"Want coffee with your meal?"

The girl asking me the question could not have been over 15 years old, if I was forced to guess.  But then again, I had little to do with teens anymore, so I could be off by a substantial amount.  I was also not going to ask her age.  The baggy shirt and long skirt didn't help any either.

"Yes, please.  With cream and sugar.  Can I get a short stack with a couple of eggs, over easy?"

I've yet to find a café that didn't offer pancakes as a short or long stack.  Eggs recently had become a real question, however.

"Certainly.  What kind of syrup?"

"None, I'd rather have honey.  Less sugar and all that."

"I'm sorry.  Until the bee herders come thru this year, we don't have honey for the pancakes and such.  Last year was a bad one for production."

I had to chuckle.  "Okay, you win.  Bee herders?"

That got a light laugh in return.  "The bee herders come thru at least once a year when the clover and that is in bloom.  They set up their hive boxes all over near the fields.  Farmers get a 10 or 15 percent cut of production for the use of their fields and the honey guys get a product that they can claim as organic."  She paused for a second, "Nobody here sprays any gunk and almost everyone uses manure from the feedlots to go with the clover for regeneration between crops."

"Thank you for the explanation.  How about some peanut butter instead?"

"For your pancakes?"  She sounded somewhat hesitant with the question.

"Ahhh, okay.  I'll ask the cook and all.  Want any juice or that?
"
"No.  Thanks for asking." 

With that, the waitress floated away to wherever one talked to the cook.  I pulled out my phone to check for any messages as I didn't see any local newspapers being sold, unusual for a rural town.  Before I could scroll down to the menu item needed, a large mug of coffee, with a small container of cream slid across the table, and a few sugar packets landed next to the coffee.

"Be another couple of minutes for your pancakes.." 

This was shared as she slipped off to deal with a new customer now sitting at the bar.  I had to blink for a moment, I just noticed the young lady had very red hair done up on a spiraling braid.  That was enough to get me started on the coffee.  I needed to fully wake up before I talked with the Sherriff. 

The waitress soon arrived with a large dinner plate filled with my pancakes.  She also put a smaller plate filled with small plastic serving cups, marked a peanut butter, next to my coffee cup.

"The cook indexed your eggs an account of the peanut butter.  Most folks take 'em that way normally."  She paused for a second, "Least around here they do."

I could only ask, "Indexed?"

Another chuckle was followed by, "In-between the pancakes.  You know, indexed."

"So deska.  Thanks.  That really is the only way to have peanut butter on the 'cakes anyway."

Before she walked away, she slid the bill under the creamer.  I was beginning to think this place was all right in every way I wanted.

I finished my coffee at the same time as my pancakes.  The eggs were suitably runny and the peanut butter was actually fresh for a packaged item.  I picked up my bill and headed for the register by the door.  It was no surprise when my red-headed pixie was waiting for me.

"Was everything okay?"

I was struck almost dumb for a moment.  Her eyes were the most luminescent green I'd see in...well, nearly forever.  I shook my head before speaking.

"Actually, perfect.  Best breakfast I've had in some time."  I paused for a moment before asking, "It is crowded in here for supper?"

"Yeah.  After five until pretty late, say, eight, we get buried by the construction crews.  Bad enough we have a limited, three item menu – it's the only way the cook can keep up." 

I nodded before adding, "How about you?  Crazy busy all night?"

At this, she turned beet red, not only her face, but even her arms turned color.

She whispered, "I don't work the late shift.  Marcy and Alice do that.  I...don't"
I worked to control my voice.  The harassment must have been horrific to produce this much of a reaction. 

"That bad?  I'm sorry.  I guess at some point, they will all go away."

"Not soon enough.  I can't even walk over to see my friends after dark unless one of my brothers walks with me...."  She muttered something under her breath. 

I stayed silent and handed over a twenty.  As she started to pull out some change, I said, "Keep the rest as a tip." 

With that, I walked out and climbed in my ride.  The situation here in town was likely well past the explosive stage and was edging into the 'wild shootout' stage of things.  I wondered if my plans to stick around were now worth the potential trouble....
Finding the Sherriff's office was as simple as following the signs thoughtfully posted on the side of the road.  I pulled into a nearly empty parking lot and entered the large and all concrete building.  It looked new, so maybe all the taxes the new solar farms were bringing in had some positive side effects.
I walked up to the small desk inside the front alcove.  Nobody was in sight, so I called out – "Hola?"

The expression on the face of the deputy that arrived was the first clue my choice of greeting had been a serious error.

Before he could speak, I offered, "Good morning.  Moses Canyon to see the Sherriff.  I believe he is expecting me?"

A gruff "Hang on" was all I got in reply as he left.

This was going to be worse than I had imagined when I got up out of bed this morning.  It was also a learning experience for me.  I had to imagine the longtime residents of Middleton were aghast at the changes inflicted on the town of late. 

The door next to the desk opened and a heavily tanned man waved me in.  I followed silently until we entered a good sized office.  The walls were bare, save a lone official-looking certificate of some sort.  His desk had a standard three tier set of boxes, filled to near overflowing and a small terminal squatted beside the desk on a small credenza.  A single chair sat in front of the desk.

This was a man who clearly did not entertain in his office.  That then set the tone for my next words.

"Can you record this?  I only want to tell the story once."

He nodded, then reached into the desk and removed a compact digital recorder.  From the wear marks, I could see it was well used.  He punched a button and then waved his hand.

"Thank you."

I pulled out the storage cards and sat them on the table.  Pushing one over to his side of the desk, I said, "This is from my dashcam.  It will show me leaving St George, stopping in Cedar City for gas and then stopping again.  I stopped to relive myself of the large cup of coffee I drank after leaving in the morning.  It starts again to show the medivac chopper picking up the baby and hauling off."

Pushing over the second chip, I added, "This one is a super high def, I guess 8K, where I recorded the road verge ahead of and behind where I had parked my bus.  It also shows the area around where the bag was discovered and on to what I assume is an exterior cattle fence.  For what's it's worth, I saw nothing.  No trash, no tire marks.  Nothing.  I thought I would record the area to save someone a trip all the way out there for nothing."

With that, the Sherriff reached over and shut off the recorder.

"Thank you, Mr. Canyon.  That was succinct, to the point and had no bullshit.  I have to ask, how long were you in?" 

My surprise must have shown in my expression.

"Come now, Mr. Canyon, your telephone call alone marked you as a Vet. "  He smiled, "I'm only surprised you didn't call it in as a 9-line request."

He had me dead to rights.  I suppose if he hadn't figured it out, he would be worthless as a Sherriff. 

"Just over ten years.  Marines.  I was medically retired about 8 years ago, more or less."

He nodded.  "After 6 years with the Big Army, I had my fill of seeing the waste and stupidity and bailed while I was still whole.  Did some time in the Salt Lake Sherriff's office, then came down here and ran for office.  Here we both are..."

"So, you're good on my statement?"

"Absolutely.  It may have been something you missed, but everyone here knows you could have just gotten back into your van and driven away, with nobody the wiser..."   He paused for a long minute before adding, "Except you.  You did the right thing and tried to help."

He stood and reached out his hand, "Let me say, thank you for caring.  For doing the right thing.  That is becoming so rare these days..."

I shook his hand.  "It really isn't that hard – if you want to live with yourself."
He sat back down.  "I'm good, how about you?"

Not quite a dismissal, but an indicator of just how busy the guy must be each and every day.

I hesitated, and then asked, "I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind.  I can see you and your staff are stretched pretty thin.  I also have to guess that nobody political will let you staff up for this construction work, only to have to cut staff later when everyone goes back to wherever they came from." 

That got a slight nod.   He was staring at me intently.

"The questions?"

"Two.  My waitress this morning in the café, she was dressed like a bag lady – floppy shirt and long skirt.  Teens don't dress like that unless they're in a cult or something.  She also mentioned needing an escort after dark.  Is it that bad?"

Grim faced his reply was not too big a surprise.

"Red headed kid?  Green eyes?"  I nodded yes.
"Yeah.  That happened last year.  Little Sonya got grabbed at work by a couple of yahoos that didn't understand that in our 'culture'; that crap would get you beat to a pulp, if not, shot.  We got there in time to keep them alive.  After they got healed enough, we turned them over to ICE for deportation.  I ensured they fully understood that if they came back, I would not protect them a second time." 

He shook his head, jaw clenched tight - "I told them I would personally take then down to one of the big pig farms in Milford and feed them to the pigs myself...."  He took a deep breath.  "Next question?"

"How is the kiddo doing?"

He leaned back for that one.  "You're going to have to talk with Doc Rupiah on that one.  Some kind a Federal crap, HIPPAH stuff..."  He added through clenched teeth, "They won't say shit to us, even when they get obviously abused children from the construction camps.  I have an open legal case against the hospital corporation.  East coast mooks - the State folks are working on pulling their permit to operate.  Nothing against the staff, it's purely management. "

He stood.  "I'll call the Doc for you – so he knows you're coming."  He stuck out his hand once more – "Thanks again, everyone here knows the score."

That was clearly a dismissal.  After shaking his hand, I walked out the door.  I could find my own way out.   I stopped by the reception desk on my way out.   This time, a lady was working the phone.

"Excuse me?"  She held up a finger at the start of my question.  After a second, she looked up.

"Hi.  I'm new to town.  How do I find the hospital?"

With a smile, she said, "Go back to the main road.  Turn left.  At the next street after the traffic light, turn right.  You'll see it right away.  Go past the entrance marked as Emergency.  Take the next entrance.  Parking is around back.  Okay?"

"Perfect!   Thank you for your time."

"No problem Mr. Canyon.  Please be careful when turning.  Traffic will be building by now..." 

With nothing more than that, she turned back to her work.  I went back to my bus.  I now had a lot to think about....

more to follow

I was surprised at the size of the hospital.  Middleton was a smallish burg, maybe three or four thousand folks.  Though, for this part of the State, it was a major population and commerce center.  Parking was no problem, and I soon found my way inside to the reception area.  Now, no doubt, the fun would begin.

Walking up to the desk, I found a rather young person behind that desk.  This struck me as odd, then again; this entire episode of my life was working its way up to top billing for wierdsville.  Oh well...

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

That netted me a glare and a nasty, "Would I be sitting here if I didn't work here?" 

I returned the hard look.  I decided to jump in with both feet, what the hell – why not?

"Well, since you don't have an ID showing and every accredited facility I've been in to date mandated staff wear an ID, I'll ask you stow that punk-ass attitude and point me to someone here that can help me..."

The kid turned back to his cell phone with a snarled "Screw you, old man."

As I was pondering just how much time in the lockup I would get for bouncing this little asshole off the wall, when a woman ran up.  She was frazzled looking, to say the least.

"Del!  How many times have I told you, you can't sit out here?"

"And how many times have I told you my phone won't work in the break room?"

I could tell this was going to be part of an ongoing war I wanted no part of, so I just walked away.  At some point, I would get stopped, by Security if nobody else and I would ask about the Doc then.
Surprisingly, I made it all the way into the Radiology department before someone stopped me. 

At the polite, "Should you be here?" I replied with "Probably not, but I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah..."

"Ah.  She works down in the ER wing.  Go back and turn left, not right, at the corridor intersection." 

"My thanks."

I tossed this over my shoulder before they could ask anything else.  I quickly found a classic set of double doors marked for the Emergency Department and walked in.  At the nurse's station, I got the attention of the standing nurse by saying, "Excuse me.  I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah.  The Sherriff sent me..."

I'd spend enough time wading through the Marine bureaucracy, I was prepared to go big or go home.  The worst they could do was to throw my ass out on the street. 

He didn't even look up from the keyboard. 

"You know better than to be in here.  Go back to the triage area and look for her there..."  This was accompanied by a vague arm wave. 

Heading out in the direction of the waved arm, I made it through another set of double doors and into a what looked like a waiting room, this one with another set of doors clearly leading out into the bright sunlight. 

This time when I walked up to the reception desk, I found an older woman who quickly asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah.  Is she here?  I was sent over by the Sherriff..."

"Just a moment..."

She picked up the handset of the phone, hitting several digits.  A moment later she spoke so softly, I couldn't make out what she was saying.  After dropping the handset back in the cradle, she pointed wordlessly to another woman walking up – this one wearing a light blue overcoat.

Before I could speak, she simply said, "Moses?  Please follow me..."  With she turned and walked rapidly away.  A few minutes later, she entered a small room and waved me in. 

This place had a nice couch, a set of padded chairs and a small desk with terminal in the corner.  The wall were bare, only covered in some kind of light bluish material.

"Please have a seat.  Sherriff Tayloe told me that you would be here today."

"Yes Ma'am, I'd like to know how the baby that came in via airevac yesterday is doing?"

She sat across from me in one of the chairs.  She took a deep breath before saying, "Moses?  May I call you Moses?  My name in Ria.  I have to ask a few questions first before I can..." 

Right then I lost my cool, or what was left of it.

"For Eff's sake!  How hard is it to just answer a simple question?"

To her credit, she just sat there passively before quietly asking, "Are you quite done?"

That was as good as a backhanded slap to my face. 

"Yes, Ma'am.  Sorry.  It's just that.."

She held up her hand.  "No problem, I hear it all the time.  If I may...?"

"Go ahead." 

I had no idea where this was going but I knew it wasn't going to be fun...  Educational perhaps, but not at all fun.  The hard, sharp edge of reality is rarely fun...

"Thank you for allowing me to explain.  As you might surmise, this facility is very expensive to operate.  Horribly expensive.  Despite what many consider high billing costs, this only covers part of the revenue need to stay open. That means we need additional funds. Those funds come from the Government – Medicare, Medicaid and so on, both Federal and State, yes?"

I nodded.  Medical costs were a giant sinkhole that seemed to eat money with little to show for it.  Even I knew that much. 

"Ah.  Those funds all come with strings.  That is to say, Laws, regulations based on those Laws, rules based on those regulations and policy to implement all of the above.  It is quite the dance to meet those requirements to avoid having our funding strings cut.  Because, if we don't dance to their tune, we lose the funds.  Which means we shut down.  That would leave the people here with as much medical care as could be provided out the back of a van by paraprofessionals or in a doctor's office.  Yes?"

"Yes." 

"So, to dance to this tune, I must be careful.  With money comes politics, and you know what that means.  So, please, dance with me so I can answer your questions.  Yes?"

"Ask away, Ria.  And thank you for the backfill."

"No problem, Moses.  What is your relationship to the patient we have registered as Baby Doe Number 6?"

To that, I gave her the Reader's Digest version of the story given to Sherriff Tayloe.

"Very good, Moses.  Describe what care you offered to Baby Doe Number 6."
She quickly held up her hand to add, "I have a reason to ask, so, please."

I described the shoelace patch I attempted.  Holding up my hands, I added, "Honest to God that was the best I could do...you know?"
My tears came unasked, I couldn't help myself.

She held up her hand again before gently asking, "Can you prove you were the one that provided this care?"

Her eyes said 'keep your cool and stay with me on this...'

I had to think for a second, the Sherriff had my videos.... 

"Ah!"  I held up my shoe.  Pointing to the short sided lace, I said, "I used my shoelace to tie off the umbilicus."

That got a large smile. 

"Final question.  Will you swear or affirm you are the one Moses Canyon as identified to us by the local Sherriff's department?"

I sat there open-mouthed.  This shit had gone far enough....

"This is where you say 'I do swear or affirm', Moses...."

"Ahh. Okay.  I do affirm."

To my utter surprise, she clapped her hands nearly shouting "BINGO."

"What the hell??"

She walked over to take my hand for a moment, before sitting back down. 

"Thank you for working with me.  Utah has a law.  An old law.  One passed back before computers, State-wide radio nets and all of this stuff we have today.  Inside of this old law is...not a loophole, but, perhaps, a very small crack.  And in this crack, I can establish that you had provided pre-hospital,  critical, lifesaving care.  Absent any other governing legal authority, you now have a legal right to be part of any care provided to this patient who is otherwise unable to give informed consent." 

She smiled.  "Minus all the legal Latin boilerplate and such, you are now what roughly translates to a shadow Guardian.  You may provide input on the care given to the patient while not being responsible for costs or outcome."

I blurted out, "You have got to be shitting me!" 

"Sadly, Moses, I am not.  Between big insurance money, lawyers and politician's we have arrived at this sorry state of affairs." 

I could only shake my head.  "Fine.  It is what it is...  How is the baby doing?"

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that Baby Doe Number 6 passed away this morning, at about 3 AM.  Despite all that the staff tried, she was just too far gone."

It was if someone had ripped out my heart.  I could only sit, numb and disbelieving.  Gone...?

Here, Ria walked over to the desk and looked at her terminal.
"It's lunchtime.  Let me buy you some lunch and we can talk freely there.  Yes?"

I could only nod...
Soon, we were sitting at a private table in the hospital cafeteria.  Ria had chosen a salad, I was happy with a glass of iced tea.  Breakfast hadn't been all that long ago.

"Moses, I'm sorry for your loss...our loss.  The NICU staff was just so devastated."  She shook her head. 

"But we can only do what we can do, nothing more.  After that, it is up to Deity for the outcome."

That caught my attention.  What an odd word to use...
"I'm sorry, Ria.  But – Deity?"

"Yes, Moses.  Deity.  I work every day in an environment that deals with a vast multitude of different belief systems and cultures, and some people with none of these at all.  Despite being in rural Utah, it isn't one world, even out here..."

This was not worth a philosophical discussion right now.  Maybe later...

"Okay.  I assumed the baby had a crack-head mother..."

"No, sadly.  Heroin addicted, more like.  We found metabolites for opiates in her blood.  She was born addicted.  I have added that information to our report sent to the Coroner.  My assumption is that he will use that information as a basis to recommend criminal charges for child abuse up to manslaughter in his report to the State."

She paused for a moment.
"That is, if they can ever find anyone to charge.  That looks increasingly unlikely." 

I chose to let that one go.  Raging at the impossible is always a waste of time for everyone and will just give you an ulcer in the end. 

"About this Baby Doe Number 6 business.  What's that all about?  I thought..."

Ria lifted a finger, which stopped me cold.

"We have to uniquely identify everyone that we take into our facility.  It's both company policy and the Law.  Given the circumstances, we with go with a standard template that is widely used.  Since she was the sixth orphan or unknown baby to be registered..."

I couldn't help myself.  "Holy crap!  You have that many babies that come in..."

"No, Moses, we don't.  The County keeps track of these.  I believe the current count started in the mid-1950s.  This is necessary as any future legal action must have a unique identity for the victim.  That would only make sense, yes?"

I could only mumble, "Sorry.  I keep stepping in it.."

"Hardly."  This said with a hint of a smile.  "What else?"
"What comes next?"

"Not much else for the hospital.  We've transferred her remains over to the Coroner for his workup.  We'll make a file and in all likelihood, the file will be purged in the next five-year cycle.  That bit of paper goes over to the County.  What they do with it, you'll have to ask them."

"With that, she disappears, as if she never existed..."

I could see that hurt Ria, even though I hadn't meant to do so...

"There is little to nothing I can or could do about that, Moses.  I have real world legal constraints, both from the government and the Corporation." 
Here she sat really silent for a couple of minutes as I nursed my tea.
"However, that's me.  You on the other hand...you can do a lot about that."

"I'm sorry?"
"You have now been established as a kind of legal Guardian.  You can bestow for her a first name.  You can make arrangements for a burial service or even a headstone...all on your dime, of course.  You are not powerless.  At least, not completely."

She held up a hand, "This is why I led you in that dance earlier.  I'm so tired, sick to death of..." 

She looked into my eyes, "But you'll have to clear all of this or any
other actions with the Coroner first, he has legal custody of her now."

"In that case, Ria, I have a man to see about Baby Jane.  Thank you for so much for your time and understanding in this..."

She touched my hand, "No, Moses.  Thank you.  Thank you for giving a damn when you could have walked away.  I don't see a lot of that today between strangers." 

She paused for a second before adding, "The Coroner's office is on the other side of Main Street on this road.  Can't miss it, large building with a van or two parked out front."

Ria stood in the doorway, waving as I drove off.  I chose not to notice the tears streaming down her face.
Despite the directions from Ria, it still took me nearly a half hour to find the stupid building.  She forgot to mention it would be hiding behind the local high school football pitch.  The stadium seating was just tall enough to block seeing the building from the road. 

Once I got that sorted, it took a bit to find my way to the parking area.  I supposed, given the size of Middleton, even the County-wide Coroner would be a low-traffic situation.  The entrance was plainly marked and unlocked. 
The entrance was a small alcove, with a set of doors; one to either side of the wall facing the entrance.  That wall had a hole, one holding a shelf just a few inches wide.  As the door sighed shut behind me I heard a muffled beeboop sound announcing my arrival.  Given my reception at the Sherriff's office, I decided it would be smart to keep my piehole shut. 

A few moments later, a young woman walked up, but not too close to the 'window', and with a smile, she started to speak.  After tilting her head she spoke.

"Are you...Moses?"

I managed not to laugh as I replied, "I'm a Moses, but not the Moses."
Her laughter was...infectious. 

I've learned to keep my mouth shut when guessing the age of a woman.  Being rarely correct had been embarrassing more than once.  But if this girl wasn't ditching class at the local high school, I really needed to recalibrate my assessment parameters.  I noted her deep tan, longish blonde hair, now held in a ponytail and that she was buff enough to be either a farmhand or a weightlifter.

"Gotcha.  Give me a second; I'll go fetch Doc McCarthy for you..." 

As she disappeared through what must have been a door out of my sight, I gave her appearance another thought.  Her short-sleeved blouse had a patch on one arm, a patch showing a Caduceus.  What that might mean in a Coroner's office was a mystery to me.  I made a mental note to ask about that. 

It took a couple of minutes, but then she returned with a middle-aged man in tow.  He was wearing a white lab coat, so I marked him as the fellow I wanted to talk with....

He started with, "Mr. Canyon?"  At my nod he continued with "Burt called yesterday, said you'd be long at some point.  Hang on..."

A few seconds later, the door to my right popped open and Mr. Lab Coat waved me in.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed that his assistant hadn't been the one to let me in. 

Anyway, I followed my guide until shown into a rather spacious office, one with an outside window.  Pointing at the chair by a massive desk, he took a seat and once more graced me with a smile.

"Before you ask, Gwen is here on rotation.  I have the ambulance Paramedics pull at least a week long shift here as part of their ongoing training.  Required by law, their certification agency and it puts some real money into their pockets." 

"Ambulance crew?"  I couldn't keep the puzzlement out of my voice.
He shook his head.  "You've been here long enough to hear about all of the construction...yes?" 

At my nod, he continued, "When the construction companies showed up to get all their permits, they demanded a full-time, paid ambulance service to support their crews.  The County Commissioners, to their credit, told them they could have whatever support they wanted to pay for." 

I couldn't help myself.  I laughed out loud.

"I guess the demands for a tax holiday, reduced taxes and the rest went over just as well..."

He leaned back into the overstuffed chair.  "I missed the meeting.  I would have loved to have been the fly on the wall.  The County had been burned pretty badly in the past by the folks that put up the egg factory, so the Board was having none of it.  I heard that one of the Board members told them to stuff their demands where the sun doesn't shine; they were more than welcome to cover California with solar panels..."

He sighed, "They showed up anyway – the land leases here are a faction of what is demanded in California and despite paying full fare here, the taxes are a pittance to what they faced elsewhere.  They howled and fussed, but the Board held firm.  That didn't help in the long run."

"Let me guess, paid lobbyists hitting the State capitol?"

The grim faced reply said it all.

"More like a plague of locusts.  The State-level weenies could only see new revenue to loot and not the real costs to locals.  It took a lawsuit by the Mayor here to put a stop to it.  Home Rule and all that."
Now leaning forward, he said, "You didn't come here to discuss the local tax scene or politics.  What can I do for you?  Bert said you'd be by at some point.  I thought not.  I'm happy to be wrong.  "

I gave myself a few seconds to digest that last statement before starting. 
"Ahh, yeah.  I just left the hospital after lunch with Ria.  I have a couple of questions..."

I noted the play of emotions across his face as I waited for his reply...

'I would strongly suggest you not ask to view the remains of Baby Doe.  As bad as she looked out there, the sight of the efforts from the NICU staff are...not for the faint of heart.  My examination didn't help things on appearance.  She wouldn't get an open casket funeral anywhere around here." 

I just nodded.  "Never a consideration for me.  I hate the open casket thing as a matter of preference.  Last seen, best remembered.  That sort of deal, eh?"

He nodded.  "Okay.  I get that.  Ask away."

This was going to take a while, so I shifted my weight in the chair and folded my hands into my lap...

"What happens to the remains of these Baby Doe types?"

"All unclaimed remains are cremated and interred at the common grave area behind the regular crematory.  The graves are marked with a tin plate, one with holes punched into the plate with the coroner's case number.  Currently, the local churches are on rotation to provide a simple service, unless some identifying material is found with the body.  Say, a crucifix necklace for example.  Then the Christian pastors flip a coin."

He paused for a long minuet.  "We aren't completely heartless, but with no known relatives, not much else we can do- or afford to do."

"just a wooden box in a hole, eh?"

"No, Moses.  Not quite.  The local pottery club got together a few years back and started making clay urns for the ashes.  I give the head of the club an estimate of the volume required and about a week later, one of the members' drops off a fired urn.  Some are quite...striking."

I nodded my understanding.  The community involvement seemed about right for small town USA.

"How long do you keep the...remains?"

"If there is an open investigation, we store the remains until the case is closed.  Otherwise, the remains are cremated within 30 days.  Usually, this all happens a lot sooner.  I have very limited storage space here..."

"And for my Baby Doe?"

That question got me a long silence.....

"I don't know why, but this Baby Doe case has really caused a firestorm locally.  People I've talked with are...really pissed off in a way I've not seen before.  I have to say the dumped on the side of the road in a paper bag part just adds to the...maybe not rage, but certainly, a lot of outrage. 

I've pulled a full set of samples for a complete DNA workup, which will go into the national database, marked as a felony child abuse and likely a murder case as well.  Until I get a clearance from the Sherriff on how he will be allowed to charge, she stays here.  I'm guessing this will be a week or so for all the paperwork to flow through the system, both here and at the State levels."

I nodded; this all rang very true to me.  I was still pissed off at the dumped on the side of the road thing as well.

"While talking with Ria, she indicated that the Law can now see me as..."

Doc McCarthy interrupted with; "Section 409, subsection 15, Part 1 with Annex 4.  You are a ghost Guardian.  I agree with and support that.  I was surprised when Ria dug that up some time back.  Great little twist on the Law.  Before that, when the hospital or the paramedics were in that bind, or the patient's Guardian refused required life-saving medical case, the cops just arrested the patient for causing a public nuance and thus they became wards of the State." 

He shook his head slowly.  "Well, that stunt doesn't work anymore.  Mostly because the State or County doesn't want to get stuck with the billing for the care provided."  Here, he shrugged.  "Not my circus, not my monkeys.  It's bad enough I have to host the paramedics."

He looked up quickly, "And by that I mean the County won't fund a full time ambulance service.  They do seem happy to foot my full budget – so...damned if I can figure out a politician's thought process." 

Now I was curious.  I'd never seen this dysfunctional a setup before in my life, though the Marines came awfully close in too many ways.
"Care to explain how this works to me...?" 

"I get funded for two full-time assistants.  I use the paramedic staff on a rotating basis.  They really are a help and as a real side benefit, they get high-end training.  I'm talking about making real intraosseosus infusions, or a subclavian cutdown for an IV, something lifesaving in the field, at the accident site."  He paused, "We get permission in advance from the family, of course." 

"Sounds like a real win-win to me.  How long do they get to work here?"

"I use a Tower of Babel type rotation; most will get a full two week shift, with full pay.  When the call comes in, they just have to walk across the lot to the ambulance barn.  The hose-humpers are right there if the medics need some muscle for the situation." 
He glanced at his watch, a clue for me to wrap it up...

"Look, can I ask for a name change...?"

"Like what?" 

"Baby Jane Doe?" 

"May I ask why?"

I got pretty intense right here, "To inject some bit of humanity into the process, that's why.  Will it be a problem...?"

He shook his head.  "Not in the least.  I can't allow a surname, for any number of reasons, both legal and ethical.  I'll make the change today, and in all the reports."
With a smile, he added, "Anything else?'

"For now, no.  I have a few things I need to check on, so, can I get a rain check?"

"Absolutely.  Just so you know, I'm not allowed to do any of this stuff.  For good reason.  Any idea of when you'll be back with the rest?"

I had to think a bit for that question.

"A day or two, I don't think any more than that..."
The sun had made the inside of the bus quite warm, a nice change from the chilly weather to date
My side trip yesterday on the way back to the RV park had been quite fruitful.  The auto parts store, a national brand, had the oil, filter and synthetic grease I had wanted to use for some time.  After I changed the oil, I was going to service the front wheel bearings and double check the brake pads up front.  I'd replaced the rear drum pads this summer while working a welding gig in Tucson.  Now, I had the time for the other parts of the system. 
While it was early, I took a risk and went back to the café for the chance of another a good breakfast.  The place was packed, but before I could turn around to leave, my little pixie girl popped up.

"If you want to eat out on the patio, I can get your order right away."  The bright smile was a bonus.

There was enough warm sun showing that sitting outside actually had some appeal.  That and the place was jammed cheek to jowl with roughly clad men intent on wolfing down something before a long day at work

"That would be wonderful, Sonya.  Short stack, two eggs over easy and coffee.." 

She just nodded, pointing to a door leading outside to a few tables scattered around on a flagstone surface.  I found a comfortable chair and moved it to sit with my back to the sun. 

I just had time to look over the area before Sonya dropped off my coffee and cream with a quick, "I'll have the rest in a bit."

The door didn't completely close and I heard one of the customers give her a ration of crap for serving me before she got his coffee.  Her response was....enlightening.

"Tough.  That guy is both local and a regular.  You don't like the service here; you're more than welcome to go eat breakfast at the gas station..." 

Given what I knew of her recent past, she had either gotten a lot tougher or was certain others had her back.  I'd pushed my chair back in case the scene had gotten ugly...  In the end, the guy left and I enjoyed my coffee. 

Something like 10 minutes later, she dropped a plate with my pancakes and to my surprise, a container of honey.  At my look, she simply said, "I asked yesterday, the cook found some extra honey."  With another smile adding, "She also said she'd rather have you as a regular customer, if you know what I mean...". 

"I do and thanks!"

She hadn't left the tab, so I guessed that meant she was in quite the hurry.  That didn't keep me from enjoying a nice and quiet meal with the sun warming my back on a cloudless day.  Just as I finished my coffee, Sonya returned, coffee pot in hand.

"Sorry, no more coffee.  I've really got to jet.  Lots of chores today yet to be done,"  I held up a twenty, "Good?"

"Perfect." As she gathered up the flatware, she asked, "Tomorrow?"

I had to laugh.  "Yup, same bat time, same bat channel..."

Now with a puzzled look, she said, "I'm sorry??"

I laughed even harder.  "Sorry, vague reference to a very old TV show.  Yes, I'll be here tomorrow and I'll have the same.  Is that okay?"

She nodded.  "Just come out here straightaway and grab a seat, the old farts don't show up till much later for their coffee and cigarette bull sessions..."  Then looking directly into my eyes, she said, "Just tap the window by the register so I know you're here.  Okay?" 

"Will do.  By the way, I should have asked your permission, is it okay to call you Sonya?"

That caused her to stop completely still and turn toward me.
"Around here, folks don't need to ask permission to use someone's first name.  So, call me Sonya if you want.  That's my name."

"Indeed.  Please, call me Moses, if you would care to..."

That got me the brightest smile yet.  "I will do just that, Mr. Moses...  And yes, I know it's your first name, but the mister just sounds better - to me..."

"Mr. Moses it is then.  Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

With that, we parted ways.  I went back to the RV park and her to her work.  There was something about that kid I just couldn't put my finger on, but she was going to be important to me at some point in time...  I just knew it.

more tomorrow....

The oil change went without a single hiccup. I checked the valve clearances and they all came up roses as well. Now it was time to start on the front end. I'd moved the bus to the far side of the parking area, opposite my cabin. The office lady had no objection, provided I didn't make a mess. There, a couple of woebegone trees provided some relief from the now very bright sunshine. It was also nice to be far away from anyone that might stop by to kibitz.

Bus jacked up, jack stand in place, front tire removed and stowed under the frame, I got into it. With the brake caliper safely hanging from the shock tower, the dust cover off, the castle nut removed and sitting on a clean piece of cardboard leftover from my oil change, and I was ready to tease out the bearing out of the hub for cleaning, examination and a new slathering of high temperature synth grease.

I heard the auto pull up and park behind my bus. I just had to look to see who had the entirety of a huge – no, make that a massive parking lot and they chose to park right behind my rig... I didn't have to wait very long.

The woman was tall enough to be more than shoulder high to the side window, sported a ponytail of screaming red hair and was built like a model for a fashion house. In other words, she was completely out of place here in Middleton. That could only mean trouble....big trouble. At that revelation, I turned back to my work at hand.

"Excuse me? You happen to be Moses Canyon?"

Perhaps ignoring her might make her go away... I removed the outer bearing, dropping it into the small bread pan next to my leg. Then with the help of my deadfall hammer, started tapping the hub to encourage it to slide off the spindle. Just about then she walked away.

That victory was short lived, as she returned – with a folding chair. Setting it up in front of the bus, I couldn't help but to notice when she folded one shapely leg over the other.

"You should know now; I'm not going away. I'm just that kind of girl..."

I'm ashamed to admit, I rose to the obvious bait. "What kind of girl would that be...a pest?"

"Hardly, Mr. Canyon, if that's who you are. I'm a reporter. I work for the local newspaper."

I put my tools down. "Bullshit!  There is no local paper. I've tried to buy one and was told, more than once, the paper that was here, folded two years ago. Try again, Big Red..."

I had no idea of the game she wanted to play, but starting off with an outright lie wasn't a good game plan. Not that I was going to play to begin with... That name really plucked her twanger, but good.

"My name is Tiffany Crystalake. The Herald-Examiner when Green two years ago. We stopped aiding the deforestation that was..."

I cut her off with, "You went bankrupt. Lost the office and all goods related to your creditors. Don't try that holier-than-thou Green crap with me girl. Go away, I'm busy and don't have time to waste on whatever scam you're trying to pull."

My shot in the dark hit home. Her open-mouthed expression also showed she had yet to deal with real world, in your face, pushback. If she was a reporter, she was so wet behind the ears as to be useless or so used to her stunning good looks that she always had her way in interviews.

She recovered her composure soon enough. "Not a scam. I want to do a story on you and Baby Doe Number 6. My sources tell me that..."

"Stop! Go dig in some other pit if you want to splash your ghoulish crap online." I glared at her, "NO COMMENT!" After a second's pause, I added "And you make up anything and try to attribute as a quote, I warn you now, I have a lawyer on retainer – and he lives to tear into mass media jerks..."

To my great surprise, she looked as though I'd just hit her with a closed fist. Tears were starting to form at the corners of her eyes...

Had I come back too hard? After all the crap I went thru on Nancy and Buster's deaths, I had zero tolerance for ghouls in the news biz.

We just sat and stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time.

She finally broke the silence. "My apologies Mr. Canyon. I was touched by your kind gesture to an abandoned child and thought it worth a story in our publication. Yes, the paper end of the business folded, but our online edition still sells advertising and we have garnered a couple of State level awards for our reporting." The tears didn't help....

I leaned my head over to the wheel well for support. The sigh was just a bonus statement from me.

"Look Miss...Crystal, if that really is your name and I doubt that. I have my reasons for that last bit. In my defense, I'll just say your approach was more than a little off-putting..."

That caused her to learn forward in the chair, looking very intently at me with what turned out to be very deep green eyes...

I blurted out, "Are you by chance, any relation to Sonya, the gal that works at the café?"

Caught by surprise, she replied, "Yes. She's my youngest cousin. Why? You haven't been hitting on her, have you?!?"

It was my turn to recoil just a bit.

"You must think very poorly of all men if you think I would stoop to hit on a kid. Holy crap, woman, what's your problem...?"

The mutual glaring contest started anew.

The sun actually moved in the sky before she blinked.

"So, what approach should I have used?" This seemed genuine and also convinced me I would never understand women. Talk about shifting gears midstream...

"An honest question deserves an honest answer."

I went back to teasing out the inner bearing still trapped inside the hub. She remained silent for several minutes as I completed the task.

"You might have introduced yourself, then identifying to me that you worked for an online publication." I paused for a bit as I wiped the grease off the bearings.

"Then, stated you were working a Baby Doe story and asked for any comments. All very neutral... It would have helped if you laid out the theme of the story - like the story was to be crime focused, human interest or so on."

Here, she closed her eyes, not trying to wipe away the stream of tears now flowing down her face. Folding her hands in her lap, she remained both silent and still, like a statue.

I interrupted her funk with a question. "Excuse me, do you happen to currently be pregnant?"

Her eyes snapped open, and if looks could kill, I was sitting in a puddle of my own blood.

"What the hell kind of question is that!"

I held up the can of brake cleaner, and then tapped my finger on the label.

"I asked because this product label claims bad side effects for pregnant women if exposed to the vapors... Oh, and that it can kill salamanders in California. I know I'm not pregnant, and I'm not a salamander. So, just being polite to ask before I spray off my bearings..."

She stood up, folded her chair and walked away. Not stormed away, just walked. I knew victory was lost when the car didn't start....

I was nearly finished with the bearings. They were both in excellent shape and just before I started the greasing of the pair I heard a voice behind me...

"Excuse me - I'm sorry as I see you're busy. May I steal few moments of your time? My name is Crystalake, Tiffany Crystalake. I work for the Herald-Examiner, an online news reporting site. I'm working a story on a local event; an abandoned child and I understand you were involved."

I looked over to see her squatting on her heels, just out of reach, but close enough I could smell her perfume. It reminded me of the scent used by Nancy... I nearly lost it right there. Still, those green eyes were, were so bewitching.

"Glad to meet you ma'am. You obviously know my name – what can I do for you?"

"Well, let me buy you lunch and have a discussion over that lunch. I see the story as one of man who, despite being in a hard, cold world, took the time and took a real risk to help one of the most helpless sorts of people I know of in the world these days..."

She won right there. A total victory at many levels.

"Fine. Why don't you open the side door and have a seat. We can start now while I finish with the bearings."

Once she was seated, her first question was a bit odd.

"If I may, how old are you? I only ask to give my readers a framework for the actions you took."

"Do I really look that old?"

I had to ask, one never has a real clue on their looks as received by others, despite what the shaving mirror might say.

The soft reply floated down to me, "Yes and no. You look to be a hard case, but I know that's from hard experience, not age. Still, I was honest in both the question and the reason for asking it."

"Okay. I'm 38 this year. Before you ask, I had 10 years in the Corps, four of those in the sandbox and Africa."

That caused a sharp intake of breath. "My God, what did you do?"

"Tried my damnest to stay alive, something not too easy on most days. I came out in second place. I was medically discharged about 8 years ago. I think that worked best for both me and the Corps. Good enough?"

"More than I had wanted but thank you so much. I'll not use that desert part, but it does matter, just the same."

"Next?"

"What was the crack about Sonya?"

More proof about women. That was such a shift; it could have given lesser men a bad case of whiplash....

"It wasn't a crack. She works at the café and seems like a real nice kid. The red hair and the green eyes are not all that common in this area. I jumped to the conclusion you might be related. Sorry."

"Well, it was an honest jump. I'm sorry about the hitting on her part. It's just that...

"Assholes hit on her - all day, every day. That would explain the baggy blouses and knee length skirts. After what I heard this morning, I think she's growing a thicker skin and an attitude that will help in the long run. May I ask how bad it was for you in college?"

"You may not."

"No problem. How about your major?"

"You first."

"What makes you think I did the college thing?"

That caused her to pause for a bit and allowed me to concentrate on getting the castle nut on the spindle just tight enough, but not too much.

"Okay, Mr. Moses, I can't really say. Call it reporter's intuition. But I know you have a real education..."

"Who am I to argue with an ace reporter? Yes. But, if you laugh, I'll smack your knee." That knee was hovering just a few inches from my shoulder. I had ulterior motives for asking her to sit in the doorway...

"I wont' laugh, if you won't"

"Deal! Now, you go first..."

"Nope. I asked first. Being as I'm a lady and all..."

"Northern Arizona University. Cultural Archeology. Not Anthropology – I'm not so full of myself as to even guess how people used the bits of widgets I was looking for."

"How in the world did that lead to the Marines?"

"Uncle Sugar paid off all my student debt. All they asked in return was for me to be a really bad human target for a few years. They were kind enough to pay for my Master's to boot."

"Thank you. I'll bet that dissertation is a real barn burner.
I'm 26 by the way and my first major was in Child Psychology. I was two years in before it really dawned on me that I was facing a lifetime of being a cog – a very small cog, in a vast, and uncaring bureaucracy or starving to death in private practice. So, I brilliantly changed my major to Industrial Design."

"I agree. That was truly brilliant. Not a lot of women in that field, if I recall correctly. So, pretty bad then?"

"My drawings were good enough I was offered a full ride scholarship at Cal Poly."

"Kudos. Why did you bail?"

"I'm sorry . How's that?"

"Simple logic. You were in California, and obviously not a player. Despite a killer figure and obvious...talents. You're now here as a small-town cub reporter trying to change the world. Someone pressed to test and you like as not handed them their ass. I'm assuming here the industrial design comes from working on a farm or ranch, and thus, you have the ability to sort out, rather quickly, anyone stupid to try and paw you... Was he a postgrad or a Professor?"

I could feel her stare.

"I'm not clairvoyant. I just happen to know a lot of stupid men, many college educated."

She harrumphed a couple of time before admitting, "They published my dissertation at no cost to me as part of the court settlement. I also agreed to not publish anything about...him."

I had to lay out on my back to catch my breath, I was laughing so hard. She leaned over, arms on her knees, staring down at me...

"Would you care to share the joke with me, my man?"

"You as a legit reporter. Oh my God. What a world-class troll. Epic! Do you send copies of your stories to the alumni association?"

She started laughing. "Guilty as charged. I understand you can hear them squirm all the way down to Oxnard..

After disposing of my mess, putting the tools back in their proper location and double checking the wheel lugnuts were good and tight, I asked, "Where for lunch?"

She paused, giving me a very long look that I hadn't seen in some time. "How about my place? Private enough to chat without worry some local gossip would get an earful."

"Umm, huh. And speaking of local gossips, how will that look, to have a man at your place and in the middle of the day to boot? I would think the gossips would have a field day."

She laughed. "They would be wondering how we will pick out the names for our grandchildren. I was born and raised here, believe me, I know how this all works..."

"Okay by me, I'll be gone in a week or so, you'll have to live with the fallout."

"And when I don't have a baby bump to show off, that will be the end of it. I can take care of myself against the local biddies. Been doing it for years."

"Fine by me. I'll follow you to your place.."

It was a short trip; Middleton is just small. The place was nice, sitting back from the road and with some shade trees on the South side of the building.

She pulled up and waved at me to pull in, up to the garage. Once I had shut off the engine, she walked over to say, "You still need to do the other side of your van, yes?" At my nod, she added, "Good, we can do that after lunch."

With that she turned and unlocked the solid wood door, before opening it wide and gesturing for me to enter. Inside, the light was subdued, curtains blocking most of the sun that made it past the trees outside.

Dropping her rather substantial purse into the couch, she asked, "What do you want for lunch?"

"What's on the menu?" No sense asking for something she lacked ingredients to make.

That netted another very long look, then a smile.

"Pancakes are out. I can do Belgian waffles, French toast, peaches and heavy cream. The peaches are fresh in from Santaquin."

I was so tickled I didn't get the expected 'Coffee, tea or me' that I had expected. "Peaches sounds great, any iced tea?"

"Black or green?"

Before I could reply, she added, pointing to "Get over here and stick your hands out..."

After I did just that, she sprayed some soap from a pump bottle and directed me to start scrubbing... While occupied with this task, she removed three peaches form the fridge and proceeded to cutting them up on a small plastic board that had been hidden inside the countertop.

"Okay, you should be good, go ahead and rise..."

I held up my now very messy hands and replied with "I don't want to make a mess of the faucet." I was hoping for a close encounter as she reached for the taps.

"Look at your feet." She paused for a second, "The left side pedal is cold water, the right side hot – and I mean real hot. Press them both and wait for the green light on the faucet, you have 100-degree water..."

This was a surprise, and the first time I had ever seen such a setup. But, just as she'd said, the water was perfect to rinse off the soapy mess on my hands.

"Towels are in the middle drawer, just hit it with your knee to open."

This worked as advertised and as I was wiping my hands and arms dry, she filled up a small teapot. This she sat onto another section of the counter, before touching something out of my sight.

"Have a seat, I'll be done in the jiff..."

As I sat at the table parked in a small nook off to the side of the kitchen, I took in the total look of the place. The 'atomic clock' hanging on the wall was a real classic from the 50's. The table and chairs looked to be the same vintage, heavily chromed pipe frames with nicely padded seats and backs.

"Nice table and chairs. Did you find these locally?"

"Nope. Assembled them myself. Manufacturer sent me the lot to assemble and vet the instructions as printed. Preproduction flat-pack prototype for the set. The table is solid oak, but stained for the color." A second later, she added, "Put the chairs back to back..."

When I did that, I could see one was a bit smaller than the other. Then it hit me, "These come two to a box to save on shipping?"

"Actually, it can be up to four to a box. Nice, yes?"

"Four?" I couldn't see how that would work...

"It's all in the packing." She sat two bowls on the table, "Been a best seller for a couple of years now."

After staring at my bowl of peaches, I had to ask, "How did you get picked for the vetting...all the way out here?"

She laughed as she poured the hot water into a carafe', dropping in some teabags. She then put a set of glasses filled with ice cubes on the table. The carafe' came next. She finally sat down across from me.

"I did the assembly to QC their work. Since it's my design, they wanted to know about any glitches before they went into full production. Who better than the designer for that bit, eh?"

The second I spoke, I knew it would sound either stupid or at worse, condescending. "You did this?"

"No, silly. I designed this, did the basic engineering drawings and helped with the production layout. The factory built this... Now, eat your peaches before they get to warm."

I finished my lunch in complete silence. I carried my own service, dropping the dishes into the sink. Then I went back to sit again, with Tiffany watching every move.

I looked directly at her before saying,. "Sorry. I must sound like quite the..."

"Lunkhead. I think is the term you would be looking to use here. Cut yourself some slack, how many industrial designers do you know?"

"Well, including you. One."

She laughed for a good long time. A she laughed, I could feel a loneliness growing inside. An emotion I'd I had banished tears ago.

"Moses, don't look so glum. I came up with the faucet setup for a design contest run by the maker. That got me the auto you see outside. With the contest win, came other offers. I found one that had terms I could live with. The kitchen was my next big project. The maker liked the whole, 'Designed by a woman for women' tag. I get a fractional cut from each sale. My house is paid for..." She wrinkled her nose before adding, "Of course, back a few years, before all the out of towners showed up, things were a lot cheaper."

I had the grace to actually blush. Her next question floored me.

"I hate to ask this, Moses. But are you... Ahhh, not interested in women?"

I stared at her for an eternity. "What?"

"I asked if you were interested in women. It's cool if you aren't - I get it.."

I honestly did not know how to answer this; I'd never been asked such a question, so boldly, in my entire life. The hell?
I settled for "Why do you ask?"

She closed her eyes. "I ask because we have been together for a couple of hours, counting the parking lot... You are the first man I've run across since I was a junior in high school that didn't desperately try to crawl into my pants within the first three minutes of meeting me. That or run away screaming. That's why. Sorry if you find that offensive... Everybody has their own lifestyle choices these days..."

How to answer would require some thought. I gain a bit of time; I cleaned up her meal things before returning to the table.

"First, I'm not offended..." Her face just fell with that bit. Which said volumes all by itself.

"Although I'm not used to such...direct questions. I do like woman. I was married once, a few years back. As for not slobbering all over you, I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman. A gentleman takes his time to develop something of a relationship before anything physical might start. Old fashioned, perhaps, but that's my worldview."

I waited a full minute before adding, "Does that help? You are a stunning beauty, and have a very sharp mind to boot, if perhaps to some, you are a bit...indelicate. If you're really asking if I'm interested in you, my answer is....it depends."

Here I stood to avoid what could become an awkward moment. "I need to get the rest of my bus maintenance done for the sun goes down. Care to join me?"

To my delight, she sat cross legged next to me, seemingly content to hand me tools and make idle chatter over nothing. As I finished up cleaning my tools and squaring away the bus, she asked innocently enough, "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I do, actually. I was going to run out to the Stateline and check out the cave system. I hear it is quite the visit. It will also serve as a check run on my maintenance just performed to ensure my ride to Alaska is trouble free."

She shyly asked, "Care for some company?"

"What exactly did you have in mind? It's not lost on me this is a camper bus.."

"Oh, you'll be safe from me. I'm quite the good girl..."

"Are you serious about going? If so, cut the crap. It's not something I need right now, okay?"

Now contrite, she simply said, "Yes. I'm serious. Normally the school system makes a field trip out to the caves as an end of school year treat for the junior class. I missed that year, because I had a shift to pull. Sorry."

"Fine. I'm eating breakfast at 7 AM, mostly because I promised Sonya I would be there. You can join me at the café, okay?"

She reached out to touch my arm. "That would be...perfect. I'll see you there." Her "Thank you," came out as a whisper.

Back at the cabin, I took a very long and very cold shower. This thing with Tiffany was something so new I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But – tomorrow might give me a better idea of what was going on inside her noggin...

I settled into the seat and fired up the engine. As it idled to warm, I scanned the display shoehorned into the old dash. The oil pressure, oil temp, cylinder head temp and power output all indicated normal. The drive to the café was uneventful, other than the now normal-to-me stream of vehicles heading West on the US 6&50 feeder.

I happily found a curbside parking spot just vacated by a large crew truck and slid in. Walking around the side of the building, I spied Tiffany sitting at a table, arms folded and looking at the traffic streaming past. She was wearing loose jeans, well worn, a pair of comfortable looking boots and a wool shirt with long sleeves partly rolled up on her forearms.

She waved me over by pointing to a seat. As I approached, she said, "Squirt knows we're here. She'll be back in a minute or two."

I put down my travel mug, pulled out a chair and as I sat down asked, "Squirt?"

That got a short chuckle. "Sonya. She's my youngest cousin. I've called her squirt for a very long time."

"In that case, how many cousins do you have?"

I couldn't imagine a teen being happy with such a family nickname or at least having it used outside of the family circle. I was surprised at the delay in her answer, as if she was doing some advanced math...

"Altogether or not counting First cousins?"

"Whatever you would care to share, Tiffany. I'm not doing a genealogical study. I was a bit curious." I sighed, "You don't need to answer that at all, if you don't want to..."

"Twenty-three, with no first cousins included. Mom had two sisters and two brothers. My one Aunt lives here in town, the rest have moved up to Salt Lake City. Work." This was punctuated with a shrug.

I must have made something of an expression; something that triggered a question from her.

"Your turn, how many do you have?" She was staring quite intently...

"One. He was adopted." I held up my hands. "What can I say, that was my Uncle's business, and none of mine..."

I was saved from an examination of my family genetics by Sonya arriving with my pancakes and a cup of coffee. She left immediately and returned with a second mug for Tiffany and a container of honey. Once she dropped that, the teen stood for a moment, then slipped a chit under the platter holding the honey container.

"Good morning Mr. Moses. Can't chat this morning, too busy. See you at the register." With that she went back inside.

Something wasn't right. In the past she would have least taken the time to ask about my morning. I didn't need a red star shell to have a clue...
I tucked into my meal mostly to avoid any questions. Once I'd emptied my coffee cup, I stood, then pulled Tiffany's chair back from the table as she rose.

Preemptively I said, "Bus is out front, I'm going to settle up and get my travel cup filled..." I didn't stick around but went inside using the same door that Sonya had used earlier. Tiffany walked away silently toward the street.

I found Sonya at the register. I held up my mug and asked, "Can I get this filled? A bit of cream, no sugar? Please?"

She took it with a nod and headed for what I assumed to be the kitchen. While she was gone, I fished a pair of twenty's out of my cash-carry wallet. This was going to be....most interesting, to say the least.

Sonya returned, setting the mug next to the register. I handed her the chit and the twenty's.

Rather than ask if I wanted my change, she said, "Are you sleeping with my cousin?"

Not quite what I expected from a high school kiddo, but then it is the 21st Century...

"That, young lady, that's both a rude as hell question, and most certainly none of your damn business. It was also much too personal for asking in public.... But no, I'm not."

She wasn't intimidated the least by my answer. "Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. I just want you to know that on the crazy to hot scale; Tiffany is on the next page over."

Here, she looked at me intently, "You're a...nice man, I just don't want you to get...hurt. That's all".

This was going to be a load to unpack, later while I could sit and think about it. I could hope she wasn't hitting on me, but with some young women these days, who the hell could tell? That, or she was so desperate to leave town, she would... Naw. I scratched both of those off the list right away.

"Sonya, I appreciate your concern, I think. But after four combat tours with the Marine Corps, I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself...."

I didn't want to slap her down completely, it was obvious she that she was warning me of...something. The trip out to the caves this morning was now certain to be an E-ticket ride.

I gave her a big smile, "I appreciate that you care for people enough to risk making such a statement. It's nice to have...people you know that care enough to...tell you things like this. Keep the change with my thanks."

With that, I grabbed my travel mug and fled out the front door of the cafe. I would have to admit to myself, this young lady had certainly progressed from what had been described to me as her demeanor from just a few months ago. A traumatic experience would do that...

I found Tiffany standing next to the bus, waiting for my arrival. I unlocked and opened the door and offered my hand to help her up into the seat. That was rejected as she used the door to boost herself into the seat. After shutting the door, I went around to the other side, climbed in and started the engine.

"I'm stopping at the Sinclair station to top off before we head out. You need to pick up anything before we go?"

"No."

I waited until we were on the far side of the tracks and merged with the traffic heading west before I spoke. Tiffany seemed oddly content to stay silent and look out her window.

I managed to stifle my sigh. Might as well pop the balloon now. Before we got too far out of town, making a turn around a real PITA.

"Okay. Go ahead. Say it."

"Say what?" Not nasty, but just short of sharp.

Now, I did sigh. "You and Sonya went after each other this morning, before I showed up. I'm not blind. So, spit it out."

Tiffany turned in her seat to look directly at me... "Do you know what that little...girl asked me?"

I took a good grip on the steering wheel as a precaution, before replying with "She wanted to know if I was screwing you...something like that?"

I waited for the fish sounds to stop coming from Tiffany before continuing. "She also tried to warn me off. Something about the hot to crazy scale?"

The peals of laughter that provoked were more than a surprise. Here, the smart choice, one that had always worked for me in the past, was to shut up and listen. There was some family dynamic at play here I didn't want to trip over...

She finally settled down. "To to be fair, you did try to warn me yesterday. So, I got what I deserved."

"Go on, that's not a full answer. Somebody have a problem with our lunch?"

She went off on a tangent, not an unexpected one, I suppose.

"Remember the part, the part where I'd said, 'run away screaming'?"

"Yes. From that, I had just assumed that your...brutally direct way of discussing what many think of as very private matters might be considered a bit much..."

That was as far as I was going to stick my neck out. I was sitting next to a woman that was so complex in her thought processes as to leave me clueless, all the time. I had been willing to write this lack of basic understanding off as just having met her, but now, I wasn't so sure...

In another vast jump into headspace, she asked, "How familiar are you with small town living – or, rather the social processes and norms?"

I took the safe answer, "For Middleton, not a clue." That it was the truth was a bonus.

She blew out her breath before starting.

"Where to start...? When I came back to town after the blowout in SoCal, all I wanted was some peace and quiet. Get a small studio going, work on some designs I had knocking around in my head, that sort of stuff. You see?"

I shifted in my seat and let the truck ahead of us pull a bit farther away. This was going to be good, no doubt.

"Go on."

"Well, the fine ladies of Middleton decided what I really needed was a ..."

"Husband? Or at least suitable, stable man-friend with prospects I would venture to guess."

"Bingo. Of course, they were more than willing to herd a mass of bubba's at me every time I left the house. It got...tiresome. Real fast it got to be scary..."

This was a revelation. "Let me guess, out of sheer self-defense, you went the crazy, redheaded, super-bitch from hell route?"

"Mr. Canyon. You seem all too well informed for a total stranger. Explain."

"You are not the only one to face that rodeo, my little vixen friend."

She crossed her arms. "Go ahead and tell me about it. I promise to lay it all out for me after you do...I get that you may not want to share with..." She stopped for a second, and then added, "I'll respect your privacy." "

Oddly, I felt at ease when I started talking. "'On my last tour, I was flying out to inspect a possible COP in El Anbar Province, that's – a combat outpost. A place where a squad that could, in theory, stop for the night in some safety.

Short version, the lights went out and I woke up in a CASH. Went on to Germany for surgery, because they were very good there from way too much practice. After that, rehab at Fort Gorden. After the Corps figured out that I couldn't hump ruck or ever be allowed to fly again, I got shoved out the door."

At her intense silence, I went on. "I went back home, mostly to finish up my rehab work. Maybe get something of a job. Get on with life..."

I had to stop here; it was becoming too painful. Tiffany kept her silence, a good thing.

About now, some construction was obvious on both side of the highway, and I had to slow down owing to cross traffic. Deep ditches were being cut on the both sides of the road, while cabling laying trucks were jockeying for position.

A few miles later and were free of both the construction and the related traffic.

Here, Tiffany broke her silence. She simply said, "I have to confess."
She turned to look at me and I could see her eyes were watering. "I went snooping. The paper has a subscription to the national newspaper archive system, all of them. I saw the stories about Nancy and your son, Buster..."

I pulled off onto the side of the highway, well off onto the solid dirt verge and shut off the engine. I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried to catch my breath. I'd kept so much bottled up for so long and now it came flooding out. The pain, the anger, the rage.... Seems I haven't put it all behind me after all.

I don't know how long it took before I could speak, but it was long enough that she put her hand on my shoulder, very gently offering me a lifeline...

"What do you think you read?"

She leaned back against the door. "What I read was a lot of sensationalist bullshit, to be frank. I may work for a small-town rag, but I know the big boy editors always push for something that will sell, drive subscriptions, get clicks as the lede." She waited a few seconds, "And that's what is killing the news media, too much sensation, too little in the facts of the thing."

Her, she reached out and touched my shoulder again, "Which explains your outburst when we first met... I had no idea." She suddenly started up, "I found the killer combat Vet run amok memes to be utterly offensive..."

I sat up. "Okay - that I need to explain."

"No, you don't. If you had actually....killed someone, you wouldn't be sitting here talking to me."

"Just the same. We were living next to a real Podunk town, the kind that runs a speed trap as the sole source of funding for the city salaries. You know the deal. By city, I mean a crooked mayor, his handpicked police chief and the classic brother-in-law judge. One of the cops was a cousin and a real POS. Folks had complained about this racket for years, all the way up to the State house..."

At this, she really pushed herself against the door and crossed her arms...

I took that as a hint. I leaned back and took several deep breaths, just like my guide had showed me.

"Sorry. I can get...a bit intense on this still, I 'm afraid." After clasping my hands together and putting them in my lap, I continued, "Deputy Dawg went to pull someone over for a seatbelt violation and the cat jack rabbited. Anywhere else, that would have been the end of it. The damned pig wouldn't let it go, don't know if it was the bounty or the guy was just... They blew through a red light in town and broadsided my wife and kid at over 100 miles per. "

I really squished my hands together. Sometimes that helped.

"That's when Bruce, my lawyer, came in. He'd been after these pouges for a very long time. My mistake was being overhead telling Bruce I wanted the entire town dead, erased – the whole rotten thing."

"The newspaper stories were all over the place on that. Not uncommon for an outlet to take sides, but..."

"Bottom line, in a series of lawsuits, I cleaned out the burgs entire bond and got the town charter pulled by the State as part of the overall settlement. They were forced into the County system and the judge was disbarred. The deputy had been fired the second the story hit the papers, so lost any implied or other kind of immunity. Him, I sued into oblivion. He'll never work again as a cop, private security or even as a school crossing guard - ever. "

"Moses, he tried to commit suicide..."

"No, Tiffany. That part is just bull. He made suicide gestures in an attempt to get some sympathy; unfortunately, it worked with a couple of papers. It really hit the fan when I went after the State for utterly failing to reign in these toads, despite years of formal complaints and at least two lawsuits."

"I didn't wade through everything – how did it all end..?"

"The city got removed. The State Policing Standards board got a total flush, I was awarded a whole lot of money – like that mattered."

She softly rebuked me, "Moses, that's not what I meant, and you know that. I was asking about your family..."

"I took their ashes back to Nancy's hometown. Its little place back in the hills. I bought two acres next to the main park in town. I had the property hydoaxed and grass put in. I named it as a park in their honor. The night I left town, I spread their ashes in the park, said a prayer, then left. I've not been back since. The millions went into two trust funds. One named for Buster."

I got out of the bus, walked around and kicked all the tires before I got back in. Pulling out and heading west wasn't easy, but I did it.

"I sold everything and moved to Alaska. I was less than popular 'back home', with everyone I knew anyway, so thought it best to make a clean break. Three years ago I started the snowbird, gig economy thing."

We both sat in silence until I pulled into the parking lot for the caves. I paid the entry fee and we were lucky enough to catch a tour that was just starting. After entering the cave via a double door airlock, I was able to forget everything else and just enjoy the beauty provided by Nature. At one point, the guide shut off the lights to show us what total darkness was in reality. That was then Tiffany slipped her hand into mine and gave it a bit of a squeeze. It had been far too long...
A few minutes after we started back to Middleton, Tiffany spoke up, "My turn. My real last name is Stroud." After a pause, she went on, "As in the Middleton Stroud's, that is." Looking at me, she said, "I wouldn't expect you to know. It's a Founding Family thing and the reason most everyone has moved to Salt Lake City. When the big Ag types started moving in, Dad sold almost all of our land but kept his water rights, those rights he leases out. He's made real bank. That's why I could afford to go to college."

As if running out of steam, she went silent. That was fine, it was a long drive back, she would say what she wanted, when she wanted.

The sudden outburst was startling. "When I got back to town, too many treated me like a local version of a Disney Princess. You know?"

I had to laugh. "All your problems will go away if only a big strong man comes into your life?"

"You do understand!"

"No, I don't understand. That whole thing is so out of my experience – the meddling, the unwanted advice, the pressure. I have no real clue of what you've had to put up with." I looked over at her, "Honestly. It's just a meme for me, you had to put up with the ****..."

"You, Sir, understand more than most. One of the Bubba's that got shoveled at me took it to mind I was his woman... We never even had a single date. Just an introduction at a friend's party. That's it. See?"

"I can guess scary as hell...stalking, lots of phone calls, emails and the toad showing up in front of your house, at all hours, maybe at night?"

When I glanced over, she was staring at me so intently it was...frightening.

"What did you do to stop it? You're here, so I know you didn't shoot the bastard..."

"Almost did. The Sherriff wouldn't do anything. To be fair, he was up to his ass in alligators. I filed for a protective order. Denied. So, I went over to Fillmore and bought a Government Model 45, and six boxes of ammo. Then I forced my cousin, a former spec ops guy, to show me how to properly shoot. It may have leaked out that if this jerk showed up again, I would be ready..."

I was laughing so hard, I almost had to pull over to stay in control.

"And so your place on the crazy-hot curve was set forever. Sorry I laughed; it's most certainly not funny. Still, I got to admit, a classic fix to an ugly problem."

"Yeah, well, maybe too good a fix. Now anyone that might be the least interesting runs away like I'm a..."

"Madwoman with a big-assed gat." That stopped me cold. Another thought had just occurred to me."

Rather than say what had just hit me, I said, "I need to take a detour here in a bit. That a problem?"

"So long as that detour isn't to the local hot springs to go skinny dipping, detour away..."

I just tapped the screen on my phone. The GPS lady came to life advising me I had five miles to my turn...
The sign front of the office trailer pronounced that we had arrived at "The Rock Shop". I didn't say anything to my passenger, she could follow if she wanted to or not. Either way, it didn't matter to me.

Walking up the front desk, I said, "Hi. I'm Mr. Canyon, I called late yesterday?"

The kid behind the desk gave me the once over before speaking into a microphone next to her terminal. "Otto, your scrap guy is here." Looking back at me, she said, "Outside, to the right you'll see an open shed. Otto will meet you there."

Then turning back to her terminal, I saw that I was completely dismissed. With nothing more than that, I went back out and headed for the open shed in the distance. I heard the door on the bus slam, so assumed Tiffany would be following along shortly.

I was met before I reached the shed by a short man; one wearing overalls, dusty workbooks and with a pair of heavy gloves sticking out of a back pocket. This just had to be Otto...

Sticking out his hand, the man shook mine saying, "Follow me, I'm sure I got what you're looking for..."

We trekked around a long line of side-stacked rock slabs, and then over to the fence line where a large stack of obvious work scraps was piled.
Pointing, Otto said, "This batch is pink granite, mostly polished on one side – the other is some really nice blue granite, but it costs a lot more per pound."

Pointing to another stack further down the fence line, "That's the black granite and most of it isn't polished or even ground true. The rock is cheaper, the work is more expensive. You got an idea of what you want to have engraved...?"

I fished out my phone and brought up what I had written last night. Handing the phone to him, I waited for his feedback. His opinion as the expert was what I had come to get prior to making a buy.

Looking up from the screen, he asked, "How long is the name?"

"They are all the same. Ten characters, to include the spaces."

He nodded and I could see him counting with one hand, lips moving. This went on for several minutes, by then Tiffany had arrived and unbidden, taken my hand.

Otto finally spoke. "Okay. Two lines, no less than 18 pitch, maybe a bit bigger when I see what you have picked out. Anything you pick has to be at least four by six inches, and you can go eight by ten to keep the same perspective. Rock costs by the pound, I have to have that. I'll do the engraving at cost..."

I stuck out my hand, "Deal! Where to I bring my picks?"

"Just drop then at the front of the shed. You'll see a large blue tub full of sealant. Just drop 'em in there. I'll weigh 'em and get the final cost to your email for approval. I can start engraving tomorrow morning. Is that fast enough?"

"You have my approval right now. I'll pick a couple of spare pieces, in case something turns out bad, like a hidden crack or that."

He nodded in agreement, shook my hand, handed me a tape measure and with no more than that, walked back toward the office.

In the ensuing silence, Tiffany spoke, "Okay, big boy. What's this all about?"

I handed her my phone and walked over to the pile of blue rock. I had found my first piece when she joined me. It looked like I could go eight by ten with the number of polished pieces showing.
It took more than two hours before we dropped the dozen slabs in the soaking tub. Both of us were also very dusty, hot and sweaty. Stopping by the office to check out took just a moment, and then we climbed into the bus. Tiffany waited until we were back on the highway and at speed before she spoke.

"Nothing for Baby Jane? That doesn't seem..."

"I have a request in for a quote over at the foundry in Toole. I'm asking for a bronze plaque. I should get that quote by tomorrow. You were saying?"

"I was saying it's not too late to turn around for a dip in the hot springs..."

"Sorry, kiddo. As tempting as that is right now, I've got to get back, shower, shave and made myself presentable for the county Board meeting tonight. I appreciate the offer, but maybe a rain check?"

"Better yet – how about dinner after the meeting? I've got some wicked good shrimp in the freezer."

"After the meeting?"

She laughed, "I cover all the Board meetings because, so few actually bother to show up. Open meeting laws don't mean squat if nobody is there to keep their feet to the fire."

"Shrimp, eh? What else is on the menu?"

"We can decide that after the meeting, eh?"

"I guess we can at that..."

More to follow - comments welcome, as always

No comments?

I was hoping for some kind of feedback.

Don

I'm trying to remember if you've posted a version of this story before because it seems really familiar.

That said, glad to see you back, TacAir.

Thank you for the kind words.

Since I tend to have characters that are red heads w/green eyes, it may seem familiar.

I have another (now well over 50K words) story parked on and growing over in the Survival Boards Book sections.   Titled, Big Red or How I learned to love surprises (https://www.survivalistboards.com/threads/big-red-or-how-i-learned-to-love-the-surprises-in-life.1008750/page-2?post_id=22302535#post-22302535)...

More to come on this story line.

The redhead thing is probably what made me think I'd read this story before. :smiley_clap:

Only thing I can say as far as feedback is there's a typo in the thread title.

It says "Babt Jane" instead of "Baby Jane".

Seems to be an easy typo to make since the "t" and "y" buttons are right next to one another on the keyboard.

Quote from: 12_Gauge_Chimp on October 30, 2025, 04:43:14 PMThe redhead thing is probably what made me think I'd read this story before. :smiley_clap:

Only thing I can say as far as feedback is there's a typo in the thread title.

It says "Babt Jane" instead of "Baby Jane".

Seems to be an easy typo to make since the "t" and "y" buttons are right next to one another on the keyboard.

Still trying how to figure out to edit here.   :coffee3:  clearly need more coffee before posting!

About 30 miles from Middleton, my phone came back to life. Beeps, boops and shaking indicated someone or some ones had been pinging the living crap out of the device. Pulling over to allow my full attention to what the phone had in store for seemed wise.

Starting with the text messages, they ranged from a polite request to contact the Sherriff's dispatch, which quickly escalated into threats of immediate arrest if I did not comply. I guess they forgot the standing on the roof part. I hit the Delete All button and repeated that for the call messages.

After taking a deep breath, I dialed the number left for the dispatcher. This was not going to be fun, but I also was not going to drive into an ambush by some hopped up little town oinkers. I would avoid any confrontational langue – as I had planned to stop by the office and leave a statement of what had transpired anyway. The dashcam videos were my Ace in the hole for any trouble that could be brewing.

The line picked up with: "This is the Sherriff's dispatch non-emergency number. If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911 now. Otherwise, stay on the line and an attendant will be with you shortly."

The Muzak started playing. Before I could glance at my watch to time how long I would sit and wait, the line clicked, and picked up again.

"Dispatch. How may I be of assistance?"

"Hello, this is Moses Canyon."

"Well, good afternoon, what can I do for you Mr. Canyon?"

"I'll bet you just came on shift, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Not quite annoyed, but close.

"I'm the guy that found the baby in the paper bag. I'm calling in now that I have cell service. Your outfit's messages were...intense, to say the least. Will it be safe for me to drive into town?"

"I'm sorry?" The poor dispatcher was clueless, which could mean any number of things. None of them good.

"Okay. Ah, I guess you missed the **** show. I called in to request a medivac for an infant I found on the roadside. Follow up messages from your department seemed to indicate I might just get shot if I drove into town. Call me overcautious, but I thought it best to call in before I hit town. You know, to save me some trouble...and possibly my life."

"I going to put you on hold, please stay on the line." With a click, she was gone.

Since I wasn't going anywhere, I sat and enjoyed the view. It would be a while for the sunset, so I might as well enjoy the show. I did note the time as well.... This would be interesting, to say the least.
It took just over five minutes before the line popped back to life.

"Mr. Canyon, are you still online?"

"Yes. I'm still here." She couldn't see me shaking my head.

"Uuummm, okay. Things have been a little bit...hectic. First, Sherriff Tayloe asked me to pass along his apologies. The individual who sent those messages will be dealt with later. The Sherriff asked if it would be possible for you come in tomorrow morning, maybe after 9 AM? That way, you can have something for breakfast and things will have settled after shift change. If that's convenient for you that is..."

"No problem. I plan on staying at the Bide-A-Wee RV park for a few days anyway. I need to do some maintenance on my ride, so that will be just fine. Anything else?"

"No. And think you for accepting the Sherriff's apology. If something does come up, we'll call you. Okay?"

"No problem, please note that I do turn my phone off before I go to bed. Also, any word on the baby I found?"

"No Sir. That's nothing we would have access to in any case. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow." With that, she broke the connection.

"Well, old boy," I thought, "this shit just got even more weird."

The RV park was almost as I remembered it. Built on the remains of an industrial park that was never built, other than a massive parking lot, it had some new additions. I pulled up to the small office building and walked inside. Almost as soon as the door shut, a very pleasant lady walked into the reception area, showing me a very bright smile.

"Ah! Mr. Canyon, I happy to see you've come back."

This was a bit disconcerting. It had been more than a year and I had only stayed a night in-route to a gig in Tonopah.

"Yes. I'm back and this time I plan to stay a bit longer. If you don't mind, how is it..."

At this, the woman laughed. "I don't get many old-school VDubs with Alaska plates in here. How long will you be with us?"

"Maybe as long as a week. It depends...."

I let my voice trail off. I really didn't know how long I would be here. It was quite unusual for me to be in this position.

Pointing, she said, "Have a seat," she slid a card over to my side of the little desk, "I'll need this data, something the town added recently." At my look, she hastily added, "Owing to the troubles from the construction crews. A lot of them are...troublesome, others are illegals, and some are ex-cons. Quite the mixed bag. After a couple of bad problems, the town council cracked down."

I filled out the form and then offered my driver's license. If I had to fill out this much, I knew she would ask for photo ID. I was more than a bit curious...

"If you don't mind my asking – construction crews, as in plural?"

The sound she made was less a laugh and more a snort. "How did you come into town? Down US 6 and 50?"

"No, I came up through Cedar City. I didn't see anything that could be remotely called new construction and unless something drastic has happened, like a massive population explosion, I have no clue as to why you would have..."

She held up her hand. "I see. Had you come east from Ely, you would have seen the problem, first hand. There are several very large solar farms under construction in the West Desert. Large, as in square kilometers of panels, wiring, massive, weird batteries. All of it for California power companies. Of course, the contracts all went to California companies and in turn, they have brought in all their own crews.... Locals got cut out almost completely."

Here, she shrugged, "Not that we would have had any real labor force that could have used the jobs, but just the same..."

Wow, I could see that this situation was a ticking time bomb. That many out of State workers in this small of a town – it could be real trouble, for everyone.

"I see now why the Sherriff's office said things were a bit..hectic. I'm more than happy to have a spot in the tent camping area, if that is open..."

Now grim faced, her reply was a bit terse.

"I won't rent to construction trash. I learned that lesson early. When they complained to the County board, they were told they could stay in Ely and commute." She shook her head. "The last of the snowbirds and winter stay overs have left and the summer crowd has yet to show. If you would be willing to spend a couple of dollars a day more, I can put you up in one of our cabins. They have a full bath, double bed and HVAC.

You're welcome to run an extension cord from the front of the cabin to your bus. I assume you have a small fridge, almost all the RVs that come in here have one. Most the cabins are empty right now, but I have reservations for the lot starting late next week. I'd say you arrived at a very lucky moment, Mr. Canyon."

I'd be a fool to pass on this offer. Plopping down my credit card, I said, "More than happy to be so lucky. Any suggestions for laundry facilities?"

"We have a couple of coin-op units in the back of the office building that work just fine. Most places in town were forced to add laundry facilities. I'd stay away from the Laundromat in town after dark."

I stayed silent as she tapped on her little terminal and processed my card for payment. That last bit of unsolicited advice said volumes on how much this little burg had changed since my last visit.

"I've set this to actually charge the card on checkout, but have reserved payment enough for a week, if that's good for you?"

"Exactly as I expected, everyone else does this, so no problems. Can you suggest a restaurant for my dinner tonight?"

Her reply was somewhat off kilter for me.

"What did you have in mind?"

That caught me a bit short. Pausing a bit before a reply allowed me to come up with something a bit more polite than I might have said without thinking. If I only had one bad fault, it was speaking what was on my mind, not always the best choice in polite company.

"I'm not really a fussy eater. I normally chose whatever the special is for the day...unless it's fish. I prefer to catch my own fish."

"I see. It's Wednesday, so up to Carl's place they normally have meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, with greens and apple pie. All served family style. As a singleton, you'd have to sit at a table with strangers. Most folks don't like that."

"And I would be one of those folks. Anything else?"

"Yeah. We now have a couple of fast-food franchises in town, if you can stand the choke and puke chow they serve. I don't."

She gave me a funny look before adding, "Look. A couple of my kids are coming over for dinner. We're having spaghetti and meatballs, garlic toast, greens and homemade ice cream. I've got room for one more if that would be something you're interested in..."

Now caught flat-footed, I had no idea of how to reply. Acceptance to eat with a strange family, an uncomfortable situation for me at best or turn it down and face the possibility of a bad reaction....

I settled for, "I'd hate to impose like that, especially on such short notice. I also have some laundry to do. Thank you so much for the offer, perhaps another time. I can pick up something from the deli at the market to go with my laundry chores."

She silently handed me a key and pointed toward the line of cabins.

I would be lying if I said the long hot shower in the morning was anything but a luxury. Thus, fortified by the shower and a good night's sleep, I headed into town. The sign said Café and the open parking spot on the street out in front of the building made the choice for me.

Walking in, I was greeted by a large, L shaped bar and to the other side, a set of booths. Both were nearly empty. I took a seat in the booth with a window that allowed me to keep an eye on my ride, while looking for a menu. No luck.

A soft voice, and a large glass of water showed up together at my booth.

"Want coffee with your meal?"

The girl asking me the question could not have been over 15 years old, if I was forced to guess. But then again, I had little to do with teens anymore, so I could be off by a substantial amount. I was also not going to ask her age. The baggy shirt and long skirt didn't help any either.

"Yes, please. With cream and sugar. Can I get a short stack with a couple of eggs, over easy?"

I've yet to find a café that didn't offer pancakes as a short or long stack. Eggs recently had become a real question, however.

"Certainly. What kind of syrup?"

"None, I'd rather have honey. Less sugar and all that."

"I'm sorry. Until the bee herders come thru this year, we don't have honey for the pancakes and such. Last year was a bad one for production."

I had to chuckle. "Okay, you win. Bee herders?"

That got a light laugh in return. "The bee herders come thru at least once a year when the clover and that is in bloom. They set up their hive boxes all over near the fields. Farmers get a 10 or 15 percent cut of production for the use of their fields and the honey guys get a product that they can claim as organic." She paused for a second, "Nobody here sprays any gunk and almost everyone uses manure from the feedlots to go with the clover for regeneration between crops."

"Thank you for the explanation. How about some peanut butter instead?"

"For your pancakes?" She sounded somewhat hesitant with the question.

"Ahhh, okay. I'll ask the cook and all. Want any juice or that?"

"No. Thanks for asking."

With that, the waitress floated away to wherever one talked to the cook. I pulled out my phone to check for any messages as I didn't see any local newspapers being sold, unusual for a rural town. Before I could scroll down to the menu item needed, a large mug of coffee, with a small container of cream slid across the table, and a few sugar packets landed next to the coffee.

"Be another couple of minutes for your pancakes.."

This was shared as she slipped off to deal with a new customer now sitting at the bar. I had to blink for a moment, I just noticed the young lady had very red hair done up on a spiraling braid. That was enough to get me started on the coffee. I needed to fully wake up before I talked with the Sherriff.

The waitress soon arrived with a large dinner plate filled with my pancakes. She also put a smaller plate filled with small plastic serving cups, marked a peanut butter, next to my coffee cup.

"The cook indexed your eggs an account of the peanut butter. Most folks take 'em that way normally." She paused for a second, "Least around here they do."

I could only ask, "Indexed?"

Another chuckle was followed by, "In-between the pancakes. You know, indexed."

"So deska. Thanks. That really is the only way to have peanut butter on the 'cakes anyway."

Before she walked away, she slid the bill under the creamer. I was beginning to think this place was all right in every way I wanted.
I finished my coffee at the same time as my pancakes. The eggs were suitably runny and the peanut butter was actually fresh for a packaged item. I picked up my bill and headed for the register by the door. It was no surprised when my red-headed pixie was waiting for me.

"Was everything okay?"

I was struck almost dumb for a moment. Her eyes were the most luminescent green I'd see in...well, nearly forever. I shook my head before speaking.

"Actually, perfect. Best breakfast I've had in some time." I paused for a moment before asking, "It is crowded in here for supper?"

"Yeah. After five until pretty late, say, eight, we get buried by the construction crews. Bad enough we have a limited, three item menu – it's the only way the cook can keep up."

I nodded before adding, "How about you? Crazy busy all night?"

At this, she turned beet red, not only her face, but even her arms turned color.

She whispered, "I don't work the late shift. Marcy and Alice do that. I...don't"

I worked to control my voice. The harassment must have been horrific to produce this much of a reaction.

"That bad? I'm sorry. I guess at some point, they will all go away."

"Not soon enough. I can't even walk over to see my friends after dark unless one of my brothers walks with me...." She muttered something under her breath.

I stayed silent and handed over a twenty. As she started to pull out some change, I said, "Keep the rest as a tip."

With that, I walked out and climbed in my ride. The situation here in town was likely well past the explosive stage and was edging into the 'wild shootout' stage of things. I wondered if my plans to stick around were now worth the potential trouble....
Finding the Sherriff's office was as simple as following the signs thoughtfully posted on the side of the road. I pulled into a nearly empty parking lot and entered the large and all concrete building. It looked new, so maybe all the taxes the new solar farms were bringing in had some positive side effects.

I walked up to the small desk inside the front alcove. Nobody was in sight, so I called out – "Hola?"

The expression on the face of the deputy that arrived was the first clue my choice of greeting had been a serious error.

Before he could speak, I offered, "Good morning. Moses Canyon to see the Sherriff. I believe he is expecting me?"

A gruff "Hang on" was all I got in reply as he left.

This was going to be worse than I had imagined when I got up out of bed this morning. It was also a learning experience for me. I had to imagine the longtime residents of Middleton were aghast at the changes inflicted on the town of late.

The door next to the desk opened and a heavily tanned man waved me in. I followed silently until we entered a good-sized office. The walls were bare, save a lone official-looking certificate of some sort. His desk had a standard three tier set of boxes, filled to near overflowing and a small terminal squatted beside the desk on a small credenza. A single chair sat in front of the desk.

This was a man who clearly did not entertain in his office. That then set the tone for my next words.

"Can you record this? I only want to tell the story once."

He nodded, then reached into the desk and removed a compact digital recorder. From the wear marks, I could see it was well used. He punched a button and then waved his hand.

"Thank you."

I pulled out the storage cards and sat them on the table.

Pushing one over to his side of the desk, I said, "This is from my dashcam,. It will show me leaving St George, stopping in Cedar City for gas and then stopping again. I stopped to relive myself of the large cup of coffee I drank after leaving in the morning. It starts again to show the medivac chopper picking up the baby and hauling off."

Pushing over the second chip, I added, "This one is a super high def, I guess 8K, where I recorded the road verge ahead of and behind where I had parked by bus. It also shows the area around where the bag was discovered and on to what I assume is an exterior cattle fence. For what's it's worth, I saw nothing. No trash, no tire marks. Nothing. I thought I would record the area to save someone a trip all the way out there for nothing."

With that, the Sherriff reached over and shut off the recorder.

"Thank you, Mr. Canyon. That was succinct, to the point and had no bull****. I have to ask, how long were you in?"

My surprise must have shown in my expression.

"Come now, Mr. Canyon, your telephone call alone marked you as a Vet. " He smiled, "I'm only surprised you didn't call it in as a 9-line request."

He had me dead to rights. I suppose if he hadn't figured it out, he would be worthless as a Sherriff.

"Just over ten years. Marines. I was medically retired about 8 years ago, more or less."

He nodded. "After 6 years with the Big Army, I had my fill of seeing the waste and stupidity and bailed while I was still whole. Did some time in the Salt Lake Sherriff's office, then came down here and ran for office. Here we both are..."

"So, you're good on my statement?"

"Absolutely. It may have been something you missed, but everyone here knows you could have just gotten back into your van and drove off, with nobody the wiser..." He paused for a long minute before adding, "Except you. You did the right thing and tried to help.'

He stood and reached out his hand, "Let me say, thank you for caring. For doing the right thing. That is becoming so rare these days..."

I shook his hand. "It really isn't that hard – if you want to live with yourself."

He sat back down. "I'm good, how about you?"

Not quite a dismissal, but an indicator of just how busy the guy must be each and every day.

I hesitated, then asked, "I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind. I can see you and your staff are stretched pretty thin. I also have to guess that nobody political will let you staff up for this construction work, only to have to cut staff later when everyone goes back to wherever they came from."

That got a slight nod. He was staring at me intently.

"The questions?"

"Two. My waitress this morning in the café, she was dressed like a bag lady – floppy shirt and long skirt. Teens don't dress like that unless they're in a cult or something. She also mentioned needing an escort after dark. Is it that bad?"

Grim faced his reply was not too big a surprise.

"Red headed kid? Green eyes?" I

I nodded yes.

"Yeah. That happened last year. Little Sonya got grabbed at work by a couple of yahoos that didn't understand that in our 'culture'; that crap would get you beat to a pulp, if not shot. We got there in time to keep them alive. After they got healed enough, we turned them over to ICE for deportation. I ensured they fully understood that if they came back, I would not protect them a second time."

He shook his head, jaw clenched tight - "I told them I would personally take them down to one of the big pig farms in Milford and feed them to the pigs myself...." He took a deep breath. "Next question?"

"How is the kiddo doing?"

He leaned back for that one.
"You're going to have to talk with Doc Rupiah on that one. Some kind a Federal crap, HIPPAH stuff..." He added through clenched teeth, "They won't say **** to us, even when they get obviously abused children from the construction camps. I have an open legal case against the hospital corporation. East coast mooks - the State folks are working on pulling their permit to operate. Nothing against the staff, it's purely management. "

He stood. "I'll call the Doc for you – so he knows you're coming." He stuck out his hand once more – "Thanks again, everyone here knows the score."

That was clearly a dismissal. After shaking his hand, I walked out the door. I could find my own way out. I stopped by the reception desk on my way out. This time, a lady was working the phone.

"Excuse me?"
She held up a finger at the start of my question. After a second, she looked up.

"Hi. I'm new to town. How do I find the hospital?"

With a smile, she said, "Go back to the main road. Turn left. Next street after the traffic light, turn right. You'll see it right away. Go past the entrance marked as Emergency. Take the next entrance. Parking is around back. Okay?"

"Perfect! Thank you for your time."

"No problem Mr. Canyon. Please be careful in the turns. Traffic will be building by now..."

With nothing more than that, she turned back to her work. I went back to my car. I now had a lot to think about....

I was surprised at the size of the hospital. Middleton was a smallish burg, maybe three or four thousand folks. Though, for this part of the State, it was a major population and commerce center. Parking was no problem, and I soon found my way inside to the reception area. Now, no doubt, the fun would begin.

Walking up to the desk, I found a rather young person behind that desk. This struck me as odd, then again; this entire episode of my life was working its way up to top billing for wierdsville. Oh well...

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

That netted me a glare and a nasty, "Would I be sitting here if I didn't work here?"

I returned the hard look. I decided to jump in with both feet, what the hell – why not?

"Well, since you don't have an ID showing and every accredited facility, I've been in, to date mandated staff wear an ID, I'll ask you stow that punk-ass attitude and point me to someone here that can help me..."

The kid turned back to his cell phone with a snarled "Screw you, old man."

As I was pondering just how much time in the lockup I would get for bouncing this little ******* off the wall, when a woman ran up. She was frazzled looking, to say the least.

"Del! How many times have I told you, you can't sit out here?"

"And how many times have I told you my phone won't work in the break room?"

I could tell this was going to be part of an ongoing war I wanted no part of, so I just walked away. At some point, I would get stopped, by Security if nobody else and I would ask about the Doc then.
Surprisingly, I made it all the way into the Radiology department before someone stopped me.

At the polite, "Should you be here?", I replied with "Probably not, but I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah..."

"Ah. She works down in the ER wing. Go back and turn left, not right, at the corridor intersection."

"My thanks."

I tossed this over my shoulder before they could ask anything else. I quickly found a classic set of double doors marked for the Emergency Department and walked in. At the nurse's station, I got the attention of the standing nurse by saying, "Excuse me. I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah. The Sherriff sent me..."

I'd spend enough time wading through the Marine bureaucracy, I was prepared to go big or go home. The worst they could do was throw my ass out on the street.

He didn't even look up from the keyboard.

"You know better than to be in here. Go back to the triage area and look for her there..." This was accompanied by a vague arm wave.

Heading out in the direction of the waved arm, I made it through another set of double doors and into a what looked like a waiting room, this one with another set of doors clearly leading out into the bright sunlight.

This time when I walked up to the reception desk, I found an older woman who quickly asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah. Is she here? I was sent over by the Sherriff..."

"Just a moment..."

She picked up the handset of the phone, hitting several digits. A moment later she spoke so softly, I couldn't make out what she was saying. After dropping the handset back in the cradle, she pointed wordlessly to another woman walking up – this one wearing a light blue overcoat.

Before I could speak, she simply said, "Moses? Please follow me..." With she turned and walked rapidly away. A few minutes later, she entered a small room and waved me in.

This place had a nice couch, a set of padded chairs and a small desk with terminal in the corner. The walls were bare, only covered in some kind of light bluish material.

"Please have a seat. Sherriff Tayloe told me that you would be here today."

"Yes Ma'am, I'd like to know how the baby that came in via airevac yesterday is doing?"

She sat across from me in one of the chairs. She took a deep breath before saying, "Moses? May I call you Moses? My name in Ria. I have to ask a few questions first before I can..."

Right then I lost my cool, or what was left of it.

"For Eff's sake! How hard is it to just answer a simple question?"

To her credit, she just sat there passively before quietly asking, "Are you quite done?"

That was as good as a backhanded slap to my face.

"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry. It's just that.."

She held up her hand. "No problem, I hear it all the time. If I may...?"

"Go ahead."

I had no idea where this was going but I knew it wasn't going to be fun... Educational perhaps, but not at all fun. The hard, sharp edge of reality is rarely fun...

"Thank you for allowing me to explain. As you might surmise, this facility is very expensive to operate. Horribly expensive. Despite what many consider high billing costs, this only covers part of the revenue need to stay open. That means we need additional funds. Those funds come from the Government – Medicare, Medicaid and so on, both Federal and State, yes?"

I nodded. Medical costs were a giant sinkhole that seemed to eat money with little to show for it. Even I knew that much.

"Ah. Those funds all come with strings. That is to say, Laws, regulations based on those Laws, rules based on those regulations and policy to implement all of the above. It is quite the dance to meet those requirements to avoid having our funding strings cut.

Because, if we don't dance to their tune, we lose the funds. Which means we shut down. That would leave the people here with as much medical care as could be provided out the back of a van by paraprofessionals or in a doctor's office. Yes?"

"Yes."

"So, to dance to this tune, I must be careful. With money comes politics, and you know what that means. So, please, dance with me so I can answer your questions. Yes?"

"Ask away, Ria. And thank you for the backfill."

"No problem, Moses. What is your relationship to the patient we have registered as Baby Doe Number 6?"

To that, I gave her the Reader's Digest version of the story given to Sherriff Tayloe.

"Very good, Moses. Describe what care you offered to Baby Doe Number 6." She quickly held up her hand to add, "I have a reason to ask, so, please."

I described the shoelace patch I attempted. Holding up my hands, I added, "Honest to God, that was the best I could do...you know?"

My tears came unasked, I couldn't help myself.

She held up her hand again before gently asking, "Can you prove you were the one that provided this care?"

Her eyes said 'keep your cool and stay with me on this...'
I had to think for a second, the Sherriff had my videos....

"Ah!" I held up my shoe. Pointing to the short sided lace, I said, "I used my shoelace to tie off the umbilicus."

That got a large smile.

"Final question. Will you swear or affirm you are the one Moses Canyon as identified to us by the local Sherriff's department?"

I sat there open-mouthed. This **** had gone far enough....

"This is where you say 'I do swear or affirm', Moses...."

"Ahh. Okay. I do affirm."

To my utter surprise, she clapped her hands nearly shouting "BINGO."

"What the hell??"

She walked over to take my hand for a moment, before sitting back down.

"Thank you for working with me. Utah has a law. An old law. One passed back before computers, State-wide radio nets and all of this stuff we have today. Inside of this old law is...not a loophole, but, perhaps, a very small crack. And in this crack, I can establish that you had provided pre-hospital, critical, lifesaving care.
Absent any other governing legal authority, you now have a legally established right to be part of any care provided to this patient who is otherwise unable to give informed consent."

She smiled. "Minus all the legal Latin boilerplate and such, you are now what roughly translates to a shadow Guardian. You may provide input on the care given to the patient while not being responsible for costs or outcome."

I blurted out, "You have got to be ****ting me!"

"Sadly, Moses, I am not. Between big Insurance money, lawyers and politician's we have arrived at this sorry state of affairs."

I could only shake my head. "Fine. It is what it is... How is the baby doing?"

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that Baby Doe Number 6 passed away this morning, at about 3 AM. Despite all that the staff tried; she was just too far gone."

It was if someone had ripped out my heart. I could only sit, numb and disbelieving. Gone...?

Here, Ria walked over to the desk and looked at her terminal.

"It's lunchtime. Let me buy you some lunch and we can talk freely there. Yes?"

I could only nod...
*
Soon, we were sitting at a private table in the hospital cafeteria. Ria had chosen a salad; I was happy with a glass of iced tea. Breakfast hadn't been all that long ago.

"Moses, I'm sorry for your loss...our loss. The NICU staff was just so devastated." She shook her head.

"But we can only do what we can do, nothing more. After that, it is up to Deity for the outcome."

That caught my attention. What an odd word to use...

"I'm sorry, Ria. But – Deity?"

"Yes, Moses. Deity. I work every day in an environment that deals with a vast multitude of different belief systems and cultures, and some people with none of these at all. Despite being in rural Utah, it isn't one world, even out here..."

This was not worth a philosophical discussion right now. Maybe later...

"Okay. I assumed the baby had a crack-head mother..."

"No, sadly. Heroin addicted, more like. We found metabolites for opiates in her blood. She was born addicted. I have added that information to our report sent to the Coroner. My assumption is that he will use that information as a basis to recommend criminal charges for child abuse up to manslaughter in his report to the State."

She paused for a moment.

"That is, if they can ever find anyone to charge. That looks increasingly unlikely."

I chose to let that one go. Raging at the impossible is always a waste of time for everyone and will just give you an ulcer in the end.

"About this Baby Doe Number 6 business. What's that all about? I thought..."

Ria lifted a finger, which stopped me cold.

"We have to uniquely identify everyone that we take into our facility. It's both company policy and the Law. Given the circumstances, we go with a standard template that is widely used. Since she was the sixth orphan or unknown baby to be registered..."

I couldn't help myself. "Holy crap! You have that many babies that come in..."

"No, Moses, we don't. The County keeps track of these. I believe the current count started in the mid-1950s. This is necessary as any future legal action must have a unique identity for the victim. That would only make sense, yes?"

I could only mumble, "Sorry. I keep stepping in it.."

"Hardly." This said with a hint of a smile. "What else?"

"What comes next?"

"Not much else for the hospital. We've transferred her remains over to the Coroner for his workup. We'll make a file, and, in all likelihood, the file will be purged in the next five-year cycle. That bit of paper goes over to the County. What they do with it, you'll have to ask them."

"With that, she disappears, as if she never existed..."

I could see that hurt Ria, even though I hadn't meant to do so...

"There is little to nothing I can or could do about that, Moses. I have real world legal constraints, both from the government and the Corporation."

Here, she sat really silent for a couple of minutes as I nursed my tea.

"However, that's me. You on the other hand...you can do a lot about that."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have now been established as a kind of legal Guardian. You can bestow for her a first name. You can make arrangements for a burial service or even a headstone...all on your dime, of course. You are not powerless. At least, not completely."

She held up a hand, "This is why I led you in that dance earlier. I'm so tired, sick to death of..."

She looked into my eyes, "But you'll have to clear all of this or any other actions with the Coroner first, he has legal custody of her now."

"In that case, Ria, I have a man to see about Baby Jane. Thank you for so much for your time and understanding in this..."

She touched my hand, "No, Moses. Thank you. Thank you for giving a damn when you could have walked away. I don't see a lot of that today between strangers."

She paused for a second before adding, "The Coroner's office is on the other side of Main Street on this road. Can't miss it, large building with a van or two parked out front."

Ria stood in the doorway, waving as I drove off. I chose not to notice the tears streaming down her face.

Despite the directions from Ria, it still took me nearly a half hour to find the stupid building. She forgot to mention it would be hiding behind the local high school football pitch. The stadium seating was just tall enough to block seeing the building from the road.

Once I got that sorted, it took a bit to find my way to the parking area. I supposed, given the size of Middleton, even the County-wide Coroner would be a low-traffic situation. The entrance was plainly marked and unlocked.

The entrance was a small alcove, with a set of doors; one to either side of the wall facing the entrance. That wall had a hole, one holding a shelf just a few inches wide. As the door sighed shut behind me I heard a muffled beeboop sound announcing my arrival. Given my reception at the Sherriff's office, I decided it would be smart to keep my piehole shut.

A few moments later, a young woman walked up, but not too close to the 'window', and with a smile, she started to speak. After tilting her head, she spoke.

"Are you...Moses?"

I managed not to laugh as I replied, "I'm a Moses, but not the Moses."

Her laughter was...infectious.

I've learned to keep my mouth shut when guessing the age of a woman. Being rarely correct had been embarrassing more than once. But if this girl wasn't ditching class at the local high school, I really needed to recalibrate my assessment parameters. I noted her deep tan, longish blonde hair, now help in a ponytail and that she was buff enough to be either a farmhand or a weightlifter.

"Gotcha. Give me a second; I'll go fetch Doc McCarthy for you..."

As she disappeared through what must have been a door out of my sight, I gave her appearance another thought. Her short-sleeved blouse had a patch on one arm, a patch showing a Caduceus. What that might mean in a Coroner's office was a mystery to me. I made a mental note to ask about that.

It took a couple of minutes, but then she returned with a middle-aged man in tow. He was wearing a white lab coat, so I marked him as the fellow I wanted t talk with....

He started with, "Mr. Canyon?" At my nod he continued with "Burt called yesterday, said you'd be long at some point. Hang on..."

A few seconds later, the door to my right pooped open and Mr. Lab Coat waved me in. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed that his assistant hadn't been the one to let me in.

Anyway, I followed my guide until shown into a rather spacious office, one with an outside window. Pointing at the chair by a massive desk, he took a seat and once more graced me with a smile.

"Before you ask, Gwen is here on rotation. I have the ambulance Paramedics pull at least a week long shift here as part of their ongoing training. Required by law, their certification agency and it puts some real money into their pockets."

"Ambulance crew?" I couldn't keep the puzzlement out of my voice.

He shook his head. "You've been here long enough to hear about all of the construction...yes?"

At my nod, he continued, "When the construction companies showed up to get all their permits, they demanded a full-time, paid ambulance service to support their crews. The County Commissioners, to their credit, told them they could have whatever support they wanted to pay for."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed out loud.

"I guess the demands for a tax holiday, reduced taxes and the rest went over just as well..."

He leaned back into the overstuffed chair. "I missed the meeting. I would have loved to be the fly on the wall. The County had been burned pretty badly in the past by the folks that put up the egg factory, so the Board was having none of it. I heard that one of the Board members told them to stuff their demands where the sun doesn't shine; they were more than welcome to cover California with solar panels..."

He sighed, "They showed up anyway – the land leases here are a faction of what is demanded in California and despite paying full fare here, the taxes are a pittance to what they faced elsewhere. They howled and fussed, but the Board held firm. That didn't help in the long run."

"Let me guess, paid lobbyists hitting the State capitol?"

The grim-faced reply said it all.

"More like a plague of locusts. The State-level weenies could only see new revenue to loot and not the real costs to locals. It took a lawsuit by the Mayor here to put a stop to it. Home Rule and all that."

Now leaning forward, he said, "You didn't come here to discuss the local tax scene or politics. What can I do for you? Bruce said you'd be by at some point. I thought not."

I gave myself a few seconds to digest that last statement before starting.

"Ahh, yeah. I just left the hospital after lunch with Ria. I have a couple of questions..."

I noted the play of emotions across his face as I waited for his reply...

'I would strongly suggest you not ask to view the remains of Baby Doe. As bad as she looked out there, the sight of the efforts from the NICU staff are...not for the faint of heart. My examination didn't help things on appearance. She wouldn't get an open casket funeral anywhere around here."

I just nodded. "Never a consideration for me. I hate the open casket thing as a matter of preference. Last seen, best remembered. That sort of deal, eh?"

He nodded. "Okay. I get that. Ask away."

This was going to take a while, so I shifted my weight in the chair and folded my hands into my lap...

"What happens to the remains of these Baby Doe types?"

"All unclaimed remains are cremated and interred at the common grave area behind the regular crematory. The graves are marked with a tin plate, one with holes punched into the plate with the coroner's case number. Currently, the local churches are on rotation to provide a simple service, unless some identifying material is found with the body. Say, a crucifix necklace for example. Then the Christian pastors flip a coin."

He paused for a long minuet. "We aren't completely heartless, but with no known relatives, not much else we can do- or afford to do."

"Just a wooden box in a hole, eh?"

"No, Moses. Not quite. The local pottery club got together a few years back and started making clay urns for the ashes. I give the head of the club an estimate of the volume required and about a week later, one of the members' drops off a fired urn. Some are quite...striking."

I nodded my understanding. The community involvement seemed about right for small town USA.

"How long do you keep the...remains?"

"If there is an open investigation, we store the remains until the case is closed. Otherwise, the remains are cremated within 30 days. Usually, this all happens a lot sooner. I have very limited storage space here..."

"And for my Baby Doe?"

That question got me a long silence.....

"I don't know why, but this Baby Doe case has really caused a firestorm locally. People I've talked with are...really pissed off in a way I've not seen before. I have to say the dumped on the side of the road in a paper bag part just adds to the...maybe not rage, but certainly, a lot of outrage.
I've pulled a full set of samples for a complete DNA workup, which will go into the national database, marked as a felony child abuse and likely a murder case as well. Until I get a clearance from the Sherriff on how he will be allowed to charge, she stays here. I'm guessing this will be a week or so for all the paperwork to flow through the system, both here and at the State levels."

I nodded; this all rang very true to me. I was still pissed off at the dumped on the side of the road thing as well.

"While talking with Ria, she indicated that the Law can now see me as..."

Doc McCarthy interrupted with; "Section 409, subsection 15, Part 1 with Annex 4. You are a ghost Guardian. I agree with and support that. I was surprised when Ria dug that up some time back. Great little twist on the Law. Before that, when the hospital or the paramedics were in that bind, or the patient's Guardian refused required life-saving medical case, the cops just arrest the patient for causing a public nuance and thus they became wards of the State."

He shook his head slowly. "Well, that stunt doesn't work anymore. Mostly because the State or County doesn't want to get stuck with the billing for the care provided." Here, he shrugged. "Not my circus, not my monkeys. It's bad enough I have to host the paramedics."

He looked up quickly, "And by that, I mean the County won't fund a full-time ambulance service. They do seem happy to foot my full budget – so...damned if I can figure out a politician's thought process."

Now I was curious. I'd never seen this dysfunctional a setup before in my life, though the Marines came awfully close in too many ways.

"Care to explain how this works to me...?"

"I get funded for two full-time assistants. I use the paramedic staff on a rotating basis. They really are a help and as a real side benefit, they get high-end training. I'm talking about making real intraosseosus infusions, or a subclavian cutdown for an IV, something lifesaving in the field, at the accident site." He paused, "We get permission in advance from the family, of course."

"Sounds like a real win-win to me. How long do they get to work here?"

"I use a Tower of Babel type rotation, most will get a full two-week shift, with full pay. When the call comes in, they just have to walk across the lot to the ambulance barn. The hose-humpers are right there if the medics need some muscle for the situation."

He glanced at his watch, a clue for me to wrap it up...

"Look, can I ask for a name change...?"

"Like what?"

"Baby Jane Doe?"

"May I ask why?"

I got pretty intense right here, "To inject some bit of humanity in the process, that's why. Will it be a problem...?"

He shook his head. "Not in the least. I can't allow a surname name, for any number of reasons, both legal and ethical. I'll make the change today, and in all the reports."

With a smile, he added, "Anything else?'

"For now, no. I have a few things I need to check on, so, can I get a rain check?"

"Absolutely. Just so you know, I not allowed to do any of this stuff. For good reason. Any idea of when you'll be back with the rest?"

I had to think a bit for that question.

"A day or two, I don't think any more than that..."

The sun had made the inside of the bus quite warm, a nice change from the chilly weather to date.

Quote from: TACAIR on October 30, 2025, 12:03:49 AMNo comments?

I was hoping for some kind of feedback.

Don

Couldn't have commented earlier, I just found it.  Interesting storyline . . . having worked CPS, that part of it caught me a bit off-guard; I'll need to think about it for a bit.  Nice internal consistency, decent copy-editing (sorry, pet peeve).  Most-relevant thing to say might be that I guard my reading time, but just read this from beginning to the 10/30/25 update.  

Nicely done, thank you for posting it.

I was surprised at the size of the hospital. Middleton was a smallish burg, maybe three or four thousand folks. Though, for this part of the State, it was a major population and commerce center. Parking was no problem, and I soon found my way inside to the reception area. Now, no doubt, the fun would begin.

Walking up to the desk, I found a rather young person behind that desk. This struck me as odd, then again; this entire episode of my life was working its way up to top billing for wierdsville. Oh well...

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

That netted me a glare and a nasty, "Would I be sitting here if I didn't work here?"

I returned the hard look. I decided to jump in with both feet, what the hell – why not?

"Well, since you don't have an ID showing and every accredited facility, I've been in, to date mandated staff wear an ID, I'll ask you stow that punk-ass attitude and point me to someone here that can help me..."

The kid turned back to his cell phone with a snarled "Screw you, old man."

As I was pondering just how much time in the lockup I would get for bouncing this little ******* off the wall, when a woman ran up. She was frazzled looking, to say the least.

"Del! How many times have I told you, you can't sit out here?"

"And how many times have I told you my phone won't work in the break room?"

I could tell this was going to be part of an ongoing war I wanted no part of, so I just walked away. At some point, I would get stopped, by Security if nobody else and I would ask about the Doc then.
Surprisingly, I made it all the way into the Radiology department before someone stopped me.

At the polite, "Should you be here?", I replied with "Probably not, but I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah..."

"Ah. She works down in the ER wing. Go back and turn left, not right, at the corridor intersection."

"My thanks."

I tossed this over my shoulder before they could ask anything else. I quickly found a classic set of double doors marked for the Emergency Department and walked in. At the nurse's station, I got the attention of the standing nurse by saying, "Excuse me. I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah. The Sherriff sent me..."

I'd spend enough time wading through the Marine bureaucracy, I was prepared to go big or go home. The worst they could do was throw my ass out on the street.

He didn't even look up from the keyboard.

"You know better than to be in here. Go back to the triage area and look for her there..." This was accompanied by a vague arm wave.

Heading out in the direction of the waved arm, I made it through another set of double doors and into a what looked like a waiting room, this one with another set of doors clearly leading out into the bright sunlight.

This time when I walked up to the reception desk, I found an older woman who quickly asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Doctor Rupiah. Is she here? I was sent over by the Sherriff..."

"Just a moment..."

She picked up the handset of the phone, hitting several digits. A moment later she spoke so softly, I couldn't make out what she was saying. After dropping the handset back in the cradle, she pointed wordlessly to another woman walking up – this one wearing a light blue overcoat.

Before I could speak, she simply said, "Moses? Please follow me..." With she turned and walked rapidly away. A few minutes later, she entered a small room and waved me in.

This place had a nice couch, a set of padded chairs and a small desk with terminal in the corner. The walls were bare, only covered in some kind of light bluish material.

"Please have a seat. Sherriff Tayloe told me that you would be here today."

"Yes Ma'am, I'd like to know how the baby that came in via airevac yesterday is doing?"

She sat across from me in one of the chairs. She took a deep breath before saying, "Moses? May I call you Moses? My name in Ria. I have to ask a few questions first before I can..."

Right then I lost my cool, or what was left of it.

"For Eff's sake! How hard is it to just answer a simple question?"

To her credit, she just sat there passively before quietly asking, "Are you quite done?"

That was as good as a backhanded slap to my face.

"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry. It's just that.."

She held up her hand. "No problem, I hear it all the time. If I may...?"

"Go ahead."

I had no idea where this was going but I knew it wasn't going to be fun... Educational perhaps, but not at all fun. The hard, sharp edge of reality is rarely fun...

"Thank you for allowing me to explain. As you might surmise, this facility is very expensive to operate. Horribly expensive. Despite what many consider high billing costs, this only covers part of the revenue need to stay open. That means we need additional funds. Those funds come from the Government – Medicare, Medicaid and so on, both Federal and State, yes?"

I nodded. Medical costs were a giant sinkhole that seemed to eat money with little to show for it. Even I knew that much.

"Ah. Those funds all come with strings. That is to say, Laws, regulations based on those Laws, rules based on those regulations and policy to implement all of the above. It is quite the dance to meet those requirements to avoid having our funding strings cut.

Because, if we don't dance to their tune, we lose the funds. Which means we shut down. That would leave the people here with as much medical care as could be provided out the back of a van by paraprofessionals or in a doctor's office. Yes?"

"Yes."

"So, to dance to this tune, I must be careful. With money comes politics, and you know what that means. So, please, dance with me so I can answer your questions. Yes?"

"Ask away, Ria. And thank you for the backfill."

"No problem, Moses. What is your relationship to the patient we have registered as Baby Doe Number 6?"

To that, I gave her the Reader's Digest version of the story given to Sherriff Tayloe.

"Very good, Moses. Describe what care you offered to Baby Doe Number 6." She quickly held up her hand to add, "I have a reason to ask, so, please."

I described the shoelace patch I attempted. Holding up my hands, I added, "Honest to God, that was the best I could do...you know?"

My tears came unasked, I couldn't help myself.

She held up her hand again before gently asking, "Can you prove you were the one that provided this care?"

Her eyes said 'keep your cool and stay with me on this...'
I had to think for a second, the Sherriff had my videos....

"Ah!" I held up my shoe. Pointing to the short sided lace, I said, "I used my shoelace to tie off the umbilicus."

That got a large smile.

"Final question. Will you swear or affirm you are the one Moses Canyon as identified to us by the local Sherriff's department?"

I sat there open-mouthed. This **** had gone far enough....

"This is where you say 'I do swear or affirm', Moses...."

"Ahh. Okay. I do affirm."

To my utter surprise, she clapped her hands nearly shouting "BINGO."

"What the hell??"

She walked over to take my hand for a moment, before sitting back down.

"Thank you for working with me. Utah has a law. An old law. One passed back before computers, State-wide radio nets and all of this stuff we have today. Inside of this old law is...not a loophole, but, perhaps, a very small crack. And in this crack, I can establish that you had provided pre-hospital, critical, lifesaving care.
Absent any other governing legal authority, you now have a legally established right to be part of any care provided to this patient who is otherwise unable to give informed consent."

She smiled. "Minus all the legal Latin boilerplate and such, you are now what roughly translates to a shadow Guardian. You may provide input on the care given to the patient while not being responsible for costs or outcome."

I blurted out, "You have got to be ****ting me!"

"Sadly, Moses, I am not. Between big Insurance money, lawyers and politician's we have arrived at this sorry state of affairs."

I could only shake my head. "Fine. It is what it is... How is the baby doing?"

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that Baby Doe Number 6 passed away this morning, at about 3 AM. Despite all that the staff tried; she was just too far gone."

It was if someone had ripped out my heart. I could only sit, numb and disbelieving. Gone...?

Here, Ria walked over to the desk and looked at her terminal.

"It's lunchtime. Let me buy you some lunch and we can talk freely there. Yes?"

I could only nod...
*
Soon, we were sitting at a private table in the hospital cafeteria. Ria had chosen a salad; I was happy with a glass of iced tea. Breakfast hadn't been all that long ago.

"Moses, I'm sorry for your loss...our loss. The NICU staff was just so devastated." She shook her head.

"But we can only do what we can do, nothing more. After that, it is up to Deity for the outcome."

That caught my attention. What an odd word to use...

"I'm sorry, Ria. But – Deity?"

"Yes, Moses. Deity. I work every day in an environment that deals with a vast multitude of different belief systems and cultures, and some people with none of these at all. Despite being in rural Utah, it isn't one world, even out here..."

This was not worth a philosophical discussion right now. Maybe later...

"Okay. I assumed the baby had a crack-head mother..."

"No, sadly. Heroin addicted, more like. We found metabolites for opiates in her blood. She was born addicted. I have added that information to our report sent to the Coroner. My assumption is that he will use that information as a basis to recommend criminal charges for child abuse up to manslaughter in his report to the State."

She paused for a moment.

"That is, if they can ever find anyone to charge. That looks increasingly unlikely."

I chose to let that one go. Raging at the impossible is always a waste of time for everyone and will just give you an ulcer in the end.

"About this Baby Doe Number 6 business. What's that all about? I thought..."

Ria lifted a finger, which stopped me cold.

"We have to uniquely identify everyone that we take into our facility. It's both company policy and the Law. Given the circumstances, we go with a standard template that is widely used. Since she was the sixth orphan or unknown baby to be registered..."

I couldn't help myself. "Holy crap! You have that many babies that come in..."

"No, Moses, we don't. The County keeps track of these. I believe the current count started in the mid-1950s. This is necessary as any future legal action must have a unique identity for the victim. That would only make sense, yes?"

I could only mumble, "Sorry. I keep stepping in it.."

"Hardly." This said with a hint of a smile. "What else?"

"What comes next?"

"Not much else for the hospital. We've transferred her remains over to the Coroner for his workup. We'll make a file, and, in all likelihood, the file will be purged in the next five-year cycle. That bit of paper goes over to the County. What they do with it, you'll have to ask them."

"With that, she disappears, as if she never existed..."

I could see that hurt Ria, even though I hadn't meant to do so...

"There is little to nothing I can or could do about that, Moses. I have real world legal constraints, both from the government and the Corporation."

Here, she sat really silent for a couple of minutes as I nursed my tea.

"However, that's me. You on the other hand...you can do a lot about that."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have now been established as a kind of legal Guardian. You can bestow for her a first name. You can make arrangements for a burial service or even a headstone...all on your dime, of course. You are not powerless. At least, not completely."

She held up a hand, "This is why I led you in that dance earlier. I'm so tired, sick to death of..."

She looked into my eyes, "But you'll have to clear all of this or any other actions with the Coroner first, he has legal custody of her now."

"In that case, Ria, I have a man to see about Baby Jane. Thank you for so much for your time and understanding in this..."

She touched my hand, "No, Moses. Thank you. Thank you for giving a damn when you could have walked away. I don't see a lot of that today between strangers."

She paused for a second before adding, "The Coroner's office is on the other side of Main Street on this road. Can't miss it, large building with a van or two parked out front."

Ria stood in the doorway, waving as I drove off. I chose not to notice the tears streaming down her face.

Despite the directions from Ria, it still took me nearly a half hour to find the stupid building. She forgot to mention it would be hiding behind the local high school football pitch. The stadium seating was just tall enough to block seeing the building from the road.

Once I got that sorted, it took a bit to find my way to the parking area. I supposed, given the size of Middleton, even the County-wide Coroner would be a low-traffic situation. The entrance was plainly marked and unlocked.

The entrance was a small alcove, with a set of doors; one to either side of the wall facing the entrance. That wall had a hole, one holding a shelf just a few inches wide. As the door sighed shut behind me I heard a muffled beeboop sound announcing my arrival. Given my reception at the Sherriff's office, I decided it would be smart to keep my piehole shut.

A few moments later, a young woman walked up, but not too close to the 'window', and with a smile, she started to speak. After tilting her head, she spoke.

"Are you...Moses?"

I managed not to laugh as I replied, "I'm a Moses, but not the Moses."

Her laughter was...infectious.

I've learned to keep my mouth shut when guessing the age of a woman. Being rarely correct had been embarrassing more than once. But if this girl wasn't ditching class at the local high school, I really needed to recalibrate my assessment parameters. I noted her deep tan, longish blonde hair, now help in a ponytail and that she was buff enough to be either a farmhand or a weightlifter.

"Gotcha. Give me a second; I'll go fetch Doc McCarthy for you..."

As she disappeared through what must have been a door out of my sight, I gave her appearance another thought. Her short-sleeved blouse had a patch on one arm, a patch showing a Caduceus. What that might mean in a Coroner's office was a mystery to me. I made a mental note to ask about that.

It took a couple of minutes, but then she returned with a middle-aged man in tow. He was wearing a white lab coat, so I marked him as the fellow I wanted t talk with....

He started with, "Mr. Canyon?" At my nod he continued with "Burt called yesterday, said you'd be long at some point. Hang on..."

A few seconds later, the door to my right pooped open and Mr. Lab Coat waved me in. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed that his assistant hadn't been the one to let me in.

Anyway, I followed my guide until shown into a rather spacious office, one with an outside window. Pointing at the chair by a massive desk, he took a seat and once more graced me with a smile.

"Before you ask, Gwen is here on rotation. I have the ambulance Paramedics pull at least a week long shift here as part of their ongoing training. Required by law, their certification agency and it puts some real money into their pockets."

"Ambulance crew?" I couldn't keep the puzzlement out of my voice.

He shook his head. "You've been here long enough to hear about all of the construction...yes?"

At my nod, he continued, "When the construction companies showed up to get all their permits, they demanded a full-time, paid ambulance service to support their crews. The County Commissioners, to their credit, told them they could have whatever support they wanted to pay for."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed out loud.

"I guess the demands for a tax holiday, reduced taxes and the rest went over just as well..."

He leaned back into the overstuffed chair. "I missed the meeting. I would have loved to be the fly on the wall. The County had been burned pretty badly in the past by the folks that put up the egg factory, so the Board was having none of it. I heard that one of the Board members told them to stuff their demands where the sun doesn't shine; they were more than welcome to cover California with solar panels..."

He sighed, "They showed up anyway – the land leases here are a faction of what is demanded in California and despite paying full fare here, the taxes are a pittance to what they faced elsewhere. They howled and fussed, but the Board held firm. That didn't help in the long run."

"Let me guess, paid lobbyists hitting the State capitol?"

The grim-faced reply said it all.

"More like a plague of locusts. The State-level weenies could only see new revenue to loot and not the real costs to locals. It took a lawsuit by the Mayor here to put a stop to it. Home Rule and all that."

Now leaning forward, he said, "You didn't come here to discuss the local tax scene or politics. What can I do for you? Bruce said you'd be by at some point. I thought not."

I gave myself a few seconds to digest that last statement before starting.

"Ahh, yeah. I just left the hospital after lunch with Ria. I have a couple of questions..."

I noted the play of emotions across his face as I waited for his reply...

'I would strongly suggest you not ask to view the remains of Baby Doe. As bad as she looked out there, the sight of the efforts from the NICU staff are...not for the faint of heart. My examination didn't help things on appearance. She wouldn't get an open casket funeral anywhere around here."

I just nodded. "Never a consideration for me. I hate the open casket thing as a matter of preference. Last seen, best remembered. That sort of deal, eh?"

He nodded. "Okay. I get that. Ask away."

This was going to take a while, so I shifted my weight in the chair and folded my hands into my lap...

"What happens to the remains of these Baby Doe types?"

"All unclaimed remains are cremated and interred at the common grave area behind the regular crematory. The graves are marked with a tin plate, one with holes punched into the plate with the coroner's case number. Currently, the local churches are on rotation to provide a simple service, unless some identifying material is found with the body. Say, a crucifix necklace for example. Then the Christian pastors flip a coin."

He paused for a long minuet. "We aren't completely heartless, but with no known relatives, not much else we can do- or afford to do."

"Just a wooden box in a hole, eh?"

"No, Moses. Not quite. The local pottery club got together a few years back and started making clay urns for the ashes. I give the head of the club an estimate of the volume required and about a week later, one of the members' drops off a fired urn. Some are quite...striking."

I nodded my understanding. The community involvement seemed about right for small town USA.

"How long do you keep the...remains?"

"If there is an open investigation, we store the remains until the case is closed. Otherwise, the remains are cremated within 30 days. Usually, this all happens a lot sooner. I have very limited storage space here..."

"And for my Baby Doe?"

That question got me a long silence.....

"I don't know why, but this Baby Doe case has really caused a firestorm locally. People I've talked with are...really pissed off in a way I've not seen before. I have to say the dumped on the side of the road in a paper bag part just adds to the...maybe not rage, but certainly, a lot of outrage.
I've pulled a full set of samples for a complete DNA workup, which will go into the national database, marked as a felony child abuse and likely a murder case as well. Until I get a clearance from the Sherriff on how he will be allowed to charge, she stays here. I'm guessing this will be a week or so for all the paperwork to flow through the system, both here and at the State levels."

I nodded; this all rang very true to me. I was still pissed off at the dumped on the side of the road thing as well.

"While talking with Ria, she indicated that the Law can now see me as..."

Doc McCarthy interrupted with; "Section 409, subsection 15, Part 1 with Annex 4. You are a ghost Guardian. I agree with and support that. I was surprised when Ria dug that up some time back. Great little twist on the Law. Before that, when the hospital or the paramedics were in that bind, or the patient's Guardian refused required life-saving medical case, the cops just arrest the patient for causing a public nuance and thus they became wards of the State."

He shook his head slowly. "Well, that stunt doesn't work anymore. Mostly because the State or County doesn't want to get stuck with the billing for the care provided." Here, he shrugged. "Not my circus, not my monkeys. It's bad enough I have to host the paramedics."

He looked up quickly, "And by that, I mean the County won't fund a full-time ambulance service. They do seem happy to foot my full budget – so...damned if I can figure out a politician's thought process."

Now I was curious. I'd never seen this dysfunctional a setup before in my life, though the Marines came awfully close in too many ways.

"Care to explain how this works to me...?"

"I get funded for two full-time assistants. I use the paramedic staff on a rotating basis. They really are a help and as a real side benefit, they get high-end training. I'm talking about making real intraosseosus infusions, or a subclavian cutdown for an IV, something lifesaving in the field, at the accident site." He paused, "We get permission in advance from the family, of course."

"Sounds like a real win-win to me. How long do they get to work here?"

"I use a Tower of Babel type rotation, most will get a full two-week shift, with full pay. When the call comes in, they just have to walk across the lot to the ambulance barn. The hose-humpers are right there if the medics need some muscle for the situation."

He glanced at his watch, a clue for me to wrap it up...

"Look, can I ask for a name change...?"

"Like what?"

"Baby Jane Doe?"

"May I ask why?"

I got pretty intense right here, "To inject some bit of humanity in the process, that's why. Will it be a problem...?"

He shook his head. "Not in the least. I can't allow a surname name, for any number of reasons, both legal and ethical. I'll make the change today, and in all the reports."

With a smile, he added, "Anything else?'

"For now, no. I have a few things I need to check on, so, can I get a rain check?"

"Absolutely. Just so you know, I not allowed to do any of this stuff. For good reason. Any idea of when you'll be back with the rest?"

I had to think a bit for that question.

"A day or two, I don't think any more than that..."

The sun had made the inside of the bus quite warm, a nice change from the chilly weather to date.

My side trip yesterday on the way back to the RV park had been quite fruitful The auto parts store, a national brand, had the oil, filter and synthetic grease I has wanted to use for some time. After I changed the oil, I was going to service the front wheel bearings and double check the brake pads up front. I'd replaced the rear drum pads this summer while working a welding gig in Tucson. Now, I had the time for the other parts of the system.

While it was early, I took a risk and went back to the café for the chance of another a good breakfast. The place was packed, but before I could turn around to leave, my little pixie girl popped up.

"If you want to eat out on the patio, I can get your order right away." The bright smile was a bonus.
There was enough warm sun showing that sitting outside actually had some appeal. That and the place was jammed cheek to jowl with roughly clad men intent on wolfing down something before a long day at work.

"That would be wonderful, Sonya. Short stack, two eggs over easy and coffee.."

She just nodded, pointing to a door leading outside to a few tables scattered around on a flagstone surface. I found a comfortable chair and moved it to sit with my back to the sun.

I just had time to look over the area before Sonya dropped off my coffee and cream with a quick, "I'll have the rest in a bit."

The door didn't completely close and I heard one of the customers give her a ration for serving me before she got his coffee. Her response was....enlightening.

"Tough. That guy is both local and a regular. You don't like the service here; you are more than welcome to go eat breakfast at the gas station..."

Given what I knew of her recent past, she had either gotten a lot tougher or was certain others had her back. I'd pushed my chair back in case the scene had gotten ugly... In the end, the guy left and I enjoyed my coffee.

Something like 10 minutes later, she dropped a plate with my pancakes and to my surprise, a container of honey. At my look, she simply said, "I asked yesterday, the cook found some extra honey." With another smile adding, "She also said she'd rather have you as a regular customer, if you know what I mean...".

"I do and thanks!"

She hadn't left the tab, so I guessed that meant she was in quite the hurry. That didn't keep me from enjoying a nice and quiet meal with the sun warming my back on a cloudless day. Just as I finished my coffee, Sonya returned, coffee pot in hand.

"Sorry, no more coffee. I've really got to jet. Lots of chores today yet to be done," I held up a twenty, "Good?"

"Perfect." As she gathered up the flatware, she asked, "Tomorrow?"

I had to laugh. "Yup, same bat time, same bat channel..."

Now with a puzzled look, she said, "I'm sorry??"

I laughed even harder. "Sorry, vague reference to a very old TV show. Yes, I'll be here tomorrow and I'll have the same. Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Just come out here straightaway and grab a seat, the old farts don't show up till much later for their coffee and cigarette bull sessions..." Then looking directly into my eyes, she said, "Just tap the window by the register so I know you're here. Okay?"

"Will do. By the way, I should have asked your permission, is it okay to call you Sonya?"

That caused her to stop completely still and turn toward me.

"Around here, folks don't need to ask permission to use someone's first name. So, call me Sonya if you want. That's my name."

"Indeed. Please, call me Moses, if you would care to..."

That got me the brightest smile yet. "I will do just that, Mr. Moses... And yes, I know it's your first name, but the mister just sounds better - to me..."

"Mr. Moses it is then. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

With that, we parted ways. I went back to the RV park and her to her work. There was something about that kid I just couldn't put my finger on, but she was going to important to me at some point in time... I just knew it.


The oil change went without a single hiccup. I checked the valve clearances and they all came up roses as well. Now it was time to start on the front end. I'd moved the bus to the far side of the parking area, opposite my cabin. The office lady had no objection, provided I didn't make a mess. There, a couple of woebegone trees provided some relief from the now very bright sunshine. It was also nice to be far away from anyone that might stop by to kibitz.

Bus jacked up, jack stand in place, front tire removed and stowed under the frame, I got into it. With the brake caliper safely hanging from the shock tower, the dust cover off, the castle nut removed and sitting on a clean piece of cardboard leftover from my oil change, and I was ready to tease out the bearing out of the hub for cleaning, examination and a new slathering of high temperature synth grease.

I heard the auto pull up and park behind my bus. I just had to look to see who had the entirety of a huge – no, make that a massive parking lot and they chose to park right behind my rig... I didn't have to wait very long.

The woman was tall enough to be more than shoulder high to the side window, sported a ponytail of screaming red hair and was built like a model for a fashion house. In other words, she was completely out of place here in Middleton. That could only mean trouble....big trouble. At that revelation, I turned back to my work at hand.

"Excuse me? You happen to be Moses Canyon?"

Perhaps ignoring her might make her go away... I removed the outer bearing, dropping it into the small bread pan next to my leg. Then with the help of my deadfall hammer, started tapping the hub to encourage it to slide off the spindle. Just about then she walked away.

That victory was short lived, as she returned – with a folding chair. Setting it up in front of the bus, I couldn't help but to notice when she folded one shapely leg over the other.

"You should know now; I'm not going away. I'm just that kind of girl..."

I'm ashamed to admit, I rose to the obvious bait. "What kind of girl would that be...a pest?"

"Hardly, Mr. Canyon, if that's who you are. I'm a reporter. I work for the local newspaper."

I put my tools down. "Bull. ****! There is no local paper. I've tried to buy one and was told, more than once, the paper that was here, folded two years ago. Try again, Big Red..."

I had no idea of the game she wanted to play, but starting off with an outright lie wasn't a good game plan. Not that I was going to play to begin with... That name really plucked her twanger, but good.

"My name is Tiffany Crystalake. The Herald-Examiner when Green two years ago. We stopped aiding the deforestation that was..."

I cut her off with, "You went bankrupt. Lost the office and all goods related to your creditors. Don't try that holier-than-thou Green crap with me girl. Go away, I'm busy and don't have time to waste on whatever scam you're trying to pull."

My shot in the dark hit home. Her open-mouthed expression also showed she had yet to deal with real world, in your face, pushback. If she was a reporter, she was so wet behind the ears as to be useless or so used to her stunning good looks that she always had her way in interviews.

She recovered her composure soon enough. "Not a scam. I want to do a story on you and Baby Doe Number 6. My sources tell me that..."

"Stop! Go dig in some other pit if you want to splash your ghoulish crap online." I glared at her, "NO COMMENT!" After a second's pause, I added "And you make up anything and try to attribute as a quote, I warn you now, I have a lawyer on retainer – and he lives to tear into mass media jerks..."

To my great surprise, she looked as though I'd just hit her with a closed fist. Tears were starting to form at the corners of her eyes...

Had I come back too hard? After all the crap I went thru on Nancy and Buster's deaths, I had zero tolerance for ghouls in the news biz.

We just sat and stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time.

She finally broke the silence. "My apologies Mr. Canyon. I was touched by your kind gesture to an abandoned child and thought it worth a story in our publication. Yes, the paper end of the business folded, but our online edition still sells advertising and we have garnered a couple of State level awards for our reporting." The tears didn't help....

I leaned my head over to the wheel well for support. The sigh was just a bonus statement from me.

"Look Miss...Crystal, if that really is your name and I doubt that. I have my reasons for that last bit. In my defense, I'll just say your approach was more than a little off-putting..."

That caused her to learn forward in the chair, looking very intently at me with what turned out to be very deep green eyes...

I blurted out, "Are you by chance, any relation to Sonya, the gal that works at the café?"

Caught by surprise, she replied, "Yes. She's my youngest cousin. Why? You haven't been hitting on her, have you?!?"

It was my turn to recoil just a bit.

"You must think very poorly of all men if you think I would stoop to hit on a kid. Holy crap, woman, what's your problem...?"

The mutual glaring contest started anew.

The sun actually moved in the sky before she blinked.

"So, what approach should I have used?" This seemed genuine and also convinced me I would never understand women. Talk about shifting gears midstream...

"An honest question deserves an honest answer."

I went back to teasing out the inner bearing still trapped inside the hub. She remained silent for several minutes as I completed the task.

"You might have introduced yourself, then identifying to me that you worked for an online publication." I paused for a bit as I wiped the grease off the bearings.

"Then, stated you were working a Baby Doe story and asked for any comments. All very neutral... It would have helped if you laid out the theme of the story - like the story was to be crime focused, human interest or so on."

Here, she closed her eyes, not trying to wipe away the stream of tears now flowing down her face. Folding her hands in her lap, she remained both silent and still, like a statue.

I interrupted her funk with a question. "Excuse me, do you happen to currently be pregnant?"

Her eyes snapped open, and if looks could kill, I was sitting in a puddle of my own blood.

"What the hell kind of question is that!"

I held up the can of brake cleaner, and then tapped my finger on the label.

"I asked because this product label claims bad side effects for pregnant women if exposed to the vapors... Oh, and that it can kill salamanders in California. I know I'm not pregnant, and I'm not a salamander. So, just being polite to ask before I spray off my bearings..."

She stood up, folded her chair and walked away. Not stormed away, just walked. I knew victory was lost when the car didn't start....

I was nearly finished with the bearings. They were both in excellent shape and just before I started the greasing of the pair I heard a voice behind me...

"Excuse me - I'm sorry as I see you are busy. May I steal few moments of your time? My name is Crystalake, Tiffany Crystalake. I work for the Herald-Examiner, an online news reporting site. I'm working a story on a local event; an abandoned child and I understand you were involved."

I looked over to see her squatting on her heels, just out of reach, but close enough I could smell her perfume. It reminded me of the scent used by Nancy... I nearly lost it right there. Still, those green eyes were, were so bewitching.

"Glad to meet you ma'am. You obviously know my name – what can I do for you?"

"Well, let me buy you lunch and have a discussion over that lunch. I see the story as one of man who, despite being in a hard, cold world, took the time and took a real risk to help one of the most helpless sorts of people I know of in the world these days..."

She won right there. A total victory at many levels.

"Fine. Why don't you open the side door and have a seat. We can start now while I finish with the bearings."

Once she was seated, her first question was a bit odd.

"If I may, how old are you? I only ask to give my readers a framework for the actions you took."

"Do I really look that old?"

I had to ask, one never has a real clue on their looks as received by others, despite what the shaving mirror might say.

The soft reply floated down to me, "Yes and no. You look to be a hard case, but I know that's from hard experience, not age. Still, I was honest in both the question and the reason for asking it."

"Okay. I'm 38 this year. Before you ask, I had 10 years in the Corps, four of those in the sandbox and Africa."

That caused a sharp intake of breath. "My God, what did you do?"

"Tried my damnest to stay alive, something not too easy on most days. I came out in second place. I was medically discharged about 8 years ago. I think that worked best for both me and the Corps. Good enough?"

"More than I had wanted but thank you so much. I'll not use that desert part, but it does matter, just the same."

"Next?"

"What was the crack about Sonya?"

More proof about women. That was such a shift; it could have given lesser men a bad case of whiplash....

"It wasn't a crack. She works at the café and seems like a real nice kid. The red hair and the green eyes are not all that common in this area. I jumped to the conclusion you might be related. Sorry."

"Well, it was an honest jump. I'm sorry about the hitting on her part. It's just that...

"Assholes hit on her - all day, every day. That would explain the baggy blouses and knee length skirts. After what I heard this morning, I think she's growing a thicker skin and an attitude that will help in the long run. May I ask how bad it was for you in college?"

"You may not."

"No problem. How about your major?"

"You first."

"What makes you think I did the college thing?"

That caused her to pause for a bit and allowed me to concentrate on getting the castle nut on the spindle just tight enough, but not too much.

"Okay, Mr. Moses, I can't really say. Call it reporter's intuition. But I know you have a real education..."

"Who am I to argue with an ace reporter? Yes. But, if you laugh, I'll smack your knee." That knee was hovering just a few inches from my shoulder. I had ulterior motives for asking her to sit in the doorway...

"I wont' laugh, if you won't"

"Deal! Now, you go first..."

"Nope. I asked first. Being as I'm a lady and all..."

"Northern Arizona University. Cultural Archeology. Not Anthropology – I'm not so full of myself as to even guess how people used the bits of widgets I was looking for."

"How in the world did that lead to the Marines?"

"Uncle Sugar paid off all my student debt. All they asked in return was for me to be a really bad human target for a few years. They were kind enough to pay for my Master's to boot."

"Thank you. I'll bet that dissertation is a real barn burner.
I'm 26 by the way and my first major was in Child Psychology. I was two years in before it really dawned on me that I was facing a lifetime of being a cog – a very small cog, in a vast, and uncaring bureaucracy or starving to death in private practice. So, I brilliantly changed my major to Industrial Design."

"I agree. That was truly brilliant. Not a lot of women in that field, if I recall correctly. So, pretty bad then?"

"My drawings were good enough I was offered a full ride scholarship at Cal Poly."

"Kudos. Why did you bail?"

"I'm sorry . How's that?"

"Simple logic. You were in California, and obviously not a player. Despite a killer figure and obvious...talents. You're now here as a small-town cub reporter trying to change the world. Someone pressed to test and you like as not handed them their ass. I'm assuming here the industrial design comes from working on a farm or ranch, and thus, you have the ability to sort out, rather quickly, anyone stupid to try and paw you... Was he a postgrad or a Professor?"

I could feel her stare.

"I'm not clairvoyant. I just happen to know a lot of stupid men, many college educated."

She harrumphed a couple of time before admitting, "They published my dissertation at no cost to me as part of the court settlement. I also agreed to not publish anything about...him."

I had to lay out on my back to catch my breath, I was laughing so hard. She leaned over, arms on her knees, string down at me...

"Would you care to share the joke with me, my man?"

"You as a legit reporter. Oh my God. What a world-class troll. Epic! Do you send copies of your stories to the alumni association?"

She started laughing. "Guilty as charged. I understand you can hear them squirm all the way down to Oxnard..."

After disposing of my mess, putting the tools back in their proper location and double checking the wheel lugnuts were good and tight, I asked, "Where for lunch?"

She paused, giving me a very long look that I hadn't seen in some time. "How about my place? Private enough to chat without worry some local gossip would get an earful."

"Umm, huh. And speaking of local gossips, how will that look, to have a man at your place and in the middle of the day to boot? I would think the gossips would have a field day."

She laughed. "They would be wondering how we will pick out the names for our grandchildren. I was born and raised here, believe me, I know how this all works..."

"Okay by me, I'll be gone in a week or so, you'll have to live with the fallout."

"And when I don't have a baby bump to show off, that will be the end of it. I can take care of myself against the local biddies. Been doing it for years."

"Fine by me. I'll follow you to your place.."

It was a short trip; Middleton is just small. The place was nice, sitting back from the road and with some shade trees on the South side of the building.

She pulled up and waved at me to pull in, up to the garage. Once I had shut off the engine, she walked over to say, "You still need to do the other side of your van, yes?" At my nod, she added, "Good, we can do that after lunch."

With that she turned and unlocked the solid wood door, before opening it wide and gesturing for me to enter. Inside, the light was subdued, curtains blocking most of the sun that made it past the trees outside.

Dropping her rather substantial purse into the couch, she asked, "What do you want for lunch?"

"What's on the menu?" No sense asking for something she lacked ingredients to make.

That netted another very long look, then a smile.

"Pancakes are out. I can do Belgian waffles, French toast, peaches and heavy cream. The peaches are fresh in from Santaquin."

I was so tickled I didn't get the expected 'Coffee, tea or me' that I had expected. "Peaches sounds great, any iced tea?"

"Black or green?"

Before I could reply, she added, pointing to "Get over here and stick your hands out..."

After I did just that, she sprayed some soap from a pump bottle and directed me to start scrubbing... While occupied with this task, she removed three peaches form the fridge and proceeded to cutting them up on a small plastic board that had been hidden inside the countertop.

"Okay, you should be good, go ahead and rise..."

I held up my now very messy hands and replied with "I don't want to make a mess of the faucet." I was hoping for a close encounter as she reached for the taps.

"Look at your feet." She paused for a second, "The left side pedal is cold water, the right side hot – and I mean real hot. Press them both and wait for the green light on the faucet, you have 100-degree water..."

This was a surprise, and the first time I had ever seen such a setup. But, just as she'd said, the water was perfect to rinse off the soapy mess on my hands.

"Towels are in the middle drawer, just hit it with your knee to open."

This worked as advertised and as I was wiping my hands and arms dry, she filled up a small teapot. This she sat onto another section of the counter, before touching something out of my sight.

"Have a seat, I'll be done in the jiff..."

As I sat at the table parked in a small nook off to the side of the kitchen, I took in the total look of the place. The 'atomic clock' hanging on the wall was a real classic from the 50's. The table and chairs looked to be the same vintage, heavily chromed pipe frames with nicely padded seats and backs.

"Nice table and chairs. Did you find these locally?"

"Nope. Assembled them myself. Manufacturer sent me the lot to assemble and vet the instructions as printed. Preproduction flat-pack prototype for the set. The table is solid oak, but stained for the color." A second later, she added, "Put the chairs back to back..."

When I did that, I could see one was a bit smaller than the other. Then it hit me, "These come two to a box to save on shipping?"

"Actually, it can be up to four to a box. Nice, yes?"

"Four?" I couldn't see how that would work...

"It's all in the packing." She sat two bowls on the table, "Been a best seller for a couple of years now."

After staring at my bowl of peaches, I had to ask, "How did you get picked for the vetting...all the way out here?"

She laughed as she poured the hot water into a carafe', dropping in some teabags. She then put a set of glasses filled with ice cubes on the table. The carafe' came next. She finally sat down across from me.

"I did the assembly to QC their work. Since it's my design, they wanted to know about any glitches before they went into full production. Who better than the designer for that bit, eh?"

The second I spoke, I knew it would sound either stupid or at worse, condescending. "You did this?"

"No, silly. I designed this, did the basic engineering drawings and helped with the production layout. The factory built this... Now, eat your peaches before they get to warm."

I finished my lunch in complete silence. I carried my own service, dropping the dishes into the sink. Then I went back to sit again, with Tiffany watching every move.

I looked directly at her before saying,. "Sorry. I must sound like quite the..."

"Lunkhead. I think is the term you would be looking to use here. Cut yourself some slack, how many industrial designers do you know?"

"Well, including you. One."

She laughed for a good long time. A she laughed, I could feel a loneliness growing inside. An emotion I'd I had banished tears ago.

"Moses, don't look so glum. I came up with the faucet setup for a design contest run by the maker. That got me the auto you see outside. With the contest win, came other offers. I found one that had terms I could live with. The kitchen was my next big project. The maker liked the whole, 'Designed by a woman for women' tag. I get a fractional cut from each sale. My house is paid for..." She wrinkled her nose before adding, "Of course, back a few years, before all the out of towners showed up, things were a lot cheaper."

I had the grace to actually blush. Her next question floored me.

"I hate to ask this, Moses. But are you... Ahhh, not interested in women?"

I stared at her for an eternity. "What?"

"I asked if you were interested in women. It's cool if you aren't - I get it.."

I honestly did not know how to answer this; I'd never been asked such a question, so boldly, in my entire life. The hell?
I settled for "Why do you ask?"

She closed her eyes. "I ask because we have been together for a couple of hours, counting the parking lot... You are the first man I've run across since I was a junior in high school that didn't desperately try to crawl into my pants within the first three minutes of meeting me. That or run away screaming. That's why. Sorry if you find that offensive... Everybody has their own lifestyle choices these days..."

How to answer would require some thought. I gain a bit of time; I cleaned up her meal things before returning to the table.

"First, I'm not offended..." Her face just fell with that bit. Which said volumes all by itself.

"Although I'm not used to such...direct questions. I do like woman. I was married once, a few years back. As for not slobbering all over you, I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman. A gentleman takes his time to develop something of a relationship before anything physical might start. Old fashioned, perhaps, but that's my worldview."

I waited a full minute before adding, "Does that help? You are a stunning beauty, and have a very sharp mind to boot, if perhaps to some, you are a bit...indelicate. If you're really asking if I'm interested in you, my answer is....it depends."

Here I stood to avoid what could become an awkward moment. "I need to get the rest of my bus maintenance done for the sun goes down. Care to join me?"

To my delight, she sat cross legged next to me, seemingly content to hand me tools and make idle chatter over nothing. As I finished up cleaning my tools and squaring away the bus, she asked innocently enough, "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I do, actually. I was going to run out to the Stateline and check out the cave system. I hear it is quite the visit. It will also serve as a check run on my maintenance just performed to ensure my ride to Alaska is trouble free."

She shyly asked, "Care for some company?"

"What exactly did you have in mind? It's not lost on me this is a camper bus.."

"Oh, you'll be safe from me. I'm quite the good girl..."

"Are you serious about going? If so, cut the crap. It's not something I need right now, okay?"

Now contrite, she simply said, "Yes. I'm serious. Normally the school system makes a field trip out to the caves as an end of school year treat for the junior class. I missed that year, because I had a shift to pull. Sorry."

"Fine. I'm eating breakfast at 7 AM, mostly because I promised Sonya I would be there. You can join me at the café, okay?"

She reached out to touch my arm. "That would be...perfect. I'll see you there." Her "Thank you," came out as a whisper.

Back at the cabin, I took a very long and very cold shower. This thing with Tiffany was something so new I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But – tomorrow might give me a better idea of what was going on inside her noggin...

We both sat in silence until I pulled into the parking lot for the caves. I paid the entry fee and we were lucky enough to catch a tour that was just starting. After entering the cave via a double door airlock, I was able to forget everything else and just enjoy the beauty provided by Nature. At one point, the guide shut off the lights to show us what total darkness was in reality. That was then Tiffany slipped her hand into mine and gave it a bit of a squeeze. It had been far too long...
A few minutes after we started back to Middleton, Tiffany spoke up, "My turn. My real last name is Stroud." After a pause, she went on, "As in the Middleton Stroud's, that is." Looking at me, she said, "I wouldn't expect you to know. It's a Founding Family thing and the reason most everyone has moved to Salt Lake City. When the big Ag types started moving in, Dad sold almost all of our land but kept his water rights, those rights he leases out. He's made real bank. That's why I could afford to go to college."

As if running out of steam, she went silent. That was fine, it was a long drive back, she would say what she wanted, when she wanted.

The sudden outburst was startling. "When I got back to town, too many treated me like a local version of a Disney Princess. You know?"

I had to laugh. "All your problems will go away if only a big strong man comes into your life?"

"You do understand!"

"No, I don't understand. That whole thing is so out of my experience – the meddling, the unwanted advice, the pressure. I have no real clue of what you've had to put up with." I looked over at her, "Honestly. It's just a meme for me, you had to put up with the ****..."

"You, Sir, understand more than most. One of the Bubba's that got shoveled at me took it to mind I was his woman... We never even had a single date. Just an introduction at a friend's party. That's it. See?"

"I can guess scary as hell...stalking, lots of phone calls, emails and the toad showing up in front of your house, at all hours, maybe at night?"

When I glanced over, she was staring at me so intently it was...frightening.

"What did you do to stop it? You're here, so I know you didn't shoot the bastard..."

"Almost did. The Sherriff wouldn't do anything. To be fair, he was up to his ass in alligators. I filed for a protective order. Denied. So, I went over to Fillmore and bought a Government Model 45, and six boxes of ammo. Then I forced my cousin, a former spec ops guy, to show me how to properly shoot. It may have leaked out that if this jerk showed up again, I would be ready..."

I was laughing so hard, I almost had to pull over to stay in control.

"And so your place on the crazy-hot curve was set forever. Sorry I laughed; it's most certainly not funny. Still, I got to admit, a classic fix to an ugly problem."

"Yeah, well, maybe too good a fix. Now anyone that might be the least interesting runs away like I'm a..."

"Madwoman with a big-assed gat." That stopped me cold. Another thought had just occurred to me."

Rather than say what had just hit me, I said, "I need to take a detour here in a bit. That a problem?"

"So long as that detour isn't to the local hot springs to go skinny dipping, detour away..."

I just tapped the screen on my phone. The GPS lady came to life advising me I had five miles to my turn...
The sign front of the office trailer pronounced that we had arrived at "The Rock Shop". I didn't say anything to my passenger, she could follow if she wanted to or not. Either way, it didn't matter to me.

Walking up the front desk, I said, "Hi. I'm Mr. Canyon, I called late yesterday?"

The kid behind the desk gave me the once over before speaking into a microphone next to her terminal. "Otto, your scrap guy is here." Looking back at me, she said, "Outside, to the right you'll see an open shed. Otto will meet you there."

Then turning back to her terminal, I saw that I was completely dismissed. With nothing more than that, I went back out and headed for the open shed in the distance. I heard the door on the bus slam, so assumed Tiffany would be following along shortly.

I was met before I reached the shed by a short man; one wearing overalls, dusty workbooks and with a pair of heavy gloves sticking out of a back pocket. This just had to be Otto...

Sticking out his hand, the man shook mine saying, "Follow me, I'm sure I got what you're looking for..."

We trekked around a long line of side-stacked rock slabs, and then over to the fence line where a large stack of obvious work scraps was piled.
Pointing, Otto said, "This batch is pink granite, mostly polished on one side – the other is some really nice blue granite, but it costs a lot more per pound."

Pointing to another stack further down the fence line, "That's the black granite and most of it isn't polished or even ground true. The rock is cheaper, the work is more expensive. You got an idea of what you want to have engraved...?"

I fished out my phone and brought up what I had written last night. Handing the phone to him, I waited for his feedback. His opinion as the expert was what I had come to get prior to making a buy.

Looking up from the screen, he asked, "How long is the name?"

"They are all the same. Ten characters, to include the spaces."

He nodded and I could see him counting with one hand, lips moving. This went on for several minutes, by then Tiffany had arrived and unbidden, taken my hand.

Otto finally spoke. "Okay. Two lines, no less than 18 pitch, maybe a bit bigger when I see what you have picked out. Anything you pick has to be at least four by six inches, and you can go eight by ten to keep the same perspective. Rock costs by the pound, I have to have that. I'll do the engraving at cost..."

I stuck out my hand, "Deal! Where to I bring my picks?"

"Just drop then at the front of the shed. You'll see a large blue tub full of sealant. Just drop 'em in there. I'll weigh 'em and get the final cost to your email for approval. I can start engraving tomorrow morning. Is that fast enough?"

"You have my approval right now. I'll pick a couple of spare pieces, in case something turns out bad, like a hidden crack or that."

He nodded in agreement, shook my hand, handed me a tape measure and with no more than that, walked back toward the office.

In the ensuing silence, Tiffany spoke, "Okay, big boy. What's this all about?"

I handed her my phone and walked over to the pile of blue rock. I had found my first piece when she joined me. It looked like I could go eight by ten with the number of polished pieces showing.
It took more than two hours before we dropped the dozen slabs in the soaking tub. Both of us were also very dusty, hot and sweaty. Stopping by the office to check out took just a moment, and then we climbed into the bus. Tiffany waited until we were back on the highway and at speed before she spoke.

"Nothing for Baby Jane? That doesn't seem..."

"I have a request in for a quote over at the foundry in Toole. I'm asking for a bronze plaque. I should get that quote by tomorrow. You were saying?"

"I was saying it's not too late to turn around for a dip in the hot springs..."

"Sorry, kiddo. As tempting as that is right now, I've got to get back, shower, shave and made myself presentable for the county Board meeting tonight. I appreciate the offer, but maybe a rain check?"

"Better yet – how about dinner after the meeting? I've got some wicked good shrimp in the freezer."

"After the meeting?"

She laughed, "I cover all the Board meetings because, so few actually bother to show up. Open meeting laws don't mean squat if nobody is there to keep their feet to the fire."

"Shrimp, eh? What else is on the menu?"

"We can decide that after the meeting, eh?"

"I guess we can at that..."

As I pulled up to Tiffany's home, she glanced at her watch, then said, "Moses, it only just past three. Why don't you come in for some iced tea?"

"Well, that sounds very much like a trap... What's your motive?"

After she stopped laughing, she replied, "To help you, you big galoot. The Board really lacks an imagination, and that's not a bad thing in a small town politico. I'm assuming you are going to request permission for placing the new markers... I'm thinking some simple graphics would help..."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "Not an issue. In chatting with Doc McCarthy yesterday, that came up. Bottom line, I've already sold the markers to the County Coroner for a penny each, as a 'durable replacement item' under the current no-bid rules in place." I added a smile. "They have exactly squat to say about it. I have the receipt for sale and everything, should they fuss."

"Okay then, why?" She seemed genuinely puzzled.

"It's about dirt."

"Dirt?"

"Well, the lack of ground cover. The burial field is sprayed twice a year for weeds and gets no watering. This in an effort to stop weeds to begin with. I honestly get that part. The side effect is that the place is utterly devoid of any sense of nature – completely dehumanizing, as if the people there just don't matter, but are just a step above trash. I'm going to suggest seeding the area with dwarf while clover. The kind I going to pitch for the clover rarely grows over two inches tall, fixes nitrogen, thus no fertilizer is ever needed, and the stuff is crazy drought resistant. All of this will save the Country some dough, which is my main selling point. No spraying, no mowing. I'll even pay for the seed, its stupid cheap."

"I'll have to say, Moses, I'm impressed. Do you always think this far ahead?"

I had to shake my head. "Where I can do that, I do. Call it my logistics Jones from my days with the Corps. If I can't plan ahead, I can at least hope what I carry with me can cover a problem. Since the field isn't going to move, it makes that part simple."

"Okay. But I still think a simple graphic would help them see what you are shooting for. Change comes slowly, if at all, here once a thing or process has been around this long... The upset apple cart meme."

"Since you put it that way, and I am thirsty." I opened the door and finished with, "Let's see what you have in mind..."
Once seated inside, Tiffany put two glassed filled with ice on the table. The little teapot she sat on the stove, then said, "Give a few minutes while the water boils, then we can get started..."

With that she headed off deeper into her home and the sound of running water quickly filled the room. Just as the teapot started to whistle, Tiffany ran back in to shut off the stove and pop a few teabags int the steaming pot.

She had obviously changed; she was wear a hot pink...set of sweats? She was wearing something other that what she left the room in- that much was obvious. She wordlessly moved past me to the wall, depressed a section and reach into a now exposed cubby to remove several items.

When these were placed on the table, it appeared to be a laptop and a small pad of some kind, bracketed by a trackball and a conventional mouse. She poured the tea into our glasses, with the ice cracking loudly in the silence filling the room.
She settled into the seat opposite of mane and said, "Thanks. I just had to rinse off. I'll take a proper bath after you leave." After typing rapidly, she started a stream of one-way conversation.

"Okay. The Google Earth overhead view is pretty recent. So, I cut and paste... Then we find you clover.." Here she looked up. "Got a name or brand or something I can use..?"

I pulled out my phone, tapped it a couple of time, then passed it over to her.

"Ah! Got it. Now to find some kind of large area photo..."

While she pursued her digital quarry, I just sat and sipped my tea, fascinated to see her at hard at work. The ponytail flayed as she snapped her head around from side to side, fingers flying. Finally she looked up.

"Here, I've made a composite for the field on a before and after basis. Not perfect, but should give them a clue..."
She turned the screen to face me. "Your thoughts, Sir?"

I could only shrug. "Looks about right, as should work..."

Turning the screen back to face her, she started at the image.

"You know, this needs something more. An attractant. Some reason for folks to visit, which I'm thinking is your real reason for the ground cover. Yes?"

"You don't miss much, I'll give you that. If you have any ideas, let'er rip. I'm clueless here. Not being familiar with what might work in Middleton, I decided on safe..."

In reply she just sat and started at the screen, brow furrowed in concentration.

Her head snapped up to look at me, "Got it. Flower pots!"

"That's going to be a tough sale. No pots or growing flowers are allowed in the public cemetery now. They can get out of control, look like hell when wilted and can be a real mess to clean up. Not to mention the issue of possible vandalism, sad to say. Make those out of terra cotta or wood and you are just asking for trouble."

She nodded, staying silent. Her mind was obviously going a million miles an hour.

"Uuuum. Okay. How about Art that can hold some wildflowers. Local ones. Here, look at this.."

I moved over to sit next to her as she used the trackball to draw out a flying saucer, or that least half of one."

"Here's a classic bowl shape, and now the same under for a support." She clicked and spun the trackball... "The we put scallops into the support base, to give the illusion of legs, add some side braces...: The halves will be joined in the middle with a bolt and welding, with small openings around the perimeter to allow rainwater to quickly drain, smaller holes on the bottom will allow real drainage. The side supports will be welded and mostly decoration, but still providing some bracing."

"The vandalism part?"

"These will be made of nickeled stainless steel, the bases can really be a three quarter round, so burial will make them stable, but they can roll over of pushed hard enough. If that happens, anyone with a shovel can put them right fairly quickly. Instead of flowers, you could use annual succulents; some have flowers, small enough to stay inside of the bowl..."

She turned to look at me. "Something wrong with any of this?"

Stammering, I could only spit out, "You came up with all of this - off the top of your head?"

"Well, yes. The college used to hold snap design competitions. They had both group and singleton contests. I hated the group stuff, you always had people trying to take credit for your ideas. The singleton contests you sank or swam on your own. I did pretty well for myself; the prize money came in handy for drawing supplies."

"Damn. I'm impressed. How about costs? I'll foot the bill for this, just how, where and how much?"

"You'll need three for symmetry. I've got a guy in Spanish Fork, used him a couple of times for my welded stuff. Stainless is tricky and has to be done just right. I'll get a quote by tomorrow."

She turned back to the laptop and typed rapidly again, I wen t back to my seat to finish off the tea. Tiffany had talents I had no clue about. No wonder the folks at Cal Poly had offered her a full ride scholarship...

"I'll add these to your graphic. For ongoing plant maintenance, the local garden club may be interested. I know a few of the ladies... I'm willing to bet someone will step up."

"I see. I can pitch it as an offer. If the local club buys in, the County gets an Memorandum of Understanding, listing the will and won't. This protects both sides. The Boards buys off on the final MOU, then we can build the flowerpots..."
After bit more thought, I threw in, "I'll go ahead and offer a performance bond. I'd say five grand would cover things. If the Art turns sour or the club abandons the project, the bond will pay for removal and disposal, no cost to the County. Term of coverage would be...three years."

At this, I got a funny look from Tiffany. "Moses, are you sure you can afford all of this?"

"Yup. The Buster Canyon Memorial Foundation has covered other projects like this. I control the Foundation; Bruce does the audits and keeps the IRS happy and off our back. The Five Oh One cee Four rules we chartered the Foundation under require we disperse a certain percentage of the fund yearly, aggregated over five years. So, I'm good for the tab. Anything else?"

"Maybe get back to your cabin and shower? The Board meeting is in just over an hour. I'll meet you there. Time flies when fun is at hand...yes?"

I didn't answer as the door shut behind me by the time she finished speaking.

After the Board meeting, I waited for Tiffany in the parking lot. She insisted we enter separate and leave separately as well. I could only surmise this was owing to her having some history with the Board members and she didn't want that to impact on the presentation. I found this to be humorous as in this small a town, everybody likely knew we were working together on something.

I had been able to keep my presentation short and to the point. To my great surprise, the Board approved the addition of the clover to the 'cemetery annex' and they seemed willing to wait for another meeting to see about the Art pieces. The new marker stones weren't even mentioned.

I was leaning against the front of the bus, looking at my phone for any messages from a friend Anchor Point. I'd asked for a cost to hydro-axe the area around my cabin before I got back into the area. It was just one of a number of things I needed to get started if I was going to be able to have any time for the run of King salmon that usually ran in late June.

Tiffany walked up to me, accompanied by two women. Both seemed to be much older than her. Before I could open my mouth, she jumped right in...

"Moses, this is Jen, my Aunt and her friend, Mrs. Colby. They are part of the local gardening community council. They have a question for you ..."

"Ladies, my pleasure. How may I be of help?"

Mrs. Colby spoke first, "Young man, I was quite impressed with your pitch to the Board. We've been trying, for years, to get the old goats to approve something, anything, for that horribly barren area... The idea to use clover had never occurred to any of us."

I could only say, "You are most kind, Ma'am. I can't take much credit, as I've seen it used in other parks with great success. That this subspecies is so drought resistant, it only made sense to suggest it for use."

Jen added, "I wonder if you have some free time day after tomorrow? We will be having our monthly lunch discussion and I think the rest of the council would love to hear about what you seem to have planned for the Potter's Field area. It has been an issue with us for some time, as it just looks so...shabby."

I looked at Tiffany, and she just mouthed, "Please..."

"I would be pleased to share my ideas of what might be possible for the annex. Can you give me the details?"

After the pair had left, I looked at Tiffany. "Okay, give...my plans? Three flowerpots is not a plan."

"How about we go over than while we have dinner? I walked over to here, so if you don't mind?"

We sat in the bus, silent as the little bit a traffic cleared out of the parking lot. I had to wonder what brand of sunshine she'd blown up their skits prior to the Board meeting. That the sunshine involved me, I had no doubt.
*
After shutting the door, Tiffany pointed to her divan and said, "The shrimp is thawed, have you thought about what you wanted to go with?"

"Hard to say, I don't know what you have on hand... I can say, no pancakes..." I waited for her laughter to slow down before continuing, "No wine." Here, I paused for effect, "I don't drink, period."

"Noted, Moses. Nor do I. How about some garlic toast and something green? The neighbors have a greenhouse, so I do have some fresh asparagus. I'll sauté them in real butter..."

"Sold. What can I do to help?"

She smiled. "Get comfortable, take off your shoes and tell me a story." She paused for a second, then added, "Or tell me why you did what you did out there when you found Baby Jane..."

While a bit of a surprise, the question wasn't completely unexpected. I was surprised some total stranger hadn't braced me about that in the last couple of days. On the other hand, my reasons were my own and nobody needed to hear them.

"In that case, you get a story. Not even a war story. I've put in multiple grant applications to perform a new type of survey of a known and in work archeological site, preferably Neolithic A or earlier. One that hasn't been fully developed to date. I 'm trying to target Pre-Pottery Neolithic A sites; hopefully one with some signs of agriculture."

She laughed again, it was like a waterfall of sound. "Translated into English that I understand?"

"Fair enough. Someplace with stone tools, an established site, not a camp. A place where ovens to make pottery haven't been discovered or have been ruled out."

"How old would that be, in round numbers?"

"Between 10,000 and 12,000 years ago."

She turned and stared at me for a few seconds. "That old? Is there anything left to look at?"

I had to chuckle. "Plenty. In fact, up by Salt Lake City, these is Hogup Cave, an active site." I held up my hand, "Before you get any ideas, cave sites won't work for what I want to do?

She sat a pot of water on what I now assumed to be a stove and tapped the countertop a couple of times. That she walked over and sat right next to me.
"So, what do you want to do?"

I was ready for this one. "Drone based aerial photogrammetric surveys to map out potential water sources, grain fields and all the other things that can make a site the location of a permanent or long seasonal habitat. Then use that as shot for a doctoral thesis. Once I land the grant, I suspect that University will entertain the drone based survey idea to form the basis of adding to the current toolset."

She nodded slowly. She then cautiously asked, "Do you need the funding?"

I had to chuckle. "No. The grant is to get my foot in the door with the University working a site. Academia is the ultimate NIMBY or not invented here mindset. Too many big egos, all trying to protect their turf and funding. It's sadly, quite the racket in too many places."

'I see, Moses. How about, the rest of the story?"

"The rest?"

"I have had just a few hours with you, but I can tell you that your lack of love of Academia is not the reason for your...quest. I'm pretty sure that a desire to add P,H and D after your name is the last reason you are chasing this..."

She had me there. "You win. The military has incredible amounts of drone footage, all geoindexed to within a few inches, of places no scientist has been or is likely to visit in the near future. I can only hope to be able to leverage that data into something useful for future archeologists. Old CORONA spy sat images have yielded some surprising finds and that data was rudimentary, at best."

With that, she kissed my cheek and said, "How toasty do you like your toast?"

I could only sit dumbfounded while she finished prepping our dinner and dished it out onto the table. We ate mostly in silence, a comfortable silence, where one needn't say a thing to enjoy the company one is with at the moment. With dinner finished, and the hidden dishwasher loaded, she took me by the hand and we sat back down on the divan.

"First, Tiffany, that was a super meal. Thank you. Second, now will you answer my question about the 'plans' bit with the nice flower ladies?"

She looked up at the overhead, clearly gathering her thoughts. It didn't help me when she put her hand on my leg and gave it a squeeze.

"My friend in Spanish Fork sent a reply and a counterproposal for the flowerpots. His proposal is a bit more...involved and is going to be a lot more expensive. That's why I really, really wanted you to be at the flower luncheon. "

I didn't want to feel used, but that feeling was starting to creep into the back of my mind, and that would be a shame. Every time in the last five years anybody got wind of the money I could access, things had gone to **** in a hand basket. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed living in near Bush Alaska. No people to bother you, if you didn't want to be bothered...

I didn't want to sigh, not really. Instead, I just said, "Lay it out. Sell me first."

In reply, she went back to the wall cubby and pulled out what seemed to be a large tablet. Once functioning, she tapped the face of the tablet until an image appeared. She turned to me and held it up.

"Atreus thought the flower pots didn't have enough vertical development, and so he sent this to me. This would sit between the cemetery proper and the annex. Serving to link them together, a common focal point."

She tapped the screen again, "The flowerpots could then serve to define the Annex area. The clover, if we can talk the Board into it, would flow between the two and at the end, we would have a complete space. One where everyone would be, hopefully, comforted."

She placed the tablet into my outstretched hand. The proposed change was another Art piece. From the drawing, it looked to be between six to eight feet tall. As drawn, it was structure of six legs, with a series of bowls winding around the legs until the top, where the legs terminated with a figure. Each bowl was smaller than the one below and by the time the string ended, the last bowl as about hand-sized. The figure was fuzzy in the drawing, as if the artist was unsure of what might be acceptable. I assumed to bowls would hold more of the succulents.

It was striking, it was unique and it was something I saw as completely unneeded. To be fair to both Tiffany and her friend, I leaned back in the divan and just stared at the drawing. I closed my eyes and tried to see how it might fit. Having never been to the site, I was finding it almost impossible to see how this would work.

"Let's go for a drive. I've not been to the site, so I want to see where you think this should be placed."
The sun was just a hand's width above the horizon when we arrived. Tiffany had me stand at the front of the bus in what seemed to pass for a parking area, a gravel lot. She then walked over to a place that made some sense to her and held up both arms, full length, legs just a bit more than shoulder width.

"Right about here. It will be this tall, more or less, depending on the figure. No lights, but made out of the same stainless, so a bit shiny, a dull shine, in the direct sunlight." As she spoke, she slowly turned, as if to make a point. When she waved me over, I joined her.

"Now. Stand right here for a bit." She walked away, stopped about 25 to 30 feet away. "The first flower pot goes here." This was repeated twice more, then she returned to my side.

Pointing, she said, "you can see the rest of the regular cemetery there. The fence is the far end of the property set aside for cemetery use." Turning, she pointed back the other direction. "The fence line there is the other end. The Potter's Field section was started back in 1910, I think. A traveler died in a railroad accident and nobody claimed the remains. The town put the body here, assuming someone would be along to claim them. Here we are."

I nodded. "My turn. The rest of the story?"

She looked at the ground. "The other, taller, hexapod would go into the city center park. That one would hold wildflowers." She stopped talking.

"Go on. This just didn't come out of the blue." I worked to keep my tone level.

Feeling used wasn't new to me, but it also was not recent.

She took my hand and said, "Let's go to the res... We'll talk there."

With her directions, we wound up at a reservoir, a fairly large one. One that I had to assume fed the irrigation system. By now, the sun had set, the moon was well up and that moonlight shimmered off the surface of the water.

I shut down the engine then turned to the woman sitting next to me. "Alright, Tiffany, here is where you explain how you aren't using me for something..."

Her reply was soft, almost inaudible, "Using you?"

"Yes. Using me. I've an open mind, but this last bit is... Well, you tell me."

She sat silent, for a very long time. I wasn't going anywhere and my seat was comfortable enough to sit in all night, if needed. I'd done just that more than once.

She finally spoke. "I guess you can say I'm using you, like a lever or maybe even...dynamite. Can you recall the words used by Mrs. Colby? About trying to get approval from the board?"

"My memory is intact. Yes, I remember. The operative word I think you are making your point over is 'years', yes?"

"Almost, Moses. The word I'm reaching for is 'change'. I warned you that between inertia and so-called history, change is rare. Better put, damn near impossible. Yet in a matter of a couple of days, you 've caused changes that some of us have tried forever to make. I want to ride that momentum. I saw the Art pieces in the Annex as an opening for something new at the park. That's all."

This last bit came out as a whisper.

"Okay, Tiffany. I'll cede your point. On the other hand, I need to you consider something else. Something so obvious, that it may have escaped you in the moment."

She looked at me with a tear-streaked face. "What" was all she said.

"Three years ago, I might...might have agreed. But with all the new construction, all the new strangers in town, the troubles and everything else that have some and have yet to come with the new solar plants has been an earthquake to the underpinnings of the town and the social norms developed over the last decades."

Now, I set my voice to be a bit harsh. "The most I'll do for these new hexapods is to introduce them to the flower club and ask if they would raise the funds to build and maintain them. I'll still fund the original flowerpots as I see that as a real plus to the whole cemetery vibe."

I reached over an put my hand under chin and force her to look directly at me.

"You and your two friends will have to carry the weight on the rest."

I dropped her off in front of her house and returned to my cabin. I didn't know if I should be angry, just used or if it would be even sane to continue with this infuriating woman...
The next morning found me at the outdoor patio of the café, sitting in my now usual chair. I'd slept badly, with visions of Nancy and Buster's funeral's playing over and over in my head.

The cup of coffee landing in front of me snapped me back to the here and now. A familiar voice said, "I'll be right back."

Soon enough Sonya reappeared with my pancakes and honey. Only today she was wearing a brightly colored blouse and form fitting slacks. Adding to my surprise, she sat down across from me.

"Yesterday was my last day here. School starts soon and it was a split paycheck, tax thing my boss tells me. Besides, I'd like to talk with you for a minute, if that's okay?"

I just nodded. This was going to be at least as interesting as last night, or as bad.

"Look, I want to apologize. My question the other day was a bit out of line. Tiffany has her own look out, I have mine."

She leaned forward, with an intensity I'd yet to see.
"Oh, crap. Here it comes," I thought.

"Just so you know Mr. Moses, Tiff is bat-**** crazy about you. I don't know how you did that, but all mom could talk about last night was you and Tiff, as a couple. She's never talked about my cousin like that, ever."

She leaned back before continuing, "Also, and you might know this, everybody in town thinks you are all that and a bag of chips, because of the Baby Jane thing.. Here, she really smiled, "I think you're just the sweetest man I've met. I think you'll be a great addition to the family."

To my credit, I didn't choke on my mouthful of pancakes, but it was a near thing.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I asked, "Going back to school?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I lucked out and got a calculus class to go with my organic chem class set. If I get lucky next semester, I'll have all the grunt classes out of the way for my degree at State next year."

Sipping my coffee gave me a minute to try and digest all this she just dumped in my lap.

"But, you're still in high school, right?"

"Yes. The college and the school district cut a deal a few years back, instead of offering Advanced Placement classes, they just offered the college course instead. They're all distance learning anyway, and we get credit against a degree, if we pay a registration fee per credit hour."

"Let me guess, your tips have covered everything to date?"

"Yeah. I'm going to need to take out a loan or something for the actual degree work at the U. Mom and Dad don't have that kind of dough..."

I just nodded. "Had any luck with scholarships or grants?"

"Right now, no. Pell Grants are out – I have both parents and don't fit their demographic model." She looked up, "That is to say, dirt poor. We're just average both parents working poor."
I could only answer, "I see. What major are you chasing?"

"Agronomy, with a minor of Ag Business. Nobody wants to fund farmers these days. It's all about STEM." She shrugged, "I've got an outfit online that claims they can help with finding funding. I'm waiting to hear back if they're legit or a scam."

"Smart move. Too many folks out there looking to fleece new students."

"Yeah. Look, I need to go, but I have a request."

"That is...?" I couldn't help but to anticipate a cringe in my near future.
"Please have the wedding here and not Alaska. I don't think I could afford to go that far for her wedding..."
No matter how I answered, I was screwed. "That's getting way far ahead of things, Sonya. We'll just to see how things play out. Okay?"

"Good enough, Mr. Moses. Thanks for your time. I gotta go and the cook says this one is on the house...."

With nothing more than that, she walked away; humming what I supposed was supposed to be a happy tune.
*

The drive back out to The Rock Shop might have been a time for some quiet introspection of the events last night. Due to my lack of sleep, it was a struggle to stay awake. Happy to say, long practice and an empty road allowed me to arrive alive.

Entering the trailer based office presented me with the scene of both Otto and an older woman, huddled over the terminal screen. Rather than say anything, I took a seat on the somewhat battered couch against the wall and waited to be recognized. It only took my leaning back and resting my head on the wall to zone out.

Reality snapped back when a hand lightly touched my arm with a voice saying, "Mr. Moses! Are you a doctor needing now?"

Otto was hovering nearby, a very concerned look playing across his face. I shook my head and leaned forward.

"Sorry, Otto. I just had a bad night is all. Didn't get a lot of sleep. Are you free now?"

"Um gesund zu sein, braucht man Schlaf...You must rest. Are you here for your markers?"

,,"Yes. I saw your message this morning. I appreciate the fast work, and I'm willing to pay a premium, if that is a normal billing procedure for you."

"Nien, Mr. Moses. We work quickly on small projects. I have a new machine my son has found. It uses a jet from water to make the etching, very modern, ya?"

"New tech is the bobdiggity, no doubt. How much do I owe you for the lot?"

Otto walked back behind the desk and sat at the terminal. It took him a few minutes but he managed to prod the system into producing a printed invoice from the printer sitting on the shelf behind his seat. He wordlessly handed it to me. The numbers were plain and far less than he had quoted me over the phone just two days before.

I looked back at the older man and stated, "This isn't right. I am more than willing to pay a fair price, the one you gave me over the telephone was more than fair. Why the drop?"

That got me a big smile in return. "Gott weiß, wer sich um die Kleinen kümmert, und so werden ihnen Segen gegeben, ya? So, I wish the little ones to smile on me as well. You can share with me these smiles. Come, we go look."

I followed him outside and over to a smaller building, one that had no windows. Inside was a large machine and to one side, my little pieces of stone. Otto picked one up and handed it to me.

"This is as you desired, ya?"

The etching was...perfect. The depth allowed just enough shadow to make reading it easy...'Here rests Baby Doe 1, known only to Heaven above'
The second line, aligned with the first, read, 'Now home, they share the joy of reunion '. Around the edges was a light interlacing filigree with tiny flowers every few millimeters... I was stunned.

When I looked at Otto, he smiled again. "My son, he find a app, he calls it. To use for no charge to make the stone...with the flowers. Pretty, yes?"

"More than I could have hoped. This is...beautiful."

"So, you are happy, and now, I am happy. The little ones, now maybe, can rest a bit easier."

With no more than that he took the stone from me and placed it in a heavy cardboard sleeve, then added it to the other four sitting in a reinforced cardboard box. He walked back to the office, sitting the box outside, to one side. Once I had signed the credit card receipt, Otto added a one-off comment.

"You can tell Emil that I will have Lisel to bring the ground spikes and resin tomorrow to his office. This takes a few hours to harden and I wanted your approval before the spikes were added. Yes?"

I felt stupid. "Ahh. Emil?"

"Ya. Emil McCarthy, you know him. We have talked about you together."

The light bloomed, "Yes, of course...Emil. I will visit him next, in fact. Once again, Otto, I want to thank you for your generosity in this, it is quite remarkable."

"Maybe where you live, this is unusual. Here, it is the way it is today. Please drive with care. If you wish to nap, I have another couch in the back of the other office space..."

"No, but thank you just the same for the offer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go..."

He just waved as he took the seat behind the desk once more. I loaded the box into the side door of the bus and headed back toward Middleton. I had wanted to go right over to Tooele and check on the bronze piece, but it seemed I had a meeting with Doc McCarthy first...
Finding the Coroner's office was simple, now that I knew of the 'secret' location. On entering I was surprised to see Doc McCarthy waiting for me at the window. He held up a hand.

"You can drive around back to unload the markers; I'll meet you there."

True to his word, I found him standing next to a large roll-up door. It took just a minute to transfer the box of markers inside and he pointed to a door at the back of the space as he activated the door mechanism. Once back in his office, I took the proffered chair.

After I declined his offer of a cup of coffee, he sat back and sipped his for quite some time. I was happy to wait to see what he might say, as I assumed it would be instructional, as always.

"I have to say, Moses, you've cut quite the swath for as little a time as you've been in town. Tell me, to what do you owe your success?"

This was a puzzle, "You win Doc. What success?"

I had to wait for his laughter to slow, and then stop. This was going to be good – or so I could hope.

"You sell yourself short, Mr. Canyon. Half the town thinks you and Miss Stroud have been engaging in world-class bedroom gymnastics and judging by your looks, it has been a most energetic time together..." Holding up his hand, he went on, "All BS of course. I happen to know, for a fact, your little vixen is as straight-laced as a preacher on a Sunday morning. But, that won't stop the gossips. You two are the hottest topic in town, at least for now."

"I'll admit, Doc, that particular bit is the best I've heard in some time. Beats all the other crap thrown my way."

"Tell me, Brother. Anyway, gossips aside, what can I do for you?"

"Simple. Otto asked that I pass along that Lisel?... will bring you some kind of spike and the resin..." I shrugged, "I assume you know what this means."

"Ah! Excellent. The spikes are used to keep these little markers in place. We're not allowed to put them on proper concrete foundations as that might make later exhumation more difficult and thus, more expensive."

I just nodded. Frost heave was unlikely to be a problem, so something simple would work to keep thing tidy.

'Got it. When I was out there screening and pulling scrap, I picked a dozen pieces, all 8 by 10, Otto still has the rest of the lot. My thought was seeing these Baby Doe markers, someone local might step forward and pony up for another marker for one of the other folks buried there." Here, I could only shrug.

'Well, you've plucked someone's stings. The foundry over in Tooele called and asked me to pass along a message. Seems they managed to lose your contact data and would you please call them." He held out slip of paper.

I took it from his hand and tucked it into my shirt. It was nothing that couldn't wait for a few more minutes – plus waiting would give me a chance to cool off a bit.

"You seem to be plugged into the gossip loop, let me ask this... What's the deal with Tiffany and the kerfuffle in SoCal?"

He leaned back in the chair and took a long drink from his coffee. "First, what exactly did she tell you? Sorry to have to ask, but much of what we've discussed, Tiffany and I, is...confidential. You see?"

I had to blink a couple of times before replying with a stupid sounding, "Yes, of course." I took a minute before saying, "Now that I think about she told me exactly - nothing. I assumed this was from embarrassment. I also assumed that someone on staff or a post-grad tried to put a move on her and got thrashed for his stupidity." After a short pause, I added, "And perhaps I assumed too much?"

"Waaaay too much, Moses. Before I go on, tell me where you think this will go.."

"You win, what 'this' ?"

Doc laughed, and for a good while to boot.

"I'm not blind. Neither is anyone else in town. We all see how strongly you two are attracted to each other, that is as plain as the nose on your face- even if you two refuse to see it. I also know you have some...history and may not be ready to play the game again. That's what I'm really asking. Are you in the game or not?"

"For Finagle's sake, Doc, I've only just met the woman!"

"You've been together for most of the last two days, my question stands. If it helps, I met and married my wife after just a week. That was twenty years ago... So?"

"Your're a hard-nosed SOB..."

"Moses, stop dodging. I might be willing to share what I know, but first – I have to know how you see Miss Stroud."

He had me there.

"I honestly don't know. We had a falling out last night and have not talked yet today."

"At some risk of being indiscrete, care to share the topic of contention? You didn't try anything...did you ?"

"We argued over my thinking she is using me to pay for something she wants." I tried not to sound petulant, but failed, miserably.

Rather than say anything, he got up out of his chair and poured himself another large cup of coffee. This time he also opened a bottle fished from his desk drawer and poured a good sized shot in the coffee.

The cup was half empty when he said, "What I am about to tell you goes nowhere – ever. I want you word of honor, as a Marine Crops Officer, on this, Moses."

That demand for my word of honor was a slap in the face and a good indication that I may have utterly misjudged Tiffany.

I settled deeper into the chair and after a minute, I said, "I may live to regret this, but you have my word, on my honor as an Officer of the Corps, that what I hear now will never be divulged. Ever."

Doc just nodded. "Good enough then. I knew Tiffany before she left for college. Her mother and my wife ran in the same circle."

I just nodded an acknowledgement.

"When Tiff was a senior, a couple of the local...boys had trouble understanding that when she said she wasn't interested in what they were offering, that meant they should back off and leave her alone. After an ugly incident at a school dance, one of her cousins asked me to go with him as a backup – strictly in the shadows. He confronted them and strongly suggested if they continued in their stupidly, even a cadaver dog would not find all the pieces.

"If I were to guess, Doc, these dips weren't bright enough to take the hint?"

He snorted. "Three of them tried to take him down. One was in hospital for a week, at some point he'll be able to use his arm fully again. The other two were treated and released. I'll have to say, as a Ranger, he showed remarkable restraint. Happily, the cops wrote it off as a misunderstanding. Tiff didn't have any trouble for the rest of the year. Her first year at State was indecent free, halfway through her sophomore year, she picked up a stalker."

He took a long hit on his coffee, then started up again. "The cops got that sorted out and the," he mumbled here for a bit, "got deported back to wherever desert hellhole he crawled out of. Still, she got spooked enough to change majors."

Doc drained his coffee cup. "Switching to the design thing made a world of difference. She really blossomed and was good enough at her work that on graduation, she was offered a full ride scholarship at Cal Poly to work on a Master's."

I nodded. "She did mention that much. She also hinted she had some kind of problem there..."

Shaking his head, Doc replied with, "Yeah, she had a problem all right. As she was just ready to graduate, one of her professors invited her to a graduation party. He just didn't mention it was a party of two."

I had to cringe. "How bad?"

"Bad enough. She got the knife away from the guy and from talking with the ME over there, beat his ass - but good. But..."

"Oh, ****... a classic But..," I thought. "Go ahead, I'm sitting down."

"Yeah. The prof had never had a student turn him down, later investigation showed. I suppose he wanted to save face or something. He used his own knife on himself and called it in as a murder attempt."

"Holy sweet Jesus..."

"Yeah. Looked grim, for a bit. Her fingerprints were all over the damn knife..." He paused, as if considering another shot. "Dumbass managed to kill himself, waited too long before calling 911, I suppose. The ME was a bit fuzzy on that part, but the dolt had consumed a massive amount of alcohol."

"I know I wouldn't have heard anything about this in Alaska, but how did they cover it up?"

He snorted again. "Turns out, his old lady was suspicious of him and had a couple of nannycams hidden in the home. Two other coeds also outed the SOB during the investigation. She was cleared before it really hit the papers. The school quashed the rest and offered Tiff big money to go away and keep quiet."

"Ahh. Big money?" I knew this was going to hurt.

"Yes. Big, California big, big money."

"Oh, just... ****."

"You didn't know. Her folks know and they live out of town. I know, because she laid it all out for me one day. That was back when I was looking for a full time assistant. I told her it would be a waste of her education...and it would be, a waste."

He stood up and put out his hand. "This is where you tell me you need to drive over to Tooele and see a man about a marker..."

I at least stopped for gas and a very large soda before I left...

With the window down and the music up full blast, the drive was pretty pleasant – so far. The bus was running great and I was able to run at just over 60 per, everything stayed cool and this was a good indicator that the trip to Alaska would be a smooth run.

My GPS lady started squawking before I got into town proper, not surprising, a metal work would be a bad neighbor for anyone but a dedicated industrial area.

The company name left little to the imagination - Fertigungsanlagen (https://www.linguee.com/german-english/translation/Fertigungsanlagen.html) Metallkraftwerks GmbH, clearly indicating a home-grown, long-time Utah company that my searches showed had recently been acquired by a larger European conglomerate.

The lady I had talked with on the telephone seem to understand what I was looking for, so I had assumed, that word again, a quote would be a piece of cake. Assumed had been killing me all day... The loss of my contact data was my fault, I should have sent a follow-up email, but had failed to do that. Being in a hurry always caused issues, little or big, and I should have learned that lesson by now.

Two turns and along drive later, my GPS guide announced I had arrived. The place had a pretty serious industrial vibe, but a new looking office building place sat out almost on the road, glass front and all. Certainly, the place looked too modern for a outfit that had been doing foundry and machine work for decades. Maybe that European money was being put to use.

I parked and walked into an empty room. The wall had both a listing of name & numbers, but the counter lacked an attendant. Walking up the counter proper revealed a button marked as Drücken Sie die Taste für den Service. I could sort that much out and pressed to test. A few seconds later, a younger woman appeared from a doorway and joined my on her side of the counter.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. I'm Moses Canyon." I fished the paper, still unread, from my pocket, waving it around, "Your company left a message for me. I had asked for a quote on a small bronze plaque?"

"Moses? Is that correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that is correct."

"A moment, please." She picked up a handset and punched in a number on an unseen keypad. A bit later, she stated, "Zelda? Ya. Das ist Lina. Your transporter fellow is here." She nodded at whatever answer she got in return and then placed the headset back in its cradle.

"If you please, Zelda will be here to collect you very soon. She asked that I apologize for us, together, as I carelessly and foolishly lost your data." She turned a definite shade of red, something rare for me to see.

"Ahh, look...Lina. Not a problem. I wanted to take a drive today anyway."

To this, she just turned a deeper shade of red. Before I could jam my foot any deeper into my own mouth, a woman blew into the room, radiating such...energy that I was momentarily taken aback.

I took stock of the new arrival. A full 160 cm on a good day, and I doubt she would tip the scales anywhere near 50 kilos. Her hair was jet black and done in some kind of severe braid, worn like a ponytail.

She put out her hand, saying, "I'm Zelda, Zelda Harriman, I head the digital Kraftwerks. My partner is Zachary Gold. Come, he wants to meet you now as well."

I waved at the still silent Lina and followed. I was still struck by Zelda's eyes, a strange shade of violet. While this wasn't a legit rabbit hole, the situation was taking on a otherworldly vibe. Maybe I was just tired, still...

It was just a short walk to a cramped workspace. Not quite a closet or storeroom, this space clearly, to me anyway, was originally never meant to be an office. The back wall held a side to side desk, one hosting several monitors and under which squatted what had to be some kind of industrial computer. On the left was a printer and the other wall held up...I had no idea. In the middle of this sat a bear of a man.

"Look, Zack, Lina has found your bus gentleman!"

It was time to put on the brakes here. "Excuse me? Bus gentleman?" I didn't want to sound ugly, but this was from left field...

The bear stood and turned around. If he lost his gig here, I was certain any number of teams would sign this guy as a linebacker. He stood a bit taller than me and had a smile that would light up any room he entered.

"Yes. Good morning. Zelda is most correct; I am looking forward to meeting you very much!" He pointed to a seat, "Please have some time with us both."

I sat down and waited. The rabbit, I was beginning to fear, would be along any second.
Zelda saved the day when she handed me a newspaper. Below the fold was a large image of me guiding in the medicvac chopper. The caption was...unwelcome. "Hero saves infant abandoned on rural roadside." Just the kind of tabloid crap I hated.

"Mr. Canyon, you seem...displeased at the newspaper. May I ask why? Zelda's question seemed sincere, and was soft-spoken, telling me I really needed to work on my poker face.

"In the US, I assumed it was customary for a news outlet to ask permission before using an image of a person. I was not contacted. May I?"

I took the paper to examine it. It took just a second to see the paper was a local rag, mostly reprinting wire service crud and feeds from Salt Lake. I scanned the article and quickly discovered the air ambulance service had released the image and story as PR ploy. They likely saw this as a chance at some free publicity; I chose to see it as an invasion of my privacy. Worse, it had my name and listed Alaska as my residence.

I looked back up at the pair. "May I keep this? I need to send a copy to my attorney, there might be implications I'm not aware of..." At their look, I hastily added, "I'm not on the lam, it's a privacy thing."

Zack looked between the both of us before asking, "Vas ist das... lam?"

I had to laugh. "Sorry. I am not in trouble of any kind with the authorities. I'm just very protective of my privacy. I've had past dealings with newspapers and found them to be...less than truthful when they have an agenda."

Zelda waved a hand. "Of course, the paper is yours. What we wanted to show you was the design for your plaque request. Zack had assumed your request is related to the story of the...infant." She leaned over and lightly touched my leg. "If this is not the case, I am so..."

I patted her hand before giving it back, "Nothing to apologize for, the plaque is for just that infant. She did not survive the night. It seems that the mother was a heroin addict and the baby was born, also addicted. Not to mention she was very premature, often a side effect of maternal drug abuse."

The pair just sat and stared at me for a couple of minutes, not doubt processing the bad news. "Yes, the quite harsh reality of life can be startling, to say the least. Now... You were going to show me...?"

Zack recovered first, turning he tapped one of the keyboards. The monitor on my side of the long desk flashed to life. Six different images popped up. Each held the message I had given in my quote request, but each was very different.

Here, Zelda spoke so softly as to make it hard to hear her words over the hum of the computer fans. "When we left a message with the Coroner, in our attempt to contact you, he indicated to us that he was very aware of the situation. He also said the format size had been determined by you. Using that data, we proceeded to craft these prototypes."

She continued with, "None of us are aware on any...religious context you wish, and these sorts of...products, often have such, as part of the design. Given the words you left in your original contact, Zack and I came up with these designs, each with what we believe are appropriate..."

Indeed, each of the designs held these words "Born innocent of any sin, Baby Jane Doe has returned home to the love she was denied here".

Zack now chose to speak. "We tried several ways to make this symmetrical, with the three-line format we saw as the best fit. What do you think?"

Each design was unique. I stared at each, weighing what might be a light touch. Two were heavy on small Angels, normally appropriate. Given the situation, both were out.

"What kind of flowers are these?" The last image used just a few flowers and was quite tasteful in my view.

"These are a stylized Carnation, we have both fully bloomed and can have just budding flowers as well." Zack tapped his keyboard and I watched as the display changed instantly. "You see these can be quite varied. I can show them," he started tapping again, "in profile, a three quarter view and a normal or classic overhead view, as though the viewer were holding the blossom in hand..."

"I see. Can you run a line off each side of the name line, with the flowers getting smaller toward the end, to make the line bit more...distinctive?"

Zack's answer was to start typing, pausing for each iteration of the flowers requested...

Finally, I was able to say, "Perfect! Right there..."

I now turned fully to face Zelda. "How long before you can get this cast?"

To my surprise she said, "Thank you. We can have this to you just after lunch." At my dumbfounded look, she continued, "Zack and I are here to launch a new ultrafast prototyping service, especially in metals like brass or bronze." Pointing to the odd box at the side, she said "From this CAD image, we cut a precision ceramic mold with this machine. This mold goes to the foundry, where it is filled with a kind of bronze powder. Then it goes into what is called a parasitic oven, which is on the back of the regular melt furnaces. There is enough vibration and heat to ensure the mold fills completely when the powder melts. If needed, the machine shop can flatten the back of the piece or make any adjustments per the customer. All much newer than the additive process used by many..."

"I'm impressed. How much will this cost, I ask as I have not yet received a quote..."

Zelda looked at me quite intensely. "If you will sign a release, so we can use this product to show the accuracy of the process, we will waive any change." She held up a hand to forestall what she expected to hear, "We will replace the baby's name with a series of Xs – place holders. Our managers are most anxious to have a few real-world examples to introduce this new process. Do you see?"

"And my privacy?"

"No mention of you or Baby Jane will be released. Only Zack and I will have the full story. You happen to be the first, as we have just this week finished testing of our system here in Utah."

This offer required some real thought on my part. "I'll get some lunch, come back and look at the release, then decide. Otherwise, what is the cost?"

She held up a finger and started typing on her keyboard, while Zack kept working away on his. "Today, with tax, just under three hundred US dollars. The metal we are going to use is recycled from a shaping operation and is also part of the testing. To date, this kind of metal has shown to work the best, being annealed in the earlier casting. As a plus to this use, this bolsters our claims for recycling and controlling waste." She made a face, adding "It should keep the bean counters happy as well, yes?"

I had to laugh at this. "Always the bean counters..."

Her next comment was a surprise, "If I may, I would like to take you to lunch as our guest. We should have never lost your contact data, and this cost you time and fuel for the trip here. Think of it as an apology on our part."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

She laughed, "At home, we would have some schnitzel and beer. That is not possible here. So, a steak and some good coffee?"

"I take it you have someplace in mind? I'm a complete stranger, despite having travelled through Tooele a few times. None of these involved anything more than gas station food..."

"Then we are both saved. Lina has made friends with a nearby steakhouse. They are familiar to us."

With the window down and the music up full blast, the drive was pretty pleasant – so far. The bus was running great and I was able to run at just over 60 per, everything stayed cool and this was a good indicator that the trip to Alaska would be a smooth run.

My GPS lady started squawking before I got into town proper, not surprising, a metal work would be a bad neighbor for anyone but a dedicated industrial area.

The company name left little to the imagination - Fertigungsanlagen (https://www.linguee.com/german-english/translation/Fertigungsanlagen.html) Metallkraftwerks GmbH, clearly indicating a home-grown, long-time Utah company that my searches showed had recently been acquired by a larger European conglomerate.

The lady I had talked with on the telephone seem to understand what I was looking for, so I had assumed, that word again, a quote would be a piece of cake. Assumed had been killing me all day... The loss of my contact data was my fault, I should have sent a follow-up email, but had failed to do that. Being in a hurry always caused issues, little or big, and I should have learned that lesson by now.

Two turns and along drive later, my GPS guide announced I had arrived. The place had a pretty serious industrial vibe, but a new looking office building place sat out almost on the road, glass front and all. Certainly, the place looked too modern for a outfit that had been doing foundry and machine work for decades. Maybe that European money was being put to use.

I parked and walked into an empty room. The wall had both a listing of name & numbers, but the counter lacked an attendant. Walking up the counter proper revealed a button marked as Drücken Sie die Taste für den Service. I could sort that much out and pressed to test. A few seconds later, a younger woman appeared from a doorway and joined my on her side of the counter.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. I'm Moses Canyon." I fished the paper, still unread, from my pocket, waving it around, "Your company left a message for me. I had asked for a quote on a small bronze plaque?"

"Moses? Is that correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that is correct."

"A moment, please." She picked up a handset and punched in a number on an unseen keypad. A bit later, she stated, "Zelda? Ya. Das ist Lina. Your transporter fellow is here." She nodded at whatever answer she got in return and then placed the headset back in its cradle.

"If you please, Zelda will be here to collect you very soon. She asked that I apologize for us, together, as I carelessly and foolishly lost your data." She turned a definite shade of red, something rare for me to see.

"Ahh, look...Lina. Not a problem. I wanted to take a drive today anyway."

To this, she just turned a deeper shade of red. Before I could jam my foot any deeper into my own mouth, a woman blew into the room, radiating such...energy that I was momentarily taken aback.

I took stock of the new arrival. A full 160 cm on a good day, and I doubt she would tip the scales anywhere near 50 kilos. Her hair was jet black and done in some kind of severe braid, worn like a ponytail.

She put out her hand, saying, "I'm Zelda, Zelda Harriman, I head the digital Kraftwerks. My partner is Zachary Gold. Come, he wants to meet you now as well."

I waved at the still silent Lina and followed. I was still struck by Zelda's eyes, a strange shade of violet. While this wasn't a legit rabbit hole, the situation was taking on a otherworldly vibe. Maybe I was just tired, still...

It was just a short walk to a cramped workspace. Not quite a closet or storeroom, this space clearly, to me anyway, was originally never meant to be an office. The back wall held a side to side desk, one hosting several monitors and under which squatted what had to be some kind of industrial computer. On the left was a printer and the other wall held up...I had no idea. In the middle of this sat a bear of a man.

"Look, Zack, Lina has found your bus gentleman!"

It was time to put on the brakes here. "Excuse me? Bus gentleman?" I didn't want to sound ugly, but this was from left field...

The bear stood and turned around. If he lost his gig here, I was certain any number of teams would sign this guy as a linebacker. He stood a bit taller than me and had a smile that would light up any room he entered.

"Yes. Good morning. Zelda is most correct; I am looking forward to meeting you very much!" He pointed to a seat, "Please have some time with us both."

I sat down and waited. The rabbit, I was beginning to fear, would be along any second.
Zelda saved the day when she handed me a newspaper. Below the fold was a large image of me guiding in the medicvac chopper. The caption was...unwelcome. "Hero saves infant abandoned on rural roadside." Just the kind of tabloid crap I hated.

"Mr. Canyon, you seem...displeased at the newspaper. May I ask why? Zelda's question seemed sincere, and was soft-spoken, telling me I really needed to work on my poker face.

"In the US, I assumed it was customary for a new outlet to ask permission before using an image of a person. I was not contacted. May I?"

I took the paper to examine it. It took just a second to see the paper was a local rag, mostly reprinting wire service crud and feeds from Salt Lake. I scanned the article and quickly discovered the air ambulance service had released the image and story as PR ploy. They likely saw this as a chance at some free publicity; I chose to see it as an invasion of my privacy. Worse, it had my name and listed Alaska as my residence.

I looked back up at the pair. "May I keep this? I need to send a copy to my attorney, there might be implications I'm not aware of..." At their look, I hastily added, "I'm not on the lam, it's a privacy thing."

Zack looked between the both of us before asking, "Vas ist das... lam?"

I had to laugh. "Sorry. I am not in trouble of any kind with the authorities. I'm just very protective of my privacy. I've had past dealings with newspapers and found them to be...less than truthful when they have an agenda."

Zelda waved a hand. "Of course, the paper is yours. What we wanted to show you was the design for your plaque request. Zack had assumed your request is related to the story of the...infant." She leaned over and lightly touched my leg. "If this is not the case, I am so..."

I patted her hand before giving it back, "Nothing to apologize for, the plaque is for just that infant. She did not survive the night. It seems that the mother was a heroin addict and the baby was born, also addicted. Not to mention she was very premature, often a side effect of maternal drug abuse."

The pair just sat and stared at me for a couple of minutes, not doubt processing the bad news. "Yes, the quite harsh reality of life can be startling, to say the least. Now... You were going to show me...?"

Zack recovered first, turning he tapped one of the keyboards. The monitor on my side of the long desk flashed to life. Six different images popped up. Each held the message I had given in my quote request, but each was very different.

Here, Zelda spoke so softly as to make it hard to hear her words over the hum of the computer fans. "When we left a message with the Coroner, in our attempt to contact you, he indicated to us that he was very aware of the situation. He also said the format size had been determined by you. Using that data, we proceeded to craft these prototypes."

She continued with, "None of us are aware on any...religious context you wish, and these sorts of...products, often have such, as part of the design. Given the words you left in your original contact, Zack and I came up with these designs, each with what we believe are appropriate..."

Indeed, each of the designs held these words "Born innocent of any sin, Baby Jane Doe has returned home to the love she was denied here".

Zack now chose to speak. "We tried several ways to make this symmetrical, with the three-line format we saw as the best fit. What do you think?"

Each design was unique. I stared at each, weighing what might be a light touch. Two were heavy on small Angels, normally appropriate. Given the situation, both were out.

"What kind of flowers are these?" The last image used just a few flowers and was quite tasteful in my view.

"These are a stylized Carnation, we have both fully bloomed and can have just budding flowers as well." Zack tapped his keyboard and I watched as the display changed instantly. "You see these can be quite varied. I can show them," he started tapping again, "in profile, a three quarter view and a normal or classic overhead view, as though the viewer were holding the blossom in hand..."

"I see. Can you run a line off each side of the name line, with the flowers getting smaller toward the end, to make the line bit more...distinctive?"

Zack's answer was to start typing, pausing for each iteration of the flowers requested...

Finally, I was able to say, "Perfect! Right there..."

I now turned fully to face Zelda. "How long before you can get this cast?"

To my surprise she said, "Thank you. We can have this to you just after lunch." At my dumbfounded look, she continued, "Zack and I are here to launch a new ultrafast prototyping service, especially in metals like brass or bronze." Pointing to the odd box at the side, she said "From this CAD image, we cut a precision ceramic mold with this machine. This mold goes to the foundry, where it is filled with a kind of bronze powder. Then it goes into what is called a parasitic oven, which is on the back of the regular melt furnaces. There is enough vibration and heat to ensure the mold fills completely when the powder melts. If needed, the machine shop can flatten the back of the piece or make any adjustments per the customer. All much newer than the additive process used by many..."

"I'm impressed. How much will this cost, I ask as I have not yet received a quote..."
Zelda looked at me quite intensely. "If you will sign a release, so we can use this product to show the accuracy of the process, we will waive any change." She held up a hand to forestall what she expected to hear, "We will replace the baby's name with a series of Xs – place holders. Our managers are most anxious to have a few real-world examples to introduce this new process. Do you see?"

"And my privacy?"

"No mention of you or Baby Jane will be released. Only Zack and I will have the full story. You happen to be the first, as we have just this week finished testing of our system here in Utah."

This offer required some real thought on my part. "I'll get some lunch, come back and look at the release, then decide. Otherwise, what is the cost?"

She held up a finger and started typing on her keyboard, while Zack kept working away on his. "Today, with tax, just under three hundred US dollars. The metal we are going to use is recycled from a shaping operation and is also part of the testing. To date, this kind of metal has shown to work the best, being annealed in the earlier casting. As a plus to this use, this bolsters our claims for recycling and controlling waste." She made a face, adding "It should keep the bean counters happy as well, yes?"

I had to laugh at this. "Always the bean counters..."

Her next comment was a surprise, "If I may, I would like to take you to lunch as our guest. We should have never lost your contact data, and this cost you time and fuel for the trip here. Think of it as an apology on our part."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

She laughed, "At home, we would have some schnitzel and beer. That is not possible here. So, a steak and some good coffee?"

"I take it you have someplace in mind? I'm a complete stranger, despite having travelled through Tooele a few times. None of these involved anything more than gas station food..."

"Then we are both saved. Lina has made friends with a nearby steakhouse. They are familiar to us."
*

It wasn't long before I was heading South, with the still warm plaque nested in a double layer of stout cardboard on the floorboards, in front of the passenger seat. It only took a few manures for me to realize that without some sleep, I would likely wind up off the road in a wreck.

Another mile crawled by when I spotted a pair of large OTR trucks parked in a gravel lot off the side of the road. It took me two seconds to pull in and find a spot out of the way. I then also shut off my engine and jumped into the back of the bus. I was able to pull the bed all the way out before falling into it and sleep.

The angry beeping of my watch woke me. A look out thru the window shade showed the sun near the horizon. I'd been out for several hours and still felt like crap. Running some lukewarm water in the basin and then splashing my face helped, but I was still bone tired. With nothing else left that I could do, it was back on the road and pressing on.

An hour and a half later, I was in the cabin and taking a hot shower. Setting my phone alarm, I climbed into bed and this time fell asleep after just a few minutes pondering how age could creep up on one at the worst possible times..
This time, the alarm pulled me from a dreamless sleep. Putting my feet on the floor I debated taking another shower or walking over to the office for a shot at the 'Continental Breakfast' offered to residents. I compromised with a shave and a large cup of coffee with a dash of cream. The offered bagels had seen better days and I really wasn't that hungry. Or desperate.

The café was out for now as Sonya wasn't there to run interference for me and eating in such a crowed space held little incentive to return.

On the way back to my cabin, I snagged my laptop out of the bus and fired it up using the RV parks internet link to connect to my VPN, then my mail server. Being on the road so much of late had honed my security senses and the way I handled my business over the 'net.

The messages were, for the most part, good. My neighbor would be able to clear the Alder growth over a wider area, thanks to a small grant from the Borough, using funding channeled into our area as a result of last year's massive wildfires. Since my cabin had an all metal roof, it was eligible for enhanced fire safe clearing. I wasn't going to look a gift horse, or nearly free clear-cutting, in the mouth, so as to speak.

One of my fishing buddies messaged me that a California flatlander was going to expand his McMansion up by the river and needed to clear a large gravel shelf on the property. He was getting paid to haul it away, and hoped he could he dump a few loads at my place to save fuel. I didn't break my arm replying but told him I would take all the gravel he would care to dump by the cabin. I could rent a skid steer to level it after I got back on site.

Finally, I messaged the Ace Hardware in Homer to order a full 40 gallons of log oil. With the lead times I'd seen in the past, this just seemed prudent. I had an account with that store, so the order would go though and I would pay on pickup. The cabin would get a good soaking of the oil and the logs sitting on the rock foundation would get a second coat.

By the time I was done, it was just past 9 AM. Now came the hard or tricky part. Using the local white pages I found Jen's phone number. I also noted the address should the call be successful.

Putting my phone in speaker mode, I dialed the number I'd found. It picked up on the second ring and a female voice said, "Hello?"

"This is Moses Canyon, am I speaking to Sonya's mother?"

"Yes! Moses, you have the right number. What can I do for you?"

"If it isn't a bother, I'd like to drop by and discuss a possible funding channel for Sonya's college time. That, and I have an item to discuss before the luncheon, if that's okay with you...?"

"Why, certainly. Come on over. Can you find our place?"

"I have the address, I doubt I could get lost in Middleton..."

"Great, I'll see you in a jiff then."

With no more than that, she terminated the connection. I put the laptop back in its little padded niche in the bus and drove on into town. It took a couple of wrong turns before I found the address I was seeking.

The little house was, at best, non-descript. A neatly trimmed front lawn and tidy paint gave the impression of some care taken in the upkeep of the place; the cracked drive leading up to the garage said something else.

There was a pair of steps leading up to the small front porch; the door opened before my foot hit the first step. Jen stood in the doorway beckoning me inside.

The space might be called a living room or a parlor, but it was smallish, holding only a well-used couch and an overstuffed easy chair. The corner held a large metal wood burning stove. The adjoining space was clearly being used as the dining room. The few photos hanging from the wall were of an obviously large family in different group poses. This told me of a family that had been in comfortable circumstances, but not lately.

"Moses. So good to see you again. You said something about college funding?"

That she had cut to the chase skipping any small talk said volumes.

"Yes. I'll be a brief as I can, you are, no doubt, very busy today."

Her reply was a bit of a surprise, "Don't be silly. This is one of my days off, I work it so the luncheon day is always free. Would you care for a cup of tea? I have the pot on right now."

"No, but thank you just the same. I've just finished a rather large coffee, I'll be good for the rest of today."

"Fine, have a seat, I'll be right back."

Rather than park myself in the easy chair, I pulled out one of the dining table chairs and sat, my back to the front door. A window to my left let in all the light I might need. Jen returned with a mug of what I assumed was tea, sitting at the opposite end of the table. The spacing said something; I just wasn't sure what that might mean.

"First, thank you for your time. I'll get right to the point. Sonya had a few minutes to chat yesterday while I had breakfast. She mentioned some classes here and how that could help with her desire to go up to the U for the rest of a degree program. The issue seemed to be affording things."

A wide range of emotions played across Jen's face. I could guess she was loath to talk about either money or her daughter's needs. Before she spoke, I continued.

"I think I can help with that." I pulled a small case from my pocket and removed an oversized business card. I slid this toward Jen. As she held it, I started again.

"The NPC Foundation specializes in funding college students. They have a rather...unique approach for this funding... If I may continue?"

She nodded; I kept going. "If the student is approved, the first semester's books and class fees, but not tuition, are fully covered, this is classed as a type of loan." I held up a finger.

"Should the student receive a grade of C or better, for all classes, the loan becomes a tax-free grant. The Foundation will then cover the same expenses, for the next semester and retroactively cover the expenses of tuition for the prior period. For every class where the grades meet the minimum criteria, the Foundation will carry the support forward to the next semester under the same terms. Should the student have grades better than the minimum, there is a sliding scale to cover some to most of their living expenses, again retroactively."

Jen just nodded. "Go on, there has to be more."

"More of a policy view from the Foundation. Many students can't cut it at college, but still run up massive debt with no good outcome from the expenses. This particular path by the Foundation, forces the student to have some skin in the game, the initial tuition costs and an incentive to stay focused, which is the loan conversion part. The carrot is the forward funding for the next semester and stick is the need to payback the funds for the books and fees. One can dispassionately see this as either generous or draconian. But no matter the view, it is not a free ride, by any means measured."

I leaned back and paused. Jen just sipped her tea and kept her own council.

"Bottom line, the student needs to track their expenses, if they expect to see any of the sliding scale funding for living expenses, which we have found to help them focus on expenses, rather than funding remaining. It also plays to being an incentive to do better than the minimum required to get ahead. In short, the foundation pays for results, not just 'trying'. Do you see?"

Jen nodded. "Not just diabolical, but diabolically clever. Quite the little rat race you've built with this Foundation. Given that life itself is the ultimate rat race, this fits nicely with forcing a youngster to decide just how hard they want to play in the ultimate race."

"You may see it as you wish, Jen. It is a funding channel with very well described strings attached in the most visible way possible. You and Sonya can decide if this is something she might wish to pursue. The card has the URL's for the Foundation and the expressed details are covered there in excruciatingly minute detail for one to study. I will add this is a 'by invitation only' process. Not everyone can cut it, but from what I see in Sonya, tells me she not only can cut it, but likely will excel in the process."

At this, Jen stood and left the room. When she returned, she had a small notepad and pencil in hand. This time when she sat, it was halfway down the table, toward my end of the expanse.

"Now then, Moses. You had something on the luncheon?"

I blew out a sigh. "About that. Tiffany and I had a...blowout yesterday over the other Art pieces. I honestly could have handled that much better, especially with my background. No matter, I don't see that Art as a positive or even appropriate to the cemetery or to the town Commons. They just don't, in my view, fit into the area. I get that this is matter of taste, perhaps, but it is one I cannot support."

Jen just sat, tapping her pencil on her teeth, deep in thought. What she might be thinking would, no doubt, be a mystery to me or any other man alive today.

"Moses. I'll concede to your point, for now. I'll also keep my opinion to myself for now as well, if you don't object. Let me ask this in return...what do you see that might be a better fit? I'm most curious."

This I was ready for... "Tiffany stressed the idea of a focal point and with vertical development, in an effort to tie the Annex and the greater cemetery together. I don't see the proposed Art object as a focal point; it does nothing to add to the overall layout and doesn't provide anything to think about. I see it as jarring, at best. May I borrow you pencil and paper?"

Sketching on the paper while I spoke, I said, "Here is the two separate parts of the whole. The flowerpots, which I fully support, will go here, here and here."

I made a trio of Xs for this point. I added another mark, this one a square, offset between the two areas and the parking lot.

"People go to a cemetery to remember, to ponder or to honor their friends and or family members there. I'd want to see a place, out of the weather or direct sun, where a person can sit and look at the whole of the cemetery. A place where people, families can gather to visit, at least for a while. Here..."

I drew a modified set of arches, with a bench as part of the support structure. The arch was covered.

"One could sit here, with one's back to the parking lot and take the time they may wish to...consider many things. The arch has a beginning and end, although which end is which is ambiguous. Being covered, one could tarry even in the rain or afternoon sun, with some comfort.

The overhead can be slotted to reduce wind load and if sited correctly steer breezes onto the bench. If someone wanted to add to the arch in the future, a semi-circular wall could be placed on the side of the prevailing wind, to provide some shelter in the winter. This wall might be built as a set of panels, adding additional panels as funding becomes available. All of this can be coated to allow easy cleaning should some dolts decide to spray paint any of the structures."

Jen just sat. I couldn't say if she was stunned, surprised or horrified. Finally, she stood.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be back shortly..."

With nothing more than that, she left the room again. On retuning a few minutes later, she simply said, "I've invited someone over. We have quite a bit of time before we have to leave for the luncheon venue. By the way, Moses, today we meet at Curley's on the northern end of town. They have quite the menu choice today..."

We both sat making some small talk about the weather when I heard the gravel crunch outside, indicting someone had arrived. I had no view, so this newcomer was unseen.

A minute later there was a tap at the door, and then it opened, allowing Tiffany to walk in. I had to catch my breath, she looked both desolate and so beautiful at the same time, I simply stopped breathing. Her eyes were rimmed, dark circles accenting the deep green.

Jen just pointed to the seat between us and then stood. "I'm getting some ice water, Tiff. You want something to drink or a snack?

"No, Aunt Jen, I'm fine. Thanks."

She sat, stiff backed, looking everywhere but at me. I tapped the table and said, "Be right back."

I ran out to the bus and grabbed the newspaper. I knew from checking that morning, the local Herald-Examiner site had been silent on both me and Baby Jane. Tiffany had respected my privacy....

On retuning inside, I found the pair had huddled over the now open and running laptop. I took my seat once more; I could wait to mention the newspaper....

The familiar trackball, pad and keyboard surrounded the laptop and I could see a drawing starting to appear on the screen.

Jen looked over at me and asked, "You have any idea of the size of these arches, or the bench itself?"

I nodded, "If the bench is free standing, the arch should center on the bench and be at least eight feet above ground level. If the bench is attached to the arch supports, then the bench should be offset and allow a tall person to sit without hitting their head. As for width or length. I'd say no more than 18 to 24 inches deep and as wide as needed for a large family. Perhaps as much as twenty feet..."

As I spoke, Tiffany tapped away on the laptop keyboard. She rolled the trackball several times, and then looked to Jen. With a slight nod, Tiffany went back to typing.

Staring straight ahead, Tiffany asked, "If you are using pipe for the arch itself, what diameter do you want?"

Rather than answer, I glanced at Jen, then put my hand lightly on Tiffany's shoulder. "I'm clueless here, kiddo. What do you think? Bigger may be a bit stronger, but harder to find locally."

When Tiffany turned to look at me, I could only blurt out, "Please...forgive me."

At this, Jen stood and left the room. I heard the back door slam and I knew we were alone. This would be my make-or-break moment. I took the chair that Jen had just vacated and turned it to face Tiffany. I then reached around and pulled her chair toward mine, so our knees touched. She offered no resistance, but also did nothing to assist.

Now came the risky part. I gently grasped her hands in mine, looked deep into her eyes and said, "I'm a complete ass. From a long line of said asses. I'm asking that you give me a second chance...please."

She jumped into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and with her head on my shoulder, she started sobbing.

Now I knew there was a chance to repair what I had stupidly broken...!
When the back door slammed again, this time loud enough I was certain the neighbors had to be wondering, Tiffany and I were both on the couch, deep into a second, lingering kiss. That was cut short by a discreet cough.

"Now that you two seem to have sorted some things out, we have an hour to clean up your presentation and get out to Curley's. If you two want to... skip lunch, we'll have almost two hours. What's your choice?"

Tiffany laughed, "If we skip lunch, poor Mrs. Colby will have an attack thinking Moses and I are back at my place, busy making..."

"A better plan for the presentation," I finished hastily.

Jen laughed, "Well, no matter. Too many of the club ladies have been busy deciding what your grandchildren will look like anyway... So, what will it be?"

It took me a bit to untangle from my little wildcat, and then stand.

"How about we mark this as a preliminary design drawing and open for some discussion? I also want to gin up a figure of merit number for potential costs. We already have the numbers for the flowerpots in hand."

Tiffany jumped up from the couch and on her way over to the laptop, slapped my backside. Tonight, would be nothing but a maze of potential emotional landmines to navigate through. I had to admit, it would be a most pleasant minefield to press through.

As Tiffany bent over working the keyboard, Jan walked up to me and gave me a full-frontal hug.

She then whispered into my ear, "Thank you. Tiff was over last night and so...destroyed, she couldn't stop crying..."

That message ended with another hug, I was now in the accepted zone. What came next would be a roller coaster, at best. But for now, I could ride the wind...or failing that - crash and burn again.
*
Lunch was wonderful. Served family style, I sat between Tiffany and Sonya, who had joined us for lunch; her mother next to the right of me and across the table sat the medic I'd met when I first walked into the Coroner's office complex. When I had shaken her proffered hand, I got a warm smile and a wink. I could only dare to nod in return.

The presentation went well enough, at the start. I took the reaction to the flowerpots as positive, for the most part. When I put up the drawing for the bench with arch, I could feel the change in the room. I had clearly crossed some line that was invisible to me.

Small town inertia had arrived, along with a good dose of, no doubt, who the hell does this stranger think he is added.

I fiddled with the portable projector for a few seconds, and then turned to face the group. In reading the room, I saw very little chance of this going anywhere. So, in for a penny, in for a dollar five eighty....

"This drawing and the overall design I must credit to both Tiffany Stroud and her Aunt, Jen. If I can use my time, please allow me to explain why I see this bench or at least a bench as a good thing.

Five years ago, I lost both my dear wife and our three-year-old boy to a stupid auto wreck." I still refused to call the event an accident.

"To make the whole situation even worse, this came at a time I had just finished formal rehab work at the VA – my injuries were from an aircraft crash, one that took place in El Anbar Province, Iraq."

You could cut the silence with a chainsaw, no knife could possibly work. I continued.

"The one saving grace, if you could call it such, is that my family died instantly, the vehicle that hit them was going nearly a hundred miles an hour. I had their remains cremated and their ashes mixed. I later purchased a couple of acres next to the local public park in my wife's hometown. I had it cleared and personally planted the area in grass, and later, clover – for the flowers. Every day, just before sundown, I would sit on the bench I'd installed and watch the sun set, pondering my loss."

I took a deep breath before going on.

"I did that for three months. One day, I did something different. I went out to the park before sunrise. I watched the sun rise and considered what I might do going forward – all while sitting on my bench. Finally, on a very bright Sunday morning, I said goodbye, sold everything and left for Alaska. I've never looked back, but I know the bench is still there..."

By now, every eye in the place was riveted on me. "I think benches are important. Yes, you could sit in the parking lot, in your auto, and think. I believe that a bench, one out in the air, in the open, in Nature, where you can see the sun, moon and stars is a far better thing to sit on. This one has a cover, so the sun and perhaps some rain won't be as bothersome. This so one can sit and ponder the many things that one often does at a cemetery... Please accept my thanks for your time."

I didn't sit back down at the table, but walked outside. I hadn't planned on that, but somehow, it just came to me, that I had done the right thing....