Season TWO – Episode 3 – “From here to eternity.”
The plane was late into Kalispell, MT and from there it was 132-miles to Twin Rivers. After that, it was another plus-38 on a two-track that led to THE Gold Rope Ranch. Sally had arranged for chauffeur service prior to their arrival… But when they exited the terminal gate there was no one there to greet them.
Just past midnight Sally phoned the ranch and inquired about their ride. The airport was from here to eternity away from their destination.
“Yes, hello, this is Sally Squatsnfishes… (she had woken someone from their slumber) Our plane was late getting in, and it seems as though our driver is missing?”
“Ms. Squatsnfishes, can you give me a couple minutes and I’ll try to reach River Jon on his cell,” the briskly voice on the other end responded.
“Sure, just give me a shout back. It’s late. We’re exhausted.”
Rusty had a cargo load of luggage stacked ten-high on his shoulders waiting for the call-back. Sally had packed enough gear to weigh down a mid-sized elephant. “Would be nice if we had one,” he thought to himself.
“Yes, Ms. Squatsnfishes… I’ve contacted our driver River Jon (Twin Rivers town drunk) and it seems as though he gave up on you folks about two hours ago and made his way down to the Barbed Wire Saloon. It’s a couple blocks down the street from the airport to the south, and I’m sorry to say he’s most likely in no condition to drive at this point in the evening.”
“Hey, we’re scheduled for shooting tomorrow morning!” Sally barked. “Hanging out in Kalispell for the night isn’t a game plan that works for me… Just give me this Jon guys number, and I’ll track him down myself!”
Out the airport doors Sally blasted… “Rusty, you stay put. And for god’s sake try not to lose our luggage. I’ll be right back.” (Sally was pissed.)
The Barbed Wire Saloon was a page cut out of early western days. An overly long warped wooden bar top stretching the length of the building… High mirrored glass running the distance behind the booze rails stacked four deep… And a tilted floor that showed its age with little peaks and valleys running in unmatched patterns.
In the mix of the late-night crowd (she assumed River Jon), an unkempt man wearing a sweat stained Stetson, was swaying to and fro perched atop a barstool. His tattered button up cowboy shirt was four days past due a rinse and cycle, and the leather on his boots was sawdust dry and cracked with lines that stretched across his forehead. Babbling with a BIG ‘OL western twang… He was holding court for anyone who may or may not have cared to listen.
“Bartender… I’ll take a frosty mug please.” Sally sweetly ordered. “Thanks much, sir.” And she slipped the barkeep a crisp twenty across the counter.
Making her way into the crowd she approached this man who also displayed a black patch covering his left eye. “Absolute beauty” she thought to herself.
“Excuse me sir… You wouldn’t by chance be Rooster Cogburn, would you?” she glimmered.
“Well look at you now missy… I go by River Jon around these parts… But based on what I’m seein’, I could be just about any rooster you wanted me to be!”
In the blink of his one good eye, Sally went full send with her mug of beer, and washed away any hope from the smug face of one (now paying full attention) Mr. River Jon. He wore that beer on his overgrown skuzzy length of beard, and before he could twitch, she had his head pressed down against the bar top, clamping down on his right ear lobe.
“Now listen here shit-kicker! I’m Sally Squatsnfishes… And you’re my ride to the Gold Rope Ranch! So, either get your dumb-cowboy-ass in gear and follow me out this door, or you’re gonna need a patch for the one good eye you have!”
The tavern exploded with laughter as River Jon was towed from the Barbed Wire Saloon by the likes of a woman they never knew existed. Most were glad to see him go.
Back at the airport she bounded through the entry way… “Let’s go Rusty… I found our ride,” she boasted while tossing him the keys to the Willys Wrangler Jeep 4X.
“There’s a drunk Montana cowpoke in the backseat, so you’re the chauffeur on this goat rope of a late-night trip. I need some sleep.”
“OK,” Rusty perked up, “Nice… I’ll take the wheel.”
“Luggage first,” Sally pointedly instructed.
By the time they made Twin Rivers and hit the two tracks… River Jon continued to suck the air in and out of the Jeep from the back seat through his hairy nostrils… Sally sat shotgun with her head padded against the window, soundly asleep resting her beauty against a new style Patagonia Berber camo pullover.
“Where in the hell are we?” Rusty strained. It was 3:25 in the morning and he was searching to see a sign, a lighted house, a barn, anything that resembled directions to the Gold Rope Ranch. The coffee had run out hours ago and his eyes looked like two piss holes in a snowbank.
Even at a reduced speed… The potholes in the dirt path were now craters on the moon.
“Ouch… Are we there yet?” Sally awoke. Head banging against the window.
“No, but this Jeep is a rough riding S.O.B. I don’t know if we’ll ever get there.”
“Errrrrrrrrr… Stop the Jeep Rusty. Can’t you feel that? We must have a flat tire. Stop and let me look.”
Sure enough… The rear passenger tire was down on the rim… It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the cause for this ridiculously lousy ride. (c’mon Rusty)
“Get out and change it Rusty… There’s a tire and an iron hanging on the back gate of the Jeep.” And then it was back to snooze time for Sally.
Deliriously exhausted Rusty scrambled for the jack and soon had the tire replaced. “There, he clapped his hands, no Nascar record pit stop but we’re back in the race!”
Presently, he thought he was speaking to himself, until he saw a four-foot-tall jackrabbit peering curiously from the nearby buckbrush. No one in the Jeep was clearly impressed. All living life forms within the Willys Wrangler were sleeping soundly.
Back inside behind the wheel… “Did I just see a jackrabbit wearing four buckled overshoes?” he spoke out loud to himself. “Dude… You need sleep.”
“Thanks honey,” Sally offered as he closed the driver’s doors somewhat LOUDLY and put the Jeep into forward gear. “According to my satellite imagery… It looks like we have about fourteen and a half miles to go.”
Firmly accelerating… They continued bouncing. Now at a higher speed and rougher than before!
“Rusty… Didn’t you change that tire?”
“Yes… Do you want to look for your damn self!” He was over-tired and now over-irritated.
“Easy cowboy… I was just asking… And clearly something isn’t right. Just stop and let me look at it,” Sally said.
“Ok, whatever,” and he slammed the brakes, launching everyone forward. Including River Jon who was now balled up on minimal floor space in the rear of the vehicle.
Sally stepped out on the running board and looked to the back of the Jeep. The rear passenger tire was now gone?!?!
“Rusty, did you change the rear passenger tire?”
“ Ummm… Yeah… I thought I did.”
“Well obviously you thought wrong! The front tire is full of air… The back tire is completely off the rim… And it looks to me like the tire hanging from the tailgate is perfectly fine. Something isn’t right.”
And clearly it wasn’t. This trip… This Jeep… This tire…. And now it was all culminating with a very over-tired Rusty Flathers who had mistakenly changed the wrong wheel. No wonder he was getting weird looks from the oversized jackrabbit wearing four buckle overshoes!
Back to the pits for Mr. Rusty. This change-over would be faster. He’d show Sally Squatsnfishes that he could get the job done.
And just as that exact thought raced through his mind… The jack-stand kicked out from under the Jeep’s frame and blasted clean through the rear passenger floorboard of the vehicle. Luckily, River Joe’s head took the brunt of the impact, so there was minimal damage to the interior. But the potential for driving was now extremely problematic.
Sally felt the Jeep drop two feet from its previous heightened angle, and then heard the head of the jack stand burst through the metal floor.
“From here to eternity,” she shook her head.
– To Be Continued –
