My Wife's Trip to Town

     My lovely, ever patient wife went to town today. The mid morning sky was chromed in classic Montana blue as a summer breeze performed a Burlesque fan dance through the forest. She had some errands to run, and needed a well deserved break from her retired husband’s manic rants. Not a quarter mile from our off-grid cabin, she witnessed a mountain lion take down a small Whitetail. The muscular cougar stretched across the gravel road, -seven feet whiskers to tail tip- caught the deer by the shoulder and snapped it’s neck. The attack was quick, efficient and both creatures disappeared before her SUV passed the spot where it happened. Nature is like that, succinct.  My wife adjusted her sunglasses, checked all her mirrors and proceeded down the mountain. 

    Four blind curves and two cutbacks later she watched as a towering Larch fell on top of a single-wide motorhome, crushing it into the ground. The huge conifer bounced two times before settling in a cloud of clay dust and pine needles. A lone man carrying a running chainsaw walked out of the brush and threw his hat on the ground. My wife shook her head, not bothering to stop and ask if he was alright. The motorhome looked like a cross between an accordion and a bow tie. Today it was a motor home, tomorrow a pick-up truck. Those type of incidents happen all the time. The second most told story at Wednesday night bowling league only overshadowed by someone’s latest hunting story.

     About a mile from the Teddy Roosevelt steel bridge, linking the east side of the Kootenai river to the west and connecting the forest to the town my pro-life sweetie swerved to avoid mashing a squirrel and blew a tire instead. After steering her SUV to the side of the road, and after waiting for the gravel dust to settle she got out and examined the tire. There’s no cell phone reception in the mountains, even this close to town, the only reception spot is in the southwest corner of the grocery store parking lot. My sure-to-be canonized spouse had to walk the last mile into town. Fortunately it was a beautiful day, sunny, warm but not hot and the forest smelled of wild flowers. She crossed the bridge, stopping momentarily to admire the emerald clarity of the river running beneath. The Kootenai “chameleons” from a milky jade to a deep jade in spring, transforming into a sparkling emerald in the summer and swirls into a deep serpentine green in the fall. The aesthetic never gets old. 

     In town, positioning herself in the southwest corner of the grocery store parking lot, my sweet love called first the tow service, TAZ towing, and Bobby the owner -a slight of build cartoon character- said he’d pick up the truck right after his lunch at Jacks diner, they were having his favorite, roast beef on toast, gravy and mashed potatoes. That announcement prompted tiny growls of hunger in my wife’s stomach. Ignoring the pangs, she next phoned her friend and church buddy who lived south of town for a ride home. The woman said she’d be happy to pick my wife up at the store. With that confirmation, my resourceful honey proceeded inside for some grocery supplies. The check-out computer was down again so the cash registers had to be operated manually. Our small town is technologically challenged. A half hour later she stood outside, a plastic bag in each hand and her saddlebag purse hung on her shoulder. Her ride back home was uneventful. 

     Our bullmastiff Tassie raised her head off the couch and made a quiet chuff, and that’s how I knew my wife had returned. I walked into the kitchen to refill my coffee cup as she entered the back door. 

     

     “Hey hon, how was your foray to town?” She set the bags on the counter, dropped her purse on a chair by the door. She then went to the glassware shelf and pulled down a cocktail glass. 

     “What cha doin’?” I asked, as it was not quiet our customary “booze O’clock” yet. 

     “What does it look like I’m doing? You ask the stupidest questions sometimes.”

     “I dunno, we’re out of vodka.”

     “Then give me the scotch.”

I poured her two fingers and she made a casino Black Jack signal to hit her again. 

     “I take it something happened?” 

     “Nope.” she said taking her four fingers of scotch to her favorite recliner, “Everything was fine. Steins was having a 10lb meat sale.”

     I peeked out the backdoor window and noticed her truck missing and the taillights of her friends car headed down our long drive. I took a moment to study my wife’s profile as she relaxed in her chair and sipped her scotch. I admired the calm and content features of the woman who left the big city, learned to gut and dress livestock, qualify 98 out of a hundred target hits with a semi-automatic, garden and can everything from turnips to bear hump, take care of my parents, three dogs and a cat and still strong-arm me into marrying her after 20 years common law. I sipped my coffee and didn’t ask anymore questions. I love my wife, she’s a rock. 

Author's Note

Just another day on the mountain.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

A brilliant story. gathering country dust and life-wire power hip to hip, start to finish. Had feelings that everything mentioned so finely and graphically would beat the main character into pulp.. but, NO!. And then, yes.. you're correct, sainthood is most definitely on the books - in the distant distance, please. I laughed and frowned, enjoying every part, in spite of..

[roarke]

Thanks Em, I'm so happy when someone enjoys my stories.

[M.E.Lyle]

Now that's a woman! My own wife is quite solid herself, except she would describe, in great detail, every event that took place. She's funny that way. Of course, it's always my job to sit and listen intently to every word she says, trying hard to understand everything she says without nodding off to sleep.
She's a wonderful woman.
Another great, and entertaining write.

[roarke]

Thanks M.E. glad you could relate. lol We writers have to get our stories from somewhere, right? So glad you were entertained, one of my primary goals for my readers.

[M.E.Lyle]

Yes, and the women in our lives are a great source of inspiration.
One little note, the font is a bit small for these old eyes of mine.
The younger kids can read anything, but anyone over 50 might struggle. It's that "Old eyes syndrome," all over again.

[roarke]

hmm, I absolutely know what you mean, I usually type in 18, and post in 14 for those reasons... seems that didn't happen on the copy/paste this time, I'll remedy.

[Kenneth The Poet]

You write with an unparalleled wit. Your use of the English language is completely and justifiably enviable. That line about Booze O'Clock had me howling. I wish I could write prose an eighth this stunning, a sixteenth this memorable. Thank you for this, roarke.

[roarke]

I glad you enjoy this tale, mostly all true, I'm still working on the writing part, still trying to understand what makes stories memorable to write, and maybe it's that pursuant process that keeps me from turning into a puddin' head. lol Thanks again Ken.

[Beccy]

The detail is exquisite; like a finely woven tapestry. Wish I could write stories like this, instead of just poetry. You make the reader cherish every line.

Beccy.

[roarke]

Wow, thanks B. wish I could write poetry. I'm trying to adjust/refine my writing, seems something is working by the comments here. Thanks for the read and comments.

[barleygirl]

This is the best story of yours that I've read so far. Sometimes I catch a bit of rambling from you, when it comes to storytelling, but this time you drove this story home in a logical linear fast-paced fashion, which I love. The fact this true-life story itself is full of great details is not what I'm extolling (even tho it's great material & you trusted your material, using it wisely). I'm talking about your actual writing & storytelling . . . you really got out of your own way this time. This is so well-told! Compelling, clear, no wasted rambling, every detail vivid & perfect for the point. If your wife is so resourceful, why didn't she change her own tire? (couldn't resist) I love your admiration for her! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[roarke]

thank you BG, so glad you liked it and found it an enjoyable read. As for my wife, I don't carry a spare, so the truck needed the tow. lol. And you are correct, I don't usually write this way, it's not really me, but maybe it should be eh? I guess theres a difference between popular/commercial writing and esoteric/art writing... still searching for something in between. Thanks again.

[Ken Simm.]

Damn right she is a rock. Taking things in her stride. You lucky sod as we say over here.
This is written with all kinds of joy, of your wife obviously ,; but also of the place you live and the life there. In short it is a wonderful tale of mountain life. And oh how I remember and miss that perk me up malt.

[roarke]

Yep Ken, I whole heartedly admit I'm a very lucky man. She was the direct answer to a prayer a couple decades ago and I wasn't a praying man. And it is like this, not much exaggeration and certainly none about my wife. Thanks for stopping by and taking a read.

[Samuel Dickens]

Now, that's some wife ya got there. Unlike mine, she's cool under pressure and doesn't let the little things stop her from getting things done. I'd ask you to trade, but you're too good of a friend. A bit true and a bit fiction I imagine, but great fun to read all the way through. "...honey proceed inside..." Proceeded?

[roarke]

naw Sam, can't trade her, she was a direct answer to a prayer a few decades ago. Mostly 90% true about my wife, and 10% about the events. Living like we do, it's absolutely essential to have two positive, on the same page people with a good relationship, otherwise this would have been over the first year. Thanks for stopping by and good catch on the typo. Damn auto whatever it is, it's gotten worse. lol