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There were two levels in
the little café and my friends had chosen to sit where the floor was raised
about two feet above the other one. It wasn't much of an elevation but it
did give just enough of a rise so that there was a vantage point of sorts.
All the comings and going of the little room became more easily viewed. When
first walking into the building, I noticed a couple of cars parked in the
lot from out of state; a Texas tag was on one of them. There wasn't any
need to guess which one was the Texan in the room. He was lean looking,
well groomed and had white hair and mustache almost the color of his cowboy
hat hanging on the rack behind him.
Every once in a while
his voice could be heard in the noisy room and he sounded like a recording
of Sam Elliot, the movie star. The drawl he used was even more drawn out
and easy than my friend's husband who was now sitting directly across from
me.
“Ah shore 'em gliad you
all come out to have lunch with us,” he spoke to me.
“Purely all my
pleasure,” I told him. “Where is your lady?”
“Oh alll, reckin she'll
be along directly.” His smooth slow talkin' ways reminded me of my Grand
Dad and I always experienced a moment of nostalgia while he talked.
“Ah've been a readin'
you're ah...book, now.” He had a pleasant expression on his face along with
a slight smile and this told me he was enjoying it.
And then our attention
was caught away from conversation while his wife slipped into a chair beside
him. The three of my friends were now engaged in their own exchanges and it
gave me a chance to observe the tall good looking Texas at the table beside
us. He never noticed me watching him because his concentration was totally
tied up with observing the very pretty little waitress.
The youthful woman
looked to have stepped into the restaurant off her Daddy's farm. She was
wholesome and healthy with a well-built, slim body in tight blue geans. Her
reddish hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head but small wisps of
curls had slipped out and framed her face with a Celtic style. Her smile was
broad and friendly as she zipped back and forth to carry delicious home
cooked meals for a dining room packed with people enjoying their time in
this country cafe.
“So tell us about the
next Chilocco meeting, and how your book sales are going?” I was pulled away
from the pleasant scene of the cowboy from Texas enjoying the beauty from
Oklahoma.
“The next Chilocco
meeting will be March 10 at Newkirk. Right there in front of the Main
Street Heritage Center on Main street. We will meet at four a.m. and take a
guided bus tour through the school. Better come on up. At seven o'clock we
will meet back at the center for cookies, punch, and a short program. Bret
Carter has a slide show prepared, and a couple of speakers will talk about
the old Indian boarding school. I will be one of the speakers.”
We'll see when I get my
first royalty check how the book sales are going, if I don't starve to death
before then.”
“Well, now Donna, don't
want to make you mad, but you don't look like you are a starving'. No,
nope, not even a little bit.” I had made a loaded comment and, of course,
my friends were not going to let it pass.
“I've been handing them
out to my friends. Everyone seems to enjoy reading. Every once in a while
during my life time I've done something right.” The friendly support of my
friends and the sweet memories of my country childhood was poured over me
and the day was one for writing about in my journal to keep for a memory. |
