The Trinket Ch. 02

Chapter Two: The Indian Reservation Station

A car sliced through the heavy hot air, roaring across the desert highway. Blasting past a rickety and wind worn sign, that read; Indian Reservation Station, one mile ahead. The wind slapped at the sign, vibrating it at a loose screw. It then settled into stillness, after the vehicles passing wake, subsided.

In the Desert, on a hot sweltering afternoon, the sun literally bakes the Earth's crust. An unclear horizon lay in ripples of distorted reality. In a land thought to be too hot to live in, illusions dance with highway heat waves.

Sand and dust swirled in an upward curl behind the vehicle along the roadside as it drove across the asphalt pavement. Hot tar resembles the sound of a rain-wet road as the tires gyrate through the black soup. Like a still Black River on a gray highway, the tires rode in the groove, of the well traveled.

Lynn reached out and turned the radio off. The annoying 'crackling' sound disappeared and the wind rushing in the open windows became crystal clear. She pulled her whipping loose strands of short hair, up behind her head and held it there. Basking in the breeze that flowed across her neck and shoulders she charged through the blistering heat.

The car rumbled a thunderous sound across silent dunes and parches of cracked Earth. Echoing off distant pillars of paramount rocks and wind beat miniature mountains. Miles and miles of dirt grit and sand as far as the eye can see.

Brown, dried and dead vegetation scattered in a peculiar pattern. Slightly, evenly spaced, possibly the exact distance needed to sustain vegetation with such a limited water supply. This dead brown color soaked into the landscape. Blending in the distance, into one solid dull, dry golden brown.

Lynn licked her parched lips, as the Station grew closer. It looked like a small tin barn with signs from the distance. As the rustic old service station grew closer, she saw a soda machine out front. Like an oasis in the desert or a magnet to the metal of her car. She pulled into the Indian Reservation Station, directly in front of the soda machine.

Lynn turned the car key off and the motor quit. She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and with her other hand released the door handle. The car door swung open and she rolled out of the low riding Saab.

Her blouse was soaking wet across her back. Lynn shut the car door and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. Then pulled her shirt outward, shaking it to allow air to her skin and to shed the sticky shirts grip.

She began walking towards the station entrance and stopped when she saw the large woven spider web at the glass. She took one step backwards, then saw the big sign posted in the door's window: Closed.

Straight in front of her was the machine. A large picture of an ice cold can drink molded into the machines facial features. The cold sweat beads were in tiny bubbles along the can's picture. A tantalizing advertising sales incitement, out here in the desert. Teasing any whom didn't have change.

Lynn quickly began scrounging around the bottom of her purse. She mostly dropped her change into the large opening and rarely put coins selectively into a compartment. Her hand emerged with a small stack of coins and she began sorting the change.

A large gust of wind blew fiercely, slinging a million sand pellets against the stations structure. Lynn turned her head instinctively away from the on coming gust and shielded her eyes. She dropped a couple of coins but her mind was more concerned with ensuring her eyes didn't get sand in them than to bother looking where they fell.

The strong wind blew past and a calm to light hot breeze trailed. Lynn unfolded her hand and resumed counting her change. She flicked back her hair and stood in front of the machine studying the selections. As she recalled the coins that had fallen she turned to give a quick glance and saw an old woman standing next to her.

Lynn was at first startled then noticed the woman's hand was extended outward with two silver coins in her palm.

The woman was much shorter than Lynn. Her gray hair lay in braids across each of her shoulders. Over a long sleeve, light blue shirt and an aged, long white dress.

"Thank you," Lynn said as she took the two coins from the woman's palm. The Old Indian woman smiled a toothless smile then turned and walked away.

Lynn slid a coin into the slot, then another. Pressing her selection, she listened as it tumbles to the bottom. Lynn turned towards where the old woman had stood and seen she had only walked a few yards then sat back into an outdoor lawn chair, under the shade of a tin awning.

Lynn reached down and pulled her soft drink from the dispensing area of the machine. Stood up and placed the cool can to her forehead as she turned more towards the old Indian woman. She began to notice the tables strung out along the carport-shaded area. What was once parking for cars was now a roadside 'used curios' sale.

Lynn rolled the cool can across her cheek and down her neck as she eased a step forward. She rolled her head around slowly then twisted her body realizing a good stretch was needed. She pulled the tab and opened the can drink. Gulped a swallow then licked at her wind and sun chapped lips.

Lynn ran her fingers through her wind blown, shoulder length, mid-night black hair. She made an adjustment to her shorts as she took a couple more steps.

She smiled at the old woman that sat quietly. Watching Lynn's every move for a lack of anything else to see moving, other than passing dust devils.

Lynn strolled to the row of tables that offered 'used' items. The first thing she noticed were the various size, stones and rocks. Obviously not for sale but for anchors and weights to secure the loose and light items that would sail in a gusting breeze. Oddly enough some of the rocks were very colorful and in some instances even more attractive than some of the curios for sale.

Lynn picked up a turquoise bracelet and put it on her wrist. Spinning it around and testing its fit. As she put her arm out straight and down, it slid off her wrist and back onto the table.

A gust of wind whipped by and Lynn covered her open container with her hand. Sand sailed through the area lightly. She pulled her hair back again as she glanced at the woman whom just sat there staring patently and smiling quietly. She wore a sun-wrinkled face and sunken lip smile. She kept her leather-tanned hands together in her lap.

Lynn smiled and resumed her stroll along the covered tables more for the stretch than a shopping spree. Old clothes hats and blankets lay on one table. Jewelry and trinkets lay on another. Her eyes leap frog, from item to item, as she passed them up and came to the last table of the row.

The wind gust and a few long feathers flew up and outward then settled back to the table. Several long white feathers with black ends and quills. Lynn reached out and stroked their alluring texture. She went to pick it up and found that it was attached. She picked up the rock that held a small stack of feathers and placed it to the side.

She sat her soda can down and grasped the oval rod that held the feathers and raised it upward. The oval ring hung down ward swinging as She raised her hand even higher. Lynn gripped it at the bottom with her other hand and with outreached arms she observed the feathers flickering. Three on the right, three on the left and three that hung at it's obvious bottom.

A gust of wind blew hard. Lynn glanced first at her drink then at the feathers that took flight. Sailing outward while attached, nine feathers danced in the calming breeze then lay to gravity's hold and softly flickered to stillness.

Lynn gazed at its center webbing of interlaced leather with various bead sequences. White, green then white again in several spaced out areas of the leather's web spun tied knots. It was as if they tried to recreate a spider's web in the center of a long thin limb that was encircled then tied to create a loop. In this case it was worn and oblong.

The feathers were the lure, three rows of three feathers. Long white and black feathers with a different color bead tied to each quill. Lynn ran her fingers through their soft length several times.

"It is a Dream-Snare," the old woman said loud and clear. Lynn looked at the old Indian woman more impressed with her breaking her silence than her sharp clear voice.

"How much is it?" Lynn asked.

"Twenty dollars," the woman replied.

"Twenty dollars for a stick, feathers and leather with beads?" Lynn laid the Dream Catcher down and placed the rock back over the feathers after one last long stroke with her fingers. "It looks like a spider web and ... I hate spiders."

"It will keep you safe when you dream. It can mirror the web of your life and help to untangle your life. It is good medicine." The Old Indian woman smiled as she got up from her seat.

"For twenty dollars? I'll let Prozac deal with my life." Lynn mumbled under her breath as the old Indian woman walked beside Lynn and took her by the arm gently. Leading Lynn back to the table.

"For you ... ten dollars," the old Indian woman said. She let go of Lynn's arm and reached across the table. Picked up the rock that lay on the feathered trinket, raised the Dream Catcher and turned. She handed it to Lynn as if certain she would go for the price reduction.

"Ten dollars?" Lynn said reluctant and with a calculating mind. She finally surmised the ten dollars would be a donation to the old woman's benefit more than a purchase. Lynn retrieved her wallet from her purse. Took the Trinket from this little old lady and tucked it under her arm, reluctantly. Then pulled a ten dollar bill out and handed it to the woman.

"Thank You," the old woman said kindly with a large smile. She took the bill from Lynn's hand. Holding her hand for a moment, the old woman then patted Lynn's hand in a humbling, thank you jest. Placing the ten-dollar bill in her bra, the woman turned and arranged some items, giving the rock a new job.

Lynn tucked her wallet into her purse then shoulder strapped it snug. She took the Trinket from under her arm and held it out slightly. A light breeze was cueing the feathers to flicker. Lynn half-smiled at her purchase, the dream catcher. It was worn with age, but it was entrancing to look upon.

The wind whipped a teasing gust and Lynn pulled the feathers and ring to her. "I better put this up before it flies away," Lynn said with a slight grin then started walking towards her Saab.

A dust devil swirled across the highway. The wind picked up and gust, Lynn turned her head and grasped her trinket tightly, making her way to the car.

"Bye," Lynn said as she opened the car door and lightly laid the trinket on the passenger seat. She climbed in the car and started the motor. Then glanced out at the Indian woman and waved. The woman waved back at Lynn as she sat down in her shaded chair.

Lynn pressed the clutch, slipped the shifter in gear and the vehicle rolled backward in a half circle turn. Lynn shifted and dumped the clutch causing a slight gravel spin from the tires and she was headed back out onto the highway.

The warm wind began whipping through the open windows of the car as she gained speed. Lynn shifted gears and brought the vehicle to a comfortable speed. The airflow through the car's interior began to tease and slap at the feathers of the dream catcher. Lynn quickly placed her purse gently over the flapping feathers and it held them.

Hot air swirled in currents that just seemed to heat up everything. Lynn pulled her blouse forward and reached up and unfastened her bra and began removing it from under her shirt. Swapping hands on the steering wheel, pulling arms through, then let out a small sigh of relief as she tossed the small white bra to the passenger side. Wiping her muggy sticky hot palms on her shirttail. Then exhaling a heavy load of hot air that made her cheeks swell, then subside.

Lynn gazed out across the desert as she speed down the empty and sizzling highway. Taking notice that there wasn't a cloud to be seen. There was no hope for shade from cloud cover. There wasn't even a buzzard, circling. 'Even they are smart enough to hide from the heat.' Lynn thought.

"That's what I'll do," Lynn said to herself. Realizing the heat was just too miserable to bear. The next motel she come to, she was checking into some air conditioning and checking out of this desert heat.