Rendezvous II - Cover

Rendezvous II

Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen

Chapter 40

Karen

In the morning I signed the Lottery Ticket and stashed it back in the cash box.

The drawing for the Monster Millions was at 8:59pm Mountain Daylight Time Wednesday night. The Drawing was actually held in Tallahassee, Florida at the National Headquarters.

Monster Millions is a 5/75 with a 1/15 monster ball. The first five numbers are done with actual balls in a bingo 75 ball wire roller cage. The monster ball is taken from a separate bingo 15 ball roller cage. The mixing is through a blast of air keeping the balls in suspension while the cage is rolling. When the air blast is cut off the cage rolls until five balls are in the chute. The first five balls in the chute are what counts and the monster ball is from the second cage.

No computers involved. Very fair. Witnesses are chosen at random from the Voting population of the United States. The lottery pays witness airline fare, hotel stay and meals. Random witnesses are Registered Voters and can come from states that don’t allow Lottery.

“The first number is 42.” That ball was withdrawn from the chute, displayed and placed on a little pedestal. Each ball was enthroned in turn.

“The second number is 1”

“Ball number 3 is 44”

“Number 19 is the 4th number.”

“The final number is number 43”

“The Monster Ball is number 15.”

“One, nineteen, forty two, forty three, forty four. and the monster ball is fifteen.”

“Witnesses ... are you in agreement?”

Various nods and yeses all round.

“Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen. This concludes the Monster Ball drawing for tonight. The next drawing is Saturday at 10:59 PM Eastern Daylight Time. Winners have 180 days to come forward. Thank you and goodnight.”

“Lunch in Three Forks?” I said.

“What?” said Angie, “You won? What? a thousand?”

“Lunch in Three Forks?” I repeated... “Or drive straight through?”

“Oh, Hell,” said Angie. “Go for it. Drive straight through.” She was laughing though. Karen hadn’t even looked at the ticket ... how did she know she’s won?

After the drawing, we had gone back to the pool and soaked some more. I discovered I liked imported beer ... a lot. I couldn’t stand the light and bitter American brews, but I liked the heavier, darker, hoppier British ales and stouts. I made several trips to the office ... I think. We invited Roy to join us in our merry making.

The pool started clearing out about 12:30. It was a workday today ... tomorrow ... in the morning. After we were the last ones out, April came in, turned on the lights and searched the wood floor of the springs for bottles and caps ... never one to escape my civic duty I jumped in and helped. I didn’t find many bottles ... I did find several condoms ... EWW!

The three of us went back to the tipi and talked ... and finished off the last six-pack. Roy had something most of the college students didn’t ... a job. He was responsible ... and older. Roy sat and chatted for a bit.

“I have to go to a University dig north of Three Forks in the morning. I need to get home so I can get some rest.”

I said, “Just sleep here tonight. We have plenty of room.”

Roy fetched his blanket roll from his unrestored 1957 Chevy Suburban and unrolled it. By the time he had it unrolled and laid out, the girls had a small fire going ... to run off the mosquitoes.

“God,” said Roy, “ ... I need one of these. Is it much trouble to set up?”

“Less time than a wall tent unless you have a basket full of help,” I said.

“Hard to learn?”

“Not really,” I confessed. “The first time took me 40 minutes reading the book as I went. Next try was 30 minutes including checking the book when I got lost.”

“How about this set?”

“I had a newby,” I said. “For somebody who has a dad who rendezvous regularly ... she took some explaining.”

Angie spoke up, “Daddy never let us help ... said we’d just get in the way. He never got a set as good looking as this though.”

“Book?” Roy queried.

“The Indian Tipi, Gladys and Reginald Laubin. I have a copy in hardcover you can borrow ... I’ll hunt your ass down if you don’t give it back,” I said.

“Cost much?”

“This one is Hairy’s. He bought it last year,” I said, “Three hundred forty five dollars delivered. 18 foot cover, five foot liner and two doors. All the ropes, pegs, pins and marbles included. I fetched my own poles. There are poles in the cottonwood at home.”

“Who is Hairy?” asked Roy.

I explained the hitch hiking and the rescue at a truck stop, my choice to stay at the rented cabin, the winter, high school in Ranchester, and then college. The storm was harder and the assault at the cabin was close to imposssible.

“I’m a licensed small plane pilot and I’ve been restoring at least one of a pair of warbirds.”

“Why here?”

“I’m looking for something and I don’t know what it is,” I said. “I have become enamored of the area. It might be here.”

“What?”

“If I knew I’d be there.”

I put a few sticks on the fire and changed the subject.

“I want my own lodge so ... I imagine I’ll drive back to Minnesota and buy a couple. I want to try balsam fir poles and the Minnesota or north Wisconsin woods are the best place for them.”

“If I give you money will you pick one up for me?” Roy asked.

“I would ... if I was sure I was going. Why?”

“Our Principal Investigator is searching for proof that the Land Bridge existed ... or disprove its existence. Mainstream thinking is that there was an ice free corridor between the Hudson Bay Ice Cap and the intermountain glaciers. The intermountain part is proved by Lake Missoula ... Davis has yet to find the “breakout” in Plains Montana. The site north of Three Forks is Pelican Lake,” he said. “It’s too late to be Paleo but it’s a great place to train budding archaeologists. We’re running a two week summer school. I’d like a tipi for the digs.”

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