*** Six ***
I had the Blazer serviced and filled with gas and was on the road by nine in the morning, plenty of time.
I called Ramos on the way out; all was well, no problems.
I punched up an audio file on the geography of the Columbia River Gorge and listened as the miles clicked away.
I remembered an old film of wagon trains being lowered hundreds of feet down to the river. How very hard life was back then. They were strong, hardy people.
I signed in to a decent Motel, showered, and arrived at ‘Andy’s’ just before eight.
There was a double diagonal parking space, room to hook up a trailer. I parked so as to take up both spaces.
A voice from the shadows as I approached the entrance to the restaurant startled me.
“Wondered if you would remember that.”
“Guess that’s why you mentioned a two inch ball?”
“Mad Mardigan.”
“Captain Jack.”
“Good Prime Beef, here.”
“I’m all for that.”
It was a leisurely meal and an excellent one, thick, tender juicy Rib Eyes steak, a huge Idaho potato and just enough alcohol to ease the expected tension.
Throughout the meal, in no hurry at all, he would scribble a word on a napkin, show it to me, then soak the napkin in his glass of water.
I would write a number, he would write a price and we would silently haggle, with nods and head shakes.
“That’s a lot of money.”
‘That’s a lot of gear. I have a small gift for you, as everything seems in order.”
I took what appeared to be a small ring case out of my inner jacket pocket and handed it to him.
He smiled as he opened it. “Sure is a purdy color, ain’t it?”
I smiled back. “It certainly is. That would be my preference for a payment method.”
“And mine as well.”
He gave the waiter a hundred dollar bill but did not say, ‘keep the change’, the tip would have been overmuch.
