Chapter Twenty-Three
Michael Muller led the ranchers along the forest trail for the annual trail ride. They had left the ranch and had traveled north along the road for four miles then headed west along an old deserted road. They then headed north along the base of the hills before again heading west into a valley.
Along a stream's edge, they made their way up the valley, then, after rounding the hill, headed north again. Behind Michael rode Kirk, followed by Bobby, Mirabelle and Joseph. The quintet rode in silence, content to enjoy the beautiful fall morning. The signs of fall were all around: in the coolness in the air, the sight of farmworkers harvesting the fields, and in the busy squirrels and chipmunks who zealously prepared for the coming winter.
As they had rode beside the valley's stream, Michael would point to an occasional deer or other animal lurking nearby which if he hadn't, Mirabelle would have missed completely. In the subdued light of the forest, she took a deep breath of the cool fall air and wondered how her family was doing back in Ponderosa.
They headed north, now, towards a forested basin nestled between the hills.
As they neared it, Michael finally broke the morning's silence by saying, "Let's stop for lunch up ahead." Within moments of his suggestion, the forest gave way to a large clearing in the center of the basin which guarded the dilapidated remains of a ghost town.
"Oh, a ghost town!" exclaimed Mirabelle as her eyes came upon it. To her it was exciting and conversely novel.
"Yeah. Neat," Bobby responded. He hadn't visited a ghost town before.
"Let's go see if the old saloon is still standing," said Michael, "We could hitch up our horses and have lunch inside."
As they rode along, Mirabelle took a better look at the town. It consisted of one thoroughfare, now overgrown with grasses, and two rows of approximately fifteen buildings. Many of the buildings had fallen into complete disrepair and their collapsed roofs and gaping holes now sheltered only wild animals.
In the center of the little town stood the saloon. It was two-stories tall and remained in remarkably good condition. Even the weathered hitching post still stood before the saloon's boardwalk.
"This is a big saloon," remarked Mirabelle as she looked up at its second storey.
"It must have been a hotel as well, Mirabelle," replied Michael.
"I wonder if the bartender is still around?" said Kirk, jesting, "I wouldn't mind a drink right now and I can pay for it, too."
Mirabelle smirked. Kirk seemingly had to make a joke out of everything. There was a point, however, where his constant quips made her feel less like laughing and more like shoving his hat into his mouth. She said to him, "You know Kirk, if you weren't so good-natured you could be downright annoying."
"Just be thankful he doesn't have a song and dance act to go along with his routine," perceptively added Joseph, who had rode up beside her.
The ranchers dismounted before the saloon and tied their horses to the post. One by one they entered the saloon through its swinging wooden doors.
Dust and cobwebs blanketed the inside of the saloon in thick, musty layers. Desiccated leaves, pine needles and grasses were also strewn about where the wind had blown them in and deposited them. There wasn't a single table or chair in the entire place.
"Look's like this bottle still has something in it," said Kirk, who had walked up to the bar to inspect its contents.
"If you drunk that it would probably kill you," Mirabelle admonished him.
"Only if I'm lucky," he answered, "The hangover would probably be worst."
Seeing the place to be inhospitable, Michael suggested, "Let's go have lunch on the front porch. There are two benches there." He led the way out and the four others followed.
After taking their lunches out of their saddle bags, the ranchers sat down and began to eat. A gentle breeze blew through the street causing the grasses to dance in gentle waves while insects hopped from blade of grass to blade of grass.
They ate silently, each content to mull their own thoughts in their minds
and to enjoy the beauty of the day. When the sandwiches were all eaten, Mirabelle got up and served the men coffee from some thermos bottles.
"Thanks, Mirabelle," said Joseph as he lifted his mug to her.
"Yeah," responded Bobby, "At least you make a decent cup of coffee."
Mirabelle decided to take that remark as a compliment.
Having filled her mug, Mirabelle sat down between Kirk and Bobby and blew on her coffee to cool it. As she sipped her coffee, she looked at the building opposite of the saloon. From between the horses, she could see that it was a one-storied building, wooden and falling apart like all the others. It appeared to have once been a general store.
Mirabelle began to wonder what the owner had been like and soon found herself trying to imagine the town in its heyday: all the buildings sparklingly new and the streets filled with people. "Had there lived a woman like me in this town," she mused, "trying to find her way in a wild and woolly world?" The hustle and bustle of everyday life, the busy activities of the town's denizens were, however, only a dream now--a ghostly memory playing in her mind.
A strong breeze picked up and blew through the street causing the doors of the saloon to swing noisily in and out, squeaking furiously on their rusted metal hinges.
"This is all that's left of a dream," Michael said as though in response to the wind. Maybe a ghost had entered the saloon and had whispered something to Michael on the way in.
"It kind of makes you wonder what it all amounts to," declared Kirk, reflectively. "Life ain't nothing more than a hill of beans," he said, answering his own question.
"What kind of attitude is that?" Mirabelle asked Kirk. She felt a bit angry. She felt that such an outlook was so pessimistic.
"I don't make the facts, ma'am. I just report them," answered Kirk. "Update, tonight at six," he added.
Mirabelle she shook her head. "Ah, Kirk," she sighed, wistfully. He was almost as bad as her brother.
"What do you mean this is all that's left of a dream, Michael?" asked Bobby.
"People came here dreaming of making a fortune in silver. People dreamed of building this town and built it. And when they left," answered Michael as he looked at the crumbling buildings around him, "all they left behind were their dreams."
"Where are they now?" Joseph asked Michael, who was sitting beside him.
"Dreaming other dreams," he answered.
Michael lifted his mug up to his mouth and finished the last of his coffee, then said, "Before you know it, winter will already be here." He paused then continued, "Let's head back." He stood up, walked towards his horse and put his mug away.
The others got up and followed Michael's lead. They untied their horses, pulled themselves into their saddles and rode out of town. As they left the ghost town behind them, another strong breeze whistled past them and carried the town away.
