Chapter 22
Harrell Wade Harrison left Albuquerque on Wednesday with his sexual appetite satiated for the nonce. His father was pleased when Wade called just before departing to report that his special duties had been completed. As had been previously stipulated, no details of the westward journey were mentioned. Wade, however, did per instructions work in the code phrase that ‘the corn had been laid out to dry’ to let his pa know that the gal in Los Lunas had not shown up for the package, but that it had been securely stored.
His pa was surprisingly nonchalant when Wade explained his research in regard to Cabezón.
Apparently dismissing the silver bell caper from his mind, his pa was most complimentary as he stated, “Son, I’m absolutely pleased that you were able to pull all those assignments off so well. Don’t worry about Cabezón. It just wasn’t that big of a deal. You done good!”
“Thanks, pa. I tried my best.”
“Go ahead and take your time comin’ home if you want. Incidentally, start chargin’ all your expenses to that Visa card now. We don’t need to worry so much about leavin’ a trail.”
“That’s great, pa. My cash supply was getting worryingly low. I imagine I’ll be home in about a week.”
Heading north on I-25, Wade now wanted to get to Wyoming as fast as possible. He had his eye on a couple of roads in Colorado, but the highest paved road in the U.S. up Mt. Evans and the famous Trail Ridge Road, the highest continuous highway in the U.S., across Rocky Mountain National Park would have to wait for the trip back to Tennessee. Right now, getting a Moose Drool in the Tetons was paramount. Following that, perhaps, a quick run up to Triple Divide Peak in Glacier National Park in Montana might be in order. That’s where water flows from the same mountain down the Mississippi to the Gulf, down the Columbia to the Pacific, and down the Saskatchewan to Hudson Bay. Visiting Triple Divide Peak would fulfill one of his geographical imperatives.
At this juncture, he was now at Jackson Lake Lodge in Grand Teton National Park imbibing and thoroughly enjoying his first taste of regionally brewed Moose Drool beer. It was mid-afternoon and the dining room was essentially empty save that a skeleton serving crew was still on duty. He had heard that a large number of college kids formerly staffed the national parks in the summers, but, since they had a propensity to quit before the end of the season, concessionaires were now contracting with manpower agencies for seasonal workers from foreign countries. Wade noticed that his waitress had an accent unknown to him and that her nametag identified her only as Sasha.
Sasha stopped by his table and poured what little of his beer remained in the can to his glass. “Will you be wanting another?” she inquired.
“May I decide a little later? Are you about to close the dining room?” answered Wade. He was enjoying the fantastic view of the Tetons through the extra large perfectly sited windows and he was happy sitting there. The Moose impressed him.
“Oh no! We remain open all afternoon. Is this your first day here?” asked Sasha. She tarried at his table since there were no other customers at the moment.
“Yes, I just got a cabin at Colter Bay Village and the bar is closed until evenin’. I don’t mean this to sound intrusive or intimidatin’, but what ...how do you happen to be here?” Wade hoped he wasn’t being too forward.
Sasha confirmed what Wade already knew about the employment picture. She added, “It gives me the opportunity to see the United States and make far more money than I could in Romania.” This statement caught his attention because he had recently seen on TV a journalistic piece on human trafficking in Romania. Apparently it was rampant in the Balkans. He wondered if her arrangement was on the up and up. “The hours are reasonable and we get enough time off to run our own errands; not enough though to see the sights and we have no transportation.”
“I’ll be here for a couple days to see the scenery and then I’m off to Montana. I’m by myself. Forgive me, my name is Harrell Wade Harrison, but please call me Wade. If your schedule allows, I‘d be downright tickled to have some company to look around here and in Yellowstone before I hit the road again. What’s your schedule tomorrow?” asked Wade hopefully.
“I get off at ten in the morning for six hours and then I have to work again. Is that all right? My name is Sasha Comaneci, like the Olympic gymnast. We could meet in the lobby under the bison head if you like? Would that be permissible?” she asked.
“I’ll be here. That’s great. I guess I’m done with the Moose Drool, but if I may, and I know it sounds a little peculiar, I’d like to keep the can as a souvenir; what’s my tab?” Sasha returned with his bar bill. Wade left a tip as big as the bill and waved as he departed. Sasha smiled.
The next day’s rendezvous was perfect. He was right on time and she was waiting under the bison head just as arranged. He had the top down in his convertible and both were all smiles as he turned north towards Colter Bay and Yellowstone.