After an early breakfast and sad goodbyes again Lewis and I start back towards Cottonbaugh. He loads a box into the back of the car just before we leave. As we drive by Cowpaugh we see workers putting more posters on the fence posts. My uncle tells people he lives in Cottonbaugh but he really lives in Oilbaugh. He started working in the oil fields there after he left school early. Over time he learned to be an ‘oil tool’ machinist and after some more years was able to start his own shop. He still does some work for the oil fields but has mostly turned the day to day working of the shop over to some of the machinists who have worked for him for years. I first learned how to be a machinist there starting when I was about eight years old. When I wanted to earn money for college he made me work in the oil fields first to fully understand what oil tools had to do. I learned that after months of cuts and bruises. When we arrived at the Cottonbaugh sign again we made the turn on the main intersection east towards Oilbaugh.

As we leave Cottonbaugh we go over the bridge that crosses the Baugh River and soon ahead we see the gateway. Over the road is the large Oilbaugh sign supported by two high towers designed to look like oil wells. At night the towers are lighted up with the oil well design outlined in red. The Oilbaugh letters are outlined in white. The gate is wide and high enough to allow large oil carrying trucks to pass underneath. A police car is parked near the gate. It has an oil well design on the side of the car and a small oil well on the top of the car with a red light on top. We wave at the policeman and he waves back. The road to town is lined with oil wells. We see more oil wells beyond. The whole area is covered with oil wells and is in a very wide canyon. And nothing else. No trees. But out at the very edge I think I see a few lines of cows walking by.

The town is small and looks much any other town with fields of oil wells beyond the businesses along the street. We drive by the small buildings of the town and then by the small houses of the workers and on towards Uncle’s place. At the far side of town we see the industrial buildings that have the equipment that make the oil wells work. We drive into the familiar yard for Uncles’ shop. He lives in a house he built on the top of the back part of his shop. There is a stairway and an outside lift to his level. I notice that now there is also a ramp that comes down from a doorway next to the top of the stairs. The ramp goes over at an angle and connects to the road. The doorway at the top of the ramp is open. And so is the door at the top of the stairs. We get out of the car and Lewis takes out the box he loaded when we left Raisinbaugh.

“Up jumped the Devil!” is the greeting we heard when we got to the top of the stairs knocked and walked in. And to Lewis “You look better than the last time I saw you?” I didn’t know he had visited Lewis. “Tell the Boss I really liked that wine he gave me.” Lewis brings the box forward and places it on a table. “My father says you might want to make sure none of this has gone bad since then.” Uncle walks over and opens the box. “I’ll give it the most careful tasting I can manage. And just for special occasions” as he opens one bottle and reaches for four glasses. Four? As he pours wine in each glass he looks at me “So you come see your old uncle. Finally. Now that you took nearly all my furniture. Lucky I don’t have to sleep on the floor.” He hands Lewis and I a glass. “I am alone now you know. Getting older. Don’t get much visitors. No man should be alone.” And so on. We sip the wine. Good. Just then a woman slightly older than Lewis and I comes out of the back of the house. Her hair is the color of copper coins. She is wearing a shorter skirt with high boots that have wheels on the bottom. She is carrying several shopping bags. She picks up the final glass of wine and tastes it. She looks at Lewis and me and says “you been up to Raisinbaugh.” Then finishing the glass she says to Uncle, “I’m going to do some shopping. Get out in the air. You boys have a good time today and give a call if you end up in jail.” Then she starts off on the wheels towards the open door and goes out and down the ramp yelling with joy as she continues onto the street towards Cottonbaugh. Uncle smiles.

“This is good for you city boys to come to Ag Valley to get some real food before you get back to The Basin.” I know where we are going now as we go downstairs to get in Uncle’s truck. He brings the rest of the bottle with us. And puts another in a bag he carries. As we start on the road Uncle says “I hope we don’t pass Ruby. She will try to race us.” We don’t see her as we come to the road that we turn off on that leads to the old part of Cottonbaugh by the railroad tracks. As I hoped we are going to the large restaurant run by people who herd the sheep in the hills locally. When you walk in you first smell food being cooked on wood fires in large open ovens along the far back wall. The walls are covered with photos of sheep herds and camps and sheep people. Some herders are in from the fields drinking wine in small groups by the large fireplace along the wall. Some are playing cards. Others are making music on small instruments. At times young sheep come inside through a back door from the large pasture behind and wander around the tables until the black and white sheep dog that lies by the fireplace herds them back outside again. The restaurant serves everyone at long tables in the large dining area. You don’t choose anything from a list. You eat what they bring you. The restaurant has a name but people always call it “Last Wish”. That because it would be everyone’s ‘last wish’ to come there for another meal if they could only do one thing more before they died.

As we walk in the owner sees us and comes over to greet Uncle. Uncle picks up a glass from a table and pours the owner some of the wine. He tastes it and says “you just been up to Rasinbaugh. I hope you got more than that one bottle.” Then he looks carefully at Lewis for a long moment. “That would be you. Say hello to your father for me.” Uncle hands the owner the other bottle we brought. He thanks Uncle and takes us over to one of the tables with smiling happy people seated already. There are a few places left. We are near the large open pit in the middle of the dining area where there is a fire on cold winter days. There are bits of color on everything from the sun shining through the stained glass windows high on the walls. The light flickers as the clouds pass by. As we sit the food quickly comes. Served by young women with sheepskin caps with ears formed on the top. Soups and stews. Platters piled with meat. Plates loaded with fresh vegetables just cooked over a fire. Baskets with bread hot from the oven. Bottles of vine. Bottles of sauces. More bottles of wine.

As we are eating and talking we notice a man and a woman (in a cotton print dress like women wear in The Region or LoneStar) sitting across from us. He is well-dressed in LoneStar style. He looks very angry. He starts to talk and pretty much all the people around him have no choice but to listen. ‘We are losing all our freedoms. The government is taking away all our freedoms. You think they could leave an honest man alone.’ The woman, his wife I guess, is trying to comfort him. ‘Where will it end’ he continues. He is sobbing. ‘What more can they want from us?’ The people seated around look at one another. He stops and just when the people around us start to relax and talk together he starts again. ‘What more? I have given all I can.’ I wonder if I say something to him he can say finally what is bothering him and then he can feel better and stop talking.

“Is it about water?” I ask. I hear slight noises from both Uncle and Lewis as they put their hands up to shade their eyes, scoot down in their chairs, and move a little away from me. The people around me look shocked. Some get ready to leave. Most look away. There is fear. The man reaches down to his side like he is carrying a gun but brings his hand back up when he remembers he isn’t. He looks at his empty hand with disgust. I try to smile. He looks at me and says “I’m baring my soul here boy!” His wife is holding on to him. The others at the table are staying still. I stay still and smile. “Yes it’s about water. And I am going to tell you about it you big headed…and if you better be crying by the time I have finished telling!” His wife gives me a slight smile. I listen quietly.

(continued on Page 4)

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