Rendezvous
somewhere in the rockies,1999
In case you have never been to one, let me explain.
There are folks out here, where I am that live in the past, they do this for a living.
They are called buckskinners, and they participate in a marvelous thing called Rendezvous.
Now just what is that?
Its living history, 1700 to 1840.
People dress and live like they did in that time period., right down to the same kind of food and etensils that were used.
Now I'm not saying that what I'm going to say happened, but I'm sure if you asked a fellow skinner about it..well he'd probably say it did.
Up here its easy to forget what year it is, everywhere you look white canvas tents blend into the surrounding trees.
Children wade in the gentle running creek catching minnows with homemade nets.
Fires under cast irons pots slowly cook the evening meal, ladies stirring and laughing.
Its Friday evening in camp, its Rendezvous.
Until you wander into one of these, either on purpose or by accident, will you ever begin to imagine the scene.
Red Bird finished pounding the last stake into the hard rocky ground.
She could smell the coffee as it slowly began to boil in the old enamelware pot, she knew soon she'd get her first customer.
That smell drifting on the evening air would draw ole two smokes from his trade tent to her's anytime now.
A broad smile formed on her face, this was the best time of the rendezvous.
Tent up coffee ready, the sound of a faint guitarists off in the distance.
A smiling face peeked out from behind tent flaps, looked over towards Redbird and waved. He knew he'd smelled something.
He could always count on her, coffee was always ready and waiting at her place.
He wondered how she put up with her regular job, couldn't imagine being a legal anything..Let alone work for some blood sucking attorney.
But Two Smokes wasn't gonna hold that against her. She didn't hold his job against him, but selling used trucks was all he knew how to do. Besides, it made him just enough money to keep him in trade goods. And what good was a trader if he didn't have goods. Antiques, especially old firearms, that was the other love of his life. His first love, well?
Sauntering over to her wall tent with cup outstretched. Redbird knew what to do. She met him coming in with coffeepot in hand.
"Sit down before you fall down, I'm not about to try pouring it while your moving."
Two Smokes plopped himself down on one of the waiting chairs and sat the enamelware cup in the middle of the table,"If you get any of that on me, why it'll eat plump through my leathers."
"It would probably do them good, they have to be the sorriest piece of buckskins I've ever laid my hands on. Sure hope you make enough money to get some new ones before they dissasemble right off your body."
Two smokes picked up the cup casually changing hands, it was so hot that most of these kinds of cups had been nicknamed"Three second cups." Made for some interesting spills around her little fry bread shop.
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