Plan C: Chapter IV

Plan C: South Pass

Lizzie stepped out of the car and breathed deeply. While she loved the thrill of the fast-paced life she lived in New York she had to admit, she was a Wyoming girl at heart. One thing she realized she had missed living back east was the mountains. How the crisp cool air could snap your lungs to attention. She had a small reminder when she arrived late spring in town but today, back in the Wind River Range, she realized just how much she missed the mountains. This place where she currently stood was truly one of her favorite spots.

She heard the car door shut behind her and she turned to see her father standing next to the car. He looked tired but that’s how he had been looking lately. He noticed her looking at him and gave a small smile. “Don’t worry about me,” he said while waving his cane around. “I may be moving a bit slower but it’s not a race today.”

Lizzie forced a warm smile back. “I’m not worried,” which was technically a small lie since worrying was a given these days. “I just was seeing if you need help.”

“Not yet,” he said. “But give me a minute or two and I might take you up on the offer.”

She looked at her father and forced herself not to show any pity in her eyes because she knew how much he hated that look. But the fact of the matter was, her once larger than life father whose booming voice and giant bear hugs once seemed to ward off any attack the world could send her way now looked feeble. Just in the past few weeks, he had lost over 100 pounds and his voice had become reserved.

And now they stood in the dirt parking lot right next to the ghost town of South Pass. Chuck invited Matt to join them and Lizzie insisted he should. But Matt said he had obligations and couldn’t get away. Sharon also declined the invite. Deep down though, Lizzie figured they both knew this was a special family spot and didn’t want to intrude. As far as she knew, her father wasn’t a particularly religious man but this spot was nearly sacred to him. While he had shared many stories of experiences he had with the area, Lizzie always felt like there was some connection so deep he simply could not share all the details.

“Shall we go in?” she asked.

He nodded and they paid the admission fee to enter.

“Imagine,” he said. “Having to pay for something that I used to get to do for free.” It was the same complaint Lizzie heard every time they visited.

“I know,” she said and didn’t counter with her usual argument of how the money was used to maintain and build up the site.

They walked slowly, arm in arm down the dusty street. A few other families were there and kids were running in and out of the old buildings. The two of them didn’t stop at any other building until they got to the end.

Across of the Esther Hobart Morris cabin was a small log cabin that didn’t draw a lot of attention. But it was the one cabin Chuck always insisted they visit. At one time, his grandparents owned it and it was this very cabin he spent that summer with his grandparents in. When the town became a registered state historic site, his grandparents donated the cabin instead of moving it off-site. His grandmother requested that the cabin be known at the Carter Family cabin. Of course, that was long forgotten. Another name, much more historic than a long-forgotten family was displayed inside.

Chuck peeked in the display and stood there for several moments. Lizzie waited for his usual spiel about how the only history associated with it was a Civil War veteran who had lived there at one time and nothing about the Carter family. ‘There’s more to history than just the Civil War,’ he would say. ‘How about all the memories of a family and one perfect summer?’ She waited for him to say all that but he never did.

“There used to be a kitchen,” he said softly. “It was there,” he used his cane to point to the side. “Had to use the outhouse which was up on the hill. But I never liked using it at night. Talk about a dark and lonely walk. It usually was a bit chilly at night, too. So, if I could help it, I would try to hold it in until morning.” His voice trailed off.

“I don’t blame you,” Lizzie said but she wasn’t sure if he even heard her or was aware she was still there. He was still lost in some memory.

“Grandma made the best eggs,” he continued and closed his eyes. “I can almost smell them.”

Lizzie nodded her head and backed out. She decided to let him have some space to say his goodbye in his way. She looked at the small town and took a deep breath. It was good to be here today. Maybe she could include it somehow in a future podcast? Esther Hobart Morris was the first female justice of the peace in the United States. Maybe she could find out something about one of her cases after she finished wrapping up her current podcast about the coal camp woman on trial for murdering her husband. The podcast had started out as a diversion but she quickly grew to enjoy it. Surely, there was some way to keep it going.

After several minutes, Chuck stepped out and joined her. He wiped his eyes and used a Kleenex to blow his nose. “You okay?” she asked.

He nodded and looked back at the cabin. She put her arm through his and they stepped closer to the building. He closed his eyes and put his hand on the wall. It was as if he was attempting to soak up any loose memories that he may have forgotten. They stood there for a few more minutes. Normally, she would have felt a bit self-conscious since they were just standing there with his hand on the wall but today she didn’t care. If this is how her father needed to say goodbye then so be it.

Finally, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes. He nodded his head slowly and turned to her. “I’m ready to go home,” he said.

Ever since her cry session in the kitchen, she had been able to be strong. But this brought the tears to her eyes. She took a deep breath before they could fall. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go home.” They started to walk back down the road. “But we are still stopping in Farson for ice cream.”

“Obviously,” he said weakly. “I mean I’m not dead yet.” And then he laughed until he coughed. “Too soon?” he asked after he cleared his throat.

She squeezed his arm tighter. “Maybe a little bit, dad.” But she was relieved he was able to laugh again even if his humor was still somewhat off.