* * * *
We met early, packing our final belongings.
Everyone was there to see us off. Some from both groups gave short speeches, and I waited until the end to start.
“Beatrice,” I started, “you are the glue that holds the Raton Pass Militia together. I know Dean would be proud to see how you have all cared for each other and for us. Please remember that all of these gifts are from us all as a thank-you for sheltering us during our much-needed travel break. Beatrice, Joy and I were saving this for a special occasion, and we think this is truly one of those.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense!” she said. “What is it?”
“It’s a bottle of Hennessy 50-year old cognac from Cognac, France. My grandfather was stationed there in the mid-1950s, and they had a program where any family could purchase an entire barrel of cognac and return on the 50th year to have it bottled and shipped abroad. In 2006 we took a family trip to France and watched them bottle our barrel. What you are holding is the second to last bottle in our family. I remember David telling me in college that you enjoyed a cognac every now and then.”
“This will be a treasure,” Beatrice said, holding it close. “Thank you.”
“David,” I continued, “you lead this group with honor and integrity. You have created a new family and agreed to love and cherish your new bride all of your days. Veronica and Suzie have gained a caring mom, dad, and older brother. And I know they have chosen wisely.”
I held up my hand, and Mike roared around the new greenhouse on one of the Indian motorcycles. It was shining like it was brand new.
“David, Mike secured this bike not long ago, and Sheila has been secretly working on it half the night. This Indian is in top shape, and she’s yours.”
David was excited, and his new girls were already asking for a ride from Daddy.
“Last, but certainly not least…Mel, your bravery and gadgets gave us a fighting chance more than once. What do you get the man who has everything?”
Joy looked at Katie and Jonah and winked. Handing the folded dish towel in her hands to Mel, he wasn’t sure what to think.
He opened it to see the backside of a white coffee mug.
“Oh, I get it; I like coffee,” he announced. “Wait a minute,” he spoke loudly. “David gets a motorcycle, and all I get is a lousy...”
He glanced at Katie and Jonah, both gesturing for him to turn the cup around.
As he slowly turned the cup towards him, his voice trailed off.
“Oh, oh…” is all that came out quietly.
Tears filled his eyes as he turned the cup around for all to see. Everyone paused, with nobody speaking.
It read “The World’s Best New Daddy” and was signed by Katie and Jonah.
He held out both arms, and they ran to him, along with Tammy.
“Now I have everything,” he replied, still teary-eyed.
“I have a gift for you, from all of us, of course,” he said. “Tammy, please do the honors.”
She slid a dark sheet off the brightly illuminated television, with a DVD combo player.
“It’s not the 72-inch, but it’s a 40, complete with battery packs, and the kids can pick any ten movies out of the lot. Any ones you want except for The Princess Bride,” he announced, as he winked at Katie.
The children (and adults) were all very excited.
“Hold on. Hold on. We also have egg burritos,” announced Beatrice. “Last time you had them, you were able to fight off the forces of evil, and now it will carry you across the first miles of your journey north.”
Lucy and Joy explained the “Hendrix Count” to our new travelers, so no child would ever get left behind.
At exactly 9:07 a.m., we left Raton Pass, New Mexico—once again headed for the unknown.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-nine
North of Raton Pass, New Mexico
Lonnie again took the lead with his truck and trailer, and Mike brought up the rear.
It was a good formation that got us here, and adding one truck and trailer to the middle of the caravan didn’t change much.
The dirt road back to the Interstate was quite different from when we had come through the first time.
I had heard from Adan about their drive in, including the fact that the guards we encountered blocking the entrance of Raton Pass were no longer there.
“I’m sure the Baker group just plowed through them without any negotiation,” I told him.
This road we were on now was open, with many of the trees and bushes scorched by the recent fire.
The short afternoon rains, typical of this area in the spring and summer, put out the last remaining embers.
We stopped briefly ten miles up, at the I-25 junction, to discuss the barricade we had already paid for passage through but many of us thought would not still be there.
“Okay, everyone,” said Lonnie. “We’re headed north, and if we’re lucky our ‘rabbits,’ as Lance calls them, are racing ahead and drawing out the problems.”
“I think this is more like the ‘running of the bulls,’” I said, referring to the yearly event in Pamplona, Spain, where usually six bulls run through crowded streets, with spectators testing their bravery and running alongside. In the end, anyone in their way would be injured or trampled without a second thought.
* * * *
With that, we headed slowly down the backside of Raton Pass.
I was up on the trailer with Jake and Vlad and realized I had missed the cross-country travel.
The scenery couldn’t be beat, and I was reasonably sure
