Beyond the Setting Sun

Nyquil High and the Exploding Nun

'Jus' go on in.'  I entered the dim house of Pat Luther, to be confronted by two armed men.  They held rifles.  Worried, I looked back at Pat.

'This is ma son Les and this is Dale, ma husband.'  The two men shook my hand, still holding their rifles.  Other handguns and rifles were laid out on the floor, along with an assortment of knives and ammunition.

'What's all this... oh, I'm Colin by the way.'  I was still taken aback by the collection of weapons that filled the room.

'We're off huntin' in the breaks and draws tomorrow; jus' checkin' our gear.'  Dale was big, with a large moustache, and Les, his son, was obviously a body-builder - over six feet tall and really broad across the shoulders.

'I was getting worried, thought you might be out to kidnap me or something.'

Pat smiled.  'Who said we were going ta let ya go?  Say, you hungry?'

'Starving!' I said.

'Ever had pheasant?' Pat asked.

'No.  Pheasant's pretty expensive in England.'

'Heck, we've got pheasant, venison, caviar... it's all out there for the taking.  Takes a bit of findin', but it's free.'  Dale beamed a smile that said how much he liked having things to shoot and catch on the end of a line.

'Caviar?'  I wondered if there were sturgeon up here.

'Yep... comes from the paddle fish.  There's only two places in the world ya get paddle fish.  One's the Yangtse River in China, t'other's the Missouri.  They're big... like sturgeon, 'bout six feet long when fullgrown.  Caught me a five-footer in the summer; it was hell ta bring in.  We've still got some of the caviar in the freezer... black fish eggs is all it is, but it's what they make all that fuss about back East.'

'You can have some deer jerky ta take with ya, too.  I'll get supper on.  We've got a dance down at the school - it's the Knights of Columbus Church Dance.  I've told everyone about ya, Colin, you'll have ta come along.'  Pat had my schedule planned.

'Ok Pat, you're the boss.'  I pictured the dance as a quiet affair, with lots of homemade lemonade, jello salad and square-dancing.  The Luthers had arranged for me to talk down at the church before the dance and an article about me had been placed in the local Williston newspaper.

Williston was at the wild western edge of North Dakota, on a bend of the Missouri River, above Lake Sakakawea.  The land of Lewis and Clarke lay ahead.  The Luthers were eating at the dance, but Pat fixed me up the pheasant, with some potatoes, carrots and peas.  I picked a few bits of lead shot from the pheasant, but otherwise it was wonderful.

Six people turned up that evening to hear me speak.  In the end we sat around a table.  The six were Sister Anita Wolf, Dr. Hagen, his wife, a young man in his twenties called Gary Falcon, who'd heard me talk on the radio, a local priest and an elderly lady who had just walked into the church.  The sister worked at the local hospital and provided special care for the terminally ill.  Dr. Hagen was involved in caring for the terminally ill too.  We talked about the hospice concept and the possibility of developing a hospice outreach program in Williston.  The nearest hospice was Minot, but that was one hundred and twenty miles to the east.  I told the small gathering what I'd seen in hospices along the way and urged them to find more people who would be interested in forming a group at Williston.

Family and church took care of many of the people's needs out here, but there was still a need for special pain control, social work and counselling.  After an hour's talk the meeting came to an end.  I said I would keep in touch and see them on my journey back.  As everyone else left, the young man, Gary Falcon, stayed.