Prairie Moon: Blue Moon Bar and Café

By R.L. Mata

Two roads converge and two journeys end at a small, unpromising town called Stoneridge on the high plains of northeast Colorado. Roy Mathis is headed there by car, his head full of inchoate memories and reveries in search of his father, his sister, and context for a fragmented life. Fleeing his mother, who refuses to tell him anything that would help him in his quest, Roy sets his sights on the only desperate hope for a clue in the forgotten whistle-stop town.

Father Fritz has arrived in another way: he has been banished. Though his notorious conduct with young charges has been exposed, Fritz has been up to much worse, as only he knows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648012570

Book preview

Chapter 1

The sound of someone walking on the old sidewalk broke the stillness of the early morning. During the night, a silent snow left a mixture of ice hardened by the wind that brought the storm into town.

A woman walked by the church, then turned and saw the priest sitting in his wheelchair facing the door of his home. It’s as if he is trying to remember what he forgot. Something isn’t right.

Father, she calls out. How can I help you? Did you forget to pick up what you need for mass this morning?

Nothing. The rector does not acknowledge her. She sees a layer of snow covering him. She continues to walk toward the parish house, walking over where she assumes the sidewalk might be if someone had swept the stretch up to the porch.

As she steps up the small ramp, she calls out again, Father.

She comes alongside him and observes pieces of ice around his eyes. It’s as if tears have frozen onto his face. His beard sparkles. There is no sign of recognition that he knows she is standing next to him.

The woman reaches for his hand. It is icy to the touch. She shakes him and calls out his name. Still, no acknowledgment on his part. Horrified, she realizes he is dead. Nothing she says or does changes his expression. He continues to stare at the crucifix above the doorbell. His eyes and the slight parting of his lips make him appear to be saying, Father, why has thou forsaken me?

Chapter 2

Compulsion is a funny thing. There are many twists and turns of the mental blade inside one’s head. If you move its imaginary edge to the left, flashes of images speed past, making clicking sounds, as if from an old 16mm movie projector. To your right, only one picture. Is this where you want to travel?

Close your eyes. Before, everything was blurry. Now, you have crystal clarity. It’s a place you’ve never seen, a memory that’s not your own, an image with a sepia trace—as if from a book printed a century ago. As you scan the perimeter, a main street complete with dilapidated buildings attracts your attention. At least three stand out—a church, an old hotel, and a café sitting next to a highway. To the north, you make out a cemetery surrounded by a grove of trees without leaves. The evening is overcast.

Here’s where you use the best of your mental abilities. You manipulate the picture and it comes to life. A short distance away stands a Catholic church with a bell in the tower. Three steps lead up to the entrance. A cracked sidewalk runs the length of the property. The cement has fallen victim to the harsh weather over the years. He spots a tired-looking rectory nearby. Its simplicity gives evidence little money went into its construction. A wooden garage sits behind it, housing an old car. Something from the early 1960s? It sags to one side. Walking back to the front, someone tried cheering up the place by adding interesting details to the woodwork on the porch. By the entry door, you see a buzzer with a crucifix above it.

Next, he turns his gaze to the decrepit hotel, noting several stories along with a veranda. Windows and ornate double doors have shades pulled decades ago when the owner walked away. Someone attached an old-fashioned lock. If you give it a yank, you’ll have no problem entering. Above and between two columns of the porch are what’s left of the hotel’s name—Stoneridge Inn.

The next glimpse is of the restaurant. Large windows overlook the highway intersecting the town. In front of the café is a parking lot with several cars. By the road is a sign with a curved arrow beckoning a traveler to stop. He squints his eyes. Ah, yes—the Blue Moon Bar and Café. Faded lettering is evidence of having been in that location for years. The sudden noise of a truck passing by shakes him back into the present. He gets out of bed and takes a piece of paper and pencil, writing every detail he can remember.

How many times has he dreamed of this town? When he shared these dreams with his friends, they seemed bored with his accountings and thought them to be hallucinations. Not this time. This was too real, too intricate, too remarkable to forget.

Chapter 3

The images obsessed Roy Mathis. He needed to find out their location and their importance. Two major pieces of information, if authentic, were the old hotel and the bar and café. Nowadays, people were interested in using the Internet to search for things. This could be his best path to unravel this mystery.

He didn’t own a computer, so he went to the local library. Unfamiliar with the device, the librarian helped him understand the rudimentary basics of conducting searches. He needed to come up with keywords or phrases that might help narrow his search. He selected Stoneridge Inn and Blue Moon Bar and Café.

It amazed him as to the number of restaurants around the country with those words. He found Bar and Grill, and Café, but nothing with the specific combination of Blue Moon Bar and Café.