Loretta, a tall blonde Texan woman drifted into town as a young woman and landed a job as the cook at the Stage Stop Cafe. The Stage Stop is on the main highway that runs along the Gila and is where local cowboys and cowgirls and their families come and have a burger or for an evening out, to dine on pepper steak. The walls are covered with brands of all the local ranches. The highway and the Riverside and Cliff locale is the dividing line between different parts of the community. Loretta with her broad acceptance of people and her Texas charm began to bring different kinds of folks together to eat. She left the Stage Stop and rented a place off the highway and right next to the Gila Market in the valley proper.

The Gila Cafe is a unique place. The walls are painted by a local artist with Mimbres Indian designs and the thick adobe walls around the front of the cafe provide a courtyard with a cement table for not only dinner but for the coffee klatch that gathers in the early morning once a week to share thermos's of coffee and tea and an occasional bag of cookies. The range of conversation is from local gossip to national concern about trends, ideas and policies being made. At least once a month there is a discussion on topics like aliens or a catastrophe that could happen with the next eclipse or meteor shower. It is a diverse community.

The Gila Cafe is a place where neighbor can meet neighbor. Loretta, after making mounds of breakfast with fresh muffins, rushes over to the windows to swat a dozen flies, and cleans the windows and dusts the blue glass bottles lined along the ledge. Five mornings a week, breakfast consists of a stack of potatoes, eggs, and sprouts for a couple of bucks. Out of the kitchen she goes up to each table and asks them if they have had enough.

Evening is dinner and dessert, usually two choices for two more dollars. The tea is in a big mason jar with ice cubes and lime on the side, and the dessert tasty and light after the meal. Loretta, in her Texas drawl, treats everyone as a personal friend and asks if "you all" liked the meal. Most of the town shows up Saturday Evenings and everyone leans into everyone else's table and chats and shares samples of the other dish they didn't choose, the second option for the meal. It is like being in a living room at a big family gathering.

Loretta hires a few women in the community to plan a meal. She pays them, buys the supplies for them and they do their specialty. There is no shortage of wonderful pies and warm meals. Tonight, after dinner there is a young man outside on horseback galloping his horse on the dirt field across the way, the dust flies up in the evening light and shimmers amber as the sun begins to set behind the hills.

After Leaving Loretta's I drive up on top of the mesa behind the cafe and watch the last of the sunset slide over the rich green Gila Valley, as the dusky light rises up the rock faces of the laced mountains. The rock walls of the Mogollon Mountains are striated with the geological truths of the age and wisdom of this valley. The mountains have bone white sections that look like a patch of snow in a layer cake of blacks and tans.

On the way back to camp, I stop outside the cafe and use the outdoor phone. I want to say good night to my Father and Step Mom. The metal shield and cement pad that surround and support the phone are covered with large and exotic looking beetles. They seem to share a little of the cheer of this day as I let my family know they are loved and missed. I like their varied shapes and sizes ranging from intimidating to cute.