While he tended to steer clear of women, Jimmy still loved playing the part of the lonesome cowboy. Chet said sometimes he did the stud routine too well because Jimmy unintentionally stole most women's attention away from Chet, and he didn't like that. He told Chet that his own course behavior is what most likely turned them off, but Chet didn't believe him.
The reason Jimmy enjoyed playing his part was because it allowed him to come out of his shell around women without having to commit to a relationship. Sometimes he acted the part of the ladies man with relative ease, and other days he still felt like the fat boy with acne on his face that he'd been as a teen.
Today he'd enjoyed the admiration he received from female tourists. Well, all but one of them. Sadly, it was Lilly he wanted to impress most, but she wouldn't abide it.
As much as he tried to block her image from his mind, he still found himself conjuring up visions of the beautiful blonde strutting around town in her saloon outfit. But with those confounding mood swings of hers, she set his heart aflame and his teeth on edge at the same time. He shuddered at the sense of inadequacy that pummeled him from the condescending look she'd given.
His mind suddenly detoured to an earlier conversation with Chet. He reminded Jimmy that it was his turn to be hanged in the middle of town next weekend. He prayed Lonesome Lilly would not be around to witness his demise. He worried she'd take pleasure in his staged death. In fact, he snickered to himself, she'd probably be as pleased as a little heifer with a new fence post.
Jimmy sighed as he pushed open the gate to his front yard and approached the wooden porch. Man, did he love his tiny house. He knew it was strange for a man to be so into the appearance of his dwelling, but it was just who he was, so he wasn't making excuses for his tastes anymore.
He unlocked and pushed open the door and hung his cowpoke hat on the coat tree. As he glanced around the newly remodeled southwestern style room, he sighed with pleasure.
Girls enjoyed chocolate. Jimmy enjoyed a good floor plan with the right mixture of Southwestern style furniture and antiques. Stepping into his tiny abode always made Jimmy feel like he'd entered a museum from an old western town. The antiques he kept for himself from his shopping trips added to the authenticity of his home's décor.
Multi-colored hand-woven rugs were disbursed throughout his home, which complemented the Indian pottery and his Mexican tile flooring. Framed quivers and arrows from the Apache tribe hanging on the adobe walls of his two bedroom home added the perfect finishing touch.
From as early as he could remember, Jimmy had always wanted live in the historic Southwest. Now he lived out his dream every day, thanks to his well-off friend and coworker, Sam, who allowed him to rent the home at a very affordable price.
Jimmy was slowly building up enough money in the bank for a nice down payment so he could purchase the remainder of the loan. Within the next year he planned to buy the 1880s era home outright, and he couldn't wait.
Funny how his best friend as a young man had been someone named Sam, too. Only she'd been a girl and he'd only known her for about a month or two. Sam here in Arizona was a great guy, but he was in no way feminine.
He strolled over to his hidden entertainment center and opened the door to reveal his modest-sized television. Plopping down on the couch with more than enough gusto, Jimmy leaned back and stretched out like a stiff cat. He yawned and grabbed the remote from the antique coffee table, and then pressed the button. After flipping through the channels to no avail, he turned off the tube.
"No good westerns meant nothing good to watch," his dad used to say.
Eyeing the large King James Bible in front of him, he decided to open it and read a few verses before eating a snack and going to bed.
After several attempts to decipher the old English, which tended to confuse him, he closed the book and slid his hand underneath the coffee table. He felt around until he reached the hidden shelf where he stashed his 'The Message' version of the Scriptures. Sam said that didn't really count as reading the Bible because it was just a paraphrase, but he still enjoyed reading it.
He opened the book to Proverbs, Chapter 5, and read…
The lips of a seductive woman are oh so sweet. Her soft words are oh so smooth. But it won't be long before she's gravel in your mouth, a pain in your gut, a wound in your heart. She's dancing down the primrose path to Death; she's heading straight to Hell and taking you with her. She hasn't a clue about Real Life. About who she is or where she's going. So my friend, listen closely; don't treat my words casually. Keep your distance from such a woman; absolutely stay out of her neighborhood. You don't want to squander your wonderful life, to waste your precious life among the hardhearted.
Jimmy's stomach twisted. He pushed his bangs off his forehead and marveled at how his bookmark had been perched in such a prophetic spot. It totally applied to his situation. That eerie sense of knowing there was nothing he could do that God wouldn't know about made him feel more at peace, not less. And today of all days when he'd desired that maddening woman in ways that God would definitely not approve of.
He thought about the warning. Was God trying to tell him something specific regarding her, or just about women in general? He'd never known the Lord to waste appropriate Scriptures before. Funny how he'd ended his reading time on that very spot the last time he'd closed The Message. Of course, he knew the Lord guided him to read what he needed to hear each day, but it still blew his mind at times. As long as he asked God, He was faithful to answer. Always.
Maybe God was telling him that Lilly must be avoided or there would be serious consequences to pay. With a low groan, he returned the book to its hiding place and rubbed his face. Steering clear of Lilly shouldn't be too hard since she had effectively turned him off the last time he had seen her. But just in case he was weaker than he realized, he prayed.
Lord, stick by me. I sense a rough road ahead.
Chapter Five
Sammie left the Bird Cage Theater, her face still warm at all she'd seen inside. She headed toward Toughnut Street to get her car. She had trouble shaking the images from her mind of the bullet holes in the walls, the old card tables, hearses, and the pictures of several well-endowed women sans clothing painted on the walls. While she knew that people have not changed much over the centuries, the shocking reality of those rough times still made a shiver snake up her spine.
Several high school aged kids loitered on the corner and took notice of her the minute she approached. The stench of stale beer sickened her even more than the sound of their laughter at their own raunchy jokes. Sammie felt their eyes following her even as she cast her gaze in the other direction.
One young man whistled. "Hey honey, got some sugar for me?"
Sammie turned and glared.
Her non-verbal threat must've worked because they made no further advances, muttering cuss words amongst themselves instead. Thankful they left her alone, Sammie got into her truck and drove to Fremont Street where she intended to rent a room for the night. She yanked open the office door. A jingle alerted the front desk clerk, who appeared with a wary smile.
"Sorry, no vacancies." The owner pointed at the neon sign in the window. Just as she feared, because she forgot to make her reservations in the midst of her excitement about her first day acting, now she had no place to sleep. The landlord had picked a lousy time to have her little country home re-carpeted and painted.
After checking numerous locations she finally discovered the only available room for rent in town. The ancient building with its cracked stucco walls and dirty windows held no appeal to her, and if she hadn't been so desperate, she would have chosen a park bench instead.
The air smelled damp and musty as she opened the door. An elderly gentleman, who appeared to be the office manager of the rickety old place, greeted her with enthusiasm before she reached the counter.
"Welcome to the famous house where Doc Holliday is said to have slept just before his passing," he said with contagious enthusiasm.
"Really? You're kidding, right?" Sammie asked with brows raised, surprised by her incredible luck.
The ancient man nodded his head. "Yep, I mean nope." He sprayed as he spoke, whistling on every 's' as he handed her a cheap-looking brochure. "I'm the great grandson of the original owner. The famous story of Doc Holiday's demise in this building had been passed down to my kin for generations."
She glanced up and looked around. His near-toothless grin widened. "As you can see, I try to keep it in its original state."
Wondering when the place had last been cleaned, she hoped there weren't bugs inside the room or she wouldn't be able to sleep.
The man chuckled. "That'll be $99 a night."
She glanced up with a start and hesitated, so the man bartered in an obvious attempt to secure the sale. "Ah, but for you, lovely lady, I'll drop the price to $59." He leaned toward her. "Because it's late and I can see that you're tired."
As if assuming she would agree to his terms, he held out his gnarly hand to accept her payment. Traces of dirt shown under his fingernails, making her shudder.
"Uh, thank you. I guess I'll take it…" Sammie pulled out her credit card and handed it to the wrinkled man, graciously accepting the key to her room after signing the register.
The toothless man touched her arm. "What does that say there?" He pointed to where she had written her first name.
Licking her lips, she replied, "That's just my nickname. Sammie."
"I ain't never seen it spelled that way. I thought it was S-A-M-M-Y."
Sammie shrugged. "Probably true. I just made the spelling up when I joined the Army. I wanted something different. Samantha sounded too blah. You know?"
His eyes crinkled shut and he nodded as if satisfied by her explanation. "Say, are you related to Karen Carpenter, the singer?"
"Not that I know of."
"That's too bad. She's got a purty voice. I was hoping you could sing something."
"Thanks, but I don't sing that great. You'd be disappointed."
"Maybe so. See you in the morning, Sammie," he called as she walked out.
Cracking open the door to her room, she peered inside, surprised at what she found. She closed the door behind her and looked around. The little details in the room made it seem quaint, right down to the claws on the tub in the tiny bathroom.
The building appeared to be at least a hundred years old. The quality of decorum surprised her in how accurately it reflected the era with its iron bedposts, hand-sewn quilts, and the tiny kitchen. Plodding toward the bed with leaden feet, she dropped her bag on the floor. Peeling her clothes off down to her bloomers, she flopped down face first on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
*****
The next morning Sammie woke up feeling stiff from the way she had slept. After examining the bathroom further, she dressed without bathing and checked out of her room. Once she'd loaded her items in the cab of her tiny vehicle, Sammie drove over to Boot Hill to view more sights before she went home.
The cemetery was located on the edge of town, almost within walking distance. Still, she preferred to drive. She had somewhat of a morbid fascination with the gunfights of the old west.
Having purchased some homemade fudge at a gift shop the previous day, she smiled and nibbled on a square of the rich treat as she toured the historic site. She couldn't wait for the gunfight competition coming up in September. Maybe she'd participate and try it for herself. Or she might just enter the authentic costume contest. She hadn't decided yet.
As she paused and read each tombstone she tried to imagine what the lives of the deceased would've been like. The number of graves due to shootings and hangings far surpassed natural causes such as old age and disease.
Her thoughts quickly drifted to her parents. They were buried side by side in a cemetery plot in Jamesville, a suburb of Syracuse, New York, where she had grown up.
A wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm her, which she quickly buried. She couldn't allow herself to feel the pain of losing both of her parents. It was too devastating and she feared if she reflected too long, she'd fall apart.
Without success, she attempted to shrug off the hopeless feeling threatening to overwhelm her. Hopping into her little truck, she headed toward town. Her stomach roiled, and with desperation, she quickly searched for a restroom.
A little white church on the corner of Fremont Street captured her attention. The more her gut churned, the more Sammie felt a need to enter the building and use their facilities to get some relief. Without pausing further, she parked her truck and headed straight for the front doors.
*****
Jimmy whistled happy tunes as he walked home after church. He loved living in the historic district and he adored his church family. Since his house was centrally located, he could walk just about everywhere he needed to go, including church. If he was desperate and didn't mind the higher prices, he could even jog over to the Circle K for perishables.
As Jimmy grabbed bread, lunchmeat and a jar of mayonnaise and slapped them on the counter, he reflected on how he and his boss, Sam, had made a real connection the day Jimmy was hired. They have been praying together ever since. In fact, Sam was not only his landlord and brother in the Lord, but he was now also one of Jimmy's best friends. Sam never minced words with Jimmy, and he appreciated that.
He took a knife from the drawer and grabbed a plate. As he prepared a sandwich for his lunch, he rehashed recent nuggets of wisdom from his best friend. Whenever Jimmy got discouraged about a client, Sam would say, "Remember, Jimmy, it's not you doing the healing but the Lord working through you."
He smirked as he wondered what Sam might say about Lonesome Lilly. Probably… "The wages of sin is death. Flee temptation, man, run as fast as you can…"
Of course, he would probably do whatever his best friend advised, for he truly loved the man. Sam was more of a big brother to Jimmy by virtue of his age, but Sam also reminded him of a younger version of his father, which made their friendship priceless.
Over a decade ago his dad had been killed in a military training accident, yet, it seemed like he hadn't been gone that long. Tombstone was the one place Dad had talked about most, because it was where his father had planned to retire after his years of service were completed. Unfortunately, he'd never made it to retirement, so Jimmy decided to live out his dad's dream for him. His dad would be so proud of what he'd accomplished.
He took a huge bite of his sandwich and chewed to keep the tears clogging his throat at bay. Even though he was alone and no one would see him, he refused to cry any more over the loss of his father. He'd wasted too many years in a state of mild depression and drowning the pain in alcohol. He didn't want to go back there and dredge up old pain that could resurrect his old addiction. If he could help other people cope with their losses, shouldn't he be able to help himself deal with his own? Wasn't that why he decided to become a counselor?
Chet came to mind. Underneath that rough exterior he sensed that guy really wanted to have faith in something bigger than himself. Maybe even God. He was just afraid of letting go and trusting the Unseen. Jimmy could totally relate because not that many years ago he'd been there, too.
After lunch he decided to call Chet and see if he wanted to hang out for awhile. How else would he be able to share the love of Christ with the man if he never saw him outside of their cowboy roles? Now he just had to be real with Chet and everything else would fall into place. There was nothing he hated more than phony Christians demonstrating spiritual fakeness. His friend would pick up on any insincerity immediately, so he prayed for himself that he would be real around Chet and be the type of friend Chet needed.
*****
The following Saturday Sammie's stomach growled to the point of distraction, so she opened up the fridge and peeked inside. She was low on food again, but not sure how that was possible since she rarely ate at home these days. Digging around the bins in search of fresh fruits and vegetables, she pulled open every drawer un
til she found a cup of blueberry yogurt. Everything else was a type of condiment. Somehow stale bread smothered with ketchup didn't sound that appealing. She'd make time to restock her fridge if it killed her.
Eating the cool, creamy dessert without tasting it, Sammie thought about Jimmy and how she'd seen him in church worshipping God last Sunday. His love for God made her heart warm inside. But the sense of something greater than she could control also sent her running out of the building in a panic hoping he hadn't seen her.
He was the last person she'd expected to see in church. Not because he was rude or uncouth, but because he was so attractive and had wandering eyes. And with his slightly long hair and five o'clock shadow, she assumed he was a ladies man, not a choirboy. How wrong she'd been in her assumption. That realization made her smile and shiver at the same time.
With a sigh, she tossed her spoon and nearly missed the sink, then dropped the empty container in the garbage bin. If only she could dump her attraction to the man as easily as she dropped her cup in the trash. Her mind continually returned to the image of his devastating smile. Imprinted in her memory regardless of how hard she tried to forget him, his face and his kind eyes kept returning to her mind's eye.
Sammie decided to take a stroll down the lane to see if her favorite mare, Lady, still lingered outside. She needed to talk to someone and that sweet horse was a great listener. Sammie grinned. It helped that her equine friend had nothing to say and her attention span went beyond most humans.
Spotting the mare, Sammie approached the fence with a bounce in her step. Man, she loved horses, and this one was no exception. In fact, Lady had the most wonderful personality of any horse she'd ever known. Too bad she was never in one place long enough to get her own horse or nurture a relationship with one. As if on cue, Lady turned and whinnied as Sammie inched closer.
Sammie stroked the horse's beautiful head and rubbed along the side of her nose. Gazing up, Lady stared at Sammie with her big brown eyes as Sammie discussed her morning with the horse.
The Shy Captain Page 5
