Romance in a Ghost Town Page 12

  “Well,” Bob said, “that’s not really true about nobody from town ever visiting Rattlesnake Haven: Jim Bensen and Ed Pushkin have been there.”

  “No, I mean before you came here it was just a small footnote in our history. Most heard of it and a few knew that it belonged to the Bensen family but if pressed, all would say it was just a made up story. They’d say that there was no town named Rattlesnake Haven…it was just something that the old prospectors talked about to get a free drink at the local bar.”

  “Believe me,” said Bob rubbing his knee, “it’s for real.”

  She nodded, “I’ve been in a few of the ghost towns that are fairly close to Bransville and all were really run down and a person could get hurt real easy if they didn’t watch their step.” She raised her glass in a toast and went on, “And here is a, for-real, honest-to-goodness, City Slicker, not only buying one but staying there overnight. As I said, cheers to that!”

  A grinning Bob raised his glass and they finished their drinks. “Now, I insist that we have another drink and toast to your promotion. Agree, miss reporter?”

  “How can I disagree? After all, I am the newspapers new Environmental Manager and this could be a story. I imagine the readers would love to read about the recently found town that existed right here in their midst all these years. Rattlesnake Haven could be the new Shang Ra La; heard of, but never seen.”

  Bob got the bartender’s attention and held up two fingers for refills. This time the man came down the bar with a wide smile as he placed them in front of Bob and Anne.

  It seemed appropriate to wait until he left and as he sauntered away, Bob said, “Cheers again to the new Environmental Manager of the Bransville Speaker,” as he raised his glass.

  Anne smiled as they touched glasses and both took a sip. Putting her drink down and swishing the golden fluid around inside the glass, Anne said, “So, what does one do in a newly discovered town? I mean, do you have a plan and is it for the record?”

  Bob shrugged and said, “Not really sure. I thought I’d get it back together and see if maybe a ghost town tour company might want to put it on their list of places to visit. Outside of that I’m up for any ideas, and yes, of course it’s for the record.”

  “Just how bad is it?”

  “Actually,” answered Bob with a shrug, “it’s not bad at all.” He sat with his elbows on the bar and mimicked her swishing movement with his own drink. “In fact the more I think about it, the more it becomes a mystery. How come Rattlesnake Haven is so well preserved after all these years, when any other town of the same time frame is so run down and dilapidated?”

  After a moment of silence she said, “You’re sunburned.”

  “Wha? Oh, yes, I kept my hat back too far and am now paying the consequences.”

  She opened her small grip and took out a tube of ointment. “Here,” she said as she put some on her finger, stay still.” She dabbed the salve on his nose and rubbed it in. “This will take the sting away when you wrinkle your nose.”

  “Do I wrinkle my nose?”

  “Like a bunny,” she said with a big smile as she pressed the small tube into his hand. “Here. I have more at home. It’s probably the biggest selling item in Bransville” She closed her grip and went on, “So, how do I get an invite to your town?”

  “You?” he said in a bit of a shock. “Ah, well, anytime, I guess. I mean I imagine it would be sort of an assignment or something? Right?”

  “No, I mean after all I was born and raised here and would love to see a newly discovered ghost town. So, it would not be as an assignment but sort of something new to do on a day off. Would that be okay with you?”

  “Sure!” said Bob, “Of course it would be okay with me. Just let me know a day or two ahead of time.”

  “So you can spruce the place up?” she said with a grin.

  “Ha,” he quipped, “sprucing the place up is at the top of my to-do list. No, I just have to make sure that we plan it so that we leave early enough to get there and back before dark. That’s all.”

  “Well, today is Wednesday, so what do you say to my going there with you on, oh, I don’t know, Saturday coming?”

  Bob shrugged and with a nod answered, “Sure! Is Saturday morning, around nine good?”

  “Perfect! Where do we meet?”

  “Well, for now I’m at the Clayton Hotel, so can you meet me there?”

  “That’ll be me in the cowgirl hat and boots, partner.” She lifted her glass and they both took a sip as Tom Madren suddenly appeared behind them with his arms on the backs of their stools.

  “Hey, you two. Having a celebration without me?” He looked at Anne and with a smile that Bob thought was forced, said, “Congrats, honey. Like I said on the phone, sorry I’m late but that’s the TV biz.”

  Anne answered by talking to his reflection in the mirror. “Sorry, but this is a private celebration.”

  Tom tried to laugh it off and sat next to her saying, “Hey, you sure do look cute when you pout. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Before she could answer, Tom reached in front of her and with his outstretched hand said, “Hi, I’m Tom Madren, and you must be Robert McKillop the new guy from New York City?”

  Bob shook hands with him, “Yes. Pleased to m…“ As Bob relaxed his grip, Tom suddenly squeezed tight and, caught off guard, Bob’s face showed the sudden pain.

  “Some grip you have here, partner,” said Bob as Tom kept his TV smile on his face and his hand tightly wrapped around Bob’s. However, years of using his arms as a balance to get along and help him to stand taught Bob’s friends one thing: don’t get into an arm wrestling or hand squeezing contest with him. And it was at this point that he started to squeeze slowly back as Anne slapped Tom on his arm.

  “Leave him alone!” she hissed as her eyes flashed in anger. She watched as the television Weather Man’s smile went from the practiced one she had seen on TV to a change in his face that she had never seen before: one of horror and pain! His brow wrinkled as his smile went into a downward curved frown, showing clenched teeth as his eyes widened and sweat popped out on his brow. She looked quickly at Bob, as both men still held their hands in a grip that was supposed to be one of greeting. The New Yorker’s face was unemotional as he hefted his glass in his left hand and downed his remaining scotch before pushing a tip towards the bartender’s side of the bar. Still gripping Tom’s hand he took his cane and slipped off of his stool as he released his grip. He walked around Anne and facing Tom said, “Anne, once again I offer my congratulations on your promotion. I’m sorry if it was me who interrupted your celebration and hope to see you around town. Good evening.” He left Tom holding his hurting hand as he slouched down in his stool. Turning once he saw a smile on Anne’s face as she winked at him.

  Back up in his room, Bob removed his cell phone to find that he had missed a voice mail from the car dealership. His car was ready to be picked up. He felt as though he had accomplished a lot the last few days. Even, he thought, making an enemy. Oh well. He was surprised that he wasn’t upset by it.

  He was up at five a.m. and after a big breakfast and reading the newspapers in the lobby he drove the loaner SUV over to the auto dealership. He entered the showroom and once again, Al himself came out stuffing his shirt into his pants.

  “Bob, ya ol’ cowboy, how ya been?”

  Bob grinned as they shook hands, “Hi again, Al. I got your message and came over as soon as I could.”

  “Partner, do I have a surprise fer ya. C’mon an’ follow me.” He stepped out into the growing heat and headed towards an enclosed garage. Opening the tin door they entered a bright mechanics shop filled with the mixed sounds of blasting music, air-conditioning and air compressors working various machines.

  “C’mon,” he shouted over the noise as he rounded a group of cars on lifts. There in the harsh glare of acetylene torches was his white Chevy SUV.

  I wonder why he has it in the garage? Did he have to do some work
on it? Bob thought as he followed him to the rear of the car.

  “Ta-da!” said Al as he presented an addition to the SUV. “What do ya think, partner?”

  Bob was all smiles at the attached two-wheeled, storage trailer hooked up to the SUV’s hitch post. He watched as Al easily lifted the gleaming white, hardtop to the open position simply by lifting it at the rear.

  “She’ll hold about half as much again as the Suburban herself. Now,” he said wagging his index finger, “If ya don’t want it, I’ll just have the boys unhitch her so ya can look around fer another one. And, if ya want it, it’ll cost ya another twenty-two hundred, an, believe me, partner, that’s a steal.”

  “Al, I love it! I’ll write out a check for it before I leave.”

  Al tucked his shirt in his pants again and with a tilt of his head, said, “Partner, I like the way ya do business. No curves, just straight shootin’ all the way.” He looked at Bob out of the corner of his eye and added, “Say, did ‘ol Ed say that ya was from New York City?”

  “Yep! Right from the heart of New York City: Brooklyn!”

  Al shrugged and said as he led the way, “Boy, ya just can’t believe all that stuff ya hear on the television.”

  They walked back to his office again and Bob grinned inwardly as the big man’s white shirt inched back out with each step he took.

  One hour later, after getting a quick test drive and the feel of the SUV, Bob pulled out of the lot and thought, as he watched the trailer follow down the slight incline, Boy I sure do like that new car smell. His cell phone rang and he flipped it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mister McKillop, this is to Flinn’s Cell Phone Palace. Your Satellite Phone System came in.”

  “Great,” answered Bob as he turned the corner and saw the store, “I’ll be there right away.”

  He pulled over to the curb and had to pull up more than he was used to with the new addition behind him. Finally satisfied with his parking, he entered the store.

  Flinn had thick dark eyebrows that reminded Bob of his Scottish grandfather as they raised and lowered as he spoke. The man looked and after recognizing him said, “Got here pretty fast, young feller. I just called you.”

  “I was in the vicinity when I got your call, Mel.”

  The storeowner smiled as he placed a stainless steel carrying case on the counter and, as he opened it said, “A Flash 2, Mercury Terminal with cell phone and laptop connections along with a charging port and adapters.” He lifted the compact unit out of the case and set it on his counter. It was the size and shape of a typical laptop and made of stainless steel.

  “She’s a beauty,” Mel said with a proud grin, “Now here’s the ten second instruction speech to start you off: First open the top lid and notice that when it’s open it can swivel.” He reached under the counter and brought up an extension cord and plugged it into the case’s power connection. A low ‘beeping’ sounded as Mel went on, “That beeping is a satellite finder and as you swivel the top, which is also the antenna, you locate the strongest signal by the strength of the beeping. The stronger it is, the better the reception you’ll have.” Next he took one of the adapter cords and put one end into his own cell phone and the other into the unit’s USB port. He hit speed dial and Bob’s cell phone rang.

  “Is that you?” asked Bob as he reached for his phone.

  “Yep! It’s almost instantaneous communications. Same thing with your laptop…I know because before I sell anything, I try it out first and now I’m going to get one for myself. Never can tell when there’s a power failure.”

  He repacked the unit and Bob paid and shook his hand as he left carrying the lightweight case. He placed it on the passenger’s seat of his car and then lowered all of the rear seats and drove off following Mel’s instructions on how to get to Ned White’s wood-mill and ten minutes later parked in front of the large mill.

  Bob opened the door and seeing nobody in the office area, followed the sound of wood being sawed through an open door at the rear. Once inside the big open shop, he was greeted with the smell of freshly cut wood and it brought memories back to him. Wow, he thought as he closed his eyes, the same smell as wood shop back in my old high school. He grinned, the good old days of John Jay High school back in Brooklyn.

  Suddenly a muffled voice asked, “Can I help you, friend?”

  Bob opened his eyes and saw a bull of a man standing there wearing thick, plastic goggles and a white paper respirator, his thick black beard and work jeans covered in a mass of sawdust and wood chips.

  “Sorry,” answered Bob, “just thinking of my high school days in wood shop.”

  The man removed his goggles and mask and asked, “You looking for work?”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry if I gave that impression. Edward Pushkin was going to order some wood to be cut for me.”

  A huge smile appeared on the big man’s face as he put out his hand and said, “You must be that mad New Yorker who bought the ghost town that never was. I’m Ned White and mighty pleased to meet you, partner.”

  Bob laughed in spite of his new reputation, “And I’m Bob McKillop and yeah, I’m the nut that bought the town in the desert and pleased to meet you too. I hope to be doing a lot of business with you in the future, Ned.”

  “Well, that’s real nice to hear and you have great timing as I just finished cutting the wood you need and if you give me thirty minutes, me and the boys will load it in your vehicle.” He looked out the open door and seeing Bob’s SUV and trailer asked, “Can we stack some in the pull-along if we need to?”

  “Absolutely. If we settle up now, Ned, I’ll go across the street to that department store and get some more supplies while the SUV is being loaded.”

  “No problem, partner, follow me,” said Ned as he led the way back to the office.

  After paying, Bob went to the department store and brought a case of Windex Window Spray and a large box of paper towels. He then had the boy who worked there carry it over and put it in his SUV. Back at the wood-mill he tipped Ned’s workers and headed over to Pearl’s Sandwich Shoppe and stocked up on sandwiches, coke, ice, soup and water. Finding more room in the trailer, he put his full cooler in and said to himself, “Time to hit the road, city slicking cowboy.”

  On the way out of town he picked up two more five-gallon gasoline cans and at the gas station, filled them and topped off his tank.

  It was twelve noon when he started the SUV and headed north on Route 95.

  As usual the sun beat down on the black macadam road and he was pleased that although the outside temperature was 87 degrees, the SUV’s air-conditioning easily handled it. He also noticed that the large front windshield was more tinted than the first Chevy he had borrowed from Al. Guess they have them made especially for this region, he thought as he went through the satellite radio stations. He wasn’t really into Country/Western songs but decided to switch from his old New York radio station and try Cowpoke Bill’s Songs of the West and settled down for the trip.

  When the GPS suddenly announced, “TURN LEFT IN ONE-HALF MILE,” he knew he was now going to feel the full, off-road capabilities of the big Chevy.

  When the GPS instructed him to turn, he remembered that there was a small section of road that had no guardrail, as that was where the road maintenance crews parked their cars when they worked in the area. There was nobody on the road and he slowed down to a crawl as he made the turn down the slight embankment to the hard-packed, sandy desert. Bob watched in his rearview mirror with more than a little trepidation, as this was the first time he had ever towed something. He was pleased that the trailer simply followed as advertised and once on the fairly flat surface, he gave her some gas. Although following the GPS, he kept a sharp lookout for cactus and crevices along the way and was happy with the way the big SUV handled.

  Four hours and fifteen minutes later Bob crested the small rise and saw his new home shimmering in the heat of the desert. He grinned and slowly went down the rise keeping his eye
on the GPS as he drove slowly along. Fifteen minutes later he parked between the two buildings he had camped at the other night and transferred some of the supplies from the SUV into the large Community Hall.

  Finished for the time being, he realized he was starving and checked his watch. Seeing that it was after four-thirty, the town’s only resident pulled out his cooler and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a coke. Knowing how fast it got dark, Bob took the time to remove enough of the cut wood so that he could stretch out in his sleeping bag. He placed the wood by the hall’s sidewalk and looking over his efforts thought, as he removed his work gloves; well this will be as good a place as any to start fixing the sidewalk. But, tomorrow’s another day.

  Using the Coleman tent lamp, he once again sat in a circle of light as the sun dropped. He took the thermos, poured himself a cup of coffee, opened the cooler and took out an egg salad sandwich. He munched on his dinner and washed it down with the hot drink as he realized that he didn’t have to look up to see the stars but simply look around as they filled the sky from horizon to horizon. I guess this is what the old cowhands saw as they sat around the chuck wagon swapping stories, he figured as he opened a plastic pie plate and had a dessert of cherry pie. Finished, he sat back and enjoyed his coffee before placing the refuse in a plastic bag and putting it inside the SUV. The New Yorker stretched and thought as he picked up the lamp, best I use the closest washroom before settling down. Don’t want to have to get up in the middle of the night.

  Bob walked in the bright circle of light and entered the Community Hall throwing sharp shadows against the walls. He opened the men’s washroom and, as had become his habit, shown the light down the hole. It was empty and he sighed a sigh of relief.

  Finished, he stepped back into the hall and heard a slithering sound. He froze and suddenly wished he had brought a flashlight so he could point the beam deeper into the shadows. He stood still as the sound receded deeper into the darkness. Really have to remember to wear that gun when I’m here, he thought nervously. Walking slowly, Bob used his cane as a blind person would, swishing it from side-to-side as he took small steps out of the hall. Back at the SUV he regretted leaving the tailgate open and did his best to throw the light about the interior. Finally satisfied that there were no snakes in it, he climbed in, removed his boots and lay back. His heart was beating fast and he came to a few conclusions. I really have to be careful out here, especially since I’m alone…and don’t know crap about snakes. He wiped his forehead and thought deeper, Hey, Bob! Wake up, dude! There’s more danger out here than just snakes. Remember the stuff the History Channel taught you: Scorpions, spiders and other things that just love to settle in a person’s boot- ready to give them the shock of their lives as they slip their feet back into them. Better start using your head for more than placing a hat, stupid City Slicker!