Romance in a Ghost Town Page 3

  “Wow!” said Jim as they drove slowly down the dusty street. “This is something else, Edward.” Without looking at him Jim went on, “Hey, remember all those days that we went to ghost towns on our motor bikes? Boy, they were great days. No problems then, just: where do we get the next beer from and take your girl out to some old ghost town.” He shook his head as he reminisced, “Boy, they were the good old days.”

  “Jim,” said Edward as he stopped the car next to the jail, “you’re gonna get the same kick out of Rattlesnake Haven that we did way back when we were kids and entered an old ghost town.”

  They opened the door and the heat of the valley smacked them in their faces.

  “Whew!” said both as they grabbed their Stetsons and put them on to help shade them from the sun. Edward smiled to himself as he watched his boss put on his tall, ten-gallon Stetson. It seemed that Jim was the only person he knew who still wore one since Tom Mix made them fashionable in the old cowboy movies. As for himself, his Stetson was only half as high as his bosses and, as his SUV was smaller than Jim’s Cadillac, it didn’t get flattened against the roof when he drove with it on.

  “Whoa!” shouted Jim as a bunch of tumbleweed suddenly rolled past, pushed by a light gust of hot wind that also kicked up lots of dust. “Damn! That scared the tar outta me.”

  Edward grinned as he remembered how many times that happened to him. One minute a town is as quiet as a graveyard and suddenly a gust of wind brings it to life for a moment or two. It’s times like that, that you need to be holding the reins real tight if you’re on horseback, he thought opening the rear door and grabbing his holstered pistol off the backseat.

  “Just gotta watch out for rattlesnakes, Jim,” reminded Edward as he put his gun belt on. Jim nodded and opened the tailgate, reached in and opened a teakwood box with brass fittings revealing a pair of highly polished, pearl handled .45 caliber six-guns. He put on an ornate leather gun belt with a pair of holsters that he placed the pistols in. He then tied them to his thighs and stood looking around as though looking for a gunfight.

  Edward nodded and said, “Nice, but are they loaded, Jim?”

  Jim looked at Edward with a questioning look on his face, took out a pistol and opened the cylinder. It was empty and he grinned sheepishly as he said, “Oh, yeah. I have the bullets in my glove compartment.”

  Edward stood in the hot sun as his boss loaded his weapons.

  Finally ready, Jim said as he pointed at an old stone building, “I loved the jail that you showed me in the video. Let’s go there first.”

  Both men walked from the parked car to the wooden sidewalk. “Best follow me,” said Edward noting that Jim wore dress, snakeskin boots. “These old wood slats are dried out and snap easily. They’ll cut your boots up pretty good, partner.”

  “Good idea, don’t want to ruin these guys. Just got them from Texas and they cost an arm and a leg.” He couldn’t see Edward’s eyes as they rolled up towards the sky or know that he thought, Of course not, boss, let me go first and ruin mine.

  Edward stepped gingerly and was rewarded by a slight cracking sound, warning him before it split and gave him time to shift his weight to the next slat. It seemed solid so he moved to the jail’s door, which he had closed behind him the last time he was here. He gave it a shove and stepped back in case some more rubble fell but after a moment of silence he entered with Jim following. Edward turned and smiled as his boss looked wide-eyed around the red-bricked room.

  “Wow!” said Jim like a little boy, “This is great!” He quickly snatched the keys off the peg in the wall, unlocked one of the cell doors and went in. He looked at the clean wooden bed and said with a grin, “You sat here, didn’t you?”

  Edward grinned back. “Yeah, Jim. I just had too.”

  “Oh wow! This is the best. I wonder how many bad guys were locked up in here?”

  Both men jumped as a slithering sound came from the rubble.

  “Snake!” shouted Jim as he pulled his pistols out and waved them around.

  Edward cringed seeing the long barreled guns quivering in Jim’s hands as he pulled his feet up off the floor. He knew that any snake would rather slide away then face someone and he was more afraid of his bosses shaking hands with the loaded guns in them.

  Trying to calm him, Ed said, “Hey, Jim. Maybe we should leave the jail to the desert creatures, huh?”

  “Yeah, you got that right,” said Jim as he went out the door in a flash his guns still in his hands.

  Once out in the bright sunshine he seemed to compose himself and holstered his pistols. “What do you think, should we try another place that has less hiding places for those slithering big worms?”

  Edward easily agreed and tipped his head to the right as he pointed to the right of the jail. “What about the General Store? It looks like it was closed up tight and maybe the snakes had a hard time getting in.”

  “Sounds good to me, Edward,” said Jim tipping back his tall hat as they started walking towards the chosen store. Edward noticed that his boss had both hands on his guns and looked around a lot.

  Once again Edward took the lead and as they both stood on the wooden planks of the sidewalk, he tried the door. It was locked and he turned to Jim and said, “Locked. Should we give it a shove?”

  Edward drew one of his handguns. “Stand back and I’ll shoot it open.”

  Edward shouted, “Jim! Stop! It’s just as easy to break in. Let’s not start shooting things up. Remember, you’re trying to get the sale.”

  Jim grinned sheepishly and said as he put the gun away, “Yeah, right. We want to sell the property, not shoot it up. Give it a push and we’ll see what happens.”

  Edward placed his shoulder against the door and leaned. Both men were surprised at how easy the lock snapped and the door flew open. The daylight flooded through the open door into the dusty room, showing a small, glass and wood showcase, its top covered with a layer of gray dust. There were six mannequins standing as though they were in a conversation, three of which were still dressed in ladies dresses, aprons and sunbonnets. Both men stood in awe of their find. Never before had they entered a ghost town that seemed to be so well preserved.

  “Wow!” whispered Edward, “You could get more money than you thought, Jim.”

  “Yeah! Bet I could get two million.”

  A sound came from behind a stack of boxes and Jim’s hands once again yanked both guns out. “Okay, okay, let’s get the heck outta here. I’ve seen enough. No wonder why they call this place Rattlesnake Haven.” He started backing out and as he reached the sidewalk one of the dry planks split and his foot went through and down to the hard packed ground ten inches beneath the sidewalk. He fell backwards and one of his guns went off as he shrieked, “Edward! Save me! There are snakes under the sidewalk! Edward, help me!”

  Edward ducked behind the door and shouted back, “Put your guns down, Jim and I’ll get ya out. Just drop the guns.”

  Jim screamed back as he tossed his guns into the street, “Okay, okay. I tossed my guns, now help me outta here!”

  Edward peeked out from his cover and seeing that he was telling the truth, stepped forward and quickly joined him on his back as his foot went through another plank that gave way. A terrified Jim grabbed him and tried to use him as leverage to get himself out of the broken sidewalk as he shrieked, “Ahh, they’re biting me! Edward, help me, they’re biting me!”

  Edward started to laugh, “Jim, stop! You’re okay! Even if there are snakes under there, they can’t penetrate your boots. Sit up, partner.” He felt the grip on his shirt lessen as Jim started to listen to him. They both sat up and Edward pulled his leg out and stood. He offered Jim his hand and soon they both were standing on the hard packed dirt of the street. Jim still had his tall Stetson on but his dark glasses were nowhere to be found.

  “Probably fell under the sidewalk,” offered Edward as he dusted his pants off.

  “Well,” said Jim as he picked up his dusty guns and placed them in his
holsters without wiping them off, “they can stay under there.” He looked up at the sun and continued, “Damn! I can’t stay out in the sun without them, so best we get back to town.” He looked at Edward and asked with raised eyebrows, “Right?”

  A disappointed Edward nodded, “Sure, Jim. Like you said, best we get back to town.”

  The ride back was quiet until they got close to town and Jim said, “Pretty good day, huh, Edward?”

  Edward knew he was embarrassed and quipped, “Sure was, Jim. Great place, right?” He flicked the wide windshield wipers once to remove the pesky sand buildup and shrugged as he went on in a casual tone, “Of course those old wood sidewalks are dangerous. We’ll have to tell the new owner about them.”

  “Ah, not yet, though. Let me feel him out first. After all, he probably expects broken sidewalks and stuff. In fact, lets not tell anybody about the broken sidewalks. Could bust the deal and there goes my sale, and,” he said as he looked at Edward, “your commission too. Okay, buddy?”

  Edward’s smile along with his nod told Jim that he agreed to keep Jim’s panic attack between them.

  Bob’s single-paned glass window shook with the cold winds of late January and as he a grabbed his sweater from the back of his chair, it caused his cane to fall to the floor. “Why me?” he said to himself as he tried to reach it without getting out of the chair. Not being able to do so, he pushed back with his good left leg and almost tipped the chair backwards. He gave up and slowly got out of the chair, bent over, grabbed the cane and hung it back on his chair before sitting once again. Returning his gaze to the laptop he opened his AOL account for the tenth time that day. ‘You have mail,’ it said and he scrolled down to the new mail only to see an e-mail from Lefferts and McCoy Lawyers stating that they could get money for any type of accident he or his family ever had. His mouth became a thin line of frustration as he deleted it with a heavy thump of his finger.

  Damn Ambulance chasers, he thought. I’d love to find the person who sold them the e-mal addresses of the patients for the Mount Juniper Hospital. He hung his head momentarily and hen snapped back as he looked at his reflection in the dark window.

  “Hey you!” he said to his reflection, “No more feeling sorry for yourself! Remember the promise you made: Get on with your life?”

  The face in the window softened as he got himself under control. He opened his AOL mail account and saw nothing from Bensen Realty. Shaking his head he gave in and, leaving his mail account up, went to his list of ‘Favorites’. He scrolled down to the site, MODERN MEDICINE & ADVANCES IN LIMB REPAIR. It took a few seconds for him to bring himself to open it and when he did he grinned sarcastically to himself. Same as yesterday and the day before, nothing new. That is, nothing new for me. There are plenty of new breakthroughs in the DNA and cell-research fields but they’re nowhere even close to regenerating a leg. Life sucks, he thought, if I was a salamander I’d have no problem growing another one. He felt himself slipping back to the old days and slammed down the laptop’s cover only to hear a muffled and cut-off chime as he did so.

  Was that a chime? He thought as he quickly reopened the laptop and opened the AOL mail site. A voice told him that he had mail and his eyes opened wide as he saw it was from Bensen Realty. He grabbed his wooden cane, left his chair and headed towards the small kitchen. Bob poured himself a mug of coffee, stuck it in the microwave and pushed the timer as he thought excitedly, Why do I do this to myself? I’ve been waiting for this e-mail for two weeks and when I get it, I seem to relish the fact that it’s there, waiting for me to open it and what do I do? Stretch it out and make a cup of coffee. He shrugged as he took the Soymilk out of the refrigerator, Strange, but hey, that’s me!

  The micro beeped and he removed the mug, put in a spoonful of Splenda, a drop of Vanilla Soy-milk and stirred it. He took a sip and satisfied, returned to his chair, hung his cane over the back, resettled himself before his computer and opened his new mail.

  Greeting, Mister McKillop, from sunny Nevada. I hope this e-mail finds you in good health and apologize for not getting back to you sooner. You asked if Bensen Reality knew of any ghost towns that are for sale and I am happy to tell you, yes we do! In fact, the ghost town we represent has been in our family for over one hundred years and it took my family the past few weeks to agree to part with it. As I’m sure you understand, because the property has been in the Bensen family all this time, it took some persuasion on my part for it to happen. I’ve attached a video to this e-mail for you to peruse before we go any further. So without further ado, let me present Rattlesnake Haven. I await your next e-mail, Jim Bensen, Owner Bensen Reality, Bransville, Nev.

  Bob took a sip of his coffee and activated the attached video.

  Bob drank another three cups of coffee and looked at the video at least seven times before he decided to get some sleep. Still gotta go to work, he thought as he put out the light. He lay in the dark room and as usual it came creeping into his tired mind. He was riding his bike with four other guys along the streets of Brooklyn. It was still daytime and as usual they were alert to the traffic that flowed along Seventh Avenue, a wide two-way street. He just turned the corner when a taxicab came down the street the wrong way and all he remembered was the square grill coming at him and the sound of screeching tires and brakes.

  He was in and out of hospitals ever since but the nerves in his right leg were severed and as he grew it remained the same length as when he was seventeen years old. The rest of Bob’s teens were of him trying to catch up with his friends while on crutches and then using a cane. It finally got to the point that he stopped hanging around with anyone and turned inward. He went to Nassau Community College but was an average student who never really knew what he wanted to be after graduation. He hardly ever looked at girls, as he feared rejection. His mother and father tried to cheer him up by buying him the latest electronic devices that came out but when his father died and his mother remarried, Bob knew it was time to go out on his own. He got a job working for the City of New York in the department of Sanitation doing clerical work at a desk in downtown Manhattan.

  3

  Sharing His Secret

  One month after receiving the video, Bob sat in Starbucks having coffee with his buddy from work Tommy Wallace.

  “What?” asked Tommy, his coal black eyes flashing in disbelief, “You’re quitting your job? Do you know how lucky you are to have a job with the City of New York? I mean, the pension, the security…you must be nuts…what are you going to do, stay home and watch all those black and white cowboy movies you have?”

  “Whoa,” said Bob with a grin. “One question at a time, Tommy.” He took a sip of his coffee knowing that his friend awaited his answers. “First: yes, I am quitting and second; yes, I know how hard it is to get a job with security and a city pension, and no, I’m not going to sit home and watch old movies. I have a plan.”

  His friend relaxed his five-foot ten-inch frame in the wooden chair and stared up at the ceiling before looking Bob in the eye and asking, “Can you share this great plan with your buddy of the past three years?”

  Bob pushed back in his seat causing the legs of his chair to screech along the cement floor, his gaze intense and his voice low, “You’re going to think I’m crazy, Tommy.”

  “Ha! The master of the obvious speaks! Of course I’m going to think you’re crazy so you may as well go ahead and tell me anyway.”

  Bob pulled his chair forward and this time the screech got him stares from two women sitting at the next table. He went on in a low tone of voice, “Remember at the Christmas party you asked if I’ve ever been to a ghost town? Well that’s where I’m heading; to a ghost town.”

  Tommy pushed back his ever-sliding glasses, sat closer to his friend across the small table and said in a mock sarcasm, “Bob, surprise! You don’t have to quit your job to go on vacation. Just take some extra time if you want. It’s what we all do when we disappear from the office for a few weeks during the year: it’s called ‘ta
king vacation time’.”

  Bob grinned, “Not vacation, Tommy, I’m going to live there.”

  “Live there? Live where?”

  “Rattlesnake Haven, Nevada. That’s where.”

  “Rattlesnake Haven? What the heck are you talking about? Getting a job as a make-believe cowboy or something?”

  “Check this out, Tommy,” he said pushing his Smartphone forward. The scene Tommy saw on the small screen was the wooden signpost on the outskirts of the town.

  “Tap the screen and activate the video,” said Bob as he sat back taking care not to scrape the floor again. Tommy started the video and Bob watched as the town floated by in the reflection of his friend’s glasses.

  Tommy finally looked up, his mouth open as he pushed the phone back across the table. “What the heck is this?”

  “That is Rattlesnake Haven.”

  “A-And you’re quitting your job and leaving New York to live there?”

  Bob simply grinned and nodded.

  Tommy tapped his fingers on the table, shook his head and asked, “When?”

  “I’m going out there to check it out and if it’s as good as it looks, I’ll probably move there in three or four months. I have to clear up some financial stuff, get rid of furniture and makes family visits and stuff like that before making the final move.”

  Now Tommy grinned as he said, “Okay! So where are you planning on living when you’re there? In the hotel or the bar? Or maybe the General Store or that big barn that seems to be leaning on the building next to it? Oh, and does it have air conditioning? I might be wrong but it looks sort of warm there.”

  Bob cut in and recited the information he had gathered from the online Atlas: “It can climb to 135 degrees in July and dip to 60 at night and, while it has a high of around 50 in the winter, it dips to the 30s at night. So yes, it gets hot there.”

  “And of course,” continued his friend with a grin, “there’s TV and all of those things, you know; like running hot and cold water.”