Simon had left shortly after he had eaten dinner with you. Then, all you could think about was that fine, fine man. You should have asked him to stay the night. You should have told him to come back anytime. But you didn't, and now you have to live with the fact that you'll never see the handsome cowboy again.
You continue your work, fixing minor wounds and helping folks through head colds. The next time you're invited up to the sheriff's station, you stay a little longer to chat with Sheriff Price. He doesn't seem to mind. The old man has always been kind to you. Eventually, you manage to change the subject to Simon. "Hey, sheriff, is that bounty hunter still around?"
"Ol' Ghost?" Price scratches his beard. "Yeah, I reckon he is. You get another patient shakin' in his boots about him?"
You shake your head. "No, sir. I was just curious about him, and wanted to ask if you knew anythin'."
"You met him?" The old sheriff tilts his hat up.
"That depends on what you're going to say next," you reply, crossing your arms.
"I'd stay away from him, girl," he warns. "That man has known nothin' but gunpowder and deserts his whole life."
"He was very kind when I met him." Your voice is softer than you intend.
Price sits up. "You met him, then?"
"He asked me for supper a few weeks ago," you reply. "I gave him my brown sugar bacon 'n' beans. He said 'Thank you, ma'am,' and left. Very polite."
"Listen to me," Price begins, face grave. "He's not the kind of cowboy a lady should want to settle up with. He ain't no gentleman, and he sure as hell ain't no husband."
"What-?" you gasp.
"Stay away from that man," he warns again. "He ain't the kinda person you want, I assure you."
"All due respect, sir," you drawl. "You ain't my daddy."
"No, I ain't," he relents. "But I don't wanna see your heart get broken by a man who's runnin' wild through the hills chasin' outlaws. He's not gon' want to hang his hat up at your place."
"Sheriff, are you... Are you sure?" you whisper, wringing your hands together.
"Yes, darlin', I'm very sure. I'm surprised he's not left Mercy yet." He tilts his hat back down.
"Alright," you sigh, feeling more than a little dejected. "Thank you, sheriff."
"You're welcome." He stands, opening the door for you. "Be safe, you hear?"
"Yes, sir." Your voice is barely more than a whisper.
Despite the old man's warning, every night, you sit on your porch rocking chair and watch the horizon for a Ghost. Most every night, you go inside disappointed. Hell, girl, you only saw that man for an hour. Why are you thinkin' about him so much? you think to yourself. And yet...You sit on that rocking chair day after day, week after week. Even when winter comes, you sit on that damn rocking chair until you can't take it anymore.
One winter day, you get about a foot of snow outside. Despite living in a sweltering desert in the summers, the winters in Mercy can get frigid. This year has the most snow you've ever seen. You elect not to sit on your back porch today, even though everything in you screams that tonight's the night he'll come. You ignore it.
Around eight in the evening, after the sun has set, you get a knock on the door. You assume it's your neighbor, Johnny, coming to ask for a hot cup of coffee to warm him up. He's been shoveling all day long. Instead, you're greeted by the very man you've been pining after for months. He's wearing a heavy winter cloak - black, of course.
"Sheriff Price said you came askin' after me a while ago," he drawls, beating the snow off his hat.
"Come in, you're lettin' all the cold in," you manage to say after your surprise has passed. You shut the door behind him, taking his hat and cloak. Simon takes his boots off by the door, remembering your rules, while you hang his things up.
"Why were you askin' for me?" he asks, rubbing his gloved hands together to get the cold out of them.
"I enjoyed your company," you reply honestly. Then, quieter, "I wanted to see you again."
"Why?" he questions again.
"Because you were gentle and had very good manners." You huff an annoyed breath out of your nose.
"Sweetheart, you shouldn't want a man like me," he says.
"Because you're a big, scary bounty hunter?" you scoff. "That doesn't dissuade me. You seem like a good man, Simon."
You see him go still when you say his name. He lets out a big sigh, taking off his red skull mask. "Because I'm not apt to settle down with anyone. I don't stay in one place. I'm not the man who'll give you a family."
You shake your head. "I don't care."
"You've known me less than a day in your life," he argues. "It ain't right."
"I can feel it." You tap your chest, right over the place your heart sits. Then, you tap his chest in the same place. "Can you?"
He frowns. "No, no, don't do that shit. Honey, it'd never work."
"Can't we at least try?" you whisper, giving him a hopeful look. "Please?"
He collapses into your armchair by the fire, resting his elbows on his knees. The poor cowboy scrubs his hands over his face, then gives a resigned sigh. "God fuckin' damn it," he curses, face still buried in his hands. "'Scuse my language."
"Is that a yes?" You kneel in front of him.
He peeks out at you through his hands. "I need to think about it, darlin'."
Part I
Part III
Taglist: @bouquetoflove
