Saturday, June 7, 2014

The Tourist: The Young Cowboy



“Maybe I will meet someone today,” thought Fiona, a teenager working at the ice cream stand beside the park. “I am so alone!”

A young cowboy caught Fiona’s attention immediately, as he stepped out of his Mercedes. His leather cowboy boots and white cowboy hat made him appear taller than he actually was. He stumbled on the gravel, as he approached the ice cream stand and waited patiently in line.

“Maybe he wears a holster with guns?”

“We don’t see many real cowboys around here,” she said, with a smile. “Can I help you?”

“Two scoops of maple walnut ice cream, in a waffle cone,” replied the young man, in a gruff, cowboy voice that sounded distinctly like John Wayne. “Please. Just a tourist,” he explained, tipping his hat.

Moments later, she reached across the stand and handed him an ice cream cone with two, huge scoops of ice cream that nearly toppled to the ground. His hand brushed against hers gently.

“I’m just passing through.”

“You’d better eat your ice cream before it melts,” she said, smiling at his awkwardness, as she watched him fumble. It was hot. “Where are you from?”

“Out west,” he replied, with a gentle smile. “Where I come from everyone is a cowboy, even the girls.”

“He is not an unattractive dude,” thought Fiona, relieved to be able to take a break after a busy day. “As far as cowboys go, I have met less attractive ones.”

“Ma’am, would you like to show me your town when you get off work? I was thinking I should stay for the night and head east in the morning.”

Fiona looked at him more closely and felt strangely drawn to his bright, blue eyes. “This man is a total stranger,” she thought to herself. “Do I dare?”

News reports over the next few days reported that Fiona, the short, stout, red-haired teenager who worked at the ice cream stand by the park, had suddenly disappeared. No one ever saw her again.

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