STORIES

THE THING ABOUT COWBOYS, CHAPTER 5: The Future He Wants


This is the fifth chapter of a story that will run all week.


Jolene didn’t ask Sam to stay that night, but he did.

She woke in the early morning, tangled in his arms, her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, his skin warm against hers. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. That just because a man made love to you all night didn’t mean he’d be there in the morning.

But then she felt his hand at the small of her back, rubbing slow circles against her skin, and her chest tightened.

He was awake.

And he wasn’t leaving.

“Morning,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She swallowed hard. “Morning.”

For a long moment, they just lay there, the silence comfortable, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. But then Sam shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with that steady gaze of his.

“You thinking about running?” he asked.

Jolene stiffened. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you’re looking at me like I’m gonna disappear.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out brittle. “Can you blame me?”

Sam’s expression softened. “I ain’t Emory, Jolene.”

She knew that. Sam wasn’t the kind of man who made promises he didn’t intend to keep.

But it wasn’t just about him.

It was about her.

She had spent years learning how to survive on her own. Taking care of Little Emory. Building a life where no man could leave her shattered again. And now Sam was here, threatening to undo all of it.

“Look,” he said, reaching for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “I know you’ve been burned. I know you got a kid to think about. And I know you don’t trust easy.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “But I want to be here, Jolene. If you’ll let me.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

He was asking her to trust him.

To believe in something more than just nights tangled in the sheets.

Jolene had spent so long convincing herself she didn’t need that. That she was better off on her own.

But when she looked at Sam—at the patience in his eyes, at the quiet certainty in his touch—she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

Sam smiled, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Good thing I do.”

And just like that, the walls she had spent years building started to crack.

Jolene had never brought a man around her boy before.

She told herself it was just casual at first—Sam stopping by the hardware store when she worked, sitting across from her at the Dairy Twin, coming over some nights when Little Emory was asleep. But the truth was, Sam was slipping into her life in ways she hadn’t planned.

And Little Emory noticed.

At first, he didn’t say much. He’d just watch. Big brown eyes, too wise for a boy his age, tracking Sam whenever he came around. He was polite, but guarded. And Jolene didn’t blame him.

One evening, Sam stayed for supper. It was nothing fancy—fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans from a can. Sam cleaned his plate, then ruffled Little Emory’s hair. “Your mama’s a hell of a cook.”

Little Emory shrugged, staring down at his plate. “She’s always been.”

Jolene heard the unspoken words beneath it. She’s always been, even without you here.

Sam must’ve heard it too, because his smile dimmed just a little. He leaned back in his chair, studying the boy. “You like trucks?”

Little Emory hesitated, then nodded.

Sam pulled his keys from his pocket and twirled them between his fingers. “Come on. I’ll let you sit behind the wheel.”

Little Emory looked at Jolene for permission. She gave a small nod, even though her heart clenched. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this—Sam and her son forming any kind of bond.

She watched from the porch as Sam lifted Little Emory onto the bench seat of his old Ford. She saw the way the boy’s hands ran over the cracked steering wheel, the way Sam pointed out the gear shift, explaining how it worked.

And then she saw the way Little Emory smiled.

It had been a long time since he’d smiled like that.

Jolene wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the emotions building in her chest.

She wanted to believe in this. In him.

But she wasn’t sure if she could survive another man leaving.

And then, early one Saturday morning just after the sun had risen above the horizon and was starting to burn off the dew on the Bel Air, Sam pulled up in his truck.  And there was something behind it.  Something Jolene had never seen before.  She had to look out the window over the kitchen sink twice for it to register exactly what it was.

The 1966 Frolic travel trailer was a single-axle model finished in white and turquoise. Jolene dropped the drying towel in the dish water as she tried to make out the details while Sam brought the rig to a full stop outside the front door.  Exterior details included hinged windows, aluminum rain deflectors, side-marker lights, taillights, a rear bumper, and Frolic badging. Dual five-gallon propane tanks were mounted on the tongue, and shore-utility connections consisted of a freshwater inlet and a drain. A residential-style 110-volt power outlet was located on the camp side of the trailer.

Jolene ran through the living room and out through the front door like a five year old on Christmas morning.  Sam barely had the door open before she made it to the camper and peered inside.  The kitchenette was outfitted with a gas range, a stainless steel sink, an exhaust hood, storage cabinets, and a 110-volt power outlet, while the dinette featured bench seating, a fold-down laminate tabletop, overhead storage, and four windows with curtains.

“This is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fricking life!” Jolene shouted as she stepped up into the trailer.  The sleeping area offered a mattress, a wall sconce, under-bed storage, a 110-volt power outlet, and a window with a woven shade and bamboo trim. A crank-operated ceiling vent was located overhead.  Sam stood outside, watching her take it all in.  He knew he’d made the right call, even if it drained his bank account to a point lower than he felt comfortable with.

The first trip they took with the camper was only out to Lake Leon, dipping their toe into the experience while dipping their toe into the cool waters of the lake.  Subsequent trips would take them further and further from Fort Stockton, to state parks all over Southwest Texas.

For a while, things were good. Real good.

Sam wasn’t just in Jolene’s life—he was in Little Emory’s too. He took the boy fishing, showed him how to throw a proper punch, let him ‘help’ change the oil in his Ford. Jolene caught herself smiling more, laughing at things she wouldn’t have before. She let herself believe, piece by piece, that maybe this time was different.

Sam talked about buying a place. Nothing fancy, just a little patch of land on the edge of town. A house with enough room for all of them. Maybe even some horses.

Jolene started to imagine it. Waking up next to him every morning. Cooking dinner together in the kitchen. Sitting on the porch, watching Little Emory ride across the pasture.

She let herself hope.  With each overnight trip in the little Frolic, things seemed more real.  They seemed almost like a family.  Or like she’d always imagined one to be, anyway.  

While camping, they’d send Little Emory out on scavenger hunts, giving him clues where to find all the objects they’d hidden for him to discover.  Meanwhile, Sam and Jolene would have the door closed on the camper, but the jealousy windows opened so they could hear Little Emory in the distance while Sam pulled down her Levi’s as she bent over the fold-down laminate dinette.  The way he made love to her when there was a chance of being discovered made the intensity she felt even more heightened than when they were in her own bed in her little rented house.  The irony that the little trailer was called ‘Frolic’ was not lost on the couple.

The companionship of another adult, the physical touch of a man who seemed to crave her body in ways she never thought possible, and a future that all of a sudden had hope gave Jolene an outlooked she’d long ago given up on.

And then, the universe reminded her just how cruel it could be.



6 responses to “THE THING ABOUT COWBOYS, CHAPTER 5: The Future He Wants”

  1. I always know it’s a good story when the responses start with “Well Hell” or “Oh Hell”. We’re two for three. That’s exactly why Brother Bob quit reading the blog, thank the Lord.

  2. Oh hell. I always dread these stories where at some point, the Captain uses some variation of the phrase “… and that’s when things took a turn.”

    • Yup !
      Just when things seem to be going too well ….

      Tune in tomorrow,
      Return to the theater next Saturday,
      or dwell on the cliffhanger until next season?
      Who really killed JR?

  3. Well Hell,
    I have gotten behind on my nightstand reading, just been plumb tuckered out lately…. but got a short reprieve from my honey do lists (that is multiple lists, not multiple honeys) and started “the thing about cowboys”
    And well I’ll be dipped, if I am not reading the next Taylor Sheridan less the biceps….
    Hat tip to the Cap and a crows feet wink of the eye to buttercup
    Now where are my Tony Lamas?

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