by FM Lepore

Created on: July 30, 2008   Last Updated: June 25, 2009

Cowboy Jim arrived at my resort plenty early that Saturday morning. His swagger and demeanor exuded confidence and it didn't hurt that he was tall, sturdy and handsome in a rugged sort of way. The Stetson he wore was not new, it was worn and the edges appeared frayed and discolored, yet the camel colored chapeau suited him, it complimented his tanned complexion and added to the mystique of the Great American Cowboy.

I enlisted the help of the resort concierge in finding a ranch where a fine city' girl such as I could seek adventure in the Arizona Painted Desert and enjoy the thrill of horse back riding. Although I frequented the cities of Phoenix and Scottsdale I never seem to find the time to giddy up on Trigger, gallop into the sunset or reminisce about Billy Crystal in the movie City Slickers. This time I decided to be different, throw caution to the wind and venture off to some quiet; remote place where buffalo roam and tumble weed play.

"Mornin ma'am, are you Miss Murvore?" drawled Cowboy Jim.

"That depends on who's asking" I quipped, "My name is Ms. Morone, but please call me Justine, or Jess for short."

I was too concerned that cowboy would butcher my name and call me moron, so I opted for the easiest solution. Stick with your first name, in fact truncate your first name; KISS METHOD: Keep It Simple Stupid.

"Ma'am, nice to meet you; I have my truck in the front so we can get going, it's gonna take us bout twenty minutes to get to the ranch."

"OK, what's your name, Mr.?" I wanted to say Cowboy Jim, but I reminded myself that Jim was not his real name.

"Call me Max; Jess" and with that proclamation Max gave me a wink and we both hopped into his Chevy and set out to my BIG adventure.

His Chevy truck smelled of leather and Old Spice cologne. The Old Spice scent was familiar, my father would literally soak in the stuff when he and my mother were going out on the town. The strong scent of cologne and leather didn't bother me; at least it didn't smell of horse manure.

My head must have hit the ceiling of his truck at least a half dozen times. There were so many bumps on the dirt road that I felt like I was on a roller coaster and in desperate need of an army helmet.

"Here we GO!" shouted Max, "Nice day for ride in the desert, not too hot, not too cold, just right."

The ranch appeared desolate there weren't many visitors except for some stray dogs and a rooster who was milling about. An elderly man with a smile brimming from ear to ear but in desperate need of dental care

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