Date: Mon, 30 May 2011 08:41:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: jim ford <sojourn1950@yahoo.com>
Subject: Unclaimed Hearts chapter 1

Some hearts are won through wooing... Some are won through chivalry...some
are won with patience and perseverance. Some... just have to be claimed.

This story is fiction. The characters are adults in adult situations.

Warnings: The only person you can ever hope to truly know is yourself.
Trust no one; use condoms. If you are not of legal age or in a jurisdiction
in which this document is illegal, go way. This is my story. Please respect
the copyright. Sojourn1950@yahoo.com


"I'm going to tell you this because you insisted. Pay attention, I don't
like to repeat myself. Get comfortable this may take a bit. Oh, what the
hell do I care, this was your idea. Just sit your ass down."


I didn't get many visitors. A county maintained gravel road doesn't
encourage travel let alone tourists. I had to fight to keep them from
paving it. I don't like people. The only human I had seen within a month,
within miles of the house was Myrtle. I saw her almost everyday, except
Sunday. I didn't actually see her. Just the evidentiary junk mail. If I
mailed off a bill, she dropped the flag on my mailbox to let me know she
got it. I didn't check the mail everyday, still don't. Mail has patience.
Fred, the milk delivery man came once a week. I'd rarely seen him. He came
way to early for me. I just knew that on Wednesday I had to get stuff off
my porch or else it would freeze or sour. It had done both. Not at the same
time. Back then seeing Myrtle and Fred was enough for me.

I can't say that I was lonely. Not like some folks who set around refusing
to feel anything else. There were times, when it got like that I'd drive to
the big city and see what I could find. I wasn't looking for anything near
permanent, just something to get me by.

It was on one of those forays, that I picked up a hitchhiker. Those days
things were different. Hitchhiking was an acceptable form of locomotion.
I'd used it myself in college on those weekends I wanted to come home.

He was standing alongside the WPA highway. He looked to be between
twenty-five and thirty.  Close cropped blond hair was a common enough
style. The O. D. green "Ike" jacket and highly polished combat boots
combined with the duffle bag at his feet were a dead give away. Army,
either on leave or Furlough. I stopped about fifteen feet before him. He
left his bag and approached the passenger side of the pick up. He wasn't
assuming anything, I liked that.

Up close I could see he had blue eyes and a smooth, pleasant face. Some
women might say he was handsome. It was my job to know what women thought
of as handsome. His smile was friendly but you could see wariness too.
Stopping at distance from the door he said, "Good afternoon." When he got a
close look at me his smile changed. The wariness disappeared. His smile
ripped his whole face open, displaying a mouth full of shiny, white
teeth. It crinkling the skin at the edges of his eyes. For a moment I
considered the idea he thought he knew me. I knew he was a stranger, I
would have remembered him.  I figured he was six feet at one eighty. I had
him by two inches and forty pounds.

I didn't smile I just nodded. I'm not a conversationalist. Yeah, I know, I
was gonna be a teacher. Well, math is more doing than saying. My nature was
to think more, do more and talk less. The fact that I probably had a couple
of inches in height and reach plus forty pounds on him let me take my
ease. The added fact that I kept a pistol between my door and my seat
didn't hurt none either.

The windows were down `cause spring came in like a lamb and promised a hot,
probably dry summer. "'Where you headed?" It was an open ended question
that allowed him to respond with anything from a compass direction to his
life's story. I hadn't smiled yet, but I hadn't frowned yet either. We both
knew no matter where he was headed, I was offering a ride when traffic was
scarce. If I took him up the road a half mile, dropped him off and turned
around, he'd be that much farther along.

"I'm actually heading out west. Maybe California, not sure... just mostly
away."

"Throw your bag in back and hop in. I can take you as far as Dayton. You
can catch a ride to anywhere on highway 40." I didn't ask why "mostly
away". I don't mess in other people's business, especially strangers.

He sat almost sideways against the corner. One arm squaring the window the
other over the back of the seat. That arm was bent so it wasn't close
enough to make me feel uncomfortable. I liked that. He looked me up and
down as I maneuvered the pickup back onto the blacktop. I stood a little
over six feet two inches tall. I weighed in about two twenty. I had a
little fat camouflaging my six pack. But on the sundown side of thirty, a
man's entitled. I had black hair and blue eyes and an almost permanent five
o'clock shadow.  I figured his gawking gave me my license. I didn't try to
hide my looking.

Closer inspection confirmed my estimation of his height and weight. He
wrestled himself out of his Jacket. As he did the breeze through the truck
brought a pleasant combination of Old Spice and clean sweat. He had a solid
build. He had sandy hair and blue eyes. Looking at him closer, seems that
half smile he first gave was probably a permanent fixture. He was clean
shaven and his clothes weren't dirty. He wore jeans, like me, and a light
blue oxford shirt over a tee shirt. I can't stand a tee shirt until it gets
well below freezing.

After I got a good look at sizing him up. He said, "You live around here?"
I figured that was a dumb question considering that he could see I had no
luggage and a pickup ain't the most favored vehicle for long distance
travel. It does, however, beat the hell out of the "shoe leather express"
he'd been riding. Still rather than being rude, "Yep." And to show that he
was in good company, "You?"

He turned that half smile back into his, probably patented, genuine good
hearted, glad to meet you kind that made his eyes crinkle at the edges and
warmed the insides of anyone on the receiving end. Just to show me he
understood, "Nope."

I smiled. He offered his hand, "Bill Weekly, like Life magazine." His grip
was firm. I noticed his hands were smaller and his fingers were longer. I
felt no calluses.

"Joshua Tibbits, glad to meet you Bill, as in dollar, right?" the crinkled
smile returned.

"Ok, Josh, can we get to normal conversation? I'm not the brightest bulb in
the chandelier. I'm worried this talking in single syllables is going to
lower, my already dangerously low, IQ. I don't know if I can even figure
out which of us just asked the more dimwitted question."

I smiled again, "Well, if you're keeping score Bill Weekly, I figure you
get extra points for asking the first one."

"Ok. Now is a good time to change the subject. How about some getting to
know you conversation?" His arm went back to squaring the window the other
seemed a little closer now. Not close enough to bother me, just closer.

"Alright. But, I'm not much of a conversationalist. How about you talk,
I'll listen and then I'll answer your questions about me."

Bill told of his life growing up on a farm out in Kansas. Oldest, with two
younger sisters. Got drafted into the army after his sophomore year in
college for failing to file for a deferral. Two years in Germany. Traveled
around Europe as much as leave would allow. When his time was up, he was
mustered out in D. C. He was heading back to Kansas to help with the farm
and continue his education. His family was pushing him to marry the
neighboring farmer's daughter. He had dated the girl a in high school and
later they dated a bit in college. They got along great. She wrote and he
wrote back. His folks got the impression it was a lot more serious than it
was. His Mother was already planning a June wedding. The letters they had
written were never "love letters".  His family figured twenty-seven was old
enough to have sewn all his wild oats. She was a nice girl who happened to
be an only child. Her folks apparently approved of the unconfirmed
engagement.

I could certainly understand their wanting a man like Bill as a son-in-law.

He had missed his connection in Cleveland and then got robbed, tickets,
watch and cash. At least they left him his wallet.

I was beginning to wonder if he was one of those, you know, glass half full
idiots.

He had called home to tell his folks what had happened. They wanted to send
money. He refused... I liked that. He decided hitchhiking would give him
time to clear his head and decide... Hitched or Hollywood. He would head
toward home. But right now if home meant marriage, he would go on to
California.

He had caught a ride out this far with a chicken rancher and had walked
since before five this morning. Bill fell silent. When it lasted longer
than I thought normal, I glanced over and saw his head leaned back, eyes
closed and mouth slightly ajar.

That was the first time I could ever recall that silence bothered me. I
liked the sound of his voice. He didn't have an accent, it just sounded
like a voice I could get used to hearing. I am not a conversationalist. I
swear this was the most I had ever listened to any man since college... I
wanted more. I was tempted to wake him... almost.

I don`t like people. Well not most of them anyway. They seem mostly to lie
from the git go. Like they have to impress you cause they somehow don't
feel like they are good enough, or they want you to feel that you aren`t
good enough. I figure most folks probably lie to themselves more than they
do to others. I don't like people.

Bill, I figured wasn't like a lot of people. He seemed just straight up as
a pole cat's tale, stink and all. There was something honest in his smile
and in his voice. It was like he was talking without thinking like most
liars do. He was either the best liar this side of dogdom or he was an
honest man. I chose to believe the later.

I thought about what he told me about being robbed and all. I could tell
that the boots he wore were scuffed no more than a day's wear would effect
the polished shine. He probably put those on when he started walking. I
considered where he got dropped off at that chicken ranch, to where I had
picked him up. He had made good time and just as likely he walked the whole
way. I completely understood about his wanting to think long and hard about
marriage. I always knew that marriage wouldn't agree with me. A few, well,
a couple of young ladies had tried to change my mind. I am sure they are
married now and a lot happier than if they had hooked me.

Bill put a crimp in my plans. I didn't feel it would be proper for me to
tell him I was coming to town to sin. I figured I would get him something
to eat and take him across town to Julie's "Dine and Drive".  There maybe
he could catch a ride with a truck driver heading west. He had been asleep
for over thirty minutes when I pulled into a family owned diner. The food
was good and plentiful for the price. I was going to wake him after I
parked.

I guess the turn into the parking lot woke him.  He didn't just wake
up... he exploded! His eyes bugged out. Fists clinched ready for action.
His faced formed a scowl as he sucked wind through clinched teeth. Spittle
was running down his chin. I was still in the process of parking. I wasn't
sure what was happening with Bill. I eased my left hand down and felt the
comfort of cool steel of my Smith & Wesson thirty-eight. It was short and
stubby. It wasn't pretty but it offered one hellavu convincing argument
toward keeping things peaceful. You may wonder why a man like me kept a gun
handy. Believe me, it was for their protection... not mine.

 Bill didn't attack, he didn't make a move toward me. Once I considered it,
his reaction was purely defensive. I coasted to a stop in front of the
diner. Bill blinked and relaxed, just that fast. He rubbed his hands across
his face and when he moved them I could see his embarrassment. I let my
pistol slide back into it's hiddy hole.

"Josh, I'm sorry. Ever since... well I'm just sorry. You can let me out
here and thanks for the ride. I'm sorry I fell asleep. That's the first
time I ever feel asleep when I've hitched a ride with someone. Guess I
didn't realize I was so tired. Anyway, thanks again for the ride", this
last as he was opening his door.


"Hold on Bill, this ain't your drop off point. That's clear the other side
of town on highway forty. I just stopped here so we can get something to
eat. I eat here pretty much every time I come to the big city. Were gonna
eat then I'm going to go over to the feed store over on the main
highway. There's a little diner close by where you can nurse a cup coffee
and maybe catch a ride with a west bound truck driver. I'm hungry. You in?
A man shouldn't turn down an invitation from a fellow when the food is this
good. Let's go."

I got out of the truck. Everything about Bill made me feel good except his
waking up like he was about to be beaten. Beaten. Robbed and beaten.. Now
it made sense. Bill woke thinking he was gonna be robbed again. I liked
everything about Bill.

I didn't have to look around to know that he was following me. I held the
door open then followed him. Once inside he looked to me to choose a booth
or table or the counter. I indicated a booth against the window just in
front of my truck. I couldn't help but think we could have ordered from the
truck if Bill had attacked while I was trying to park.

He refused everything but coffee. I was insisting that he order a meal and
we was arguing back and forth like an old married couple. He was courteous
and I was insistent.  Finally I ordered coffee too. The waitress was only
too amused watching us. When she left I tried not to glare at the hard
headed dumb ass across the table.

"My daddy always told me not to argue with a fool. People around won't be
able to tell the difference. He never told me how to deal with a hard
headed bastard like you." Bill was wearing a smug look, like he was
winning. That pissed me off. "Come to think of it, he did say something
about a mule and a two by four. I don`t have one in my truck but when we
get back to the farm I can run on out to the tractor shed and get one. That
ought to knock that smug look off you face."

I was watching Bill with his elbows on the table taking his first sip of
coffee. When I finished talking he eyes jerked up to meet mine with a
question. I was wondering if maybe he thought I was serious about that two
by four. That questioning look faded into one of those crinkly smiles. I
couldn't figure out what was so funny. I mean the dumb son of a bitch was
probably starving to death and his pride wouldn't let him accept a free
meal. I finally realized that I had told a complete stranger he was going
home with me. My face grew hotter than my cup of coffee. Now I had my
elbows on the table trying to hide behind my cup. I am only too aware that
when I blush it stands out like a sore thumb between my black hair, blue
eyes and five o'clock shadow. The few times I've seen it, it looked neon
pink. Grinning full on at my blush, Bill sat his cup back into the saucer
and asked, "Josh don't you think you ought to at least ask the little lady
before you go inviting a stranger into your home?"

I admit I was rattled. I only like a few people. If someone shows up at my
place uninvited I send them on their way. Point is I don't like people and
here it's like I was insisting this stranger come home with me.

"Bill, I'm hungry. I not gonna sit here and sip coffee while my stomach is
thinking my throat's been cut. I'm gonna ask again, will you please eat
with me. I hate to eat alone. I sure can't eat with somebody watching me.
It like peeing in front of strangers. I can do it but it takes a little
longer and it don't feel right."

While I was saying this I got the waitresses attention. I ordered a double
country fried steak, smothered with gravy. Hash browns, turnip greens and
Biscuits. She had interrupted Bill saying again how he wasn't hungry and
coffee was all he wanted. I told her to bring two orders. As I said that I
was giving Bill my `don't say shit' look. He must have understood my threat
cause after she left he just said, "Thank you, Josh."

I have a hearty appetite. Bill must have a hollow leg. He ate his order and
one of my steaks. As he sopped up the last smidgen of gravy I couldn't help
it, I figured I owed him one. "So, Mr. Weekly, how much do you eat when you
are hungry?" He blushed. I thought that made him look adorable... I don't
like that word. But, it's the right word. I wanted to take him in my arms
and squeeze him to death like a small child squeezes a new puppy. He was
prettier than a speckled pup. I convinced him to have a piece of apple pie
with ice cream, more coffee and we were done.

I knew he wasn't gonna take no cash from me even if I gave him my address
and told him he could send it back. I contented myself in knowing I had
forced him to already accept far more than he would have liked. We were
almost at the feed store, where I never buy feed. I got nothing to
feed. But, I figured I had better buy something or Bill would think I lied
to him. I bought a hundred pounds of dog food. Bill helped me load it.

The diner was just next door and there were at least a half a dozen Tractor
Trailers parked in the lot and probably more on the other side. Bill had no
money, no prospects and no real direction. He was as he said, "mostly
moving away from". We were standing on either side of my pickup truck. He
had his hand already on the straps of his duffle bag.

I still don't know why I did it. It's not like me. I leaned my forearms on
the truck bed rail. "Bill, it don't make much sense for you to head off
without a penny to your name. Look here, I got things around the farm that
need some attention. I can give you a place to sleep and food and pay you
enough to maybe get you to the next stopping place. I ain't talking long
term. It won't take more than a couple of weeks to get things lined
out. You'd would be doing me a favor. Some things need two pairs of hands."
I knew that he felt obliged to me for the meal... asking a favor would be
giving him an opportunity to relieve that obligation.

Even as I said all this I was wondering who this man was that he could get
in my truck and under me skin in a matter of hours? I knew that if he left
now, I'd remember him for a long time.

He searched my face with his hand still on his bag. Finally, he said,
"Joshua, I am not sure this is such a good idea. You don't know me. I don't
know you. We really are strangers. I could be a killer on the run. You,
could have a nasty habit of feeding strangers to your hogs. But, truth be
told, I haven't had a better offer, in a while. As long as you understand
that after two weeks, I'll be moving on."

"In two weeks, I'll bring you back here so you can be on your way... away
form. We shook hands and got back into the truck.

I was faced with a couple of problems and a dilemma. First, the house was
not clean. Second, I had almost nothing most people describe as food. There
were cans and some of the new "TV" dinners in the freezer. I have on more
than one occasion eaten spinach from the can.? The dilemma was how to
explain one hundred pounds of dog food when I don't have a dog.

I create fiction for a living... I can do this.

"Bill, how do you feel about cleaning the inside of a house?"

"You mean a mop and broom kind of cleaning or are we talking shovel and
rake?" That asshole smiled at my discomfort.

"The broom and mop kind with dusting and dishes and laundry thrown in."

"Well what my Mother didn't make me learn the Army did. So, I guess I'm
fair to middlin in all of those. What kind of laundry set up are we talking
about? Rocks and a running stream or something a little more up to date?"
That smile never left his face.

"I have an automatic washer and a gas dryer, a dish washer, a vacuum
cleaner, several brooms and mops." I could have mentioned the stand alone
freezer except it had been empty and unplugged so long I wasn't sure it
still worked. "All I need is someone to use them. Now that I think about
it, I am not so sure you are up to the challenge."

"The more you talk the more I get the impression we are really talking
shovel and rake. Guess will wait and see. It's beginning to sound like
Hercules and the Augean stables." Still the smile.

"Well if you're going to make the comparison, I can tell you two
things. You're not Hercules and you will be pleasantly surprised. I pick up
after myself. I just don't like to clean. I tried to find a woman to come
in and clean once a week but none liked the idea of coming out into the
middle of nowhere and cleaning up after a single man living alone.  I
hesitated a moment and then, "Bill?"

The look he gave me was clearly one of suspicion. His left eyebrow cocked
really high. Doing that probably helped those crinkles when he
smiled. Maybe I should try that sometime. I liked the crinkles. I realized
I had been watching him too long when the right front tire ran off the
blacktop. I corrected, blushed and committed my eyes to the road.

"Josh were you about to ask a question or do you just like the sound of my
name?" Smartass.

"Yeah, I, mean no, I mean, ah hell. Bill, do you know how to cook?" This
time there was no smile. It was a gut busting laugh. "Look here, Goddamnit,
if you're gonna laugh at me I can stop this truck and let go your way." He
ignored the threat. Son of a bitch! I thought about slowing down to make my
point. I almost did.  The laugh ran until it ran out. He had to wipe his
eyes. Shit head.

Then he got control and apologized, almost. "Geez, Josh, don't get your
panties in a wad. I was only having some fun. It doesn't matter how bad
your place is, we can get it straightened out. Might take a couple of days,
a Farmall and a trailer." He snickered at his own joke. I scowled. "Josh,
you said you live alone, right?"

Impatient now, even after the apology... that was an apology, right? "Yes,
I live alone. Have now, four almost four years. Why?... and this better not
be a goddamned joke."

That smile tickled his lips like a fly on a fresh cut watermelon, and was
just as annoying. "Josh, if you don't cook, what do you have in your house
that can be cooked?"

"Fuck!"

"Yeah, I like that too. But, what do you have to cook. Four years and no
cooking can't leave a lot of choices. I am a really good cook. But, I can't
make something out of nothing. After all I ate today, I'll probably never
eat again. But, if I am going to earn my keep, there probably should be
some food to cook."

"Well, I've got a large refrigerator, a large freezer. A pantry stocked
with four year old can goods... Fresh milk, butter, cream and eggs are
delivered once a week... that's how I know to throw out whatever gets
replaced. The freezer has been unplugged for a long time... I think it
still works. The freezer over the refrigerator works `cause that's where I
keep TV dinners. I can scramble eggs and toast bread so I'm not totally
lost in the kitchen... and, I, I can cook TV dinners. I've done alright for
four years without a cleaner or a cook."

"So, you have nothing to cook. Sounds like your pantry has to be cleaned
out. Why would you ask me if I can cook, if you have nothing to cook?"

"Look, I was just asking so I could figure how to make the most effective
use of your skills."

"Bill, do you know how to shop for stuff to cook?"

Shut up! I know what you're thinking... I have made it ok. You got no right
to think I'm a loser. Even Bill didn't smile this time.


We stopped at a Supermarket and walked every aisle. I told Bill to get
whatever we needed. After asking me if I had a particular basic item about
three times and getting a puzzled look and a shrug three times, he quit
asking. We walked every aisle of the supermarket with him asking me if I
like this or that. Ladies all smiled at us and said hello.

That is until we were in the produce section and Bill asked me to get a
head of Iceberg lettuce. Lettuce was at the other end of the aisle. When I
got about halfway down the aisle, he called to me, "Josh honey, are you
sure you want cabbage, you know it gives you such gas." My mouth dropped
open and I couldn't move. I could feel my face catch fire... I couldn't
move to put it out.

There were three ladies, one with two small children. All looked from Bill
to me and back again. Bill was on the edge of busting a gut when he
realized he had gone too far. He turned in the general direction of the
ladies, smiled that smile and said, "I can't wait to get home and tell the
wives about this. They are gonna crack up when I describe the way his face
looks right now. From one he asked, "Would you describe his coloring as
neon pink? All three ladies turned to verify the shading of my blush, so
Bill could properly describe it to our wives.  There was some discussion
apparently about an Avon lipstick or nail polish, or some such shit.

Once we were out of earshot, he apologized profusely. When I ignored him he
took my arm and looked me in the eye and said, "Bill, I swear I'll never
say anything like that to you again, forgive me." He looked down at where
he was still holding my arm. He blushed lightly and jerked his hand away.

I thought how that whole thing would have been funny... if it had happened
to someone else. Hell, I didn't know these people, why should I even give a
shit what they think? I don't even like most people.

At the checkout stand, as I was writing out the check I stopped and asked,
"Honey, did you remember that salve?" You know." Indicating his crotch,
with my pen. "You know, for that rash?"

Without missing a beat, "Now sugarlumps, that would clear up on it's own if
you'd stop... you know." The cashier was somebody's grandmother. She
verified my check and license and hurriedly helped the bag boy bag our last
few items. Our shopping filled two carts. I wondered how much was what we
needed and how much was because we were having a good time. In the parking
lot, the kid helped load the paper bags into the truck bed.

Once finished I tipped him fifty cents. He said, "thank you sir." looking
at Bill then at me again he smiled and said, "You two guys are hep. I mean
real gone... I don't care what Mona thinks. You guys are great." With that
he turned the carts away and was gone.

I didn't look at Bill. I just got in and we drove away. At the edge of town
I stopped for gas. Bill, went to the men's room while I sat in the
truck. The attendant washed the windshield, checked the oil and water. He
offered to check the tire pressure. By that time Bill was back. I handed
the attendant a five and told him to keep the change.

Neither had spoken since we left the supermarket. "Are you always a big
tipper? First the bag boy, now this guy. You only got a little over ten
gallons... you gave him more in that tip than he makes in an hour. Maybe we
should discuss whether you are gonna tip me by the meal or just one really
big one at the end of the two weeks.

"Lovers don't get tips." I had to see his reaction.

Bill, didn't blush. His jaw went slack and his eyes opened wide. Finally he
spat and sputtered, "Are you, are we, I mean I never... I mean."

As much as I was enjoying his discomfort and my revenge, I cut him some
slack. "Relax Bill, I have never done that either."


"Are you getting all of this. I'll tell it in my own time. I ain't gonna be
rushed. It didn't start out the way it ended."