Slim Jim was a size five cowboy in a ten-gallon hat. At the age of twenty-one, he was small, short with a wide square jaw and skin browned and toughened by the blazing Southwest sun. He spoke when necessary, his voice soft and pleasing. Mostly though he was silent as he herded cattle through the red rock and desert of New Mexico. At night, the chill sage scented air sent him to his bedroll laid out on the hard ground in front of his campfire. Coyote howls, cows bawling and an occasionaly Spade Cooley tune heard up at the cookhouse on a wind-up phonograph were his music.
A large hole in his boot and a torn leather hackamore bit strap drove him into town. While the repairs were being done, he moseyed over to a restaurant off the dusty street where love smote him like a branding iron.
His waitress was as fresh faced as a newborn calf and had a smile as sweet as apple pie. She served him hot cornbread and a bowl of pinto beans laced with fiery hot sauce. His stomach and heart burned.
Jim perched on his stool and swiveled around to observe cowpokes tucking in at wooden slab tables. The men banterd and bragged, hoping to catch the eye of the winsome waitress. He must do somthing and fast. However, he couldn't think of a single clever thing to say. He knew he wasn't much to look at in his worn western shirt and Levis. His dark hair was all creased down where his hat had sat.
He scraped the last bean from the bottom of his bowl and in honor of her smile said, "Miss, could I have a piece of that apple pie in the case there?"
"Why sure," she said, "Are you from around these parts or just passin' through?"
His tongue grew large in his mouth. "Um, ah, I'm a hand at the Morley ranch just south of here."
"I'm Elaine," she said, smiling directly at him.
"I'm Jim, but the men call me Slim most of the time."
She turned to retrieve his pie and he looked his fill at her round womanly body. A checked apron circled her trim waist and tied in the back like a bow on a lovely package.
"Hey, we're runnin" outa' coffee over here." one of the burly men at a table shouted at Elaine.
"Hold your britches on, I'm serving Slim Jim here." She set the plate in front of him and poured him a second cup of coffee.
"Anything else?" she asked.
He cleared his throat and swallowed. "I saw a poster up at the saddle shop about a barn dance. I was wonderin' if you were goin'?"
"Are you askin?"
He nodded his head.
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At Jim and Elaine's 40th wedding anniversary, they were asked about how they met. He recounted their initial meeting. Then he said, "Here's the funny part, when we went to that frolic, I had absolutely no idea how to dance." We all laughed. Then he turned to Elaine, took her hands in his and said to her,... "but she taught me."
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