Bobby's Song 2: California Dreamin'

By Rick Nicholson

Bobbys Song - California dreamin, is a collection of stories about two friends. One friend, Rick Nelson is a retired contractor now working part-time as a Private Investigator. The other friend, Bob Moore who is dead joins Rick in Spirit form in helping to solve various mysteries in both the spirit, and living world. Their adventures take them from one side of the Country to the other, and back again. Sometimes even traveling into the Past to help a Spirit find peace. Bob and Rick come to the very edge of death at times, as well as witnessing Gods justice being dealt out to those who deserve it. Along the way, certain gifts and or special abilities are given to both friends to help them with their work, while meeting some very interesting characters along the way... Both living and dead. Each story is a new adventure for our average everyday heros. And as time passes, their friendship grows and stays strong even though they live in two different worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491795569

Rick Nicholson

Rick Nicholson was a building contractor for over thirty years. Now retired and living in the Irish Hills area of Southeastern Michigan with his wife, Christy and their Saint Bernard Gracie. Their daughter Danielle, and granddaughter Amie live nearby with Danielle’s fiancé Andre Renier. “Life is good when you’re with the one’s you love,” says Rick.

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Bobby’s Song 2

California Dreamin’

Rick Nicholson

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Bobby’s Song 2

California Dreamin’

Copyright

© 2016 Richard Nicholson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-9555-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-9556-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016906729

Print information available on the last page.

iUniverse rev. date: 04/26/2016

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Comments

Chapter 1 The Highwayman

Chapter 2 Chloe

Chapter 3 Aunt Pattie

Part 1. Happiness Ranch

Part 2. Bobby Flame

Chapter 4 My Brother Jon

Part 1. Bad news

Part 2. The ‘North Ave.’ Bus

Chapter 5 The Weatherbee’s

Chapter 6 Ronnie and Tara

Part 1. Teenagers

Part 2. Bill and Debbie

Chapter 7 The Demon

Chapter 8 My Guardian

Part 1. Damn dreams

Part 2. Edmund, Bob and Malcolm

Chapter 9 The Curse

Part 1. Bodega Bay

Part 2. The Demon meets Mom

Chapter 10 A gift for an old friend

Part 1. Clarisse

Part 2. Florence and Donnie

Part 3. I’m Here

Bonus story Bonus Story: Grandpa Carl

This book is dedicated to my wife, Christy. From the moment we met and fell in love, she has been my everything. My lover, best friend and mother to my child. I can’t imagine life without you, and don’t want to…as the song goes: I can’t live if living is without you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In writing this book I’d be remiss if I didn’t first and foremost acknowledge my lovely wife, Christy. She’s put up with my obsession with writing the stories as they came to me. Then helped me every step of the way, from reading to editing. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.

Thanks Hun, love you…Rick

Next, I’d like to thank my wonderfully talented Granddaughter, Amie for drawing most of the illustrations (some with Nana’s help). I can’t imagine being any prouder of you. You have already become a most wonderful young woman. Love you always… Pop Pop.

And finally, I like to thank my good pal, Bob Moore for all the good times that we had together when he was alive, that are now fond memories for me as well as inspiration for my stories. Thanks buddy, your pal Rick

INTRODUCTION

The stories in the book are a continuation of the adventures of two pals that somehow through fate and divine intervention, have kept their friendship going, even after one friend was killed. Rick Nelson, a part time Private Investigator with the help of his pal Bob Moore’s (who’s been dead several years) Spirit, try to put things right for sad and displaced Spirits who have come seeking their help. Through each adventure, the two unconventional Shamus’s do help some of the needy apparitions, as well as deal out justice and retribution to the evil and naughty Spirits they encounter; that deserve it. Along the way, they both are given and acquire new abilities or ‘gifts’ that help them in their investigations. At times, a few hearts get broken as well as ‘lifted’ in Bob and Rick’s constant quest for the truth and justice.

COMMENTS

After reading the first Bobby’s Song and now the sequel Bobby’s Song California Dreamin it’s really a chance to reflect on one’s life and all the people that have influenced us; that we never take enough time with and appreciate them for how they have made us into who we are today… Rick’s book is inspiring, genuine and makes you stop and appreciate life and what we all take too much for granted.

Thank you Rick for sharing Bobby’s Song California Dreamin with all of us! Jerry Paulsen

Gerald Paulsen

President/CEO Paulsen Productions Inc.

Chicago, Illinois

They say that there is a thin veil that separates us from those that have passed on. Rick pulls back that veil and takes us on a journey with an old friend that’s both fun and intriguing. Adventurous stories that stimulate both the mind, and one’s emotions! A great read for anyone, but all the better if you knew the characters.

Paul Mitchell

Retired California Department of Forestry

Lake Havasu, Arizona

Bobby’s Song was such a wonderful book. When Rick and Christy told me that Rick had another book almost finished, I told them I would love to read it. I think I was drawn in at first because I knew who wrote it and wanted to read it for that reason. But once I started reading it, not because I knew the author, the chapters just kept getting better and better. I usually don’t read many books, but this one kept me wanting more and more. I can’t wait to read Rick’s new book. I know it’ll be as great as the first one. Thank you for writing such a wonderful book. I hope everyone likes it as much as I did.

Keisha Ford

Medical Assistant

Brooklyn, Michigan

CHAPTER 1

The Highwayman

M y dead buddy, Bob Moore and I have had so many brilliant adventures… Ever since that day, about four years ago when I stopped by that little road side memorial, set up on the spot where he was killed in a car crash. On that day the spirit of my dead pal appeared to me and blew my mind… I mean shit man, how many people in the world can say they have a relationship with the ghost of a dead friend? I can, and man it’s a real ‘Hoot’ at times I’m here to tell ya.

So, with all that has been written about the afterlife (and much of it being total bullshit), I can truly say, now I know something about it after what I’ve experienced. It was not at all like the stories you hear, you know, the folks that claim they have had a past life experience. Either they’ve been interviewed about it on some shock TV show or maybe they’ve written a book about their ‘so called’ experience. Hell, You Tube is full of videos on the subject. Nevertheless, I can truly say I know the honest to Gods truth, after my own episode in the operating room, and for me…I’m never going to share my story in any of those ways; like whoring myself on some Talk Show. No…I’ll just keep it to myself. I am of course real happy and grateful to have been allowed to come back, and I must say I have never felt better in my life. Ever since I was blessed, to be able to see my departed buddy Bob and later on, my Mom as well. As you can imagine my whole life has changed for the better, even if I did have to die to realize it.

The whole experience of what happened in the hospital when I died on the operating table has, and will forever change the way I look at life and the people around me.

It has been about a month now, since I’ve been home from my trip to the hospital and my wife Chrystal has heard ‘most’ of the story. I know I will eventually share everything with her about Bobby and our new strange partnership, including my visit to see my Mother in the afterlife, but for now, she will have to be content with the story I told her. Hell, before I left the hospital there must have been five or six people that asked me about those ten minutes I was clinically dead, including Chrystal and the kids. The story they all got was something like I’ve heard others tell. You know…there was a long white tunnel leading to a bright light at the end. There in the light was the Lord waiting for me, ready to embrace me, but then I heard Chrystal’s prayers and the Lord told me to go back that it wasn’t my time… That’s my story for now, and as the saying goes, ‘I’m sticking to it.’

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Bob has been around a couple of times in fine spirit form since I’ve been home, but we haven’t really had the time for a good chat since Chrystal’s been my shadow every waking moment…although, it does feel good to be loved. As for Bob, heck, even though we communicate telepathically, he has been very gracious and has not wanted to intrude since I’ve been home from the hospital…thanks buddy. And as much as I love spending time with my tall beautiful buxom blonde wife, I wouldn’t mind stepping out for a bit with my pal Bob.

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While sitting at the table eating lunch the other day I saw my friend Bob’s spirit pacing; or should I say floating from one side of the driveway to the other, and waving to me to come out…it seemed pretty important. All right, I’ll be out in a few minutes, I tell him (I am getting a little cabin fever anyway). Honey, I say to Chrystal, I’m going to take a walk. Do you want me to join you? she asked. No Hun, I answered, I want to be alone if that’s okay. As soon as I closed the door, I could see Bob waiting for me by the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Hey dude, he says. Hey man, how you doing? I reply. How am I doing? Dude you’re the one that just got out of the hospital…I’m dead remember. How are you doing…? When is Chrystal going to cut you lose so we can take a ride down to the Moonglow? I’ve got a lot of stuff to fill you in on pal. I guess we can go now if you like buddy, I kinda want to get out anyway, let me just pop my head in the door and say goodbye.

Walking back to tell Chrystal goodbye, I turn and look at Bob pacing in the driveway; and I can’t help but laugh thinking, that he looks a hell of a lot like ‘John Candy’ in that classic comedy, ‘Uncle Buck’ I just saw with my granddaughter while in the hospital. Bob, is shorter of course and he’s wearing his hat turned backwards… He’s still in cargo shorts and those same old beat up seekers he always wore when he was alive.

Hey dude, don’t you know that most folks cross over in the same clothes they were wearing, when they died? Remember what mom always said about having clean underwear on before leaving the house…moms are smart huh? And Rick, I don’t look anything like that guy, he’s much taller and fatter than me, and certainly not as handsome…ya think? says Bob (after listening in, on my thoughts). Not sure if I’d agree with all of that pal, but taller than you that’s true…much, much taller, I replied. Damn Rick, is that a short joke dude? No, of course not, hey I’ll be right back, I tell him, Gotta step in and say goodbye.

Sweetie, I’m taking the Buick out for a cruise, and I’m also going to stop into our favorite watering hole (The Moonglow), if you need me. Okay Hun, be careful, have a nice ride and keep your phone on in case I need you, Chrystal replies. What a gal, eh Bob? She is pal, she’s a real keeper, no doubt about it.

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As we cruise down Highway 193 towards the bar, Bobby is sitting in front with me and I start to feel a little weird. I turn to Bob and say, Dude, I think there might be something wrong with my equilibrium or something because it’s like there’s a long drive-in movie screen on either side of the road with different shit happening on each screen. Can you drive alright? he asked. Yeah man, there’s no problem there. It’s kinda strange because I can drive the car just fine, you know, I can clearly see the road and stay between the lines in my lane. It feels like I’m driving real slow, but then I look down at the speedometer and I can see I’m traveling at 60 mph, what the Hell? Not sure, what to tell ya Rick, except try not to watch any of those events going on that you’re seeing out of the corner of your eyes, and for Christ sake keep your eyes on the road! Let’s just get down to the Moonglow and try to figure it out.

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When we (Bob and I) finally pull up to the bar and go inside, Lenny immediately drops what he’s doing and comes over and greets me with a big hug. Hey Rick, how you doing buddy? he warmly asked. Oh, hey man, I’m fine now, thanks for asking Len…how’s business buddy? I answer back. Can’t complain Rick, you know what they say: who’d listen anyway, he replies. I would brother, I tell him. Lenny is a big man standing maybe six-foot-six and weighing in at maybe two-ninety; he has the chiseled features of the first Marlboro man, but with the kind temperament of Mister Rogers. I always thought he would look just as comfortable on a horse herding cattle or on an oil-rig somewhere in west Texas. When he greets me he accidently lifts me off the floor with his bear hug. Quickly putting me down he starts laughing, then apologizes. He says, Sorry Bro, its just that I missed you and forgot for a moment. I reply, No worries my friend, I missed you too. Lenny just smiles and walks me down to a barstool at the very end of the bar where he always sits. It’s still pretty early yet and I can see a full pot of coffee sitting there so I ask Lenny to pour me a cup. I rather want to stay away from anything with alcohol in it right now, not only because it was Doctors orders, but also because of what’s happening in my head. Cool, he has that French vanilla creamer I like too… Thanks Len."

Hey Rick, did you get the card and those Hot Rod magazines I sent over to the house? Lenny asked. You know I did brother, thanks. While sitting there catching up with Lenny, I can’t help but to see black and grey images of past events all around me. I guess, must have happened here…and here I am now, watching them pass by on either side of me. Damn, what the hell is all this? I wish it would freaking stop!

I look down at the end of the bar where the video poker machine is, and there sits Bob, going through the motions as if he’s playing the damn thing. Dude, I say in my head, You know you can’t play that thing. Bob spins on the stool and points a finger at the jukebox and that old Mamas and Papas song, California Dreamin’ starts to play… "All the leaves are brown… And the sky is grey…" Cool…you did do that, didn’t you? I ask. Bob holds his finger up like a gun then brings it up to his mouth, blows on it then sticks it in a make believe holster on his side. Then says, So, what do you think dude? I’ve been practicing since you’ve been down. He points his finger at the poker machine this time, then puts his make believe gun back in its make believe holster… I look at the screen and a straight flush suddenly appears. Shaking my head at my pal, we both smile and laugh a little laugh at his ‘new found’ talents.

You’re going to be shit outta luck if Lenny ever pulls that jukebox out of here, won’t you? Hmm, I’ll deal with that, if, and when it ever happens, but just to be on the safe side, tell Lenny how much you really like that song and how you hope he never removes it…will you do that for me? request Bob.

Damn, I think to myself, I am really glad he found another song he likes, I never did like that Steely Dan song all that much and I am glad he finally laid it to rest for a while. I heard that, quips Bob.

Hey Bob, let’s go out back to the deck, I haven’t had a cigar in weeks and I’m chomping at the bit to light this one in my pocket. I tell Lenny, I’ll be out back if he needs me. By the time, I go through the door Bobby’s already there sitting up on the railing, boy I think to myself, if he were alive, he would have needed a ladder to get up there. Again, he says, Hey, I heard that too, is that a fat joke Rick? Well then, if you heard that then you’ll hear this buddy, I reply Hey, you, get off of my cloud … Just sayin, it worked for Mick and the boys so why not me.

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So Rick, tell me about these visions you’re experiencing? asked Bob. Well, Bob, I reply, As I was telling you on the drive down here, its like I’m seeing past events all around me and it’s kind of freaking me out man. Rick, don’t freak out dude, it sounds like what I’ve been experiencing as well, only more so, and you say this just started, huh? Yeah man, and I’m not digging it at all either, how do I stop it? I asked. Do you remember when I told you about the vibes I got on the spot where those possessed ‘orange man’ assholes hung out behind that ball field back in Baltimore? says my pal, and then adds. Well, since then it’s been real crazy for me too. How I’ve been able to do to control it…is just…close my eyes and concentrate on some happy moment in my past. You know, try to think of a happy memory. I found that whenever I would let my mind go blank, I was bombarded with visions of events that happened years ago all around me. Things that I knew nothing about…some historic crap, but mostly just mundane everyday shit that happened on the very spot I might be lingering at.

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So what are you saying buddy, that I can close my eyes and try to block it all out? I ask. Sounds easier said than done. What have you got to lose Rick. Just try it, close your eyes and think of something that makes you happy. (Okay, I think to myself, I will, I’ll try anything at this point. As it is, I still can’t believe my best buddy who died, is my best buddy yet again… I mean ever since Bob appeared to me last year, we’ve had one adventure after another and have gotten to know each other better than when he was a living, breathing friend.) All right, let’s try this thing, I sure hope it works…it’s hard enough concentrating on living each day as it is, and now…having to deal with this too.

I close my eyes for I guess a couple of minutes and try to meditate on happy times in my past, then Bob says, Don’t fall asleep on me now buddy, come on back. I open my eyes with a smile, and it seems to be clear all around me… Hmm, you may have the answer there pal, serious meditation I’ll have to remember that. Yeah, I think you can control it, it’s just going to take a little practice, I also think that maybe we can help a few folks with this gift too, replies Bob. Gift huh, is that what it is…hmm, we’ll see about that? I express (as I hold my hand to my chin, smile and wonder).

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Hey Bob, so what did you have to tell me? I asked. Well, Rick, while you were recuperating from your surgery I had a boatload of visitors from the spirit world…all of them looking for an answer to some unanswered question. Questions that have followed them, even after their death and are still baffling them in the afterlife. Oh, such as what? I asked. Man, where do I begin… Bob exclaims. Basically, Rick, they’ve heard about us and what we’ve done to help right a few wrongs with other spirits, and they’re asking for our help to set things straight in their world. It’s kinda like we’re the new Starbucks, or Bar in town and everybody’s gotta check us out.

Really, sounds intriguing for sure, let me think about it. I was thinking about lightening my workload with the jobs that come in from the State or maybe retiring all together. Anyway, where will we find the time to help all those poor souls buddy? I ask. Don’t know dude, but I do know we have to try to help as many as we can, Bob says to me as he grabs my arm. WHOA…I can feel your hand on my arm Bob! Now that’s a trip. I say, with (I’m sure) a shocked look on my face. It sure is, isn’t it? I wonder what other gifts you’ve acquired since your visit to the other side Rick? Don’t you wonder what your mom knew before sending you back? I mean shit man, she’s not just a spirit like me, she’s something much more, replies Bob. I smile at Bob and can only tilt my head, and wonder myself… Well, she sure was something special to me brother, but in the realm of those that have passed on from this life, I can only guess…only time will tell buddy, only time will tell.

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You know Bob, On the drive down here, there was something that I think I saw, out about halfway down Highway 193 right before Penobscot Rd., and I’m feeling compelled to go back there and check into that vision. Oh yeah, what was that? asked Bob.

Well…there was a stagecoach with a team of horses on the side of the road with the words ‘Wells Fargo Stage Lines’ written in gold leaf on the side. Not only that…I saw five passengers plus the driver, who was standing over the body of what, I suppose was his companion, or maybe even the guard…lying face down on the road. Wow, you sure as hell got a lot of details while driving by at what, 60 miles per hour? Bob expresses. "I know man, but like I said, it was like an old drive-in theater screen on either side. For the most part the visions that go by are just your everyday ordinary crap like people walking or changing a tire or something.

When I saw that vision, all my focus went to what was going on right then and there… I was trying to stay between the fucking lines…and when it first caught my eye, the vision was maybe just a few inches high. Say what? asked Bob. I’m sorry let me explain, I reply. I first noticed the image as soon as we got over the hill passed the lumber yard, and it was still maybe a mile away…the closer we got the more details I was able to see. It was kind of like that when I saw the ‘Beatles’ back in 1964. We were so far up in the nosebleed seats; they looked like little dolls on stage. Hey, I’m going in the bar to say goodbye to Lenny and head back there, I gotta figure this shit out. I’m right there with ya, man, replies Bob. You’ve sparked my interest too, and I have to see this for myself; Truth is I don’t think we have much of a choice, we have to go back there."

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Halfway down the road to that spot, Bob asked me if I was able to get this new ‘gift’ as he called it, under control. I tell him straight away, Don’t think of it as a gift yet, let’s wait till I’ve had time to get a handle on it. I mean shit man, as far as I am concerned, it’s more of a curse right now. I’m not much for surprises anymore and the way this thing was just laid in my lap all of a sudden (as I’m traveling down the highway at 60 mph), was not cool… But to answer your question, yes, I’ve got my happy thought ‘Hat’ on. Now if only Tinker Belle would come along and sprinkle some ‘Magic Dust’ on my head we could take a trip to ‘Never Land,’ huh…? Just drive the car smart ass, Bob quips, with a smile.

When we get to the spot where I saw the stagecoach, I pull over into the wide-open area, where the school bus picks up children and parks. We get out and start to walk over to the spot across the road where the vision took place, and just as soon as we get to the roads edge, the story starts to unfold. Right away, it starts…as soon as I got out of the car, just as if someone hit the ‘play’ button (the movie starts in front of us on this very spot). As we start to walk towards it I notice, there’s no sound, and the scenery is void of all color. Then, I look up the hill and see a man (dressed in a long linen trench coat and a nineteenth century type bowler hat), coming down the hill towards the highway, which is now just a narrow dirt road that cuts thru the countryside.

I turn to Bob and point out the man on the hill making his way down the easy grade. Bob shakes his head to acknowledge he sees him too. He seems to be an average size fellow dressed in all dark clothes, I assume black with a large mustache. He’s holding a shotgun in one hand and a dirty white sack in the other, maybe a pillowcase or flour sack. We watched him as he stopped at a large boulder, just thirty feet or so off the road and up the rise of that hill… he leans the shotgun against the large rock… Then takes off his hat and places the sack over his head (resting his hat beside the rock). Sack in place, he put his hat back on, then crouched down behind that big rock to wait. There were crudely cut eyeholes in the sack, and I knew straight away, what this must be… It’s a hold up!

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This man was a robber or ‘Highwayman’ and if I am not mistaken this person must be Black Bart. I thought this because I knew some of the local history, and it was well known that he held up a few stagecoaches in the foothills back in the late 1800’s. This was cool…so I stopped walking and took a few steps back to lean on my car so I could watch it play out… Bob are you seeing all of this? Yeah, I’m watching it same as you buddy, he replies, I think I’m seeing what you’re seeing… Black Bart, behind the rock with a flour sack over his head? Yeah, man that’s it, this is …cool huh? I only wish I had a lawn-chair, a cold beer and some popcorn now, I reply.

It was not long until a stagecoach started to come into view from over the hill…and at a pretty good clip too, leaving a long cloud of dust behind as it got closer with every second. When it got within maybe a hundred yards of our hidden bandit, he burst out from behind that boulder and made his way down to the road. Up went that double barrel shotgun as he stood directly in the path of that stagecoach, pointing it right at the driver and his companion.

The man in the mask yells out, Hold up there! The driver sees that big double barrel pointed straight at him, and screams out… Whoa, whoa now boys, as the stage comes to a halt. With the bandits’ shotgun pointed directly at the driver of the stage you could hear that highwayman very politely greet the driver and his scattergun-toting companion. Good morning my dear fellows, he says, in a very British accent. Dude, says Bob. That’s right, the history books did say he might have been an Englishman didn’t they? I just looked over at Bob, grinned, raised my eyebrows then turned back to watch the show, I didn’t want to miss anything. If you would be so kind as to throw down the strongbox my good man, I’ll be on my way, Bart requests.

The driver and his companion appear to be two seasoned old boys’ that don’t really want to tangle with this bushwhacker, so they both climb down, bringing the strongbox along with them. The driver drops the box to the ground maybe two feet in front of Bart and grumbles, Here ya go mister, now do us all a favor and keep that pepper gun still, there ain’t nobody here wants any trouble today. Black Bart tells them to unload their weapons and toss them aside…which they do. He then directs them to get the passengers out of the coach and have them line up alongside of the road. Once again, the driver who has been chewing on the remnants of an old Mexican cigar leans into our highwayman and asks, You got a light Bart? That is, you under that there flour sack ain’t it? Bart reaches in his duster, pulls out a box of matches and hands them to the driver, Help yourself my good man, is his only reply.

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Bob and I are on pins and needles like two little kids going through the gates of Disneyland for the first time. Wow, says Bob, This is better than any old western I remember, although it would really be cool if Marshall Dillon all of a sudden rode up, huh? I smiled and shook my head in agreement, then turned back to watch what would happen next.

As the passengers climb out one by one, I watched Bart look over each one and greet them politely, Good day to you, kindly stand over to the side, he says, to each one as they exit the coach. There were five passengers in all, three men and two women. The first, of the passengers to climb down out of the old coach…was an older man and what might have been his son or grandson who was maybe in his early teens. The young teenager and his grandpa then helped the two women step down to the road. First, a finely dressed middle-aged woman with what was (maybe) her daughter, also in her teens. Then the last passenger, was a young man in his early twenties who seemed very nervous, more so than the rest. The two-seasoned Teamster’s also took note of the young man’s manner as the driver nudged his companion and made the, ‘look at him’ gesture with his eyes. Bart as well immediately noticed this, and without taking his eyes off him said to the young man, So, how are you today lad? Bob and I looked at each other both with raised eyebrows and wondered what this meant? Bart was no fool; he was most attentive to this young man’s demeanor to say the least.

We looked at the kid then back at each other and grinned, knowing something was about to happen, but what? … Oh man, this is to cool for words, I think to myself… Bob looks over to me and says, Yeah it is. The young man was not only nervous but there was something else about him… Maybe it was that cocky swagger or that anxious gleam in his eyes that caught Bart’s attention. Hell…I saw it too. You can tell he was probably just a farm boy. Like so many farm boys who have dreamt of being a cowboy or gunfighter, I don’t think this is going to end well for him. Bart has seen this type of cowboy before and knows they can be the worst kind of trouble. In those days, Gun slingers and cowboys were like the Rock stars of today because there wasn’t much else to aspire to… Except of course farming, and hell, that was probably what this young man was running from.

The boys about five and a half feet tall with oily-brown unkempt hair sticking out of a dirty felt ranch hat. He has a scruffy half grown fuzzy beard that only a young man would sport. There must have been a bit of a chill in the morning air that day (I suppose), due to the way they were all dressed. This young cowboy had on a thick plaid waistcoat that looked like maybe his maw had made it from an old horse blanket. With his hands still in his pockets, Bart senses something’s wrong and asks the young man to; Please take your hands out of your pockets. Bart then asked him to; Remove that finely tailored waistcoat as well. I can only guess that the comment about his coat rubbed him the wrong way, because this young man did the most foolish thing. Bob and I looked at each other both knowing what was about to happen next, just as Bart and those two old crusty teamsters knew.

As the young man removed his hands from his pockets, he pulled out a shiny new colt revolver…out of the right side and lifted it up to point at the highwayman. Just then…the woman with the daughter, sees this and screams (while pulling her daughter in close out of harm’s way) … The driver, immediately raises his arms up and yells… NO, don’t do it boy! The next thing to happen (I think), caught everyone by surprise… Bob and I included.

That young green cowboy wantabee was so nervous, he fumbled his shiny new gun while trying to get both hands on it to aim, and before he could gain control, that six shooter went off… Everybody looked to see where the bullet went, and just that quick we all saw the drivers companion fall to the dirt. Although that shot was unintentional, it hit that fellow right between the eyes…killing him instantly. Bart quickly stepped forward and lunged towards the boy (while he was still in shock over what he had done), and yells out, BLOODY HELL and lands such a clout to the boy’s jaw with the stock of his shotgun…it sent the boy to the ground unconscious, and no doubt with a broken jaw to boot.

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Stupid fucking kid, huh Bob. Bob just shakes his head as we both stared down at the dumb shit lying there on the side of the road. He was still breathing because you could clearly see his breath in the chilled air and his chest heave up and down. You knew this boy was in for a long nap. Bart, now clearly pissed spoke up as he threw his saddlebags to the driver and said in an annoyed, somewhat angry tone. If you’ll be so kind as to fill these bags Sir, I’ll be on me way. I could not help but to think that this was clearly not Black Bart’s fault, but I doubt if the law will see it that way. As soon as the saddlebags were full of cash from the strong-box the driver passed the bags back to Bart. Bart placed the bags back over his shoulder, tipped his hat and apologized for the incident, then said, I’m deeply sorry for your companion sir, had that young fool not pulled that peacemaker out of his waist coat and attempted to be a hero, your companion would be here still… Please, be sure the truth is told. After having said that, he carefully walked backwards for a bit then scrambled up the hillside to where his horse was tied. We watched him secure his booty to the saddle then mount up and ride away up and over the hill.

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I was beside myself having witnessed an event that happened back in the late 1880’s. I was now a part of that event and was really there… We were there Rick, said Bob. I’m not sure where or when this gift will come in handy buddy, but one thing is for sure, it is a gift alright. I know that now…and dude, this is something the both of us will share, that’s more than I expected. As we both look back at the scene, we could see the stagecoach just drifting out of site, getting smaller by the second as it made its way down the road towards Sacramento… I guess that’s what we were meant to see Rick, ya think? asked Bob. I do buddy, I reply. And hey, that was better than any western I’ve ever seen on TV that’s for sure…and it was the real deal too. Wow!

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I tell you what else I think Bob. Oh, what’s that Rick. When I get home I’m going to do a little research on this incident; and about our highwayman Black Bart. If what I find is not the truth, I think I will have to write a letter to the Sacramento Bee and set them straight. I mean gosh, he could have very easily shot that stupid cowboy, but didn’t…why not? Hmm, I don’t know man, but let me know what you find out will ya, answers Bob. The story I remember hearing back in grade school was…that they did finally catch up with him and he went to prison for a couple of years. The final word on the fella was, after he was released, he just kinda disappeared… Maybe he went back to writing his poetry and got published under a ‘ghost writers’ name, who knows?

Dude, just come over and pull up a chair and look at the computer with me, Chrystal can’t hear us communicate and can’t see you… so why not join me? Hell, I’ll have her set another place at the table for ya. Bob gives me that disgusted, yet happy smile I’ve grown so accustomed to seeing whenever I’m a smart ass and says, Stupid is as stupid does buddy, then just shakes his head and adds, See ya later pal, then vanishes.

As I get back in my Buick Road Master, I could not help but to just sit there, close my eyes for a moment, and reflect on what I just witnessed before I get back to reality. I try not only to stop the visions, but also to calm myself and think about what was about to come. Were there any more surprises waiting for Bob and me? If so what would they be, and when will they show themselves, then it comes to me. It’ll all happens in God’s time when I least expect it, and that’s alright with me. I know I am a lucky-man, just one look at my family will tell you that (after dying on the operating table and being allowed to come back), I am blessed in many ways…this I know. I only hope and pray that I am worthy of any gift that may come my way.

Alright then, the suns still shining and I’m feeling pretty good now that my heads clear, I think I’ll run the Buick down the road for a while before dinner and I have to put her away… Did he say he wrote poetry?

CHAPTER 2

Chloe

I n the morning, we decide to run down the hill and go to the Costco store in Roseville. I guess we’re running low on toilet paper, and Chrystal loves a good deal. Hell, truth be known, I like to go down there just for a slice of their pizza. It’s about an hour’s drive from our little foothill home, with about half of that highway driving. I’ll damn sure never take the 57’ Buick down to crazy-town unless there’s a car show or some other good reason… Can’t imagine what. No, we’ll take the truck, we can stack more stuff in the bed anyway. Hell, like most guys, I love my truck, and unlike most people today, especially city people, I use my truck as a truck. I got my first truck when I was seventeen years old, and a young carpenter’s apprentice. Now here it is almost forty-five years later, and I’ve had well over a dozen trucks and I still own one…probably always will.

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On the way through town, I thought I would stop in to see my mechanic friend Scott and make an appointment to get the oil changed in my Chevy. Scott is a good honest mechanic, and has done a fantastic job with that shop since Bob left this earth and he took it over. Truth be known, when Scotty became Bob’s apprentice right out of high school, he gradually wound up turning the wrenches on most jobs that came into the shop. That of course freed up a lot of time for Bob and I to play golf, and hang out over at the Moonglow Saloon. It was also common to see a few of us hanging out at Bob’s shop on any afternoon, chewing the fat and drinking a few beers too.

Doctor Forester’s Dentist office was the next building over and he would often walk down to talk for a spell, maybe tell a joke or two. He’s always surrounded by five or six women in his office and seemed to enjoy a little ‘Man time’ as he would say. What a great little town, I mean compared to growing up in a big city where you had to watch your back all the time…

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As I pull up to Scott’s shop, Chrystal gets out and walks over to Doc Forester’s to make an appointment for a teeth cleaning. While standing out front talking to Scott (digging his 46’ Dodge coupe with the hood up), Chrystal steps out of Dr. Forester’s office and waves at me to come down there. I walk down and step inside, only to find that Doc’s longtime assistant Luann wanting to talk to me. She tells the Doc she is going on her break and we step back outside into sunshine. While outside, we chat a bit, then she asked me if I was still a Private Investigator and if I am feeling well enough to take on a job. I asked her what the job was, and who it was for.

She said it would be for her, and asked me if I remembered her sister Carol who passed away from cancer a few years back, I told her I did. Chrystal said she knew her from the Market where she had worked, and said she would sometimes stop in and chat with her. She then told Luann again, how sorry we were for her loss. She went on to say that, she needed my help to locate her niece Chloe. Having said that, we asked her to come over to the house later that night where we would be able to discuss the problem in privacy and the comfort of our home. I asked her if her husband Larry would be joining her, and she replied probably not.

I was glad of that because I didn’t really know the guy and from what I’d heard about him, he was considered to be; a real jerk by most people in town…and I never intentionally put myself into an awkward situation if I can help it. Now Luann, she’s a different story; always happy with a big smile every time I’ve ever seen her, either at the Doctor’s office or about town. Although, I don’t think, I’ve ever seen her without that Nurses smock on. She’s a cute bubbly little gal, maybe in her mid-forties, about five-foot-two. She’s a brunette with a few grey streaks in her hair and a face full of freckles.

Upon leaving, Doc Forester steps outside his office, to ask me how I am doing. I tell him I’m doing great and give him a big smile. He then replies, Good to hear Rick, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got a good looking smile. We both laugh, and I reply, I hope it looks good, it cost me enough. Doc smiles, then gives me another wave and goes back inside. I can see why Bobby loved this town so much. I do too.

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It was about seven o’clock when Luann pulled in the driveway, Chrystal went outside to greet her while I grabbed myself one of my newly replenished Costco Heineken’s from the fridge. I telepathically asked Bob, to join in on the meeting with Luann, as he knew her and her sister very well. He stood in the corner across from me… I think so we could look at each other and confer during the meeting, even though it was telepathically (it still seemed odd to talk to Bob without looking at him).

Bob mentioned how it was somewhat odd that Larry did not come along, but then tells me, I never really liked him much, did you Rick? Don’t really know the guy, I answer. Well, you’re not missing anything pal, he’s a bit of a dick if you ask me, and I always wondered how in the hell he wound up with such a wonderful gal. I just tilt my head to the side and reply, Well that’s kinda what I hear too…okay then, I’ll remember that.

Luann had come prepared with a family photo album of her sister and her sister’s family. Her sister and her looked to be twins although she was two years older than Carol… And Chloe, she looked like them both. After several minutes of ohhs and ahhs, looking at pictures of little Chloe as a baby on up through the teen years, Luann went on to explain. It’s been two years now and the family has exhausted all their available funds trying to find her, with no luck. The Sheriff’s department pretty much gave up after the first few months and told us that she probably just ran way, Luann explained, with tears in her eyes. As Luann was scooping up the photos to put them back in her purse, one picture caught my eye. It was a picture of Chloe standing between Luann and Larry on the beach next to their boat. Bob is now standing behind me looking over my shoulder and says, Yeah, that’s Luann’s boat, I recognize it because I worked on the motor several times and if I am not mistaken, they’re at Folsom Lake right down the road. Dude, I wonder if Luann has ever noticed what Larry’s eyes are staring at. We both look at the attractive young girl in the bikini standing next to him and it’s not hard to figure out. But damn man, first of all, she’s only what fifteen years old in the picture…and secondly, that’s his fucking niece, I reply. Yeah, what a fucking pervert he is on top of being a dick," adds Bob.

Luann continues to explain, Chloe was fifteen years old when her mother died, and she just turned seventeen last week. Rick, can you please help us find her? I could see Bob tilt his head to the side, raise his eyebrows and shrug his shoulders as if to say…maybe. I don’t know if I can find her or not Luann, I reply. But I’ll be happy to look into it, and we’ll see how far it goes. I’ve got my new car in the paper for sale, Rick, so there shouldn’t be any problem paying your bill, she explains.

Chrystal turns to me and says, "Oh, honey,