I was beat. The drive from Denver to Arizona had already taken 9 hours, and I had to admit I wasn't as young as I used to be. I couldn't sleep in that hotel. It was noisy and disgusting. I lit out at 3 AM and was getting close to Winslow, but I was fading fast. I needed to eat and get some rest. This was my life now, occasional long trips to sign pictures for fans, followed by a lot of empty time. Still, it was nice to meet people who enjoyed my work, even if it reminded me of all I'd lost along the way.

In the distance, I saw one of those old Route 66 towns. It had once thrived on tourists, sucking up their dollars like the local plants sucked up water. It looked like it had a little life left, so I decided to find some food. The town was only three blocks long. There was a seedy-looking place called "Johnny's BurgerRama." It promised the world's best coffee. Of course it did.

I parked my trusty old Mercedes and went in. Friends made fun of me for driving that old beast, but it was comfortable, solid, and had never let me down.  It was 2 PM, and the lunch rush was obviously long past - maybe by 30 years or so. The girl behind the counter smiled at me, made a sweeping gesture with her arm, and said, "Any place you like, sweetie!"

I smiled at her, tipped my baseball cap, and said thanks. I wandered over to a booth in the back and plopped down. The padding under the hideous vinyl upholstery was old and tired, but at least it wasn't moving.

The waitress came by with the world's best coffee and a menu. "You look tired, honey. Just relax, and let Sammy take care of you."

She was so young, but I could see the desert was already working its way in, trying to suck the life out of her.

Most city people don't understand the desert and what it can do. They may watch a documentary and think they understand, but you can't, unless you've been there. On TV, it looks quiet and peaceful. In reality, the desert is nothing like that. It's not peaceful – it makes every effort to kill you, every moment you're there. The heat is a living thing, pounding you into submission. The lack of water, food, and medicine takes a constant toll. You have to be on alert for snakes, scorpions, and spiders. Even the cacti can cause serious injury. Floods can happen in an instant and sweep your entire world away. Worst of all, the lack of social connection and the unrelenting heat can drive you absolutely mad if you let them. The desert isn't for the weak or the careless.

I thought about that as I looked at her. Something about her face made it hard to look away. Her smile was so sunny, but her eyes had a depth to them that seemed to belong to a much older woman. There was comfort and warmth there. Much earlier in my life, I would have pulled out all the stops and made a play for her. Not anymore, though - those days were long gone. Every cowboy needs to know when to hang up his guns.

After a moment, I forced myself to look at the menu. "Can I get a cheeseburger with fries?"

"Sure! I'll get that going for you right away." She walked off to place the order. Even though she was wearing the worst uniform I've ever seen, I loved watching her walk away. The garish orange-and-blue polyester atrocity she wore couldn't hide her figure or the lovely blonde ponytail that bounced back and forth. Watching her, I thought about a movie I'd been in. I'd played a cowboy who goes into the hills, looking for strays. As he rides along, he looks down into a little stream and sees a glimmer in the water. He dismounts, digs around for a while, and unearths the biggest gold nugget you've ever seen. That was Sammy. She didn't deserve to be hidden away in this sad little place. She deserved to shine.

While she was gone, I took off my hat and sunglasses and went to the restroom. I looked like hell. I washed the grime off my face and combed my hair. At least I still had my own hair. The years hadn't taken that from me.

I sat back down, and she brought my food pretty quickly. She set the plate down, and I looked up and thanked her. She looked at me and cocked her head. I could see the gears turning. I'd seen that look many times. "Oh my gosh! Are you Dalton Kane?"

I flashed my million-dollar smile. "Guilty as charged, ma'am"

"Oh! I can't believe it! I just watched Red Sun Rising last night. It was amazing. That scene where you killed old man Jackson was incredible!"

"Thanks, Sammy. I'm glad you enjoyed it. That was a tough film to make. The director was a bad-tempered drunk. We had to bail him out of jail twice. It took forever to get done. Still, I was happy with the way it came out."

And with that, we started a conversation that lasted two hours. No other customers were around, so I invited her to sit with me. She grabbed some coffee, and we had a great time. She seemed to know every film I'd ever been in. In fact, she knew things about my films I didn't.

It turned out her father, Pete Baldwin, had worked as a character actor back in the day. She told me his name, and I smiled. I remembered Pete very well. We'd done a few scenes together. He was terrific at playing minor villains. He knew how to project menace with his steely eyes. He also had a wonderful way of delivering lines so that you always felt there was a nice guy underneath, trying to break free. I told Sammy how much I'd admired his skills. He was a nice guy and a good actor, but like so many others, he didn't make it. Luck was so important in Hollywood, and he didn't have it. He'd given up and come out this way to work on a friend’s ranch. His wife couldn't stand the place and went back to LA, leaving him to raise Sammy. He'd passed away a few years ago, and Sammy stayed on. She didn't really know what else to do.

She grabbed a free piece of pie for me, and I sat with her and talked a little longer. It was damned good pie.

Suddenly her smile faded. She became serious and determined. "I'm going to ask you something, Dalton, and I know it's putting you on the spot. I'm sorry, but I just have to take this chance. I need to get the hell out of here. This town is killing me, one miserable day at a time. I've got some money saved up, and I want to know if I can ride to LA with you. Even if I end up working in another restaurant, it would be better than this. I know I have no right to ask this, but can you please get me out of here?"

I thought about it for a moment. She seemed harmless enough, and she was Pete's kid. "Do you have a driver's license?"

"Sure!" She went over and fished it out of her purse. That helped me in two ways: first, it meant she could drive partway so that I could rest, and second, she was of legal age so that I wouldn't end up in the pokey. She was actually 25, a little older than I thought.

"Well, I've got room for you, but you'll have to help with the driving. I'm beat. When can you leave?"

"Right now!" She disappeared into a back room. She came out wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her figure was even better than I thought. She walked over and yelled through the pass-through window behind the counter. "Hey, George. I quit! See you sometime!"

I heard a muted answer: "Okay. Have fun." I don't think George was taking her seriously.

And with that, our journey began. We stopped by a trailer park, and she went into her single-wide for a few minutes. She came back out with a small suitcase. She ran to the trailer next door and spoke to the woman there for a little while. They hugged, cried a little, and then she came back to the car. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

And we did. The trip to LA was pleasant and uneventful. We talked about all sorts of things on the way. She had been saving for her escape for three years. She had enough money for a motel and planned to find a job as soon as she got there. I admired her ambition. She wanted to be an actress, but if that didn't work out, she had other jobs in mind. In reality, she just wanted to get away from that dusty, dying place she'd called home all her life. I couldn't blame her.

She insisted on driving most of the way. She said I looked tired, and she was excited to get as far from that town as possible. So I dozed a little, and let her have her way. To be honest, she didn't have to argue with me very much about it.

As we were passing Barstow, I looked over at her. "You know, Sammy, I've been thinking a little. There's absolutely no reason for you to stay in some sleazy motel. I've got a four-bedroom house, and I'm the only one there. I want you to pick a room, and stay as long as you need to. I've even got a little red convertible you could use. Lord knows I don't use it - I'm too tall. I have a hard time fitting in it."

"I couldn't do that, Dalton. That's too much of an imposition. I'll be okay in a hotel"

"Look, Sammy, I insist. You have no idea how expensive LA is, and it's absolutely loaded with slimy creeps who would love to get their hands on you. I didn't help your Dad as much as I should have, and I'm damned sure not going to stand by and watch his daughter get into trouble. Not on my watch, kid. You'll stay with me until you find a job and a safe place to live. That's final."

She reached over and squeezed my hand. Her voice was a little shaky. "Okay. Thanks, Dalton."

I took over as we got into town. It was just after 1 AM. My place was up in the hills, and it was fun watching her face as we wound our way along, with the city lights stretching out before us.

Eventually we arrived at my place. It was a mid-century modern house, built in 1964 by some famous architect. I'd never heard of him, but I'd loved it as soon as I saw it. The second story jutted out, cantilevered over the canyon. It was a bold, daring design, and I knew I had to have it.

It needed repair and restoration, but I'd contacted the school of architecture at USC, and they'd been invaluable. Students swarmed over the place for months, bringing notes and blueprints and helping me bring the old place back to life. I'd agreed to let them bring new students by once a semester for a tour. It was the least I could do.

Fortunately, the architect's widow had left it in its original state after he passed, so it still had its crazy futuristic furniture. I was told some of those pieces were worth a fortune. I wouldn't sell them, though. They belonged there, and so did I. The shag carpet was hopeless, of course, but I managed to match what was there. A lot of it was pretty hideous, but I couldn't bring myself to change the original vision.

The only thing I'd really changed was the kitchen. Finding avocado appliances was impossible, so I went all in on modernizing it. Otherwise, the place was a time capsule. My favorite feature of the house was the living room conversation pit. Those things were death traps, especially for people who drank a lot, but I absolutely loved it. It had built-in seating, and shelves here and there. Those shelves had become the home for my collection of Zane Grey first editions.

We pulled into the garage, and I grabbed our bags and escorted her inside. She had a blast roaming around, exploring the place. She was especially excited about the pool that was waiting in the back. I was exhausted, but I had to admit it looked pretty good to me, too.

The day was catching up with me fast. I grabbed our bags and hauled them upstairs. "C'mon Sammy – come pick out your room"

She went with me and looked at the three guest rooms. Each room had a base color: blue, green, or gold. The gold room had its own bath, while the blue and green rooms shared one. After a moment, she said the gold room was her favorite, so I set her suitcase on the bed.

"My room is down on the end of the hall. If you need anything, just holler"

"Okay, Dalton. Thanks so much for this. I still can't believe it!"

I let loose a big yawn. I was completely spent. "No worries, kid. Get some sleep. I'll take you on a tour tomorrow. We'll have some fun."

With that, I turned and went to my room. I got ready and climbed into bed. It felt so good. I was tired right down to my bones. Just as I was drifting off, I heard a tentative knock on my door. "Dalton, are you awake?"

I suppressed the string of foul language that came to mind.

"Sure. What's up?"

She opened the door. I saw her silhouetted against the hallway nightlight. "Dalton, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm scared. It just hit me. This is the first time I've been away from home. You're the only person I know in this whole town, and I'm scared to death." I could hear her voice trembling as she spoke.

I was so tired, but I couldn't turn her away. I smiled and sat up. "Well, come on in, kid. Let's talk about it."

She ran to my bed and climbed in. She wore an Arizona Cardinals jersey, and I wore nothing but my boxers and a T-shirt.

She didn't talk. She put her arms around me, buried her face in my shoulder, and clung to me. I couldn't do much but hold her tight and stroke that lovely blonde hair. After a while, she calmed down. I told her about my own journey here when I was 17. I remembered how scared I'd been. I'd grown up in a small town in West Texas, and even back then, LA was huge. My brain couldn't grasp it.

We finally lay down together, and she eventually fell asleep on my shoulder. It was nice having her there, but I had to admit my feelings were less than pure. Still, she was just a vulnerable kid. I knew I'd have to look at myself in the mirror the next day, so I just held on and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning and couldn't find her. I roamed around the house in my robe, but she was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I looked out the kitchen window and saw her, floating on her back in the pool. She hadn't packed a swimsuit.

I couldn’t help myself. I stood there for a while, admiring her. The way the sun glistened off her tanned, wet skin was so enticing. Before I knew it, my hand slipped inside my robe. She was just too appealing. I stopped myself before I went too far, shook my head, and tried to get myself together. This wasn't a road I wanted to go down. In my mind, there was nothing more pathetic than an aging, washed-up movie star with a young girl on his arm. She was trouble, and I'd have to get her out of here as soon as possible.

I went up and put on some clothes. I grabbed some towels, went downstairs, and out through the back door. "So, I see you found your way to the pool!"

She just laughed and said, "I hope you don't mind. This is amazing!" She didn't seem embarrassed that I was standing there, looking at her. At least I lived at the top of the hill, so no one else could see her.

"Why don't you join me? The water is great!"

Despite my earlier resolution, I couldn't think of a reason not to. I had nowhere else to go, and that water looked really nice. And so did she, of course. I took off my clothes and jumped into the deep end. That would soon turn out to be an apt metaphor. She was right – the water was perfect.

She immediately came over to me. "Dalton, honey, I want to thank you for last night. You were so sweet to me." I started to say something like, 'Aw shucks, ma'am, it weren't nuthin', but I didn't get a chance. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me, and not in a sisterly way. Before I knew it, her tongue was deep in my mouth, and I felt her hand on me, exploring, stroking, grabbing. It was incredibly intense.

She backed me up to the edge of the pool and guided me into her. I found the ladder back behind me and grabbed it for support. I couldn't believe she was doing this. I had always been the aggressor when it came to sex, but this lovely young woman knew exactly what she wanted. I never stood a chance. The desert is harsh, and there's never enough of anything. People who grow up there tend to be decisive and opportunistic; they take what they want when they can, knowing it may be gone tomorrow. Sammy was definitely a product of the desert, and my cock was a resource she was claiming.

Sammy worked on me in the pool for a long while. She moved slowly and gently, making each stroke deliberate and sensual. The noises she made were incredible. I wanted to touch her lovely breasts so badly, but someone had to keep us stable and supported in the water. I was elected for that role, so I just endured her attentions. She was confident and uninhibited while she used me - treating me less like a lover and more like a sex toy, taking whatever she wanted from me.

I had had young starlets fuck me, believing they could get me to find them a part in a movie. I was always up front with them about it. I didn’t have the power to choose who got roles, and who didn’t. They never listened, though. People hear what they want to hear. They had always moved quickly, doing whatever they could to make me cum. Sammy wasn't doing that. This was for her. I was just along for the ride. I was having a lot of trouble holding back – she was magnificent, but I really wanted this to last. I found myself wanting to please her.

She finally had a very strong climax. Her back arched, and I could feel her muscles squeezing my cock. When she was going over the edge, she threw her head back, moaned, and said: "Feed my pussy, cowboy!" That was it for me. Any hope of control disappeared immediately. I'd been supporting both of us, but I lost my focus. We both found ourselves underwater and soon sputtered and coughed our way back to the surface. I nearly drowned, but it may have been the best sex I'd ever had.

We finally made it out of the pool, laughing and coughing. I found the cement had taken a good bit of skin off me here and there. I hadn't even noticed it. I guess I’d been a little distracted. I held her and kissed her. I was finally able to caress those sweet breasts and explore her whole body. I wasn't trying to start anything; I just needed to let her know how much I'd appreciated what she'd done. We eventually went inside, and she got bandages from the cupboard and patched me up. She gave me a bashful smile. "Sorry about that, sweetie – I got carried away"

I told her it was fine. I'd be happy to swim with her any time.

We took a nice warm shower together, got dressed, and went into town for brunch. We sat outdoors, enjoying the perfect weather. Meanwhile, I was trying to understand what had happened. Was it just a one-time thing, or was something else going on? I'd been married and divorced twice. I understood horses, but women were a complete mystery to me.

As we finished brunch, I looked across the table at her beautiful, smiling face. "So, I'm guessing you don't have too much in the way of clothes in that little suitcase you brought. It would probably make sense to get you a few things, especially if you want to go job hunting."

"Well, I don't have much money. How much do you think it would cost?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll loan you the money, and you can pay me back once you're working. You also mentioned last night that I was the only person you knew in town. Everybody needs friends, and I think we can fix both problems at the same time. Hang on a second…"

I fished out my phone and called my friend Melody. She lived fairly close to my house. Mel was a little younger than me. She had married poorly, but divorced very well. Her ex was one of those slimy money guys that slither around the movie business, ruining people’s lives. Mel’s father was a divorce lawyer, and she told me he'd gotten her everything but the guy’s last pair of socks.

Mel always seemed to be looking for something. She dabbled in screenwriting, but I don't think she ever sold anything. The same went for her abstract paintings and her poetry.  We had dated for a while several years ago. After a few nice sexual encounters, we both realized there wasn't any real passion there. We were better off being friends. She even took the trouble to set me up with girls from time to time. She said she didn't like seeing me alone.

After a little chit-chat, I told her about Sammy and her need for a wardrobe. Mel was a terrific woman, and a real fashion junkie. She quickly agreed to meet us for lunch.

While we waited, I drove Sammy around for a while and took in a few sights. Then we went off to meet Mel. We had a nice lunch together, and Mel made her plans. She and Sammy got along famously. When the meal was finished, they got up, and I started to accompany them. Mel gave me the evil eye. "Where do you think you're going, pardner?"

"Well, I thought I'd tag along and…"

"Go home, Dalt. This is women's work." They walked off, arm in arm - with my credit card. So I shrugged and went home.

They finally made it back to my place around dinnertime. They had bag after bag of clothing and shoes, and none of it came from Walmart. It looked like Mel had gone absolutely insane. She started laughing when she saw my face. "Don't worry, Dalt! You can afford it, honey. Anyway, we found some terrific bargains. It was unbelievable!"

She was right. I didn't believe any of this was a bargain.

She handed my credit card back. I thought I could see a wisp of smoke coming off of it. I asked her if she wanted to stay for dinner. She begged off. She had a hot date lined up. Mel hugged Sammy and me, then left.

I asked Sammy if she wanted Chinese food. She'd never had any, so I ordered delivery from my favorite spot. I got a little of everything. It arrived soon after, and Sammy nearly went nuts. It seemed like hamburgers and fries were exotic cuisine where she came from. Sweet and sour pork was just too much for her. And she was a definite fan of General Tso, whoever he was. I loved it. It was fun to see her enjoy such a simple thing so much.

We eventually stopped eating, and she insisted on cleaning up. She wanted to earn her keep, so I let her. Honestly, I was still a bit worn out from the trip. I took a seat in the conversation pit and waited patiently. Eventually, she bounced in, happy and excited. God, she was cute.

"Well, what would you like to do now, Sammy? You're my guest, so you get to pick"

"Can I show you some of the clothes I bought? Mel and I had so much fun, and I got to try on so many beautiful things. I felt like a princess! Thank you so much for helping me this way. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

I just smiled and nodded. I understood women well enough to know this would make her happy. I sure didn’t have anything else planned. “That’d be great, Sammy. Why don’t you put on a fashion show for me? I’m curious to see what you and Mel came up with.”

She smiled, ran up to her room, and started trying on different outfits. I put on a little music to set the mood.

For each new outfit, she’d appear at the top of the stairs and walk down while I waited below in the conversation pit. I started taking pictures of her as she struck poses like a fashion model. I had to admit I was having fun. I soon began applauding when she appeared in each new ensemble. The girls had done an excellent job. She had clothes for lounging around the house, job interviews, beachwear, nightclubs, and just about everything else a young woman could need. This had clearly cost me a fortune, but I didn't really care. Mel was right - I could afford it, and seeing Sammy so happy was somehow becoming very important to me.

One thing I always loved about the desert was the flowers. You can take the most desolate patch of scrub, add one rainstorm, and blooms appear like magic. That was Sammy tonight. Her new wardrobe, combined with the opportunities she had now, was making her bloom at long last. She was so wild and beautiful. And I realized she was doing the same thing for me. Yesterday, I’d been as tired and dry as any patch of desert. Sammy’s presence in my life was like a healing rain. I felt younger and happier than I had in years.

Finally, she said she had one last outfit to show me. Mel had told her I'd like it. She asked me to sit down and wait - this might take a while. She was gone a little longer this time, then called out, "Are you ready?"

"Sure, Sammy. Bring it on!"

She appeared at the top of the stairs, and my heart just about stopped. She was clad in some of the sexiest lingerie I'd ever seen. It was all black – very dangerous-looking. Her legs were clad in black stockings, with a garter belt. Her beautiful blonde hair was up, with something that looked like black chopsticks sticking out. Long black earrings dangled from her ears. Her makeup was much more pronounced, with lovely red lips and heavier eye makeup. I couldn't believe it was the same girl.

She slinked her way down the stairs. I think she had trouble walking in the stiletto heels she wore, but that didn't stop her. I didn't clap this time. I didn't seem able to move. I sat there like a bird, fascinated by a deadly snake's approach. I couldn't look away.

Eventually, she came to me and sat on my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a gentle, light kiss. I could taste her lipstick, and her perfume was making me dizzy. My heart was hammering in my chest.

"Dalton, honey, Mel said you'd like this outfit. Was she right?"

"Oh yeah. She was right. You look amazing, but I have to say this, and I want you to listen. I'm way too old for you, Sammy. I don't understand why you're doing this. Why would you possibly want a dried-up old fossil like me? You should find someone younger."

She just smiled.

"I'm going to come clean with you, honey. I've had a crush on you for so long. You’re kind, gentle, and generous, and you're the handsomest man I've ever seen.  I really don't care if you're a little older than me."

"My father used to tell me a story about you. He said that he had a scene with you in The Man from Cerro Gordo. The director wanted to cut his lines, but you stood up to him. You told him my father was a good actor and that his lines mattered. He told me most people he'd met in show business had treated him like trash, but you always treated him with respect and friendship. He never forgot your kindness. I thought about that every time I watched your movies, and I think I fell in love with you."

She gave me another gentle kiss. "You know, honey, I used to sit in that goddamned diner and daydream about you riding up on that big appaloosa of yours, and asking me to ride off into the sunset with you. And then yesterday, you actually did it. I mean, it wasn’t a horse, and I had to do the asking, but I think it still counts. Of all the miserable little diners on that road, you came into mine, and we rode away together. I think it's fate. Don't you?"

"Well, when you put it like that, maybe it is."

"I'm glad you agree. Now, I'll give you a choice, honey. Would you like to go up to your bedroom and let me fuck you until the sun comes up, or would you like me just to drain your balls right here?

So, that's how I met my third wife, Samantha Helene Baldwin. She never got a job or paid me back for the clothes, but I don't care. What matters is that she's never given me a single reason to regret asking her to stay. Instead, she's made it her business to make me happy in every possible way.

I've been amazed at how much she contributes to my life. She started the Dalton Kane fan club online and manages my social media. I didn't even know what that was before she got here. As a result, I've started earning much more from fan events. She added a line of 'merch', so fans can buy T-shirts and coffee mugs with my glorious kisser on them. She’s even working with some fellow who wants to ghostwrite my autobiography.

Sammy works tirelessly to promote me, and a few weeks ago it really paid off. I signed a contract with a streaming service to make Sundown at Cerro Gordo. They're paying me enough to make my eyes water. Sammy doesn't know it, but I insisted she get an Executive Producer credit. She'll finally have some money of her own to spend. She also doesn't know that I insisted the film be dedicated to her father. His face will be the last thing people see as the credits roll. It was the least I could do.

Sammy makes sure I eat right and get lots of exercise. And of course, she makes sure I stay nice and warm at night. She and Mel are out in the pool right now, with a couple of girlfriends, and I'm on my way to join them with a fresh pitcher of Margaritas. Life really couldn't be better.

It just goes to show you: Sometimes, if he's very lucky, even an old, broken-down cowboy like me can find some gold in the desert. He just has to keep his eyes open, and be smart enough to put it in his pocket.