Walking through the Johnny Cash Museum with Sin was a lot of fun. Johnny Cash was a pretty interesting guy and a real American icon, but Sin’s reaction to things was what made my day. He was in deep fascination with all of it. I took a lot of pictures of him with a look of serious concentration on his face. He was having such a good time.

Chad was too. He told me he’d been here before but not in many years. Both men wanted to read every note the museum had to offer, so we took our time. That was fine with me. We had time to kill. No pun intended.

We even sat and watched the movie the museum had on repeat. By the end of our visit, we’d been in the place almost three hours and I was ready for some food. Sin and I both bought T-shirts in the gift shop because a Johnny Cash T-shirt was never a bad purchase. I got Birdie a mug, too. Everybody was a Johnny Cash fan, right?

Since we were parked close, Sin took our bag of souvenirs to the car. Then we walked to Broadway, which was right around the corner, and found a place that served food along with all kinds of drinks. They had live music too. Not a hard thing to find on Broadway, but not every place had food.

Chad was familiar with the house band and pronounced them better than average. The Amarillo Armadillos. Didn’t matter to me. I just wanted food.

We got a table near the back of the establishment, which didn’t make much difference in the sound level because there were speakers all over the place. I got a double cheeseburger with french fries, coleslaw, and extra pickles.

Sin ordered the same thing, minus the extra pickles. We both went with ginger ale to drink. I was happy to be off my feet. I wasn’t exactly tired, just glad to be sitting.

Sin sat next to me so we could both see the stage where the band was and the people who were dancing. Very entertaining.

He leaned in. “The band is pretty good.”

I nodded. “Chad says they’re better than average.”

“High praise.”

I smiled. “I can see why these bars are popular. If you like this kind of music.” In front of the stage, people were doing that fancy kind of Texas dancing. Two-step or something. It was fun to watch.

“I bet this place is a madhouse at night.”

“No doubt.” The very idea made me a little queasy. All those sweaty, inebriated people. It made me itchy just thinking about it. Funny, but the older I got, the less interesting being out was. Or maybe that was me turning into a parent? I wasn’t sure. But being home, even if home was the RV, held more appeal these days.

The server returned with our sodas. I was thirsty and happy to have mine. I took a few long sips through the straw.

“It might still be too early after we eat for Glen to be in,” Sin said. “You want to walk around on Broadway or just hang out here?”

“We could walk around. See the street a little. That was part of what we were going to do anyway.”

He nodded. “It was. I was hoping we’d get to do a little more than that, too, but I’m really glad we got to see the Johnny Cash Museum. Thanks for suggesting that.”

“It was fun.” I meant it too. “And we’ll have time to do the farmer’s market and the state museum.”

“That would be nice.” He put his arm around me. I leaned in. I guessed any upset he’d felt about me taking on Chad was gone.

Our food arrived in red baskets lined with red gingham waxed paper. I could not have been more pleased to see the tall mound of fries that accompanied the burger, which was equally impressive. But those fries just felt like everything I needed in the moment.

We ate in silence for a bit, listening to the band and spending a few minutes just stuffing our faces. Sin ate like he’d been hungry too.

We were both about halfway through our meals before we came up for air and conversation.

He nudged me. “Good, huh?”

“Really good.” I had burger juice dripping down one hand. “I wasn’t so sure about this place because of the music and booze, but it’s not bad.”

“There are a lot of choices on Broadway. I guess if you want to make it, you need to be good at everything.”

“Must be.” I ate three fries at once. Somehow, I was hungrier than usual, which was a pretty impressive feat. Then I remembered Chad. It had to be because of him. At least he’d been fairly quiet since we left the museum. Having his voice in my head was a little weird.

Sin finished his burger and pushed his basket away with fries still in it.

I looked at him. “Are you done?”

He nodded. “I’m stuffed.” He smiled and offered the basket to me.

I dumped the rest of his fries in with mine.

He bobbed his head along to the music while I polished off the remainder of the food. I was still a little hungry, but I wasn’t about to order another burger or more fries.

“You want some dessert?”

How much did I love this man? “You say that like you know they have something I might like.”

He shrugged. “I saw a few things on the menu. A Mississippi mud pie. A coconut cake. But the blackberry cobbler caught my eye. It’s served in its own pan and comes with vanilla ice cream and a drizzle of custard sauce.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

He lifted his hand to get the server’s attention.

The cobbler arrived in a small cast-iron skillet with a mound of vanilla ice cream melting into the golden-brown pockets of biscuit topping and mixing with the bubbling purple berries underneath. It smelled like a warm summer day.

The server had brought us two forks and more napkins. We both picked up a fork. I couldn’t wait to try it.

“Careful now,” our server said. “It’s plenty hot. Don’t burn your tongue.”

“Thanks,” Sin said. He took a picture of it, which wasn’t something he usually did, but it did look pretty.

Steam rose when we broke through the crust. I let my bite sit on the fork for about ten seconds to cool off, then I felt I’d waited long enough and ate it.

The blackberries were sweet and tart, as was the juice they were in, the cobbler crumbly and perfect, like a sweet biscuit. The vanilla ice cream and custard sauce married the whole thing in a very delicious way.

I was happy. My mouth was happy. I looked over at Sin. His eyes were closed. I laughed. “This was a very good choice.”

He nodded and opened his eyes. “Very good. Why did I never make a blackberry- and custard-filled doughnut? I could have done a vanilla glaze with it. I might need to send this idea to Archie.”

“If you could make it taste like this, you’d have a winner.”

“Agreed.” He went in for more.

So did I. He quit before I did, so I finished it. I was, at last, satiated. For now. In fact, I was actually a little stuffed. I wondered if my tongue was purple from the blackberries.

He paid the check, and we decided to get back on the street and walk. See what there was to see. We still had about an hour to go before Sin said Glen would be at North Forty. Might as well get a little exercise.

Even in the afternoon, Broadway was busy. Loaded with tourists. Lots of them in cowboy hats and boots that were probably newly purchased. A good number looked like they’d already had a drink or two.

Broadway was an interesting mix of touristy shops, honky-tonks—most of which seemed to be owned by famous country stars—and some less touristy, more serious Western-wear stores. We went into one of those, mostly because they had cool cowboy boots in the window.

Sin found a pair of black cowboy boots with black stitching and silver metal toe tips. They were about as cool as boots could be. He tried them on.

I nodded my approval. “You look great in those. Very man in black.” He looked great in everything.

He grinned. “They do have a certain Johnny Cash quality to them, don’t they?”

“They have a real Sinclair Crowe quality too. Get them.”

“I don’t know. You think I’d wear them?”

“We’ll get to Texas eventually, I’m sure. Or other Western states. I think you’ll wear them.” He wasn’t the type to splurge on himself the way I was.

He stared into the mirror.

“Get them,” I said again. “They’re a great souvenir.”

“They’re expensive.”

Just like a man to say a thing like that. “They’re cowboy boots. If they were cheap, they probably wouldn't be worth buying.”

Finally, he nodded. “Okay. But I’m going to run them back to the car. I don’t want to carry a package around when we go see Glen.”

“Smart.”

He took them off, made the purchase, and headed back to the car. I went into the T-shirt shop next door and looked at all the touristy nonsense. Lots of T-shirts with pictures of Johnny Cash flipping people off, something that hadn’t been for sale in the Johnny Cash Museum gift shop.

Sin returned shortly. “Miss me?”

“So much.”

“Buy anything?”

I looked around, brows bent. “In here? No.”

He laughed. “We can probably head to North Forty. By the time we walk there and look at the alley, Glen should be in.”

I took his hand. “Lead the way.”