The Mercantile Shop

She looked up at the empty sky, lifted her hand to shield her eyes, and decided she would stop once she reached Salt River. She calculated she was a half day or more north of Goldfield, a major gold mining town. She could almost hear the river over the noise of her horse’s hooves hitting the rocky path, and she looked around to enjoy the last moments of solitude that the road provided.

She clicked at Tumbleweed, and tapped her heels into his belly, “Only a little further Tum.” 

Tumbleweed’s ears folded backwards to acknowledge he heard her, but was not too fond of what she had said. He continued to drag his feet forward for her, mostly because he too could hear the welcoming noises of Salt River calling him forward.

After a half hour of more dry vegetation and dusty roads they turned the curve around the base of Brown’s Peak and the view of Snake River opened up. It was the first time these two had seen green vegetation in three days. Even with that happy sight, Jamie grumbled under her breath and shifted in her saddle to relieve some of the strain in her low back. Stopping meant she would have to change; she knew it was necessary, but she still hated doing it. Tumbleweed ignored her grumbling and quickened his pace at the promise of a rest. 

She dismounted at the edge of the river, and huffed as she landed on the soil that was softened by the water. She gave herself a pat down to brush the dust off her trousers and chaps. She walked over to the river’s edge, washed her face, and gazed at her reflection.  

“I hate this, Tum.” She talked out loud, not expecting her horse to respond. 

She touched the gentle curve of her jawline, and then she tucked a piece of her straw-yellow hair behind her ear. She turned away from the reflection and walked over to Tumbleweed’s saddle. She gently patted Tumbleweeds brown coat, procrastinating the inevitable. She finally opened the saddle bags that held a blanket and her other clothes. She hung the blanket over the nearest tree branch to create a small amount of privacy. She stepped under the cover and began the process of sharpening her jawline, broadening her shoulders, and shrinking her chest. She removed her fitted vest and shirt, folded them gently, and then pulled on a large, full-sleeved frontiersman shirt.

She tilted her head one way and her neck cracked, releasing the tension in her now thick and muscular neck. She shook her shoulders out and straightened her posture with the confidence of a man. Gritting her teeth she started making different facial expressions while the remainder of her body changed from curvy and full to rigid and muscular. 

Her voice deepened as she grunted, “I’m comin’ from the north, hopin’ to be in and out by tomorrow morn.” She coughed and repeated her story a few more times before she was used to her new voice. She came out from behind the blanket, and Tumbleweed breathed out in annoyance. 

“I know Tum, it’s just a pass through, we’re not stayin’ long, just need supplies.” Jamie, who was now a he, ran his fingers through his short dark brown hair. He moved and shifted around to get acquainted with his male form. He put away his blankets and female clothes in his saddlebags, and when he clicked the buckle closed he imagined closing all his female idiosyncrasies in that bag too. 

They continued their journey, and reached Goldfield just before sunset. Jamie reminded himself that he was now James, and he needed to get in and out with minimal fanfare. Tumbleweed walked them up to the Mercantile Shop, and he hopped off his horse to tie him to the banister. As he stomped up the stairs in his bigger leather boots two women opened the doors giggling with each other.

“You are lyin’ LeeAnne!” a beautiful woman in an expensive light blue dress that showed a ridiculous amount of cleavage, exclaimed as they exited.

“Am not! She lifted her foot and placed it right on the step, lifting her dress up, way too far dare I say…”

LeeAnne trailed off on her story as she saw James walking up the stairs. Both women surveyed his figure, spending extra time staring at his broad shoulders, and then they blushed in faux modesty.

“Oh,” hiccuped LeeAnne,

“Sir, a pleasure,” the other woman flirtatiously whispered at him as she fanned her face with a light blue fan that matched her dress.

He kept his face stoic as he removed his hat.

“Ladies,” he responded as he tilted his head and averted his eyes.

The women pushed their chests out and moved aside for him to enter the Mercantile. As he walked through the doors the women burst into a fit of whispers and giggles as they walked away. He hated how attractive he was as a man; he wished his male figure was as bland as his female version, less attention is brought to him that way. But, a lone woman travelling on horseback through the Arizona desert is not a sight that would be accepted. He needed to play the part, get his supplies, and then be on his way.

He walked through the third aisle of the shop when he heard the door open and close again. He groaned inwardly, knowing that this would not be as easy as he wanted. A man slowly, deliberately, walked up behind him, landing each step a bit harder than necessary to make his presence known. 

“Good day to you.” the man said in a husky voice.

James turned his head ever so slightly and grunted in response. He always avoided talking in his male form, it always gave him away.

“What brings you ‘round these parts? Haven’t seen you before.”

He still did not turn fully around, he just responded with his rehearsed story, hoping it was short enough to make the man leave him be. 

“I’m comin’ from the north, hopin’ to be in and out by tomorrow morn.” 

“Quick turn’round… what’s the hurry?”

“No hurry to leave, just…” he searched for a response that would not raise alarm, “motivated to get to my final destination.”

“And where’s that?”

James turned around now, realizing that this man was not going to leave him alone without answers. 

“A lot of questions for a passerby trying to give this town some business then to be on his way.”

James stood up tall, as a man would, and faced the man who was bombarding him with an array of questions. 

“I just want to be safe, that was my girl you just introduced yourself to, and I want to know who is introducing themselves to my girl.” 

“No introductions were passed, I simply nodded in hello to the ladies.” 

James clenched his teeth, refraining from responding in anger. He hated when men called women “theirs,” as if they were property. He had to remind himself he was a man at the moment, and he needed to act like one.

“Well it sure looked like one, how about you introduce yourself to me then, you got a name?”

“James.”

“Oh, we got ourselves a Jimmy! Well Jimmy…” the man responded, allowing a smile to grace his lips, but not his eyes.

“I said, James. Not Jimmy.” He retorted, trying to show a bit of strength, something he was never good at.

The demeanour of the other man changed, and he put his two thumbs into his belt, his right hand gently touching the holster on his hip. He licked his teeth and snapped his lips in annoyance. 

“I’m just being friendly here Jimmy, now you’re not makin’ it easy. I’m Butch Stapleton, the son of the Governer. I like to know who enters my father’s town, who talks to my girl, and who wants to give --” Butch looked James up and down, measuring him, “business to my town’s establishments.” Butch finished as he rocked back on his heels, trying to prove some type of point that James was not picking up on. Maybe if he was a man for more of his life he might understand what Butch was trying to imply inbetween his words, but he was at a loss. 

“Well, you did your duty sir, I am just a passerby, getting supplies and carrying on tomorrow morning to my final destination.” 

“Which is?” Butch repeated one of his previous questions.

“None of your business. As you said, you care about what happens in this town, my final destination is not this town, so it is none of your concern.”

Butch furrowed his eyebrows in a small amount of confusion, and James berated himself. He must have increased the octave in his voice when he said ‘none of your concern’, as a woman would. He needed to keep his sentences shorter or else he would give himself away. 

“Well, then, where is it you will be staying tonight?”

“I was hoping the Saloon would have an opening.” James responded as he grabbed his last needed supply, a bag of dried beans, off the shelf.

“Well you are out of luck partner, I think they are sold out tonight, and good thing too, my girl is a waitress over there, and I don’t need you introducing yourself to her again.” 

Butch blocked James’ exit towards the cashier by placing his arm on the shelf and leaning his wieght onto it.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well then why did you walk into my town?” Butch retorted as he shoved James’ shoulder as he walked past. 

James couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, “Thought you said it was your father’s town, how about you go check with him?”

“That’s it! Outside!” Butch grabbed the collar of James’ shirt and shoved him through the front doors of the shop. The push made James drop all his supplies, breaking open the bag of dried beans across the floor of the shop. He swore under his breath that he was now going to have to pay for those even though the bag is now useless to hold the beans.

Butch continued to shove James down the front stairs, yelling for the attention of the citizens around the town, “This man threatened me, and now I am claiming my right to face him in public.” 

The two girls that James had happened upon were standing on the porch of the bank, just across the main road from the Mercantile Shop. They gasped and looked around, yet James knew it was them faking fear to show daintiness. His mind raced in the different ways he could deescalate the situation but was coming up empty. The last shove from Butch made James fall to his knees and the dust to fly up around him. 

“A duel!” Someone yelled, and it made James swear under his breath. 

Tumbleweed was standing in front of the shop, lazily nawing on some straw that he had grabbed from the horse next to him, bored by the show that Butch was trying to put on. 

“I’m not dueling you, Butch. This was just a misunderstanding.” James said raising his hands, trying to show that he was unarmed and not prepared for a duel. 

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been acting sweet on my girl!” Butch yelled, gesturing towards the two women across the road, trying to keep the crowds attention on him.

A crowd started to gather, and James was lost for a way out. He started, “I simply said hello --”

A shot rang out from someone in the crowd shooting into the sky with their handgun. James flinched and Butch jumped behind the column at the top of the stairs. The crowd parted as an old man with a grey handlebar mustache walked through the opening in the crowd. 

“Butch, what in the name are you yelling about now?” An old man grumbled in a raspy voice. 

“Gramp! This man --” Butch began.

“I’m sure this man did absolutely nothing to you.” The old man waved Butch’s words off. James deduced that this may be a regular occurance with Butch, and he was grateful for the old man showing up. 

The old man walked up to James and lifted him off his knees, “Nothing to see here, go on, get!” The old man yelled at the crowd, gesturing for them to scatter. As everyone returned to their daily lives, the old man glared at Butch as he walked across the road and joined the two girls on the porch. 

“Now,” the old man said, quietly, into James’ ear, “how about we get you a room at my Saloon then?” 

“Thank you sir, I just need to finish getting my supplies,” James shook his shirt out, and tucked it back into his trousers. 

“Oh, we will get those later, we need to have a discussion.” The old man responded, gently pulling James towards the Saloon. Even though the man was gentle, James could tell he really did not have a choice.

The two men sat down at a table after booking James’ room for the night and the old man ordered them two drinks.

“You will have to excuse my grandson, he is still trying to prove himself to his father, something he has yet to figure out how to do.” The old man started, but looked into James’ eyes as if this conversation was about something other than Butch.

“All is forgiven already, I am just --”

“Passing through?” The old man finished, “Yes, that is probably smart, not many like the types of you ‘round here.”

“Son of a --” James said lowly, through his teeth.

“Don’t worry son, my trained eye is not common ‘round here either. I pegged you the instant you road in. Men don’t sway with their horses as much as you do, you need to get better at the rigid riding that men do. And the hand on the hip? Drop that down while you ride, straight down, let it just hang.”

“Why are you --?”

“Because, I am one too. I just enjoy the male form much more than the female. I was always thankful that I liked this form better, it’s easier to live as a man in these times.” 

“You’re telling me.” James responded, grateful that he could speak freely, even if it was in undertones and whispers. 

“You headed to Tucson?” The old man said, with a bit of a hopeful tone to his voice.

“I am, I heard there is a community there, west of the city, one that is…”

“Like us? Yes, there is. It is wonderful.” The old man responded, looking out the front window of the Saloon, with a hand on his drink.

“You talk as if you have been there?” James prodded, even though he hates when strangers prod into his life.

The old man nodded with a finality that halted James from asking any more questions. The two men sat and finished the remainder of their drinks in relative silence. After, the old man walked James over to the Mercantile, and James was able to get all of his supplies. The shop keep even gave him a new bag of beans with no hard feelings. James assumed it was due to the old man vouching for him, and he thanked the old man again for his kindness and understanding.

“Be off in the morning, before the sun rises, we don’t need another debacle on our hands… and James... stay safe on your travels. Even though it is open and freeing once you get there, the road there is not as safe, especially if you prefer your --” he looked around to make sure there was no one close enough to hear him, “other form.” 

James took the old man’s words to heart and left before the sun rose. He stayed in his male form the rest of the trip, worried that the old man’s words would jinx him. He practiced riding with a more rigid posture, and with his arm limp by his side. Counting the miles until he could change back into his desired body. 

Once Tumbleweed walked up to the community’s furthest fence line three days later, James exhaled in relief. He had made it, and he saw three men approaching him and Tumbleweed from the outermost building. He dismounted and waited for them to reach him. 

“Hello, are you lost? We can assist.” One of the men yelled as they got closer.

“I… um… hope I am not lost.” James responded, not sure how to ask if this was the right place.

The three men seemed guarded, and that made James feel as if this was, in fact, the right place. He started again, “I heard… of a community… with… um…”

“Ah,” one of the men tilted his head and took James’ expression in, “Follow us, please walk beside your horse.”

They entered the bank, and the men left him at an empty teller station, “Wait here.”

James looked around as he waited. Everyone was just living their lives, but James could feel an immediate sense of community and acceptance. A woman walked out from the back room and regarded James. 

“What is your preferred form?” She asked, lifting blank papers in her hand. The question was not in regards to the papers, and it was asked in a way that someone without the power to shift would not understand. James had tears forming in his eyes at the question.

“Female.” he whispered, still not completely comfortable talking about it out loud, in public.

“Good. Welcome. We have an opening at our Mercantile Shop, are you open to being a cashier?”