The Woman and the Dead Cowboy (Short Story‪)‬

The dead cowboy had been living in the woman's guest room for nearly a year when he developed a nasty cough. The two of them were sitting down to dinner--pulled pork sandwiches and baked potatoes--when he started coughing. She asked if he was choking and he shook his head. The cough sounded bad. She asked him if he wanted some water. He shook his head. The coughing stopped and the dead cowboy told her he'd been coughing all day long. She said she was sorry to hear that. She asked if there was anything she could do, if he wanted to go see a doctor. He said he wasn't sure what a doctor could do for a dead man. She told him he didn't look so good. He told her he felt fine. The woman was relatively young. The dead cowboy looked young, but had been dead for many, many years. He did not haunt the woman. He knew that he was dead; he had no unfinished business or unsettled scores. The dead cowboy had a name, but the woman didn't use it. She didn't want to get too attached. She called him cowboy or hey, cowboy depending on the circumstances, and he didn't seem to mind. He rarely cooked but he always helped with the dishes. He could fix anything. The woman brought home books on appliance repair, home improvement, car maintenance. He read them while she was at work and made himself useful, changing the oil, building shelves, rewiring the living room for track lighting. He kept the guestroom clean, the bed always nicely made. She wasn't sure if he slept in it. She wasn't sure if he slept. She often wondered what he thought about at night.