by Ginger Ring
Gazing up to the sky, Rose hoped for a sign. “Hey, I think I’m lost. Could you give me a signal or something? Anything?” Rose searched the landscape once again for any traces of life. Then she saw it. A sign. An actual road sign. About a half mile down the road was some kind of historical marker. She took her foot off the gas pedal and the vehicle began to slow. Hopefully it would tell her where in the world–or with any luck–where in western South Dakota she was.
Rose frowned as disappointment hit, the brown landmark sign didn’t give much information. It just pointed the way to another spot down the road. Biting her lip, Rose decided to check out the spot where something historical took place sometime in the past. Always the history buff, it would also be a great chance to stretch her legs and maybe figure out where she was.
The second sign, a quarter mile up the road, pointed to a dirt parking lot. Well, if you could call it a parking lot. It was basically a wide spot on the side of the road. She was used to a more public type of landmark, one with a tour guide and signs every step. There was nothing. She turned in, shifted into park and turned off the engine. Rose got out of the car and arched her stiff back. There was an eerie silence to the place. Where were the birds? Aside from the occasional bee or insect, she was totally alone. She peered around. Her cell phone had no bars so no need to bring that along. Leaving her purse behind, she locked her car and headed for the mowed trail that lead to the landmark. The grassy trail was well kept and obviously well used.
A small sign warned visitors to stay on the path and the cartoon picture of a rattlesnake left no mistake as to why. She may appear fearless in most things but snakes were a whole other matter. Clutching her flowing skirt closer to her thighs, she trekked on. The wind helped ease some of the heat of the day. Maybe the nearest town was right over the hill or there was at least a map nearby.
Her spirits lifted, she hiked the trail up a small hill. The tops of prairie grass bordering the trail tickled her fingertips as she reached out to brush the tops. She inhaled the sweet aroma of flowers. Roses? Rose stopped when she came to the top of the hill. Various shades of pink colored the countryside ahead. They were everywhere for as far as she could see. A large stump of a tree seemed to be the centerpiece with a plaque placed in front. The sign was probably donated by some rotary club that maintained the place. It was a stunning view. The warmth from the sun kissed her skin and a bee buzzed some rosy petals nearby.
She hurried down to where the flowers were the thickest. The whole valley was spotted with varied shades of pink flowers but at the center where the sign and tree stump sat, pink roses held court. This hardly seemed like a place that roses would grow wild. Little white and yellow butterflies fluttered around by the hundreds. She closed her opened mouth in fear one might fly in. What a magical place.
Had she stepped into a fairyland? It made her giddy and full of joy for the first time in ages. She whirled a time or two like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music movie. Her arms were out to the side and the skirt flowed in the wind. All at once she stopped but her head kept spinning. The flowers blurred.
“Whoa.” Rose pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to focus. The ground was swimming. Her heart fluttered. The caffeine from too much gas station coffee had probably caused her jitters. She gasped for breath as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. There was nothing more frightening than not feeling good when you were alone. Her other trembling palm settled above her breast.
“What in the world?” Rose struggled to remain erect. Standing still, she took three deep breaths to calm the panic. It didn’t work. Something wasn’t right. The flowers transformed from bright pink to dull mauve as a dark cloud crawled across the field. Cloud! Where did that come from? The sky was solid blue last time she looked. Was there some kind of freak tornado dropping from above?
On noodle-like limbs, she tried to reach the plaque and see if it held a clue to her location. The car was now too far away to be any help. She needed to reach that stump. There was something... A chill ran through her and she hugged her sides. Putting one wobbly foot in front of the other, she kept going. Her long Moccasins boots quiet in the tall soft grass. What happened to the clipped trail? Her gaze fell to the ground and she whimpered. Fear rose its ugly head. Something was very wrong. Did she have heat stroke? Had she been bitten by one of those dreaded snakes? Was the fast food sandwich she’d had for lunch seeking some twisted kind of revenge?
She blinked her eyes a few times hoping to clear her vision. Everything had changed. The flowers were now gone and the tree was full size. She reached the large oak. Rose circled the tree, her hand scrapping along the coarse bark. A large bird of some kind screeched in the sky. She glanced up to see what kind. That was a mistake. Clouds raced by at a whirlwind speed. She tried to swallow but her throat was parched. Rose reached out and hugged the tree to keep from falling. Rose rested her forehead on the oak but it didn’t help. Weakness and fear overflowed. She hated being vulnerable and at the mercy of any stranger that might come along. A tear fell from her left eye.
Her bright August day had started with so much promise and now she was sick and afraid. Rose’s shaky limbs could hold her up no longer. The soft flesh of her arm skidded along the rough bark. Her knees hit the ground. Tiny rocks and poky branches pierced her skin. Kneeling, she looked to the rotating heavens once more before crumbling to the ground and then everything went black.
The beautiful day went unnoticed as Seth Peterson contemplated his future. His horse, Kadoka, knew the way so that left his mind free to wander. Things were quiet in town but people were concerned. There had been reports of cattle rustling from the ranchers and what had occurred to two women in the area was still a mystery. It hurt like hell to think something like that could happen to a woman he cared about. As if he would ever be lucky enough to find a woman to love him. His footsteps had walked a single path all his life.
The people of Harvest knew where to find him if something came up. Seth puffed out his cheeks. He’d never get a job as a lawman and it was what he wanted to do more than anything in the world. Despite the fact he was half white, there was no way some would ever see past that. Sure, he’d been an upright citizen, self-taught to read and write, even scouted for the army but others would never see past his darker skin and longer hair. Locals were still cautious after the recent Battle of Greasy Grass in Montana where General Custer lost his life.
Rounding the top of a hill, he pulled Kadoka to a stop and gazed over the valley below. Someday he’d reach his goal of becoming the town’s sheriff. He’d walked the edges of both worlds all his life and knew in his heart he could bring about peace and keep everyone safe. Seth brushed aside a piece of thick, black hair that had blown in his eye. One thing you could always count on in this area was the wind. It never stopped. A pair of vultures circled above about a half mile away. That was never a good sign for what was beneath.
“Well, Kadoka, I suppose we better go see what’s got those birds so riled up. It’s probably just some poor calf that’d wandered away from his mama but we better take a look.” Peterson reined his palomino stallion in the direction of the hovering birds. Always cautious, he kept watch on the surrounding hills. No need to be ambushed by some renegades with an eye for a nice piece of horse flesh. It was dangerous times with everyone heading to the hills in search of gold. He grabbed the rifle from the saddle holster and rested it on his knee.
The disappearance of two young women in the last week had everyone on edge and families keeping a close eye on their daughters. At first the townsfolk thought it was just youthful lovers that had run off with their beaus in the middle of the night but when first one and then the other girl’s bodies were found naked and dead in nearby gullies, people were worried and distrusted any newcomers. If he ever got his hands on the person that would do such a thing, they would not survive. He tightened his grip on the gun.
There were no similarities in the women other than their bright blonde hair. One was with a wagon
train coming from Minnesota. She disappeared in the night while the other was from one of the local ranch families. They sure as hell didn’t need something like this happening. Women were as rare as flowers in the west, only the tough and wild ones survived. A rose was the uncommon and the most prized.
A quarter mile away, he still couldn’t make out what had the buzzards all fired up. Curiosity getting the better of him, he kicked his horse into a trot. Her hair caught his attention first. It appeared white as snow in the distance. Seth cursed and a knot formed in his gut. It was a woman. Dammit to hell, not another one. He readied his Winchester just in case.
It was a white woman lying face down in the tall grass. She had blonde hair, a light colored camisole. At least he thought that was what they called the undergarment, and a brown skirt. Was it Alice? The body on the ground resembled the young woman from the only whorehouse in town. What was a woman doing out in the middle of the prairie and why did he have to be the one to find her? She lay still. Was he too late and she was already dead?
3
Seth tied his stallion to the nearby tree and walked softly to her side. His cowboy hat shaded his eyes as he took another glance at the surrounding hills. Her chest rose and fell, that was a good sign. Standing above her, he enjoyed the sight of a shapely leg. The slender limb stirred him more than it should. Damn. He needed to visit one of the whorehouses in Buffalo Ridge. Seth hated paying for it but that’s what a bachelor had to do. It was just such a relief to know she was alive and in one piece.
He knelt by her side. Judging by her clothes, she appeared to be a whore. Or worse, a woman used and abused and left out to die. His chest ached. She didn’t appear to be beaten or have any broken bones. His tanned fingers smoothed her light blonde hair away from her face and his breath caught. She was far prettier than any woman he’d ever seen. Peterson couldn’t resist touching her golden locks again. It was softer than mink. On her feet were moccasins that almost reached her knees. Fringe accented the sides. Her legs were golden from the sun.
He squatted on the ground and peeked at his surroundings. It didn’t seem to be a trick but how did she get here? None of the grass had been pressed down from horse hoofs or a wagon. “Miss? Are you hurt?” He poked her shoulder. She didn’t rouse. Peterson turned her on her back. Perky, round breasts rose and fell with her quiet breaths. Her face was painted like Alice’s and the other women that worked at Adele’s. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes lined with black. He frowned. She was obviously a prostitute. That explained her lack of clothing. Her skin was tanned but not burnt. The woman hadn’t been lying there long.
“Miss?” he spoke louder and shook her again.
“Hmm,” she mumbled. A slender hand reached to rub her eyes. The woman rolled on her side and opened her eyes. They were deep blue like the Missouri River. She gazed around before looking back at him. Startled but not scared.
“What happened? Where are the flowers?”
Peterson surveyed the area. “What flowers?” Was the woman touched in the head?
“They were everywhere. Pink roses, wildflowers, I don’t know. I was looking at them and I felt sick.” She tried to stand and he steadied her on her feet. “Thank you. It must have been the heat.” The blonde woman took an unsteady step and started to walk. “I need to find my car and drink some water. Where’s the parking lot?”
What was she yakking about? “What’s your name?” he asked while following close behind. He didn’t want her to fall on her face. That’s just what he needed. A simpleminded whore with a head wound. She’d be easy prey for whatever evil was taking women from their homes and leaving them for dead.
The woman spun around and he steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was so smooth, so soft, and way too white to be out in the sun for very long. “I’m Rosemarie Alexander McAllister but everyone just calls me Rose.” She offered her hand. He wiped his on his trousers and shook it. A soiled dove with a long name and a firm handshake. “And who are you?” Rose asked.
“Peterson. Seth Peterson.” He tipped his hat.
She took a deep breath and her chest rose. His eyes again focused on those creamy breasts. Damn it. He was a grown man, not some greenhorn off the range for the first time.
“Well, Seth Peterson. Thanks for helping me up. I best be on my way.” She took off on foot again, to where he had no idea. He put his hands on his hips and enjoyed the view of her backside and swaying skirt. Something wasn’t right with this girl but she sure was a beauty. The woman stopped and looked around.
“Seth?” Although it was only proper for her to address him as Mr. Peterson, he couldn’t help relish the sound of his first name on her lips.
“Yes. Ma’am.” He stepped closer.
“Where’s my car?” She twirled a piece of blonde, no pink, hair around a finger. How the hell did those pink threads get in her hair? They were faint but definitely visible.
“Railroad car? There’s no railroad anywhere around here. Well, not for at least twenty miles or so, that is.”
“No, not a train car. My car. It’s an old mustang.”
“Sorry. I just came from town and I didn’t run into any stray horses.” Wait a second. “Miss, did someone steal your horse? We don’t take kindly to horse thieves in this part. That’s a hanging offense.” Hell, cattle rustlers, murdered women, and now horse thieves? What next, an Indian uprising or another war?
“No. Not a horse. Mustang, the car.” The woman surveyed the area like she’d never seen it before. The fact that she may be simpleminded was becoming more apparent?
“Ma’am, what are you doing out here?” He stepped closer and she stepped back. Her hands were shaking and her lower lip trembled. “Don’t worry. I’m the law, from Harvest. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was wishful thinking but saying so might put her more at ease.
“You’re from Harvest?” Her eyes perked up.
“Yes.” Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice there was no metal star on his chest.
“Did someone leave you here?” If they did, she might have a description.
“I was going to Harvest and I got lost.”
That made more sense than talking about railroad cars and pink flowers. It still didn’t explain what happened to her horse. He sure as hell didn’t want to deal with any horse thieves.
“I was just on my way home but I will take you to town. Do you have kin there?”
“Kin?” She looked confused and shook her head. “No, I’m the new school teacher there.”
“School teacher? We don’t have a school.” He placed a hand on her lower back to guide her toward his horse. He bit his tongue before adding that no school would hire a whore for the job anyway.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Her eyes searched the fields and she appeared pale. “I stopped to look at the landmark and now everything has changed.” Her hand rose to the back of her head as if looking for a bump. Her lower lip quivered. “I don’t remember falling and hitting my head.”
Peterson’s heart took a tumble. It was hotter than blazes and she was shaking. His first thought was to take her in his arms and kiss the pain away. If he did Rose would probably scream and start running across the countryside. Maybe that was how she got here? Just his luck, he cursed, to fall for some daft girl that probably ran off from a cat house. He didn’t need that.
“Let’s go to Harvest and maybe someone will know what happened to your horse.” He guided her toward Kadoka where he clasped his fingers together so she could step up and onto his steed. It was getting hotter by the minute and he needed to get her out of the blazing sun.
“I told you. I don’t have a horse.” The woman pouted and refused to budge.
“Ma’am, I’m just trying to help. I can’t leave you out here for the buzzards so either step up and get on or I’m going to throw you on the horse.” His patience grew thinner by the minute. Why did the pretty ones always seem to be the most trouble? He’d hoped for a quiet day all to himself and now h
e was headed back into town.
“Grrrrr. It’s a good thing you’re hot because you’re very rude.” Rose lifted her skirt, slung her foot in his hand, and jumped in the saddle. “Didn’t they teach you manners at the academy?”
Peterson straightened and took a deep breath. How could someone be so irritating and so stimulating at the same time? He removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm.
“Damn, you really are hot,” Rose whispered before turning away and mumbled, “Outside voice. Outside voice.”
Hell and tarnation. I’ve got a lost woman hearing voices and looking for a horse that she thinks is a railroad car. This day just gets better and better. Peterson shoved his cowboy hat back and grabbed for Kadoka’s reins. “Move behind the saddle.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t think. What a beautiful sight she made. Her light hair blew in the wind, those slender legs sitting aside his horse, and a bare shoulder where the strap of her shirt had fallen down. He cleared his throat and tried to concentrate. Modesty and riding side saddle was not a thing that Miss McAllister seemed to be concerned with.
“So I have somewhere to sit.” He regained his composure, gathered the reins in one hand, and reached for the saddle horn.
“Oh. I thought you were walking,” she muttered before settling in behind the saddle’s cantle.
“It’s several miles into town and like you said, I’m hot.” She blushed and glanced to the side.
When Seth took a seat in front of her, his horse bucked with the extra weight. “Easy there, Kadoka.” He tried to calm the horse.
Rose grabbed hold around his neck nearly choking him. After he settled Kadoka down, he unclenched her hands from his neck and wrapped them around his waist. Her skin was smooth as silk. She smelled pretty like the flowers she spoke of. He kicked the stallion into a trot but all that did was cause her breasts to bounce on his back. He groaned and slowed to a walk. It may take longer but with her body swaying and pressed tightly up against his he wouldn’t last much longer.
