The Pink Rose of the Prairie

by Ginger Ring

  4

  The first couple miles Rose tried to stay upright. By the third mile, she gave up and slumped against the handsome man in front of her. His blackish hair was almost as long as hers. Every once in a while one of the silky strands would blow across her face. With the heat Seth must have been warm in his buckskin pants but they showed off his long legs to perfection. In true old west fashion, he also sported a light blue long sleeve shirt, brown buttoned up vest, and scarf tied around his neck. Seth looked like he’d stepped out of a western movie set.

  The man also didn’t act like any police officer she’d ever met. Sure he was all yes ma’am, no ma’am but he had a dangerous air to him. She felt safe enough though being that he was in law enforcement. If any rattlesnake or outlaws were about, this man would mow them down in an instant with all the hardware he had. A rifle, several handguns, a knife, not to mention the guy was huge. Did she just say outlaw? Yes, the heat must really have gotten to her and how could she have wandered so far from her car? If only she had her phone.

  “Hey, do you have a cell phone?”

  “A what?” He didn’t have to say it but it was obvious from his response he was going to pretend he didn’t know what a cell phone was. The ‘I’m from the old west’ façade was getting old fast. They would soon be to town and then she could at least phone her parents and let them know she had arrived safe and sound.

  “Never mind.” She rested her head on the back of his shoulder. A rock solid shoulder built of muscle. He had that long, thick, black hair like the tribal cop, Mathias, on her favorite show, Longmire. Being this close she couldn’t help but inhale the healthy scent of male. It was a surprisingly nice combination of soap, leather, and fresh air.

  Despite the heat, goose bumps rose on her arm. What if he wasn’t taking her to town? She had no idea who this guy was. The man oozed testosterone. If he were to drag her by her hair to a cave, she wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Maybe he was part of some reenactment and not a real policeman after all. Why hadn’t she asked to see his badge? Rose shot back up and scanned the hills ahead. Nothing. Nada. It was unending prairie in every direction.

  “So. Ah. Peterson, is it?”

  “Hmm.”

  Obviously a man of few words, she kept going. “So where did you go to school? You know, to be a police officer.”

  “School?” He laughed. “There’s no school to be a lawman. It’s usually whoever is brave enough or dumb enough to take the job.” He slowed his horse and added, “A sheriff just has to be quick with his head and swift with his hand.”

  “Wait, are you an actor? Am I on TV or something?” Giggling, she smoothed her hair and tried to find the hidden camera but where would they hide one out here? Was it a drone or satellite perhaps?

  “I’m just a simple lawman.” He patted the hand around his waist. “Don’t worry, you are safe with me. I won’t let any roughnecks cause you harm.” The saddle squeaked with every step of the big horse’s hoofs.

  Roughnecks? Was he making fun of her? “You make it sound like you’re Wild Bill Hickok or Wyatt Earp,” she teased and shot in the air with her fingers as pretend handguns.

  “I met Earp once. He’s a good man. Don’t care much for Hickok.” Peterson spit to the side.

  “Well, I guess you didn’t feel too bad about him getting shot in the head then, huh?” she joked. This Wild West reenactment thing was getting old but she could play along too.

  Peterson brought his horse to a halt again. “Hickok was shot?”

  “Yeah. Back in what? 1876. I just saw a show on the history channel about it.” The leather saddle creaked as he turned to face her. He had a blank stern look on his face and his eyes were unreadable.

  “You know.” She titled her head. “He got shot in the back of the head while playing poker in Deadwood. He had a pair of aces and eights, they call that the dead man’s hand. I thought everyone knew that.”

  “This is 1876 and last I heard he was still alive and well.”

  “Yeah, right? And I’m Calamity Jane.” Rose arched her sore back and his eyes fell to her boobs.

  “I met her once. Believe me you two look nothing alike.” He snorted and kicked Kadoka into a walk.

  “If this is 1876, then either I’m dreaming or you’re crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy,” he uttered under his breath but she heard him clear as could be. “You said Hickok got shot, when exactly was this?”

  “Ah, let me see. It was at the Saloon No. 10. I know that for sure. He was playing poker and a guy came up behind him and shot him. A guy named McCall. Jack McCall.”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar but I’ll keep an eye out for anyone by that name.”

  “Don’t worry, they caught and hung him. I believe it was in Yankton.”

  “Yankton, huh?” The horse started to trot and she had to grab him around the waist to hang on.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Nope.” The guy sure stayed in character well. That’s for sure. Her teeth rattled with the bounce of the trot.

  “Stop.” Rose screamed and the horse halted.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You may be used to riding around on a horse but my legs are about rubbed raw and all this bouncing is going to shake a tooth loose.” She hated to complain but the stress of not knowing where she was, and Peterson’s insistence that he lived in the 1800’s was starting to get on her nerves. “Plus you’re freaking me out with this old west stuff. How far are we from Harvest?”

  He pointed in the distance. “You can just see the edge of town.” Peterson clicked his mouth and Kadoka started toward town.

  Relief and despair hit at the same time. She was glad to see Harvest but hated to admit her time with Seth Peterson, if that was his real name, was ending soon. Rose circled her arms around his waist and held on tight. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and her heart skipped a beat. With her luck, some member of the school board would probably be the first person they ran into. That’s all she needed.

  A gasp escaped her lips as the town got larger with every step of the horse’s hooves. It was like a movie set. Everyone was dressed in old fashion attire just like him. There were horses and wagons and no signs of the twenty first century anywhere. This couldn’t be Harvest. Even with the heat, she was chilled.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone.” His reassurance both frightened and comforted her.

  “Why is everyone starring at us?” Her arms hugged him tighter.

  “Because you’re half naked.” His husky laugh made her tingle.

  “What? I am not.” Feminine giggling caught her attention and she looked up at a group of colorful ladies lounging on a deck above. “But those ladies have less on than I do.”

  “That’s a whorehouse.” He released her hands from around his waist as they stopped in front of a light green building. The overhead sign proclaimed it Brink’s Dry Goods and General Store. “Let me do the talking. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re crazy. I’ll see if anyone has found your horse.” His voice low so only she could hear.

  “I told you I don’t have a horse, I’m looking for my car,” she whispered back.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. You start flapping your mouth about cars and a cell with a phone, whatever the hell that is, not to mention claiming Hickok being dead.” He flung his leg across the horse’s neck and jumped down. “They’ll be wanting to lock you up for the night.”

  Wiping away the tears that threatened to fall, she sniffled and straightened her shirt. That wasn’t a good idea as a dirty cowboy stepped closer for a better look. Tobacco juice drooled down his chin.

  “Hey, Seth. Who ya got there?” The cowboy slurred his words.

  “None of your concern, Butler. Why don’t you go back to the saloon and have another beer.” Grabbing Rose around the waist, he pulled her to the ground, and onto the wooden sidewalk.

  What had he gotten himself into? The eyes of the townspeople were squarely on Rose. His jaw
set and he shoved his hat firmly on his head. They walked into Brink’s business. He didn’t know where else to take her. Maybe they knew something of her family, or her sudden appearance. She hadn’t let go of his hand, not that he was complaining or anything. Even if she was touched in the head, he still cared what happened to her. She appeared way too smart to be crazy.

  “Brink,” Seth called out. A bald head popped up from behind a shelf of canned goods.

  “Afternoon, Peterson.” He walked forward with a feather duster in one hand.

  “Mr. Brink, Miss McAllister was separated from her group a few miles from here. Anyone in town, mention anything about a missing party or horse?”

  The shopkeeper scratched his head. “No, can’t say as they have.”

  “Unfortunately Miss McAllister lost her clothes as well. Can you find her a few garments to wear and keep an eye on her while I go to the jail house?” Rose gripped his hand tighter. Her eyes were wide.

  “I’ll go get Mrs. Brinks and she'll fix you right up ma’am. You poor thing.”

  Rose’s blue eyes pleaded with him to not leave but he had to ask around town and talk to his deputy. “I have no money.”

  “Don’t worry. The Brinks will take good care of you. I trust them.”

  “Good afternoon Mr. Peterson. My husband said you have a lost lamb in need of some things.” A robust woman with a gentle smile gave Rose the once over.

  “Yes, put whatever she needs on my account and I’ll be back soon.” Prying her fingers from his hand, he gently shoved her forward to the couple and walked to the door.

  “Seth,” she rushed after him, “you promised not to leave me.”

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry I’ll come for you.” With a mind of its own, his hand cradled her chin. His thumb caressed her cheek. Time stopped. A man could lose his soul in her blue eyes.

  Someone cleared their throat. “Miss, come with me.” She had a kind voice, the shopkeeper’s wife.

  “Let’s find you something to wear, while Mr. Peterson attends to business.” Mrs. Brinks put an arm around Rose’s shoulder and led her to a shelf of clothing. He could still feel those eyes observing him as he walked out the door. There was no doubt in his mind that they wouldn’t find any lost horse or missing persons.

  5

  Rose couldn’t wait to get to town and now all she wanted to do was leave. Obviously she was dreaming, that was the only explanation that made sense. The shop looked like an antique store. The only problem was that everything was brand new. “This is crazy,” escaped her mouth.

  “What miss?”

  “Oh, nothing. Look, I really don’t need much. I won’t be staying long.” Where was Peterson? She started to panic.

  “You need clothes. You can’t run around in your undergarments.” Rose refused the charity and wasn’t about to put on some hot prairie dress. “At least let me pick out a few things and wrap them up for you. Whatever you don’t want nor need, Mr. Peterson can return.”

  Her ears perked up with the name of her rescuer and she nodded. “Have you known him long?”

  “Yes, Mr. Peterson’s been here a few years. He’s a good man.”

  Her heart soared at the recommendation.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll find your family.”

  What family? She needed to find herself first. Either she was hallucinating or somehow living in another time if this wasn’t a dream.

  “Mrs. Brink. What day is it?”

  “It’s August first, dear.” Her hands busy wrapping her purchases in brown paper and tying it with a string.

  “August first of what year?” Rose crossed her fingers behind her back and held her breath.

  “You poor soul.” Mrs. Brink walked around the counter and placed Rose’s purchases in her hands. “It’s August first, 1876.”

  “I’m sorry, I need some fresh air.” On shaky legs, she headed for the door. A large package of vintage, no, new 1876 clothing hugged to her chest. “Thank you, Mrs. Brink.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” The wood floor creaked with her ample weight as she followed Rose down the aisle.

  “Yes, I just need some air. I’ll wait outside until Seth comes for me.” An overhead bell jingled as she opened and closed the door. The sounds and smells of a frontier town surrounded her. In the distance some men argued about the price of gold and a couple of women strolled by engrossed in a conversation as to what they would serve a thrashing crew this year, whatever the heck a thrashing crew was. The air was hot, dusty, and smelled of hay and horse manure. One of those horses whinnied in the distance. Her stomach growled with the aroma of roast beef that someone was cooking nearby. When was the last time she’d eaten? Nausea hit when she got a whiff of bad body odor.

  “Well, look what we have here.” A huge dusty man stepped her way and blocked the sun with his bulk.

  If she just ignored him, maybe he would just go away. A wood bench beckoned so Rose rushed over. She sat down, crossed her legs, and rested her arms on the fluffy package of clothes.

  “Well, ain’t you fancy?” The stranger sauntered over and sank down next to her. Too close. Rose scooted more to the left. He followed suit until she hit the bench arm and was trapped. “You sure are a pretty girl.” It took everything she had to not gag from his rancid breath.

  “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m just waiting for someone. Please leave me alone.” Maybe if she could reason with him, he would go away.

  “Looky here boys, the little lady doesn’t want to be rude but I think she just told me to leave her alone.” Some of the man’s buddies approached. They were just as dirty and menacing as he was. She hugged her package closer to her chest. “I don’t think she’s being very neighborly.” So much for this being a dream, it was turning into a nightmare quickly. “Why don’t you give me a little kiss girly?” Her heart pounded so loud they could probably hear it. Where was Seth?

  His meaty arm gripped her shoulder, imprisoning her. His hot breath scorched her skin. The sinister grins of his friends did nothing to decrease her rising panic. “Please, don’t touch me.” The terror filled voice resembling nothing of her speech, even though it came from her own lips. She had some pepper spray in her purse but that wouldn’t do her any good now.

  “What’d you say missy? I don’t hear too well.” Disturbing laughter rang from his companions. “It sounded like you want me to touch you.” She was frozen stiff. The man’s hand wrapped around her throat and he bent his head. His lips mere inches from hers. An evil smile filled with rotten teeth.

  “No, please stop,” she whimpered. Hysteria rising. Her skin crawled from his touch. Why wasn’t anyone coming to her aid?

  The men goaded and cheered their friend on.

  The click of a handgun hammer cocking back echoed and everything went still.

  She couldn’t move. Her eyes were closed. Rose prayed it was Seth Peterson’s pistol. The wooden sidewalk creaked with the cowboys’ retreating steps and she was suddenly free of the filthy man’s hands. Risking a glance, she watched her tormentor carefully rise with his hands in the air.

  “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.” It was Peterson. He’d come for her. She exhaled and could finally start to breathe again.

  “Now, now friend. I didn’t mean no harm.” The guy spat on the sidewalk and narrowed his eyes at Rose. “I didn’t know she belonged to you.” He and his cohorts grumbled and headed to the saloon. A sense of relief waved over her and she finally stopped shaking.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” That was an understatement for sure. This was not her element. Just because she loved history didn’t mean she wanted to live in it.

  Peterson grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. “I thought I told you to get some clothes and stay in the store.”

  “I did, they’re in the package but then she started talking about it being the 1800’s and I had to get some fresh air and then this guy came up and wouldn’t leave me alone.” She rambled on. Her mind was fried so sh
e just kept mumbling.

  “Women.” The man let go so fast, she almost took a tumble. “Sit here and don’t move.”

  All she could do was nod and clutch her package to her chest like it was a life vest.

  “Is that understood?” Seth pointed his finger at her like he was commanding a dog to stay.

  “Yes.” Rose nodded.

  Peterson flung the shop door open. Her ears picked up bits and pieces of a conversation with the shopkeeper. “And add this to my account, too.” Seth tossed her a shawl when he came out. “Put this on and come with me.”

  Rose did as told. Her feet scurried to keep up. What was he so mad about? Son of a biscuit. She was the one that had been harassed by a bunch of drunken cowboys. Her rescuer mounted his horse and then lined the steed up with the sidewalk.

  “Get on.”

  She put her foot in the stirrup and he pretty much tossed her on the back of the horse. The stallion pranced three hooves in the air at one time.

  “Where are you taking me?” She had no choice but to hang on tight.

  “Home,” he grumbled as they trotted down the street.

  A few townspeople stopped and stared. They must have been quite the sight? Laughter from above caught her attention. It was the girls from the balcony. The ones attired in colorful dresses and their long hair hanging free.

  “Who ya got there?” a busty redhead yelled down.

  “A friend.”

  “I’d like to be your friend Seth.” More snickering.

  Peterson tilted his hat to the crowd above. “Good day, Ladies.”

  Jealousy spiked out of nowhere. How many of those ladies had he been friendly with?

  He kicked the horse and almost unseated her. She struggled to hang on. In no time at all they’d left the town far behind.

  “Seth?”

  “What?”

  “Could you please stop this thing?”