A Gunslinger's Flower

The morning sun shown bright over the tree tops warming the land around me as I sat puffing on a cigarette poking the embers of a dying fire. Hearing a rustle behind me I turned to see the entrance of the tent part and her reddish brown hair dance in the breeze as she stretched out with a yawn.

"Thought ya might sleep all day dear. " I said with a grin

She pulled her shawl tight as the chill mountain air stirred.

"And miss your famous burnt rabbit and sour coffee." Her retort chill as the air around us.

Eyes locked, we stared at each other until she couldn't manage the scowl any longer and we both broke into laughter. I took her into my arms and playfully danced her over to the fireside where we picked at the skewered rodents and sipped our sour coffee as we sat nestled on a log.

"I want to ride out over that way today." Mary said with excitement as she played with my beard. She pointed to a valley still shrouded in mist and shadow as the morning light had yet to reach it's depths. I rolled another cigarette, struck a match on the log, and lit it watching wisps of smoke and ash carried away in the wind.

"Yeah, I think we can do that. We can catch a few fish in that there stream for lunch."

I said as I gestured towards the half way point down the ridge.

"Then it's a date!" She exclaimed, jumping up and running into the tent and then back around the side of the wagon.

"What're ya up to now woman?" Shouting after her with curiosity.

"I'm making myself pretty for you, silly boy!" She said with a wink as she poked her head and bare shoulders out from behind the wagon.

"I'm your husband, you don't have to change behind a wagon." I grumbled with mild irritation as I stood up.

"How do you think I've kept your attention all these years?" Calling out from behind the wagon with a tinge of giddiness riding on her voice.

Just as I approached the back corner of the wooden wagon, attempting to catch a glimpse of my beautiful wife she lept out hair flying wildly.

Stopping dead in my tracks I could only stare at her in such a beautiful dress.

"When did you get that lovely item?" Flirtation owning my voice.

"The last town before we reached the mountains, Lion's Head, I think it was called. I saw this in the store window when you were getting a shave and a haircut. It was very affordable, honest, John!" She added the last part hurriedly hoping I wouldn't be upset at the unneeded expenditure.

"I love it." I said grabbing her by the waist and tipping her back and kissing her with ferocious passion. She wriggled free of my grasp and skipped away joyously calling out, "We have to get the horse saddled and get going if we're to make it back by nightfall!"

Happily I obliged, cursing my trousers for suddenly becoming too small.

We rode out not twenty minutes later with her riding behind me, arms wrapped around my waist and head resting on my shoulder, commenting on the landscape and wildlife the whole journey down into the valley, which I found quite soothing.

Soon enough we reached the aforementioned stream and ate a fish each for lunch and quickly started up again to avoid wasting daylight. As we came over a small hill that looked more closely into the valley we could see that the sun had illuminated a magnificent sight: a field of marigolds bathed the landscape in hues of orange, red, and yellow. Immediately she lept off the horse and charged at full sprint into the field, twirling and dancing, hair and dress flying along beside her.

Hitching the horse to a nearby apple tree, I crept beneath the line of vegetation, and as I neared her, I could see worry crease her brow, noticing my absence she called out,"John? Where'd you go off to?!"

I lept out and threw her to the ground, the air ringing with laughter. We spent some time together as husband and wife do, on a bed of sunset hues as flower heads rained around us. We lay in the aftermath of our escapade, basking in each other's glow and she stroked the skin on my back tracing the scars left over from the war.

"What was this one from again?" She asked, tracing the thick tissue along my shoulder.

"Remember? I told you about the poor kid's bayonet was bent when he charged me so he pulled a kife and got me good in the shoulder."

"And then what did you do?" She asked pressing her lips together firmly as she does when she's pondering an idea.

"Well darling, I shot him dead."

"You men and your violence." She said with a hint of disappointment.

"It was either him or me, my love. Besides, if I hadn't done that he might be laying here next to you instead of me, and that would never do!" Saying this I pulled her on top of me and kissed her hard and rolled her over to the other side of me as I climbed on top of her. Just then I noticed beside her head the most plump and beautifully coloured marigold. A swirl of all three hues blended together like a contained sunset.

"Not all men are prone to violence." I said as I plucked the multi-hued gem and held it for her to see. She marveled at the magnificence of it's colouring with a gasp.

"Your own personal sunset." I said adoringly as I slipped the stem behind her ear. The flower shown brightly next to her dark features but was only exalted by her indescribable beauty.

On the way back to our camp we reminisced of the time we met during the war. I had saved her from being ravaged by confederate mongrels and we had fallen in love and stayed as such ever since. We marvelled at how nearly a decade had gone by, and yet it still felt like the day we married.

After checking the traps around camp, happy for two more rabbits to cook up for dinner, we ate as the moon rose in the sky. We spent some more time, intimately, in the tent quickly falling asleep afterwards in each other's arms.

We awoke to shouting. Dragged from our tent, the moon glared down on us.

"Get dressed." The assumed leader of the apparent gang coldly stated as he tossed our clothes on the ground in front of us. As we clothed ourselves he spoke:

"We've been tracking you two since you robbed that bank back in Lion's Head. Smart of you to take to the mountains.  It was very hard tracking you down." He said this wagging his finger and spitting out the wad of tobacco in his mouth. "But not impossible." He shouted with a brown stained grin as his cold eyes glowed preternaturally in the moonlight. The other men began tearing our wagon apart in search of the money.

"It wasn't us!" I protested harshly.

A quick slap from a leather billy brought me to my knees. Turning as I fell, I used the momentum to launch myself at the assailant behind me and tackled him to the ground. We scuffled in the dirt and then a sharp blow to my head knocked me off. Through blurred eyes I saw the leader holding a repeater, the stock bloodied of which I could only assume was my own. I began crawling to my knees as he wound up and cracked me again in the forehead. All I heard were Mary's cries as I drifted into the abyss.

I woke to the pain in my head and felt the encrusted blood in my hair and beard as my eyes were stabbed by light even through my eyelids. The sun so cheerfully hung in the sky  in direct juxtaposition to the gruesome scene of my camp. Everything strewn about, suitcases lay bare and equipment scattered around the dilapitated tent sunken and torn. The wagon and horses were gone. I groaned with exasperation as I stood. My eyes finally adjusting to the bright rays were then instantly betrayed by the image before me. Mary's huddled form lay but feet from me, her dress torn and bloodied. I lept to her side and scooped her up in my arms, with no life left inside her. Immediately I crumpled to the ground and my throat seared as I unleashed an unearthly howl of despair. I sat there and sobbed and cried for an unknown length of time; hours it felt like. It was night by the time I gathered myself and using the broken shovel I made her a final resting place overlooking the valley in which we so joyously spent the previous day. Right outside the entrance to the tent I saw the marigold flower on the ground, tinged with her blood and placed it in my pocket.

Months later....

I stood on the ridge overlooking their camp, studying their movements as they prepared for night. I hitched the horse to a nearby tree, out of sight. I had followed their tracks for a while and now I was finally upon them. As I fingered the dried marigold still stained with the blood of my beloved I wondered what life had withered away with it. Placing it back in my pocket I grabbed the repeater off my horse and secured the Colt on my hip and thought to myself, "Tonight I ride out one last time."