Rose of Cimarron

This is a fictional story written for the Story Cabin writer's prompt. 

       Rose Dunn waited by the window watching for them to come.  She knew they were robbing the bank today whether they wanted her to know or not.  The boys had been planning this particular caper for about a month.  They had moved to this remote cabin far away from town several months before leaving Rose to make it into a home and plant a garden while they hunted for food and did G0d only knew what.  She stayed there where it was peaceful while they gallivanted all across the countryside raising hell. She never asked what they were up too, but occasionally she would hear their plans anyway.   Once their mission was accomplished they would eventually find their way back to her for nourishment and to nurse any wounds they may have received in their getaway.  She worried.  She glanced back at the clock over the mantle and the minutes continued to tick at a snail’s pace.  What if something terrible happened and they were caught?    If they were caught, what would become of her?   

         Surely if the plan went as expected her brothers and her beloved would be there by supper time hungry and demanding their bellies to be filled.  With a sigh she grabbed her basket and headed out to her garden to pick vegetables for the evening feast lost in her own thoughts.  The birds were singing and her mind filled with thoughts of George. 

          It was only just recently that he had noticed that she was more than her brother’s sister.  He had began talking to her more, and last night while the gang planned their exploits for the following day he had stole her away leading Rose by the hand away from everyone else into the moonlight to steal a kiss .  She didn’t tell him that he hadn’t merely stolen her kisses; he had stolen her heart as well.  She would do anything for him.  Infatuation had turned into love over the last several months.  If her brothers had known, they would have skinned George alive.  She smiled at the thought, and at the thought of those stolen kisses her cheeks warmed and her stomach flip flopped.

         She gathered the vegetables that had ripened, took them to the stream nearby to wash the dirt away, and then went back to the house to prepare a hearty stew on the cook stove and bake a loaf of bread.  By the time the men returned, the stew would fill the house with its delicious aroma.  Her eyes strayed again to the clock as she worked.  Where were they?  How she wished they would return soon!  She continued glancing every few seconds out the window, to the clock, and then to the road.  Her brothers never shared with her all of their plans because they said if worse came to worse the less she knew the better.  Finally she heard the thundering of horses hooves coming.

          She looked out the window and could see the dust rising in the distance.  They were coming!!  She hurried out into the yard to meet them.  What would the nuns at the convent where she had went to school all those many years think if they knew she was harboring outlaws or worse yet kissing one in the moonlight?   As they drew closer she could tell one horse had no rider.  Who was missing?  Oh G0d no!! She rushed out to meet them and soon discovered her older brother Billy had been hit by a stray bullet.  He was lying across the front of George’s horse.  He needed tending to immediately and she frantically began ordering the men to carry Billy in and place him on the bed so she could dress his wounds.  She took control of the situation in spite of her tender years, and they obeyed.  Her eyes caught George’s and held. He seemed fine, thank G0d.  A smile crossed his features and her heart caught.  She couldn’t think about that now.  She had to attend to Billy!!

          He was semi conscious as the others lowered him onto the bed.  He was pale and had lost quite a bit of blood in spite of the bandana the boys had tied against the wound in attempt to slow the bleeding.  She went to work cleaning his wound, sterilizing, and preparing to remove the bullet as the nuns had taught her.  Her lessons in the convent would serve her well.  Sweat poured off Billy’s brow as she worked to remove the bullet from his flesh, stitch the hole, and bandage the wound.  She mixed a tonic that would help him heal and gave him some whiskey to dull the pain.  When her work was done she knew he would be fine.  The wound hadn’t been deep.  She left him to rest and went to find the others.

       They were gathered around the table discussing the events of the day and dividing their take.  Her eyes caught and held George’s as she dished up the stew she had prepared for them.  They ate heartily, thankful for their Cimarron Rose.  She took care of them all so well.  They made their plans to hide out because they knew the law would soon come looking for them.  They would need Rose to bring them supplies until the worst had blown over.  They would always be wanted men at this point but with the riches they had gotten away with today they would never want for anything again, except their freedom.  They would always be on the run now, but they would always return to their Cimarron Rose.  She would take care of them and hide them.  She would always be there for them.  She loved George. They could see it written all over her face every time she looked at him.  She was their sweet Cimarron Rose until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
  

Note: Eventually Rose’s brothers would cross over to the other side of the law and become bounty hunters.  They would collect a reward of $5000 for killing George “Bittercreek” Newcomb when he came to visit their sister Rose.  Rose of Cimarron was the nickname given to Rose Dunn, a woman made famous for her romance with the infamous George “Bittercreek” Newcomb, a member of the notorious Wild Bunch who terrorized the old west robbing banks, holding up trains, and killing the lawmen who got in their way.