Not Her Fault

Jackie sat on the steps of her sorority house crying. Her clothes were disheveled and her hair was pulled partially out of the ponytail she had once donned. Her makeup was streaked from tears. Her friend Tammy stepped outside when she heard the crying. 

“What happened?” she asked sitting down next to Jackie. She placed her arm around Jackie’s shoulder.

She turned to her friend. “I shouldn’t have gone to that party with Pete.”

“I thought you were breaking up with him because he kept trying to get you drunk,” Tammy said.

“Yeah, but he invited me to a party that I never would have been otherwise. I thought with all those people around it would be safe,” Jackie admitted. 

“Oh no,” Tammy said. “College parties are too rowdy for anyone to pay attention to someone else’s safety. What did he do?”

“I made myself a drink and Pete tasted it. He made a face and said I had made it too strong. He told me he would dilute it for me and just grabbed it and walked off. He came back about a minute later with it. When I tasted it, it was a little bitter. He said he might have put the wrong soda in it. I swear I only took two sips, Tammy, and my legs just went out from under me.”

“The bastard spiked it,” Tammy said. “What did he do after that?”

“He mumbled something about helping me walk it off to someone and took me to his car. I tried to stop him but I was helpless. I could think, but I couldn’t fight him off. I started to scream but he slapped me. Then I just closed my eyes and turned my head away. He shook me and told me he wanted to watch. When I looked out the window instead he slapped me again. He yelled, ‘I want you to see me do this!’”

Tammy pulled her closer. “I am so sorry. Do you know what he gave you?”

“No. He actually had the nerve to say I probably wouldn’t remember it tomorrow but to make sure I wasn’t pregnant! What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”

Tammy sighed. “You need to go to the cops.”

“I can’t, Tammy. My parents will blame me and the school will never back me up. You know how the campus police works. They take the report and somehow it magically disappears.”

“You need to go to the actual cops and let them forward a report to the campus police. That way it will go where it needs to. Don’t let the school bury it to keep their stats low. Your parents can’t blame you. Rape is never your fault.”

Jackie bawled. “I’d be so embarrassed. How will I face everybody?”

“With your head held high. Do not let them intimidate you. I’ll be with you.”

“Tammy, will you go with me?”

“Sure I will. Let me grab my keys. You haven’t taken a shower have you?”

“No. He held me up and walked me to the steps and just left me here.”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m starting to feel steadier. I don’t think I drank enough of whatever it was to work for long.”

Tammy helped Jackie walk into the police station where she gave her statement. A female officer accompanied her to the hospital where blood was drawn and she went through the hours-long process of having a rape kit performed, photographs taken, and evidence gathered. They took her clothes and gave her hospital scrubs to wear.

Tammy took Jackie back home where Jackie got a shower and crawled into her bed and cried herself to sleep. 

Word spread all over campus about Pete’s arrest. The college president and the dean of students had a meeting with Jackie to ask why she didn’t go directly to campus police.

“I didn’t want it buried. I wanted him gone and not doing that to any other women,” she answered.

“Jackie,” the dean said as she was walking out the door, “This was not your fault. It was his. The blood test came back. He put Quaaludes in your drink.”

“Thanks,” she called back over her shoulder. “I have an appointment with a rape counselor in thirty minutes. I really have to go now.”

Careful of the Lone Rider

Beau felt the vibration even before he heard the thundering hooves. It woke him from a deep sleep which he hadn't had in weeks. Swearing under his breath he quickly rolled up his blanket and threw his saddle and saddle bags onto his horse. He cinched the saddle tightly listening to the herd of something, for he had not yet determined what, cattle or horses, getting closer. Sweat trickled down his brow as he climbed onto his nervous paint and rode away from the edges of the canyon which would spew its animal contents at any moment. In seconds he recognized the panicked bawling of spooked cattle and even in the darkness of a half-moon sky he saw the dust cloud ahead of the crazed beasts.

They quickly laid waste to what had been his camp; it only took seconds.

"Damn!" he said, patting his horse on the neck trying to calm the nervous animal. It was dancing around and nearly threw him off as he held the reigns tighter. The heavy dust cloud spread in his direction and he pulled his kerchief over his face and closed his eyes. The horse tried to turn away and he let him with a, "Sorry boy."

"Are you all right mister?" someone asked.

Beau opened his eyes and saw a young man of about twenty astride a tall white gelding. He had a pale hat pulled onto his head and because they were in the shadows of the canyon, Beau couldn't make out much else. 

"Oh, I reckon I'll live," Beau told him. "What got 'em spooked?"

'I don't know, maybe some critter got in with them they didn't like. They were peaceful and then they were running like hell," was the reply.

Beau just nodded and brushed the dust off himself and then reached ahead and brushed what he could from his horse's face.

"Why don't you come over to our camp?" the young man asked. "I'm sure our cook has coffee on already and he'll start breakfast shortly if I don't stop him."

"What about that cattle?"

"I don't hear them anymore. I expect the other fellas got them stopped by now.

"Alright," Beau replied. "My grub is pretty well ruined. I did good to get my saddle and blanket."

The young man looked at the place that had been Beau's camp. "You were lucky. They could just as well have trampled you and that paint of yours."

They rode together back to the camp, neither saying much as they looked over the damage the stampede had left in its wake. Cacti were shredded into mush and mixed with sand and the sparse grass as they rode through the canyon. At the mouth of the canyon was a grassy oasis with a small spring-fed pond. Beau could see the cook's wagon at the other end of the grassy patch and a fire burning low beside it.

The paint balked and Beau looked down, steadying the animal. "Whoa." He patted its neck. "It's okay," and led it around what had scared it.

"What's wrong?" the younger man asked.

"I think a rattler got after one of your cattle and spooked it. Could be what started it all. That rattler is pretty dead though, so I'd say the animals came out ahead."

"Hey, Lou, that coffee sure smells good," the cowboy called to the black man wiping his brow with a weathered kerchief standing near the fire.

"Oh, good, somebody's come back," Lou said. "Did you get 'em stopped Mr. Pete?"

"I reckon so," Pete replied. "This fella here almost got trampled though," he said pointing to Beau. "Say, what is your name? We never did exchange pleasantries."

"I'm Beau," he replied, "And you did ask if I was okay."

They climbed down and tied their horses to the wagon. Lou handed them each a cup of steaming chicory coffee and a biscuit.

"Thanks, Lou," Pete said. "We'll help you load the wagon and find the herd."

Two hours later just after sun-up they rolled up on the herd of a hundred fifty cattle which were grazing peacefully.

"I see they found more grass," Beau told Pete.

"Well, Texas ain't all sand; it just feels like it sometimes. They should be good from here; we only got a couple more days to go anyway."

"Oh, you're not taking them to market?" Beau asked.

"No. My boss sold them to the army. We're taking them over to the fort."

"Oh," Beau said. "We'll do you mind if I ride with you fellas a ways? It gets mighty lonesome out here," he added.

"Sure," Pete told him. "Where you headed?"

"No place in particular," he answered. "I guess I'll know when I see it."

"I'll introduce you to the other fellas when they come in to eat. They have to keep a pretty close watch over the herd. We can't go losing them now," Pete said.

Beau rode watch over the herd for two days, giving one then another a chance to go eat and get some rest. He told them it was the least he could do for their hospitality.

"Hey, Beau, some of the boys are heading into town.  Want to go?" Pete asked him. "We turn this bunch over to the army tomorrow afternoon," he said indicating the herd of cattle.

"No, you go ahead. I'd rather stay behind," he answered.

"You know, I sure wish you'd have talked more the last two days. I didn't really get to know you all that good," Pete said. "Of course you're welcome to stay on after we're done. I'm sure the boss wouldn't mind."

"That's all right. I think it's time for me to be moving on anyway."

"Well, if you change your mind about coming into town, there are plenty of men staying behind to watch them critters. Just follow the sound of the piano playing in the saloon."

Beau watched as Pete and several of the men headed to town. He waited until they were out of sight and loaded his saddle bags with some of Lou's biscuits, filled his canteen, and rode out of camp. He rode west late into the night putting distance between himself and the encampment. "They served their purpose," he thought. "No one will know where to look for me. Juarez, here I come. "  

"Pete, it's good to see you again," the sergeant said sticking out his hand. "How was the trip up?"

"Oh, it was pretty good except for a minor stampede. We got all of them here though," he said.

"Good, glad to hear it. Come on to the office and we'll get you paid."

A troop rode into the fort looking ragged and tired. They climbed down from their mounts handing the reigns over to boys who would make sure the animals were brushed and fed.  They then headed slowly to the barracks brushing off several layers of dust.

"Where they been?" Pete asked.

"Looking for an outlaw," the sergeant answered." He killed a judge over by Fort Worth when he convicted him and his brother for cattle rustling. He told the judge it was a lie, that they did no such thing, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He grabbed for the sheriff's gun and shot the judge, then they both jumped through a window. They managed to get to their horses though."

"You got papers on him? Maybe we came across him on the trail. He traveling with his brother?" Pete asked.

"No, he got killed during the escape. Old Beauregard got away clean."

"Beauregard?" Pete asked. He turned white as a sheet when he saw the wanted poster. There was Beauregard Richardson, also known as Beau, wanted dead or alive.

"What's the matter Pete? You look like you've seen a ghost. This fella would have been traveling alone, probably south, so we've been trying to find someone all by themselves. I guess they didn't have any luck."

"I think I know why," Pete told him.

Red Hot Valentine

Bess sat at her desk and sighed. “Cynthia, do you know what I miss about elementary school?” She pushed her large glasses up a little on the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t imagine,” Cynthia answered. “I am so glad to be graduating this year and getting out of here I can barely stand it.”

“There is that,” Bess said. “It’s Valentine’s day in a couple days. In elementary school everyone got a card, several actually. It was forced, but so what? No one was left out. Once you get to the upper grades nothing. Not one.”

Cynthia started laughing. “Do you want me to give you one?” 

“Asks the girl who gets one from nearly every guy in the class. No, I do not want a pity Valentine from my best friend. I want a genuine Valentine from a guy who is interested in me. But since I am not a knock out beauty, or a cheerleader, or any of that other popular girl stuff, it isn’t going to happen.”

“Bess, you are not ugly. We have an unusual ratio of girls to boys here. When a new one shows up, girls act like sharks to blood. The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance,” Cynthia pointed out with a chuckle. 

“I noticed. That’s why I stand back out of the way. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so negative! You’re actually quite pretty under those glasses. I know you can’t wear contacts, but you might try a little makeup once in a while. They won’t even notice those giant frames,” Cynthia told her.

“You can hardly miss them. Anyway, maybe college will be different.” She tried to look hopeful and smiled.

“You just wait. I’ll bet someone will see you for who you are. Prom is coming up in a couple months,” Cynthia reminded her. 

“Tell me about it. I’ll probably just sit it out like last year. I will not go stag!”

The bell rang and the girls gathered their books and moved out into the throng of students making their way to their next classes, stopping at their lockers to exchange books and greeting friends along the hallway. 

One boy watched from behind his locker door at Bess and Cynthia as they disappeared behind a classroom door. He slammed his door shut and leaned his head against the cold metal. “Just a couple days left,” he muttered and jumped as one of his friends cupped his shoulder on the way by. He looked up at the other boy who had turned and grinned at him motioning him to get to class. He did that a lot. 

“So, did you ask her yet?” Jerry asked Sam as he pulled his text book out of his backpack.

“She is way out of my league,” Sam said. 

“Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Jerry said, giving him a slug in the arm. “The prom is coming up. If you don’t ask her someone else might beat you to it.”

Sam grinned a lopsided grin. “Maybe I’ll give her one of those goofy valentines. I think my mom kept some of my leftovers.”

Jerry snorted. “Dude, no!” He lowered his voice when his classmates turned to stare at him. “No Ninja Turtles. We are way too old for that.”

Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess we are. I’ll come up with something.”

Valentine’s Day arrived and girls were finding cards stuffed in their lockers and placed on their desks. A few had flowers and some had red velvet heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. Bess and Cynthia walked into their history class chatting about all the cards Cynthia had accumulated.

“Oh, look, someone put it on the wrong desk,” Bess said, lifting a handcrafted envelope off her desk and handing it to Bess.

“Thanks,” Cynthia said taking the envelope. She read the front and handed it back. “Actually, this one is for you.”

“What?” Bess grabbed it, a shocked look on her face. She read the front and stared at it with her eyes wide.

“Don’t just stare it. Open it! It’s kind of heavy for a card,” she added.

Bess nodded. She turned it over and carefully lifted the edge. “I think it’s edible,” she said. She pulled it out slowly. It was made of heavy white paper with a red paper lace doily in the shape of a heart. The center had cinnamon heart-shaped red hots attached with a small amount of icing. She opened it up.

Cynthia read it out loud over her shoulder and burst out laughing. “To a girl who is as hot as the candy! Be my Valentine. Sincerely, Sam Johnston.” 

Bess turned red and then she smiled. “He’s in trig with us. He sits two seats down. I like him.”

Bess hugged her friend. “Prom date!” she exclaimed.