The Night of the Bloody Rose
A Wild Wild West Story by Martina Ross
It was a hot summer day in New Orleans. James West and Artemus Gordon strode down the narrow streets, admiring the tall, colorful houses that sprang up from the ground on both sides, the women in their bright summer dresses that often passed by, the parades of horses, carriages, peddlers, and even penny farthings. Colorful streamers, balloons, and flags were everywhere, and the place, as usual, was in a gay setting.
"Isn't a lovely day, James?" asked Artie, smiling as he pulled his brown hat over his eyes.
"Artie, every day in New Orleans in the summer is like this," replied Jim, "Unless it's raining."
"Yeah, but I didn't just mean the weather," said Artie, "Look at the decorations, the houses, the people, the women, young and flawless-"
"Artie," whispered Jim, "That woman."
"What woman? Oh." Artie's mouth clamped shut as an elderly, obese woman walked by. "Whoops." he whispered, embarrassed.
"Well anyway, the place looks nice, doesn't it? I mean, not that New Orleans is never like this, but...but...uh..."
"Artie." said Jim, slightly annoyed. "I get it."
"All right then!" huffed Artie in exasperation. "Where is your enthusiasm, James? I thought our vacation in New Orleans was always something you looked forward too!"
"I'm sorry Artie, but you tell me this every time we come here!" laughed Jim, "I could recite the entire thing from rote memory!"
"All right then." said Artie, standing across from Jim and folding his arms. "Recite."
Jim laughed and began. "Isn't it a lovely day, James? Artie, every day in New Orleans in the summer is like this, unle-"
Jim's speech was cut off by a loud scream. The men spun around to see a runaway chestnut Arabian and buggy with a screaming woman coming from under the bridge.
Jim wasted no time. He rushed to the horse and jumped onto its back, pulling on the reins. "Whoa!"
The horse reared and whinnied, then her hooves hit the ground and she snorted. Jim hopped off and rushed to the buggy. The woman inside panted hard.
"Miss, are you all right?" he asked.
The petite woman nodded. "I think so."
"What happened?" asked Jim.
"Some organ grinder's monkey got off his leash and threw his cup at my horse and she just got out of control."
"Where was that?" asked Jim.
"Just behind that arch." said the woman.
"I'd better take a look, just wait here," said Artie as he took off under the bridge.
Jim nodded then looked back at the woman. "Are you from here?"
"Yes, I live on 9th street on Braisette square in Dinahtown, 5 miles from here," she said, breathless, "I came down here to see if the peddlers and shoppers had anything interesting." She collapsed back, panting hard. "Guess I'd better head back."
"Lady, you're in no condition to drive," said Jim, "Would you mind if I took you back?"
The lady gasped. "Oh no, I couldn't Mr.-"
"James West." smiled Jim. "And I insist."
"Thank you very much Mr. West," smiled the woman.
Jim stared at her face. She was in her early thirties, had cocoa brown eyes, fair skin, and dishwater blonde hair pulled off her face and back into a bun. She wore a lavender dress with a lacy V-neck, matching hat with plumes and velvet, and white gloves. Her perfume smelled of peaches and flowers. Her voice was low and soft. Jim's eyes widened. "Miss, I'm...I'm..."
"You're what?" asked the lady.
"Well, miss, what I was going to say was that...hey, what is your name anyway?" asked Jim.
"Oh, it's Violetta Lee Carleton." she said. "I'm sorry that I didn't introduce myself earlier. Now, what is it you were about to ask?"
A strange fog seemed to come into Jim's mind. A weakness he'd never felt before gripped him. There was something peculiar about this woman that made Jim want to get to know her better. "I...believe I was going to ask you out to dinner at 7. At Miss Valgorba's."
"Oh, really?" she smiled, flashing her white teeth. "I'd be so glad to! Thank you Mr. West."
"Allow me to drive you home," he offered, "I'll come and pick you at 7 tonight."
"Thank you very much, Mr. West," the woman smiled.
Jim climbed in, and was just about to click to the horse when Artie appeared. "Hey Jim, I just searched the outskirts, and there's no sign of—hey, where ya going?"
"I'm taking the lady home," said Jim, "And I'm getting her at 7 for supper at Miss Valgorba's. I'll meet you back at the hotel."
Artie nodded. "All right then, but Jim-"
"Artie," said Jim a little irritably, "We can talk about that at the hotel, okay?"
"I just wanted to say-"
"Later Artie." Jim clicked to the horse and drove off under the arch.
Artie just stood there, gaping. Of course Jim was a temperamental and impatient man, but he was never rude, and most certainly never to Artie, and never in front of a lady.
For a moment he just stood there, a bit shocked. He couldn't understand why Jim had snapped at him. He hadn't done anything wrong. All he had tried to tell him was that he'd searched the outskirts and there had been so sign of an organ grinder nor his monkey, and no one had any idea of what he was talking about. Something had to be up.
Another thing that bothered him was Jim's face. While it hadn't looked any different yesterday or the day before or whenever, there was something about it that Artie couldn't quite distinguish.
Anger? Fatigue? No. Distraction? Artie replayed the scene in his mind. No, it was blankness! But why? Jim hadn't looked like that earlier today. He seemed totally fine and alert as always. But when Artie came back from under the arch, Jim had looked completely emotionless. But he couldn't have been, or he never would have snapped at him for trying top tell him something quick and simple. He would just have to head back to the hotel and try to reason it out.
Artie walked over to a peddler and gave him a dime in exchange for a large, fluffy pink cloud of cotton candy. Artie took a bite. Although it wasn't his favorite treat, his fianceé, Sandy, who was studying as a Secret Servicewoman back in Washington, loved it. He often bought some whenever they were in New Orleans or at a circus somewhere, because it made him think of her.
I miss my little girl, he thought a bit sadly, but it's just one more year, then I'll have her. Forever.
For the next few minutes, he just stood there munching, watching the parades or people passing by. Then, with a sigh, he tossed the empty paper cone into the wast basket and trudged back to the hotel, still trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Only one thought cut in: Jim isn't ill...is he?