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mine too :)

The range was a lonely place. He knew all to well the feeling of baking sun on the back of his neck and dust in his face. The road was rough and dry as he pounded on through the desert. Water canteens clanged off one side of his saddle while his trusty Winchester was strapped across the back. He needed it to protect himself from any danger that lie ahead on that vast trail. He patted his Stetson down farther on his head to shade his eyes. The gentle beasts he herded on nibbled at grass along the slow march. Good! They would sell for more at the auction. He hoped to clear enough to pay his hands, his debt to the supply freight and build onto his ranch. Back home his wife waited carrying their first child.

She was a rare beauty. Glistening locks of auburn blew across those crimson lips as she mouthed her farewell what seemed like an eternity ago. Those lips, as red as an American Beauty rose, were in his dreams every night. How he longed to be back in her arms again.

The auction went better than he had expected. Buyers for the Army were in need of fresh meat for the troops and snatched up his entire herd at top dollar! Alone he headed back home weighted down by a pouch full of bank notes. It was ample to pay off all his debts and make a fine home for his family.

Night had fallen when he returned to his ranch. Crickets chirped in the grasses surrounding the house left to him by his father. It had been in his family for generations and, thanks to the success at the auction, would continue to thrive. He dismounted and led his faithful horse to his stall in the barn. Gleeful whinny’s showed the horse was happy to be home too.

Sand ground under his boots as he walked to the ranch house. Like a true gentleman, he removed his Stetson before entering. A shower of dust fell as he shook off the remains of the dusty trail. Inside the house was in perfect order. By the lingering glow of the last coals in the fireplace he could see the dishware was cleaned and put away to keep pests at bay. He gently placed his rifle on the rough hewn table and slipped into their bedroom.

She was fast asleep. Her beautiful hair shone like a halo in the moonlight. Her dainty features and crimson lips were finally a reality and not just in his dreams. He slid off his boots, belt, jeans and shirt and collapsed beside his wife. She sighed at his gentle touch and curled up closer to his body. He was home.

The morning sunlight flickered through the muslin curtains as they blew in the prairie breeze. The soft rustle of the grasses soothed his senses. Fresh coffee was brewing and eggs crackled in a hot pan in the kitchen. His love was up and by the smells of it preparing him a hero’s welcome breakfast.

Stumbling into the kitchen scratching his tussled hair, he embraced her from behind. A gentle nuzzle behind the ears said more than a thousand words could have. He turned to find his smokes and an ashtray.

There, on the table, he spied his rifle with a crimson red rose carefully placed on top. He was home.