OK Doc (p.2)
Fiery gray eyes raked her from her beribboned bonnet down her peachy gingham dress.
She could see why ladies in corsets fainted, Rose thought, as that all-encompassing gaze drew the breath right out of her. Not that she was wearing a corset, although the dress called for one.
She’d been a bit surprised when the bulletproof vest he’d given her had molded itself to her, contouring to her breasts and ribcage like the best, high tech whalebone.
Forcing herself to breathe, she pirouetted before him. “What do you think?”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes approved.
He held out one leather clad arm. “Shall we go?”
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Rose sat cross-legged under the tree, her skirts plumped out around her like an enormous mushroom. She looked down at the pathetic little dusty town, and gave a sigh.
The Doctor lay sprawled beside her, long legs stretched out, leaning back against the tree, his hat tipped down over his face.
Rose picked a blade of grass and stuck it in her mouth. It seemed the thing to do here. She bit down and grimaced at the sharp green chlorophyl taste. She spat it out.
“You know what, Doctor? The Old West is boring.”
He tipped the corner of his hat up and peered at her out of one eye. He just grunted as if that was obvious, and closed his eyes again.
“So, come on then,” she poked him in the thigh with one long, pink-tipped finger. “Where’s the aliens? Where’s the Indians? Shouldn’t something be happening?”
“We’re the aliens here, Rose. And I seriously doubt the Native Americans are going to stage a raid on the town just for your amusement. They’re smarter than that. And despite what you might have seen on telly, they don’t go around attacking towns and wagon-trains just for the fun of it.”
“Well, yeah, but normally whenever we show up something happens.”
“Something already did happen. I was here last year, if you remember.”
“Impersonating, ‘Doc’ Holliday.” She grinned hugely. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I was young.”
She snorted. “Not to hear them tell it.”
They had strolled through town, greeting people, and even coming up with a story of having travelled in on the train. They’d looked around, peering into the quaint antique shops and the dentists/barber shop (which the Doctor had hustled her past for some reason.)
Determined to do the thing up right, Rose had even dug up a lacy pink parasol from the wardrobe to go with her outfit, rejecting the Doctor’s offer of a redhandled umbrella.
She’d been grateful for the protection, the town was hot and dusty, not much more than a dirt road and clapboard buildings, the wooden sidewalks creaked and groaned under their feet and piles of manure steamed gently in the streets. Whenever they’d had to cross the road Rose had been very careful where she’d stepped, and very grateful for the shade of the parasol as the relentless Arizona sun beat down on them like a heavy weight on their shoulders. She didn’t know how the Doctor, all in black, stood it. But then, he never seemed to notice the temperature.
“Is there any chance of seeing Indians?” Rose asked, fascinated in spite of herself. Up here, at least, there was a cool wind blowing.
The Doctor propped himself up on his elbows. He looked around, as if getting his bearings. “The 1880’s wasn’t the best time for the Native Americans. The tribes were being systematically dismantled by the U.S. government, children being sent away to schools and forcibly “Westernized," he spat the word with distaste. “Whole cultures virtually wiped out in only a few years.”
“Cultures? I thought Indians were Indians.”
He rolled his head to give her a disdainful look. “No more than Europeans were Europeans. There were as many pre-Columbian cultures in North America as there were in pre-Columbian Europe.”
“So, what is this then?” she said, waving around at the desert landscape. “Like Spain?”
“The Spanish were some of the first Europeans to colonize here, but if you’re referring to Native Americans then this general area was home to the Navaho, Apache, and Hopi cultures. That’s not what they called themselves, of course, but those are the names you’d know them by.” He plucked a dry bit of straw from the lee of a rock and stuck it in his mouth, reclining back again, the very image of a lazy cowpoke, despite the professorial lecture.
Rose just enjoyed looking at him for a while. God knows he was the only thing out here worth looking at. Scrub, dirt, rocks and weeds, this was even the only tree for miles, with the exception of a few struggling fruit trees in some of the backyards below.
The Doctor had said the town had grown since he’d last been here. The one high street had branched off into neighborhood streets. Rose had spotted more shops down the side streets, mixed in with the wood houses and kitchen gardens.
There was even a photography studio. She’d noticed it right next to the empty lot where the Doctor said the actual shooting had taken place. Rose had been disappointed that it wasn’t an actual corral.
“Doctor, why is that rabbit playing a flute?”
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