The Painted Desert

The members of the Sturgis Library Writers Group were tasked to write a story, poem or memoir to a photo of the Painted Desert in the Petrified Forest National Park. My story follows.

The Painted Desert

Even the early blush of the rising sun brought the vivid colors of the Painted Desert to life.  But it wasn’t the lightening of the sky that jolted Frankie Pollard awake.  It was the sudden sharp pain in his ribs.  Blinking the sleep from his eyes he focused on a collared lizard, staring back at him from less than a foot away.

“Was that you that bit me on the ribs?” queried Frankie.

“It was me kicking you, Frankie!” The angry voice hissing behind him also frightened the lizard.  It disappeared in a slot between two rocks.  Frankie winced and wished he could join the lizard in its hiding place.  The voice behind him continued its harangue, “What am I gonna do with you Frankie? You were supposed to be on watch!  I let you sleep first and now I catch you sleeping.  Anybody could have snuck up on us!”

Frankie stood and turned to look at the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.  Even with her auburn hair all wild from sleeping in the car, she was lovely.  The emerald eyes he always melted into were a shade darker because of her anger, but it only made the flecks of gold surrounding her irises even more prominent. “Aww Trish, I had just nodded off as the sun was coming up, I was keeping watch.”

“Yeah, watching the backs of your eye lids.”

Patricia, or Trish, Stoddard was really worried about Frankie.  She was attracted to him by his charm, his carefree attitude, and, ok, his resemblance to Errol Flynn.  But he was proving to be too carefree and not a very deep thinker.  They had left Flagstaff with a satchel full of cash from a savings and loan, heading for a new life in Chicago, when Frankie pulled off Route 66 and stopped in front of the Painted Forest Inn.  “What are you doing?”, she demanded.

“I’m tired, all the excitement you know, this place is supposed to be nice.”

“Frankie!  We can’t stay anywhere near Flagstaff; don’t you think the cops may be looking for us?  Especially the car!  I told you to Jack a black Ford or Pontiac.  But a blue Studebaker?  Think, Frankie! Think!”

“But I like the color blue.”

“Go! Here comes the valet!”  With a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust, Frankie zoomed out of the lot.  “I’m worried now Frankie, really worried.”  

They didn’t get much further when the Studebaker sputtered to a halt.  “Yup, out of gas.”, declared Frankie.  

Trish helped him push the car to a spot not easily seen from the highway.  Disgusted to the point of being near speechless, all Trish said was, “You’ll have to walk back and get gas from the station at the Inn.  I’ll take first watch, you take the second.  We need to get on the road as early as possible.”

Seeing Frankie asleep at dawn the next morning instead keeping a lookout for intruders, mostly cops, added to Trish’s fear that they may not make it to Chicago.  But his cheerful disposition and eyes filled with love, after being kicked awake, warmed her heart.  He turned and waved an arm at the pastels of the desert.  “Look at this view Trish!  This is beautiful!  Why don’t we just build a place here.  Nobody will bother us.  It’ll be just you and me, and this lizard.”  The collared reptile had re-emerged and was watching them from his rock perch.

“We can’t Frankie, even if we wanted to, it’s a National Park..”

Trish’s words were cut off by the demands being shouted from the rocky outcrops surrounding them.  “Put up your hands!  Don’t move!  We have you covered!”  Their hands flew up.  Tears began to course down Trish’s cheeks.  

Men in police uniforms and suits, all pointing pistols at them, slowly emerged from behind the rocks and walked towards them.  One of the uniforms was leering at Trish.  “Well, we’ll.  I believe I’m gonna have to pat you down for a weapon. Heh, heh.”

“Don’t you lay a hand on her!”, Frankie snarled.  Before Trish could stop him, he laid a fist squarely on the jaw of the cop.  Two pistol shots and a scream “NO!” resounded across the desert.  The collared lizard scurried back into its hideout.

Ernie Stricsek

Sturgis Library Writing Group

May 30, 2023