The canteena (Short Story)

THE CANTEENA   It had been about a week since he'd rode in from the dusty desert. He had been frequenting the canteena of the small, forlorn border town for quite a while now. He had every intention of just passing through. There was nothing attractive about this sleepy, little speck on the map save for one thing now. She caught his eye almost immediately, a petite senorita, slight build, as he'd been admiring her from a distance, he thought to himself with a coy smile how easy it would be to pick her up with one hand. He sat at a back corner table, sipping on his beer, watching as she served drinks to the sometimes rowdy, flirtatious patrons. Even though their remarks could be crude, she still served them with patience and a forgiving smile. It was that smile that first caught his attention, her full lips pursed, her eyes gleaming as whispy ringlettes fell down along her cheeks, accentuating her cheekbones and soft olive skin.   She had served him many drinks in the week he had been coming there, always with such politeness. He wondered if she'd ever really noticed him or if his tall, lumbering figure would shy her away. He knew he would have to be on his way soon. He had already lingered too long, yet he wondered to himself, hopefully, if anything would ever bring him this way again. He knew he would not be able to get this lovely senorita off his mind so easlily. She would haunt his thoughts for a very long time.   Sudddenly a great noise erupted. The doors of the canteena flew open, banging hard against the walls shaking the glasses off the tables nearest to the entrance. All eyes went directly to the man standing there, the cause of such commotion. No one dared move and the stranger sensed they knew the reason for him being there and it was none of their business. The man walked straight towards the senorita, such anger and resentment in his worn, ragged face, a sudden look of fear on hers. The man grabbed her by the arm, she was clearly at a disadvantage against his size, against his anger. What could she have done to warrant such violent treatment?   The stranger could not passively watch this unfold in front of him, especially when no one was coming to her aide. He arose from his chair and strode towards them. He was taller yet than the man though he didn't like to use his size as an intimidation. In this case it might be a necessary force. He grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him away from the senorita as the man loosened his grasp on her. She scurried to the other side of the room for safety, watching on as the two men exchanged punches. It didn't take much for the stranger to set the man in his place, as he sat crumpled on the floor nursing his wounds.   The stranger walked over to the senorita to see if she was alright. This would be the first time he really had a chance to talk to her, hear her voice up close. It was her man he had just bloodied. It was not a good situation as she explained and she had been dreaming of leaving this stagnant place soon. The stranger led her out of the canteena to get away from staring eyes, as they continued talking. Reaching the end of the street, they stood facing each other, their eyes meeting. He raised his hand to brush her curled, whisps of hair from her face. She did not flinch but imprinted his soothing touch into her memory. Such a contrast, from his strength to his calming gentleness, she felt at such ease with this stranger. Not knowing why, tears rolled down her cheek, her eyes closing as she shyly turned her face from his kind, caring gaze. With his hand on her cheek, he lightly brushed away her tears with his fingers. He bent down towards her and kissed her on the cheek. She looked back up into his eyes and their lips met. It was the sweetest kiss she had ever felt, his warm lips pressed against hers.   Time transcended. It was like a lifetime happening in an instant, an instant feeling like a lifetime. A myriad of thoughts raced through their minds in seconds. He knew he had been there longer than he had anticipated yet he could not possibly leave without her. She had already been there too long. She knew that if she were to stay any longer, this town would suck the very life right out of her in the shortest amount of time.   After a night of sweet love making, passionate kissing, gentle embracing, they rode out of town together early the next morning on his sturdy black stallion with dreams of a better life. EPILOGUE But there are no happy endings...maybe happy moments, but never happy endings...so, the horse probably got his hoof caught in a dry crevice causing him to break his leg and had to be shot, while she succumbed to a nasty rattle snake bite somewhere along the trail and he could not further withstand the searing rays of the sun beating down on him so after walking  for miles without proper provisions, callapsed and he too fell victim to the desert. Written January 26th, 1999 © on Jan 25 2002 04:27 PM PST   0 • 8