Dakota Blues by Spreen Lynne

Author:Spreen, Lynne [Spreen, Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2012-07-16T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

In mid-afternoon, the van crested a rise beyond which lay a town, and beyond that, the Black Hills of South Dakota where their evening campsite waited.

Frieda awoke when she felt the van slow. “Is this Belle Fourche already?” She pronounced it ‘bell foosh.’

“Almost.” The highway brought them into town past a wrought-iron cemetery, over train tracks, past a granary, and over the river. A once-critical frontier outpost of sheep and cattle yards at the confluence of three rivers, Belle Fourche stood at the dead center of the contiguous U.S.

They merged with a procession of rumbling, hissing eighteen-wheelers and ranch trucks, their big duelies caked with mud. The road broadened to four lanes and carried them at shopping speed past the Dairy Queen, a package liquor store, and Black HillsTractor. Outside a Pizza Hut, a couple of cowboys wore spurs on their boots and numbers pinned on the backs of their shirts, identifying them as rodeo riders. City hall, a humble one-story, stood on a lawn surrounded by gnarled oaks and cottonwood trees. Their cotton-fluff drifted onto the windshield like snow.

Outside town, the highway began to climb toward the Black Hills. The van handled the grade easily, and within the hour, Karen was inhaling the crisp fragrance of pine. The forested mountains, a novelty after the flatness of North Dakota, sheltered the old frontier town of Deadwood. The van crawled along Main Street with the flood of summer tourists, past the Holiday Inn and McDonalds lurking behind faux-eighteenth-century facades.

She turned into the parking lot of a small market next to a casino. “We should get some milk and something for dinner. How about burgers?”

“We’ll need more than that. You don’t want to go hungry out on the road.” In the store, Frieda grasped at the handle of a shopping cart and pointed it down an aisle, throwing in boxes of Hamburger Helper and cans of soup.

“You’re buying too much. We’ll be in Denver by tomorrow night.”

“This is how me and Russell always did it.” Frieda turned around, her cheeks lightly flushed, her eyes bright. “Loosen up. We’re on vacation. Hey, I’m going to stick my head in next door. Who knows? Might win a jackpot.” She left Karen to take care of the bill and wobbled out the front door.

Fifteen minutes later, their larder packed to the limit, Frieda returned with a paper cup full of coins and a thumbs-up. “I got lucky. Come on, girl, we’re burnin’ daylight. We need to find a place to stay.” She reached in the door pocket for the battered guide that had seen her and Russell though two decades of camping. “According to this, there are about a half dozen good places right around here. Let’s start at Rock Ridge Resort and keep going until we find one that grabs us.”

Karen put the van in gear. “I already made reservations at Sunset Pines RV Park.”

“But how do you know we’ll like it? It could be a dump.”

“It got good ratings on the internet.”

“You trust that thing?”

Karen pulled out into traffic.

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