Of Boardwalks and Bison

1

Author's Note

Most people familiar with my work know me as Tymber Dalton, writer of romance books. They might not know that my first loves as a writer are mystery, suspense, horror, and speculative fiction. It took me quite a few years to finally see my dreams of becoming a published author come true. Meanwhile, I still wrote. Non-fiction, mostly, to make money. But I never stopped writing fiction in my spare time. Some novel-length stories, some shorter. Even dabbling in poetry and flash fiction.

This collection of short stories and flash fiction came to life over several years. I hope you enjoy Lesli’s work as much as you’ve enjoyed Tymber’s over the years.

2

Of Boardwalks and Bison

It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. She wasn’t naive enough to suppose it would change much about their marriage. If nothing else, she thought it would provide a well-deserved respite from life.

She saw a weekend TV show travel feature about the park and it pulled at her. She wanted to see some of the country and they never traveled anywhere.

Correction, she never traveled anywhere.

He never let her.

It took her weeks to work up the courage to broach the subject of taking a vacation. At first he met her idea with a few disinterested grunts.

Maybe. We’ll see. You never do anything around this house though, so I don’t know why you think you deserve a break.

This was her life for the past seven years. He changed within weeks of the wedding. Her Prince Charming turned out to be an evil toad in disguise. She didn’t think she deserved any better. Her mother put up with her father’s fists for decades before he died of a heart attack. Who was she to complain if all her husband did was yell?

On the Internet she researched and accidentally left the print-outs on her desk where he was sure to snoop and see them.

With the fly fishing information on top.

A few weeks later, he grunted at her from behind his morning paper. I have some vacation time built up. Where would you like to go?

He didn’t hear her sudden, sharp, hopeful intake of breath.

Wherever you want to go is fine with me. If she showed any preference, it would ruin all chances of going. It had to be his idea.

She’d learned that lesson within the first few months of their marriage.

The less she said, the better off she was.

Why don’t you call that place in Yellowstone you were ranting about? Make sure to find out about the fishing. I want a guide to take me fly fishing.

Ranting? She hadn’t even mentioned it.

She could spend the week sitting in the cabin, for all he cared. In fact, he’d prefer she did just that and stayed out of his way. He enjoyed himself most when certain she was miserable.

He gave her his credit card to use after she did another week of research and he was satisfied she’d found the lowest price possible.

And he made her pay for it in many ways, both subtle and obvious. He knew how much she wanted to take this trip, and he was determined to get his pound of flesh. In bed, she closed her eyes and thought of bison.

With him on top of her, it wasn’t that much of a stretch anyway.

The predictable pattern continued leading up to the trip. She somehow managed to tune out his verbal tirades and live through his physical attentions during the ensuing weeks. Her tongue felt like she would bite clean through it, but she knew one word would be all it would take for him to cancel the trip.

It was a relief when their plane finally took off. One step closer to her goal of seeing geysers and bison and bears.

Oh my.

The closer they got to the park, the more obnoxious he became, taking every advantage to bully her in front of people. It was something he was skilled at and apparently took his greatest joy in doing. She didn’t care. She’d expected this. How could he enjoy anything if he didn’t think he was making her miserable in the process?

He seemed to live his life with a balance sheet in his head. Her misery equaled his pleasure. It was as if he thought there was only enough joy in life for him, and he had to take that from others.

Her friends abandoned her soon after the wedding, when it was obvious she had chosen her lot in life and wouldn’t give it up. He paid the bills, refused to let her get a job, kept her under his thumb.

But at least he didn’t hit her.

Not physically, at least.

He insisted on driving. When the rental car clerk asked if she would also be driving, he snorted.

What, are you kidding?

She felt the familiar burn in her cheeks and studied the floor. It was worth it to get to the park. Two weeks of wilderness, with a few daytimes away from him while he went off with the fly guide.

They flew into Spokane because it was cheaper. She suspected he enjoyed the fact that the drive was longer and would give him more time to punish her for her pleasure. He made her practically beg him to stop for bathroom breaks. One time, she walked out and found the car gone from the pump.

She couldn’t tell if the pounding of her heart was fear or relief.

She jumped, startled, when he honked the horn from the other side of the parking lot, grinning, obviously assuming he’d scared her.

Get your ass in here before I really do leave you behind.

She couldn’t tell if the fluttering sensation in her chest as she scurried across the parking lot was relief or disappointment.

It was a long drive through Montana, then south into Gardiner, where they stopped for lunch just outside the park. The closer they got to the park, the more vicious his comments.

He grinned at her as she ate. That’s going to make you look like a buffalo, you eat that whole thing. he said, delighted at his wit.

She didn’t care. The buffalo burger tasted delicious and it was worth putting up with his taunts.

He must have approved of her behavior. Before driving through the massive northern stone gates he pulled over and told her she could take pictures. The digital camera her sister had sent her before the trip didn’t interest him in the least because he hated electronic gadgets.

She secretly suspected it was because he thought they were smarter than he was.

They stopped in Mammoth Hot Springs for the first night. He checked out the stores while she walked the boardwalks surrounding the terraces and other thermal features. The sulfur smelled bitter and yet like a sweet perfume. It hadn’t sunk in that she had made it, finally made it.

And for once, she had peace and quiet.

With a careful eye on the time, she savored every minute on the boardwalk and made it to the restaurant for dinner with five minutes to spare.

He looked at her over the top of his menu and grunted his approval. At least I didn’t have to wait on you.

He would be leaving with a guide early the next morning, leaving her to her own devices in the town. At least four or five hours of peace!

When he got up the next morning,