Girl with a Gun Read online

  “Wouldn’t happen. Hate them all.”

  “Did you kill Kimi?”

  Lillie opened her eyes, sat up.

  “Kill her? You think someone killed her, you think I killed her?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Huh.” Lillie scratched her head and lay down again. “That’s funny, Annie.”

  “I don’t think there is anything funny about it.”

  “Don’t you have something else to do?” Lillie flung an arm over her eyes and yawned.

  Annie sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get any more from Lillie tonight.

  “Good night, Lillie.”

  Lillie answered with a resounding snore.

  CHAPTER 9

  “State Government Negotiates Indian Land Affairs with Surrounding Area Chiefs”

  St. Louis Times – April 17, 1885

  Annie woke the next morning, quickly dressed, and rushed to the stable to check on Buck, anxious to see if Twila’s herbs had helped—and half afraid they might have made him worse. Halfway to his pen, Annie saw Buck, head down, eating. A good sign. She quickened her pace, and when she got there, she leaned her elbows on the railing to watch him eat. Buck lifted his head, pricked his ears in her direction, gave her a long gaze, and resumed chewing.

  Relieved to see Buck feeling better but not wanting to disturb him, Annie walked back toward the camp. On her way she saw Sitting Bull standing by the stagecoach.

  “Watanya Cecilia,” he said as Annie approached.

  “Hello, Chief. Going somewhere?”

  “I am going to visit a man called Thomas Reed. A government man.” “So you are going into town?”

  “Yes, I am attending a meeting to discuss illegal settlers on Indian lands.”

  Annie wondered if a visit to the coroner’s office might settle her mind on the matter of Kimi and how she died. She had a few hours before the next performance.

  “I see. May I have a ride? I’d like to walk a bit in the city.”

  Chief Sitting Bull held his arm aloft, inviting Annie to climb into the coach.

  Once they were settled, Annie let her eyes rest on the Chief’s smiling face. He seemed amiable. Maybe she could ask him about Kimi’s death, if she slowly eased into a discussion.

  “This Mr. Reed, what does he do?”

  “He is a Congressman.”

  “He sounds important.”

  “Yes, very important man, with important friends. I met his friend, the writer Mark Twain. He, too, has interest in Indian affairs.”

  Annie’s mouth popped open.

  “The man who wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer? Friend Easton gave me that book for my birthday, and I loved it. How exciting to meet him in person!”

  The Chief’s smile deepened. Annie decided to press forward.

  “Chief Sitting Bull, I’m awfully sorry about Kimi. I miss her so much.

  I was wondering—how are her brothers and, well, your people faring after her death? Do they find it suspicious?”

  The Chief’s eyes drifted from the window to her face.

  “Why do you ask, my daughter?”

  “I don’t believe such a healthy young woman just . . . died. Perhaps you and your people also found that odd?”

  “We are deeply saddened by her death, but we cannot question what the spirits want for us, Watanya Cecilia.”

  “I see. I mean no disrespect to you, but I don’t believe in spirits. I believe in the Holy Spirit, but somehow it sounds as if we mean the same thing. I find the reasons for her death questionable, and I’m determined to find out what happened to her. Even if no one else questions the circumstances, I want answers that will satisfy my doubt.”

  “Perhaps the spirits, or your Holy Spirit, call you to seek answers. You have my blessing.” Sitting Bull leaned over and placed his large, warm hands over hers.

  “Thank you.” Annie’s eyes followed his gaze out the window. It hadn’t occured to her to ask for his formal blessing, but the fact that he bestowed it led her to believe that perhaps, deep down, he also questioned the young girl’s death—and perhaps he took solace in knowing that at least one white person valued an Indian girl enough to inquire about her untimely end.

  Arriving at the city’s Four Courts Building, Annie thanked the Chief for the ride. They both agreed to meet again at this place in an hour, and Annie set out to find the coroner’s office. The driver directed her to the building on Clark Street.

  As soon as Annie entered the building and spotted a door with the title City of St. Louis Coroner’s Office, her heart flipped. Did she really have the courage to pull this off?

  A short, scrawny man with bulging brown eyes and enormous grey eyebrows opened the door. Annie recognized him from his visit to the Forest Park campsite.

  “Hello, sir. I’m Annie Oakley. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “The famous Miss Annie Oakley has come to see me? What can I do for you?” He beamed.

  “Could we possibly speak in private?”

  “Yes, of course, my dear, come in.”

  Annie’s boot heels clicked on the wooden floor as she made her way to the chair in front of the coroner’s paper-strewn desktop. How he could make sense of such a mess, Annie couldn’t fathom. Charts of human musculature and skeletons lined the walls and a faint hint of cigar smoke hung in the air. A large potted palm in one corner proved the only non-medical decoration in the office.

  “I’m Dr. Chaney.” He settled onto a rickety wooden chair, the wheels of the chair legs squeaking and the floorboards groaning as he scooted closer to the desk.

  “Dr. Chaney, as you may know, Kimi, the young Indian girl you examined after her death, was my assistant, a confidant and a friend.”

  Dr. Chaney’s eyebrows pulled together, pointed downward, creating a v.

  “I don’t mean to sound impertinent, but are you quite certain that she died of natural causes? Because I am not.” Annie licked her lips, garnering courage. “In fact, I believe it’s possible that someone set out to intentionally hurt her, perhaps even to murder her.”

  The coroner’s eyebrows sprang up in surprise. He leaned forward, pressing both hands against the desk.

  “Miss Oakley, I conducted an investigation, and I informed the show’s manager of my findings. I really cannot discuss the case with you—even though you knew the girl well. I suppose you think your celebrity status entitles you to—”

  “Oh, Mr. Chaney, I don’t presume—”

  “That is exactly what you are doing Miss Oakley, bringing your presumptions to my attention, which you really have no right or cause to do.” He stood. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Mr. Chaney, I don’t mean to offend, but the bruises on Kimi’s back—”

  “Good day, Miss Oakley. Best of luck with the show.” Dr. Chaney nodded toward the door.

  Annie jumped when the door slammed behind her. Oh dear. That did not turn out as planned. She had another hour and a half to continue her research before the Chief would return for her. Where else might she find answers?

  Annie walked down Eleventh Street, admiring the store windows, when a hansom cab with two beautiful black horses pulled up next to her. The driver, a fat, jolly-looking man wearing a silk top hat, leaned down toward her.

  “You’re Annie Oakley, aren’t you, miss?”

  “Yes, I am.” Annie blushed, still unaccustomed to strangers recognizing her.

  “May I offer you a ride?”

  “I thank you, but it’s a fine day for a walk. Could you possibly direct me to the nearest library?” Annie hadn’t brought any bills, only the gold coin she’d plunked in her reticule for safekeeping, and she didn’t want to use that.

  “The nearest library is over past Lafayette Park. It’s quite a way, but really, I would be honored to offer you a lift, and I refuse to take your money.”

  Annie smiled. “That’s kind of you, and I am grateful to accept.”

  The driver climbed down from his perch, his ample body ro
cking the coach. Annie took his hand, and he helped her into the cab. After several blocks, the driver pulled the black horses to a halt.

  “St. Louis Public Library,” he called out.

  Annie stepped out of the cab, rummaging through her reticule and found two nickels and the gold coin. She grabbed the two nickels and held them up to the driver, but he waved them away.

  “I can’t wait to tell folks I had Little Miss Sure Shot in my cab!”

  “Again, I thank you.” Annie didn’t necessarily want anyone to know that she’d been in St. Louis investigating Kimi’s death, but she supposed the driver wouldn’t figure out why she’d gone to the library. She could merely be borrowing a book.

  Once inside, Annie took in the stateliness of the interior of the building. Wood bookshelves covered the walls, and stone bricks soared to the dizzying heights of the ceiling. Large tables with plush armchairs dotted the massive space, and stained-glass windows threw rainbows of light upon the floor. She’d never seen anything like it. Annie stood staring at the architecture for a minute or two, then hurried on her way.

  At the main desk, a large, very tall woman—the tallest Annie had ever seen—peered at her from behind round-rimmed spectacles.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes. I would like to conduct a little research. I’m trying to find out ways a young and vigorous person might unexpectedly die.”

  The librarian raised her eyebrows.

  “Not for ill intent.” Annie looked behind her, suddenly self-conscious.

  “A friend of mine, who appeared quite healthy, recently died, the cause not obvious. No wounds or visible ligature marks on her neck, no signs of suffocation. The sheriff and the coroner both concluded that she died of natural causes, but I’m not convinced.” Annie leaned in closer. “I’m sure you will be discrete. I wouldn’t want her family to know I’m poking around in this.”

  “Of course.” The librarian nodded, her brows pressed downward, indicating the seriousness of her promise.

  “I believe there might be more to the story, so I’d like to ease my mind by researching causes of unexpected death in someone so young, and I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You think someone deliberately killed this young woman.”

  “Let’s just say that I am curious.”

  “You know,” the librarian’s brown eyes lit up, “there was a story, long ago, about an entire family found dead in their home, right here in St. Louis. No trace of an intruder, no outward cause of death. It was quite the mystery.”

  “Did they ever find out what caused the family to die?”

  “I don’t recall. I’m sure we have the newspaper. Our archives are quite extensive.” Annie noted pride in the librarian’s voice. “I can also find books on poisoning or other nonobvious causes of death.”

  “That would be most helpful.”

  Once they secured the books, the librarian led Annie to a secluded desk in a corner, lit up with a rainbow of green, yellow, blue, and red from the stained-glass window above. She handed Annie a pencil and small notebook.

  Annie unfolded the newspaper dated April 12, 1866, around the time of the end of the Civil War. A headline on the front page caught her eye.

  “Missing Confederate Gold Thought to Have Been Found.”

  A stash of gold, stolen from a Confederate treasury in Atlanta, Georgia, reportedly had been found. Annie peered closer at the illustration depicting burlap sacks rumpled with folds and bumps. The story reported the find a hoax, the burlap sacks filled with lumps of coal.

  Annie reached into her bag and pulled out her coin purse. She studied the gold coin, trying to make out the marks on the front and back, but the scratches on the surface were etched too deep. The article didn’t mention coins; the gold could be in many other forms—ingots, bars, bricks.

  A quick look at the large clock reminded Annie that she’d best stick to her investigation. She plunked the coin back into her coin purse and focused on the newspaper.

  She turned page after page, searching for the story of the unfortunate family. Finally, she found it on page thirteen. As the librarian stated, the Matson family, a husband, wife, and three children, had been found dead in their beds one morning—no apparent illness, no injuries, and no foul play detected. The coroner reported the family died of natural causes. All five of them? Annie scratched her temple and jotted their names in the notebook.

  She flipped through the books the librarian had given her about toxic plants and substances but couldn’t find anything that might explain what happened to Kimi. It seemed that most poisons caused foaming of the mouth, vomiting, or other physical signs of ingestion. Kimi had displayed none of those effects—she’d still looked beautiful and calm, as if she’d died in her sleep. Annie still wanted to know about the bruises on her back and who had beaten Kimi, even though the coroner claimed it had nothing to do with her death.

  Frustrated, Annie slammed the book shut, a little too loudly, judging by the sour expression on the face of a gentleman seated at a nearby table. He scowled again at her before turning his attention back to his paper.

  Annie glanced at the clock. She’d have just enough time to go back to the Four Corners Building to meet the Chief.

  Back at camp, Annie put on her costume and immediately rushed to the stables to see Buck. He stood in the middle of the pen, munching on a large stack of hay.

  “Is he doing any better?” Frank came up behind her and leaned his elbows on the railing next to hers. He smelled of leather and cinnamon, and she couldn’t help noticing the attractive way his hair curled around his ears and over his collar.

  “He’s up and eating, which is a good sign.” She forced her gaze back to Buck. Looking at Frank often unsettled her, setting her off balance, and she needed her mind clear and focused.

  “LeFleur and the Colonel want us to perform without the horses today. Buck is almost as popular as you are, and they feel the audience will be disappointed if Fancy is there but Buck isn’t.”

  “I see. I’m sorry, Frank.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You and Buck make a great team. People sense your connection with him. It’s partly why the act is such a success. You’re both natural stars.” Frank lowered his elbows from the railing and turned his body to face her, resting his thumbs in the waist of his leather pants.

  Annie quickly glanced at Frank’s face, afraid that meeting those blue eyes head-on would make her mind go blank.

  “So it’s the cigarette trick.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay.”

  “You and Lillian will do the shooting in that one.”

  “But the crowd will be expecting—”

  Frank held up his hand, stopping her.

  “I’ve talked it over with LeFleur. Splitting cards is my specialty.”

  Damaged pride simmered under the surface of his face, pulling the light out of his eyes. He lowered his gaze to the ground and kicked at the grass.

  One of the cowboys emerged from the barn, holding his watch in his hand.

  “Almost showtime.”

  Frank flashed Annie his rehearsed smile.

  “You heard the man. Let’s go.”

  In the paddock area, outside of the arena where they waited to go on, they saw Bobby working with Isham—the Colonel’s favorite horse, a white Arabian with a long gray mane and tail—filing one of Isham’s hooves. Fully absorbed in his task, Bobby crouched low, his back bent over the horse’s hoof resting between his knees.

  “The Colonel performing today?” Frank asked.

  Bobby looked up at him. “Naw. Just wants to watch on horseback.”

  Come to think of it, Annie rarely saw the Colonel off his horse, unless he was in the mess tent or meeting with the crew and staff indoors.

  “Something wrong with his feet?” Annie moved closer to inspect the hoof.

  Bobby dropped the file to put both hands on the hoof, cradling it, checking the heel, then the toe, making sure the edges were clean and to t
he shape he desired.

  “Just long in the toe. The Colonel said he’d been stumbling a bit.”

  Something on the file glinted in the sunlight. Annie picked it up and examined it. She couldn’t be sure but thought the substance in the file, mixed with horse hoof, looked like gold. The image of the coin popped into her mind, the inscriptions on both sides filed down to a scratched and marred blur. She ran her finger along the protruding ridges.

  “Miss Oakley?” Bobby held out his hand.

  “Oh, sorry. Here you go.” Annie deposited the file in Bobby’s outstretched hand. He bent his head and continued filing.

  “That’s a sharp file. Is it new?” Annie asked.

  Bobby didn’t look up. “Dunno. Seems like it’s new. Got it in the barn. Mr. Post has a few hanging around.”

  Annie knew that most cowboys carried their own files and farrier tools with them. She remembered what her father used to say. “Horse don’t have good feet, you don’t have a good horse.” From the sound of it, this file didn’t belong to Bobby. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it, like he was using it now.

  What would Bobby be doing with a gold coin? The Colonel always paid them in bills. And how had did the coin get on her floor, next to her trunk? If the coin belonged to Bobby, it made sense that it ended up in her tent. He often went there to visit Kimi. Had he gone there one last time—to send Kimi on her way to the afterlife?

  For the performance, LeFleur dictated that they should enter the arena in the Deadwood stagecoach, surrounded by a dozen marauding Indians on horseback shooting blunt-pointed arrows. Lillie and Annie played damsels in distress, while Frank burst out of the coach and single-handedly shot all of their attackers. Once all the Indians had sufficiently and dramatically fallen off their horses and rolled to the ground, Frank redirected the audience’s focus on himself as he jumped to the driver’s seat of the coach and drove the team of six to the other side of the arena. Lillie and Annie emerged from the coach, firing their guns into the air.

  The crowd loved it.