Girl with a Gun Page 12

  In that moment, nothing else mattered but her melding into him and his fusing with her. She had never before felt so complete.

  Buck nudged Annie and Frank with his nose, breaking them apart.

  “Someone’s jealous.” Frank patted the horse’s neck.

  Annie laughed and ran her fingers through Buck’s tousled mane.

  “He’s used to having all my attention.” Her voice faded, a catch forming in her throat. “The Colonel is thinking about replacing Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without him, and what would happen to him.”

  “Has he gotten any better?”

  “His energy is high some days and really low on others. I’m hoping to ride him in the act tomorrow. Mr. Post said he’s been eating a little better, and drinking enormous amounts of water—”

  Annie noticed a flash of bright colors and saw Twila—wearing a long, multi-colored skirt, looking more like a gypsy that a witch — rushing out of the barn, marching steadfastly away from them. Had she seen Annie and Frank kissing?

  “What’s she doing in the barn?”

  Frank shrugged. “Who knows? She sticks her nose into everything concerning the show.”

  To defuse her emotions, Annie played with Buck’s black mane, sectioning shanks of hair to plait them.

  “How long have you known Twila?” She hoped her voice sounded lighthearted, not suspicious—or jealous.

  “For a while now. We knew each other before the Wild West Show.”

  “Can I ask you a question about her?”

  Frank nodded, smiled.

  “Is she really a snake charmer?”

  “So, you’ve met Hank.” He threw his head back with a laugh.

  “He’s a beastly thing.”

  “Indeed he is. Why are you asking about me and Twila?”

  “I just wondered if you’d once been . . . you know.” Annie concentrated harder on braiding Buck’s mane.

  “Ah, I see. You’ve been hearing gossip about us. That was before she and the Colonel became an item.”

  “Well, did you love her?” Annie couldn’t imagine him loving such a manipulative woman, but then again, she’d seen him flirting with Lillie more than once—though not since he’d invited Annie to dinner, which seemed so long ago now.

  Frank shrugged again. “It never turned that serious. She wasn’t for me.”

  “Was it the snake, her odd clothing, or her witchy ways?”

  Frank laughed. “You don’t think much of her, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to make of her. I know she doesn’t like me, and she was downright cruel to Kimi. Mr. LeFleur told me that the Colonel fathered Winona, but do you think Twila was capable of hating Kimi enough to beat her . . . or to purposefully harm her?” Annie looked into Frank’s eyes to gauge his response.

  “Whoa,” Frank took a step back. “How did we get there? What are you talking about?”

  “I told you about the bruises on Kimi’s back. Even you said Twila was always mean to her.”

  “Twila has a temper, that’s for sure, but I’ve never seen her raise a hand to anyone. I understand your concerns, but are you implying that Twila might have—”

  “Maybe. I don’t want to sound unkind, but why does a healthy young girl just drop dead? One day she’s fine, and the next she’s found dead on the floor.”

  “I surely hope you are wrong.” Frank let out a lungful of breath.

  Relieved to share her fears, and relieved that Frank hadn’t made her feel foolish for them, she reached up and cupped his whiskered cheek in her hand. He did the same, running his thumb from her temple to her chin, pulling her face closer to his.

  “I’m here for you, Annie,” he said. “I’ve lost my heart to you. We’ll find a way to set things right. All of it.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Wild West Show’s Ticket Sales Plummet. Annie Oakley Accused of Attempted Murder.”

  St. Louis Times – April 18, 1885

  The next day, the attendance numbers proved dismal—only five thousand tickets had been sold for the morning show and four thousand for the afternoon show. The numbers had been three times that on other days—before the article about Annie surfaced. To make matters worse, Buck, too weak to perform, lay listless in his outdoor pen, breaking Annie’s heart.

  The Colonel instructed Rusty Post to get Isham ready for the next performance. He also told his publicity man to contact all the local newspapers and let them know that Buffalo Bill would saddle up and perform in the show, once again.

  Annie stood in the wings of the arena by herself, watching as the people flooded into the great stadium, making a thundering noise like a herd of buffalo. The air all around Annie vibrated with excitement. Excitement strung on a thin thread of gloom.

  She spotted Frank, on his noble Fancy, in conversation with the Colonel on his stallion, likely going over the details of the act; a reenactment of a buffalo stampede with the Sioux fighting against the famous Buffalo Bill and his troop for control of the herd. The act had been a standby in the past, and the Colonel could probably do it backwards and blindfolded.

  A commotion erupted behind her, and she turned to see LeFleur and Bobby arguing. From the looks of it, LeFleur tried to calm the boy, but to no avail.

  Annie remembered Bobby being upset with himself for his anger at Kimi—stating he didn’t deserve Annie’s pity. Could it have been an admission of guilt? At the time she didn’t believe that he could be capable of violence, although the look on his face now made her think twice. Annie imagined his balled up fists striking Kimi’s back, or him accidentally smothering her with a pillow in a fit of rage. It didn’t seem possible. And what about the matter of the coin and the gold flecks in the file? Annie couldn’t wait to get him alone to question him further.

  Their voices grew louder. LeFleur pointed a finger in the boy’s face and seemed to be admonishing him or warning him against something. Bobby returned the gesture with an expression so full of loathing, his eyes like glowing coals, that Annie gasped. When Bobby turned heel and stalked off, LeFleur cast a furtive glance around him, as if afraid someone had witnessed the scene. Annie spun around so he wouldn’t know she had seen them arguing.

  The Colonel and Frank approached the gates where Annie stood, preparing to go in. The Colonel tipped his hat to her, and Frank gave her an astounding smile—a smile reserved for her alone, not the smile he used for the thousands waiting for him to perform. The tingling sensation returned, making her feel giddy.

  In moments, several mounted cowboys guided the herd of buffalo toward the gates. Whoops, whistles, and the cowboys’ long, swirling ropes kept the herd in check. Dust formed in thick, billowing clouds, breaking the magical spell and making Annie cough. She thought about moving to another vantage point but didn’t want to lose sight of Frank, his performance always a pleasure to watch.

  When the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium introducing the show, two of the crew opened the gates wide, and the cowboys ushered the thundering stampede of buffalo into the arena. The crowd got to their feet, whooping and hollering. Within seconds, the Sioux warriors mounted bareback on their ponies, their faces brightly painted and their chests shirtless, rumbled through the gates with the ferocity of an angry waterfall. They carried long spears decorated with straps of leather adorned with feathers and seashells.

  Nakota and Michante came in toward the back, looking proud and fierce. Frank and the other cowboys entered the arena, causing a new set of thunderous applause to fill the stadium.

  The Colonel, bedecked in powder-blue buckskin, readied himself for his entrance. Large silver Conchos donned his sleeves and leggings, and his saddle, with finely polished silver accents along the skirt, at the stirrups, and along the cantle, gleamed in the sunshine. Isham pranced in excitement, but the Colonel held him in check until they entered the arena at top speed, Isham galloping full bore ahead. The crowd’s cheers resounded in response as the battle re-creation began.

  Once the gates closed, Annie
could no longer see the action, but she could see and hear the cheering audience. She could tell what happened behind the closed gates as she watched the crowd, their faces changing with each unfolding. So immersed was she in the spectacle, she jumped when LeFleur suddenly appeared next to her, his face glowing red and sweat trickling down his sideburns.

  “We don’t have a full house today,” Annie said.

  “Nope. Sure don’t.”

  “Do you think it’s because of the story?”

  LeFleur took off his hat and swiped at his sweaty forehead with his right hand, which was stained with something black, like . . . gunpowder. She’d never seen LeFleur carry a gun, much less shoot one.

  “It could be anything. We’ve been here for a couple of weeks. Interest usually wanes after a while. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

  “When do I go on?” Annie asked.

  “After the intermission. We’ll have you, Lillie, and Frank work the mirror, the hurdle and birds, and the cigarette trick. I’ve got to hand it to Lillie—the people sure do love that trick.”

  Annie hated to admit it, but had to agree.

  “Everything all right with Bobby?” she asked.

  LeFleur fidgeted with his hat and then placed it back onto his head. “He’s in a snit about something. Nothing to worry about.” He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked side to side, resting his weight first on one foot and then the other. “You just get prepared for your act.” He turned abruptly, leaving a wave of anxiety in his wake.

  Annie lingered, worried about LeFleur’s odd behavior, but also hoping to speak with Frank for a moment. As she moved away from the gates to intercept Frank, she saw Twila standing near the paddock area, behind one of the cattle chutes—talking to Vernon McCrimmon.

  A rush of weakness seized Annie’s knees. What were they doing together?

  Annie fought an urge to rush over and confront them head-on. Instead, she tried to read their lips to see if she could figure out their words. She couldn’t make much out except Twila’s flinging arms, directive in their movement, suggesting that she wanted McCrimmon to do something. But what?

  Startling her, the herd of buffalo, cowboys, and Indians stampeded past Annie, dragging a storm of dust clouds that blocked her view. By the time the dust cleared and Annie could see again, Twila and McCrimmon had vanished, as if Annie had blinked them away.

  Annie headed straight to the Colonel’s tent and found Twila inside, feeding the baby. She had Winona propped up in the pram and spoon-fed her something from a container that read “Nestlé’s Milk Food.”

  “What are you doing here?” Twila’s perfectly arched brows pressed down toward her aquiline nose. “Don’t you go on soon?”

  “Soon, yes, but we need to have a conversation about that man you were just talking to at the arena.”

  “What man?”

  “I saw you talking to Vernon McCrimmon. Chews tobacco. Smells like a whiskey still.”

  Twila lifted the spoon to the baby’s mouth, her face expressionless. Winona flailed her fists in the air with delight.

  “People ask me questions. Where do I buy tickets? Can I meet Buffalo Bill? Is it really true about Annie Oakley nearly murdering her lover?”

  “How dare you!” Annie moved closer to Twila, ready to throttle her. “I bet you’re the one who fed the reporter that rubbish, knowing it wasn’t true. Maybe you and Vernon McCrimmon teamed up on that.

  Maybe it’s been you trying to do me in from the start.”

  “Stay away from Frank Butler.” Twila’s words came out low and menacing. Annie squared her shoulders.

  “You’ve got no say about what I do or don’t do with Frank Butler. He told me it’s over between you two and has been for a very long time.”

  Twila calmly laid down the baby’s spoon, but when she turned back to Annie, her face bore an expression that darkened the room.

  “Look, you little two-bit runt from nowhere. You may be the show’s biggest star right now, but we created you, and we own you. If you’re as smart as you want everyone to think you are, you’ll stick to being a sharpshooter and making that big money to take care of the family that depends on you.”

  Annie bit back her rage at Twila’s insolence.

  “If you’re helping McCrimmon take my horse, or harm him in any way, I’ll make sure the Colonel knows about your interference.”

  “Don’t cross me, ‘Little Miss Sureshot,’ or you’ll regret it.”

  Startled by the volcano of tension the two had built in the room, Winona began to fuss, but Twila seemed unmoved. Her venomous stare didn’t waver, making Annie almost certain that this mean-spirited, jealous woman would be capable of poisoning Buck—and murdering her rival, Kimi.

  “Showtime,” Twila said, waving a hand to shoo her away.

  “Leave Buck alone, let him recover.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with that beast, but I’ve given him my best herbs.”

  Winona’s wails grew louder. Annie wanted to rush to her but knew doing so would create more animosity. Instead, she left the tent, an odd mixture of certainty and uneasiness settling into her bones.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Buck the Wonder Horse Ails from Mysterious Sickness. Annie Oakley Performs without Her Beloved Sidekick.”

  Missouri Chronicle – April 18, 1885

  Annie, Lillie, Frank, and this time Bobby all entered the arena hanging off the Deadwood stagecoach. Frank drove the team of six, and Annie and Lillie stood in the coach, their upper bodies leaning out through the windows. Bobby stood on the rear boot in the back. They all fired their pistols in the air as the stagecoach circled the arena at top speed.

  When Frank brought the horses to a halt, Annie, Lillie, and Bobby hopped off the coach and waved to the audience. Frank pumped his fists in the air, egging on the spectators, while crewmembers hauled out the table, targets, and weapons. Annie took the first stage with the mirror trick. She finished quickly, turning her attention to the audience with her eager show smile and endearing wave, but she earned little applause. She and Frank exchanged glances, both stunned.

  Spontaneously, one of the crewmen came out of the wings with a honey-colored, long-eared hound and a stool. The crewman set the stool down about thirty paces from Annie and motioned for her to pick up her rifle. He then cued the dog to jump on top of the three-legged stool and sit. Annie dragged her rifle off the table, not sure what he wanted her to do.

  The crewman pulled an apple from his pocket and placed it on the dog’s head.

  Annie smiled. Pure genius.

  Annie took aim and splintered the apple into a pulpy mess. The spectators roared with approval as the dog leapt off the stool and ran to Annie. Standing on his hind legs, he lifted up, resting his paws on Annie’s shoulders, and gave her a sloppy, face-licking kiss. Relief swept through her when she heard laughing, cheers, and shouts from the crowd. She’d have to remember to thank the crewman for such a brilliant idea.

  Next up, Lillie, sober for once, hopped over the hedge prop without effort and downed all six pigeons in a flash. Frank picked up two pistols from the table and meandered toward the hedge, flashing his dazzling smile for the crowd. When the buzzer sounded, he leapt over the hedge, graceful as a jaguar—

  And missed. All six pigeons.

  Stunned silence filled the arena. Annie’s heart sank. He’d never missed all the targets before.

  “Quick,” Bobby said to Annie and Lillie, “stand me on my head and let me take a crack at those glass jars.”

  He ran to the table, tossed a rifle to Annie, and moved into a headstand. Annie handed back the rifle, and, now turned upside down, Bobby blasted ten glass jars in rapid succession. The audience thundered their appreciation.

  Annie and Lillie moved seamlessly into the card trick. First, Annie shot the card out of Lillie’s hand, and then Lillie held the card for Frank.

  Annie watched his face as he raised the pistol and steadied his aim, taking longer than usual, his sudden lack of
confidence making him hesitate.

  He split the card in two. Everyone, especially Annie, sighed with relief.

  Lillie lit a cigarette, ran a few yards away and mugged for Annie to shoot it out of her mouth. Annie shot clean through the glowing ash. Lillie faked that she’d been shot and fell to the ground. The spectators gasped, then laughed when she leapt up, ran over to Annie, and pretended to strangle her. Laughing, Lillie then wrapped her arms around Annie in a bear hug. Annie felt a surge of affection—but only for a second, as she was skeptical of Lillie’s sincerity.

  Finally, their act complete, they all took their places on the stagecoach. Frank, driving the team once again, offered his radiant smile to the crowd, but Annie could see the humiliation in his eyes.

  When the gates opened to release them from the arena, the Colonel and LeFleur stood waiting for Frank. Annie wanted to say something reassuring to him before he faced them, but what could she say? She glanced at Lillie, whose smile displayed a sympathy Annie had not seen on the girl’s face before. They all knew Frank’s career might be in jeopardy, and they all hated to see a fellow sharpshooter, one larger than life—a legend in his field—go down.

  Bobby jumped off the back of the coach and rushed over to shake Frank’s hand. Frank received it in silence and then jumped down from the seat. LeFleur, his arms crossed over his chest, and the Colonel, sucking on a fat cigar, watched Frank stroll past them, gave each other a knowing look and followed him away from the crowd.

  Still stunned by Frank’s degradation, Annie, Lillie, and Bobby made their way to the public area to greet the spectators as they filtered out of the stadium. Men, women, and children rushed over to them, asking for autographs.

  A flaxen-haired, pink-faced girl handed Annie a straggly bouquet of wildflowers.

  “She admires you so much,” the girl’s mother said, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.