Girl with a Gun Page 14

  Frank pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. While she blew her nose and wiped her face, he gathered up the rest of her clothing, her stockings, her corset, and her boots. He gently led her to the bed and sat her down, placing all her things next to her.

  She had just stuck her big toe into her stocking when light from the tent flap flooded the room.

  “Frank, the Colonel wants to see—”

  It was LeFleur.

  “See you . . .” His voice faded as his eyes widened to see Annie sitting on the bed.

  A lump the size of a tin can filled Annie’s throat.

  “What in God’s name—?” LeFleur lunged toward Frank, ready to grab him by the throat. Frank ducked below LeFleur’s arms and skirted past him.

  “Derence, get a hold of yourself. What’s wrong with you, man?” LeFleur wound up to deliver a blow to Frank’s face. Annie jumped from the bed and grabbed him.

  “Stop!”

  “How could you?” LeFleur’s eyes cut through her.

  Annie took him by both arms and squared him in front of her. “I know what this looks like, Mr. LeFleur. I am so sorry.”

  “Looks like? You mean to tell me it’s something else?”

  Annie shook her head, the blood draining from her face. She liked and admired Mr. LeFleur. He’d been her champion from the beginning and disappointing him in any way left her hollow. She couldn’t bear the disgust written in his face.

  He shook free from her grasp and turned to Frank.

  “The Colonel wants to see you. About the abysmal performance you gave earlier today.” He turned back to Annie. “And the police would like a word with you. They are in the mess tent.” The words came out slow, calm. Without looking at either one of them, he strode out of the tent.

  Annie raised her hands to her face, the tears threatening to flow again, but she was too mortified to cry. She wanted to crawl under the bed and never come out.

  Frank reached out for her and pulled her to him again.

  “How could anything be worse than this?” she whispered into his chest.

  Light from the tent flap illuminated the dark interior once again, but this time it wasn’t LeFleur. Twila stood in the light, holding the tent flap aside. Her eyes narrowed at the two of them, and her mouth screwed up in a smirk. She whirled around, her skirts slapping against the chair at the entrance, and she stomped out, the bells on her boots jangling.

  “This isn’t going to be good,” Frank said.

  After they had dressed, Annie and Frank sat in silence, Annie at Frank’s desk and Frank on the mussed bed.

  “You know we’re going to have to face the Colonel and LeFleur soon. Or, at least I am.” Frank had both hands resting on his knees.

  “I don’t think they’ll let you go.”

  “The Colonel is a perfectionist, and I have fallen far short of perfection for some time. He’s run out of patience with me.”

  Annie stood and walked toward the bed.

  “I’d put in a good word for you, but I don’t think my opinion is going to count for much. There’s been nothing but trouble since I joined the show.”

  Frank stood up too and reached for her, smoothing her tangled hair.

  “You have been nothing but a godsend to this show . . . to everyone, but especially to me. Being who we are, Annie Oakley and Frank Butler, everything we say and do is examined and judged. I don’t think you were quite prepared for what being famous entails.”

  “I wasn’t. And I don’t know how I’d face all this without you. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “If they fire me, you could come with me.”

  Annie met his eyes. “Come with you, where?”

  “Back to Kentucky. I need to make amends with my family. I’ve been running from them for far too long.”

  Annie ran her hand up his arm. “I have a family to support. My mother’s—Joshua—quandered almost all the money I’ve sent home. My mother is ill, and my brother and sister are too young to carry such a burden. I should go home and take care of matters there. What good is sending money to them if they never receive it?”

  “But you signed a contract, right?”

  “Yes, for one year.”

  “You shouldn’t break the contract.”

  “What about you? If you signed a contract, they can’t fire you, right?”

  “It expired a month ago. They haven’t pushed for a new one, possibly because they wanted to see if I could shake off this slump. I’m only here because the Colonel likes me.”

  Annie stiffened. “You mean you’re only here because Twila likes you.”

  “Yeah, her too,” he said with a chuckle.

  Annie balled up a fist and playfully punched him in the ribs.

  “Ouch!” Frank wrapped his arms around her and held her in a quiet embrace. Annie felt comfortable in his arms, like they were a perfect fit for her body, a warm, securing blanket of safety and protection from the world.

  “If they don’t fire you, will you stay on?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

  “I’ll stay . . . for you.”

  Annie smiled, nuzzled into his chest.

  “We’ll just have to change some things in the act. I’ll have to astound the audience with my amazing horsemanship. Maybe I’ll take up roping buffalo. It works for the Colonel.”

  Annie pulled back and looked him square in the eyes.

  “You are the best marksman in the world, Frank Butler. You’ll get it back. I know it.” She laid her head on Frank’s chest, her ear next to his heart.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

  Annie left Frank’s tent and tried to muster her courage to face everyone in the mess tent. The smoke from a campfire lingered in the air and she turned to see Chief Sitting Bull, cross-legged on the ground in front of his tipi, stoking the flames. A flutter of hope arose—if anyone could advise her on this impending disaster, it would be the Chief.

  “Watanya Cecilia!” The Chief raised his hand in welcome and then gestured for her to join him.

  Annie sat down with him, pulling her skirt up over her knees and crossing her legs. She held her hands to the fire, welcoming its warmth.

  “What brings my daughter to visit me?”

  Annie searched his weathered face, grateful for his consistent kindness towards her.

  “I’m troubled, Chief Sitting Bull.”

  “Is it the matter of Kimi’s death? Did you find your answers?” “I haven’t yet found anything conclusive. I have other problems right now.”

  “Tell me what troubles you, child.”

  Annie took a deep breath and told him about Joshua stealing the money she’d been sending home, her mother’s illness, Vernon McCrimmon’s threats, Buck’s continuing ailment, Twila’s threatening resentment, and her feelings for Frank.

  Once she stopped talking, the Chief picked up a pipe and took a draw from it, enveloping them in fragrant smoke, as if it would form the cloud of protection she needed.

  “Think hard, Watanya Cecilia.” He blew out another puff of smoke. “Do you love Frank Butler?”

  Annie nodded.

  “And he loves you?”

  “Yes.” A blush crept up her cheeks.

  “A love such as this is sacred.”

  “Mr. LeFleur and Twila just discovered us together. I’m worried about our reputations, particularly mine, and neither of them is happy about our being together.”

  “Then you must stand firm. Your love is not wrong.”

  “Frank thinks the Colonel might fire him after his performance today. Now my relationship with Frank may make things worse. Twila hates me, and she may convince the Colonel to fire me as well.”

  Chief Sitting Bull drew in and released another stream of sweet-smelling smoke. Annie fumbled with the hem of her skirt.

  “The Colonel’s mistress has darkness inside. You must be wary of her.”

  “Yes, I agree. That’s why I need your help. I don’t wish to burden you, but I wondered if
you could say something to the Colonel to convince him to keep Frank on as part of the show.”

  Chief Sitting Bull tamped the residue out of his pipe.

  “I will speak with the Colonel, Watanya Cecilia. He is a wise man. He has weathered many storms. This is but a small one. He has had to rise up against many foes, including his past business associates.”

  “You know about the murder of Mr. Carver?”

  Chief Sitting Bull nodded.

  Annie wanted to ask him more questions, to solicit his advice on her quest for answers about Kimi’s death, but she’d just remembered that the sheriff and his detective were waiting for her.

  “May I come to you again?” she asked.

  “Yes, my daughter, you are most welcome at any time.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Dick Carver, Former Partner of Buffalo Bill Cody, Shot Dead in Stands of Wild West Performance.

  Wild West Show under Investigation.”

  St. Louis Times, Evening Edition – April 18, 1885

  Annie entered the mess tent to see two men seated at separate tables, interviewing crew members one at a time, recording notes on small pads of paper. Her eyes drifted immediately to Twila, who rolled Winona’s pram back and forth in what looked like a half-hearted attempt to comfort the fussing baby. LeFleur stood in the corner in conversation with the Colonel. The woman who had been sitting next to Carver at the ill-fated incident sat quietly on a stool, her handkerchief pressed to her face suppressing tears.

  Before Annie could take it all in, a young woman wearing burgundy moiré taffeta trousers that ballooned out at the thigh approached her, notepad and pencil in hand.

  “Miss Oakley, I’m Emma Wilson, a reporter for the St. Louis Times.” The woman beamed, her dimples receding into her creamy white cheeks.

  Miss Wilson’s demeanor and expensive-looking attire exuded an air of well-to-do confidence. Her wool coat’s collar and cuffs, adorned with colorful, intricate embroidered designs, reminded Annie of Kimi’s fine needlework.

  “Are you the reporter who wrote those horrible lies about me that were printed in your paper?” Annie looked directly into Miss Wilson’s sage-colored eyes.

  The smile on Miss Wilson’s lips softened.

  “No, Miss Oakley, but I wouldn’t worry about that story. Fame breeds sensationalism. Sarah Bernhardt, Lillie Langtry, and even the great Susan B. Anthony always have salacious stories published about them which we know aren’t true. Reporters have a tendency to embellish, make their stories a little more exciting. It sells more papers.”

  “But Miss Wilson, are you the type of reporter who embellishes stories to sell more newspapers?”

  “I most certainly am not,” Miss Wilson’s said, her eyes widening, “I assure you. I’d just like to ask you a few questions—about the shooting.”

  “Very well. I don’t wish to be quoted, though.”

  “I can make you an anonymous witness. Now, about this business with Mr. Carver. Did you know him?”

  Annie shook her head. “No. I only learned about him when the Colonel thought Carver might have been behind the story about me, that he might have sought to discredit or harm the Colonel and the show.”

  Miss Wilson glanced around, making sure no one might overhear her.

  “Well, I’m here to tell you, he didn’t.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know. Honest. Cross my heart. Hope to die.” She ran her finger above her left breast, creating an invisible cross. “Do you know any details about this bad blood between Carver and the Colonel?”

  “Only that they had been business partners once, and that it didn’t end well.”

  “And what about Bobby Bradley? What can you tell me about him? I understand he was one of the first people to discover Mr. Carver.”

  “What about Bobby?”

  “I overheard Colonel Cody tell the police that he’s disappeared.”

  “Bobby disappeared? If that’s true, I have no knowledge of it.” Annie thought the statement odd. Why would Bobby disappear? Unless he feared the police. Unless he had something to hide. Annie’s mind flashed back to Bobby’s argument with Kimi, his hateful expression when quarreling with Mr. LeFleur.

  “Well, from the looks of it,” Miss Wilson nodded towards the detectives, “this will be a huge case, widely reported in the newspapers—locally and across the country. Colonel Cody apparently called in his friends at the Theil Detective agency to assist in the investigation. This is usually Pinkerton territory, but Theil and Colonel Cody were soldiers together in the Civil War.”

  “That’s wise of the Colonel, given his relationship with Mr. Carver, but I’m certain the Colonel is innocent.”

  Miss Wilson scribbled something on her pad, and then gently took Annie’s arm, leading her to a more private location.

  “Listen, Miss Oakley. May I call you Annie?”

  “Of course you may.”

  “I admire you, Annie. With your sweet face, you look like a prim little girl in those sparkly cowgirl outfits, but you are fierce—you are making a difference in the world of women, inspiring women to be stronger, to let the world know that women can be mighty without losing their femininity. Have you thought about joining the suffragette movement?”

  “Well, no, I haven’t.”

  “I understand that the Colonel pays you the same wage he pays Frank Butler.”

  Annie raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know that, but didn’t really care.

  “I make a decent wage, and I am grateful.”

  Miss Wilson grinned. “Positively charming. You are simply adorable, Annie. I’m here to cover the story of Carver’s murder, and I will, of course, but I have another agenda—one that you can help me fulfill.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you game?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Wilson. I have plenty of things to worry about at the moment, and I doubt that I could be of much help to you.”

  “What if I told you I could get the story about you retracted? Perhaps even get the editor to issue a formal apology in the newspaper?”

  “I would appreciate a retraction, but it depends on what would you want me to do.”

  Miss Wilson’s eyes widened beneath her large brimmed hat.

  “Join the crusade for women’s rights, share your knowledge of guns and shooting with other women, teach them to defend themselves. Whether you know it or not, Annie, you have become a powerful national sensation. Use that power to inspire and uplift the so-called ‘fairer’ sex.”

  Annie smiled at the possibilities. She could empower women, cultivate their independence, ensure that girls and women would not have to be dependent on others for their livelihood—even their very lives, like her poor mother.

  “You say you can get that story retracted, and a formal apology published?”

  “I promise you that I can, and we’ll make sure it’s printed in newspapers all over the country.”

  Annie felt a rush of excitement. She would have an opportunity to help other women—people like her sister, her mother, and Winona.

  “Then I will join your crusade, Miss Wilson.” She held out her hand.

  “Emma, please call me Emma, now that we’re going to be sisters in the fight for women’s rights.” Emma took her hand, squeezed it.

  “Emma it is then. But I need some time to tend to pressing matters first.” Annie saw the Colonel wave his arm to get her attention.

  “Of course. You won’t regret it, Annie. I’ll leave you to your business, but remember to look for that retraction and apology in tomorrow’s issue of the Times.”

  The Colonel, his skin glowing pink with distress under his perfectly trimmed beard, gestured for Annie to sit down at the table with one of the detectives. He looked on the verge of a temper tantrum.

  The young man, whose suit hung on him like a flour sack, stood up and greeted Annie, his bespectacled, intelligent eyes appraising her.

  “Miss Oakley, I’m Detective Jonas. Please have a seat.”

 
Annie sat, and Detective Jonas asked her a myriad of questions that she couldn’t possibly answer about the deceased, Dick Carver. She explained that she and Bobby heard the woman scream, went up into the grandstand to see what had happened, and found Carver’s body slumped next to the woman.

  “That was the extent of it,” Annie said.

  “Do you know where we might find Bobby?” Detective Jonas asked.

  Annie shook her head, still unable to comprehend why he would have fled.

  “He must be around here somewhere. Perhaps the barn?”

  “Thank you, Miss Oakley. That will be all for now.” He jotted something down on his notepad.

  Annie thought about getting up, but then thought again.

  “Detective Jonas—” Annie debated whether or not to bring up something that could be disagreeable, but after her conversation with Emma she felt courageous and obligated to do right by her friend. “A few weeks ago, an Indian girl who worked for the show passed away, and I was wondering if you had heard about this, and if you had investigated her death?”

  “No. Haven’t heard anything about this.” Detective Jonas furrowed his brows.

  “So you haven’t heard anything about a girl named Kimi?”

  Before Detective Jonas could reply, LeFleur, who had been standing nearby, rushed over.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing, and I must reassure you that the coroner investigated and determined Kimi died from natural causes. Miss Oakley remains upset, as they were friends, but the matter has been put to rest, and there is nothing to be gained by bringing it up again.”

  “Well, if the matter was properly addressed, I see no reason to be concerned about it. But thank you for your time, Miss Oakley, and please be aware that we may want to ask you additional questions later.”

  Annie rose to leave, and LeFleur gripped her arm, escorting her quickly out of the tent.

  Once they were alone, where no one could see them, he pulled her close.

  “Don’t ever bring up Kimi to the police again. Doing so risks everything the Colonel has worked to build. It can’t get out that he fathered Winona.”