Girl with a Gun Read online

  Annie turned her head away, not really wanting to know more about their escapades last night.

  “Well, let’s just say I might have agreed just to get her to shut up about it. Believe me, I would never aim a gun anywhere near that beautiful face of yours.”

  Annie felt a flush creep up her neck and Buck started to dance, feeling her discomfort. She fiddled with Buck’s reins, trying to feign indifference at Frank’s infuriatingly charming stare.

  “Say, Miss Oakley.” Frank rested an arm on top of his saddle horn. “Let’s get our practice session in, and then why don’t you join me for a late dinner?”

  Annie sucked in a breath, not sure how to respond. Early on, the man made it clear he didn’t like her sharing his limelight, and now he asked her to dinner? Would it be appropriate? She knew he was a good ten years older than she. But did that matter? She couldn’t deny that she found him attractive—everyone did—but why did he also make her feel like she wanted to jump out of her skin? She patted Buck’s neck, trying to calm him, acting like that was her major concern.

  “Where?”

  “My tent.”

  “I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr. Butler.”

  “Very well, how about a restaurant downtown?”

  “I can barely hear myself think in a restaurant.”

  He smiled. “The mess tent it is, table for two.” He pulled one of his guns out of the holster, fired it into the sky, and took off, Fancy’s feet flicking clouds of dust into the air.

  Annie’s amusement at Frank’s behavior dwindled as soon as Lillie showed up for practice—drunk. Lord only knew where her bullets would fly.

  The crew had set up a line of several metal targets for one stage of shooting, and an assortment of glass jars set upon different objects of varying heights for another stage. They also brought out a table for the card trick stage.

  Lillie stood nearby, flirting with the cowboys and crew. When Frank walked up to the group, Lillie’s light-hearted laughter accelerated to something brash and obnoxious. Annie took in a deep breath to steel herself for whatever lay ahead.

  “Say, handsome,” Lillie said, swinging her hips as she walked toward Frank. “Watch this.”

  She chose a rifle from one of the tables, and then picked up a hand mirror. Standing thirty paces away from the metal targets, she turned her back, set her rifle on her shoulder, used the mirror to aim at the target, and fired off shots. Her first two shots hit, then she missed one, hit two others, and missed the last.

  Frank rested his thumb and forefinger on his chin, as if deep in thought.

  “Interesting. I’d like to give that a try.”

  Annie bristled at the eagerness in his voice. What was it about Lillie that lured men like moths to a flame?

  Frank followed Lillie’s lead and hit all the targets. They both turned to look at Annie. “Have at it, Miss Oakley,” Frank said, that dazzling grin on his face.

  Annie swiped the mirror out of Frank’s hand. She didn’t want to play their game, but she didn’t like the idea of being bested by either one of them.

  She set up with her back to the targets and hit each one. Child’s play.

  “Very nice, Miss Oakley, but let’s up the ante,” Lillie said, sneering at Annie. “Let’s do the cigarette trick.”

  “No can do, Lillie,” said Frank, “you’re drunk. It’s too dangerous.”

  Lillie stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and draped herself on his arm and shoulder.

  “Well, since you’re so worried about ‘Little Miss Sure Shot’ over there, why don’t you let her shoot the cigarette out of your mouth?”

  “I can guarantee she wouldn’t miss.” Frank winked at Annie.

  Annie smiled. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Frank Butler had grown to appreciate her talent.

  “Course she wouldn’t. She’s Annie Oakley.” The words came deep from Lillie’s throat. She flung her arm in the air with a sloppy wave and then pointed to the group of Indian players as they rode in on their ponies to start target practice, bows and arrow in hand. “We could always use one of them Indian scum as a target.”

  “Watch your mouth, Lillie,” Annie said. “We all work together, as a team. No one wants to hear your nasty comments.”

  Lillie smirked. “They’re cheap labor is all.”

  “We’re done here for the day.” Frank unwrapped Lillie from his shoulders. “You need to go sleep it off, Lillie. And if you show up drunk at one of the performances, you’re out.”

  “You’re threatening me?” She staggered away, walking backwards.

  “I am. It’s too dangerous to mix whiskey with our act. Don’t think I won’t go to LeFleur, or the Colonel.”

  Lillie gave Frank a seductive grin and turned toward the cowboys.

  “Come on fellas, drinks are on me.”

  “Exactly why was she hired?” Annie asked.

  “She’s Twila’s family.” Frank spit into the dirt. “Not by blood, but she’s like a daughter to her.”

  “But why would the Colonel want someone like that in the show?” Annie snapped her rifle back into its ready state.

  Frank ran his fingers through his blond mane, staring off into the distance after Lillie and the cowboys.

  “I don’t reckon he does, but Twila usually gets her way.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Buffalo Bill Spotted in Local Saloon with Former Business Partner Dick Carver. Conversation Ends When Carver Draws Pistol, Is Escorted from Establishment.”

  Missouri Chronicle – April 13, 1885

  Following practice, Annie settled Buck in the barn and took her time wandering back to her tent. A faint breeze rustled the sun-kissed grasses, and Annie enjoyed the warm spring air—despite her trepidation that she had a dinner date with the legendary Frank Butler. What would the Quaker Friends in North Star have to say about that?

  Twila and the Colonel emerged from their tent and headed in the direction of the mess tent as Annie approached the camp. Where was the baby?

  Twila’s aggressive fervor to get her hands on Winona worried Annie. Twila might want to harm that sweet baby, jealous of the fact that she had been brought into the world by Kimi and the Colonel.

  To avoid them, Annie stopped and leaned over to pick a long blade of grass, running her fingers along its smoothness. Once they were out of sight, Annie scanned the area near the tents. A few people hung around their campfires, cleaning tack, tending to their costumes, or engaged in quiet conversation. She scurried toward the Colonel’s tent and managed to slip inside unseen. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made her way to the baby’s pram. Empty.

  Annie spun around, wondering where the baby could be, or if she could find anything that might prove that Twila wasn’t taking good care of the baby—or that she had beaten, and possibly even murdered, Kimi.

  Various herbs and plants, tied with twine, hung from the ceiling, and a mortar and pestle sat on a small table. Just as Annie was about to reach out and touch the pestle, light engulfed the tent and disappeared again as the flap closed. Annie sucked in her breath and whirled around.

  “Who’s there?” The voice was stern. Male.

  “It’s me, Annie.”

  As the figure moved closer in the dimness, Annie recognized LeFleur and let out a breath of relief. But still, how would she explain her nosing around in the Colonel’s tent?

  “What are you doing in here, Annie?”

  Annie bit her bottom lip, thinking fast.

  “I saw them leave without the baby, and I just wanted to have a look at her. I’ve been worried about her. It was foolish—”

  “Stop talking,” LeFleur held up a hand. “Do not ever come in the Colonel’s tent without asking permission.”

  “I didn’t mean any harm. I’m just concerned about the child and—” “You have no business in the Colonel’s tent.”

  “And you do?” Annie cocked her head. She realized instantly her presumption in asking the question of her boss and superi
or. She couldn’t see him very well, but his tension filled the room.

  “I would hate to have to write you up for insubordination, Annie.”

  His voice lowered, emphasizing the seriousness of the threat.

  “It’s just that I’m not sure Twila is the appropriate caretaker for Winona.”

  They stepped outside into the glow of sunset. The sky had deepened to crimson red, and a welcoming breeze brushed across their faces. LeFleur’s expression softened slightly, masking his impatient smile.

  “Annie, you are new here. You don’t know Twila or the Colonel. You didn’t even know Kimi well. How can you possibly know if Twila is an appropriate guardian for the baby or not? And truthfully, it’s not your business. You are an employee of the show. You’d best keep your mind on your performance.”

  Annie crossed her arms over her chest. She had so much more to say, but decided it could wait.

  “I don’t mean to be so harsh, Annie, but you need to focus on your job, being the best sharpshooter in the show, not on the rest of the company. I get paid to worry about everything and everyone else. If you lose your focus you may not be able to keep sending your family money.”

  Another threat. This one could have serious consequences. She raised her eyes to his and nodded.

  Yes, she had trespassed, but only because things didn’t feel right. Just like it didn’t with Vernon McCrimmon, but, in that case, she’d waited too long to do anything about it and Buck suffered. She didn’t want anyone else suffering because she didn’t act on her instincts. Wasn’t it her duty to help others, to “hold them in the light”, as her mother always said? People could be devious. Someone likely murdered Kimi, and even if her curiosity and determination to find the truth jeopardized her livelihood, Annie knew she wouldn’t stop probing—not until she identified the culprit.

  To prepare for her dinner with Frank, Annie asked a crewmember to bring a copper bathtub and buckets of hot water to her tent. While she waited for the hot water to arrive, she collected wild flowers and a few sprigs of lavender in the glow of approaching darkness.

  Back home, a cold splash in the creek took care of the necessity to be clean. Now, she was about to luxuriate in hot water, bathing like a manor-born lady. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of her mother having to make her way to the icy water spring a few times a week. How Annie would love to be able to provide her mother with a proper home, one with good heat, good solid bones, and a copper bathtub. But for now, keeping a roof—no matter how dilapidated—over her family’s heads seemed hard enough.

  Once the tub had been filled, Annie sank in up to her neck in the deliciously fragrant, warm water when she heard a man’s voice outside the tent.

  “Miss Oakley. You have mail. I’m going to leave it under a rock right here, just outside your door.”

  Unable to resist the sensation of her muscles melting in relaxation, Annie lingered awhile longer in the tub. When she got out, she reached for a dressing gown from the trunk LeFleur had brought to her tent shortly after she arrived. The gown’s sleeves hung several inches past her hands. Probably one of Twila’s castoffs. Annie winced at the thought but knew she should be grateful, as she had arrived with only her mother’s wedding dress, her buckskins, a blouse, a nightdress, her Bible—and little else.

  Annie lit another candle. The letter from her mother revealed that Joshua had quit drinking and secured work at the blacksmith’s forge. He claimed to have turned his life around and wanted to make good on his promise to marry Susan. Her mother reported feeling relieved, and her words denoted a more positive attitude in general. The money Annie sent provided good food and new boots for both children.

  Annie folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Her mother made no mention of making a payment to the bank but had probably been so excited about Joshua’s employment that she’d forgotten to mention it. Annie said a silent prayer that Joshua would be true to his word this time, but in her heart she knew that if they married, she’d be hearing again about more family troubles. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t let Joshua squander the money he made, or that she sent home.

  Annie chose the most modest dress in the trunk, a burgundy velvet dress with a high-necked collar and black lace cuffs. She brushed and braided her hair, then piling it all on her head, secured it with a tortoiseshell comb. Looking in the mirror, she noted her skin looked a bit sallow. Ignoring her mother’s voice in her head, she pinched her cheeks to make them pinker.

  In the mess tent, Frank sat by himself. A candle in a glass jar on the table glowed, lighting his face, and a bouquet of spring flowers cheered the Spartan atmosphere. Annie wanted to laugh at the formality he’d attempted but was afraid she might hurt his feelings—or his pride. He’d gone to great lengths for this dinner date, and she needed to be appreciative. She though it rather sweet.

  Frank stood up, removed his silk hat, smoothed his mass of wavy blond hair, and held his hands out to her. Annie placed her hands in his. Their comforting warmth seeped up her arms, and the tingling feeling returned. Their eyes met, and Annie wondered if Frank felt the same kinship she felt developing between them. He released her hands and pulled a chair out for her.

  “You look beautiful.” He settled his chair close to hers.

  “Thank you.”

  “I have to apologize to you.” Frank picked one of the daisies out of the vase and handed it to her. “I’ve been a little testy with you since you’ve joined the show. I’m not used to someone outshining me in a performance, but the truth is, I’m not shooting as well as I used to.”

  Annie tilted her head, impressed that his ego allowed him to admit defeat.

  “I thank you for your apology, but you are overrating my abilities and underrating yours. I thought you shot fine today. You never missed, even when you were shooting backwards.”

  “Today was fine. It comes and goes. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I’m not as steady as I once was.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” She twirled the stem of the daisy between her fingers.

  “It disappoints the crowds when I’m off my game, and the Colonel is getting impatient with me. They love you, for obvious reasons, but old Bill may decide to edge me out.”

  “There wouldn’t be much of a Wild West Show without you,” she said, alarmed at his words. “Have you spoken to Mr. LeFleur about this?”

  “I haven’t spoken to anyone—but you—about it.” Frank’s eyes softened.

  “But why me?”

  “I want you to back me when Lillie comes up with her hair-brained ideas, like a burning cigarette in someone’s mouth as a target. She knows my aim isn’t what it used to be. I can’t risk shooting you, or anyone else . . . but especially you.” His smiled faded.

  Annie sympathized with Frank’s predicament. It took a lot for a man like him, a legend, to admit his recent inaccuracy with the targets.

  “Well, then, if it makes you uncomfortable, we just won’t do it.” Annie wanted to ease his mind.

  “But Lillie’s got some sort of pull with Twila, and she may convince the Colonel to go with it.”

  An older gentleman appeared at the table, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “This is not a restaurant, but I’m doing Mr. Butler a favor.” He offered a warm smile to Annie. “What would the lady like to drink?”

  “Champagne,” Frank said. “We’ll have a bottle of champagne. I’m sure you can rustle some up, somewhere, back there.” He pointed to the kitchen.

  “I’ll have tea, thank you.”

  “You don’t drink?” Frank raised his eyebrows.

  “No, I don’t. Is that a problem?”

  “Not by me.”

  Annie glanced toward the kitchen and noticed Twila hovering over one of the stoves. Where was the baby?

  To her relief Annie heard Winona gurgling—babbling in the contented way babies do. The pram must be somewhere near, perhaps behind the large row of cabinets in the center of the kitchen.

&
nbsp; Seconds later, LeFleur appeared at their table.

  “Hello, folks.” He picked up a chair from another table and set it down next to Annie. His eyes roamed over Annie’s dress and her upswept hair.

  “Are you two conducting some sort of private meeting?”

  “We’re just trying to have a pleasant dinner,” Frank said, not hiding his displeasure at LeFleur’s appearance.

  “Don’t mind if I have a drink, do you?” LeFleur took off his hat, set it on the table, and winked at Annie. She hoped it was a sign of forgiveness for sneaking into the Colonel’s tent. “How’s the act coming along?”

  “Aside from some of Lillie’s crazy ideas, fine,” Frank said.

  “Horse doing okay?” LeFleur focused on Annie, ignoring Frank.

  Annie shrugged. “It’s taking Buck a while to adjust.”

  Buck still had no appetite and still hated going into the barn. Annie worried that his condition would cause an inability to perform and ultimately lead to her losing her spot in the show.

  The older man entered with the tea and champagne.

  “You’re going to have to bring another glass,” LeFleur said.

  The “waiter” rolled his eyes and left again.

  Frank drummed his fingers on the table, his patience growing thin, but LeFleur failed to notice—or noticed and didn’t care.

  “I’m sure Buck will be just fine,” LeFleur said, assurance in his voice. “Now what’s this about shooting a cigarette out of each other’s mouths?”

  Annie let out a snort, then covered her mouth, afraid her opinions would get her in trouble again.

  “I was not in favor of Lillie joining the show.” LeFleur’s eyes locked on Annie’s. “The Colonel and I went round and round about it, but, ultimately, it’s his show.”

  “She’s not even that good of a shot,” Frank said.

  “She’s not bad,” LeFleur countered. “Annie’s been such a hit, the Colonel argued that it was a good idea to bring in another female sharpshooter to set up a competition between them.”