Unbridled Dreams

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  But Daddy motioned for them both to linger with him and Mr. Salsbury. Miss Keen departed for the Wild West grounds with Annie Oakley and her husband, and when the last guest had left the dining room, Mr. Salsbury spoke up. “While we may not have been formally introduced until tonight, Miss Friedrich, in many ways I feel as though I know you. My partner speaks fondly of your camping with his daughter years ago. He says you were already quite a cowgirl back then. I’ve also heard about your summers on the Mason ranch.”

  Minnie chimed in. “Irma worked right alongside my pa and the other wranglers. She can rope and bulldog with the best of ’em.”

  Salsbury nodded. “And your father tells me you were planning to audition for the Wild West a few weeks ago, but that an injury prevented it.”

  “I’ve wanted to be with the Wild West ever since my Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laura took me to see the very first performance in Omaha.”

  Salsbury nodded. “Your father says you’ve put together an act. He seems to think it’s something that would enhance the experience for our audience.” He smiled. “We’d like to see it. I understand we have the horse you trained with. What do you say, Miss Friedrich? Would you and Diamond do us the honor, say, on Sunday afternoon?”

  Say something, you idiot. She could only nod.

  “She’s just surprised,” Minnie chimed in. “Dumbstruck would be the word, sir. Doesn’t happen very often. But she definitely wants to audition.”

  Salsbury glanced from Daddy to Irma and back again. He glanced down at his watch. “Good. Sunday, then?”

  “Sunday,” Irma croaked.

  Daddy clapped his hand on Mr. Salsbury’s shoulder. “Thank you, Nate. You won’t be sorry.”

  It was too much. A late supper, Shep’s being more interested in Helen Keen than in the girl he’d kissed less than two weeks ago, and an audition?! Irma’s head hurt, her heart pounded, and she thought she might just have to give up the late supper if she didn’t calm down or catch her breath or . . . something. She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. At first she did a little of both.

  Daddy grabbed her arm and guided her to a chair. “Breathe, Irmagard,” he said, putting his hand on her back. “Slow, even breaths.” He watched her face with concern, then smiled and finally chuckled. “I’m going to interpret all of this as joy,” he said.

  Irma nodded. Sucked in air. Glanced from Daddy to Minnie and back and then finally blurted out, “What about Momma? I promised I’d go to Brownell.”

  “If you’ll give me the room key,” Minnie said, “I’ll head upstairs and give you two some privacy.”

  “Thank you, dear.” As soon as Minnie was gone, Daddy said, “You must trust me when I say I’ve worked it out. I was feeling sad about how different things would be for you this summer out at the ranch with Monte and Diamond both gone. And then it dawned on me. The Wild West’s summer season concludes in August.” He smiled. “It’s perfect, really. You have a summer with the Wild West, and Momma still gets her Brownell graduate.”

  “It isn’t perfect,” Irma insisted. “Brownell notwithstanding, she’ll never forgive us for doing this behind her back.”

  “She’ll be upset,” Daddy agreed. “But eventually she’ll see I did the right thing.” He reached out and took both Irma’s hands in his. “I am so proud of you. Proud of your determination to be what you want to be—to let the rest of the world think what they will think and to forge ahead into new adventures. I understand that kind of drive because you got it from me.” He stared intently into her eyes. “I want you to have this, Irma. You must trust me to handle Momma.”

  How she wanted to believe him. But Momma wasn’t the only obstacle. “I don’t have the right clothes, Daddy. Without boots that fit, I won’t be able to do a thing, and I don’t think they sell work boots at any of those fancy stores on Broadway. Even if they do, I’m used to the saddle at home. I know just where to balance when I stand atop it and just where to grip when I’m doing a handstand.”

  “Surely you didn’t think I’d go to all the trouble to plan this and not consider the details.” Daddy stood up. “Come upstairs with me. I’ve a package for you.” He winked and took her arm. As they mounted the stairs he explained. “I drove out to the ranch before we left. Your Aunt Laura helped me pack boots and clothes, and I packed them with my things. As for the saddle, your Uncle Charlie brought it into town and shipped it to Monte here at the fairgrounds. I checked with Monte earlier. It arrived a couple of days ago.” At the top of the stairs he paused and put his hand on his heart. “In here, Irma, your mother and I both want the same thing. We want you to be happy and fulfilled.” He gave Irma a fierce hug. “Now, let’s get those clothes and get you to bed. It’s already Saturday by the clock. You have a lot of work to do today, besides attending two more performances. And we’ll want to rise early on Sunday and get over to the fairgrounds in time for church.”

  “Church?” Daddy rarely attended church in North Platte.

  “It’ll help your mother feel better about things if I can describe the Wild West church service to her. And tell her that you’ll be attending every Sunday while you’re gone.”

  By the time Irma had retrieved the package of riding gear and gone back to her room, Minnie was sound asleep. Snuggled beneath the luxurious comforters, Irma eventually convinced herself that what Daddy said about Momma was true. She would be angry. She would get over it. Eventually.

  CHAPTER 10

  BE KIND TO ONE ANOTHER, TENDER-HEARTED,

  FORGIVING EACH OTHER, JUST AS GOD IN CHRIST

  ALSO HAS FORGIVEN YOU.

  Ephesians 4:32 NASB

  From where she sat in the green chair by the hotel room window early Sunday morning, Irma focused on the mop of dark curls just visible in the bed across the room. She cleared her throat—just a little louder than usual. She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t sleep, and if Minnie would only wake up, maybe between the two of them they could solve some of the problems swirling around in Irma’s mind. Minnie stirred, then snuggled deeper beneath the peach-colored satin comforter and began to snore. With a sigh, Irma slid to the edge of the cushioned chair and pretended to hold Diamond’s reins. Closing her eyes, she mentally re-created her routine—for probably the hundredth time since giving up on sleep and climbing out of bed. When she visualized failure—again—she sighed and sank back into the chair.

  I can’t do it. It’s been too long. Diamond and I worked hard yesterday, but I still only landed that dismount one time. Daddy will be embarrassed. Bill Cody and Mr. Salsbury will think their time’s been wasted. Helen Keen will laugh out loud. And Shep— Who knew what Shep would do? She was thinking entirely too much about Shep Sterling. This has to stop. There were too many other things to worry about. “I can’t do this,” she murmured aloud. “I just can’t, and that’s that.”

  Minnie turned over. She tucked the comforter beneath her chin and said, “You can and you will.”

  “I’ve been sitting here going over and over it in my mind, and—” Irma got up and crossed to the washstand. Pouring cool water into the bowl, she scrubbed her face to keep from bursting into tears. As she turned to face Minnie she put her palm to her midsection. “I’ve never been this terrified in my life. I’ll fall. I’ll be the laughingstock of every single person in the Wild West.”

  “I hardly think every single person in the Wild West cares one way or the other about one more trick rider or one less,” Minnie said. “Most of them probably won’t even come to watch. Sunday’s the only day they have to themselves. It’s not like they haven’t seen female trick riders before. And you said it yourself yesterday after seeing two more performances: Except for the handkerchief trick, you can do everything those rancheras do—and then some.”

  “Well, I was being . . . snooty,” Irma said. “Did you hear what Miss Keen said about her riding sidesaddle?”

  “I was standing right there. And she’s right. Take away the saddle horn and a cowboy’s ability to grip with his legs
and most of ’em wouldn’t last five minutes in the arena.”

  Irma nodded. “Exactly. Miss Keen is a better rider than I’ll ever be.” She sighed. “Which leads me back to my initial point: I can’t do this.”

  “Stop saying that.” Minnie tossed her dark curls as she slid out of bed. “Because you’re going to try, even if I have to drag you bodily across town and tie you to the saddle.” She pulled her dress over her head and began to button the waist. “What time did Uncle Otto say he’d come for us? I’d like to have some breakfast before we leave.”

  “Breakfast?” Irma moaned. “How can you even think of breakfast? I still haven’t digested the seven courses from Friday night.” She undid her braid and began to brush her hair.

  “Do you think Mr. Cody and his stars have a party like that every night?” Minnie asked.

  “I don’t know about everyone, but I think Bill Cody might. Apparently one of the issues between Arta’s parents is her father’s penchant for socializing.”

  Minnie interrupted as she twisted her hair into a bun. “It’s good that we’re starting the Sabbath by going to church. Uncle Otto will be able to talk about that instead of midnight parties that might start more gossip when he gets back home.” Her hair finished, Minnie perched on the edge of the bed. “If you end up signing on with the Wild West, I’m going to miss you. You have no idea how I’ve relied on you over the years to be the one always getting in trouble so no one notices when I make a mistake.”

  Irma chuckled. “It won’t take you long to find a new scapegoat. I’d say Maggie has real potential for stepping right into my shoes.” She frowned into the mirror. “Look at this.” She pointed to her hair. “I’m shaking so hard from nerves I can’t even put my own hair up.”

  “Give me that,” Minnie said, and took the brush out of Irma’s hand. Motioning for her to sit down, Minnie started over. “We’ll do a braid. I’ll pin it up for church, and you can just let the braid down for your audition.”

  Irma peered in the mirror while Minnie worked. When she put in the last hairpin, Irma nodded. “Very nice. Even Momma would approve.”

  “Which brings me to the question that I’ve been thinking about while you were doing imaginary gymnastics over there in that chair.” Minnie handed Irma her brush. “What’s Aunt Willa going to say when she gets home and you aren’t there?”

  Irma got up and began to pack her things into a small carpetbag. “She’s going to be upset.”

  “I’d say that’s something of an understatement. You and I both know that when Uncle Otto talked her into letting him bring us to St. Louis, he didn’t say one word about an audition. In fact, I bet he had to promise he’d do no such thing just to keep her from throwing a fit about our coming at all.”

  Irma shrugged. Minnie still believed Momma had agreed to this outing. Opening the wardrobe door she reached for a white waist. “Daddy said I should trust him to handle things.” Taking the waist off the hanger she put it on, talking as she buttoned up. “He told me to write long letters about how wonderful everything is, and that by the time I get home for school in the fall, Momma will have realized Daddy was right to let me have my last summer as a cowgirl.”

  “Right,” Minnie said. “I’m sure that’s exactly what will happen.” She began to make up the bed. “Just about the same time Diamond sprouts wings and flies you into the arena for a performance.”

  “I have enough to be nervous about today without worrying about Momma,” Irma stuffed her audition clothes and boots into her carpetbag. “Daddy said I should trust him to handle things, and that’s what I’m going to do.” She inspected herself in the mirror. “How bad could it be?”

  Shep was in one of the canvas “barns” brushing down Diamond when Helen sauntered up.

  “Hey, cowboy,” she teased, “you keep brushing and pretty soon we’ll be able to use that gray coat as a mirror. What’s going on with you, anyway? Dora said you shoveled breakfast in and sprinted out of the dining tent like you were trying to catch a fast moving train.”

  Shep patted Diamond’s broad back. “Just sprucing him up a little.” When he ran his hand down a foreleg, Diamond picked up his foot. Hoof pick in hand, Shep bent to grasp the hoof, balanced it on his knee, and went to work.

  “You goin’ to church this morning?”

  Shep shook his head. “Thought I’d polish her saddle a little after I finish with Diamond. Monte pulled it out a while ago, and it’s real beat up. Stiff. Could use a good going over.”

  “You know,” Helen said, “a shiny saddle isn’t going to win your girl a spot.”

  “She’s not ‘my girl.’ ” Shep checked Diamond’s other feet. Helen wasn’t leaving. “You need something?”

  “No, but I think you might.”

  “What d’ya think I need?”

  “A listening ear,” Helen looked up at him. “Come on. Remember me? The sister you never had?” She punched him in the shoulder. “I know a lovesick cowboy when I see one, Shepherd. So tell me about it. You been writing her?”

  Shep shrugged as he reached for a body brush. “Nothing to write about.”

  Grabbing another brush, Helen began working the other side of the horse. “I know you may not remember this, but from time to time I’ve been known to have feminine emotions. So you can believe me when I tell you that two weeks can be a very long time to a girl. And if you ask me—which I realize you haven’t—that little gal was a mite standoffish on Friday. And I know that bothered you. So what I’m saying is, if you haven’t written her, that’s probably why.”

  “If I wrote Irma, her momma would have a fit.” While they worked, Shep told Helen about the incident with Blaze. “Mrs. Friedrich blamed me for that—which I can understand. And then . . .” He went on to relate his taking Irma flowers and arriving at the house just in time for a party—to which he wasn’t invited.

  “Well, you just charmed the socks right off the grand dame,” Helen teased. “What about Mr. Friedrich? What’s he think about his daughter’s feelings for you?” She held up one hand. “And don’t argue with me about that, because the little gal has feelings for you even if you are too obtuse to see the signs.”

  “If Irma said she wanted to fly to the moon, her daddy would try to build a set of wings.”

  “So Daddy would have given permission for you to write,” Helen said, nodding. “But you clearly didn’t ask. Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t want to make trouble for anyone by causing even more conflict between Irma’s parents.” He paused. “I can’t explain it. There’s just an undercurrent of . . . something between them. I’m not sure they get along all that well.”

  “You’ve never let parents stop you from flirting before,” Helen said. Understanding dawned on her face. “You’re serious about that little gal.”

  Shep traded the body brush for a mane comb. “She’s seriously young. And seriously spoiled.”

  “And seriously attracted to you,” Helen countered as she went back to brushing the horse down. “And beautiful. And apparently quite the talented horsewoman.”

  “She’s also willful and temperamental,” Shep said.

  Finishing with the brush, Helen walked to the box of grooming tools, took out a comb, and went to work on Diamond’s tangled tail. “What one person calls ‘willful’ and ‘temperamental’ can also be described as ‘determined’ and ‘passionate.’ Sometimes it’s all in the way you look at it.”

  “Maybe,” Shep said. “But even if that’s true, she’s still young and spoiled. And the only thing I know can fix that is time.” He and Helen worked for a while in silence. Finally, Shep said, “She wants to become Liberty Belle. She doesn’t need me complicating her life.”

  “That’s a great name, by the way,” Helen murmured. “I hope she can live up to it.”

  “So do I,” Shep agreed, “because it’ll break her heart if she can’t.”

  Helen ducked beneath Diamond’s neck and nudged Shep out of the way. “Get to work on that saddle, S
hepherd. I’ll take care of the mane and tail. Although it’s the most tangled mess I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Shep reached for the saddle and, settling on an empty crate nearby, opened a tin of saddle soap and went to work. If Helen was right and Irma was upset with him for not writing, he was going to have to explain himself. But how did a man tell a girl he was giving her time to live her dream before moving in to sweep her off her feet? And what if she refused to be swept? Maybe those stolen kisses didn’t mean anything. Maybe she’d only been playing the age-old game of cat and mouse, dancing the timeless dance of “boy meets girl, takes her flowers, steals a kiss.” Pondering that, Shep realized there was a problem with that scenario. He wasn’t playing a game.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so deserted,” Irma said, as Monte led them past the Wild West ticket wagon and onto the grounds.

  “Most of the performers are just now getting around to doing chores on the back lot,” Monte explained. “Today’s the one day we don’t all have to get up while it’s still dark.” Once they were past the arena, he began pointing to various tents and describing what was what. “That big tent over there is the dining hall. And next to that is the wardrobe tent, where everybody gets dressed before a performance. Those smaller tents are where the cowgirls bunk. Of course, once we start the road tour, we’ll all just live on the train until we get to Staten Island. Shep said that will be a more permanent camp.”

  As they walked past the Indian camp with its open campfires and cooking pots, Irma said, “I can see why the Wild West is the talk of St. Louis. How many have ever seen that? Goodness, I live in the West and I’ve never seen a real Indian camp until now.”

  “Well,” Monte said, “it’s not exactly the same. The tepees are canvas now, thanks to Buffalo Bill’s compatriots and their success at killing off the big herds.”