Unbridled Dreams

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Belle arched one eyebrow and looked up at him. “I’ll have you know I’m not ‘just anyone,’ cowboy.”

  He smiled down at her. “Well, you’re right about that, ma’am, and I do stand corrected.”

  Feeling herself begin to blush, Belle changed the subject, pointing to the ferry landing. “There’s more people than in the whole of North Platte just right there at the landing.”

  Helen Keen shook her head. “I am gonna be more than ready to skedaddle straight to the train station and head for my wide-open spaces when this season is over and done.”

  Belle began to get nervous. “One thing’s certain. I’m grateful for good old Diamond and his steady temperament today.”

  Helen patted Diamond’s neck. “He’s a good old boy. And you’ll do fine. Just follow Dora and me, and don’t try anything too flashy right away.”

  The ferry landed. Leading Diamond, Belle followed the other cowgirls ashore. Diamond’s ears came forward. He began to dance around a bit. “It’s all right,” Belle said quietly. She put a hand on the horse’s neck. “Just a waterfront. Different smells, I know. Not like back home. But see there up ahead? You know those other horses. And there’s Helen . . . and Dora . . . and grouchy old Mabel . . . and it’s just another parade. Noisier than Washington, but still just a parade. We’ll be fine.” Whether she was talking to herself or the horse didn’t really matter. Diamond calmed down a little and she began to feel better, too.

  Helen led the way to where the troupe was forming a long line just outside the ferry station. Belle mounted up. Diamond flicked his silken tail and tossed his head as he danced into place.

  “I think he likes it,” Belle laughed as the old pony began to show more spirit than she’d ever seen.

  “Of course he does, honey,” Helen said. “The boys always like to strut their stuff.” She nodded up ahead. “Look at the Shepherd. He’s having the time of his life.”

  It was true. Shep hadn’t even mounted up yet. Instead, he’d walked to where a group of New Yorkers—of the feminine variety— lined the curb. He was signing autographs and smiling and nodding, and if it hadn’t been for Nate Salsbury’s piercing whistle, Belle thought Shep might have just been swallowed up by the mass of ladies struggling to talk to him. When he tipped his hat and leaped into the saddle without using his stirrups, the ladies squealed with delight. Shep backed his palomino away from the curb and guided him into place just behind Buffalo Bill and alongside Annie Oakley and Lillian Smith. Cody stood up in his stirrups and, raising his arm like an army scout giving orders to a column of soldiers, motioned for everyone to move out. The band began to play, and off they went.

  As the parade took shape, cowboys, vaqueros, and Indians fell in behind the Wild West stars, and Belle lost sight of Shep. Ma Clemmons’s husband, Grady, followed the Indians, leading a pair of tame buffalo. Next came the Deadwood mail coach and mounted riders playing the part of the pony express charging up and down either side of the procession brandishing pistols as their ponies’ hoofs clattered on the brick streets.

  Finally, it was the women’s turn to ride. Belle hadn’t gone three city blocks before her face began to hurt from smiling and her shoulders to ache from waving.

  “I can’t feel my face anymore,” Belle said at one point.

  “The price of fame, honey,” Helen replied without even looking over. She signaled her horse to rear up, and the crowd applauded and whistled. Diamond tossed his head and swished his tail. Helen laughed. “Go ahead,” she said to Belle. “Give it a whirl. Just remember we’re going to be doing this for about twice as long as we did in D.C., so pace yourself. And the horse.”

  In the next block Belle and Diamond put on the show. Then Mabel and Dora followed suit. Belle slipped behind her saddle and lay prone across Diamond’s back. The reaction was so enthusiastic that Mabel and Dora began to show a few of their tricks, too. At one point, Belle took her feet out of the stirrups, turned around and, riding backward, bent her knees and positioned her feet atop Diamond’s rump. Leaning back, she hoped she was giving the impression of a lady in repose. Apparently she was, because the crowd loved it. On impulse, she took her kerchief off and, waving it in the air, looked back at Dora. When Dora nodded, Belle tossed the kerchief. Dora caught it, then tossed it to Mabel. But Mabel didn’t even try to toss it back. Instead, she twirled it in the air and then threw it down. Belle spun Diamond around and swooped down and picked the kerchief up off the pavement. Again, the crowd roared approval.

  By the time the Wild West parade made the turn that would take them back down the length of Manhattan Island to the ferry landing, the four riders had repeated every trick over and over again. Muscles hurt that Belle didn’t even know she had. She was exhausted, and she had never felt better in her life.

  CHAPTER 18

  A TIME TO EMBRACE,

  AND A TIME TO SHUN EMBRACING.

  Ecclesiastes 3:5 NASB

  June 28, 1886

  Dear Minnie,

  We have fifty acres here on Staten Island. FIFTY! There’s an amphitheatre that was built especially for us. General Sherman himself was here for opening day. Mr. Mark Twain has been several times, and P. T. Barnum—who has foresworn any show but his own for forty years—came to ours, and had only words of praise.

  It seems that some exciting bit of news makes the rounds here every single day. Bill Cody has hired a famous stage director to plan the indoor production opening at Madison Square Garden in November. I hope Liberty Belle is given a part. Monte tells me that cast members for that production will stay in rooming houses in the city. The Indians, however, will stay in camp here on Staten Island. Can you picture the Pawnee and Sioux, in full regalia, riding the Staten Island ferry every day and then making their way across Manhattan and up to the Garden for each performance?

  Seventeen steamboats a day bring people out to see the Wild West. I haven’t personally counted them, of course, but that’s what the newspaper says. I am enclosing clippings from the New York Times and the Brooklyn Eagle. Please make sure that Momma and Daddy see them. I forgot to put the clippings in their letter.

  Tomorrow Shep and Helen, Monte and Dora and I are determined to go into the city. We invited Mabel Douglas, but she said she had other plans. I believe she has given up on Shep and may be working on Ned Bishop. Sunday Joe has been harping on forgiveness again, and this past Sunday he particularly stressed the necessity for the Christian to “bless those who curse them.” Perhaps Mabel and Ned are God’s way of seeing if I was listening.

  In spite of not being universally loved by every single person in the troupe, at times I am so happy I could cry. Now that we are in a more permanent setting, I will be able to return to the practice ring with Diamond. If only Momma could see how the people of New York welcomed us, I know she would change her mind about what I am doing. I intend to write and try to get Daddy to bring her to New York.

  Monte seems to be quite fond of a certain beautiful ranchera. Helen Keen is fast becoming my very good friend, and Shep Sterling proves in many ways the truth spoken in his gift of white roses. Please give my love to Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laura.

  Ever your affectionate cousin,

  Liberty Belle

  Belle signed the letter with a flourish, smiling as she contemplated Minnie’s reaction to the coded message about Shep Sterling and white roses. He might not have kissed her again, but it was uncanny how often he seemed to just turn up when Belle crossed the lot. If he was looking out for her, she didn’t mind. And for a girl who’d scolded Minnie for not having a more worthy goal than simply getting married, Belle realized her own daydreams these days skirted dangerously close to similar themes, albeit with barbed wire and horses in place of picket fences and babies. Of course any of that would have to wait until she’d spent several years as Liberty Belle. Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

  Folding her letter, Belle tucked it into an envelope and ducked out of her tent. After delivering it to the office for posting, she heade
d for the wardrobe tent, where she expected Ma Clemmons to put her to work. Halfway there she saw Shep smiling down at a young boy dressed in plaid wool knickers. There was nothing uncommon about an awestruck boy staring in openmouthed wonder at the King of the Cowboys. But there was nothing common about the woman holding the boy’s hand. She was stunningly beautiful, with abundant blond hair, a radiant smile, and the bluest eyes Belle had ever seen.

  “Worried?” Mabel Douglas, seated at a sewing machine a few feet away, glanced toward Shep and then back at Belle with a mean little smile.

  Belle ignored the comment. “I was looking for Ma. To see what she needs me to do today.”

  Mabel smirked. She nodded toward where Shep was still talking to the woman and the boy. “He seems to be enjoying himself,” she said.

  “Where’s Ma?” Belle repeated.

  “Gone into the city. Meeting someone about the winter production.” The last thing Belle wanted to do was sit in this tent all afternoon without Ma—or someone else—to run interference between herself and Mabel Douglas. “Then I’m going over to the stables to longe Diamond. I’m thinking he’s probably sore from all those miles on city streets yesterday. If Ma comes back, could you tell her I’ll come back later and plan to work through tonight’s performance?”

  “I’m not your messenger girl,” Mabel said. “And besides, I won’t be here long. Unlike some people, I’ve got two performances today.”

  Belle found paper and a pencil and scribbled a note for Ma Clemmons. She left the dressing tent and picked her way behind some of the other tents so as to avoid seeing Shep—in case he was still talking to that gorgeous woman. Minutes later she was standing beside one of the newly erected corrals where Blaze and a couple of the other broncs had been turned out for exercise. But she couldn’t get her mind off Shep.

  “Mabel said you’d be over here,” Shep said, and sidled up next to Belle as she stood by the corral. “I had someone I wanted you to meet.”

  “Mabel told you where to find me?” Of course she did. It was Shep asking. Mabel would turn a somersault for Shep.

  “Why wouldn’t she? You and Mabel have a falling out?”

  “That woman has had a burr under her saddle about me ever since I joined up. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Try to be patient with Mabel,” Shep said. “Life hasn’t been very good to her.”

  “Is that any reason for her to take it out on me? Believe me, if I knew what I’d done to rile her so, I’d ask forgiveness just to clear the air and hope life could be a little more pleasant for all of us. Problem is, I think it’s the fact that I breathe she resents most, and I’m just not willing to stop that to please Mabel.” Belle paused. “Who’d you want me to meet, anyway?”

  “Another time,” Shep said. He nodded at Blaze. “She’s looking fit as a fiddle.”

  “I wish I had money. I’d buy her like that.” Belle snapped her fingers. “It just kills me to see them using her this way.”

  “Cy doesn’t think she has the temperament for the arena.”

  “I know,” Belle said, “and I understand his reasoning. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I still say she’d never have thrown that fit if Ned had listened to me and used a lighter hand. I told him to stop sawing on her mouth.” Just then Blaze reared up and pawed the air. Belle sighed. “Can’t you just see her decked out in a show saddle?”

  “Diamond’s gonna get his feelings hurt if he hears you talking like that,” Shep teased.

  “I love Diamond,” Belle protested. “It’s not his fault that he’s the apple pie while Blaze is the French pastry.” She sighed. “Not that I’ll need a French pastry anytime soon.”

  “Liberty Belle has a very bright future,” Shep said. “She just needs to be patient.”

  “That’s very sweet of you to say, but with all due respect, I don’t think you really know that to be a fact.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I sort of keep my eye on you.”

  “You have to,” Belle teased. “It’s your job, remember?”

  “Now that hurts,” Shep said, and put his hand on his heart and staggered back. “Give a girl roses and kiss her good-bye and she thinks it means nothing.”

  “Come on,” Belle said. “I never would have heard from you again if I hadn’t gotten hired.”

  “Do you really think that?”

  She shrugged.

  “I’ll take that for a yes. Although I don’t understand it.”

  “Forget it,” Belle said. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just explain your line of reasoning.”

  Why had she brought it up? This was embarrassing. “I didn’t hear from you.” She shrugged again. “I mean you kissed me and then—”

  “I kissed you and yelled at myself about it all the way to St. Louis,” Shep said. “I was raised better than that. A gentleman shows respect for a lady by following the rules. Sneaking around like that was wrong.”

  “Rules?” Belle snorted. “I joined the Wild West to get away from rules.”

  “Don’t ever run away from the rules created to protect you. I was wrong to kiss you that day. I knew your mother didn’t approve of me.”

  “Well, if you need my momma’s permission, you’re off the hook completely, because even if she were talking to me—which she is not—she’d never give permission for you to so much as take me to dinner.”

  Shep grinned. “Ah, but you’re not living under her roof anymore. So I don’t figure I need her permission. But I do have every intention of winning her approval.”

  “You wanted to kiss me, and you did, but it was wrong. And now you don’t need anyone’s permission, but you’re going for Momma’s approval.” Belle shook her head. “This game has too many rules. And they keep changing. I can’t keep up.”

  He leaned close. “Allow me to clarify the situation for you, Miss Belle.” He brushed his lips across her cheek and whispered in her ear, “This is no game . . . and I’m not playing.” He walked away.

  Belle folded her arms atop the corral fence and hid her face while she waited to catch her breath.

  On Sunday after church, Helen and Monte, Dora and Belle and Shep flocked onto the Staten Island Ferry and headed for the city. As the ferry nosed its way into the bay, Helen nudged Shep. “I know you’re dying to do it. So,” she motioned, “let’s hear it.”

  When the rest of the group began to badger him, Shep stood up and, taking his hat off, began a speech. “To the northeast, we have the New York and Brooklyn Bridge, spanning one of the busiest stretches of navigable salt water on the earth, first proposed as a way to prevent overcrowding in Manhattan by encouraging population growth in Brooklyn.” He motioned toward the bridge. “The towers rise to the incredible height of 276 feet. Each of its four steel cables is fifteen inches in diameter. The foundations were constructed over a period of three years and an additional four years were required for the completion of the towers. The cost of the bridge? Fifteen million dollars—twice the original estimate. Pedestrians may enjoy the view from the walkway for the paltry sum of three pennies.” Putting his hat back atop his head, Shep took a bow. Applause and hoots and catcalls erupted. Shep took a second bow, then settled next to Belle.

  At the wharf, he took her hand as he led the way toward the new bridge. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be walking hand-in-hand with him, and yet Belle could feel herself blushing as Shep paid the toll and led her onto the bridge. “You’ll love this story,” he said as they headed out across the water. “The chief engineer’s wife had studied many of the topics related to civil engineering—with the idea that she could help her husband. A few years into the project, her husband was disabled by caisson disease.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It happens sometimes when the workers are deep in the earth digging the foundations. Something to do with the depth. It isn’t understood very well, but it killed some of them. Roebling didn’t die, but he was partially paralyze
d, deaf, and dumb. Mrs. Roebling began to make daily trips in his place, and she did such a good job communicating with the contractors—and she knew so much about bridge building—that some of them actually thought she was the chief engineer. When the bridge finally opened, Mrs. Roebling was given the first ride across.”

  “For a cowboy, you certainly know a lot about the New York and Brooklyn Bridge,” Belle said. She smiled up at him. “I’m thinking maybe you know all that because you were here when it happened.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I was. You aren’t the only rich kid to hightail it for parts unknown.”

  “How did your mother react?”

  “She was fine with it. In fact, you’ll likely meet her one of these days. She’s out of the city right now, but she’ll definitely come over when she gets back.” He sighed. “In my case it was my father who protested long and loud.”

  “Is it any better now?”

  “He passed away last year. But we had some good moments together before he died. He never understood me, but I never doubted that he loved me.” He smiled. “I also have two sisters. One who won’t have a thing to do with what she calls Shep’s Folly, and the other who seems to think it’s all right. She was actually on the grounds the other day. Her name’s Marie. She has an eight-year-old son who really builds up my ego.”

  “The blonde with the boy dressed in plaid knickers?”

  “So you did see them.”

  Belle nodded. “From the wardrobe tent. Mabel teased me about her. Said I should be worried.”

  “And were you?”

  “A little,” Belle admitted. “All right. More than a little. Your sister is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” She shrugged. “I actually skirted behind some tents to avoid you two. I thought—” She could feel herself turning red. “Never mind what I thought.”