by Kari Bovee
“Of course not. I don’t go around talking to anyone about what you and I do together. I would never disrespect you, Annie.”
Annie jammed her arms across her chest.
Frank shook his head, exasperation etched on his face.
“I came by to tell you that LeFleur wants to see you. Lillie had no idea where you were, and I started to worry about you and wanted to hang around until you showed up. We talked about the act, nothing else.”
No matter what he said, Annie couldn’t soften her feelings—his betrayal had been too deep, her anger too paralyzing.
“Annie, why are you so upset at me?”
“Because lying comes so easily to you, because you can’t be trusted.”
“I don’t like being called a liar, Annie.” Frank gave her a pointed look.
“And I don’t like being lied to.” Annie turned her head away, unable to look into those eyes she loved so well. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. Outside of the show.”
Frank took her arm and she shook it off. He took it again and gently turned her around to face him. She tried to ignore the pained look in his eyes.
“Is that really what you want?”
“It is.”
Frank took his hat off and raked a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t lie to you, Annie, and I don’t know what this is about. All I know is that I love you, and I never loved Twila.”
Annie drew in a breath and exhaled slowly, but did not respond. She had clamped her jaw so tightly her cheek muscles began to cramp. Frank settled his hat back on his head and stood silently, gazing at her, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, turned and walked away.
Anger and hurt pulsed through Annie’s entire body. She sank to the ground, placed her hands around her knees, and rocked back and forth on her heels.
She’d been so foolish, so impetuous in climbing into Frank’s bed. She’d sacrificed her good name and morality for what turned out to be a roll in the hay—and Frank could say he loved her all day long, but if he loved her, he would never have succumbed to Twila’s seduction.
Annie thought about her father, who had always encouraged her to move forward despite life’s impediments. She had to stop thinking about Frank and Twila and focus on more important matters, like the murder and her family. She vowed she would never let her passions rule her heart, ever again.
CHAPTER 17
“Spring Heat Wave over Last Two Years Responsible for 100 Years Drought. Farms in Ohio and Missouri in Trouble.”
St. Louis Herald – April 20, 1885
The next morning, Annie found LeFleur emerging from the bathhouse. When he spotted her, he lifted his chin in greeting but avoided meeting her eyes. He had a drying rag in one hand and his shaving utensils in another.
“Mr. LeFleur, I need to speak with you urgently.”
He nodded to her and kept walking. Annie winced at the uneasy feeling in her stomach. She had to make him talk to her.
“You were right about Frank.” She scurried to catch up with him.
He stopped, his back to her, and then slowly turned around.
“I made a mistake, and I know that now. I’ve behaved shamefully, and I regret it. You were right about Frank being a scoundrel, that he didn’t care about me as much as I thought he did.”
LeFleur moved the drying rag onto his other arm, squinted into her eyes.
“You realize it’s because of you that that rake still has a place in the show.” “Chief Sitting Bull must have spoken to the Colonel.”
“He didn’t speak to the Colonel, he raged at the Colonel. No one rages at the Colonel, so the Colonel raged at me.”
“I am dreadfully sorry.”
“So you two had a falling out? I must say that I am not surprised.” He surveyed Annie with a cold eye. “Will this affect the act? Will you two be able to work together?”
Annie shrugged. She hadn’t even thought about that yet.
“I’ll do my best. I can’t speak for him.”
LeFleur grunted and headed toward his tent, obviously dismissing her. Annie trotted after him.
“Mr. LeFleur, I need to speak with you about my wages.”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“Your wages?”
“Yes, it’s not related to anything that has happened. It’s about my family, about my situation where they are concerned.”
“Follow me.” When they reached his tent, he abruptly turned and faced her. “Wait out here.”
Annie waited for him and a few moments later, he reappeared, fully dressed.
“What’s this about your wages? You don’t really think this is the time to negotiate a raise, do you?”
“No, no, nothing like that. My family is doing poorly, and I’d like to get my wages early so I can send them to my mother. She really needs the money—to feed my brother and sister.”
LeFleur held up his hand to silence her and then pulled a pencil and piece of paper out of his coat pocket.
“Write down where you’d like money sent, and I shall arrange to have it sent immediately.”
Annie wrote down Mr. Shaw’s address at the North Star Mercantile, in hopes he could give it directly to her mother, thereby denying Joshua the opportunity to drink it away.
“There is one more thing I’d like to ask.” She handed him the paper and pencil.
“Really, Miss Oakley?” His stern face displayed his impatience, but she soldiered on.
“Miss Emma Wilson has arranged to host a shooting exhibition, strictly for women, at a venue downtown, and she has specifically invited me to participate. Would this be permissible under my contract? I don’t want to do anything to betray your trust.”
LeFleur’s eyes fluttered in disbelief. Annie knew that at that moment, she had pushed his patience with her to the limit.
“I would like to help Miss Wilson, you know, give back to the community.”
“Well, it could be beneficial for the show.” He scowled at her—clearly, she’d have to work at restoring their friendship. “Spur some positive publicity—for a change. As long as it doesn’t conflict with any of your performances with us, I see no reason to refrain.”
“Wonderful, thank you.” She turned to leave, but he grasped his hand firmly around her arm, making her flinch.
“You didn’t speak with that reporter about Carver did you? The Colonel gave explicit instructions.”
“No, of course not.” Annie pulled her arm from his grasp. “I would not do so under any circumstances and explicitly told her so. Her interest in me is to pursue her women’s causes.”
LeFleur raised his hand in mock apology. “I see.”
“Thank you, again, for wiring my wages to Mr. Shaw.”
“Yes, of course.” LeFleur’s features softened. “Where were you all day?”
“I went to exercise and groom Buck.”
“We have men to do that.”
“Yes, but I love to be with Buck, and I thought maybe I could help him gain back his strength.”
“And did that work?”
Annie shook her head, afraid to admit the truth.
“He’s not quite strong enough to perform yet, but he will be.”
“People love to see you shoot, but they really love to see you perform with Buck.” LeFleur rubbed at his clean-shaven face. “It will be a shame if we have to find you another mount, but it’s coming to that now, isn’t it?”
“Please give us more time. I’m trying a new remedy.”
“A few more days,” he said, and turned his back on her.
Annie returned to her tent to freshen up and found Lillie passed out on her bed, drunk in the middle of the afternoon. Annie saw a pocket watch, probably left by one of Lillie’s cowboys, on their vanity and checked the time. They had thirty minutes to get to practice.
“Lillie, it’s time to get up. We have practice.”
Lillie snorted then coughed. “I need breakfast.” She rubbed a hand across
her belly.
“It’s 3:30 in the afternoon.”
“Then I need a drink.”
“What you need is a slap in the face, Lillie.”
Lillie sat upright, her mouth gaping.
“Well, I declare, Annie Oakley, I don’t think I’ve ever heard such harshness from you before! Why the change? Maybe you’re just as bad as the rest of us.”
Annie clenched her fists, amazed at Lillie’s audacity. She would not let it affect her.
“I am nothing like you, Lillie. You need to be on your best behavior for practice today. There is a lot of pressure riding on this show right now.”
Lillie stood up, then immediately grabbed the bedpost.
“Damn, the world’s spinning.”
“The world’s not spinning, you are. Try washing your face. That’ll wake you up.”
“You are in a mood, Miss Oakley. Does it have anything to do with a handsome cowboy name of Frank Butler?” Lillie staggered over to the porcelain ewer.
“Mind your own business, Lillie.”
“Tsk, tsk.”
While Lillie splashed noisily at the ewer, Annie dressed in a simple deerskin leather skirt she’d made and a pristine, high-collared white blouse. She slipped on her boots and spats. When Lillie finally moved away from the mirror, Annie took her place on the vanity stool and glanced at her reflection. The swelling around her eyes had lessened, but her braids hung limp and disheveled, much in need of rebraiding. She pulled out the leather strings holding them together and ran her fingers through the plaits to loosen them. She didn’t have the patience to braid it again, so brushed through her hair and plopped a brimmed hat, embellished with a silver star, onto her head.
“Well,” Lillie said, running her hand down the length of her worn and wrinkled velvet riding coat, “this is as good as it’s gettin’ today.”
“Yep. Here, too.” Annie turned her face from side to side, glancing at her profile in the mirror. Since her time in the Wild West Show, the girlish fullness of her once innocent face had vanished, leaving her cheeks more hollowed and her chin more defined. Her freckles seemed less pronounced, and her eyes, staring back at her, shone with a new wisdom. Yes, she thought, this is as good as it’s going to get.
Annie and Lillie walked to the arena together, toting their weapons. Annie balanced her rifle and shotgun on her arms, and her gun belt, with the beautiful pistols Frank had given her, rested comfortably around her tiny waist. Lillie carried only her rifle.
Several cowboys had set up their targets—an array of hat-shaped and cowboy-shaped metal props, colored glass bottles, a cage full of several dozen pigeons, and new clay pots.
The Colonel and Frank both rode into the arena, Frank on Fancy, and the Colonel on his beloved Isham. As soon as he saw Annie, Frank turned Fancy away from the Colonel and headed for the cowboys and targets. The Colonel urged Isham toward Annie and Lillie.
“Howdy, Colonel,” Lillie said, her voice a little too enthusiastic.
“Lillie. Annie.” The Colonel tipped his hat. He looked resplendent in a cream-colored deerskin duster, trimmed in ivory-colored conch shells. The front piece of his coat featured red-, blue-, and yellow-beaded birds circling bright orange corn stalks, and his thigh-high boots had strips of multi-colored beads and sprigs of eagle feathers on the outer sides.
Kimi’s handiwork. Pure artistry. Annie again felt a pang of anguish at the loss of such a talented young girl.
“Annie, a word.” The Colonel dismounted, and Isham, equally bedecked in silver and leather finery, stood still as a statue, waiting for his partner’s feet to hit the ground. The Colonel pulled the reins over Isham’s head, drawing Annie’s attention to the horse’s beautiful bridle, ornamented with the same lovely seashells that graced the Colonel’s coat.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please hand your rifle and shotgun to Miss Smith.”
Annie handed Lillie her weapons. Feigning a smile, Lillie nodded to the Colonel and trudged off with her heavy load.
“This business with your horse—” the Colonel said.
“I’m trying a new remedy, sir. I’ll get Buck back on his feet in no time.”
“I’d like to see how you fare on Isham. He’s well-known and loved by the audience, as are you, my dear. Our numbers have been low. If we were to advertise Miss Annie Oakley on Buffalo Bill’s faithful steed, it might bring more crowds. I don’t need to tell you what an expense it is to keep this show afloat.”
Annie’s stomach twisted into a knot. Riding Isham would feel like a betrayal to Buck, but if the show didn’t do well financially, neither would she. Given the recent turn of events, everyone had to pull their weight, and more.
“I’ll give it a try.”
“He’s quite sensitive to cues, will turn and stop on a dime.” The Colonel gave her one of his rare smiles and handed her the reins.
Annie pressed her lips together in an attempted smile. She laid the reins against Isham’s withers and set her right hand on the cantle of the saddle, raising her foot for a leg up. The Colonel’s strong arms hoisted her into the saddle, as easily as if lifting a feather. While he adjusted the stirrups to fit her much-shorter legs, she organized her pistols in the gun belt.
“He’s all yours,” the Colonel said, with a slap on Annie’s thigh.
Using her seat, Annie gently urged Isham into the arena at a steady walk, getting into the rhythm of his gait. She then raised her energy, encouraging a trot, posting with his movement, and took a couple of laps around the arena. From the corner of her eye, she could see Frank watching. She urged Isham on to a slow, rolling lope. When she shifted her seat and shoulders to the right, Isham turned right, and when she shifted her seat and shoulders to the left, Isham switched leads in midair and loped to the left. She sank her seat into the saddle and brought him to a quick stop.
LeFleur shouted for all to begin their target practice. With Frank and Fancy still on the far side of the arena, Annie decided to work the tripods for the mounted shooting stage. Isham did most of the work. After a few rounds, she brought the horse to a stop, relaxed in the saddle, and watched Lillie, Frank, and Bobby practice hitting their targets. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Frank until they actually had to practice together.
Lillie ran towards the hedge for the pigeon stage but failed to clear it, falling flat on her face, her rifle firing off a shot mid-flight. Luckily, the bullet ricocheted off the ground and hit an old tree stump instead of one of the cowboys.
Lillie stood, dusted off her velvet riding coat, grabbed her rifle, and called for a pigeon to be released. The bird took air, flapping wildly to gain some altitude. Lillie shot and missed, and the bird flew out of range. One of the crew released another. Lillie shot again, and missed again. She finally hit the fourth bird.
Annie pulled in her lower lip with her teeth, thinking she’d have to watch Lillie during the hours before practice, make sure she didn’t drink any more whiskey.
Bobby readied himself for his headstand routine and only hit two of the ten jars. She’d seen Lillie and Frank miss plenty, but never Bobby. Maybe the strain of Dick Carver’s murder, coming on the heels of Kimi’s death, caused everyone to feel off their game.
The cowboys righted Bobby, who angrily jerked his rifle out of the third cowboy’s hand and fired at all the targets, hitting each and every one.
That’s more like it, Annie thought, but Bobby’s face looked like thunder. Annie knew he struggled with sadness over Kimi’s death, but his actions spoke differently. His behavior did not reflect someone who suffered from a broken heart. It reflected someone in a rage. She’d have to find time to speak with him alone. Between her problems with Frank and Buck’s lingering illness, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else, but her pining for Frank would have to end. Annie had other more important things to tend to.
LeFleur whistled, motioning for her and Frank to come over to him. It was time for one of their card tricks, mirror tricks, or cigarette tricks. LeFleur ge
stured for crewmen to take the horses, then pointed at Annie and Frank.
They walked to the card table.
Lillie handed Annie a deck of cards, and Annie walked to the mark while Frank loaded his pistols. Annie turned to face him and waited patiently for him to be ready. After he’d holstered his pistols, he looked up at her. She tried to keep any emotion from her face and found it easiest to divert her gaze slightly over the top of his head.
Scowling, Frank pulled out his pistol, aimed, and shot. The bullet whizzed by, about a foot from the card. Annie held the card out in front of her to indicate that he’d missed. She held it out to the side again. Frank heaved a frustrated sigh, holstered his weapon, pulled it out, aimed for a split second, shot, and this time the bullet buzzed by Annie’s ear. Adrenaline shot through her body. She probably should say something, but didn’t want to humiliate him further. She just had to hope and pray his instincts would kick in.
She held the card out for him again. This time, he nicked the top corner of it. She raised the card for him to see. He shook his head in disappointment and walked away.
Annie glanced at LeFleur, who, with arms still crossed over his chest, now had a hand resting over his forehead and eyes, clearly disgusted with everyone’s performance.
The Colonel spit chaw on the ground, turned his back to the group, and left, shaking his head. Annie fiddled with the deck of cards in her hands, wishing they could all start over.
“Well, that was a bust.” Lillie brought Annie her shotgun and rifle. “How’d you do over there with the mounted shooting?”
Annie silently handed Lillie the deck of cards and took her weapons.
“Never mind,” Lillie said. “Sometimes, Annie, I don’t think this act would be worth a copper penny without you.” Lillie looked down at the cards in her hand and shuffled them clumsily.
“Well, thank you, Lillie. That was kind of you to say.”
“Aw, hell, it’s the truth.” She stuffed the deck of cards down her corset.