by Kari Bovee
In the morning, the cheery Irish maid returned with a large box.
“What is this?” Annie got out of bed.
“A new dress. Your Mr. LeFleur had it sent to the hotel.”
Panic seized Annie. Her old dress had the gold coin and dried twigs in the pocket. She ran to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Her dress hung neatly inside, untouched, still dirty and covered with blood.
“You want me to throw it away? You’ll never get those blood stains out.” The girl moved closer to the wardrobe.
Annie reached in the pocket and pulled out the folded paper and gold coin. She gripped them in her hand, hoping the girl wouldn’t notice, and backed away from the wardrobe.
“Why, yes. I suppose it’s ruined.”
“I’ll take it when I clean the room. Shall I open the box?”
“Please.” Annie put her good hand, holding the coin and envelope behind her back.
The girl opened the box, revealing a deep burgundy satin dress with pink silk chevrons sewn at the cuffs and collar. Grasping the shoulders of the garment, the girl pulled the dress out of the box. A whoosh of the toile underskirts sliding across the comforter sent chills up Annie’s spine.
“Oh, this is a fine dress.” The girl held it up to the light, admiring the shimmering folds of fabric that would cover the bustle.
Annie noticed a matching reticule in the bottom of the box, and, grateful for Mr. LeFleur’s attention to fashion detail, snatched the satchel out of the box and stuffed the envelope and coin inside it.
Annie let the girl help her dress, and together they gathered her belongings and checked her out of the Southern Hotel. The Colonel had paid the bill. Annie’s hand still pained her, but, anxious to get back to the camp, she gritted her teeth against the discomfort.
The maid deposited Annie and her things in the lobby and then dismissed herself to continue with her work.
People milled about the lobby, some of them nodding their recognition. Annie smiled back, but tried to avoid their eyes in hopes of discouraging conversation.
“My dear, what a shock,” a young woman said, approaching her. “How is your hand? Isn’t it just like a man to be jealous of a woman’s skill?” She tossed her tawny brown curls. “He deserves whatever he gets.”
Luckily, a young boy came over and asked Annie for her autograph, pushing the rude woman out of the way. He had no pen and no paper, but gaped at her with such an innocent smile that Annie caught the attention of a bellhop, who scurried off to secure both. When he returned, Annie asked the boy to turn around so she could use his back as a solid surface upon which to sign her name on the paper. As she scrawled her signature, the boy looked over his shoulder.
“My ma says Frank Butler’s going to hell for certain.”
Annie turned him around to face her, bent down to his eye level, and handed him the slip of paper. “Mr. Butler did not hurt me on purpose. It was an accident. You tell your ma I said so.”
A tall, well-postured doorman approached Annie.
“Mr. LeFleur sent the coach for you, ma’am.” He gathered her small bag of belongings to take outside. “It will be brought around shortly.”
Annie found it odd that Mr. LeFleur had not come in person to see her back to camp. Perhaps he had his hands full, trying to get the show back on track and dealing with Detective Jonas and his assistants amid the murder investigation. With the loss of Frank and Annie, he was likely scrambling to develop a new act. Just thinking of it made Annie feel guilty, particularly since she’d have to tell him that she was needed at home and would not be returning to the show. Regrettably, only she could help her family out of the mess Joshua had created—and it had to happen at home, hundreds of miles away.
The Wild West stagecoach arrived moments later. The driver politely assisted her into the coach, then silently drove the horses back to camp.
When Annie alighted from the stagecoach, she was greeted by many of the cast and crew. Everyone wanted to know how she was feeling, did her hand hurt, how was she holding up? She noticed the Colonel, standing near his tent, smoking a cigar. He raised his hand in greeting. She didn’t see LeFleur anywhere, which surprised her, given his devotion to her.
The crewmembers finally dispersed, allowing Annie to walk alone to her tent. She scanned the area for any sign of Frank but didn’t see him. When she spotted Buck busily munching a pile of hay, her mood lightened—until she remembered that she had to return to Ohio, and she couldn’t afford a train ticket for herself, let alone Buck. She ducked inside her tent to find Lillie sprawled on her bed, eating something.
“Look who’s back?”
“Hello, Lillie.”
Annie hoped her disappointment at seeing Lillie didn’t show on her face. She’d wanted time to get settled in by herself, and Lillie tended to absorb all the energy in the room. As Annie set her reticule on her nightstand, she saw an envelope face down, discarded on the rug between her bed and Lillie’s. She picked up the folded note lying next to the envelope and read it: “Candies for the Sweet, Sincerely, A Fan.”
Annie glanced over at Lillie, who shoved another chocolate into her mouth.
“Did those chocolates come with this note?”
“Uh huh,” Lillie said, mid-chew, “caramel inside. Simply dee-vine.”
She noisily licked her fingers, then probed the box for another morsel.
Lillie would not be someone Annie would miss.
“Want some?” Lillie held out the box.
Annie rolled her eyes and turned away.
“Ah now, sweetie, no one has ever sent me chocolates before, so I couldn’t resist having a taste, but there’s plenty. Have one.” She stood to take the box over to Annie and staggered. “Oh, dear—”
Annie presumed she was drunk until she clutched her stomach and doubled over.
“Lillie? What is it?”
“My belly is cramping something awful. It hurts, Annie.”
Annie rushed to her side and slid under her arm to lift Lillie and keep her from falling to the floor.
“Sit down, Lillie. Sit on the bed.”
“I can’t move,” Lillie said, moaning. She tried to say more, but her body began to shake and convulse. They sank to the ground together, Lillie curling into a fierce ball.
“Help!” Annie shouted. “Somebody help!”
Lillie tried to speak but only succeeded in producing strained grunts and gasps.
Suddenly, Bobby was standing over them.
“Bobby, go get help. Lillie is terribly ill. Go quickly.”
LeFleur and Twila came rushing in moments later, the Colonel two steps behind them. Twila immediately dropped to her knees next to Lillie, using a hand to shove Annie out of the way. Annie instinctively used her injured hand to rebalance herself and yelped in pain.
“What’s wrong with Lillie? What have you done to her?” Twila glared at Annie.
Annie rose to her feet and stood clutching her injured hand. “What do you mean? When I came in she was fine, then suddenly her stomach began cramping and she cried out in pain. I think it might have been the chocolates.”
“Oh, dear God,” LeFleur said, under his breath.
“She’s convulsing and will slip into a coma.” Twila craned her neck to speak to LeFleur. “We have to get her to the hospital right away!”
LeFleur seemed frozen in place, his face ashen.
“Derence, we need to move her, now!” Twila’s voice rose in urgency.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll get the stagecoach.”
“Hurry!” Twila cradled Lillie in her arms. “Lillie, my sweet Lillie, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. I will take care of you, darling girl—do not slip away, please, please.”
Lillie’s convulsions continued, rendering her speechless. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. The Colonel knelt down and placed a hand on Twila’s back.
“Don’t worry, my dear, we’ll get her on her way quickly.”
Twila shrugged off his hand, drew Lillie closer to her
chest, and began to cry.
Bobby escorted Annie to her bed and sat down next to her, his face trained on hers.
“Are you all right, Annie? You look a little pale.”
Annie nodded, biting her lip in an effort to reduce the throbbing in her hand.
“I’ll be fine, Bobby. I’m just worried about Lillie.”
Lillie let out a desperate groan and then went still.
“Lillie! Lillie!” Twila cried, stroking her face. “Wake up, Lillie, don’t give up. Don’t give up, don’t give up . . .”
The Colonel placed two fingers on Lillie’s neck.
“There’s a pulse, but it’s faint. Where is LeFleur with the damn coach?”
LeFleur burst into the tent.
“I’ve got it. It’s right outside.”
He and the Colonel lifted Lillie into the coach, Twila following in a labored rush.
“Wait,” Annie said. “Bobby, take the chocolates. The doctor may need to test them, to save her. Take them, please.”
Bobby sprang from the bed, gathered the box, and sprinted to the coach. Her suspicions rising, Annie walked to the discarded envelope, picked it up and turned it over, reading her own name scrawled across the front.
As she suspected, the chocolates had been meant for her.
CHAPTER 22
“Frank Butler Fired from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. Annie Oakley Recovering Comfortably at Forest Park.”
Missouri Chronicle – April 24, 1884
That evening, Annie, the Colonel, and LeFleur sat in the dim candlelight of the Colonel’s tent in silence. Lillie remained unconscious, but they’d been told she was still alive. Twila had refused to leave Lillie’s side. The remaining chocolates had been sent to the coroner for inspection, and Annie had just informed them that she had to return home to save her family.
“So, you see, I have to leave the show,” she said.
LeFleur sat forward in his chair, his hazel eyes exhibiting an intensity she didn’t wish to encourage.
“Isn’t there something we can do? What if we gave you an advance on your salary? Would you be able to stay then?”
“I appreciate your generosity, Mr. LeFleur, but it’s not just about my family anymore—those chocolates were meant for me.”
“It hasn’t been determined that those chocolates were poisoned.” The Colonel raised his cigar to his lips and drew in smoke. “Hell, that girl’s had a death wish since she got here. I haven’t ever seen a woman, or a man, drink whiskey like she does. She could have rot gut.”
“Lillie wasn’t drunk.” Annie shook her head. “I can always tell when she is, and I’m pretty sure the chocolates made her sick because someone also poisoned Buck. Someone has wanted to chase me away from the day I arrived, and this hatred nearly killed Lillie. Now Frank is leaving because of me. I’ve brought nothing but bad luck to the Wild West Show.”
The Colonel puffed out a steady stream of cigar smoke and adjusted his weight in the chair.
“Miss Oakley, you have a public appeal the likes of which I have never seen before. The crowds love you—and that horse of yours. Frank’s star, though it burned bright for a long time, has faded. I’d had it in my mind to release him earlier, but you appealed to Chief Sitting Bull on his behalf, and he wrangled me into giving Frank another chance. If I’d trusted my instincts and sent him packing, he wouldn’t have been around to shoot you. Why, he could have killed you.”
“But don’t you see, Colonel? Someone is trying to kill me, which means that my mere presence is now endangering others. Lillie could die.”
“I don’t believe that, Annie.” The Colonel shook his head. “Do you, LeFleur?”
LeFleur remained suspiciously quiet. When Annie finally looked at him, he’d set his mouth in a hard line, while his eyes flitted from her to the Colonel. He looked as if he were about to burst.
“You can’t leave, Annie. The show needs you, especially now that we’ve lost Frank, and Lillie may not be fit to perform for a while. Other than Chief Sitting Bull, you are the best headliner we have. The Colonel is right, the public adores you—and we need you on the bill.”
Annie sighed. “I have brought nothing but trouble and scandal to the show.”
“What scandal?” the Colonel asked.
“That newspaper article? Old man McCrimmon prowling around, telling lies about me?”
“That was nothing to get all worked up about.” The Colonel waved his cigar in the air. “It didn’t change the public’s—or my—opinion of you.”
“What about Carver?” she asked.
“What about Carver?” LeFleur’s eyes shot open. “You had nothing to do with that.”
Annie shrugged her shoulders. “I still have a suspicion that he and McCrimmon may have formed some kind of alliance. He’s just mean enough and crazy enough to do whatever he can to ruin the show, to get his revenge against me. It’s not fair to have someone like him around, putting everyone in danger.”
“Now wait a minute.” The Colonel leaned forward. “Carver’s death hasn’t ruined anything. We don’t know who killed him just yet, but the Thiel Agency will find the killer, and I’d be mighty surprised if this McCrimmon fellow was involved. No one has seen hide nor hair of him for days.”
Annie sighed in relief, but knew in her heart that she had to go.
“All that may be true, Colonel, but my family needs me at home.”
The two men studied her silently.
“May I remind you that you signed a contract,” LeFleur said.
“I’ve not forgotten. It may take a while, but I will pay whatever penalty you feel is fair. Please, you can’t ask me to stay when my family is in danger. I’m all they’ve got.”
The Colonel stood up and walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the tent, rummaged around in a drawer for a few minutes, and then held up some papers.
“This was your contract,” he said, ripping the sheets in half, letting the torn pieces fall to his desk.
LeFleur leapt to his feet, his fists clenched at his side.
“You can’t do that. We can’t afford to let her go. You have to make Annie stay.”
“I don’t have to do any damn thing I don’t want to do.” The Colonel clamped his teeth down on his cigar. “This is my show, LeFleur, which means I make the rules, which means I can break the rules. Now sit down before you pop your kettle.”
LeFleur’s jaw hung open and his face flushed beet red. He flopped onto his chair.
“I don’t want you to leave because you think you are endangering anyone here at the show.” The Colonel turned his attention to Annie. “That’s nonsense. But I do respect your obligation to your family. It’s my hope that if I let you go now, you’ll get things right with your family and come back to us.”
Aware that she’d never be free to return, Annie felt overwhelmed with gratitude, particularly after the Colonel had been so kind. She couldn’t stop her lower lip from quivering.
“Now, now, my girl, don’t you worry. We’ll take care of your train ticket, and we’ll see that Buck gets on that train, too.” The Colonel squashed the butt of his cigar in a crystal ashtray. “Now you go on back to your tent and pack your things.”
Annie wanted with all of her heart to thank him, but she couldn’t form a single word. Instead, she offered the Colonel a tearful nod of acknowledgement and dashed out of his tent.
“Annie, you can’t go.” LeFleur ran after her. He grabbed her arm, wrapping his fingers tightly around it, so tightly she cried out with pain.
“Mr. LeFleur. Please let me go.”
“I can’t let you go, Annie. You have to stay.”
“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away from his hand.
He loosened his grip, but still held on to her arm.
“I can take care of you . . . and I can take care of your family. We can send them money.”
The look on his face made the hair on her arms and neck rise.
“I will take care of my family. N
ow please, let me go.” She fixed her eyes on his with fury. “Let. Me. Go.”
“You shouldn’t do this, Annie. You’ll regret it.”
The next morning, the Colonel handed Annie a train ticket to Cincinnati, Ohio, scheduled to leave in two days time. He’d made the arrangements to transport Buck as well. Annie placed the ticket in her reticule and sat down to write a letter to Emma. She had to explain the situation of her circumstances and how she would not be able to fulfill her obligation at the Women’s Shooting Exposition. She considered mentioning the twigs she’d found in her hotel room, but now the notion seemed silly. She did mention the teacup and tea tin, so Detective Jonas had all the information she could give him. She had to be content with the hope that he would find out who had killed Kimi and Mr. Carver.
When she finished writing the note, she folded the paper and placed it into an envelope, affixed a stamp, and slipped it into her reticule. She would be able to post it in town.
The stagecoach was waiting for her near the grandstand next to the arena. Annie wanted to visit Lillie in the hospital to say goodbye, and the Colonel insisted she use the show’s stagecoach. She asked the driver to make a quick stop at the post office where she intended to deposit the letter, but on the way they passed an outdoor flower stand. She smiled when she spotted large white lilies.
“Stop the coach, please.”
She would deposit the letter on her way back from the hospital.
The private hospital, once a spacious and lavish family estate, stood proud and beautiful on a large plot of thick, freshly mown grass. Annie marveled at the towering white columns and grand stairway leading up to the front doors.
A tiny, pixie-like nun, with sprigs of grey hair peeking out from her black veil, greeted Annie at the door.
“Welcome to St. Marks,” she said, revealing remarkably white teeth for one so old. “How may I help you?”
“I am here to visit Miss Lillian Smith.” Annie cradled the fragrant bundle in her arms.
“Yes. Right this way.”
“How is Miss Smith doing?”
“She is resting. We had quite a scare. She almost didn’t recover, but she’s better now.”