Girl with a Gun

by Kari Bovee

  They climbed three flights of stairs, slowly, the nun stopping on every landing to catch her breath. When they reached the third floor, the nun led Annie down a long hallway. Thick molding framed the high ceilings, which were lit by dainty crystal chandeliers. Once a grand house indeed, Annie thought.

  They found Lillie, reclining in a beautiful four-poster bed, and Twila on a chair next to it, holding baby Winona. Annie steeled herself against what would surely become an unavoidable confrontation with the snake charmer. Twila fixed a cold stare at Annie as she approached.

  “Well,” Lillie said, her voice weak. “Is that the famous Miss Annie Oakley strolling through my door?”

  Lillie, in a pristine white lace gown with long sleeves trimmed with pink ribbons, looked softer, more approachable, almost puritanical.

  Twila, who wore her usual head-to-toe black, with a hint of white lace at her throat and sleeves, would never look approachable. Winona, wrapped in a light blue blanket, slept peacefully in Twila’s arms.

  “How are you feeling?” Annie tiptoed towards Lillie.

  Lillie responded with a raspy cough. “Like I swallowed three handfuls of stickers.”

  Annie held out the flowers for her.

  “Why, I do declare. Do you see, Twila? Miss Annie Oakley brought me flowers.” She buried her nose in the fragrant blooms.

  Twila raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  Annie pressed closer, smiled at Lillie.

  “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I’ve grown fonder of you these last few weeks, and I wanted to see for myself that you’re all right.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Lillie lifted her head from the bouquet. “The doctor says I should be fine.”

  “Do they know what caused your . . . ailment?”

  “They aren’t sure, but I had more than my fair share of lectures about firewater, which won’t surprise you, I guess.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to let up every once in awhile. Not drink like the cowboys.”

  “Aw,” Lillie waved her hand in the air. “Wouldn’t hurt you to drink every now and then. Say, now that your hand’s injured, Frank’s out, and I’m here recuperating, what’s the Colonel and LeFleur going to do about the show?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ve also come to say good-bye.” Annie’s eyes flitted to Twila, whose eyebrows arched. “I’m leaving the show.”

  “What? You’re leaving? Why? Frank won’t be around anymore,” Lillie said, alarm in her voice.

  “My family needs me, and I have to go as soon as possible.”

  “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to be all right, Lillie, and I want you to know that I wish you well,” Annie said, touched by the sincerity in Lillie’s voice.

  “I think I’ll miss you, too. Thanks for the flowers.” She held them to her nose again.

  Twila didn’t say a word, but Annie caught a glimpse of that cat-like grin twitching at the corners of Twila’s red painted lips.

  When Annie arrived back at camp, Emma and Detective Jonas were waiting outside her tent, the expression on their faces grim.

  “Darling Annie, I am so glad to see you looking so rosy and refreshed. How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine, Emma, feeling much better today. I was about to post a letter to you, but I forgot.” She looked at the detective. “Hello, Detective Jonas.”

  The stern, wire-bespectacled, impossibly thin man removed his Hamburg and nodded to her.

  “Miss Oakley, may we step inside your tent? We have some information to impart to you.”

  Annie gestured for them to step inside.

  “Sit down on your bed, dear,” Emma said, “I will fetch chairs for Mr. Jonas and me.”

  Detective Jonas hitched up the legs of his too-roomy pants to sink into the chair, then leaned forward, his tie dangling mid-air between his crisp white shirt and his bony legs.

  “We’ve had the body of Kimi exhumed,” he said quietly. “She was indeed poisoned.”

  “Dear God.” Annie let out a rush of air. She could feel her face blanch.

  “You were absolutely right in your suspicions, Miss Oakley,” Detective Jonas said.

  Annie glanced over at Emma.

  “So it wasn’t the snake?”

  “No, the traces of poison found in Kimi’s body were the same poison that had been placed in your horse’s water trough. The oleander didn’t kill the horse, because he weighs over a thousand pounds. He would have needed a much bigger dose to kill him. Humans, on the other hand—”

  Annie gasped. The thought that Buck could have been killed—that Kimi had been killed—overtook her.

  “There’s more, dear.” Emma rested a reassuring hand on Annie’s knee.

  “We received word from the coroner’s office.” Detective Jonas cleared his throat, as if to impart more bad news. “The chocolates sent to your tent were laced with oleander.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised,” Annie said. “But who? Who did this? It seems like it must be the same person.”

  “We followed up on your suggestions and looked further into Miss Midnight’s life.” Detective Jonas pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “We even searched her and Colonel Cody’s tent and found traces of dried oleander. We also found a gun among her belongings—a LeMat, a very rare Civil War pistol, primarily used by Confederate generals. The gun uses the same ammunition that was found in Carver’s body.”

  Annie’s body began to shake.

  “We think she did it all.” Emma leaned forward, pressing her hand more firmly on Annie’s knee.

  “So what happens now?” Annie asked.

  “We have some deputies on the way to the hospital to apprehend Miss Midnight. They’ll take her back to the sheriff’s office for questioning. Now, please understand that we haven’t proven anything yet, but I wanted to let you know that your instincts are impressive, and, if she’s guilty, it will be thanks to you that this whole case came together. I could use you on all my cases.” Detective Jonas smiled and promptly stood up. “Before I head back, I need to speak with Colonel Cody and Mr. LeFleur, so please accept my gratitude for your time and your assistance, Miss Oakley. I hope your hand recovers soon.” Detective Jonas secured his Hamburg back on his head and turned to leave.

  “Wait one moment, please,” Annie said.

  She went to her wardrobe, found the reticule LeFleur had given her with the dress, and retrieved the folded piece of paper and the gold coin.

  “I want you to see something.” She laid the paper down and carefully unfolded it. “I found this in my hotel room, after the shooting. It was on the floor, which means someone had it on them when they came to visit.”

  Detective Jonas peered down at the dried twigs and leaves. He gently lifted one of them and inspected it closely, held it to his nose. “I’m fairly certain this is oleander,” he said.

  “Why would it be on your hotel room floor?” Emma asked.

  “I had a lot of visitors that day, you and Detective Jonas included. I thought perhaps someone had tracked it in on their boots or shoes unaware—or brought it in on purpose.”

  She mentally visualized Bobby pulling his hands out of his pockets, but couldn’t bring herself to name him as a suspect. She had to speak with him first.

  “More excellent investigating. I’ll need to take this, as evidence.”

  “Yes, by all means.” Annie sat back down on the bed. “And I have something else.” She held up the gold coin.

  Detective Jonas took it from her fingers.

  “I found that on the floor below my trunk, where I keep my tea tin.

  I have no idea if it means anything, but I know it’s not mine, nor was it Kimi’s. I’m not sure how it got there.”

  “It’s been marred by something.” Detective Jonas looked up at her over his spectacles.

  “I saw a file, with gold flakes in it. One of the cowboys was using it. It’s kept in the barn.”

  Det
ective Jonas twisted his mouth. “I can’t see how this has anything to do with the murders, but I’ll hang onto it. Have you mentioned this to anyone?”

  “No,” Annie lied. She couldn’t make Bobby’s name come out of her mouth.

  “Well, let’s keep this under our hats. You see if you can get me that file.”

  “I will.” Annie thought she could slip into the barn and find it before she had to leave the next day. “I’ll leave it out by Buck’s pen.”

  “Fine.” Detective Jonas meticulously placed the twigs into the folded paper and placed it in his breast pocket. His brows knit in thought or concentration, he turned and left the tent, stealthy as a cat.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Annie said, looking at Emma.

  “Quite a day, isn’t it? You mentioned a letter?”

  “Yes. I wrote to tell you I am leaving.”

  “No!” Emma’s green eyes opened wide in alarm. “But why?”

  “I have to. My mother is not well, and my brother and sister are too young to assume responsibility that is rightly mine. It’s selfish of me to stay.”

  “Selfish? How?”

  “My family needs me at home, but it would also be better if I weren’t here.”

  Emma gave her a puzzled look.

  “Someone found it necessary to poison Buck, Mr. Carver was murdered, and the chocolates Lillie ate were meant for me. I think the tea Kimi drank was also intended for me. It would be better for all if I left the show—the sooner the better.”

  Emma’s brow crumpled with concern, her perfectly alabaster skin flushing pink.

  “But we’ve identified the culprit. Twila Midnight is being apprehended. All the mayhem will vanish.”

  Annie shook her head. “I’m not positive Twila is behind everything.”

  “But why? She obviously despises you.”

  “Yes. But something just doesn’t add up, like the oleander twigs being dropped onto the rug in my hotel room. Twila Midnight did not visit me while I was there, so she couldn’t have dropped it.”

  “If you leave now, how will we ever find out the truth about all these happenings?”

  “If I leave, everyone else will be safer.” A wave of disappointment washed over Annie, causing her stomach to churn and her head to ache. “My family is homeless and penniless, Emma. That’s not something I can take lightly. They depend on me, and they’re in desperate need.”

  “Dear heart, you are such an inspiration, but promise me that you’ll come back the minute things change.” Emma reached out to touch Annie’s arm.

  Annie looked down at her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to talk about home anymore. Doing so made her feel like the world was at its end. Emma must have picked up on her silent cue and changed the subject.

  “Have you seen Frank Butler since you’ve been back? Is he still on the premises?”

  Annie shook her head, pressed fingertips against her eyes to relieve the pressure behind them.

  “No. I haven’t seen, or heard from him since he shot my hand. I know he must feel bad about it. LeFleur wouldn’t let him near me. Frank probably thinks I want nothing more to do with him and I . . . I don’t.” She looked into Emma’s eyes and shrugged. “I feel so torn. I loved him, and I refuse to believe that he intentionally harmed me, but I’m not sure he’s someone I can trust. It seems our romance is not meant to be.”

  “It’s probably for the best, Annie. You deserve much better.” Emma reached up to brush the back of her hand along Annie’s cheek.

  “Yes, I know.” Annie reached up, took Emma’s hand and and squeezed it.

  “Well,” Emma said, standing up, smoothing her skirts, “I will let you rest. When do you leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “I will be back before then, to say my farewells.” Emma again brushed a hand across Annie’s cheek, this time patting it. When she left the tent, the swishing of her taffeta skirts echoed long in Annie’s ears.

  Annie should have gone to the mess tent for supper, but only wanted to see Buck. On her way to his pen, she went into the barn, looking for the file. She entered into the dim coolness of the large wooden structure. Horses, their heads down munching on flakes of hay, popped their heads up as she passed. The smell of wood, oil, horse, hay, and manure mingled in the dusty air, and Annie breathed in, letting the scent infuse her body with its comforting earthiness. She would miss this place filled with hay dust, the sounds of horses moving about in their stalls, and Mr. Post, proud guardian of it all.

  She stepped into the small room they used to keep tools and equipment, and Annie saw the pail with several metal files in it.

  “Hey, Miss Oakley.”

  Annie nearly yelped as Mr. Post walked in behind her.

  “Looking for something?” Mr. Post looked unusually tired, his hair and shirt mussed and his beard scraggly and uncharacteristically unkempt.

  “Yes, actually. I am looking for a file. I wanted to clean up Buck’s hooves before we leave tomorrow.”

  “I sure do hate to see you go.” Mr. Post’s watery eyes beseeched hers. “And I’m going to miss Buck.”

  “Yes, but I must leave. Thank you for all you have done. Now, about that file?”

  “We can have one of the cowboys work on Buck’s feet.”

  “I’d rather do it myself. You know—”

  “I do. Right here,” he said, pointing to the bucket. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Post.” Annie went over to him and embraced his skinny body, all bones and sinewy muscle. She felt his hand pat her gently on her back. Unwilling or unable to look her in the face, Mr. Post left the room.

  Annie rummaged through the files, but couldn’t find the one with the gold flecks. One of the cowboys must have it. She wished she hadn’t promised to deliver it to Detective Jonas. It could be anywhere in the camp.

  As she approached his pen, Buck came galloping to the fence. Annie patted his head, then reached into her pocket for the sugar cubes she’d taken from tea service earlier. Within seconds, Buck scraped the cubes from her hand and loudly crunched them.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat startled Annie. She turned to see Frank, holding his hat in his hands, his fingers nervously smoothing the brim. Annie held her breath for a moment, not sure what to do or say.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming here.” He looked worn, like he hadn’t slept in days, like a man who’d lost everything. “I just had to talk to you, Annie.”

  “I know.” Annie steeled her resolve not to do something weak, like cry.

  “How’s the hand?”

  “It’s improving. No broken bones, so the doctor thinks it will heal fine.”

  “Annie, you have to know in your heart how sorry I am.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat again. “I wanted to come to you, but the Colonel and LeFleur absolutely forbade it. They put a guard outside your room.”

  Annie stood silent, focusing on her breath, breathing in, and breathing out. After all that had happened between them, the physical attraction remained strong. Part of her longed to throw herself into his arms . . . but she wouldn’t. She hadn’t known about the guard, but it didn’t surprise her. LeFleur had staked his claim, empty as that claim was.

  “You know I didn’t mean to shoot you, Annie. I would never harm you.”

  To shield herself from the unbearable pain reflected in his eyes, Annie turned away. She couldn’t bear to see those eyes shiny with tears. A man like Frank didn’t cry, unless his heart and spirit were broken.

  “I’m leaving the show.” Annie modulated her voice to sound firm, resolved.

  “No, Annie, don’t leave because of me. I won’t be here after tomorrow.”

  “It’s not about you. My family is in dire straits. Joshua stole every penny I’ve sent, and the bank laid claim on the farm. They are destitute and living in the backroom of a store. I must try to rectify things.”

  “I’m so sorry. I guess we’ll both be heading home. I have things to put right as
well.”

  The finality of their words didn’t sit well with her. He was so ready to leave her, escape his pain. But what about the pain he’d caused her—the emotional pain? A sudden surge of anger coursed through her. She turned to face him.

  “Did you hear about Twila being called in for questioning?” Her tone carried a venom that surprised even her.

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Well, are you going to tell me again that I have misjudged her?”

  Frank’s jaw flexed. “They haven’t proven anything yet,” he said, his voice deep.

  “Just as I suspected—you’re still defending the woman who caused me so much pain, who poisoned the horse I love. You’ve never stopped loving her.”

  “Annie, that’s not true. I want them to find out who caused all this mayhem, but I don’t think Twila’s capable of killing someone. It’s true that she can be a cruel woman, but it’s also true that you set about building a case against her from the start of this mess. If you set your targets too soon—”

  “You’re a coward,” Annie said, the depth of her rage bubbling out of her.

  Frank turned away, looked somewhere in the distance, then slowly turned his head back around, drilled his eyes into hers. Clearly, she’d insulted him, but her words were unstoppable.

  “You never wanted me to be in the show.” Annie’s voice lowered. “You resented my skill, my talent—a skinny little girl outshooting the great marksman Frank Butler was unthinkable. You couldn’t keep them from hiring me, and you couldn’t get your aim back, so you decided to make a fool of me. Well, you’ve won, Frank. In a day, I’ll be gone, forgotten, back to Nowhere, Ohio, while you’re off to live a rich life on your father’s horse farm. You’ll be able to start over. You’ll never go hungry.”

  Annie closed in on him and drilled her eyes into his, demanding him to answer to her, to admit that he’d set out to make a fool of her. He lowered his eyes from her gaze.

  “Look at me.” Annie clenched her uninjured fist, rammed it into his chest. “I hate you, Frank Butler, I hate you, I hate you!” She pounded his chest in rhythm with her words, over and over.

  He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, until at last he grabbed her wrist and held it firm, looked hard into her eyes.