by Kari Bovee
“This lot will be of no help,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Bobby and the other cowboy waited for her and Fancy to pass and then followed behind.
Annie clenched her jaw. She’d just killed a man. Again, she’d committed a grievous sin against her beliefs, her religion. But sometimes you had to take matters into your own hands. Finally that bastard McCrimmon got what was coming to him.
They returned to camp just before dark that evening. They’d stopped only once to eat the bread and jerky the other cowboy had brought along in his saddlebag. Annie’s body ached with exhaustion and the weight of defeat. There had been no sign of Buck, and they had traveled at least ten square miles. She hoped the others had better luck.
As they rode up to the barn, the Colonel, on Isham, sidled up to Annie and Fancy.
“I’m sorry—we didn’t find him, Annie.”
Annie wanted to smile at him, but couldn’t make her facial muscles cooperate.
“Thank you, sir. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“I can’t spare the men tomorrow, my dear. I am sorry.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Annie blinked back her disappointment.
“Listen. I take it you’re not going home till you find Buck.”
Annie nodded. “I have to find him.”
“Well, now, your family will still need money, so how about you stay on for a while, at least till we pack up for Kansas. I’ll wire two months’ worth of pay to wherever you want it wired.”
“That’s very kind of you. I won’t leave without Buck.” Annie swiped away the sweat and dust off her cheek.
“Of course not. When you and the boys aren’t practicing or performing, we’ll send them out in small search parties.”
“Colonel, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. That horse is—”
“I know, darlin’. I know.” The Colonel leaned down to pat Isham on the neck.
“Have you seen Mr. LeFleur? Did he have any luck with the local horse traders?”
“No one’s seen your horse. Maybe tomorrow.”
By the time Annie ate dinner and made it back to her tent, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under her covers and get a few hours sleep. They had performances tomorrow midmorning and midafternoon, but she would take Fancy out in the early morning hours to search the forest again. Perhaps Buck would escape from his captor and head back. Annie vowed to use every spare minute to search for him.
Lillie stood by her bed, returned from the hospital, unpacking clothes. Annie noticed the white lilies she had purchased sitting in a silver pitcher on Lillie’s nightstand.
“Well, there’s the world famous Annie Oakley,” Lillie said, with a throaty laugh.
“Hello, Lillie. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Can’t keep a good cowgirl down. Can’t wait to celebrate. Want to come over to the saloon with me?”
Annie groaned. Almost poisoned to death a few days ago, and in her first few hours back, Lillie wanted to get drunk. Annie sank down on her bed.
“I don’t feel much like celebrating.”
“What gives, princess?”
“Buck has gone missing. We’ve been searching for him all day.”
“What? He’s gone? Just like that?”
“Mr. Post thinks someone stole him.”
“Who would do that?” Lillie plopped down on her bed, still holding an article of clothing.
“Frank is gone, too.”
Lillie’s mouth fell open. “You don’t think that he—?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t really believe it, but she felt so exhausted and frustrated, the words tumbled out. “I told him that I never wanted to see him again—ever.”
“Are you saying that Frank may be seeking revenge? Even I find that difficult to believe.”
“I don’t know what I am saying.” Annie sighed, lay back on the bed and placed the back of her hand over her eyes. “I am so tired and so worried about Buck I can’t think straight.”
“What about that McCrimmon fellow? He could have taken Buck.”
Annie’s stomach clenched. She shook her head.
“We found him in a cabin in the forest. The man was nearly dead with drink. There’s no way he could have even walked this far to let Buck out. Anyway, he won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”
Lillie threw up her hands. “I never thought I’d say this to you, Annie, but I am truly sorry for your troubles.”
“You may not feel so kindly toward me when I tell you something else.” Annie steeled herself for what lay ahead. She sat up.
“Spill it,” Lillie said, her eyes opening wide.
“The sheriff has apprehended Twila.”
Lillie bolted to her feet. “What?”
“They haven’t arrested her; they’ve taken her in for questioning.”
“For Pete’s sake, why?” Lillie positioned her hands on her stout hips.
“Remember when Buck was so ill? We couldn’t figure out what it could be. On a hunch, I had a friend of mine take a sample of his water to have it tested. They found traces of poisonous oleander in it. The coroner exhumed Kimi’s body at the request of Detective Jonas, and they found a lethal amount of the same plant in her system. It’s also the same poison they found in the chocolates that almost killed you.”
Lillie dropped the dress she held, her face in a grimace, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“And how does this involve Twila?”
“They discovered oleander plants in her possession, mixed among the other herbs. They also found a pistol in her trunk that uses the same ammunition used to kill Mr. Carver.”
Lillie shook her head violently, shook a finger in the air.
“You’re wrong, Annie, you’re just wrong. Twila has a lot of unusual herbs in her possession, but she uses them for healing, not for killing.”
“Things happened in her past, when she was with Buffalo Bill and Dick Carver’s Rocky Mountain and Prairie Exhibition, that raised suspicion. Things that may have driven her to shoot Carver.” Annie didn’t want to reveal everything just yet, not until they were certain.
“This makes no sense at all.” Lillie plopped down on the bed, struggling to process the information.
“The chocolates also had oleander in them, Lillie.”
“If you’re implying that Twila sent the poisoned chocolates, I don’t believe it. She loves me like a sister—she’d never do anything to hurt me.”
Annie looked down at her bandaged hand.
“Those chocolates were meant for me.”
Lillie’s mouth went from an opened gape to a soft o shape, but when the information finally registered, her expression reflected alarm.
“Twila is not the friendliest of women, Annie, but you cannot expect me,” she pointed vehemently at her chest, “me, to believe she would try to kill someone. She just wouldn’t.”
“I’m not expecting you to believe anything, Lillie,” Annie said, the weight of the world suddenly pressing down on her. “I’m just telling you what has occurred since you’ve been gone.”
Lillie stood with her hands clasped together and her shoulders slumped forward, studying Annie. Annie flopped down onto her back and tugged the bedclothes over her body. She never even heard Lillie leave the tent.
Annie awoke to shrieking from somewhere outside. She sat up with the gnawing feeling that she’d slept longer than planned. Still in her clothes from the day before, she got out of bed and rearranged her skirts and corset. The skin on her torso had been rubbed raw next to the seams of the binding bodice. She never should have slept in her corset, she knew better, but she’d been so tired.
What was that horrible noise? She looked over at Lillie’s bed . . . empty, and the bed covers typically scattered everywhere. So, she had spent the night there—and she hadn’t murdered Annie in her sleep. Standing at the ewer, splashing cold water on her face, Annie caught sight of her image in the mirror. Dear Lord, not a pretty sight. She ran her fingers through her thick, knotted ha
ir.
The shrieking continued.
Unable to ignore it any longer, Annie stepped outside. The yelling came from near the Colonel’s tent. Annie strode briskly toward it and paused once she arrived, to inch around the corner. She saw Twila, her finger held out in front of her face, screaming at the Colonel.
The Colonel stood with one hand on his gun belt. The other held a cigar, poised next to his cocked hip. He stood uncharacteristically still, enduring her tirade.
“I have given you the best of myself . . . for years,” Twila moved closer to the Colonel, “and you can’t give me this one thing—the one thing I’ve been denied over and over again. All those babies,” she said, her voice raising an octave, “all those babies lost, but now you have one. One that is motherless. I can mother that child, Bill.”
The Colonel raised his hand in the air.
“No!” Twila shouted. “You will not quiet me!”
“That child is where she needs to be, Twila, I won’t discuss it further.”
Annie watched the Colonel continue to calmly face the woman standing before him, her hair a disheveled mess, her face worn. Her torn and dirty clothes hung on her like rags. She looked like a wild Medusa.
The Colonel then turned and addressed the people gathering around to witness the commotion.
“We have a show in an hour and a half. What are y’all standing around gawking at? Get on with it.” He jammed the cigar into his mouth and stalked off.
Twila stood her ground, her fists in tight balls at her sides. She turned and saw Annie staring at her.
“And you, are you happy now? I have nothing, nothing!”
As Twila moved toward her, Annie planted her feet and folded her hands neatly in front of her, placing her strong hand in front.
“Let me tell you something, Miss Annie Oakley,” Twila spat in the dirt. “I admitted to the sheriff that I put that oleander into your horse’s water. I figured you were only as good as that damn horse, and if he couldn’t perform, then neither would you, and you’d be gone. And I wanted you gone. I make no bones about that, but that horse kept getting up and you wouldn’t give up.” Twila’s face contorted into its familiar scowl. “All I hear is ‘she’s so charming, she’s so talented, she’s such a star.’ Frank loves her, the Colonel loves her, and even LeFleur loves her.” Twila put her hand to her temple as if her head pained her, squinted her eyes closed, popped them open, and trained them on Annie’s face.
“And I may have lost my temper with that nit-witted Indian harlot, and I may have struck her when she kept simpering around the Colonel, pleading with him to love her. He was my man, and he was done with her. Done with her, so yes I got angry, but I did not give her poison, and I did not shoot Carver, and I did not poison those chocolates. So whatever you think you may have accomplished by talking to that damned detective came to nothing. Nothing!”
She fell to her knees. “I wanted that baby. I wanted to love that baby, and now he’s taken her away—and it’s your fault, Annie Oakley. It’s your fault.” She collapsed, and began sobbing and pounding the ground in front of her.
Annie remained rooted in her position, unsure what to say or do. Twila’s confession had stunned her, and, as ugly as the tirade had been, Twila had bared her soul—and Annie believed her. The mask had finally been lifted, revealing a woman whose lover had betrayed her and denied her the respect she so craved, and the baby she so desired.
One of the Indian women knelt beside Twila and lifted her to her feet. Annie watched as they slipped into the Colonel’s tent. As others began to move away, Annie followed suit.
The number of people in the stands surprised Annie. She had worried that the loss of Frank Butler would negatively impact the show’s popularity, but the crowd swelled to full capacity and seemed more rambunctious and animated than ever.
After Buffalo Bill, his cowboys, and the Indian performers finished their enactment of “The Battle of Yellow Hand” with the Colonel holding his foot atop a fallen “heathen” and waving a black scalp in his hands, it was Annie’s turn to shine. She leaned down and stroked Fancy’s deep brown shoulder. The horse stood stock still, dozing, as she usually did before a performance.
While waiting for the masses of cowboys and Indians to exit the stadium, Annie noticed Bobby several yards away, under the stands, pacing back and forth, his hand to his chin. She’d never seen Bobby fret before an act. A natural performer, he’d never put much stock in rehearsals, although he’d never missed one.
The announcer delivered the Colonel’s final send off, and the audience roared with appreciation. The Colonel sped Isham around the arena, a fake scalp still firmly grasped in his outstretched hand, before finally making his exit. He brought his horse to a sliding stop in front of Annie and Fancy, causing the mare to raise her head and widen her eyes. He stuffed the scalp into the pocket of his elaborately embroidered coat.
“Ready?” the Colonel asked her.
“Of course.”
“They’ve been shouting your name in there. If I didn’t know better, I’d say your getting shot made them love you more than ever. You really are a heroine to them; they’re waiting for your big entrance.”
Annie tried her best to smile, but she wanted nothing more than to be sharing this moment with her trusted horse—and she couldn’t help missing him, and Frank. The Colonel seemed to sense her unease.
“They know that you’ll be riding Fancy rather than Buck, and they were disappointed, but if you ride her like a champ, all will be forgiven. It’s you they really want to see.”
Annie bit her lower lip.
“Annie, we’ll send another team out to search for Buck. Some of Sitting Bull’s people are trained trackers. If they have to stay out a couple of nights, we’ll let them.” The Colonel winked. “Don’t worry, we’ll get your horse back.”
The announcer shouted Annie’s name and the crowd came alive again, screaming louder than she’d ever heard them before.
Annie rode Fancy into the arena at a steady gallop, the reins poised tenderly in her injured hand, firing her pistol into the air with the other. She shelved her preoccupations and worries, flashed a pretty, girlish smile, and soared around the arena, making eye contact with her adoring fans.
After successfully completing the first course, while waiting for the crew to set up the next one, Annie walked Fancy along the railing, and began shaking hands with people jammed into the front rows of the ground boxes. Others clamored to get a glimpse of her, which made Annie’s heart swell with pride. Perhaps, somehow, she was making a difference, if only by giving folks a diversion from their troubles for fifteen to twenty minutes at a time.
She and Fancy made their way down an entire length of the arena before the announcer called her back to perform her next course. Within minutes, she’d completed it perfectly.
The gates opened and Bobby and Lillie ran in, waving to the crowd. Behind them, one of Mr. Post’s barn crew rushed over to collect Fancy. Annie dismounted with a lively bounce and joined Bobby and Lillie. When she grasped Bobby’s hand, it felt wet with perspiration, and his face looked pale. Could he be coming down with the virus? She squeezed his hand to get his attention, gave him a questioning look that clearly conveyed that she wanted to know if he was okay. He shook his head.
The crew had erected the table with their weapons. Unable to use her rifle with her injured hand, Annie held the cards for Lillie. Soon Boomer the dog ran into the arena with his owner following behind, carrying a stool. Using her pistols, Annie managed to shoot a bottle, an apple, and a grapefruit off the canine’s head. When she finished, the dog ran over to her, tongue wagging, and jumped up, placing his paws on her shoulders. Annie hugged him close with her good arm and reveled in the messy kisses he slobbered all over her face. Yells and laughter from the audience floated on the air, and, for a few seconds, Annie remembered what it felt like to be happy.
After a few more tricks from Bobby and Lillie, they gathered together, grasped hands, Bobby careful t
o hold her injured hand lightly, and raised them high in the air. Together they bowed low three times.
“Wow! That was a boon.” Lillie said, breathless, as the gates closed once again. She leaned over to catch her breath. “Whoo! Those damn chocolates really took the spunk out of me. I’m one tired girl. Why don’t we go get a drink, compadres?”
Annie shook her head. “I have to search for Buck.”
“Oh, yeah. I suppose you do, huh?” Lillie’s face crumpled. “You too, Bobby?”
“I’d like to help Annie.”
“All right then.” Lillie straightened her body. “I wish you two the best of luck. I’d offer to help, but me and the beasts just don’t seem to get along.”
Annie and Bobby exchanged a glance. No one had ever seen Lillie anywhere near a horse. They watched her amble toward the saloon. The stands creaked and thumped as people made their way out of the stadium.
“I appreciate you helping me look for Buck, Bobby.”
“Aw, Annie, I’d do just about anything for you.” Bobby looked away from her and pulled his hat off his head. His bottom lip quivered.
“What’s wrong, Bobby?”
Bobby crushed his hat between his hands. His face contorted, as if struggling to contain an emotion that threatened to surface.
“I’ve got a secret that’s killing me, Annie. I don’t know if I can stand the strain anymore. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”
“What, Bobby? You can tell me.” Annie pressed her uninjured hand to his shoulder.
Bobby twisted the hat mercilessly in his hands and shook his head.
“I can’t. Truly. It’ll just get you hurt. It has gotten people hurt. I just can’t.”
“I saw you and Mr. LeFleur arguing—several times. Does it have something to do with that? Why are you so angry with him?”
Bobby’s face turned bright pink, darkening his freckles. His mouth turned down. He looked like he’d just seen something that filled him with disgust, and his breath came in long blasts out his nose.