“And the press was ragging us, saying we were incompetent.”
“They were not. It was just a cute human interest story—and they said nice things about the mayor’s office and the NYPD generally. I thought it was all pretty friendly. And they really wanted you to find Lindy—and get those jerks who took him.” Her third drink arrived and she started on it right away. “By the way, whatever happened to those guys?”
“Oh, they’ll be charged. The whole bunch of them were operating out of that house you found. They’ll probably all get deported.”
“They didn’t really hurt anyone, did they?”
“But we didn’t know they wouldn’t. And they threatened to kidnap you, too. But come to think of it, if they had, I suppose you’d have been okay. You’d have just gone ahead and rescued yourself, too, if they had kidnapped you. Probably would have chewed through the ropes or something. We’d have found them all tied up to a telephone pole or something. The whole bunch of them.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.
“No,” he said, “don’t make a face. You’re just full of little surprises to make a guy look dumb. Full of li’l trisks. Tricks.” His tongue seemed to be getting thicker. Li’l feminine wiles.”
“I don’t know why I bothered to see you today.” She wasn’t feeling too clear herself. “I could have gone to a movie. A western. Full of ropin’ and tyin’ and shootin.’ By guys who pretend to know how to do it. Or just stayed in the hotel and watched TV. Watched myself on TV.”
“Right. You could have spent the whole day watching sweet, innocent, gorgeous, wonderful Annie Cornell on the TV while the whole world goes gaga over you. And makes fun of the men who try to take care of you.”
“That’s it!” She stood up abruptly. “I’ve had enough, Mr. Caped Crusader. Like I need anyone to take care of me!” She grabbed her bag and fled.
“Annie!” Bart also got out of his chair, but too fast, and over it went, while he made an effort to grab at it and instead got his feet tangled up in its legs. She was well away by the time he got clear. He grabbed a handful of twenties out of his wallet and tossed them onto the table—too much, but he didn’t care—and ran after her, but too late, for she had already hailed a cab and was gone. He stood there on the sidewalk, knocked over by what had just happened.
And the waiter, picking up a hundred and twenty bucks, said to himself for the thousandth time, “Some people just can’t hold their liquor. At least she didn’t throw her margarita in his face.”
In the taxi, Annie rested her head back, closed her eyes, and said to herself, I can’t believe the nerve of that man. You’d think he’d be so pleased, he got his precious horse back, all safe and sound. And they got all the bad guys, too. You’d think he’d be happy. You’d think he might have said thank you. If he were a gentleman. A gentleman would have given me a little credit. Praised me a little. I think I deserve at least that much. He’s no gentleman. That’s your problem, Bart Hardin, Sergeant Bartlett Hardin, you’re no gentleman. No gentleman at all. She opened her eyes. She was sure she could see the four gargoyles at the top of the Chrysler Building, ahead of her on 42nd Street, and she imagined one of them stuck his tongue out at her as her taxi approached. So she stuck her tongue out, too, right back at it. “So there!” she said. She closed her eyes again.
“What did they put in those drinks?” she muttered hazily.
And sitting on the stone steps at the edge of the park, Bart closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The nerve of her! he said to himself. Riding into town like the cavalry and no respect for anyone. With her fancy research and her showing off like that, with cameras and reporters all chasing after her like she’s a miracle worker or something. And her TV shows and her interviews, and lah-di-dah, I’ve got to meet with the press, and everyone loves me, and winning contests and all. And so what if she rides bareback, anyone can ride bareback. Just leave off the saddle. That seemed funny to him, so he laughed.
He opened his eyes and looked up, way up—and there, high in the blue, blue sky, he could have sworn he saw a peregrine falcon at dizzying speed, chasing a pigeon. “Go get her,” he whispered. “You’re the fastest thing in the sky, buddy. Show her what you can do.” His head started to spin and he closed his eyes again.
“They must have put something in those drinks.”
Chapter Thirty
The Wobbles
Saturday Afternoon – Later
She needed to put a steadying hand on the wall of the elevator as it sped her up to the forty-fourth floor. When she wobbled into their suite, she found Liz curled up on the sofa, watching Vista from New York.
“I recorded it,” Liz said. “I called Craig and told him to record it too, so we can see it again when we get back home.”
Then she looked at Annie.
“Are you okay?”
“The nerve of that man. He’s no gentleman, Liz. He just is no gentleman. No gentleman at all.”
Annie seemed to be having trouble holding her head up and trying to focus.
“Omigod. Have you been drinking? You look so funny.”
“Funny, ha ha?”
“Well, yeah, funny, ha ha. That, too.” She already had a hand on Annie’s arm and steered her to the sofa. “Here. Sit down.” She took Annie’s handbag and put it on the coffee table. “What have you been up to?”
“It’s been a long day, Liz. A very long day. I was on that show this morning.”
“I know, dear. I was there.”
“And they wanted me to tie a halter. They had some rope and they gave me the rope and wanted me to show all the viewers out there in TV land how easy it is to tie a halter for a horse out of a piece of rope.” She peered somberly at Liz. “It’s not easy to tie a halter for a horse out of a piece of rope. You know that, Liz. You know how hard I worked to learn that. I must have spent a hundred hours practicing. What’s the matter with those people, Liz? It’s not easy at all. A thousand hours Jimmy Ray must have spent a thousand afternoons teaching me how to do that. Said it would come in handy someday. And see? He was right.” She kicked off her shoes. “He was a very wise man, Liz. He said it would come in handy someday, and it did.”
“I’m going to get you some coffee.”
“The nerve of that man. You’d think he’d be happy. You’d think he’d say thank you, at least. What’s the matter with people here?”
Liz was calling room service. “I know, honey. I know.” To room service she said, “Make it extra strong—and hurry!”
She hung up and to Annie she said, “It’s been a long couple of days and you need a rest.”
“Yes, long days. And those women on the show, they kept talking about the contest, and the Buljornia crowd, and the library in Laramie, and showing that damn video of me on Lindy, running down that bald man, and there I am, in my jeans and the yellow paisley—that shirt is silk, Liz, and you know I would never wear that shirt riding. Galloping Lindy down a city street, past grocery stores and dry cleaners and I felt so ridiclorus. Rilicolus.” She paused. Focused. “Ri-dic-u-lous. And I didn’t do anything that you or a hundred other folks we know wouldn’t have done. I don’t know what’s the matter with these people, Liz. They make such a fuss over everything. And they talk so fast. And all in explanation points.” Another deep breath. “Ex-clam-a -tion points.” She closed her eyes. “I seem to be having some trouble talking.”
Liz hadn’t seen Annie like this since she was fourteen years old and someone spiked the punch at homecoming.
“I can’t wait to hear about your meeting with Bart today,” she said. “Must have been interesting. Later on, after you’ve had some coffee and a little rest, you can tell me all about it.”
“Oh, Liz, don’t even say that man’s name to me. I don’t want to ever think of him again.”
“Yes, dear. We’ll talk about it later.”
“He hates me.”
“I don’t think he hates you.”
“Yes, he does. He thinks I ruined his
life.”
“Why don’t you lie down, Annie. Take a little nap. You’ll feel much better after you sleep it off. Then we can go out and have dinner, maybe go to a movie, and you can tell me all about it.”
“And I thought I was doing him a big favor.” She was getting wobblier by the minute. Her eyelids were already drifting shut. “It just shows to go you.”
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the coffee.
“Just in time,” Liz said. She let them in, tipped them, showed them out, quickly poured the coffee, and brought it to Annie.
But it was too late. Annie was sound asleep on the sofa.
Chapter Thirty-one
In the Neigh-borhood?
Saturday Evening
A couple of hours’ rest, a shower, and a change of clothes, and Annie was restored to her usual, sober self. Sober enough to remember that Bart’s feelings were hurt and somehow he thought it was her fault, and they hadn’t parted on friendly terms. Again.
Facing the bathroom mirror, she had a little talk with herself.
“You’ve known him for only a few days. You’re making too much of this. He’s just another guy, with an ego that gets in the way of—oh, I don’t know—whatever it is.”
She had to pause and try to figure out what she was trying to tell herself.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay, he’s cute, and strong, and protective. And every man looks good in a uniform. And even more so on a horse. And for a while there, you thought maybe you’d found someone you had a special feeling for.”
The mirror looked back at her. She felt as though she didn’t even know herself anymore. She decided to leave off the makeup. She’d had enough of that, after all the gussying up of the last week. She looked deep into her reflection, deep into her own eyes.
“Maybe it’s like those shipboard romances in old movies. Fun while it lasts, but then you come home to reality. No more magic. That’s probably what this was. Like a fever. A cold shower, a little penicillin, and you’ll be fine. Go home to Laramie, get back to work, put all the craziness and fuss of this last week behind you, and be a normal human being again.”
She took a deep breath. Then a second one. And went into the living room to join Liz, who was waiting to leave for dinner.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Feeling fine. What do you want to do this evening?”
“Dinner and a movie. There’s a new George Clooney movie out. You know how I am about George Clooney.”
“Who isn’t?” Annie said. “Okay. Whatever you want. You’ve been such a sweetie, Liz. This whole trip, you’ve let me hog the spotlight. Tonight is all for you. ”
“Much appreciated. I’ll just get my bag.”
On the way down to the lobby, she said, “The concierge told me about a good place for dinner. Not far from here.”
“Lead on,” Annie said. But when Liz led her to Charlie Wu’s, she said, “Oh, no!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. This is your evening. This will be fine. Looks very nice.”
They were led to a table in the middle of the room, so Annie was at least spared the grief of winding up at the same spot she and Bart had shared. But she wasn’t spared the embarrassing arrival of Charlie Wu himself, who came to the table, told her how glad he was to see her, and to tell her he was honored that New York’s heroine chose his restaurant for dinner. She introduced Liz, he said their dinner would be comped, of course, and he sent over a bottle of wine.
“That’s for you, Liz. I think I’ve had my quota for the day.” That’s all I need, after my performance this afternoon. “But nice of him to do that.”
“Might as well face it, Annie. You’re the toast of the town and you ought to enjoy it.”
“Right. Until the next ‘toast of the town’ shows up. Good thing we’re leaving soon.”
“Plenty of girls would give a lot to have the adventure you’re having here.”
“I know it. Of course I know it. It’s just—well, I guess this whole thing now with Bart has made it sort of like ashes in the wine. Know what I mean?”
“So what did happen? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. We’d had a couple of drinks. He got mad. I got mad. He feels I showed him up and I guess his male ego can’t take it. I felt unappreciated, and I guess my ego can’t take it. I said he was stupid. Well, not that, exactly, but I guess it sort of came out that way.” She picked up her menu. “I’ll just add the whole episode as a postscript to my New York adventure. You win some, you lose some. I won a contest, I lost a guy. No big deal. Just think of all the clothes I’m going home with.”
Liz gave her a funny look but said nothing. They ordered. They ate. They left. With Charlie himself escorting them to the door and saying he hoped he’d see them again soon—any time they were in New York. A great honor to his restaurant.
Liz had the movie theater’s address in her bag and she gave it to the cab driver.
“The movie starts at 8:30, so we have time. But I can’t get over how everything stays open so late. Did you know the movies are still going after midnight? Don’t people sleep here?”
Annie laughed. She was getting used to New York’s round-the-clock pace. But she stopped laughing when the cab stopped and she saw that they were in Times Square.
Why here? He could be patrolling here.
“I have to leave you off here,” the driver said. “The street is closed. Some work crews down there.” He pointed to a couple of temporary sawhorses. “You can walk it, easy. Just down the street here.”
So Annie paid the driver (“It’s your night, my treat,” she said), they got out—and to Annie’s dismay, a couple of mounted cops were not more than a hundred feet away, in the midst of a bunch of tourists who were taking their pictures and stroking the horses. And of course, Lindy was one of them, and of course, it was Bart riding him. She hoped, in the midst of Times Square’s crowd, he wouldn’t see her, and she hurried Liz around the corner toward the movie theater down the street.
But of course Bart had seen her. Maybe a hundred times, he’d imagined he’d seen her, and now, when she actually appeared and he saw that flash of bright blond hair out of the corner of his eye, he knew he’d seen the real thing. He signaled to Max, who was up on Hip Hop, that he was going to move on down to the corner, and when he got there, he saw Annie and Liz going into the movie theater.
The interior of the theater was like a mall. There was a food court and escalators in all directions. And the aroma of popcorn and hot dogs and nachos.
“Twenty-five screens!” Liz marveled.
“I can’t get over it,” Annie said. “I remember when they opened the Fox Theater in Laramie and five screens was such a big deal.”
“We are such country hicks,” Liz said.
“I know,” Annie agreed. “Thank God. I couldn’t live in these crowds. I mean, it’s fun for a few days, but the noise and the speed of everything and all the people. I’ll be so glad to get back to big sky country.”
“Me, too.”
“On the other hand, look at all the movies here. And all the restaurants and the museums and the concerts and even on the street—it’s like theater wherever you go. That’s something we don’t see back home.”
“True. No way to have everything.”
And with those words of wisdom, they arrived at the top of the escalator, several stories up, and went into the dark to spend a couple of hours with George Clooney.
It was almost eleven o’clock when the movie ended and there were streams of people arriving for the next show. In the midst of the human swirl, they paused on the sidewalk outside to study Liz’s map and to get their bearings. There was plenty of street light to see by, and the crews that had been working earlier were gone. The two blond heads were bent over the map, concentrating.
And Annie felt something against her neck. Something soft and familiar. Lindy had his muzzle up against her cheek, giving her a warm greetin
g.
She turned and looked up into Bart’s blue, blue eyes.
“Sorry about that,” Bart said. “He wanted to say hello. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
A little crowd was gathering around them. Annie was so tired of crowds. What devil turned her pleasure in Bart’s—and Lindy’s—ap-pearance into a stubbornly contrary need to make a sarcastic jab?
“You sure you aren’t afraid I’ll upstage you? I mean, you put on such a great show out here, with your glamorous uniform and your gorgeous animal.”
Even Lindy look startled.
And Bart’s face went grim. His jaw clenched and his eyes went cold.
“Well, folks,” he said, addressing the tourist onlookers, “we have a real celebrity here. Meet Annie Cornell, New York City’s current heroine of the week. You can ask her all the questions you want. Take a bunch of selfies with her. She just loves the attention.”
And he wheeled Lindy away and they disappeared into Times Square’s nighttime crowd.
Liz pulled her quickly out of the crush of descending gawkers and into the street, where she quickly hailed a passing cab and stuffed the stunned Annie into it.
“What in the world got into you? That was so rude.”
“Well, he was rude, too.”
“Annie, you two are acting like twelve-year-olds.”
“I know.”
And she began to cry.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” She dropped her head and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so confused. Everything had been so fabulous, and I was feeling so lucky. I thought the whole world was smiling at me. There was the shopping spree and being on TV and oh, just all the fun of being here in this great city. And then, out of the blue, along came Bart—”
Just saying his name produced a new flow of tears, and Liz dug a tissue out of her bag and handed it to her.
Her Winning Ways Page 23