Peccadillo at the Palace

by Kari Bovee

  Annie and Frank dressed as fast as they could and headed toward the main dining room.

  Mr. Bhakta had arranged a private table in a corner near the window. Potted palms screened them from the other passengers who were lucky enough to travel with the 120 performers and crew of the Wild West Show.

  Positioned in the middle of the ship, one floor down from the upper deck, the dining room had been decorated with stately Victorian furniture, glass candle chandeliers, and Persian rugs of the finest quality. Quite like their customized Wild West Show tents, but without the chandeliers, of course. The teak-paneled walls and crystal sconces gave the room the ambiance of a grand hotel. Large flower arrangements graced each table set with silver candlesticks and crystal champagne goblets.

  Seated at their table, Mr. Bhakta’s guests also included the Sioux Chief Red Shirt, Lillie Smith, and the show’s manager, Nate Salisbury.

  “What do you think of the ship?” Annie asked Hulda, who sat with her mouth agape.

  “It’s the most beautiful and grand thing I have ever seen.” “Yes, but it will be nothing compared with the queen’s palaces. I hope to see Buckingham or Windsor.” Annie’s excitement at the prospect momentarily squelched her queasiness.

  “This is like a dream, Annie.”

  The floor rose up and forward and then down and back with a giant swell. Annie gripped the arms of her chair, and the items on the table shifted.

  “Have we stopped?” Frank asked. “It feels like we aren’t moving forward.” He stood up to look out of one of the porthole windows next to the table. “Boy, is it dark out there. Looks like a heck of a storm brewing.”

  Just then, Mr. Bhakta entered the dining room and took his seat next to Frank.

  “The captain has stopped the ship for the time being,” he said. “Apparently, there is something wrong with one of the engines, and it is imperative they rectify the situation before the clouds open up.”

  “Is it serious, Mr. Bhakta?” The colonel paled, laying a hand over his belly.

  “All is in hand, sahib.” Mr. Bhakta smiled, putting his hands up in reassurance. “The captain says they will be finished within the hour. Nothing to worry about.”

  The floor rose up again, and Annie closed her eyes, the nausea returning.

  “Are you feeling queasy?” she asked Hulda.

  “Not at all.” Hulda grinned. “It’s almost like the carousel at the fair.”

  Annie wished she could share the sentiment.

  Lillie Smith, who sat next to Hulda, frowned and waved a Chinese fan vigorously in front of her face. “My stateroom is so small I can barely turn around. And hot.”

  Annie wanted to chide her for being so rude, but she held her tongue, deciding that a row with Lillie would be inevitable at some point during the voyage, so better to wait for an argument worth her energy.

  “I suppose you and the colonel have the largest rooms on the ship.” Lillie shifted in her chair, her face pinched as she tugged at the tight waist of her dress that appeared two sizes too small for her ample frame.

  “Nate and I are bunking together,” the colonel piped up, annoyance in his voice. “So I don’t want to hear any complaints from you, Miss Smith. If you’d like a larger room, I can take the difference out of your salary.”

  Lillie smirked at him and turned her head away, feigning interest in something else. The colonel’s gaze caught Annie’s, and his lips twitched in a half-smile.

  Nate Salisbury, an elegant man with a perfectly trimmed beard and kind eyes, had just been hired on by the colonel for the tour. Annie had heartily approved of the decision.

  “I feel quite humbled. Our room is very gracious,” Annie said in an attempt to diffuse Lillie’s negativity.

  “And it’s right next door to mine,” Hulda added.

  “Just as I figured.” Lillie rolled her eyes.

  “You may have my room, Miss Smith,” said the chief. Tall and imposing with a handsome, stoic face, long nose, and a jaw that looked like it had been chiseled out of granite, Chief Red Shirt also had an attractiveness that came from within. Annie had connected with him the moment her dear friend, Chief Sitting Bull, had introduced them. Since Chief Sitting Bull had left the show, Red Shirt had replaced him as Annie’s protector and friend. “I must stay with my people in the cabins below decks. They are uneasy on the water.”

  “Chief, you don’t have to do that.” The colonel, his face draining of color, pushed his plate away.

  “My people have much fear crossing the ocean,” Red Shirt told the group. “Many are feeling ill with the coming storm.”

  “Well, they aren’t alone, Chief. I’m feeling a bit bilious myself.” The colonel rubbed a hand across his belly.

  “My people believe that if a man attempts to cross the ocean, he will be seized by a malady that will first prostrate him and then slowly consume his flesh, day after day, until at length the very skin itself will drop from his bones, leaving nothing but the skeleton. And if he dies at sea, he cannot be properly returned to the earth.”

  “Well, thank you for the cheerful tale. I know I feel much better,” Lillie said, clutching her silk fan. She waved it in front of her face so violently she set the fringe on the colonel’s coat to swinging. “But I’ll take the room.”

  “Are you afraid, Chief?” Hulda asked. “How did you get your people to come aboard?”

  “They trust my wisdom, and the colonel pays us well. We have seen plenty of death. We should not fear it.” The chief reached for his wine glass and held it up to the group. “A safe voyage.”

  “To a safe voyage,” they all sang in unison, raising their glasses.

  Annie tried to engage in the conversation but could not stop thinking about Buck on the deck above her, possibly pacing and sweating in his pen with the sea growing rougher and the storm approaching. She hoped he hadn’t got worked up again. Sitting through lunch would prove an agony until she could check on him.

  She wanted to talk to Frank about it—he so often allayed her worries—but he and Mr. Patel were engaged in what looked like an intense conversation. It would be rude to interrupt simply because she was fretting over her horse.

  “Mr. Bhakta.” Annie decided to take her troubles into her own hands. She leaned toward him. “Is there a veterinarian on board?”

  “Yes, memsahib. He is one of America’s finest, I’m told. We want all of the Wild West Show’s animals to arrive in London in fine form.”

  “Excellent. I’d like to talk with him about Buck.”

  “I shall arrange it.” Mr. Bhakta bowed his head. “I’m sure he is with the animals now, with the approaching storm.”

  “No need. I’m headed up there myself, soon. I’m sure I can find him.” Annie picked up a hunk of bread, hoping it would settle her stomach. She tore off a piece and put it into her mouth. It was sweet and soft, and to her surprise, it appealed to her. She finished it and then drained half a glass of water. Her nausea must be due to hunger.

  “Miss Smith, are you feeling all right?” Nate asked Lillie, whose pudgy face was growing more insipid by the moment.

  “Feeling a little green around the gills,” Lillie said, waving the fan. Her face blanched and she stifled a burp. “Mr. Bhakta, is the voyage going to be like this for the entire two weeks?”

  “No, Miss Smith. Perhaps intermittently. Shall I order you some ginger tea? It helps the stomach.”

  “No thanks. The way I feel, only whiskey will do the trick.”

  The chief raised his glass to her. “I agree, Miss Smith.”

  The luncheon meal seemed to go on forever, the ship pitching and rolling with the growing storm. Finally, Mr. Bhakta suggested they all retire to their cabins for comfort and safety until the ship was on its way again.

  “Let’s go see Buck,” Annie said to Frank and Hulda. “I hope he’s not out of his mind by now.”

  Annie’s concerns couldn’t have been more well-founded. Buck had worked himself into a lather. He paced frantically back and fo
rth in his stall, his hooves digging into the pine shavings, spreading them to the corners. Soon he’d be pacing on the deck wood below, possibly damaging his legs.

  “I have to get him out of there.” Annie grabbed Buck’s halter which was slung over one of the posts, while Frank opened the stall door for her.

  “He seemed fine when I left him last night,” Frank said. “He was pacing, but not agitated like this. Must be the swells.”

  Once Annie stepped inside, Buck stopped pacing. He stood stock still, but his whole body trembled, and he bumped his nose against Annie’s stomach, desperate for some kind of comfort. The dusky smell of his foamy, sweat-stained coat permeated the air around them.

  “There, there, boy. You’re going to be okay. Let’s get you out of here for a walk, eh?”

  The horse lowered his head for Annie to tie the rope halter around it. She attached the lead line and led him out of the stall.

  Buck surged ahead of Annie, his hooves clattering on the deck. Annie shook the lead up and down signaling Buck to back up. He threw his head in agitation, but obeyed. She tried to get Buck to move forward again, but he planted his feet, his eyes wide, his mind now catatonic, paralyzed with fear.

  “Can we get the vet over here?” Annie asked Frank.

  “I think he’s with the buffalo below.”

  “Hulda, would you go fetch him?” Annie jumped out of the way as Buck, suddenly snapping out of his frozen state, tried to barrel past her. She shook the line again. “I don’t think I’ll be enough to calm him this time.” Annie tried to keep her own anxiety at Buck’s discomfort at bay. She knew they fed off of each another’s emotions, and if she could stay calm, it would help him.

  With a flip of her skirt, Hulda dashed away. Buck screamed a loud, frantic whinny, calling to the other horses. Some returned the alarm, and all swayed and pawed in their pens. Even Charlie and Isham began to weave back and forth in their stalls.

  Large drops of rain fell onto the deck of the ship and made a tick-ticking sound as they hit the canvas cover over the stalls. Buck’s ears perked up, and he lifted his head, as if preparing to flee.

  The veterinarian came rushing toward them, Hulda on his heels. A compact young man with a brownish scuff of a beard and hair the color of sand, he carried a leather satchel.

  “Looks like someone needs a little help,” he said, nodding at Annie. Annie glowered at him, while wrestling with the 1200-pound mass of terrified horseflesh at her side. She glanced at Hulda, whose eyes had gone soft and dewy when the dashing young man had flashed her a grin. “Casey Everett. I’m quite a fan of yours, Miss Oakley.”

  “Right, yes.” He pulled out a glass bottle and syringe from his satchel. “This is a sedative. A few drops of this, and your boy will be calm for hours.”

  “No disrespect, Mr. Everett, but could you tell me what sedative you plan to use?”

  “It’s heroin.”

  “But we will be at sea for two weeks.” Annie struggled to push Buck away from her feet. “Will we have to keep sedating him? I’ve heard heroin is a strong drug.”

  “It’s been my experience with the transporting of race horses, that once the horse is calm, he will see that no harm will come to him. He’ll also realize his herd is here, and they are all in the same boat.” Mr. Everett laughed at his own pun. He held the syringe in the air. “Here, let’s see if we can get this boy—”

  “Buck,” Annie gasped, out of breath from her struggles.

  “Buck, to stand still. Mr. Butler—” he nodded toward Frank. “Could you hold up one of Buck’s feet?”

  Frank moved past Annie and laid his hands on Buck’s neck, stroking it, then ran his hands down Buck’s leg. Trembling with fear, Buck froze, his feet planted to the ship’s deck. Frank pinched the chestnut above Buck’s left front knee, and Buck flung his hoof up into Frank’s hand.

  The horse struggled, probably worried at having one of his limbs immobilized, but Frank held on. Annie stroked Buck’s withers as the vet prepared the needle for injection.

  “I’m going to put the needle in as fast as I can. Miss Oakley, I’m going to need you to step aside.”

  Annie moved back and the vet stepped forward, jabbing the needle into Buck’s neck, making him jump. Frank struggled to hang on in the skirmish. The vet plunged the drug through the needle, and stepped away. “You can let go now, sir,” he said to Frank.

  Frank let go of Buck’s leg and quickly skipped backward to get out of the way as Buck strained against the line, becoming stronger in his terror-stricken need to escape. He reared up, nearly striking Annie in the face with one of his hooves. She jumped back and in doing so, lost hold of the lead line. Sensing his freedom, Buck spun on his back feet and headed straight for the deck railing.

  In four large bounds, like a giant Pegasus, he soared over the rails and into the water, several yards below.

  Chapter Three

  “Buck!” Annie bolted for the railing and hung over it, panicked to see her beloved horse flailing in the swells, his high-pitched screams echoing on the wind. She hiked her leg up over the railing preparing to jump when she felt strong hands pull her back.

  “No, Annie,” Frank cautioned, wrapping his arms around her. The rain came harder, and Annie shivered against the whipping wind.

  “He’s going to drown!” Annie struggled out of Frank’s grasp. “What’s happened?” Mr. Bhakta and the vet came up beside her. Both looked over the railing at Buck paddling frantically in the water.

  “Horses can swim, but not for very long,” Mr. Everett said, taking off his coat, as if he were prepared to jump in after him. “The real worry here is that when the sedative kicks in, it will render him helpless. Then he will drown.”

  “Somebody do something!” Annie turned around, yelling at the crewmen on deck.

  She turned back to see Frank and Mr. Bhakta topple overboard, falling fifteen feet into the water below. They landed with a heavy splash and both disappeared. Within seconds, Frank’s head pushed through the surface, and he shook his hair out of his eyes.

  “Frank!” Stunned, Annie gripped the railing, her heart thudding in her chest. The water around him took on a faint red or pink hue. “Are you bleeding? Why is the water red?” She called out to him, her voice high pitched with panic.

  “I’m all right.” His voice trailed on the wind. “I’m going to go after Buck.”

  “Where’s Bhakta?” Mr. Everett shouted down to him.

  Frank swirled in the water, searching wildly for the queen’s man. Frank then ducked under, disappearing from view. Moments later he resurfaced, his arms wrapped around an unconscious Mr. Bhakta.

  “Why does the water look red? Is Buck bleeding? Is Mr. Bhakta bleeding?” Annie searched Mr. Everett’s face.

  “I don’t see what you are seeing,” Mr. Everett said. His hair fell forward over his eyes as the rain, falling harder, pelted them. “The water is a bit murky, but I don’t see any red.”

  “Somebody!” Annie yelled. Frank treaded water with one hand, and held onto Mr. Bhakta with the other. Buck flailed several yards away from them.

  Annie, Mr. Everett, and Hulda sprang into action, yelling “man overboard,” and directing the crew to lower one of the lifeboats. Several crewmen ran over and pulled at the rigging. They slowly lowered one of the small crafts into the sea. It plopped into the water several feet away from Frank. Holding onto Mr. Bhakta, Frank swam toward the lifeboat.

  Annie braced against the rail with her hands, her fingers white from the pressure. She reached up, pushing her soggy hair out of her eyes, her hand shaking from the cold and the adrenaline surging through her.

  Frank reached the lifeboat. Struggling to tip it, he got Mr. Bhakta’s upper body onto the ledge. Hold on, Frank. Annie strained to see through the rain and the wind whipping her wet hair into her eyes. Buck was still floundering about a hundred feet from Frank. She pressed her fist to her mouth. God, please don’t take my husband—or my horse.

  With a mighty heave, Frank pushed
Mr. Bhakta’s legs into the boat.

  “Take it up!” Frank yelled as steadied the small craft. The crew cranked the pulley and the lifeboat rose in the air.

  Annie’s heart pounded as she saw her horse, flailing in the water, all alone in an abyss of gray-blue sea. As fast as it seemed to come, the redness dissipated—or had it been her imagination? Buck’s thrashing seemed to slow as the drug began to take effect.

  “Better think of something quick for the horse!” Frank shouted as he swam toward Buck. Annie’s stomach plummeted as Buck struggled to keep his head above water, and the rain came down in sheets.

  “Swim, Frank!” she called out to him.

  “Buck’s weakening.” Annie turned around, frantic, addressing the men who seemed to be doing nothing, staring at her as if she’d grown another head.

  “Somebody do something, dammit!”

  “Annie!” Hulda held her hand over her mouth. Her blond ringlets had loosened with the rain, and stuck to her face and neck. “You swore.”

  “If someone doesn’t do something fast, I’ll do more than swear.” Annie hollered to be heard above the noise of the rain pelting the deck.

  One of the ship’s crewmen stepped forward, water streaming from his cap. “I believe we could use that to get the horse back on board.” He pointed to the crane used to haul large loads onto the docks.

  “Yes! We can make a sling and use the crane to get Buck out,” Annie said.

  “Brilliant idea.” Mr. Everett nodded to the crewman. “Let’s see how we can rig this thing up. Miss Oakley, don’t you worry. We’ll get them out safe. Now, you might want to go down below where it’s warm. We’ll take it from here,” Mr. Everett shouted to her.

  Annie looked at him aghast. “I am going nowhere until my horse and my husband are out of that water!”

  Mr. Everett started to protest, but stopped when he met Annie’s eyes. He then called to the other crewmen to help set the hoist.