Peccadillo at the Palace

by Kari Bovee

“Go change your clothes right now, and wash your face.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Sure Shot.” Lillie puffed on a cigarette.

  “Was this your doing?” Annie turned to face Lillie, unable to control her temper. “I thought we talked about this, Lillie. Hulda is still a child. I won’t have her looking like a harlot—why, she is the spitting image of Twila Midnight!”

  “I’m not a child!” Hulda stomped a foot. “Bobby said I look beautiful and sophisticated.”

  Annie shot Bobby a look. The silly grin faded, and his face turned the color of Buck’s salt lick. Tipping his hat, he quickly retreated into the barn. Lillie stepped up to Annie, her nose inches from Annie’s. Her eyes flared with anger.

  “You take that back, Miss High and Mighty.”

  Annie stood her ground. She knew it was cruel to bring up Lillie’s adopted sister and Annie’s nemesis, who’d passed away a few years ago—it had just slipped out—but Lillie seemed hell-bent on ruining her sister.

  “Lillie, I would appreciate it if you left my sister to me.” Annie tried to keep her voice even.

  Lillie’s eyes softened, but not much. “Well, maybe if you were around more and left the detective work to the police, she wouldn’t be so lonely. What kind of a big sister are you, anyway?” Lillie spit a flake of tobacco off her lip and sauntered away. Annie turned to Hulda whose eyes were brimming with tears.

  “I hate you!” Hulda said.

  “Hulda, I’m sorry—”

  “I hate you!” She turned and ran toward the tents.

  Annie sighed, shaking her head. She shouldn’t have scolded Hulda— again. She just couldn’t abide the girl wearing such outlandish clothes. It sent the wrong message.

  “I had a little brother,” Miss Tessen said, her voice quiet and even. “I know you mean right by her, but she just wants to be her own person. She’s finding her way.”

  Annie bit her lip, afraid to speak for fear her voice would crack. She held her breath to keep tears from forming. She never thought bringing Hulda to England would be so challenging. She placed a hand on her belly. How could she be a mother when she was failing so miserably as a sister?

  The sound of a loud whistle filled the silence. It was Mr. Salisbury, calling everyone to practice. Annie composed herself, and lifted her calf to get a leg up from Miss Tessen. Once she had mounted, Miss Tessen handed up her pistol belt, then her rifle. A little shooting practice would do her good.

  The rehearsal went well, without a hitch, except for the fact that Annie couldn’t seem to hit many of the targets. Frank, standing at the fence watching, called her over.

  “What seems to be the problem?” he asked. “You never miss.”

  “I got after Hulda again. I shouldn’t have. I guess it threw me off.”

  “Try it again.”

  Annie turned Buck and repeated the course, this time, hitting all of her marks.

  Frank, standing at the fence clapped his hands together applauding her. She trotted Buck over to him.

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “You’re going to have to keep a cool head when it comes to your sister.”

  “I know. I’ll go find her.”

  Frank headed back to their tent. Annie watched him go, his usual swagger diminished by the constant ache in his belly. She wished she could make everything right again, and Frank well, but nothing seemed to be working out as she had hoped.

  Annie sought out Hulda and found her sulking in her tent, wearing her dressing gown, her makeup smeared, and the tawdry dress lying on top of her bed.

  “Hulda, I’m sorry I was so harsh. I know things have been difficult for you, and I haven’t been able to spend much time with you.”

  Hulda refused to look at her and picked up one of the Indian costumes. She took up her thin needle and began sewing colorful beads onto the suede. She had designed an intricate and beautiful pattern.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” Annie said, trying to keep her tone soft.

  “I want to go home.” Hulda still had not made eye contact with Annie. “I miss Mother.”

  Annie sighed. She missed their mother, too. She would be able to smooth things over between the two of them. She always had.

  “Well, you can’t right now. You have a job to do. And you do it so well, Hulda. You really are quite talented. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Hulda finally looked up at her. Annie smiled, hoping to ease Hulda’s anger.

  “Stop trying to act like my mother, Annie. I can’t stand it. You are so bossy.” Hulda set down her work, waiting for Annie to react.

  Hulda still needed mothering. She hadn’t made the best choices since they’d left New York. As much as Annie wanted to tell her so, she bit her tongue. Keeping the peace with Hulda was her most important job—even though it seemed the hardest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sitting atop Buck, waiting for her first international performance, Annie breathed deeply, trying to settle the butterflies racing around in her stomach. She always got a little nervous before a performance, but today felt different. Hulda was still not speaking to her; Frank’s health had not improved, so he wouldn’t be ringside, cheering her on; and Lillie had beaten her again in practice the day before.

  From where she and Buck stood, near the corrals at the outskirts of the grand stadium, Annie could see several people filing into the immense, all-white, American Exhibition building where the performances were held.

  The idea of a private show for the prince and princess made Annie tense with anticipation. She looked out over the green expanse of Earl’s Court gardens, watching as people strolled the flower-laden paths and lined the road to get a look at their future sovereign when he arrived in his carriage.

  Annie closed her eyes, visualizing the course she had run with Buck yesterday. She envisioned the red, white, and blue swags, commemorating the relationship between England and America, decorating the royal box where the prince and princess would sit. Opulent displays of flowers, fragrant and colorful, surrounded the stadium. She remembered the placement of all of her targets and imagined herself hitting each and every one.

  “How are you doing, Annie?” She opened her eyes and saw Bobby standing next to her, twirling his pistols in each hand—something he did to settle himself before performing.

  “I’m all right, Bobby. A little nervous.”

  Bobby slipped his pistols into his holster, then took them out and twirled them again. “I’ve come to fetch you for the colonel and Mr. Salisbury.”

  Annie nodded and turned Buck to follow Bobby. The colonel and his manager always wanted a meeting with the players before their first performance in a new location. He’d never admit it, but the colonel got nervous, too. He felt personally responsible for everyone—the players and the spectators—and liked everything to run smooth as butter.

  Once the meeting had adjourned, the players headed toward the exhibition hall where they would wait to enter the stadium. After the famed “Enactment of Yellow Hair,” featuring the colonel, Chief Red Shirt, and Black Elk, Annie would run the mounted shooting course.

  While she was waiting to go on, Annie took Buck for a few laps in the practice arena. When she brought him to a stop, she saw Oscar Wilde and Lily Langtry standing on the other side of the arena fence. She trotted Buck over to them.

  “Miss Oakley!” shouted Mr. Wilde. “Fine day for a performance, is it not?”

  Annie pulled Buck to a stop and greeted the two of them. “Will you be watching the performance?” Annie asked, surprised the prince’s mistress would be present.

  “Of course, dear. Your horse is lovely,” said Mrs. Langtry. “He reminds me of my Copper, one of the horses Bertie purchased for me.”

  “Thank you,” Annie said, not completely appreciative of the compliment, as it was a reminder of the prince’s treatment of his wife. Annie struggled to reconcile the words Emma had told her about the relationships of royals.

  Mrs. Langtry held her hand out for Buck
to sniff. Annie couldn’t deny she was impressed. Most people, especially those who claimed to know horses, walked right up to Buck and slapped him on the neck. Mrs. Langtry showed a respect for Buck that Annie had to admire.

  “We may have some information for you, my dear,” said Mr. Wilde. “J. L. heard some scuttlebutt around Buckingham about a disgruntled servant who was overlooked for the late Mr. Bhakta’s coveted position.”

  “Oh?” Annie suddenly forgot about her nerves.

  “We’ve also heard that Old Vic has received some threatening notes at Windsor,” said Mrs. Langtry. “It’s not entirely unusual—Vic has her enemies great and small, but we gathered from what we witnessed at Georgie’s soirée, and also from your friend the reporter, that you are investigating what happened to Mr. Bhakta aboard the ship. You also believe it might point to danger for the queen.”

  Annie couldn’t be sure of Mr. Wilde’s and Mrs. Langtry’s motives, but they certainly had her attention.

  “I do believe there is a connection, yes.”

  Mrs. Langtry stroked Buck’s forehead. Annie could feel him melt under her, and she, too began to relax.

  “The queen certainly has her opinions about me, but she is my sovereign and I her subject. And I have the greatest respect for her son, who has been very good to me. I don’t wish any harm to come to the old girl.” When Mrs. Langtry smiled at her, Annie couldn’t help being charmed.

  “We are at your service,” Mr. Wilde added, sweeping his hat off his head and bowing with a flourish. Annie didn’t know what to think about their offer. She supposed it couldn’t hurt to have some connection to the palace. Behind them, near the American Expo building, Annie spotted Bobby waving her over. She pointed to him.

  “That’s my cue. I must go now.”

  “Very well,” said Mr. Wilde. “We will be cheering you on in the stands. J. L. has a box behind the prince’s box.”

  “Yes, and the prince and I are throwing a party after the show,” said Mrs. Langtry. “We do wish you would come.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Wilde chimed in. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there, you know.”

  “I thank you for your kind offer, but my husband is not well, and I wish to spend the evening with him. Maybe some other time?”

  “We understand, don’t we, J. L? Anyway, you must be off. Break a leg, my dear!”

  Annie trotted away from them thinking they were the most eccentric people she had met to date.

  As the colonel, Chief Red Shirt, Black Elk, and the other cowboys and Indians left the arena, Annie and Buck stood by waiting for the announcer to invite them in. Annie checked her pistols to make sure they were ready to fire. She then adjusted the Winchester in its scabbard, and checked to see that it fit securely under the saddle’s fender.

  Chief Red Shirt, riding bare-chested and bareback on his favorite pony, Dancing Feather, approached her. Sweat glistened off his muscular, war-painted chest, and his face bore his familiar proud expression, but it melted to a smile when he made eye contact with Annie.

  “They are a most appreciative audience,” he said as he steered Dancing Feather next to Buck. “I think this first performance bodes well for the show.”

  “That’s excellent news, Chief.” Annie said, scratching Buck’s withers. She could feel his pre-performance anxiety surface, as usual. Buck made it clear he loved performing but, like her, he experienced some jitters right before going on. The mass of butterflies she’d experienced before felt as if they had organized themselves and were now flying in formation—still there, but less jumbled.

  “Did the prince and princess seem to enjoy the show so far?” Annie asked.

  “Yes. They said so. The colonel and I exchanged some words with them. They asked about you and Miss Smith and would like to greet you when you’re finished.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told. Thank you, Chief.”

  “May the Great Spirit bless you and your horse. May you give an astounding performance, Watanya Cecilia.” Red Shirt reached over and laid his hand on Annie’s shoulder.

  Annie heard the announcer introduce her, so she bid the chief a quick goodbye. She turned Buck toward the stadium gates and trotted him around for a moment, collecting herself, and allowing him to burn some energy. When the gates open, she urged him into a canter and then an all-out run.

  Buck’s muscles flexed beneath her as he stretched his neck out and raced around the arena. Annie lifted one of her pistols from its holster and shot it into the air as the small crowd of fifty or so people whooped with excitement.

  As they made their way around the arena, Annie set her gun back into its holster, and took note of her targets, mentally preparing for the course. Two dozen multicolored glass balls sitting atop as many tripods covered one half of the arena. The other half held props, including a makeshift shack, the Deadwood Stagecoach, and several buffalo and “wild” horses contained in a pen.

  After two laps, Annie set her weight deep into the back of the saddle, encouraging Buck to lift his shoulders and bring his hind end under himself to come to a sliding stop in front of the prince and princess. It made Annie’s heart glad to see them smiling and clapping.

  Tapping Buck’s shoulders with her toes, Annie cued Buck to raise his forefeet into a rear. When he came down, she urged him into a run again and they began the course.

  Laying her reins on Buck’s neck, she pulled her pistols from their holsters. She used her body to navigate Buck through the serpentine course, shooting twelve of the glass balls off their tripods. She put her pistols back in their holsters and pulled her rifle out of the scabbard. Turning her hips to the left and then to the right, cueing Buck to do the same as they raced through the course, Annie shot the rest of the glass balls.

  Without picking up her reins, Annie held the rifle over her head, tucked her hips forward and Buck came to another resounding sliding stop. The crowed whooped and yelled with abandon.

  Adrenaline pulsing through her body, Annie waved to the small crowd, giving them her best show smile. To her surprise and delight, Buck lifted himself into another rear, his front legs kicking wildly in front of him.

  “You love this, don’t you, boy,” she said to him, patting his neck as he came down. Settling her rifle back into its scabbard, Annie approached the prince and princess, still out of breath from her performance.

  The Wild West crew set about clearing the course in preparation for Annie and Lillie’s shooting contest. At Annie’s approach, both the prince and princess stood, clapping with great enthusiasm. To her surprise, Annie saw Mr. and Mrs. Arthur standing too, behind the prince and princess.

  “What a wonderful little girl,” said the princess. “I so enjoy watching you ride.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Annie said with a bow of her head, the compliment tingling all the way down to her toes.

  “Hey, Miss Oakley,” Mr. Arthur yelled. “Remember us? From the ship?”

  The princess turned around, annoyed that Mr. Arthur had interrupted their conversation.

  “Yes,” said Annie. “How lovely to see you.”

  “We were anxious to see you perform,” said Mrs. Arthur, dressed in a garish shade of pink with a white fox stole wrapped around her shoulders. “The queen and the prince have been so generous. They even gifted us with a new horse in reparation for War Hero. We are simply delighted!”

  “How generous.”

  It seemed the Arthurs no longer posed any threat to the queen—if they had in the first place.

  “You are quite skilled I must say,” said the prince. “You are as good as they say you are.”

  Before Annie could thank him, Princess Alexandra said, “We’ve also heard much about your husband, Mr. Butler. You two used to perform together?”

  “Yes—but he’s retired from performing. He’s my manager now.”

  “How novel!” said the prince, raising his brows.

  “We must have you both to tea at Buckingham Palace.” Princess Alexandra clapped her hands together. />
  Annie hated to turn down such a lovely invitation, but Frank’s condition hadn’t improved.

  “I’m honored by the invitation, Your Highness, but I am afraid my husband is ill—he’s been ill since the voyage over. He’s scarcely been out of bed.”

  “Oh dear. I am sorry.” Princess Alexandra glanced at her husband, who gave her a nod. “Then, there is nothing to it. You and your husband will come stay at the palace where he will be seen by the royal physician.”

  Annie smiled, wishing she could find a graceful way to refuse. She wasn’t sure Frank would be up for a move, close as Buckingham Palace was to Earl’s Court, and she didn’t want to leave Buck—or Hulda, who would be left to Lillie’s influence. She decided she’d do what her mother always did—tell the truth.

  “I’m so honored by your invitation Your Highness, but I am responsible for my sister, and I don’t like to be far from my horse.”

  “Your sister is most welcome, and your horse can stay in our stables. You may bring a groom if you wish; we will have lodgings for them. What do you say, Miss Oakley?”

  It would be good to have Frank examined by another doctor as she wasn’t sure about Dr. Adams’s integrity anymore—and if Buck could be kept nearby, and Hulda out of Lillie’s clutches. . . .

  “I will have to check with Mr. Salisbury and the colonel, of course.”

  The announcer’s voice rang through the air introducing Bobby and Lillie. As usual, Mr. Post entered the arena to retrieve Buck. Annie bid the prince and princess farewell and handed Buck off to Mr. Post.

  Bobby and Lillie mugged for the crowd while Annie loaded her pistols.

  They started with the card trick that had made Frank so famous. Neither Bobby nor Lillie could split the card in half. Bobby, cheerful as ever, shrugged and then wowed the audience by hitting all of his targets while standing on his head, Lillie and Annie holding his ankles.

  As Bobby was about to fire off a second round, the crowd murmured with excitement, anticipating the spectacle. Annie, helping Bobby stand on his head again, suddenly felt the ground shift beneath her feet. She looked over at Lillie who was grinning for the crowd, waving her plump arms in the air.