Ticket to Tomorrow, page 20
part #1 of A Fair to Remember Series
Annie smiled, glad she had changed her mind, for Silas's sake as well as her own. She needed something like this, something that would drive the ugliness of the afternoon's attack out of her thoughts.
A few feet away, two couples slid onto benches on the other side of a wooden partition, eyeing Annie and Silas with ill-concealed curiosity. Annie sat a little straighter in her padded chair, keenly aware of the attention they were attracting, just by being seated in Colonel Cody's private box.
With her interest in Annie and Silas apparently exhausted, one of the ladies leaned toward the woman beside her. "Did you hear? That high-and-mighty Spanish princess left town today. It was in the evening paper."
Her neighbor clucked her tongue. "Good riddance, says I. Imagine making such a fuss over someone who's just flesh and blood, same as you and me."
The first woman tittered. "Isn't that the truth? I guess Chicago will just have to get used to doing without royalty."
"Oh, I don't know." The other woman nodded her head in the direction of Colonel Cody's box. "Who do you suppose they are? Must be someone pretty highfalutin to rate that kind of special treatment." She shot an envious glance toward Annie, then turned back to her friend.
Annie sat stunned. Highfalutin? She and Silas? Ludicrous as it was, the assumption stung. How could they assume such a thing about her? They don't even know me. The thought struck her—any more than I know the Infanta.
What was it the second woman said in her disdain for the princess? Ah yes, "flesh and blood, just like you and me." The truth of the statement struck home. Had the Infanta Eulalia felt the same way when people talked about her, when they made unfounded presumptions and whispered behind their hands?
What would it be like to have to endure that for a lifetime? She'd been uncomfortable enough with that kind of attention after only a few minutes. Having a royal bloodline wouldn't serve as a shield against the wounds suffered from barbed comments flung her way.
Lord, forgive me. Another thought caught her up short. When it came down to it, the Infanta truly was just flesh and blood, a woman not so different from Annie herself. She would have to stand before God one day, just like every other mortal who ever lived. A claim to earthly royalty wouldn't sway judgment on that day. The only thing that would matter was whether or not she was a child of the heavenly King.
While she wrestled with these sobering thoughts, a man stepped out and bellowed in a stentorian voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The show is about to begin!"
Before his voice faded away, hoofbeats thundered through the arena as hundreds of riders burst through the open end of the stadium and filled the arena. Annie sat spellbound as cowboys and Indians, gauchos and Cossacks, horsemen carrying flags of nations from around the world galloped in an enormous circle, forming a mighty pinwheel of man and beast.
When the last of them had taken his position, a lone rider bearing the American flag galloped in, followed by Colonel Cody himself, resplendent in buckskins, thigh-high boots, and fringed gauntlets, astride a white stallion.
The audience cheered and rose to their feet as one at his entry. The colonel made a stately circuit of the arena, bowing graciously to one and all. When he drew even with the box, he paused long enough to tip his hat to Annie and Silas, drawing even more inquisitive stares their way.
Annie felt a flush creep up her neck. She smiled and nodded back to him, but her eyes kept roving over the sea of horsemen, seeking one particular face.
And there he was. Halfway across the arena, she spotted him. The warmth in her cheeks deepened when she realized he was gazing straight at her. Nick sent a smile in her direction, a smile meant just for her. The roar of the crowd receded into the distance. Somehow in the midst of that mass of humanity, Annie felt as if only the two of them existed.
Colonel Cody's voice cut into her reverie as he took a position in front of the assembly and shouted at the top of his voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce you to the Rough Riders of the World!" The audience responded with deafening applause. Colonel Cody swept his hand in a grand gesture, and the riders wheeled and exited.
Annie's eyes never left Nick. She watched him ride along in a smooth, fluid motion that seemed to make him at one with his mount. He raised he hand to her when he reached the opening at the end of the arena, and then he was gone. Annie caught her breath and sat back in her chair, wondering if the rest of the show could possibly live up to the excitement of that moment.
For the next hour, she sat enthralled while Annie Oakley shot glass balls tossed into the air and otherwise proved her claim to be the greatest woman sharpshooter in the world. She watched in awe while cowboys rode bucking broncos and roped steers. She cheered wildly during the horseback races, then held her breath at a living representation of an Indian attack on a settler's cabin.
By the time the intermission arrived, she felt exhausted by the sheer glory of it all. Silas tottered to his feet and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. "I don't believe I've had that much excitement at one time in my life. I wonder if the second half can be as thrilling as the first."
Annie smiled. Of course it could: Nick would be in it. She had already found and marked the page in the program that described his upcoming act.
Silas took a deep breath. "I feel the need to move about. Would you care to join me?"
"What a good idea." Annie didn't need a second invitation. Padded chairs or no, she welcomed the opportunity to walk around. It looked like nearly everyone else had the same idea. She descended the steps from the box behind Silas, and they joined the crowd in walking the length of the arena.
At the farthest end, Annie spied a little alcove near the grandstand stairs where the crush wasn't so dense. She slipped into it gratefully and leaned against a part of the scaffolding.
Silas followed. He bounced on his toes, as eager as a boy. "I tell you, when that warrior grabbed the settler's hair and raised his knife, it took my breath away."
Annie nodded, half her attention focused on a conversation taking place just behind her.
"I thought you would enjoy the show. I'm glad you agree it lives up to its reputation."
Annie narrowed her eyes. Where had she heard that voice before? She leaned her head back and listened intently.
"A good way to soften me up before you try to loosen my purse strings, eh?" A hearty chuckle followed.
Annie waited for the man she had heard first to speak again.
"It's always nice when you can mix business with pleasure. But since you brought it up, let me point out that our sugarcane production is increasing all the time. And we expect some big opportunities to open up in the near future that will mean major growth for the company."
Annie closed her eyes. She recognized the voice, but from where?
"That's all very promising," the second speaker said. "But I've heard things are a bit dicey between Cuba and Spain. What's to keep it all from blowing up in your face?"
The first man lowered his voice so much that Annie had to strain to hear it. "Put your fears aside on that score. I have it on good authority that the situation in Cuba will be stabilizing very soon. I'm only offering this opportunity to a few select investors. You're one of the first I've contacted..." The voices faded as if the men were moving away.
Annie shook her head. She almost had it. Her mind conjured up the image of a dapper man with dark eyes. Her eyelids snapped open. Frost! Could it be him?
She leaned around the scaffolding to see. Yes, there he was. He stood talking to a well-dressed man in a pin-striped suit. At that moment, he lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes. Annie flinched at his cold expression and turned away, eager to put some distance between the odious man and herself.
She plucked at Silas's sleeve. "Let's get back to our seats. The second half should be starting soon."
* * *
Annie's attention remained riveted on the next few acts, letting the thrill of the buffalo hunt and the Cossacks' feats of daring took the distaste of seeing Frost from her mind.
The last of the Russian riders charged out of the arena. A crew of workers moved in swiftly, setting up standards that held Japanese lanterns at intervals around the perimeter. Their work done, they darted out again. A hush fell over the audience. Annie clasped her hands tightly in her lap. This was the moment she had been waiting for.
Heralded by the blast of a trumpet fanfare, Nick galloped into the arena, a coiled bullwhip in one hand. With a flick of his wrist, the coil snaked out in a graceful arc, and a resounding crack shattered the silence.
Around the stadium he rode, and with each crack of the whip, a lantern dropped to the ground, neatly clipped from its hanger. He completed his circuit with nary a miss, then turned his mount to face the center of the arena where a hoop hung suspended well above the ground. A worker ran out with a torch in his hand and used it to set the top half of the hoop aflame.
With only a moment's pause to recoil the bullwhip and hang it over his saddle horn, Nick sent his horse on a headlong dash straight toward the flaming ring. Annie leaped to her feet and pressed her hands over her mouth, unable to tear her gaze away as he pulled himself up to a standing position in the saddle.
The rushing steed drew nearer to the ring of fire, and Annie thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. What was he going to do? Even from this distance, she could see Nick poise himself in the saddle. Not a sound could be heard other than the pounding hooves.
The instant the horse passed under the lower edge of the hoop, Nick leaped into the air, vaulting through the center of the fiery circle to land back safely in the saddle on the other side.
He slid quickly to a sitting position and brought the horse to a sliding stop not ten feet in front of Cody's box. Doffing his hat in acknowledgment of the thunderous roar from the crowd, he gave Annie a slow wink that set the blood throbbing in her veins.
He was gone again before she could catch her breath, let alone respond to his salute.
The rest of the show—the thwarted robbery of the Deadwood Stagecoach, the attack on the immigrant train, and the Grand Salute—passed with Annie paying no more than fleeting attention to the spectacle. Her thoughts were consumed with Nick and his amazing ride.
She basked in a flush of pride and wonder. If she felt this way, what must Nick experience at every performance? No wonder he wanted to continue with the show.
The reminder brought a rush of emptiness. Nick belonged here. This was his life—and how could she ever fit into that?
She and Silas remained in their seats after the other patrons filed out. Workers came out to clear up the area and glanced at them curiously but didn't bother them. Obviously, being a guest of Colonel Cody's carried its privileges.
Silas, still bouncing with excitement, turned to talk to a couple of men who lingered near the edge of the box. Annie waved away his invitation for her to join them, glad for the chance to sit quietly and try to sort her thoughts.
It seemed but a moment before Nick reappeared at the edge of the stadium and beckoned to her. Assuring herself Silas was still occupied with his new acquaintances, she hurried over to where Nick waited. He drew her back into a corner under the grandstand where they had a modicum of privacy and clasped her hands in his strong grip.
"How did you like the show?"
She tightened her fingers around his. "Oh, it was wonderful! But you nearly scared me to death. My heart was up in my throat when I saw you jump through that fiery ring." Her heart seemed to be up to some other tricks this evening. Just his nearness was enough to make it race.
"I'm glad. I've been working hard on that one." He fell silent. Stepping backward, he pulled her farther into the shadows and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I can't tell you what it meant for me to see you out there, watching." His voice took on a husky timbre. "It seems like that's been all I've had on my mind the whole day—wanting to see you again."
"I'm here now."
Nick nodded. "So you are." He cupped his hands behind her head and lowered his mouth to hers.
All her doubts and fears melted away. This was right. They belonged together. Somehow, they would find a way to make it work. She pressed her cheek against his chest and felt the beat of his heart through his buckskin jacket.
Nick sighed. "This is no good."
Annie jerked her head back. "What do you mean?"
He waved his arm toward the arena where workers moved to shut things down for the night. "There's a crowd, always a crowd. We need some time away, just the two of us."
He ran his hands up and down her arms, sending a shiver of delight coursing through her. "What would you say to meeting me tomorrow..." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "At the clock tower..." She closed her eyes and felt his next kiss graze her left ear. "About ten-thirty?"
His lips swept across her cheek and pressed against her mouth once more. "Do you think you could manage that?"
Annie nodded, unable to speak. She rested her forehead against his chest and clutched the front of his jacket. Her knees felt as though they had turned to putty.
Nick wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. "We can walk down the beach and find a quiet spot where we can be alone." He trailed his fingers along her cheek. "We have some things we need to talk about."
Annie couldn't find her voice to give a reply, so she answered him with a kiss.
* * *
"Nick! Hey, Rutherford, wait up!" Lost in a happy daze of plans for the morrow, it took a moment for Nick to register the words. He pivoted on his heel and saw two men hurrying toward him.
He squinted, trying to make the figures out. They drew nearer, finally entering the bright circle cast by one of the gas lanterns that offered light to the encampment.
"Tom Harper, is that you?" He grinned, recognizing a pal from his ranching days in Wyoming. "What are you doing here?"
Harper slapped him on the back and took a moment to catch his breath. "I rode in on the train with a shipment of cattle. Decided I might as well stop over for a couple of days to see the fair and the show. You've made quite a name for yourself back home, you know. It'll be something to tell folks I got to see you in action."
He gestured to his companion. "Meet Fletcher King. He helped me bring those cows and I talked him into coming to the show tonight." He elbowed the older man. "It didn't take too much persuading, especially when I told him I knew one of the stars. Right, Fletch?"
Nick studied King, whose seamed face spoke of years of toil and hardship, and extended his hand. "Glad to meet you, sir. I hope you enjoyed the performance."
King shifted the wad of tobacco in his cheek and spat on the ground. Avoiding Nick's eyes, he stared off into the distance. "You got some of it down, all right," he finally said. "There were stagecoach robberies and Indian raids aplenty in those days."
He hooked his thumbs in his belt and turned to face Nick directly. "But I was there, son. I was part of it." His voice roughened. "There was plenty of wrongdoing on both sides, I'm sorry to say. And out there, people died. When men went down, they didn't get back up again when all the shooting was over. And for those of us lucky enough to be alive at the end..."
He gave Nick a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate his soul. "Well, there wasn't any grand music playing. No crowds standing and cheering either. We just waited for the dust to settle so we could bury our dead, knowing some of our best friends were gone and we'd never see 'em again. Not until Judgment Day at least." He scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure not in time for the next show."
Silence stretched out after he finished. Finally Nick found his voice. "You're right," he said slowly. "I've seen some of that myself. Our intent is to give people just a taste of what life was like on the frontier. We never meant to make light of what happened there."
King patted him on the shoulder with a gnarled hand. "Don't take it too hard. You seem like a good sort, and I'm sure you meant well. I didn't mean to stomp on your toes before I barely made your acquaintance." He scraped his palm along his stubbly cheek. "That's just the opinion of a tired old man who's lived a lot of years and seen too much."
Tom Harper edged to one side. "I guess we better be going. I just wanted to say hello. It was sure good to see you again."
Nick clasped his friend's hand in a firm grip. "I'm glad you stopped by." Turning to King, he added, "It was good to meet you, sir. And I want to thank you for saying what you did. You've given me a lot to think about."
* * *
John James Frost strode down the dimly lit street, feeling like he might explode at any moment. That woman! Had she been listening to him? Watching him? The prospect made his stomach roil.
He left the streetlights behind and turned the corner toward his lodging house. The near darkness gave him a renewed sense of security. No one could watch him here.
His breath hissed between his teeth. What was she up to, always in the wrong place at the wrong time? And just when all his carefully laid plans were ready to be set in motion. His chest tightened. It almost seemed as though fate was playing a cruel joke on him. His foot struck an empty bottle, sending it clinking off into the darkness.
But fate had ordained this plan. He felt it, had known it from the first. His breathing eased again. Yes, it was foreordained. He would go ahead as he intended. Wasn't his a righteous cause? Wasn't it considered good, even noble, to end oppression?
And if he himself derived a benefit, as well, who could say anything against that? It would only be his just reward. A liberator deserved his due.
A shadowy figure darted across his path. Frost sucked in his breath, then let it out slowly. A cat, only a cat. Surely not an omen.
He forced himself to remain calm. Once Cuba had been set free from Spain's tyranny and his personal fortune had been assured, he would never again have to lower himself to stay in such squalid surroundings in order to remain out of the limelight. The world and all the luxury it had to offer would be his. The only drawback in his grand scheme was the people he had to work with.
