The Jeweled Spur (30 page)

This was rather a sore spot with Cody, who sometimes used fine sand in the manner of buckshot. “What else can you do?”

With a grin, the tall man went forty feet away, pulled a cigarette out, and put it between his lips. Annie instantly lifted her rifle and fired, cutting the cigarette off not an inch from her husband’s lips. Then Butler held up a dime between his fingers, and she fired again. Finally, he held up a playing card and turned it sideways. “You can’t make that shot!” Buffalo Bill exclaimed. But even as he spoke, the rifle exploded and the card was cut in two. Everyone who was watching burst into applause.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Butler called out.

As he spoke, Annie picked up a small hand mirror, held it in front of her with her left hand, and with her rifle barrel
resting on her right shoulder, aimed backward. Butler called out, “Are you ready, Annie?”

“Ready,” she answered.

He rotated his right hand, feeding out string in an ever-widening circle, the blue glass sphere attached to the other end whistling faster and faster, making a circle ten feet in diameter. When the shrill whir was almost ear shattering, the rifle cracked. The golf-ball-sized globe exploded in a shower of glittering dust. Again, the applause went up, and Buffalo Bill demanded, “Where did you learn to handle a rifle like that?”

“I used to shoot quail on my father’s farm in Ohio,” Annie smiled prettily. “I never thought it was anything special until they asked me to take part in turkey shoots.”

“Tell me, can you shoot from horseback?”

“Yes.”

“At dead gallop?”

She nodded and looked him in the eye. She wore her dark hair brushed behind her ears and had a serious expression.

“Annie don’t brag,” said Butler. “Colonel, she can hit anything from anywhere. Her specialty is splitting a playing card at fifty paces.”

Buffalo Bill Cody stared at the young woman and said intently, “Come back to my tent, you two. I think we can work something out.”

For the next two weeks, Annie and her husband, Frank, performed, and it was obvious that she was a drawing card for the show. Only rarely did Salsbury put up an individual’s name, but he had thousands of flyers printed up now with the name “Annie Oakley, Best Champion Rifle Shot In America.”

The pair had their own tent, which they put up next to that of Laurie and Leona’s, and in the course of those days, Annie and Laurie became close friends. Leona was jealous of Annie, of course, but did all her complaining to Laurie. Laurie discovered that there was a natural modesty to Annie Oakley, as she liked to be called. “Fame certainly never went
to her head,” Laurie told Sam one day. “She’s the most modest person I ever saw.”

One evening after the three o’clock performance was over, Laurie heard a voice calling her. She had been lying down in her tent, resting, and sat up at once and came outside. “Hello, Con,” she nodded. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, shifting his weight. “Could you take a little walk with me?”

At once Laurie was apprehensive. “Why—I don’t know, Con. I really have things to do.”

He smiled at her crookedly, saying, “You don’t lie too well, do you, Laurie?”

She flushed and shook her head. “Not too well.” Then she smiled and said, “All right. Just a short one.”

The two walked around the perimeter of the corrals, discussing the horses, and Laurie spoke with praise about Annie Oakley.

“She’s a fine shot. I never saw a better,” Con said.

They finally arrived at a place that had some privacy, located between the corrals where the buffalo and the horses were penned up. Leaning on the fence, Laurie began talking about the horses, pointing out this one and that one. She spoke rather rapidly, for she had an idea of why Con wanted to go for a walk, and finally her fears were realized. “I told you, Laurie, I’d come back,” he said. He turned to face her and there was an eager gleam in his eyes. “I don’t want to push you, but I’m getting on in years.”

“How old are you, Con?” she grinned.

“Well, actually, I’m twenty-eight, but, I mean, look at it this way, Laurie. A lot of fellows, at my age, have found their place. They’ve got steady jobs, a home, marriage, a family. I’ve been roaming around since I was sixteen years old, and I’m telling you, it’s getting a little tiresome.”

“I’m tired myself,” admitted Laurie.

Instantly, he said, “Sure you are. You weren’t made for
this kind of life. Like you said, it’s been fun, something to remember, but it’s time to make a change.”

Laurie said nervously, “Well, I’m only twenty so I guess there’s no real rush.”

Con shut his mouth abruptly, and a hint of the temper that he had confessed to appeared in his eyes. They grew narrow and his lips tightened into a white line. “I was right, wasn’t I? About you and Jim Logan.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Laurie said quickly. “He’s just a friend, that’s all. Just like you’re a friend.” She saw, however, that her explanation did not satisfy Groner. He stood there, teetering back and forth. She knew that he longed to express what was in his mind physically. It was what he did best. Whenever he went into action, it was with everything he had, whether it was riding in a horse race or striking the tents; everything he did was with all of his strength. She had never seen him resting, not ever.

Groner bit his lips and shook his head. “I love you, Laurie, and that’s all I can say. Maybe you don’t love me so much right now, but I can make you happy. There ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you. If you want a ranch, we’ll get one. If you want to go east, we’ll go east. I’ve been everywhere, so it don’t matter much to me—as long as I can have a woman like you.”

“I’m sorry, Con.” Laurie bit the words off nervously. “It’s the greatest honor that anyone has ever done me, to ask me to marry them. Every woman appreciates that. But I couldn’t make you happy.”

“Why couldn’t you?” asked Con, trying to control the strain in his voice.

“Because you deserve a woman who will love you just for yourself, and I just haven’t fallen in love with you.”

“I don’t know about all that, Laurie. All the pretty notions about falling in love is pretty much in books.”

“Then why could you say you love me?” she countered instantly. And seeing that he was off guard, said, “I can’t
talk about it anymore, Con. I’m sorry, but I’m telling you that you need to look for another girl. I may not ever marry, certainly not for years.”

She turned and walked away, and if she had twisted her head and looked back, she would have seen the anger mixed with disappointment flash out of Con Groner’s eyes.

She never regained her composure, not all day long, and everyone noticed it. Finally, Sam said, “Cody, Laurie’s got something she can’t quite swallow. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Really? Well, I haven’t noticed.” He looked over to where Laurie was standing beside Star, after having practiced her ride and her tricks, and said, “Come to think of it, she does look kind of down and out.”

“Why don’t you go over and talk to her,” Sam urged. “You two are old friends, and everybody needs a friend at some time.”

“Okay, I’ll go and see what I can do.”

Cody went over to where Laurie was standing and said cheerfully, “Hi, Laurie. The tricks went well today. I was watching.”

“I guess so,” she said, tuning and leading Star away toward the corral.

Cody accompanied her, keeping up a cheerful line of talk. He unsaddled for her, and then turned Star into the feedlot. “Let me show you a new trick I’ve been working on. I’ve about got it worked out. It’ll bring the house down.”

“I don’t think so. Not right now.”

They were walking slowly, and her eyes were on the ground as she spoke. Her voice was so low he had to lean forward to catch it. Taking her arm, he turned around and said, “Come on. Let’s go somewhere where we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“We need to talk,” he insisted. “Is Leona in your tent?”

“No, she went to town.” Cody took her arm more firmly
and walked toward her tent. Laurie made no resistance, and when they were inside, he turned to face her.

“What’s wrong with you, Laurie? You’re just not yourself.”

“Nothing you could help with,” she answered shortly.

“Maybe I could if you’ll just tell me what it is.”

Laurie could not tell him the real problem. Instead of answering his question, she looked at him and said, “Have you decided to write your parents?”

“No. I’ve told you I can’t do it.”

“I got a letter from your mother three days ago. I’ve been wondering whether to show it to you or not, but now I guess I will.” Moving over to the chest beside the foot of her cot, she opened it, took out a letter, and handed it to him. As he read the brief letter, she studied his face, thinking,
Why does he have to be so stubborn? Why can’t he give just a little bit?
Then when he was finished, and he handed the letter back, his face frozen in a tense expression, she shook her head. “It’s killing her, Cody—and your stepfather, too. I don’t think it’s right, your not letting them know where you are.”

“It wouldn’t do any good.”

Angered by his response, Laurie snapped at him, “It doesn’t mean anything that your mother is praying every day of her life that you’ll be all right, that you’ll be safe?”

“God doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Cody shot back adamantly. He stared at her and shook his head. “I put God out of this thing a long time ago. A man just can’t ever depend on God.”

“What do you believe in then, Cody?” she demanded.

“A man,” he said through clenched teeth, “just has to take what he can get.”

A quick anger, almost violent, ran through Laurie. It was only then she realized that if she could be so angry with him, there must be something deeper between them. Refusing to think about it, she said in a shrill voice, “A man takes what he can get? I guess you mean Leona?”

A flush rose to Cody’s face, and he stared at her. “Yes. I guess I mean that.”

Instantly, Cody regretted his words, for he saw that he had hurt her perhaps worse than if he’d slapped her across the cheek. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she said at once, “I’m going to lie down. Please leave.”

He wanted to speak, to tell her that he didn’t mean it, for he knew he owed everything to this young woman, but there was something stubborn in him, and he nodded and said, “All right,” and left the tent.

****

Annie and Frank returned from their shopping trip, and Butler left at once to work on the props for the next show. Annie went inside and started to change clothes, then paused abruptly. Lifting her head, she listened intently.
That sounds like a woman crying,
she thought. She listened harder, moving over to the side of the tent that bordered that of the two young women, and this time it was unmistakable. Without thinking, Annie left her tent, walked over to the other, and said, “It’s me—Annie. Can I come in?”

She waited a moment, and then the flap of the tent opened. Laurie stared at her, then dropped her eyes. “Come in,” she said as she turned and sat down on the cot. She looked up at Annie, her eyes bottomless pits of woe, and said, “I’m not very good company right now.”

Annie immediately felt a great compassion for this young woman. They had become good friends, and Annie Oakley did not have many good friends. Her whole adult life had been spent traveling. But now she and Laurie had eaten together, worked together, and spent some time alone with each other. That was very precious to Annie, so she sat down beside Laurie, put her arms around her, and said, “You’re not the first one to cry. I’ve done it myself.”

“Have you, Annie?” asked Laurie, relieved to have someone to talk to about it.

“Oh yes. Sometimes, before I met Frank, I got so lonely I’d just go off and cry myself to sleep. Then, even after we married, I’ve had times when I’ve felt the same.”

Laurie looked at her and said, “Tell me about what it’s like to love a man, Annie.”

Annie was not too shocked, for she had carefully watched the young woman and seen that many of the cowboys played up to her, especially Con Groner. She had also seen that when the cowboy named Jim Logan came anywhere near Laurie, the girl’s face became very watchful and oftentimes lighted up. She was too wise to make mention of it, but she began to speak. “Most women,” she said, “marry out of desperation. Maybe that’s the way it has to be. What else is there for a woman to do in this country? She can either be a school-teacher, or a nurse, or maybe a servant. Other than that, what choice does she have but to get married?”

“I could never do that,” Laurie said, clamping her teeth together. She shook her head, sending her hair sweeping down the back of her neck. “I’d rather be an old maid.”

“Let me tell you about Frank and me,” Annie said. She told the story of how they had met, and had known from the very beginning, almost, that they were in love. And how she had been young and innocent, and how he had been so gentle with her that marriage, to her, had been a joy. “That’s what you need, Laurie. A man like my Frank. One that will love you and cherish you and think of you first.”

The two women sat on the cot for a long time. Annie’s soft voice was hardly audible, except to the young woman beside her. Finally, Laurie looked up, dashed the tears from her eyes, and attempted a smile. “Thank you, Annie. You’re a comfort.”

Annie Oakley was not an older woman with years of experience and counsel. She herself looked no more than seventeen, younger than Laurie. And yet, she had managed to drive the sorrow and grief, at least temporarily, out of her friend.

“You’ll find a husband. I know you will. Just wait till you’re sure you’ve got the right one.”

For a long time after Annie left, Laurie sat on the cot, thinking about the difficulties of life. Finally, she muttered, “It was easier back at the Fort. Then all I had to worry about was a dog named Ugly!”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“You Listen to Me Preach—And I’ll Watch You Shoot!”

As the Wild West Show of Buffalo Bill Cody made its way to ever larger and larger cities, Annie Oakley became the star of the show. Her shooting of card targets gave rise to the slang term “Annie Oakley” for a pass or a complementary ticket, often punched so that they could be identified while counting receipts. One small card target that she used was about five by two inches in size, with a small picture of Annie at one end, and a one inch, heart-shaped bull’s-eye at the other. Such cards, after being hit, were thrown into the audience as souvenirs, and a wild scramble usually took place for the treasured items.