Unbridled Dreams (14 page)
“We’re staying for an entire week,” Edna persisted. “Daddy says I can go see the Wild West every day if I want.”
Irma did her best to look disinterested. “Excuse me. I really do need to find my family.” She turned her back on Edna and walked away. The cowboy band began to play “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Finally she located Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laura, Monte and the girls. Poor Mollie looked almost as miserable as Irma felt. Aunt Laura was saying something and patting her on the shoulder while she nodded. And Minnie was talking to . . .
Orrin Knox
. . . who appeared to be fascinated by whatever Minnie was saying.
The crowd began to applaud. Shep Sterling and Lillian Smith were the bookends to Buffalo Bill’s Grand Entrance. All three were riding horses adorned with show saddles and bridles. Silver discs reflected in the sun. Fringe on the performers’ costumes swayed as the parade horses pranced toward the train. All three stars dismounted straight onto the observation platform at the back of Cody’s car. Wranglers led the horses away, the band stopped playing, and Cody motioned for silence. He waxed eloquent about how it was an honor to be able to present a true picture of life on the frontier to the rest of the world. He reintroduced Lillian Smith, the Champion Rifle Shot of the World, and Shep Sterling, the renowned King of the Cowboys. Finally, Cody thanked the people of the great state of Nebraska for sharing their sons to make the West come alive for thousands, perhaps millions, of easterners. With a last flourish of his hat and a theatrical bow, Cody ducked inside his private car. Shep and Miss Smith followed.
Irma’s heart sank. That was
it?
Shep was
gone?
Without so much as saying . . .
What
?
What did you expect him to say
? Something. Something sweet. Something . . . personal. A man didn’t just give a girl white roses and hold her while she cried and then just . . . leave. Did he? Apparently this one did. The varmint. Irma glowered at the train.
Monte and Ned strode up. While Ned shook Uncle Charlie’s hand, Monte hugged his sisters and parents and promised to write. He smiled at Aunt Laura. “And I’ll go to church every Sunday, Ma.”
In spite of her sore ribs, Irma hugged him. Her tears flowed freely as Monte picked her up and swung her around. Every single Mason was crying, too. Even Uncle Charlie’s eyes were red. With a nod and a tip of his hat, Ned said a quick good-bye and made a dash for the train.
Finally, with one last round of hugs, Monte headed for the train, but Orrin Knox intercepted him. Daddy joined them both train-side and there was more conversation until the whistle sounded and Monte climbed aboard. Members of the troupe appeared on the platform at the back of every car, waving and laughing. Shep really was leaving without saying good-bye. Irma turned away.
“A-hem.” Orrin Knox was standing so close she could feel his breath as he whispered in her ear, “Mr. Sterling asked if you’d come with me, please.” He touched her elbow and motioned for her to follow him. At the far corner of the station, he stopped. “I’ll . . . ahem . . . wait here. You . . . ahem . . .” He motioned her around the corner, where Shep waited, his hat in his hands.
“You didn’t think I was going to leave without saying good-bye, did you?”
His smile made her feel . . .
fluttery.
“I honestly didn’t know what to think when you ducked into Mr. Cody’s car. It made me feel—”
“What?” He moved closer. “What do you feel, Belle?” He traced the line of her jaw.
Belle
. She’d never forget the sound of his voice saying that name. Never.
Irma nodded. “You’d better go,” she said.
He put his hat back on and bent to kiss her. It was gentle and not really all that passionate, at least not in the way Irma had dreamed of passion. When the train whistle blew, he kissed her again, and this time he wasn’t as gentle. The second kiss in her life set Irma to trembling all the way down to the tips of her toes. She clung to him as he smiled down at her and said, “I’m glad we got that settled.”
The train began to pull out. After a quick hug, Shep charged across the platform. Jumping down, he sprinted after the last car. If it hadn’t been for the wranglers grabbing him and hauling him up, Shep Sterling would have missed the Wild West train.
Her heart pounding as if she’d just bulldogged a calf, Irma watched until the train was out of sight before looking for the rest of the family. And that was when she realized that Momma was no longer waiting in the buggy.
T
HE FOLLY OF FOOLS IS DECEIT
.
Proverbs 14:8
KJV
“
There
you are,” Momma said as she bustled toward them. “Whatever are you doing hiding all alone over here by the shipping department?”
Irma steadied herself.
You can breathe now. She obviously didn’t
see anything.
“Tut-tut now, dear,” Momma said, and slipped her arm around Irma’s waist. “I know it’s all very difficult for you saying good-bye to Monte. But you mustn’t cry. Things are going to be fine. He will write. And you know he’ll take very good care of Diamond. And in time you’ll see that it was all for the best. Now come along home.”
Was it Irma’s imagination or was Edna Hertz eyeing her? Was that a smirk? Or something more sinister? Irma watched with trepidation as Edna sashayed toward them.
“Were you able to give Mr. Sterling my message, Miss Friedrich? I saw the two of you . . .
talking.
”
Orrin Knox planted himself between the Friedrich women and Edna. Without giving Irma a chance to answer his question, he cleared his throat and said something to Momma about “asking Miss Friedrich for her assistance in arranging a future interview with Mr. Sterling—since Mr. Sterling had been to the house and seemed to be a particular friend of the family.” He continued, saying that he hoped Mrs. Friedrich didn’t mind that he had made the request of her, and that he would certainly never have done such a thing without asking permission under normal circumstances. . . . He blathered on and on until, out of the corner of her eye, Irma saw Edna Hertz roll her eyes and shrug, then retreat.
“Goodness, Mr. Knox,” Momma said, “there’s no need to explain so . . . thoroughly. Nothing could please me more than to learn that Irmagard has been of assistance to you and the newspaper.” Momma nodded at Irma. “And I’m certain she was happy to help you. Weren’t you, dear?”
Irma nodded. “I was.”
“Well then,” Momma said. “Go on, dear. Tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“What Mr. Sterling said. Whatever it was you asked on Mr.
Knox’s behalf.”
Irma could not think of one thing to say.
“Might I walk you home, Miss Friedrich—so that we might . . . ahem . . . discuss matters further?” Mr. Knox glanced at Momma. “With your permission of course, Mrs. Friedrich.”
Thirty-seven times.
Orrin Knox had effectively ruined what could have been a nice walk on a nearly perfect spring day.
“Ahem.”
Thirty-eight.
How did he stand it? Didn’t his throat feel like sandpaper by now? Couldn’t he just swallow instead of making that awful sound? Why didn’t he fiddle with his fob chain when he was nervous, or twirl his walking stick, or acquire any number of other less annoying habits. How did the other men in the newspaper office stand working with him?
That’s probably why he gets all the traveling
assignments.
Irma had given up trying to make pleasant conversation a few minutes into the walk home. She’d begun to walk faster, honing in on the gate in the picket fence. It was in view now, just a little—
“Ahem. I . . . ahem . . . I hope you know I can be trusted to keep a confidence, Miss Friedrich. That is if . . . if there’s anything— anything at all. A journalist prides himself on being trustworthy. At least . . . ahem . . .
this
journalist does.”
Irma lowered her parasol and, closing it, rested the shaft on one shoulder. She could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. Having been her defender at the train station, was Orrin Knox about to use what he knew against her? What did he expect her to say?
Knox took his hat off. He cleared his throat. Again. “What I mean is . . . ahem . . . any fool could see that Shep Sterling finds you very attractive. Of course . . . ahem . . . anyone would see . . . I mean, any man in his right mind would see . . . Ahem.”
If the man cleared his throat one more time she was going to brain him with her parasol. “Get to the point, Mr. Knox. What is it you have to say about Mr. Sterling and me?”
“Did he say anything about England?”
“
England?
”
“Yes. England.” Knox looked around them and leaned closer. “I assume he had something very important—something special—to tell you. That’s why he asked me to . . . ahem . . . stand guard. But of course I didn’t eavesdrop. So I was wondering—is it official? Is the contract signed for the Wild West to go to England?”
“The Wild West is going to
England
?!”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can tell me—whether they are. Ahem. Or aren’t, that is.” He paused. “I know for a fact that when they were forming their partnership, Mr. Cody’s partner, Mr. Salsbury, said that he would one day get the Wild West to Europe. And with Queen Victoria’s Jubilee next year and the exposition planned there, the timing would be perfect. I thought maybe Mr. Sterling had said something to you right before he . . . uh . . .”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Knox, but the subject of the Wild West itinerary did not come up when Shep was saying goodbye.”
“You would tell me, wouldn’t you? Ahem. I mean about England.”
“What possible reason would I have to keep news like that to myself?”
“If he writes you—when he writes—and there’s news of England . . . will you tell me? Please? It’s very important. To be the first journalist to report such big news—it would mean . . . ever so much.” He cleared his throat. “And in case you were wondering, I did see the kiss—but that secret is safe with me. I was only interested in the story. Of England.”
They were at the front gate. Irma put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Knox. Sincerely.”
“Why, uh . . . ahem.” He blushed furiously and bobbed his head. “Of course. I . . . ahem. I would never want to cause you any difficulty. That’s why I stepped in when Edna Hertz . . . She may have seen—that’s why I stepped in.” He paused to take a breath. “I like you, Miss Friedrich. Not . . . not the way . . . ahem. As a friend. Not that you aren’t a lovely . . . ahem.”
“I’d like to be your friend, too, Mr. Knox. And please call me Irma.”
He cleared his throat and bobbed his head. “Yes. Well. Ahem.” He sighed and mopped his forehead again. “I’m sorry I’m so . . . ahem . . . awkward. I’ve always been this way with girls. Women. Females.”
Irma smiled. “And yet that day at my party you talked to Shep Sterling for nearly an hour in the presence of many women, and I didn’t hear one
ahem
.”
He shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I only have this trouble when I’m put on the spot with a girl. Ahem. Woman.”
“You aren’t in the least bit interested in me as a woman, are you?”
“I . . . ahem. I’m not certain I understand. Ahem.” Knox mopped his face again.
“Of course you do,” Irma said. “You understand perfectly. You’re just too shy to say it. It’s all right. I’m not in the least bit interested in you, either.”
He smiled. “Well, I, uh . . . ahem . . . guess I knew that. Even before today, I mean. Anyone could tell that. From the way you look when he’s around. Mr. Sterling, that is.”
“So why are you still so nervous around me?”
He shrugged.
“Is it Momma? She can be determined. Hard to convince to give up on things she wants.”
He glanced toward the house. “It wouldn’t do for me to offend the wife of one of the most powerful men in town by appearing to refuse to court her daughter.”
Irma didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t really ever considered Daddy as being powerful or that people might be afraid to offend Momma—because of Daddy. Surely Mr. Knox was overreacting. She patted his arm again. “It’s all right. Really. Thank you for rescuing me earlier and for walking me home. I’ll be happy to let you know if I learn some inside news about the Wild West’s schedule. And now”—she motioned toward the house—“I imagine we’re fueling Momma’s matchmaking fires by standing out here so long. So”—she held out her hand—“to friendship.”
“To friendship.” They shook hands. “And please call me Orrin.”
Irma was halfway to the front door when Orrin called her name. When she turned back around he was tucking his handkerchief in his pocket. He adjusted the glasses on his nose and tilted his hat until it looked positively stylish.
“Would you give my regards to Miss Mason—Miss Minnie Mason—the next time you see her?”
