Unbridled Dreams (34 page)

“Thank you, sir,” Belle croaked. He was pleased . . . right? Then why were those beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead?

Bill pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and held it up in the moonlight to read the time. Tucking it back into place he said quietly, “That being said, Miss Belle, I want you to understand something
very clearly.
If you weren’t Otto Friedrich’s daughter, you’d be packed up and on the train headed for home tomorrow morning.”

Belle caught her breath.

Cody pointed toward the mare. “A good bronc—and by that I mean one that can be counted on to buck and still behave like something less than a son of Satan around its handlers—is worth about two thousand dollars to me.” He paused. “Do you
have
two thousand dollars, Miss Belle?”

“N-no. Sir.”

“I thought not.” Cody nodded. “In the interest of making certain you understand what’s just happened here, let me clarify something. I am looking forward to introducing Liberty Belle to my audience. I am hoping that she has a long and very successful career with the Wild West. As I see it, there are really only two things that will prevent that from happening. The first is beyond our control, the second is not.” He paused. “Do you want to know what those two things are?”

Belle nodded.

Cody held up his index finger. “One. Injury. This Wild West business is dangerous. We do our best to make it as safe as possible, but horses slip, buffalo charge, and lightning strikes.”

Belle nodded.

“Now, the second thing that will—and I urge you to understand just how distinctly I am saying that word
will
. The second thing that
will
prevent Liberty Belle’s introduction to the Wild West audience— and is completely within her ability to control—is insubordination.” He paused. “This Wild West I’ve created is a fine-tuned mechanism, Miss Belle, and I can’t have my employees deciding they know better about this or that and straying from the fold.” He nodded toward Blaze. “She’s a fine horse, and I understand your attachment. But she’s
my
horse. Now, you remember that and we won’t have to have this conversation again.” He tilted his head and stared down at her. “The fact is, Belle, we
won’t
have this conversation again. Will we?”

Belle shook her head. She was too near tears to trust her voice.

Cody patted her shoulder. “So we both agree that when you take that hackamore off”—he nodded at Blaze—“that’ll be the last contact you have with
my
mare.”

Belle nodded again. She watched Cody walk away, his head held high, the tip of his cigar glowing orange in the dark.

Helen tucked her shirt in and sat down to pull on her boots, then looked at Belle. “How’d your little tea party with Blaze and Bill turn out last night—if you don’t mind my asking.”

Belle frowned. “You spied on me?”

“Honey, you have got to know by now that I am the worst mother hen on the lot. And in case you’ve forgotten, the female of the species wandering the back lot after dark alone is
strictly
against the rules on that contract you signed a couple months back. So yes, I spied on you and will continue to do so whenever and wherever I think you’re fixing to get yourself fired.” She stood up. “I assume from the fact you’re getting dressed for breakfast and not packing your things that you aren’t fired.”

Belle pulled on a boot. “No. I’m not fired. Happy birthday to me. And I’d rather not talk about it.”

Nodding, Helen bent down and pulled something wrapped in tissue from beneath her cot and plunked it on the table. “Happy birthday to you.” Belle opened it and exclaimed over the beautifully beaded hatband. Helen grinned. “The Shepherd helped me decide on the design.” She winked. “In case you need a reason to collect a birthday kiss or anything.”

“Shep has made it very clear that he’s a gentleman and that gentlemen don’t do such things without the blessing of the parents.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Or something like that. I don’t remember his exact reasoning. Anyway, the gist of what he had to say pretty much guarantees there will be no kissing.”

Helen chuckled a response and stepped to the tent entrance. As Belle sat down to put the new band on her hat, she saw Helen wave at someone, and just as she pulled her hat on, Shep showed up. “Happy birthday,” he said, and handed her a copy of the Wild West program. He pointed to where a red bookmark showed. “Open it up.”

Belle opened the program. Someone had written the name
Liberty
Belle
in the lineup.

“Bill and Nate decided the Fourth of July was the perfect day to introduce Liberty Belle to the Wild West crowd.”

Helen grinned. “What he ain’t tellin’ you is that Bill and Nate decided after this big galoot darned near threatened to quit if they didn’t put you in on your birthday.”

And I nearly ruined it all just last night.
Clutching the program to her chest, Belle stood on tiptoe and kissed Shep on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. She kissed his other cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled down at her. “Just prove me right today by showin’ ’em what you got.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen . . . Miss . . . Liberty . . . Belle!”

Even Diamond seemed excited about the moment. Tossing his head, he gave a little half rear and charged into the arena. Belle gripped the flagpole holder tight and glanced up to see that the flag was unfurled as Diamond did first one, then two laps of the arena. They were in the spotlight the entire time, and while Belle couldn’t see the crowd, she could hear them cheering and applauding. At the end of the second lap, Monte stepped out from behind the curtain just long enough to take the flagpole and holder from her. “You look great!” he shouted, and then he stepped behind the curtain, and Belle and Diamond were alone in the spotlight.

Her heart pounding, Belle stood up in the stirrups and waved her hat to the crowd. They responded with polite applause, then quieted again as Belle gathered the reins. Diamond tossed his head and whickered.
This is it. Here we are.
What was it Shep had said earlier?
Show ’em what you’ve got.
Belle leaned down and patted Diamond on the neck. “All right, old friend,” she said. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got.”

And they did. Belle couldn’t remember a time when she and Diamond had been so in sync. It was as if the horse anticipated everything she wanted just a second before she asked it of him, and as a result, the entire routine was executed with a precision that had the crowd alternately cheering appreciation or gasping in amazement.

When the routine was finished, and she and Diamond whirled around in front of the curtain and Belle took off her hat and waved to the crowd, she thought her heart just might burst with joy.

As soon as she passed behind the curtain, the arena manager sent her back out to take another bow, and then another. Finally she was allowed to dismount, and as she slid to the ground, Shep came up behind her. When she turned around, he laughed aloud and picked her up and swung her around and for a brief moment forgot his own rules about kissing. And that was the best birthday gift of all.

C
HAPTER
20

I
F POSSIBLE, SO FAR AS IT DEPENDS ON YOU
,
BE AT PEACE WITH ALL MEN
.
Romans 12:18
NASB

You’d think she could have at least been in the wardrobe tent sewing for Ma Clemmons on the day it happened. But no, it had to happen one of the times Ma had given all the girls a day off and they’d gone into the city. It had to happen on the one day Belle decided to hightail it over to the stables rather than going with the rest.

So there she was, knee deep in manure, her hair falling out of its braids, her boots caked with filth, with sweat rolling down her face as she shoveled refuse onto a wagon when Shep called, “Hey, Belle!” and Belle looked up and there was Momma, staring at her with the same old
What hath God wrought?
expression Belle had seen so many times before.

It figured. Just when she had decided to revel in her successful debut and stop worrying so much about what was going on back in North Platte; just when she had decided to stop obsessing over Blaze; just when she was beginning to feel all grown up and almost independent; just when she was beginning to be content—there was Momma, her gloved hand holding a parasol at exactly the right angle to shield her face from the hot July sun, and her other hand on Orrin Knox’s arm.
Orrin Knox?
What was
he
doing there? And where was Daddy?

Speechless, Belle stood openmouthed until a fly buzzed so close it nearly flew in. She waved her hand in front of her face, plunged the shovel deep into the mess at her feet, and stumbled forward.

“Momma!” She pulled off a glove and wiped sweat off her forehead. “I . . . uh . . .” She gulped. “Hello.”

Momma leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She looked Belle up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“Couldn’t be better,” Belle said. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Your Father has pressing business. When I learned Orrin was planning a trip, I convinced him to let me come along.”

Orrin cleared his throat and nodded, then reached out to shake Shep’s hand.

As he returned the gesture, Shep nodded at Momma. “Ma’am.”

Momma nodded back. She looked much older than Belle remembered. There was even a bit of silver showing at her temples. Was that new, or had Belle just never noticed before?

“Mr. Knox and I arrived in the city only a little while ago,” she said. “As you are obviously busy”—she stared at the pile of manure with barely disguised repugnance—“I’ll take the opportunity to get settled and perhaps rest a bit before this evening’s performance.”

Shep spoke up. “If you need a hotel recommendation—”

“We’re at the Brunswick,” Momma said, and looked at Belle. “On Fifth Avenue. Near—”

“Madison Square Park,” Belle finished the sentence for her. She knew a few things about the city of New York. “You’ll want to eat at Delmonico’s,” she said. “Delicious steak. Shep treated Helen and me to dinner there not too long ago.” She enjoyed the surprise on Momma’s face.

“The restaurant in yer hotel’s good, too, ma’am. Stays open real late fer the theatre crowd.” Shep laid on his cowboy accent. “I’ll see to it the boys give ya’ reserved seatin’ t’night.” He motioned at Orrin. “You, too.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Momma said.

“It won’t be no trouble. People do it all the time fer fam’ly and special friends.”

Momma said thank you, then turned to Belle. “Perhaps you and I can have a late supper. Unless you’ll be too tired after the performance?”

“I’m not doing my act tonight. Diamond needed a rest. The last couple of weeks of two performances a day have taken their toll on the old boy.”

Momma frowned. “But . . . you can’t use another horse?”

Did she really think it was that easy? “It would take weeks— maybe months—for me to train another horse,” Belle said. “And that assumes I could even find one suited for the act. Horses have different temperaments, different personalities. It’s a lot more complicated than just roping one and riding into the arena.”