Unbridled Dreams (46 page)

“Well, look at you,” Helen said and burst out laughing.

Shep feigned indignance as he reached up to straighten his black silk cravat. He touched the brim of his black bowler and inspected Helen. “This is a perfectly normal getup for a New York gentleman headed to Sunday dinner with his family.” He fussed with his cuffs and collar. “You don’t see
me
laughing at
your
getup,” he retorted.

Helen picked up her parasol and feinted a jab in his direction. “That’s because I’m armed. You wouldn’t dare.”

“You feeling all right?” Shep said to Belle. “You look a little pale.”

“She’s as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Helen said.

“I’ve never
been
to Sunday dinner at a New York brownstone before,” Belle said.

Shep smiled at her. “Nothing mysterious about it. We eat. And I’ve seen proof you know how to do that.” He winked. “You look wonderful, by the way.” He glanced at Helen. “You both look wonderful.”

Helen twirled around. “Thank you, Shepherd. I was telling Belle this mornin’ that I could get used to this dressing-up business. Shoot, if a person didn’t know better, they might mistake me for a lady.”

“If you ask me,” Shep said, “you’re all the lady anyone in his right mind would ever want.”

“That,” Helen said, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek, “was a very nice thing to say.” She put her arm through his and brandished the parasol. “So watch out, New York, here we come.”

Belle took Shep’s free arm and forced a smile. Why
was
she so nervous, anyway? Mrs. Mortimer had seemed nice enough. Belle was glad Helen was coming along, but she had a feeling this invitation to have “Sunday dinner with the family” was probably more about “inspecting the girl from Nebraska to see if she is worthy.”

They were on the ferry when Shep took her hand and said, “Relax, honey. It’s my
family.
I’m not feeding you to the lions.”

Even Shep was taken aback when his mother led the three of them into the brownstone’s dining room. “Well,” he said. “I didn’t think we were going to see the
entire
family today.”

Belle took in a sharp breath. The dining table had to be twenty feet long, and . . . how many. . . ? Too many Mortimers had gathered.

“This,” Mrs. Mortimer said, “is the young woman you’ve all heard so much about.” She indicated Belle. “Miss Irma Friedrich appears with the Wild West as Liberty Belle.” She put her hand on Helen’s shoulder. “And Shep has also brought his friend Miss Helen Keen.” They’d reserved a place for Shep and Belle together. But Helen was all the way down at the opposite end of the very long table, next to a spectacled dark-haired man. As soon as the three Wild Westers had found their places, Mrs. Mortimer began circling the table, introducing people as she went. “Celia and Marie, Shep’s sisters. Marie’s son, Gabriel. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Tillie. Cousins Helen and Barbara. Shep’s Uncle Harold and Aunt Sophie. And this . . .” Mrs. Mortimer put her hand on the shoulder of the squinty-eyed man at the far end of the table. “This is Shep’s brother, George.”

George stood up and, with the most wooden smile Belle had ever seen, bowed first to her and said, “At last, Miss Friedrich,” and then greeted Helen, only he called her “Miss Cream.” He cleared his throat. “You must forgive us for overwhelming you today. But one never knows when the entire family can gather. Celia and Marie just got back from the summer house out on Long Island, and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Tillie leave soon for their annual tour in Europe. And then there is Uncle Harold and Aunt Sophie”—when George indicated these two, they nodded—“who have taken to gadding about on that boat of theirs until the rest of us despair of
ever
seeing them.”

Feeling her backbone stiffen with what she hoped was a semblance of dignity, Belle said hello. She clasped her hands in her lap, hoping they would stop trembling before she had to actually pick up a fork. Shep reached for her hand beneath the table even as Mrs. Mortimer asked George to say grace.

“We thank thee, divine Providence, for all thy abundant gifts. We thank thee for family bonds that, while often stretched by distance and adventure, are never broken. We ask thy blessing upon this gathering and upon the various endeavors represented around this table. Amen.”

As the meal progressed and conversation departed from the initial polite questions directed at Belle and “Miss Cream” to more general discussion, Belle learned that Uncle Charlie was in shipping and apparently owned an entire fleet of oceangoing vessels that imported a vast array of exotic goods into the country. As for Uncle Harold and Aunt Sophie, who liked to gad about in their boat, Belle remembered talk of them from supper at the Brunswick, but it was still impressive to hear them speak of firing the cook or hiring a new captain or of the staff, who were positively unruly at times, in the same tone of voice the Masons spoke of livestock and gardening.

Marie, the gorgeous sister Belle had seen at the Wild West one afternoon, proved to be genuinely friendly. Celia, on the other hand, regarded Belle with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. Partway through the meal, Belle began to wish she and Shep had been seated with Helen—not only to get away from Celia’s icy stare, but also to have a better view of what was going on down there.

For all his squinting and pompous praying, George Mortimer appeared to be fascinated by Helen. He hardly took his eyes off her through the entire meal, and when dessert was finished, and the men were withdrawing for cigars and the ladies were going for a stroll in the garden, George decided he wasn’t ready for a smoke. So he and Shep, Belle and Helen, ended up seated in the gazebo, where George displayed a surprising amount of knowledge of cattle and an equally surprising interest in ranching in the state of Texas. Before the evening was over, George had exacted a promise from Miss Cream to show him the Wild West grounds.

“You haven’t been there yet?” Helen said, clearly surprised. “Surely you’ve seen your brother perform.”

“Well . . . yes. Of course I have. But . . .” George’s face reddened as he said, “I anticipate a much more charming companion would make the experience all the more fascinating.”

Belle almost laughed aloud at the dandy’s obvious flirtation, but then Helen winked at him and said, “Well, how could a girl resist an invitation like that?”

Later that night, as she and Helen lay in bed, Belle said something about the dreaded tour with George Mortimer.

“Who’s dreading it?” Helen said. “He seems to be a nice enough fella—if a bit of a stuffed shirt.” She chuckled. “I bet if a body ever got him out of that starched collar and into a flannel shirt, he’d be almost as nice as his brother. One thing for sure, he knows more about ranching than the average banker.”

“A girl could do worse,” Belle said.

“Oh, go on,” Helen retorted. “George Mortimer isn’t interested in me that way.” She forced a laugh. “You might find a girl like me polishing the silver in the butler’s pantry, but at that table every Sunday?”

Belle didn’t argue with her. The Mortimer home was opulent. Elegant. Polished wood and crystal chandeliers, sterling silver and fine china, silk wall coverings and ornately framed oil paintings, inlaid wood and thick carpets, butlers and maids and cooks and— If it weren’t for Mrs. Mortimer’s kind eyes and welcoming smile, Belle would have been tempted to feign illness just to escape that gargantuan table and the multitude seated around it. But she made it through the night, and as she and Helen and Shep had boarded the ferry to come back to Staten Island a few hours ago, Shep had put his arm around her and said, “And those, sweetheart, are the Mortimers.”

“Did I do all right?” Belle asked.

“The more important question would be . . . did
they
do all right?” At her look of confusion, he smiled and winked. “I already approve of you, honey. It don’t really matter all that much if they like you. On the other hand, I am hoping you don’t want to run screaming out of my life after meeting the entire herd.”

Belle looked up at him. She shook her head. “I don’t want to run anywhere you aren’t.”

Shep yelled, “Yee-haw,” and sent his bowler hat spinning through the air toward the Statue of Liberty.

The Wild West train pulled away from New York in mid-September and wended its way along a short tour route that finally brought them into St. Louis. From St. Louis the troupe disbanded, with the Pawnee, Sioux, and Comanche returning to their various reservations and troupe members scattering to their homes throughout the west.

Belle, Shep, Helen, and Ned Bishop transferred to the Burlington Northern headed for North Platte on Wednesday, September 29. The few weeks before they had to be back in New York to prepare for the Statue of Liberty Parade would go quickly. Monte and Dora’s wedding was on Friday, and Helen would leave for Texas the day after.

October 6–9 was the Lincoln County Fair, and Bill Cody had asked Shep to participate in a chariot race and help oversee a twenty-five-mile relay race he had planned. Ned Bishop would be riding west to check on some land.

“We’re going to feel like we blinked and it was over,” Belle said. She opened Minnie’s most recent letter and read the clipping Minnie had enclosed. “Listen to this,” she said, “It’s from the
Register.
‘Let the citizens of Lincoln County give Buffalo Bill the handsomest reception ever known. We have reason to feel proud of the worldwide reputation our honored citizen has received, and it is only right that we show our appreciation.’ ” Belle scanned the page and then exclaimed, “Oh my goodness . . . Minnie wrote this!” She held the article up. “Look. It says so right there.
Miss Minnie Mason.
”

Belle read on, wondering all the while if Minnie’s writing for the newspaper meant that Mr. Orrin Knox had finally opened his eyes. She hoped so. “Minnie says Momma’s involved in helping plan the big reception. There’s to be a banquet at the Pacific Hotel the night he arrives.” She looked up at Shep. “I suppose you’ll have to attend?”

“Couldn’t say,” Shep said. “Bill only mentioned the chariot race. There’s plenty of time to find out what he wants me to do after Monte’s wedding.” He stretched his legs out and, leaning his head back, fell asleep.