by Montana West
A FEW HOURS LATER...
“Four days?! You’re telling me that the repairs will take four days to complete?!”
Chase watched as the normally eternally optimistic Professor Monro grew increasingly flustered as he spoke with the master roundhouse mechanic in Cheyenne’s railyard. Their gleaming locomotive had been towed into the roundhouse after it had finally stopped belching smoke and steam and had been given an inspection by the mechanics inside of the building. The Professor’s jowls tightened into an uncharacteristic scowl as he glared at the railway man standing before him due to the news that he had been given.
The roundhouse mechanic looked at the heavyset showman with a look of extreme boredom etched across his lined and grimy features. “In simple terms, Doc—”
“Professor,” Monro corrected hotly, his thick fingers moving to twirl his waxed moustache in annoyance.
If the mechanic was affected even the slightest by the Professor’s correction, he didn’t show it. “Right, Professor, I’m amazed your crew is still alive,” he said, his tone sounding anything but impressed. “Firebox is shot through like a sieve, rods and bearings need replaced and the boiler looks like it hasn’t been flushed since Sherman burned Atlanta.”
“That’s all fine and well, my good man,” Professor Monro blustered, “but how in the name of the Lord’s creation does all that work take four days to complete?”
“‘Fraid that since your locomotive is a private engine rather than a company one, it’s not exactly making the top of our list of priorities,” the mechanic continued. “Now we could speed up the process a little for a larger payment—”
“Why, that’s robbery!” Professor Monro huffed, stomping his foot into the dirt.
The mechanic appeared unfazed. “Doc, when it comes to repairs on these machines, you can either have it done fast, cheap, or done correctly. Pick two.”
Without waiting for the professor to answer, the mechanic turned on his heel and withdrew toward the other locomotives occupying the roundhouse that demanded his attention and expertise.
The professor stood there sputtering at having been brushed aside by the railway man who so obviously did not understand the responsibilities of a traveling showman. Chase, Giuseppe, Francois and a few of the others stood behind and watched the professor fume for another few moments.
Once the professor managed to calm himself, he turned to look at the people that, in many ways, were his family. “Well my friends, it’s as the man said.” He sighed, his whole body seeming to sag under his ponderous weight. “Looks like we’re stuck in Cheyenne until the locomotive is repaired.”
The gathered members of the traveling show began talking amongst one another, wondering what was to become of the show if they were delayed. Running behind by a day or so was one thing, but to be delayed by a full four days was something that had never happened before.
Any other time in his career, Chase McAllister might have been worrying right alongside the professor and the rest of the performers and workers, but a tiny hope lit up within the forlorn and darkened corners of his mind.
This whole catastrophe is a blessing in disguise, he thought in mounting excitement as a plan started to form within his mind. Four days is more than enough time to get to Leyla and explain myself!
Taking a deep breath, Chase stepped forward to address the professor. “Professor, pardon me for asking, but what should we do while we’re waiting for the engine to get fixed up?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even lest he give away his budding plans.
The question caught the attention of the others and they quieted down as well, turning to regard the professor and hear his thoughts on the matter.
Professor Monro seemed to give the question some thought, stroking his thick chin with gloved fingers. He finally arrived at a conclusion as a tired smile creased his weary face.
“As it stands, we’re going nowhere fast,” he declared to his fellow travelers. “I think that a little rest and relaxation is the order for the next few days—for the entire show.”
A cheer rose up from the gathered travelers as they had just been given the next few days off. Before Professor Monro could get out another word, they had all beaten a path straight out of the roundhouse and toward the siding where the rest of the train had been parked while awaiting the repaired locomotive in order to inform the others of the good news.
Chase, however, made a different path. Instead of making his way to the car he shared with his fellow show riders, his boots carried him right to the stock car that held their horses.
He and Cannonball were going to take a little ride...
MCNEAL RANCH LAND, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, August 1885
“Ow! Mama, please be more careful where you’re poking that needle!”
“Oh hush, Maggie,” Abigail chided. “You used to pick splinters bigger than this sewing needle out of your hands after playing in the back of the wagon all day.”
Margaret huffed but remained perfectly still as Abigail continued to make modifications to the dress that she had worn when she and Peter had gotten married and she was now passing onto her daughter.
The McNeal women were situated in the parlor of their home, going over some of the preparations for Maggie and John’s impending wedding a few days away. Maggie had insisted that they get married straight away before any of her competitors tried to pull some half-baked scheme to try and discredit her or something to that nature.
John was off with a few of the ranch hands tending to one of the herds in the pastures and likely wouldn’t be back until after sundown. That gave the ladies plenty of time to work on Maggie’s dress so that John wouldn’t see it until the wedding.
Leyla, still reeling from the news of Chase McAllister’s previous marriage, was seated on the parlor sofa going over the finances for the wedding celebration. She was attempting to keep her thoughts focused on the numbers in front of her and as far away from Chase as possible.
Let’s see, she pondered, her eyes following the movement of her finger as she examined the ledgers. We should be able to afford everything, especially if we use our own cattle. I need to discuss cost with the baker in Cheyenne about all the confections. Then there’s the...
The sound of hooves rapidly approaching broke her concentration and she looked over to where her mother and Maggie were still working on the dress. The two of them had also turned their heads to look toward the window to see if they could make out who had just arrived.
“Is John supposed to be back this early?” Abigail asked, a note of worry in her voice as she quickly looked around the parlor for a quilt or some similarly dimensioned article that she could throw over Maggie if need be.
Maggie shook her head in equal confusion. “Unless something’s gone wrong, he said he’d be out there until the moon started rising,” she replied. “Are we expecting anybody today?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Abigail answered. “Maybe it’s Mister Williams, the notary with an extra document for signing.”
Margaret appeared unconvinced. “Nah, I’ve seen Mister Williams ride. A tumbleweed gets farther in an hour than Mister Williams could on a horse with a two-day head start. Whoever just rode up sounds like he was riding to beat the band.”
While her mother and sister continued to debate who could have possibly just arrived, Leyla decided to take the direct approach. Placing a marker in the ledger book to keep her place, she stood up from the sofa and walked to the window to see who it was.
And it turned out to be the last person she ever wanted to see, perched atop a white and roan charger like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I REALLY DID NOT THINK this plan all the way through, did I? Chase asked himself as he sat on top of Cannonball outside the McNeal home.
I either look like a complete fool or some kind of bandit just waiting for an opportunity, he continued internally scolding himself.
He had given little thought to his plan for apologizing to Leyl
a beyond riding to the McNeal ranch to see her. He had no idea how he was going to even get her to talk to him.
There’s gotta be some way I can get her to come outside, he thought determinedly.
His thoughts, however, were interrupted as he saw Leyla standing in the window of what he recalled to be the parlor. He could feel his heart skip a beat as he saw her standing there. Even at the distance he was from her, he could see that her beautiful eyes were tinged with a mixture of sadness and anger that tormented his heart even further.
Though he felt his heart tearing itself to shreds over the look of dejection in her eyes, he forced himself to focus on his objective.
He looked around for a moment, unsure of what he could possibly do to try and convince her to come outside and talk to him, but all he had on hand was his skills and Cannonball.
My skills and Cannonball, he thought, turning the idea over in his head, examining it like it were some precious mineral extracted from the earth. Much like earlier when he realized he had more time to explain himself to Leyla, another thought flashed into existence within his grief-addled mind.
Show riding! he mentally cheered. I’ll give Leyla a show the likes of which even her sister’s never seen! Her curiosity will draw her out, and I’ll be able to apologize and explain myself.
Certain that there was no way this plan could fail, Chase gave Cannonball a touch of his spurs as his hands gripped the reins tightly with purpose.
Watch closely, Leyla, he thought determinedly. I’m about to show you just how far I’m willing to go to have the chance to make all of this up to you.
WHY IS HE HERE? Leyla mentally questioned, her thoughts turning toward anger and sadness simultaneously. I thought he’d be gone forever. Why can’t he just leave me alone?
“Leyla?”
Leyla dimly heard her mother call her name, but to her it sounded far away, as though it were coming from the other side of a long tunnel.
“Leyla?”
She vaguely registered Maggie calling her name as well, but she still made no sign that she’d actually heard it. She just continued to stand at the window, looking out at Chase McAllister and his show horse.
A hand being laid on her shoulder nearly made her jump out of her skin. She wheeled around and saw the look of concern in her mother’s eyes as she checked on her daughter.
However, this also gave Abigail the chance to look out the window, and when she saw just who their mystery guest was, her eyebrows knit themselves into a firm line and her lips puckered into a bemused expression.
“So, I see that Mister McAllister came back after all,” she said quietly, her tone not at all pleased.
“McAllister?!” Maggie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up like twin bonfires doused with kerosene in the middle of the night. “You two stay inside. I’m gonna go get my Henry and give that snake the ventilation he deserves. Why I’ll—”
“You’ll stay right inside this parlor, Margaret McNeal,” Abigail commanded firmly, her eyes never leaving Chase as he spurred his horse and began moving about in what looked like the start of show runs.
“But Mama!” Maggie protested, her voice coming out in an almost uncharacteristic whine. “He’s not welcome at this ranch anymore and that means he’s trespassing. At least let me fire a warning shot at him!”
Abigail remained unyielding. “You will do no such thing, Margaret,” she declared with her usual patient resilience. “I will not have that wedding dress you’re wearing smelling like powder and gun smoke. Besides, we haven’t finished fitting it to you. The jolt of the rifle firing might cause something to slip.”
Again, Margaret huffed but relented to her mother’s wisdom, but she crossed her arms across her chest in a look of anger. “So, if I can’t shoot him, then what do we do?” she asked heatedly. “Wait for John and the ranch hands to get back so that they can do the job?”
“Hardly,” Abigail replied. “We’ll just ignore him. He’ll eventually catch on that neither Leyla nor we are interested in anything he has to say, and he’ll wander off back to where he came from. Isn’t that right, Leyla?”
But Leyla was once again in her own little world as she continued to stare at the window at Chase McAllister and his loyal steed as the two of them started going into their well-practiced show-riding routines.
Why can’t I look away? she cried within the halls of her mind, wishing that she could turn her eyes away but unable to find the strength within to do so.
CHASE BEGAN HIS TRICKS simply enough, starting with a few practice jumps and such just to get Cannonball warmed up. He and his horse got into the rhythm of making sweeping passes back and forth in front of the McNeal homestead. With every pass, Chase looked toward the window to ensure that Leyla was still standing there, still watching like a quiet yet beautiful specter.
Once he was certain that Cannonball had had an opportunity to stretch his powerful legs, Chase started into the standards. The first few passes saw him performing simple heel drags, wherein he would reposition himself to ride sidesaddle and then allow his heels to drag in the dirt and dust. It was a simple enough trick to perform, even if it was tough on even the hardiest pair of boots.
After doing two passes in front of the homestead, and with his boots thoroughly scuffed by dust and pebbles, Chase looked toward the window again to see if Leyla was still watching.
She’s still there, he thought hopefully. Doubt she’s all that impressed with a simple heel drag. Don’t you worry Leyla; I’m just getting started.
For the next pass, Chase attempted something a little more daring. With his legs still free of the stirrups and still positioned in a sidesaddle riding style, he gripped the saddle horn at the front in one hand and the saddle strings in the back with the other before allowing himself to fall backwards. The effect was such that he was effectively riding sidesaddle upside down.
This trick is always such a strain. Chase winced as he felt the blood rushing to his head as Cannonball galloped past the homestead. Some of the dirt and rocks kicked up by his steed’s pounding hooves flew up and pelted his face. On top of that, all of his body weight was being supported by his arms, putting a massive strain on them and making the trick all the more difficult to maintain.
Chase and Cannonball completed one pass before he pulled himself upright, the detritus that had collected in the brim of his hat falling down again. The show rider gave his head a shake, trying to clear the grime from his face and long brown locks.
Surely that had to impress her, right? he wondered. He peered toward the homestead, but his heart sank as he saw that Leyla was no longer standing at the window.
AFTER CHASE HAD MADE the previous pass with his marvelous display of trick riding (with a stunt that even Maggie had begrudgingly admitted was impressive), Leyla had allowed her mother to guide her away from the window—and Chase McAllister’s attempts at luring her out—and back toward the sofa and the account books.
“Just ignore him, my sweet Leyla,” Abigail soothed, stroking her daughter’s long fiery red hair as she had done ever since she was little. “He’ll grow weary soon enough, leave, and that will be the end of it.”
Although her mother’s words brought her some measure of comfort, Leyla suddenly felt like she wasn’t sure that she wanted Chase to leave.
He’s doing all of this just to try and get me to talk to him, she mused, not sure whether the thought was spoken from anger or sympathy. Part of me wants to let Maggie do what she wanted and shoot him, and part of me wants to hear him explain himself. What do I do?
As her mind and heart continued to war with one another over what she should do in regards to Chase McAllister, her ears picked up another sound: the sound of another horse approaching.
A knot of dread instantly formed in her stomach as she realized that John Baldwin had returned early, and from the sound of things, he and Longbow were riding as if they had the Devil himself square in their sights.
JOHN BALDWIN LIKED to believe that he was a reason
able man, quick with a joke and ready to draw on a ready supply of patience. And while he shared the McNeal’s penchant for always welcoming travelers whether they were family, friends, or complete strangers, he was not a man who would suffer the presence of someone who was no longer welcome. Who might well have broken his soon to be sister-in-law’s heart as a game.
He had been out in the eastern pasture with the ranch hands and one of the herds. With his usual level of strategy, he and Longbow had made their way up the eastern ridge—or, as some of the ranch hands took to calling it, McNeal Hill—so that he could have a better view of the herd and direct the movement to the ranch hands below.
Of course, his reason for scaling the hill was also done to satisfy one of his more protective instincts. Though he knew Margaret, Abigail, and Leyla could more than handle themselves, he still liked to check in on them while he was out in the pasture. To do so, he made his way up to one of the surrounding hillsides and withdrew a spyglass from his satchel.
The trail-worn instrument was old but no less effective, its once gleaming brass now sporting a dull sheen while the lenses within were as crisp and clear as the day they had been crafted.
Once atop the ridge, John had extended the spyglass and brought it to his eye in order to peer across the distance at the McNeal homestead. As usual, he expected to find everything in order and no signs of disturbance visible.
At first, it appeared that he was correct and that all was just as he had left it. However, a trail of dust caught his eye and he swung the spyglass over to catch the white and roan coat of a horse emerge from the front side of the homestead.
That can’t be, he thought skeptically, lowering the spyglass and rubbing his eye as though he were clearing some kind of blockage that was causing him to see things. When he returned the spyglass to his eye and looked again, he saw that what he had seen the first time was still there.
