by Montana West
The show rider simply gulped again but made a visible effort to reinforce his determination. “Long as you’re right there next to me, I’ll be fine,” he spoke hoarsely.
When the two finally reached Abigail’s position, Chase helped Leyla off of Cannonball first before he dismounted as well. The two stood bashfully in front of the McNeal matriarch, waiting for her to say something, anything.
“I see the two of you decided to partake in a midnight ride, am I correct?” Abigail asked.
Leyla plucked up what courage she could in the face of her mother’s stare. “Mama, Chase isn’t a married man anymore, and he wasn’t truly married in any sense, and he’s got proof,” she blurted, figuring that that was as good a place as any to start.
Abigail’s sole reaction was a slight quirk of one of her eyebrows. “Is that so?” she asked before turning to stare directly at Chase. “Is that the honest truth, Mister McAllister?”
Chase winced under her sharp gaze but he managed to compose himself. “Yes, Missus McNeal,” he said quietly. “I was only married to Janet Wilson for a few months, and she only married me so that she could inherit her grandfather’s money. We never-—And once I found out how she using me, I was able to get a divorce with her grandfather’s help. Here, I’ve got the papers right here.”
He made to pull the papers that confirmed his story from his trouser pocket, but Abigail held up a hand that halted the action. Leyla and Chase held their breaths as they waited for Abigail to make some kind of declaration.
The older redhead made no move other than to reach one hand up and massage the temple on the side of her forehead before letting out a sigh. “I think, Mister McAllister,” she began quietly, though her tone had softened considerably, “that this is a story best told at the table. Sun’ll be up within the hour. If you’ll join Leyla and me in the kitchen, while I prepare some eggs and a side of bacon.”
“Well, I’d, uh, I’d be honored, Missus McNeal,” he said dumbly, looking to Leyla for some kind of support, but Leyla was just as stymied.
“Wonderful,” Abigail replied with a crooked smile. “If you’ll both follow me.”
Leyla and Chase were speechless as Abigail turned on her heel and, instead of walking around to the front or back of the house in order to enter it, she lifted the hem of her own skirt and swung her legs back through the window, performing the action flawlessly.
Once she was inside, she spun around and leaned out to look at the two with the same odd smile. “Well? What are you two waiting for? A written invitation? I bet you’re both famished.”
AN HOUR LATER SAW THE three seated at the kitchen table over breakfast and freshly made coffee. Abigail had been proven correct once more as both Chase and Leyla had inhaled their first plates before politely asking for seconds, which she was more than happy to oblige.
Between getting the stove ready, cooking breakfast, and then serving it, Chase and Leyla told Abigail about his origins, how he’d come to be in Cheyenne, his short-lived marriage to Janet Wilson, and even how he’d come to be a show rider. Abigail listened to the entire story quietly apart from an occasional question or two.
When Chase finished the story, Abigail calmly set her cup of coffee down before folding her hands atop the table. “My daughter has already said as much, but I would like to sincerely apologize for how badly we misjudged you, Mr. McCallister,” she said. “And I’m certain that once Margaret and John hear your story, they’ll be asking for your forgiveness as well.”
Chase smiled awkwardly at Abigail’s apology. “From where I’m standing, you folks got nothing to apologize for,” he replied. “If anything, I’m real sorry that I wasn’t up front with all of you right from the get go.”
“All the same,” Abigail countered politely but firmly, “you have my deepest apologies for all of this and my sincere hope that you’ll remember that you are always welcome here.”
“Thank you, Missus McNeal,” he remarked humbly.
“None necessary, Chase,” she said with a welcoming smile. “Now, not to rush you on your way, but I think it best if you get a move on before Margaret wakes up and finds you sitting here. So far you’ve only seen her after she’s had her morning coffee.”
Leyla laughed at her mother’s assessment of her sister’s disposition in the morning, but she looked over at Chase with a smile. “She’s right, though. You get back to the show and get some rest. Once we’ve brought Maggie and John up to speed, I’ll make sure they come along and apologize to you in person.”
Chase looked as though he didn’t want to leave, but he nodded his head in agreement and stood up.
“Thank you kindly for the delicious breakfast and the coffee, Missus McNeal,” he said gratefully, picking up his cup and downing the warming liquid in one gulp. “We never get anything half as good as your cooking out on the show circuit.”
“I’ll see him out,” Leyla stated as she stood up in a rush.
Without another word, the two made their way out through the kitchen door to where Chase had hitched Cannonball next to the stable.
Abigail sat in the kitchen for a moment, sipping her coffee and smiling as the sun rose.
CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY, August 1885
“Oh my aching head...”
John Baldwin reluctantly pulled his head up from the hard surface it had been resting on and looked around. Unfortunately, his vision was more out of focus than a cracked telescope. Giving his head a shake to try and clear the bleariness quickly proved a mistake as the motion threw him completely off balance and caused him to fall backward onto the floor.
Despite the pain he felt when the back of his head made contact with the hardwood floor, it seemed to do wonders for clearing his vision. Once the stars faded from his eyes and he felt well enough to prop himself up on his elbows, he finally took a look around.
Someone could have told him he’d been the sole survivor of a massacre and he’d have believed them as he looked around the darkened room to see bodies strewn everywhere. Luckily, he could just make out the telltale rising and falling of chests as well as a few variations of snoring that told him everyone else was likely passed out instead of just plain dead.
Turning his head toward what he was starting to recognize as the bar, he was treated to the sight of Fergus Finnegan’s mutton-chopped face lying sideways on the polished wooden surface, snoring away like some ancient beast.
Even managed to take old Fergus down with us, John thought in an oddly proud way.
Realizing that there was no real need to rouse everybody up just yet from their slumber, John allowed his arms to slowly slip out from under him until he was once again lying flat on the floor.
As his eyes gently closed, he allowed himself a slight chuckle as hazy memories of the night came back to him.
Must’ve been a wild party, he thought just before he passed out again.
“OH MY ACHING HEAD...”
On the far side of the Cheyenne railyard, Bull Beauregard was slowly coming to from what was likely a moonshine-fueled sleep brought on by the night before. His condition was made all the worse by the fact that the show’s performers and workers had erected their tents and campfires on the eastern side of the train, making them the first recipients of the sun’s morning light.
“Lousy Yankee sun,” he grumbled, as though the sun’s rising could be somehow blamed entirely on the Union’s continued existence. “Can’t let a southern gentleman sleep none. I swear, this’d never happened if old Stonewall hadn’t got shot on patrol and—”
“Bull, what in the name of Creation are you going on about?”
Bull’s head snapped around to lock onto a blurry figure that sounded strangely similar to Chase McAllister, only happier than he’d last heard him.
“Who’s that?” Bull slurred, trying to get a better look at the figure through his alcohol-hazed eyes.”
The figure seemed to chuckle at his attempts at better sight. “Just your old Yankee buddy, Chase, Bull,” the voic
e responded.
Bull, however, wasn’t convinced. “Nah, couldn’t be, Chase is off crying hisself to sleep in some corner over that lil’ show-ridin’ lady rejectin’ him.”
“Ahhh,” the figure replied. “Sorry to say, Bull, but that Chase left last night. Said something about going to find a nice southern girl instead. But you’ve got me now, and I promise I’m just as good.”
“I’ll believe it when I see...” Bull mumbled as he slipped back into unconsciousness, still convinced that he hadn’t actually been talking to Chase.
CHASE LOOKED AROUND with a smile at all of the people he considered his family. They had obviously taken to their first day off with great gusto and had continued to do so even after he had left the night before. Some were likely sleeping in their tents, while others were strewn about the numerous campfires that had been made the night before, now reduced to glowing red coals in the early morning light.
He’d quietly gotten Cannonball into the stock car so that his mount might have a well-deserved rest after the long night, before he’d gone to check on the other riders. Bull was still shirtless and laying sprawled out on the ground, but had regained consciousness for a few moments to mumble something about a Union sunrise and hold a brief conversation with Chase before going under again.
Looking around, Chase saw that Phillipe had had the good fortune to fall asleep on a colorful quilt, though his arms were wrapped around the midsection of his guitar as though it were a woman’s waistline.
Shaking his head mirthfully at the antics of his friends and colleagues, Chase made his way further up the train until he reached a noticeably larger tent than the others. This was Professor Monro’s temporary lodging.
“Professor?” Chase whispered, trying to not wake anyone else up. “Are you awake?”
“Chase my boy, is that you?” came the professor’s equally hushed voice from inside. “Do come in, please, please.”
Chase pulled the flap back and stepped inside, finding the professor—dressed in what he would often claim was a priceless Persian robe once worn by the Shah himself, along with his ever present top hat—sitting at a small table set off to the side with a teapot and the matching set of cups laid out. The Professor was seated on a chair that looked to be holding up remarkably well under his great bulk as he looked over one of the show’s ledger books.
The Professor gave Chase a smile as he indicated a chair opposite himself, which Chase gratefully accepted.
“Up with the rooster and the sparrows for a change, dear Chase?” the professor greeted, though at a quieter level than he normally spoke. “As I’ve said before, you’re the very model of efficiency.”
“Morning to you, too, Professor,” Chase replied with his own smile. “Sorry to bother you this early, but I was hoping I could discuss an idea with you similar to the one we were on about the other day.”
The professor took a sip of his tea, extending his chubby pinky finger out as he claimed that all in civilized society were meant to do, before setting the tea cup down again and fixing Chase with another grin. “A new idea, you say?” he asked, his tone one of delighted curiosity. “Color me intrigued, young Chase; let’s hear it.”
Chase’s smile grew wider. “Here’s what I’m thinking...”
MCNEAL RANCH LAND, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, August 1885
“All right now, Leyla, keep your left foot tight in the stirrup and let your body drape over the horse’s side! Yes! Exactly like you’re doing it!”
Chase felt a combination of pride and love as he watched Leyla perform a trick known as the Cossack Drag, wherein a rider kept one foot in the stirrup and let their body lean backward over the opposite side of the horse, to the point that they could extend their fingers out and let them drag along the ground as the horse continued moving.
Seated on the fence nearby, Margaret McNeal and John Baldwin watched the younger McNeal sister perform the risky maneuver, both of them wearing matching expressions of amazement and trepidation.
It had been a full day since Chase and Leyla had been reunited. Once Margaret had awoken the previous morning, and John and the ranch hands had sobered up enough to return to the ranch, Abigail had told them how Chase had made a second attempt to explain himself to Leyla, detailing how he’d been tricked by the dubious Wilson family and how he’d gotten his divorce.
Of course, Abigail had left out the romantic parts of the story, such as Chase serenading Leyla outside her window and their little escapade in the grove of trees near the eastern ridge.
Once they’d learned the truth, Margaret and John had mounted up and made their way to the Cheyenne railyards as fast as Apollo and Longbow could carry them. They immediately found Chase and apologized profusely for how they’d treated him. John especially begged forgiveness for his own actions in driving Chase from the ranch, and by way of apology he produced the very hat that he had blown off of Chase’s head with such precision gun slinging, the holes neatly patched as though they were never there to begin with.
As an added method of showing there were no hard feelings, John then asked Chase something that caught both the show rider and his fiancé off guard: he asked if Chase would mind being his best man at his and Margaret’s wedding in two days’ time.
“See, the only other fella I could ask to be my best man is Fergus, and he’s already in charge of giving Maggie away since he was her father’s best friend as well as being Maggie and Leyla’s godfather,” John had explained. “And since Leyla is Maggie’s maid of honor, seems only right to me that you should be my best man.”
Chase was honored by the offer and accepted it gratefully, more than happy to put the momentary roughness between the two of them in the past.
Now it was the day before the wedding, and all four riders were enjoying a day of galloping around the ranch, sharing a few of their tricks, and just enjoying life.
Leyla and Chase were having the most fun by far as Chase instructed her in a few more tricks.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen anybody with the guts and leg muscle to pull off the Cossack Drag,” Maggie said approvingly. “I’ve been fiddling around the idea of getting back into it myself, only with combining the trick with a few shots from my Henry.”
Chase nodded thoughtfully at the proposed maneuver. “Good thing my fellow rider Bull isn’t around to hear that,” he said jokingly. “He’d steal it, try it, and then claim it was entirely his idea.”
The three riders laughed together, glad to have something comedic to share with one another. Unfortunately, the small gathering had to end when Maggie pulled out a pocket watch and declared that she and John had a few more things to attend to before they split up for the rest of the day, unable to see one another until the wedding the next day.
Maggie had initially scoffed at the odd tradition, but Abigail insisted and she relented. John would spend the night at Fergus’s saloon while Maggie would remain on the ranch, which is where they were hosting the wedding and the celebration.
The two departed, leaving Chase and Leyla alone once more.
Once Leyla had righted herself in the saddle and made her way over to Chase, the two shared a quick but loving kiss with one another, happy to be alone once again.
“Leyla, I’ve been giving it some thought and, well, there’s something I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind,” Chase said quietly.
Leyla’s eyes opened wider than the mouth of the Mississippi River and her breath caught in her throat. All she could do was nod in order to tell Chase to continue.
Chase took a deep breath before he locked his eyes with hers. “I’m crazy for you, Leyla, but I have an obligation to the professor and the rest of the show,” he said sadly. “The day after tomorrow, the locomotive will be fixed, and we’ll be moving on to Laramie and the rest of the territory.”
He slowly reached over and took one of her small hands gently inside his.
“Leyla,” he breathed, “I talked it over with the professor yesterday,
and we want you to come with us on our tour.”
JOIN A PROFESSIONAL show riding tour?! With Chase?!
Leyla couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was practically a dream come true. The chance to further her skills among a whole show full of professional riders and the opportunity to further her own reputation as a rider, maybe even past that of Maggie.
Maggie... Leyla thought sadly, feeling her chest tighten as she realized that she couldn’t just abandon the ranch and her family to pursue her career on a whim.
“Chase,” she began quietly, her voice almost a whisper, “I would like nothing more than to join the show and come traveling with you, but I can’t just leave the ranch behind. I’ve got responsibilities here. It may be Maggie’s ranch, but she needs me to help her run it. Please understand.”
Chase answered by leaning over and giving her another of his gentle kisses. When he finally broke it, his face showed that he was crestfallen, but he understood. “I do, Leyla,” he said, “but I want you to know that I don’t need an answer right this minute neither. Give it some thought tonight. No matter what you choose, I’ll still love and support you.”
Leyla could feel tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, but she held them back as best she could. “I’ll...I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow night,” she vowed, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “After the wedding.”
The show rider gave her another smile and a kiss before he rode off, intent on catching up with John so the two could ride into Cheyenne together.
Leyla remained seated atop Whirlwind, the white horse her only companion along with the jumble of thoughts, choices, and possibilities that had been dumped into her mind.
