“Somethin’ about waitin’ for Faustina at her wagon, as I recall?” Solace stood up, consciously squaring her shoulders and hooking her thumbs through her belt loops. “Thanks, Malloy. In spite of spittin’ in your face, I really am glad to see ya. Glad you’re helpin’ me out with this, too. I owe ya one.”
Joel’s lean face softened, and just for an instant Solace saw the lost little boy who’d never felt he fit in with the rest of them. She missed that kid.
“Stop it right there,” he muttered. “You were the only one who ever mattered to me when we were growing up. Don’t go mushy on me.”
He hooked an elbow loosely around her shoulders. It was a short, brusque hug, but at least he would still touch her. At least Joel’s heart hadn’t gone totally wild and unreachable in these years he’d been gone.
He put on his dusty hat, and with a nod he stepped out into the hall.
The solid thud of the door sounded awfully final. She was alone, in a strange, dirty hotel room with only Rex and the roaches for company.
The sight of all that long brown hair strewn on the floor was suddenly more than she could take. Solace snuffled back tears and double-dog dared herself to look in the splotchy mirror above the pitcher and bowl.
“My Lord, he didn’t leave me—I hardly have any hair at all!” she wailed. “But I don’t look any more like a man than I look like—”
A nudge at her knee made her lean down to hug Rex, and the dog nuzzled her damp face. He’d always been a worrier when anything made her cry. He sniffed eagerly at her head, searching for the Solace-scent that mingled with the smells of Joel’s hands and the scissors. Then he sneezed so hard he shook all over.
Solace laughed sadly. “Got little hairs up your nose, fella? Maybe if I rinsed this rat’s nest and combed my fingers through it, I wouldn’t look so pathetic. Never thought to ask Joel if he’d cut hair before.”
She poured water into the bowl, doused her head, and then rubbed it briskly with the ragged towel on the wall peg. When she faced the mirror again, a sense of purpose took over—and so did the natural waves that had always defied her efforts to tame them. Maybe Joel was a better barber than she’d given him credit for: the layers fell evenly into place, and she gave thanks for the thick mop of hair she’d gotten from…
Daddy.
Solace blinked. Those distinctive eyebrows…the strong nose, and that dimple in the corner of her mouth. Every one of those features held her attention whenever she gazed at the picture Mama had given her years ago. She still carried it with her whenever she left home, like a good luck charm—and if she’d ever been in need of some luck, it was now. While Michael Malloy had been the best father any girl could’ve asked for, it was good to have another one to fall back on when times got tough.
Solace lifted the framed likeness from her carpet bag and gazed at it. She looked in the mirror, and then back at the man whose presence she’d always felt, even though he had died before she was born.
“Well, I’ve gone and done it now, Daddy,” she murmured as she gazed at his faded face. “I-I hope it’s not something you’ll think was wrong or—I didn’t do this to hurt anybody, you know. I just…had to try it out.”
She sighed, feeling very alone. But then, this was the first night she’d ever spent entirely by herself.
“Why is it so dang hard to live out the life I’ve always felt best about?” she asked him. “Why have I always been so different from—”
A soft whimper…a pawing at her leg…
Solace glanced down at Rex. His ears were peaked to form that brown butterfly she loved, and he gazed up at her with so much love she scooped him into her arms.
“Yeah, it’s you and me now, buddy,” she whispered against his silky hair. “I know you won’t let me down, and I’ll try to hold up my end of that bargain, too. We’ll have Lincoln and Lee with us—and Daddy, and God. That’s the best anybody can hope for, isn’t it?”
Rex rested his head on her shoulder as though he didn’t have a worry in the world. She wished that same peace would come as easily to her.
Lord, if this is meant to be, she prayed, I’ll do my very best to glorify You with the skills You’ve given me. And if it doesn’t work, well—give me the grace to bow out before I make a total mess of things, all right?
Chapter Nineteen
“Well, Mr. Juddson, I don’t really need another sharpshooter.” Apache Pete looked her over with a doubtful expression—and he watched Rex, too, because the dog was staring him down. “But you’ve got a couple of fine-looking bays here. And you say this pooch rides along with you?”
“Yessir. Rex, he loves to show off for an audience,” Solace replied in Sol’s best low voice. “Guarantee ya I’ll hit whatever targets ya got, standin’ still or ridin’. And for my big finish, I’ll be straddlin’ both bays, circlin’ the ring at full gallop.”
Apache Pete twirled his handlebar mustache around a finger, assessing how many extra dollars this might bring in. He didn’t look nearly as impressive without his ringmaster’s red coat; he resembled a bantam rooster as he circled her horses again. “Won’t cost me a cent to see if you’re as good as your word,” he murmured. “Let me get somebody to toss your targets. And since the band’s practicing, I’ll have them strike up a real pulse-pounding song once you’ve got both horses under you.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate this chance to show you what we can do.”
Had Apache Pete seen through her disguise? Would he take a chance on a total stranger?
“Time to find out what we’re made of,” she whispered to Rex as they led Lincoln and Lee into the ring. The huge tent looked shabby without a crowd in it, and the air smelled hot and stale. Here came Crack-Shot Cora and Faustina Flambeau, along with Joel. The two women sat a few feet apart in the second row, as though it wasn’t their idea to be here. But Solace couldn’t let that distract her.
Her brother shot the pair a quick glance before turning his back to them. “You got a big trick for the end—a real showstopper—if Pete asks you?”
Solace fought the urge to adjust the tight band under her new black shirt. “I can shoot an apple off Rex’s head,” she replied cautiously. “But I’m not going to show him that one. Somebody sneezes or throws a wadded-up peanut sack, and I’ve lost my best friend.”
Joel nodded, thinking. “I’ll toss some random targets as you circle the center ring. You can show how much better you are than Cora.”
“But what if I hit you?” Solace’s heart was rattling her ribcage, now that the hard, cold reality of this audition was hitting home.
Joel lowered his hat brim over those unflinching eyes. “You won’t miss, Sol. I wouldn’t take that chance for anybody else in this world—so don’t prove me wrong!”
He trotted toward a wooden trunk near the bandstand, to fish out some colorful whirligigs. With a deep breath and a prayer, Solace mounted Lincoln’s bare back and instructed Lee to stay put. As the band struck up a loosely woven waltz, she urged her mount forward to accustom him to the music and the arena. Once Apache Pete joined the two ladies on the bench, she sprang up to stand on the gelding’s firmly muscled back…found the beat…let her trusty bay find his gait as though he’d been born for this moment.
She slipped into a half-trance, a state where her body relaxed to flow with her horse while her mind remained alert. It kept her from thinking too hard or making a misstep. When she felt herself ease into perfect, effortless rhythm with Lincoln, she gave a short whistle.
Rex loped alongside them and leaped, then landed behind her with a triumphant little woof! As she cantered past her observers, she caught the sparkle in their eyes. Crack-Shot Cora looked a little bristly, but she followed every nuance and move.
Solace flashed Joel the thumbs-up then, and slipped her pistol from her waistband. It seemed fitting to audition with the pearl-handled set Billy had given her, and at the flutter of a shiny metal whirligig high above her, Solace shot without really taking aim.
/> A ping echoed in the tent’s high ceiling, and then another and another. Ping! Ping!
She didn’t check Apache Pete’s reaction or think about what she was doing. Total relaxation was the only way to carry this off—and after five more moving targets, she signaled for Joel to stop. Then she waved to the bandmaster.
The music accelerated into a flashy show march, and as she circled toward Lee, she clapped her hands twice. The gelding tossed his black mane in anticipation and fell into step with them. Then she nimbly hopped over to his back to establish the pulse—the heartbeat that kept both horses moving beneath her in perfect harmony. She squatted, taking both their reins in her hands.
“All right, boys, here we go.” A moment later she eased over to stand with a foot on each cantering horse and the floor going by beneath her. Solace leaned into the turns around the arena…let herself float and fly as their magnificent black manes fluttered in the breeze they created. If there was any finer, more exhilarating sensation on God’s earth, she didn’t know what it would be.
As the music subtly accelerated, Lincoln and Lee responded in perfect precision. When she reached her upper limit, Solace cleared her throat.
“Up, Rex. Give ’em a wave, boy,” she commanded.
She could only feel him, balanced on Lincoln’s back, facing backward. But she knew when the dog had done his trick.
“Bravo! Brav-oh!” Apache Pete called out. He stood up as they passed him, clapping wildly and grinning like a kid.
She knew when to quit. Solace sidestepped to stand on Lee, and then raised her arm in a ceremonial salute to the empty benches. Instinctively the two geldings slowed their pace until they came to an easy halt in front of Pete, Cora, and the Gypsy fortune-teller.
“Well done! The crowd’s going to eat this up!” the show’s owner crowed. “Let’s get you a costume. You start tonight, Sol!”
The Extravaganza’s other performers grudgingly changed the order of their appearances to give Sol Juddson the spot after the stagecoach robbery—long after Crack-Shot Cora had performed—but they watched in awe as she and Rex and the two bays cantered smoothly around the ring. They were impressed, too, by her marksmanship as the spinning whirligigs splintered one after the other—ping! ping! ping!—in the high tent top.
The showstopper, of course, was when Rex sat up to wave his paw at everyone. With the long fringe on her buckskin shirt drifting on her breeze, and hundreds of eyes following her every flex and balance adjustment, Solace raised both arms triumphantly during her final trip around the ring. As she slowed the two bays to exit the tent, Joel was there to lead them to the corral.
“See there?” he whispered when no one else was around. “You’re a natural, Sol! A boy wonder with his trick dog! Better think of some other stunts you can do, little sister. Pete knows a crowd-pleaser when he sees one.”
Sweet words, from a man who seldom showed his emotions. “Did I convince them I was a boy?”
“The buckskins help. You’ll have to be careful come time to strip down and hit the hay for the night, though.”
“You don’t really think I’m going to take off my shirt in front of—”
“All the men’ll want to hear your story—where you’re from, and where you got these fine matched bays,” he remarked. He sloshed water into the trough for Lincoln and Lee, glancing around for eavesdroppers. “The ladies’ll check you out, too. Most of them are old enough to be—well, not your mother, but they’ve been on the circuit awhile. You’re a fresh piece of meat, Juddson, and they’ll all want a taste.”
Her jaw dropped. She’d never considered this. Never thought about bunking in circus wagons and tents with men who probably slept in the altogether.
“Watch out for Faustina especially,” he added. “Can’t say her card readings are genuine, but she sizes folks up pretty fast. And accurately.”
“She’s seen my face close up, too. Before you cut my hair,” Solace mused. “Thanks for letting me in on all this. I’ll groom the horses and feed Rex now. Tend to my personal business where nobody’ll see me.”
“Yeah, if Sol squats to pee, it’s all over, little sister.”
For the next week, Solace led a charmed life: she triumphed during two daily performances, tended her horses, and practiced some new tricks in between. After Joel’s warning about how everyone would want to know Sol’s story, she played Juddson as the quiet type who kept to himself. It was a proud moment when an artist from The Chronicle sketched her and Rex atop Lee. sol juddson steals the show!! the article’s headline proclaimed, and beside it there was another sketch of her sighting down her pistol at the reader, looking poised and pleased.
Joel bought her a couple copies of the issue in town, so she could stash them in her trunk. “Something to look back on when you’re old and gray,” he teased.
But the pride in his eyes made her feel ten feet tall. She wondered how her parents and Gabe would take it, when they saw her short curls and fringed buckskins in the newspaper. Would they understand that she was living out her dream? And that Lily’s ungracious behavior hadn’t chased her away from home forever?
Sunday at breakfast, Apache Pete announced they’d be extending their stay in Abilene because the crowds were eager for more of Sol Juddson before the show moved on to Enterprise. Solace felt elated, but things got tricky after the matinee performance: Madame Flambeau and Cora had time to spare then. Time to come sniffing around while Sol helped Joel feed the livestock.
“You’re a damn fine rider, kid.” Cora bit off the end of a cigar and then moistened it with her tongue before lighting up. “Luckiest shot I ever saw. Don’t think you missed a target all week.”
Sol flashed her a shy smile. “Thanks, ma’am. That’s a mighty high compliment.”
“And me, I’d like to set you down at my table for a…reading sometime,” Faustina purred. She sashayed between Solace and Joel as they loaded hay bales into the stock wagon, and then the Gypsy gripped Sol’s upper arm in a suggestive squeeze. “Don’t you just want to run your fingers through those thick curls, Cora?”
The sharpshooter snorted behind her haze of cigar smoke. “I know who butters my bread, but that won’t stop me from sayin’ this straight out, Juddson. You oughta miss once in a while. If you get what I’m sayin’.”
Solace composed her face carefully. “And why would I wanna do that?”
“You gals better move along, so’s we can get the buffalo fed,” Joel cut in pointedly. “Pete’ll be around to rag on us if we’re not done by—.”
“You let the women handle Pete,” Faustina said with a flirtatious grin. “Cora’s just pointing out that since she’s the star, it would be polite for young Sol not to steal her thunder.”
“ ’Specially since you got that dog and those fine horses in your act,” Cora cut in. Her tone had turned edgy. Her expression was speculative as she studied Solace’s reaction. “There’s only so much to go around, kid. Only so far I’ll be pushed, before somethin’ happens to that cute pooch. That’d be a real shame, wouldn’t it?”
The color rose into Solace’s face. Joel’s warning glance made her bite back a retort. How would Sol Juddson handle two women trying to get a rise out of him? How should he set Cora straight, firmly but politely? Rex, meanwhile, sat very stiffly, following this conversation with his instincts as much as his eyes.
“I’m not tryin’ to show you up, ma’am,” Solace said in a tight voice. “Just doin’ my act and mindin’ my own business. If you want me to help you practice—”
“I want you to understand one thing, buster,” Cora replied gruffly. “I don’t care if you did make the show go an extra week in Abilene—you’d better miss once in a while—or fall off your horse, maybe. I don’t cotton to playin’ second fiddle, or havin’ a damn dog get more applause than I do!”
The stocky little woman turned abruptly and stalked off, leaving a trail of harsh-smelling smoke in her wake. Joel laughed, distracting Faustina by slipping his arm around her waist to ki
ss her. But that didn’t stop the Gypsy from looking Solace over very closely.
“I see a Six of Wands reversed,” she whispered ominously. “A man who was once riding high gets laid low. Better do as Cora says. She packs a lot of punch around here.”
With a sway of her gauzy skirts and a mysterious jingle of bracelets, Madame Flambeau left Solace and her brother. Rex followed the fortune-teller’s retreat with a low growl.
“Anybody touches my dog, I’ll be shooting at more than whirligigs!” Solace said with a hiss. “I don’t care who she is, she can’t tell me to—”
“Those gals pull a lot of weight, and they lead Apache Pete around by the—ear,” he added quickly. “It’s always a sign Faustina’s claws are out when she loses her Gypsy accent.”
“Why does she care how well I shoot? It’s not like her fortune-telling business is affected by—”
“No, but she and Cora always unite when the chips are down. Birds of a feather gotta flock together.” Joel tossed the last two hay bales up to the wagon, his expression pensive. “You might want an excuse to leave the show before we roll on to Enterprise. From there we go to Nebraska and parts north—a lot farther from home if mischief kicks up.”
“But I just got started! We’re a hit!” she protested. “Apache Pete said there’d be a pay raise if I can come up with a really fantastic trick where Rex rides one of the horses and—”
“You won’t have an act, much less the heart to keep performing, if your dog meets up with a so-called ‘accident.’ Cora means to practice on a moving target, if you don’t do like she says.”
Stunned, Solace hugged her dog when he leaped into her arms. She’d worried about Lincoln or Lee getting out of step while she shot, or about somebody whistling to Rex, but never had she imagined somebody threatening her dog because he’d outperformed her in a show! That cigar-chomping not-so-Crack-Shot Cora had better watch her own back, if she kept talking like that!
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