Irma began to talk the second she and Daddy sat down opposite Bill Cody and Nate Salsbury. “I know what you just saw was a mess. It wasn’t worthy of the Wild West. But if you’ll give me a chance—if you’ll let me stay—I’ll work harder than anyone. I’ll give you your money’s worth and then some. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
When Mr. Salsbury seemed about to speak, Irma pressed on. She pleaded with Cody. “You don’t know what it’s like for a girl like me. My momma wants a daughter like yours—a beautiful accomplished lady. But I’ve never wanted that. Never ever. And here—for the first time in my whole life—I’m around dozens of people who don’t think it’s strange for a girl to prefer corrals to drawing rooms and stables to afternoon tea. You can’t send me back home. You just can’t.”
Irma stopped abruptly. How had Momma gotten all tangled up in what she was saying? Men like Bill Cody and Nate Salsbury didn’t care about some girl’s whining about being misunderstood. Here she had a last chance and she’d bumbled it.
It seemed to take years for Cody to say anything at all. Finally, he spoke up. “My dear girl, who said anything about sending you home?”
Irma looked at him in disbelief. “You . . . you aren’t sending me away?”
“Certainly not.” Cody nodded at Mr. Salsbury.
Salsbury spoke up. “How much do you know about the city of New York, Miss Friedrich?”
“Only what Monte’s told me. That the Wild West arrives in June and will be there for some weeks.”
Salsbury nodded. “What Monte does not know is that we are in negotiations right now to remain in New York for an unprecedented winter performance—indoors—at a venue called Madison Square Garden.” He continued, “The last time I was in New York, I took the ferry across from the city to Staten Island to check on the progress of track we’re having built to transport our audience from the ferry landing to the Wild West grounds. Now the ferry passes near Bledsoe’s Island, soon to be graced by a very significant monument. Have you heard anything about that monument, Miss Friedrich?”
Daddy spoke up. “I have. In fact, now that you mention it, I believe Mrs. Friedrich and I saw an exhibit intended to raise support for that project at the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia ten years ago. Something about celebrating the friendship between France and the United States?”
Salsbury nodded. “Exactly. It’s over three hundred feet high. Named ‘Liberty Enlightening the World,’ the figure of a woman holding high a lighted torch. They expect the light to be visible from fifty miles at sea.”
“That’s what we saw at the Centennial,” Daddy said. “The hand and the torch. Impressive.”
“Indeed,” Salsbury said. “The dedication ceremony is sure to be a historic occasion. President Cleveland himself is giving the official acceptance speech. There will of course be a parade. And fireworks.” Salsbury smiled at Irma. “People will be telling their grandchildren about that day, Miss Friedrich.”
“I expect so.” Irma agreed. What did any of this have to do with her?
“Which brings us to the topic of Liberty Belle,” Cody said, folding his hands atop the desk and leaning forward, “who we see as the perfect Wild West contribution to a momentous event in American history.” He smiled. “Thanks to you, Irmagard, the Wild West can have a living, breathing Liberty, not only to perform on Staten Island while the statue goes up on Bledsoe’s Island nearby, but also to ride in the parade on the day the Statue of Liberty is dedicated.” He winked at Irma and sat back. “Thanks to Liberty Belle, every single person who witnesses that parade will remember the Wild West.” He smiled. “They’ll come in droves, my dear.” He nodded at Daddy and then looked back to Irma. “It’s really perfect for us. And hopefully, acceptable to you.”
“You’re . . . you’re hiring me? After—” Irma motioned toward the arena. “After that pathetic excuse for an audition?”
“It wasn’t pathetic,” Cody said. “It was . . . imperfect. You were out of practice.”
Mr. Salsbury chimed in. “But you never gave up. You covered your mistakes. And you kept that dazzling smile on your lovely face.” He nodded. “You’re a born performer, Miss Friedrich.”
“I-I am?”
“You are,” Cody nodded as he stood up. “And now if you will excuse me, I try never to keep a journalist waiting.” He shook Daddy’s hand and then stepped out from behind the desk. “My partner has the contract for you both to look over.” He glanced at Daddy. “I don’t want anyone to question whether or not we are treating her fairly,” he said. “Anyone.”
He was talking about Momma, of course. Irma glanced at Daddy, who nodded and said something about being grateful that Louisa Cody and Willa were friends.
“You can assure Mrs. Friedrich that we will take very good care of her daughter,” Cody promised. “If it will comfort rather than upset her by encouraging imagined tragic scenarios, you might mention that we’ll have our own physician on staff throughout the tour. Dr. Miller comes highly recommended.”
Salsbury spoke up. “And he’s ordered supplies enough to stock a small hospital.”
Cody agreed before adding, “And should she decide to visit the Wild West, be certain to let us know so we can make proper arrangements.” He turned to Irma. “Now you, my dear, must promise that you will work very hard to perfect moves worthy of Liberty Belle, both for her debut this summer and in the October parade.”
“I will,” Irma croaked. “I promise.” She wasn’t sure which had given her a bigger knot in her stomach, failing in the audition or succeeding in getting hired for . . . October?! But—
“And I have one more request,” Cody said.
“Whatever you say, sir,” Irma replied. Maybe she misunderstood about October.
Cody laughed and nodded to where his partner stood, contract in hand. “If only we could get everyone else on our staff to learn that phrase.” He looked at Daddy. “Irmagard Friedrich is a perfectly fine name for a girl from North Platte. But I think we all agree that Liberty Belle is a better one for the Wild West. With both your permissions, that’s how we’ll introduce our new ranchera to the rest of the troupe.”
“As my daughter so eloquently stated just now,” Daddy said, with a little nod, “whatever you say.”
“Well then”—Cody swept his hat off his head and gave an elegant bow—“welcome to the Wild West, Miss Belle.”
“Did he say October?” Irma asked as soon as Bill Cody was gone.
“He did,” Mr. Salsbury replied. “I believe the exact date is October 26. Which is why it’s so perfect for Liberty Belle to be part of that event. We open in Madison Square Garden in November.”
Irma stared at her father. “But I can’t still be here in October.”
Salsbury frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
Daddy cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse my daughter and me for a few moments, Nate—” He reached for the contract.
Salsbury handed it over. “Of course.” He paused. “I need to speak to a few people about where we’ll house our new performer.” He looked at Daddy. “We do have a new performer?”
“You do,” Daddy said. “Irma and I just need to have a little talk is all. She was hoping to be hired on for the summer. This new infor-mation—” He cleared his throat. “We just need a few minutes.”
As soon as Salsbury was gone, Daddy laid the contract before Irma and pointed to the signature line. “Trust me,” he said. When Irma hesitated, he said, “Or shall I telegraph your mother in Chicago and ask her permission? I could do that. If you want me to.”
“She’d say no.” Irma groaned with frustration. “She’d scream no.” She took a deep breath. “You really did have me convinced that it would be all right—that Momma would eventually come around. But that was when I was only going to be gone for the summer. This—” She gestured at the contract. “This is another animal entirely.”
Daddy nodded agreement. “Indeed it is. But look at this way. Why did Momma want you to go to Bro
wnell? Education. What better education could you have than to travel and meet people? And I don’t mean the other performers. Why, you’ve already met the mayor of St. Louis. If you make yourself a student of the people you meet and the places you visit, you could end up with an education that the best schools in the country could not rival. If you remain with the Wild West beyond this first season, you’ll be going to Europe next year. Nate told me—in confidence, of course—that the negotiations are nearly finished. I only know about it because the bank is going to help with the financing.” He smiled. “Now, what parent would stand in the way of their child meeting the Queen?”
“I hardly think I’d meet the Queen.”
“Who’s to say?” Daddy shrugged. “Either way, it looks to me like being with the Wild West will provide you life experience that will trump anything Brownell Hall could offer.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Sign the contract, Irma. Your momma loves you. When you’re settled in New York, I’ll bring her for a visit. By then you’ll be a well-traveled and mature young woman who will, I am certain, take great pains to treat her mother to a tour of the city of New York that will impress even her.”
Still doubting, Irma looked down and began to read through the contract that stated Liberty Belle agreed to perform twice a day, six days a week “as soon as competence is demonstrated.” She would be paid thirty dollars a month. Three meals a day and lodging would be provided. Additional responsibilities and performing wardrobe were “to be arranged.” She was required to keep herself and her equipment and costumes clean. She had to be “orderly, quiet, and gentlemanly.” Irma forced a laugh at that last requirement before reading, “Each cast member is allowed one dressing trunk 18 inches by 18 inches by 24 inches and one personal trunk the same size, but only if absolutely necessary.” Her trunk was much larger than that.
“We’ll get a smaller one as soon as the stores open Monday morning,” Daddy said as soon as Irma read him the rule.
She had just finished reading the front page when Mr. Salsbury returned and asked, “Do you have any questions before you sign?”
Irma took a deep breath. She glanced at Daddy again. When it came right down to it, she realized there was no way she was going to walk away from this. And Momma would just have to learn to accept it. Or not. She picked up the fountain pen even as she asked Mr. Salsbury about her additional responsibilities and wardrobe.
“Ma Clemmons is our wardrobe mistress, and I think she’ll be the one to see on both counts. As you get to know her and her staff better, you can begin to talk about a costume for Liberty Belle. For obvious reasons we’ll want you thinking in terms of red, white, and blue. And I’ll want to approve the final design before Ma Clemmons makes it. I just talked to her about you, and she’s thrilled with the idea of having more help. If you can sew, that’s where you’ll be working.”
Irma grimaced. “Can’t I work with the stock?”
“You’ll like Ma Clemmons, and working in wardrobe will also give you the opportunity to get to know some of the other girls.”
“I said I’d work hard if you’d give me a chance. I meant it.” Of course I didn’t think I’d be threading needles. She squelched the inner voice and went back to reading while Mr. Salsbury gave his assurance about taking good care of Irma, and Daddy said Momma would especially appreciate Nate’s promise. Irma very much doubted Momma would appreciate anything about this adventure, but she said nothing. She had made up her mind and there was no going back now.
“I just now talked with Miss Keen,” Salsbury said, “and she’s agreeable to sharing quarters with you. So if you have no questions and that’s agreeable to you . . .” He pointed to the signature line at the bottom of the second page.
Irma hesitated when she read the last few lines of the contract. “It says I have to have my own horse.” She glanced at Daddy.
“And you do,” he said.
“I do?”
“What do you think the three of us were talking about over at the arena just now?” Daddy smiled. “Diamond belongs to you now—or should I say to Liberty Belle.”
Irma jumped up and hugged him. She began to cry happy tears. Finally, she sat back down and signed her first Wild West contract.
Liberty Belle.
CHAPTER 12
YOU HUSBANDS, IN THE SAME WAY, LIVE WITH YOUR
WIVES IN AN UNDERSTANDING WAY . . .
1 Peter 3:7 NASB
Chicago taught Willa shocking things about herself. She, who had grown up reveling in the hustle and bustle of the tens of thousands of people living in her home city of Cleveland, found the endless traffic in the streets of Chicago positively unnerving. Crowded walkways and department stores that had once energized and excited her now induced something approaching claustrophobia. The noise in the streets below her hotel room window kept her awake. She missed the way people on the street at home always smiled and said hello. She missed Ella Jane’s sense of humor and Irmagard’s laughter. Staring at the far horizon across Lake Michigan made her homesick for the unobstructed view from her front porch. The aroma of cigar smoke that wafted out into the hall from the “gentleman’s club” at the hotel reminded her of Otto. When she saw any young woman with red hair, Willa struggled most of that night worrying about Irmagard. Was she truly all right? Had Minnie come to stay? Would Otto take their daughter’s depression seriously? When he failed to answer her first telegram, Willa worried aloud to Louisa. Together they agreed that no answer wasn’t necessarily an indication of trouble. It could be anything. Certainly if there were a problem, Otto would have contacted her at once. But for all her logic, Willa finally gave in to the unshakeable longing for home.
“I’m so sorry,” she said over an elegant supper with Louisa Cody, “but I simply cannot shake this feeling that I need to go home.”
Louisa waved her hand in the air. “I understand your concerns completely. Just don’t forget to mention Manitou Springs to Mr. Friedrich. It’s lovely there in late July, and wouldn’t it be nice to escape the heat in North Platte?”
It would, Willa agreed, but that evening as she lay in bed imagining surprising Otto and Irmagard with an early homecoming, Willa was not so certain she would go to Manitou Springs after all. It was an amazing thing to admit, even to herself, but after all these years, the prairie was home.
“Yee-haw, cowgirl!” Helen Keen called out as Irma and Daddy ducked out of the Wild West office. She was walking along with arms linked with Monte and Shep. As the trio approached, Miss Keen called out “Do-si-do,” and both Irma and Daddy were swept into a two-step victory dance that ended with everyone laughing and Irma a little breathless because Shep had lifted her off the ground with a fierce hug as the moment of silliness ended.
Daddy beamed at them all and invited everyone to the hotel for an early supper, after which he and the men returned to the Wild West grounds, leaving Miss Keen behind to advise Irma on how to pack.
“You can have my trunk,” Minnie offered as they headed upstairs to their room. “It’s smaller than yours—probably about perfect.” As she unlocked the hotel room door she teased, “I don’t know if I’ll ever learn to call you Belle.” She led the way into the hotel room.
“Oh, I’ll still be Irma at home,” Irma said.
“Not for long,” Minnie disagreed. “Orrin Knox is going to love hearing about this. Remember he wanted to do a feature on Monte? I bet it won’t be long at all before he shows up at a performance to interview Liberty Belle.” She smiled. “You could end up on the front page of the Register.”
Irma crossed the room and opened the drapes. “Since you brought his name up, may I suggest that you pay a visit to Mr. Knox as soon as you get back to North Platte? If he really plans to do a series on Nebraskans in the Wild West, he’ll be in your debt for telling him about Liberty Belle.” She worked her eyebrows up and down and teased, “And you could collect on that debt in any number of ways.”
Miss Keen laughed. “Sounds like you two are plotting to rope som
eone.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Minnie said. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Just tell me you’ll do it,” Irma said.
Minnie didn’t answer. Instead, she slid her trunk into the middle of the room. “Isn’t this about the right size?”
Miss Keen nodded. “It’s perfect.”
“Then let’s get started outfitting my friend Belle.” Minnie began to empty her trunk.
It didn’t take Miss Keen long to look Irma’s clothing over and say, “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t see a thing that’s gonna be of much use on tour.” She reached for a hanger and held up a waist. “Here, for example. The fabric’s just too flimsy. It’ll never hold up.” She looked at the rest of the dresses, shaking her head. “They’re beautiful. They just aren’t much use.”
“What about for suppers in town?” Minnie asked.
“There honestly isn’t much time for any of that for us lowly performers,” Miss Keen replied and looked at Irma. “I only came along Friday night because the Shepherd wanted me to meet you. But even on the rare occasion when we do get invited to ‘dine with the stars,’ we’re supposed to keep our western duds on.”
“I assumed you just didn’t have time to change after the show,” Irma said.
“Doesn’t it bother you the way people stare?” Minnie asked.
Miss Keen shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if it bothers us or not. It’s free advertising for the Wild West if we wear our show duds around town.”
“Well,” Irma said, taking the waist out of Miss Keen’s hand and hanging it up again. “I guess that simplifies packing.” She gathered a few toiletries, her brush and comb, hairpins and jewelry, and laid them in Minnie’s trunk tray. With the addition of two nightgowns and her unmentionables, she was finished.
“We’ll go see Ma Clemmons first thing when we get back,” Miss Keen said. “She’ll know what to do.”
Unbridled Dreams Page 15
