Unbridled Dreams

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “I thought everyone had the day off on Sunday.”

  “Oh, everyone does, but Ma and Pa Clemmons sorta hold court on Sunday evenin’ for anybody needing a listening ear. I guess you could say they’re everyone’s honorary grandparents.” She smiled. “Since packing’s finished, how’d you two feel about headin’ back over and taking a real tour of the back lot before we talk to Ma?” She glanced at Irma. “You might as well get started settling in.”

  Just inside the gate, Miss Keen motioned toward the deserted midway. “I assume you got a good look at the concessions and the souvenir stands yesterday?” Irma and Minnie nodded. “All right, then.” She led the way across the grassy area just south of the arena and past the tent where Liberty Belle had signed her contract. She pointed toward a roped-off shop. “It takes four blacksmiths to keep all the horses shod and machinery repaired,” she said before leading the way toward the stables and corrals. “The buffalo are in the opposite corner at the far end of the midway,” she explained. “Everyone wants to see the buffalo.”

  “And the elk?” Minnie chimed in.

  “And the elk,” Miss Keen agreed. “Probably the only thing that attracts more attention than the buffalo and the elk is the Indians.” She nodded toward the Indian camp, where half a dozen women were gathered outside one tepee. “Last year we had Sitting Bull with us. This year it’s American Horse and Rocky Bear.”

  She pointed toward the opposite side of the grounds at the largest tent in sight. “That’s wardrobe. We’ll head there later. This way for now.” Miss Keen named names as they walked past a long row of tents, most of them with flaps closed because the occupants were away from the grounds enjoying their day off. “Bill Cody, Nate Salsbury, Shep Sterling, Mr. & Mrs. Gable”—she leaned close—“also known as Annie Oakley and Frank.” She continued. “Lillian Smith . . . and various owners and management.” She indicated the rest of the long row with one sweep of the hand. “Important, but you don’t need a thousand names swimming around in your head right now. You’ll meet them all soon enough.”

  At the far end of the row of larger tents, they turned left and stopped in front of two smaller tents pitched away from the others. “Dora and Mabel are in this one—they do the cowgirl race in the performance,” Miss Keen explained as she looked toward the corrals. “I thought we might catch up with them.” She turned back around and said to Irma, “You’ll like Dora. Oh wait, you’ve already met her. She helped you get changed for the audition.”

  “She showed me where to change,” Irma said. “She didn’t say two words to me.”

  “Well, Dora’s shy,” Miss Keen said. “But you’ll like her. She’s very sweet. And this,” she said, as she lifted the flap on the other tent and motioned Irma and Minnie inside, “will be our home sweet home for the next few nights—and again when we get to New York in a few weeks.” She leaned close and teased, “As long as you don’t snore, that is.”

  The tent was furnished with two beds and a table. It was smaller than Irma’s room at home. When Minnie’s trunk arrived, there would barely be room to move.

  Miss Keen pointed to the cot made up with a feather bed and several quilts. “That’s mine.” She pointed to the empty cot. “This is yours. And don’t worry, one of the porters will see that your bed’s all made up before tomorrow night.” She shrugged. “I know it seems really crowded, but the fact is, we work about sixteen hours a day, and by the time you get back here most nights you’ll be asleep almost before your head hits the pillow.” They went back outside and continued the tour. “Stay away from that,” Miss Keen said, pointing to what she said was the ammunition wagon. “The burly guy with the blond moustache is Bud Kramer. He has absolutely no sense of humor, and I personally give him a very wide berth.” She kept walking.

  “What’s he do?”

  “What doesn’t he do? He’s in charge of all the guns and ammunition. Repairing, cleaning, loading the blanks, loading Bill’s cartridges. And Bud makes all the glass balls for Bill, Miss Smith, and Annie.” Miss Keen paused. “Which reminds me, we tend to be informal around here, so from now on, please stop calling me ‘Miss Keen.’ Miss Oakley will likely order you to call her Annie the second she realizes you’ve been promoted from spectator to troupe member. But there is an exception to this rule. Never call Miss Smith anything but just that. Miss Smith.”

  Irma nodded. “Got it, Helen.”

  “About time,” Helen said with a nod. “Belle.”

  As the trio walked toward the wardrobe tent, they passed another corral of sorts to one side of the backdrop where the covered wagons, the Deadwood coach, and various other props were stored behind ropes intended to keep the public from climbing on and around the equipment. “It may look haphazard,” Helen said, “but believe me it’s not. Dooley Parker is in charge of all that, and there’s a place for everything and everything is in its place.” She chortled. “And you do not want to encounter the wrath of Dooley Parker.”

  “Sounds like you learned that the hard way,” Irma said.

  Helen cleared her throat. “That,” she said, “is a story that must be earned.”

  “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” Minnie’s expression was concerned as she and Irma settled in for their last night in the hotel. “You seem awful quiet.”

  Irma slid between the covers with a sigh. “I’m just distracted. Wondering what Daddy was up to while we were with Helen.”

  “Right,” Minnie teased and nudged her playfully. “With not one thought to where Shep Sterling made off to.”

  “Guess I know the answer to that,” Irma said. “Both he and Monte had to get ready for tomorrow.” She paused, then murmured, “It’s a lot of work, being part of that troupe.”

  Minnie propped herself up on one elbow and looked over at Irma. “You’re going to be great, Belle. You’ve got nothing to be worried about.”

  Irma sighed. “I’m not worried—exactly.” She paused, then decided to say it. “Truth be told, Minnie, I’m sorta scared.”

  “Scared? Of what?”

  “I know Monte says they’re just like family, but they aren’t a family to me. Not yet. The grounds were practically deserted today. And the few people we saw were in no mood to chat.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Clemmons both gave you a hug. Helen is as nice as they come. And you’ll have Monte for family. Probably Shep Sterling, too—if you’ll have him.” She winked.

  Irma didn’t want to talk about Shep tonight. Her feelings about him were confused. Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw him, and when he smiled at her—a girl could almost forget her determination to be a Wild West star when a man smiled at her that way. Which was part of what was confusing her. Here she was making speeches to Momma about not wanting to get married, and meanwhile she was daydreaming about kisses. How was she going to be around Shep day in and day out and keep her head clear about what she really wanted in life?

  Minnie lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m really, really, really going to miss you. You’d better write.”

  “I will.”

  “Ma and Pa and everyone are going to be so proud. And Aunt Willa’s going to be proud, too, someday. You may not believe it now, but I just know everything’s going to be all right.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Irma said. “But I have my doubts.”

  “You know what my ma says about your momma?”

  “What’s she say?”

  Minnie mimicked her mother’s voice. “Your Aunt Willa is a complex woman, but underneath she’s pure gold.”

  “Aunt Laura says that?”

  “She does.”

  “Hmmm.” Irma turned on her side and closed her eyes, but a torrent of conflicting emotions kept her awake long after Minnie started to snore.

  Early Monday morning, Daddy hefted Minnie’s trunk into place along the back wall of the tent Belle would share with Helen Keen. “Fits just fine,” he said.

  Irma nodded. “It does.”

  Helen ducked inside
and set a pile of faded clothing on Irma’s cot. “Ma Clemmons pulled these out of a mending basket after we left last night. She said to give you them for now and have you check in with her after the noon performance starts. By then she’ll have some newer duds for you to try out.”

  Irma inspected a faded split skirt. “Whose are these?”

  “Ma said Mabel’s likely forgotten about them—Mabel being something of a clothes horse. There’s a button needs sewing on, and the seat’s about to give out, but they’ll sure fit better than Monte’s duds.”

  “I’ll get some new boots ordered for you as soon as I get back to North Platte,” Daddy said. He pulled out his money clip and counted off several bills. “They keep back the first two weeks’ pay— remember?” He handed the money over. “I don’t want you doing without.”

  Helen cleared her throat. “I don’t know if you saw it,” she said to Daddy, “but there’s what we call a pie car over by the dining tent. Serves as a kind of company store.” She glanced at Irma. “Carries real nice writing paper and other supplies, so you can write home. Often.” She grinned and nodded at Daddy. “Now, if y’all will excuse me, I need to get over to the stables and start getting my pony ready for the performance.” She patted Daddy on the arm. “She’ll be all right, Mr. Friedrich. Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of her.” She turned to Irma. “If I was you, I’d separate that wad of bills and tuck ’em in a couple of places folks wouldn’t be so likely to look. But wait until I’m outta here ’cause I don’t want to know where you keep your stash.” She extended a hand to Minnie. “It’ll be a good day for me when our trails cross again.” With a reminder to Irma to get changed and meet her at the stables, Helen left.

  Irma and Minnie hugged. Daddy swept her into his arms, holding her so tight she could scarcely breathe. When he finally let go, he looked down at her and said, “The stage is set, sweetheart. You’ve earned your spot. Now step into that spotlight you’ve always wanted and live your dream.”

  Irma stood at the entrance to her tent and watched until Minnie and Daddy disappeared into the growing crowd of Wild West spectators roaming the back lot. Once they were out of sight she stepped back inside the tent and muttered, “Welcome home, Liberty Belle.” She lowered the flap so she could change. And burst into tears.

  Hiring a boy to round up her trunks and bring them to the house, Willa set out on foot, reveling in the fresh air and the abundance of spring wild flowers blooming along the way. Her time with Louisa Cody had done more than reveal Willa’s attachment to her adopted state. Louisa Cody was a woman on the cusp of divorce, and while Willa could understand her friend’s feelings better than many women, she could also be thankful that Otto’s wanderings had never been public knowledge and were now part of a private and distant past. The Friedrichs had faced their demons, fought their battles, and fallen in love all over again. Just thinking about it set Willa to counting her blessings. She quickened her pace. Oh, it was wonderful to be back home. In fact, as soon as she freshened up and said hello to the girls, she was going to surprise Otto at the bank.

  Ella Jane answered the door. One look at Willa and the girl’s face paled. Willa’s heart skipped a beat. What was wrong? She brushed past Ella Jane, pausing in the hall to listen for voices before going in search of Irmagard and Minnie. She circled the main floor, going first through the dining room, then through the swinging door into the kitchen and onto the back porch before hurrying back up the hall and into the entryway. “Irmagard,” she called up the stairs. “Minnie. I’ve come home.”

  They must have gone to the ranch. She should have known. Otto’s business had taken increasing amounts of his time, and however well intentioned he’d been about helping, he’d obviously sent the girls to the ranch. Ah, well. Perhaps that was for the best after all. While Willa thought aloud, Ella Jane listened, nodding her head in what Willa assumed to be agreement.

  “I’m going upstairs to freshen up and then over to the bank to surprise my husband,” she said. “When Johnny Dolan arrives with my trunks, can you see to them for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ella Jane said, bobbing her head as she agreed. “Of course.”

  “And if Otto and I drive out to the ranch to see the girls, will that cause a problem with whatever you’d planned for supper?”

  “No’m,” Ella Jane shook her head. “Fact is, Mr. Friedrich hasn’t been eating at home. He’s been having supper at the hotel. Without Minnie and Miss Friedrich here, he just said it was too lonely.”

  Willa’s heart warmed to the notion that Otto missed the women in his life so much he’d taken to eating at the hotel instead of alone at the dining table. The dear man. “Well, that’s fine, then. Thank you.” A few minutes later, as she headed out the door, Willa circled back to Otto’s home office, scooped up the day’s mail, and dropping it in her bag, set out for the bank.

  CHAPTER 13

  BUT IF ANY OF YOU LACKS WISDOM

  LET HIM ASK OF GOD . . .

  James 1:5 NASB

  Instead of smiling and jumping up to give her a hug, Otto just sat there staring. The only emotion he seemed to be feeling was disappointment. It was downright hurtful.

  “Is everything all right?” he sputtered. “You and Louisa haven’t had a spat, I hope?”

  “Good heavens no,” Willa said. “I-I missed you. I missed Irmagard.” She laughed at herself. “Good heavens, Otto, I even missed North Platte, if you can imagine that.” She rubbed her arms and gave a little shiver. “All that traffic and noise in Chicago. All those people. And the longer I was there, the more I wondered about Irmagard.”

  “I told you I would see to Irmagard,” he groused.

  Was he angry? Or defensive? “I know you did. But when you didn’t answer my telegram—”

  “What telegram?” He almost barked it. “I didn’t receive any telegram.”

  “I wired you a few days ago to see if everything was all right. And when you didn’t answer, I realized that what I really wanted was to be at home with my family. And—” she blinked back tears—“to be quite honest, I’m more than a little hurt that you haven’t so much as seen fit to get up from behind that desk and give me a kiss.”

  He got up then. Came around the desk. Kissed her on the cheek. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Doing her best to scold herself into adjusting her expectations, Willa gave him a little smile. “That’s better,” she said. “Ella Jane tells me—”

  “You’ve been to the house?”

  Now what did that tone of voice mean? “Well, of course I’ve been to the house. Johnny Dolan’s delivering my trunks. I told Ella Jane that you and I would probably drive out to the ranch for supper tonight. We can, can’t we? I’m not upset with you for letting the girls go out there. In fact, it was probably the best thing. But I’d like to see Irma. To see for myself that she’s all right.”

  “Willa.” As he said her name, Otto grasped her hands in his. Sitting down in one of the chairs that faced his desk, he pulled her into the other. “We need to talk.”

  Willa’s mind raced from who might have died to who might have been injured and landed at Irmagard. Her heart pounding, she stared into Otto’s gray eyes. She should have known something was wrong. Ella Jane had been acting so— “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” She clung to Otto’s strong hands.

  “Irma’s fine, Willa. Better than fine, really.” He looked away. Then, with a sigh, he began to explain. “I’m deeply sorry that you’ve cut your holiday short and come home to find out about it this way. I had . . . I had plans to meet the train next week. Plans to try and—” Swearing softly, he let go of her and stood up. He began to pace back and forth between the oak bookcases on one wall and the filing cabinets on the other. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally, he shoved his hands in his pockets, planted his feet, and said, “I took her and Minnie on a little trip while you were gone. To see Monte in the Wild West in St. Louis. One thing led to another. . . . Bill invited her to audition . . . and . . .”
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br />   Willa held up both hands to signal him to hush. He did. When she didn’t speak, he came back to sit in the chair beside her. He reached for her, but she pulled away. Swiping his hand across his mustache and goatee, Otto waited. It was amazing how the noises from beyond the office door seemed to reverberate in the silent room. The door to the street opened and closed a few times. Tellers called out greetings. Boots clunked as customers made their way toward the tellers’ windows. And still, Willa could not speak as her mind and heart reduced a thousand thoughts and emotions to one painful realization—given the opportunity to choose between Irmagard and his own wife, Otto chose . . . Irmagard.

  “She’s happy, Willa,” Otto said. “If you could have seen her face. You should see the rules Bill has in place to protect the girls’ reputations. They never leave the grounds without an escort. And their privacy is absolutely sacrosanct. Think of it, dear—the education. The travel. When I arranged for the audition, I made it clear she could only be gone for the summer. But then . . .” He swept his hand across his forehead. “They’re going to England next year, Willa. Can you imagine? Our daughter could meet the Queen.” He cleared his throat. “I just couldn’t let anything stand in the way of that.”

  Willa swallowed. Why, she wondered, did any of it surprise her. Otto never denied Irmagard anything. Still, he’d never gone so completely against what Willa wanted. At least not in such an overt manner. Dear God in heaven, help. Please. Help me. Help me now. She could feel herself trembling. In a moment she would be in tears, and she must not cry. She stood up. He did, too—and reached for her.

  She stepped back. “Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you. But Irmagard—”

  But Irmagard. As if that justified everything. He was blathering on, but she wasn’t listening. She needed to get away from Otto so she could calm down. She needed a place where the storm of emotions inside her could wear themselves out without threatening her carefully reconstructed relationship with her husband. She interrupted him. “We’ll talk later.” She headed for the door.