Wherever You Go

by Tracie Peterson

  “That is exciting.” Lizzy raised her eyebrows and cocked her head as she turned to look at Jason. “What say you and Uncle Oliver?”

  “We agree. It’s a marvelous idea, and I believe readers both in America and England will find the articles interesting,” Jason declared.

  “I thought maybe you could introduce Christopher to the others,” Brookstone said. “Since he has a particular fondness for sharpshooting and has already met Mary, you could start there.”

  “I need Lizzy’s assistance on several tasks related to our England trip,” Jason interjected before Lizzy could reply. “I wonder if, since Mr. Williams has already made the acquaintance of Mary, perhaps she would be a better choice to show him around.”

  “That would be a grand idea,” Brookstone replied. “Lizzy can take you to Mary. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help in this matter.”

  Lizzy nodded and got to her feet. Chris rose and extended his hand to Oliver Brookstone. “Thank you, Mr. Brookstone. I appreciate your confidence in me.”

  The Kansas City performances went without any trouble or complications, and they made their way to St. Louis. The city welcomed them with a parade that showered confetti like rain. In St. Louis, Mary’s shooting contest proved to be even easier than the one in Topeka. The older man who won the St. Louis title was enamored with her and far more attentive to sweet-talking than shooting. He only managed to shoot two of the globes before missing the third.

  Mary waited to perform her final tricks while Alice commanded the audience’s attention with her last act. A row of ten flaming hoops had been arranged for her to shoot through while at a full gallop. Alice loosed a series of arrows from one end and then the other, and each time not only hit her mark, but hit the bull’s-eye. The crowd rose to give her a standing ovation. Alice gave them a wave with her bow as she slowed her mount and exited from view.

  Meanwhile, Mary had set up a series of targets and would seek a volunteer from the audience to finish her performance. She would complete what Oliver called her “deadeye” tricks, which were the ones that always received the biggest applause. After all, they endangered the life of a human being.

  “And now comes our chance to involve a member of the audience,” Oliver announced. “We need a brave soul—one who has no fear of Mary shooting directly at him or her.”

  For a moment the audience went silent, then one by one, several men raised their hands.

  “Mary, darling, please come out here and make a choice.”

  That was Mary’s cue. She had donned a different costume for her final act. Rather than wear her standard red Stetson and split skirt with an embroidered western-style blouse, Jason Adler had convinced her to dress up for her final act. He thought it would further the amazement of the audience to see a beautiful young woman decked out in jewels and silks making crack shots like a buffalo hunter of old.

  Tonight she wore a fashionable gown of blue silk. The dress had a tightly fitted waist to show off her slim figure and puffed sleeves banded just above the elbow, trimmed in ivory lace. Lizzy had helped her fashion her dark brown hair into curls piled high upon her head. In the middle of this, they had secured a costume broach that flashed whenever the light hit it just right. Judging by the deafening applause she received, the look was successful.

  Taking her time, Mary sauntered to where Oliver stood with his megaphone in hand.

  He took her gloved hand and kissed it as he bowed. Then he turned to the audience and roared, “Isn’t she the most beautiful sharpshooter in the world?” The noise level threatened to bring down the roof. Satisfied that the audience was stirred to a frenzy, Oliver quieted them again. “Now, Miss Mary—who will be the lucky man to partner with you in tonight’s final shooting act?”

  Mary scanned the crowd. There were hundreds of men with their hands raised. Some waved madly, while others stood not moving a muscle. She was about to choose a rather burly-looking older man when she caught sight of Christopher Williams. She’d already spent a good part of the morning with him and found he rather intrigued her. She liked that he was educated and yet still fascinated by the show.

  She leaned in close to Oliver. “I’m going to choose Mr. Williams. After all, he wants to experience this show firsthand.”

  Oliver chuckled. “It’s up to you.”

  Mary nodded and made her way over to Chris, who sat with his hand in the air. She reached out and took his hand. A sigh of disappointment swept across the audience, but Mary was used to this.

  She and Chris made their way to the area where she was set to perform her tricks. “I hope you realize you’re putting your life in my hands,” she said with a smile.

  “I have a feeling the risk is minimal,” Chris replied with a wink.

  She tried not to show the effect he had on her with that simple action. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up making a mistake, and then Chris might be injured.

  Oliver explained the trick she was about to perform. Mary went through several exaggerated motions of placing Chris in just the right position. For one trick she had him hold a small chicken feather out in front of him. She then shot the feather in half.

  The next trick offered a little more risk. Mary had him hold a small candle between his teeth and stand sideways. She then had Oliver light the candle. Silence blanketed the stands. Mary took her mark and aimed her .38. She fired and easily extinguished the flame. The audience cheered and clapped wildly. Chris ran the back of his hand across his forehead to show the audience the pressure he was under. Mary couldn’t help but smile at his theatrics.

  For her final trick, she placed Chris a foot in front of a thick curtain and then set an apple atop his head. Rather than use the .38, she opted for her Stevens Crackshot .22 rifle. She also picked up a mirror and walked farther away than she had for the other tricks.

  With a trained eye, Mary considered the target for a moment, then motioned to Oliver. She pretended to whisper something in his ear, and Oliver pulled back, putting a gloved hand to his mouth. As the audience became caught up in the moment, he replaced the hand with his megaphone.

  “She says the target is too big!”

  At first there were murmurs, then ahs and finally applause as the apple was replaced with a large strawberry. Mary smiled as the look of confidence left Christopher’s face and was replaced with worry. The way his brows knit together gave her a momentary feeling of guilt.

  Pushing that aside, Mary took her mark and raised her rifle with one arm. By now, most everyone had forgotten the mirror she’d taken from the table. She pretended to sight the target for a moment, then whirled on her heel and put her back to Chris. She turned the gun around and rested it on her right shoulder.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we must have absolute silence,” Oliver announced. “This trick is deadly at best, and with the new difficulties Miss Reichert has put upon herself, we must insist on doing everything possible to aid her.”

  You could have heard a pin drop. Mary raised the mirror with her left hand and found her target. Chris looked a little unnerved by this latest development, but he stood in complete trust, at her mercy.

  She aimed and pressed the trigger with her thumb. The rifle fired, and the strawberry blew to pieces. She lowered the rifle and turned. The audience, although momentarily stunned, began to cheer and call her name. It was the perfect ending to her act.

  Walking back toward Chris, who stood stock-still despite the pieces of strawberry in his hair, Mary grinned. “You were a very brave participant, but I fear you’ll need to wash your hair.”

  “It was my . . . well, not exactly my pleasure, but it was an interesting experience.” He reached up to feel the top of his head. “You sure all of that is just strawberry? No blood?”

  Mary laughed and turned him toward the audience as Oliver called out for the crowd to herald his bravery. Chris took a bow, and Mary sent him back to his seat.

  All in all, it was a satisfactory evening. Still, she couldn’t help but chuckle as she
made her way from the arena. It would be interesting to hear what he had to say about the act once they were alone.

  But to her disappointment, Mary saw nothing of Chris when the show ended. The local newspaper reporters came to question the performers and get statements from Oliver, but Chris was nowhere to be found. Hopefully she hadn’t frightened him off the story. Jason Adler had already spoken to her about the importance of the magazine covering the wild west show.

  When the interviews concluded, Mary gathered her things. First, she saw to her rifle and pistol. No one else was ever allowed to handle her firearms. She placed them in their custom-made carrying cases. Once they were on their way to the next city, she would clean them, but for now she just wanted to ensure their safety. Next, she worked with Alice to finish packing the props. With Jason’s focus on saving the show money, the performers found themselves responsible for many things that had once been done for them.

  “Ladies, I need your costumes as soon as you can get back to the train and change,” Agnes said, her niece Brigette at her side. “We need to get to the laundry first thing.”

  “Not a problem, Aggie,” Mary replied before Alice could. “We’re nearly done.”

  “I’ll manage it all from here, girls,” Phillip DeShazer said, coming from behind Mary to hoist up a crate. Phillip, Wesley DeShazer’s brother, had come along with the show to help wherever needed. Most of the time he worked with the animals, but when it came to heavy work, he and Alice’s husband, Carson, were in charge.

  “Thanks, Phillip. I’ll see you on the train,” Mary said, picking up her firearm cases. She turned to speak to Agnes, but the seamstress and her niece were already on the move toward where Gertie was trying to manage her horse.

  It was raining as Mary stepped outside. She paused under the awning to see where the performers’ carriage might be. Lizzy was talking with Jason in the doorway of one of the stock buildings across the way. Not ten feet to Mary’s right, Wesley DeShazer stood watching them from the shadows.

  “You look put out,” she said, joining him. “Surely you don’t think you have anything to worry about with Adler.”

  Wes gave her only a momentary glance. “He irritates me. Lizzy told him she has an understanding with me, but he doesn’t care. He’s insistent that he can woo her and win her over.”

  “Perhaps you should put a ring on her finger and make your feelings more . . . visible.”

  “It wouldn’t stop a man like Adler.”

  Mary looked at the couple. Jason moved even closer to Lizzy and leaned his face close to hers as if to share a secret. Wes started to move, but Mary put her arm out to hold him back.

  “You don’t want to make a scene, Wes. Lizzy can handle Adler. You know very well that she’s completely devoted to you. She has been for most of her life.”

  Wes drew in a deep breath and let it go. He looked down at Mary and nodded. “I’d best go find Phillip and help with loading up.”

  “He’s inside, getting our props.”

  “At least he’s sober.”

  Mary had heard that Wes was having trouble keeping his brother from sneaking out to get a drink during the tour. She didn’t want to dwell on that, however. “He certainly seems to enjoy Ella’s company.”

  Phillip had spent the winter at the Brookstone ranch in Montana following Ella Fleming around whenever he wasn’t busy breaking horses. He was quite smitten, and since Ella had run away from home, she was a permanent resident at the ranch. It afforded them many chances to see each other.

  “He doesn’t have the sense the good Lord gave him,” Wes replied. “I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen to him. He’s no good for anything or anyone until he stops drinking completely.”

  Mary could hear the pain in his voice. “He has to figure things out for himself. You can’t be his savior.”

  “I know.” Wes finally seemed to relax and forget about Lizzy and Jason. “Nor do I want to be. He was gone from my life for a long time. Left after our pa died. Ma worried something terrible, and I admit I did too. I figured he’d show up at the funeral when our ma died, but he didn’t, and now that he’s back . . . well, I don’t want to lose him again. I figure the next time he disappears, he might get himself killed.” Wes stiffened. “Sorry. I know what with August, that was probably an unfeeling thing to say.”

  “It’s all right, Wes. I miss August more than I can begin to say. I keep feeling like there ought to be something I can do to get justice for him. I keep praying, but God hasn’t done anything about it.”

  Wes shook his head. “I know it can’t be easy for you. Especially with Ella around to remind you of it. I admire you for being her friend though. It’s clear she had nothing to do with it.”

  “She has become a dear friend. I wish she’d told us what she knew sooner, but I can understand that she was afraid of her father and that monster, Spiby.” Mary sighed and gave a shrug. “I guess you and I need to find a way to rest in the Lord and let Him see to our problems, but it sure isn’t easy.”

  Wes glanced at Adler, who now stood alone. “Nope. It sure isn’t.”

  Mary left him there and made her way to the carriage that would transport the performers back to the train station where the Brookstone cars waited on the siding. She wished she could find peace of heart where her brother was concerned, but the outrage of his murder wouldn’t allow it.

  Even after supper, when most of the troupe had retired for the night, Mary couldn’t settle her mind. She decided a long walk might help her sleep. Dressing in her split skirt and work blouse, Mary considered the dangers that might await her in the large city. She put on an oversized men’s coat and then slipped her five-shot pistol into the right-side pocket.With her gun at hand, there was nothing Mary feared. She’d been dealing with attackers since she was a little girl. Most of those had been snakes and other varmints, but now and then a man had tried to strong-arm her. It was his last mistake where she was concerned. She’d never had to shoot to kill, but she had wounded a couple of men in her life. Jefferson Spiby, her brother’s killer, was one of them. When he nearly choked the life out of Ella, Mary had found it necessary to shoot. She’d wanted nothing more than to kill him, but her conscience had won out, and she’d winged him instead.

  “I wish I’d put that bullet in his head,” she muttered as the gravel beneath her feet crunched.

  “Where you headed, Mary?” Chris appeared from the shadows between train cars.

  “I needed a walk. What are you doing, skulking around in the dark?”

  “I was just plotting my article.” He shrugged. “I do some of my best thinking this way. How about I walk with you? St. Louis isn’t the kind of place for a lady to be out walking alone at this hour.”

  Mary smiled and patted her pocket. “I’m not quite alone. But I’m always happy for the company of a friend.”

  “And you consider me a friend? I’m honored.”

  She heard the pleasure in his voice and shrugged. “I see no reason we should not be friends. Especially since you’ll be with the troupe for the rest of the year.”

  “True enough, but I find friendship can be difficult to cultivate. I haven’t many friends.”

  “My oma says you must be one to get one.” She smiled. “So perhaps this is a good place to start. I can get to know you better as we walk.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “I heard Jason Adler say that you grew up in London, but you were born here in America.”

  “That’s true enough.” They started across the tracks toward the depot. “I moved to London when I was six years old. I have few memories of life in America prior to that. I returned to America just last year and started to work for the magazine earlier this year.”

  “And what did you do in between?”

  “In between what?” he asked.

  “Between coming back to America and starting to work for the magazine. Surely you must have had another job.” He fell silent for a moment and Mary wonder
ed at his hesitation. “Did I pry too deep?”

  Chris shook his head. “No. I was, ah, trying to figure out how best to say this.”

  “Just say it. You don’t need to worry about phrasing it in any particular way. I’m pretty down to earth, and you don’t have to impress me.”

  “Well, that’s the problem. I didn’t want to sound as if I were trying to impress you. You see, I received an inheritance, and when I returned to America, I used some of that money to spend a year traveling and getting to know my homeland again.”

  “I think that’s marvelous.” Mary nearly lost her footing in the gravel and was glad Chris took her arm. “Thank you. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking when I slipped on these shoes. I should have gone for my boots.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  As they neared the depot building, Oliver Brookstone and Jason Adler came through the door. They were surprised to see Mary and Chris.

  “What are you two up to?” Oliver asked.

  “Just needed a little air,” Mary answered.

  “Well, the train is going to be hitched at eleven thirty, and we’re leaving soon after that.” Oliver took out his pocket watch and held it toward the lamplight. “That’s in just one hour.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t be gone that long, Mr. Brookstone,” Chris said before Mary could reply.

  “Now, son, I told you to call me Oliver. We don’t stand on formalities around here. We’re a family, and since you’re going to be traveling with us for the season, you are family as well.”

  Chris nodded. “I like the sound of that, Oliver.”

  The older man nodded and replaced his watch. “Good. Then I’ll expect you two back well before we’re ready to leave.”