by Kari Bovee
Annie grasped the railing, peering down at Frank and Buck.
Frank’s pale face glowed against the deep blue of the water. He was gasping for air against the rain and the swells, and his soaked hair streamed into his eyes as he struggled to hold Buck’s head above the water. Immobilized by the drug, the horse had stopped flailing.
Unable to bear the sight of her beloved horse and her husband fighting for breath, Annie ripped off her jacket and her boots, climbed up onto the railing, and jumped overboard.
Annie hit the surface hard, plunging deep into the icy water, all the air pushing out of her lungs. Her dress and petticoats billowing over her head, she had to fight against the fabric to get to the surface. She popped up, and pushing the hair out of her face, swam over to Frank and Buck.
“My God, Annie, you could have killed yourself. What are you doing?” Frank shouted above the noise of the rain and crashing whitecaps.
“Everything I hold dearest in my heart is in this water. I want to be with you both.” Annie yelled into the wind, the waves cresting around the three of them. “They are going to use the crane and a net to haul Buck on board. Are you all right, Frank? You aren’t cut or bleeding?”
“No. I’m fine. Help me with his head.” Frank’s face strained against the water slapping against his chin. Buck’s eyes took on a vacant stare, his body still, rising and falling with the waves.
Annie swam over to Buck’s other side, scanning the water for blood, but there was none. The freezing waves lifted them up several feet and then sank so fast that Annie’s stomach lurched. She shivered, the cold sinking into her bones. The sedative and Annie’s presence had calmed Buck’s thrashing, making it safer for them to be so close, but he was struggling to keep afloat.
The sky around them continued to darken, the charcoal clouds rolling over the massive swells. Rain pelted them, and with the water coming down from the sky and the waves heaving up, breathing proved an effort.
A net dropped from above, landing on the water with a loud thud. It oozed out upon the surface like oily paint, held fast by large knotted ropes and two timbers.
“We need to secure the net under his belly so the poles are at his sides.” Frank motioned with his arms, the sleeves of his white linen shirt both clinging to his skin and billowing out in the water. The weight of Annie’s corset and skirts grew heavier by the minute, and she struggled to get in front of Buck to keep his head afloat.
“Stay with me, fella. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
A streak of lightning lit up the sky, and the rain fell harder, moving across the water like a shimmering sheet of glass.
“I can’t hold him up, Frank. I’m too small.” Annie yelled. “I’ll secure the net under him.”
Feeling the weight of her skirts dragging her down, Annie sank under the water, the waves tossing her back and forth. Reaching behind her, she fumbled with the buttons of her skirt, the buttonholes made tight with the swelling of the wool fabric. With a mighty yank, she ripped the buttons from the holes, her body sinking lower into the sea. She wriggled out of her skirt, her lungs clamping down. Her skirt rose above her head, floating toward the surface and she fought to swim upward, past it, desperate for oxygen. She surfaced and gulped air.
“Where’d you go?” Frank’s voice echoed across the water.
“I’m okay.” Annie swam to the nearest pole and disconnected it from the net, her body rising and falling with the swells.
“You hold onto these poles,” she said to Frank.” I’ll swim under Buck with the net, and then we can secure the net to the other pole, and they can hoist him up.”
A wave crashed over their heads. When Annie resurfaced, her husband and Buck had sunk beneath the water.
Quickly, net in hand, Annie dove under and could see Buck’s lifeless body sinking. Frank momentarily resurfaced for air and then came back down to help her.
Working fast, they secured the net under Buck’s belly and got it attached to the poles on either side of the lifeless horse. Frank gave Annie a thumbs up, and she quickly resurfaced.
“Pull him up, now!” Frank shouted to the men on deck.
Within seconds, Buck’s body was drifting upward and breaking through the surface of the massive waves.
Annie’s breath caught in her throat to see her horse, wet and lifeless, his legs dangling at awkward angles, being lifted into the sky. She prayed he hadn’t taken on too much water. Her limbs grew weak, and she leaned her head back to float so she wouldn’t go under. She felt Frank’s arms go around her.
“You are a mighty force, Annie Oakley, and I love you. Hang onto me. They’ll be sending down another lifeboat any moment.”
The two clung together, tossed around in the waves, coughing and sputtering against the rain. As Buck’s body disappeared over the railing of the deck, a lifeboat appeared and then descended into the water.
When it touched the surface, Frank tipped it sideways, allowing Annie to clamber in. Then pulling with all her might, Annie helped Frank drag himself in. The little boat pitched and rolled with Annie and Frank lying on the floor, exhausted, gasping for breath. Soon they could feel the boat rise.
Annie, still breathless, scooted closer to Frank and nestled into the curve of his arm.
“Thank you for jumping in to save my horse. I’ll have to thank Mr. Bhakta, too. That was quite a valiant effort from both of you. I hope Buck is all right.” Annie pushed the hair out of Frank’s eyes.
“Well, darlin’, I had every intention of jumping in, that’s for sure, but somebody helped me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“As I was trying to get my coat off, I noticed Mr. Bhakta standing behind me. He reached out to help me and suddenly, something came from behind us. Next thing I knew, we were both flying over the railing.”
“You mean you were pushed.”
“Yes, my dear, that’s exactly what I mean.”
The lifeboat cleared the railing and then thumped onto the deck. Annie scrambled out, thinking only of Buck.
The horse lay in a puddle of seawater, not moving, unconscious. Mr. Everett and Bobby knelt over Buck’s head, checking his eyes and mouth. Mr. Everett held a wooden object, like a candlestick, in his hand and, after checking Buck’s mouth, pressed the large end of the object against the lower side of the horse’s heart girth.
“How is he? Is he cut? Bleeding?” Annie approached slowly, the wind sending a chill down her back, afraid to hear bad news. She held her hand out to Mr. Post, Buck’s caretaker, and he grasped it with bony, shaking fingers. Rain dripped from his long handlebar mustache and rugged beard. His aged, watery eyes sought hers.
“I don’t see any contusions. He’s going to be fine, Annie.” Mr. Everett said, his voice straining against the wind as he looked up at them. His eyes lingered on Annie’s wet blouse stuck to her corset, and her petticoats clinging to her legs. She’d forgotten she’d ripped off her skirts and coat, but really, at a time like this, what did it matter?
“Mr. Everett?”
“Oh. Yes. The horse’s lungs sound like they’re clear, and he seems to be breathing normally. Once the drug starts to wear off, he’ll come to, and we can get him back to his stall.”
“Thank goodness.” Annie’s head swam with relief, and she sank down onto her knees, the pitching and rolling of the ship making it difficult to stand. Icy rain pelted her back, and the dampness of her petticoats and corset chilled her to the bone.
“He’s going to be fine, Annie.” Bobby patted the horse’s neck, a grin splitting his face.
Mr. Post swiped at his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t take care of that yella’ fellow anymore. I’ve grown right fond of him.” Small, skinny, and aging more rapidly than Annie cared to admit, Mr. Post, she knew, took great pride in caring for Isham and Buck, two of the most famous horses of the era.
“You must get out of your wet clothes, Little Miss Sure Shot, and take shelter from the storm.” Chief Red Shirt had appeared
.
“Always so concerned about me.” Annie stood up and reached for the lanky Indian chief. She pressed herself against his elaborate bone vest and the decorated braids that hung to his waist. “We saved Buck.” Annie swallowed the hitch in her throat, relieved and grateful her horse and her husband were alive and well. But Frank’s mentioning he had been pushed overboard created a whole new anxiety. Her initial uneasiness about the voyage when they’d boarded the ship returned, but for entirely different reasons. Was her husband in danger? And if so, from whom and why?
The chief patted her cheek. “It gives me great pleasure that your wonder horse will survive. He has a great spirit.”
“The horse will be fine.” Mr. Everett stood up, never taking his eyes from Buck. “But I am afraid Mr. Bhakta did not fare as well.”
As fast as the rain and wind had come, the storm began to abate. Some of the ship’s crew, Mr. Patel, and the colonel stood over the deceased Mr. Bhakta. Someone had placed a coat over his body, now soaked with rain and seawater. Annie, Frank, and Bobby joined them at Mr. Bhakta’s feet.
“He’s dead?” Bobby’s voice cracked.
Mr. Everett knelt next to the body. He removed the coat and studied Mr. Bhakta from head to toe.
“Does he have any signs of injury? Any bleeding?” Annie asked. “I could have sworn I saw red in the water.”
“It doesn’t appear so.” Mr. Everett moved Mr. Bhakta’s limbs, looking for lacerations. “Let’s get him—and us—inside, out of the storm. I’d like to take a closer look at him.”
Frank and Annie exchanged glances.
“We’ll come with you.” Annie knelt down next to one of Mr. Bhakta’s legs. Mr. Everett and Bobby lifted the man’s chest and shoulders off the deck and Annie and Frank took his legs.
Once downstairs in the grand foyer, the Indian players and other passengers began to gather. Gasps and screams could be heard from some of the Indian women and children. The captain of the ship entered, pulling down the hem of his uniform. His captain’s hat pressed down on his forehead, making it difficult to see his eyes, but from the stern set of his mouth and his subtle, if not invisible, mannerisms, Annie could tell this man aimed for perfection in everything—his dress, his crew, and his ship. He eyed her odd state of dress.
Now that she’d come to her senses, the stares of the other passengers and the captain alerted her to the fact she was barely clothed and what she was wearing clung to her skin. Bobby removed his coat and handed it to her. With a nod of thanks, she wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You realize, Miss Oakley, it is dangerous to jump overboard. Your life is worth far more than the horse’s,” the captain said sternly, hands behind his back. “I hope we won’t have any more incidents of this nature.”
Annie blinked, surprised at the condescension in the captain’s tone. Didn’t he realize Buck’s worth—not only financially, but to her personally? Her heart pounded with indignation. As if sensing her rising temper, Frank squeezed her upper arm. Annie took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
“Sir, my horse and my husband were fighting for their lives in that water. I’m sorry if they inconvenienced you. Perhaps you should take up your complaints with the colonel, but we have a much more delicate situation here. Mr. Bhakta—”
“Ah, yes, I am aware.” The captain raised his chin, and his gaze traveled over Annie’s head and sought Frank and Mr. Everett’s. “Please take Mr. Bhakta to my stateroom. I’ll have the ship’s Dr. Adams meet you there. I must get back to the helm. The engine has been repaired, and we are ready to get underway. I’ll check back with you later.” The captain clicked his heels together and turned from the group.
“But, Captain—” Annie reached out to grab his arm, but Frank steadied her.
“Simmer down, Annie.”
“But he’s so—and what about Mr. Bhakta—and you and Buck?” Annie sputtered, looking up into Frank’s blue-gray eyes.
“I know, Annie. But he is in charge. You’re upset, and with good reason, but please calm down. We’ve all had a great shock.”
“You said you and Mr. Bhakta were pushed. I’m trying to remember who was standing at the railing with us, but I was so consumed with worry about Buck that I took no notice. Do you remember?”
Frank shook his head. “Everett was there with us, but I think he was ready to go after Buck himself. I don’t see why he would have done it.”
Annie sighed, resting her forehead against Frank’s chest, the smell of wet wool filling her nostrils. “I don’t like this, Frank. I don’t like it at all.”
Chapter Four
Frank held Annie close, his cold, wet shirt and waistcoat pressed against her equally frigid shift, making her shiver.
Moments later, a striking man in a gray suit with leather satchel in hand arrived. He motioned for Mr. Everett, Frank, and Bobby to pick up the body and follow him. Her teeth chattering from the cold, Annie put her small arms though the large sleeves of Bobby’s coat as she followed the men to the captain’s stateroom. She hadn’t realized how much Bobby had grown in the past couple of years. She felt like a child wearing her father’s clothes, but was grateful for the warmth.
“Please, step aside, people.” Dr. Adams took one of Bhakta’s legs and held an arm out to protect them from the crowd. “Go back to your rooms.”
Once they had placed Mr. Bhakta’s body on the captain’s bed, Dr. Adams and Mr. Everett began to undress him.
“Miss Oakley, it might not be appropriate for you to be here.” Dr. Adams gave her an indulgent smile while he let Mr. Everett finish removing Bhakta’s shoes. He placed his arms behind his back in an authoritative manner.
Annie tried to temper her irritation at his insinuation that she was simply a weak-minded woman who could not bear the sight of a dead man. If he only knew.
“It might not be, but we are guests of the queen, and Mr. Bhakta was our escort. I’d like to know what happened. First hand.”
Dr. Adams turned to Mr. Everett, a look of reluctance and resignation in his face. “Tell me what happened.”
“I tried to resuscitate him when we got him back on board,” Mr. Everett tugged at one of Bhakta’s sleeves to remove it from his already rigid, lifeless body. “But it was far too late by then. I briefly examined him.” Mr. Everett hesitated when he removed Bhakta’s sleeve to reveal dark purple blooms of bruising on the dead man’s arm. Annie’s breath caught in her throat.
Dr. Adams leaned over the body, pushing Mr. Everett out of the way.
Mr. Everett stepped back, his hand to his mouth, his eyes wide. “I—I assumed he died of drowning.”
“That is possible.” Dr. Adams lifted Mr. Bhakta’s chest and removed the rest of his shirt. Both arms showed the bright, purple mottling of bruising. “But my guess is that this man died of internal bleeding.”
Annie shifted her gaze to Mr. Bhakta’s face. Blood seeped out of his nostrils and from the corners of his closed eyes. She stifled a gag. The image was horrifying, but she didn’t want to appear weak before these men who already seemed to judge her as faint-hearted.
“What could have caused it?” she asked, trying to sound unaffected.
The doctor straightened, his eyes never leaving the body.
“A number of things. Could be a hemorrhagic fever of some kind, in which case, we have to use extreme caution in handling the body so the disease doesn’t spread.” The doctor again leaned over the body. He reached a hand out to the face and gently opened the eyelids. Watery blood streamed out and down Mr. Bhakta’s temples. The whites of his eyes were crimson. The doctor pried open Mr. Bhakta’s lips, revealing bloodstained teeth and pomegranate colored gums.
Annie’s stomach clenched, her nausea returning. Not usually the squeamish sort, she was baffled by her physical and emotional response.
“Excuse me,” the doctor said as he pushed Mr. Everett, Annie, Frank, and Bobby aside. He quickly glanced at Annie and seemed about to say something, but he refrained and continued to und
ress Mr. Bhakta, down to his drawers.
Annie turned her back to the body, feeling the flush of heat come to her cheeks. She could no longer feign complete detachment. The only other man she’d seen in his drawers was Frank. She heard the shuffling of Mr. Bhakta’s undergarment being removed, and then the bed creaked. She assumed Dr. Adams had manipulated the body in a manner to see his backside. The scuffling stopped, and Annie turned her head to see if Bhakta had been covered again. To her relief, the doctor had laid a sheet over Bhakta’s private parts.
“No punctures or wounds,” the doctor stated, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What could have caused the internal bleeding?” Frank asked.
“Certain drugs or chemicals could cause a bleed. Or, perhaps the fall displaced one or more of his organs. Also, some diseases can cause internal bleeding. I’m not absolutely certain he bled internally. Poison also presents like this. We should assume nothing.” The doctor moved toward Mr. Bhakta’s head again. “I can’t say for sure, but the reddening of the eyes and gums are consistent with blood poisoning of some kind. But there is no evidence Mr. Bhakta has suffered any type of injury that would leave an open wound and cause the blood to become infected. Do we know if Mr. Bhakta showed signs of a fever or illness when he boarded the ship?”
“He seemed right chipper,” Bobby piped in, his voice cracking.
“He certainly didn’t seem ill to me. What about you, Frank?” Annie looked into her husband’s face, the lines at his eyes deeper with worry.
“Not at all.”
“Then we can probably rule out illness.” Dr. Adams rubbed at his closely trimmed beard. He leaned over Mr. Bhakta’s body and again pried open his mouth, this time more aggressively.
“What are you doing?” Annie asked.
“I’m looking for lesions in the mouth or down the throat. Blisters. Ulcers. Something of that nature.”
“But why?”
“What time did Mr. Bhakta have his last meal, do you know?” Dr. Adams addressed Annie, ignoring her question.
