Lauraine Snelling (17 page)

C
assie blew out a breath. She needed to provide an excellent performance, but she’d not been able to practice enough to feel really secure about some of the tricks. Better to leave them out rather than fall.

She climbed down out of the wagon box, and Micah led the horses away.

Ransom beckoned to her from the front door. “Let me introduce you before you go get your horse.”

Cassie made sure her public smile was in place and joined him on the front porch. Several other folks were milling about, chatting with each other.

“Miss Lockwood, I want you to meet Josiah Porter, owner of the world-famous Hill City Hotel. Mr. Porter, this is the renowned Cassie Lockwood.”

“Miss Lockwood, I remember seeing your father’s act one time. It is my pleasure to meet his daughter, since I didn’t get to meet him.” With dark hair dusted in silver at the temples and a charming smile, the tall man, dressed in a black suit with a silver-flecked vest, would catch the eye of anyone who saw him. While he could have been thought of as a dandy, she got the distinct impression that he was an astute businessman who enjoyed his work.

Cassie nodded and shook his extended hand. “Thank you. I’ve heard good things about your hotel and Hill City.”

“You must come and have dinner with us sometime soon. This is my wife, Abigail. I think the two of you have a lot in common.”

Ransom interrupted. “Since the weather looks like it may become uncooperative fairly soon, we thought to have Miss Lockwood ride now, and we’ll have the shooting match after we eat.”

“Good, good. Just show us the way.” The man was beaming proudly, as if he had actually just met an important person.

“We’re going to use our large corral for the show. Shame we didn’t build some raised stands.” Ransom nodded for her to go ahead. “I’ll be announcing when you are ready.”

Cassie blinked in the dimness of the barn and found Chief wiping down Wind Dancer with a cloth. They’d polished the silver on her saddle, and now it winked in the light from the door.

“He’s ready but walk him around a bit.”

“I will. Any other suggestions?”

“Go easy. No hurry.”

“Go tell Mr. Ransom that we’ll be right there.”

Cassie rode Wind Dancer out of the barn and looked out to the corral. It appeared that all the guests were gathered, but she couldn’t be certain. She trotted her horse around in a small circle that expanded as she went around again.
Please, Lord, please Lord, let this be good.

When she nodded, Ransom swung open the gate to the corral and stepped inside. “Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment this afternoon, I present Miss Cassie Lockwood, her horse Wind Dancer, and Othello, her faithful hound.” He extended an arm toward her in the best ringmaster tradition.

“Okay, boys, let’s go.” The three of them burst in through the entrance at a fast clip, circled the corral, and slowed a bit, and then Cassie went into her routine. Flying dismounts and mounts, over and under his neck, front to back, back to front, a vaulting dismount, hands in the air. Wind Dancer turned and tore back to slide to a stop right beside her, Othello on the other side.

At the applause, the horse took off again, turned, and this time Cassie mounted on the run, swung over and did the legs-around, switching with her hands on the saddle. Back straight, canter back, and Othello jumped aboard to ride around with them again, and then jumped to the ground. Dead run, plowing stop, spin in place with back feet hardly moving, spin the other direction, and bow. Cassie stayed in the saddle, and from the bow she signaled him to a right turn and pulled a tight circle, and when she waved her hat, Wind Dancer reared and pawed the air. This time she dismounted close to the spectators and asked Wind Dancer, “Did you enjoy the show?”

The audience certainly did; they were applauding enthusiastically.

He nodded and then shook his head.

“Oh, what didn’t you like?”

He walked over and tipped Micah’s hat off before trotting back.

“You didn’t like his hat?” Wind Dancer pawed the ground.

“That’s a shame. What was wrong with it?” She gestured subtly, telling him exactly whom to approach.

The horse trotted over to the fence, lifted the reverend’s hat off his head, and carried it over to Micah.

Reverend Brandenburg hooted. “He stole my hat. Stealing is a sin, you know.” Everyone laughed and clapped some more.

“Ah, you like that one better?”

The horse nodded.

“Do you think Micah might like that one better too?” Another nod.

She had him count and act sad and then kiss the pretty lady but not blow on her. When her hat blew off, he backed up as if frightened, then trotted over and hid behind Cassie, looking over her shoulder.

“Were you bad?” she asked. He shook his head and turned away as if she’d hurt his feelings. When they all laughed, he turned his back and switched his tail. “I’m sorry. Did we hurt your feelings?” A nod. “Would a carrot help?” Another nod. He turned back around and trotted over to Gretchen, who handed him a piece of carrot.

Cassie faced the group and turned on her fill-the-arena voice. “Now that we got that worked out, we want to thank you for coming and hope you enjoy the shooting a bit later.” The three of them bowed again to enthusiastic applause. Cassie swung aboard Wind Dancer, Othello leaped up behind her, and they loped out the gate, applause echoing behind them.

“Hey, Miss Cassie, that was some show,” JD McKittrick from the general store shouted.

She waved to him and rode back around to where the guests were gathered. For some reason she looked to Ransom. He almost smiled, and gave a brief nod. It was the most positive gesture he’d ever made toward her. Gretchen bubbled, a totally happy young lady, and gave both horse and dog bits of carrot.

“Miss Lockwood, that was an excellent show.” Mr. Porter was beaming, as brightly as ever. “From something I read I understand you shoot from horseback too?”

“I do, but we don’t have all the supplies here to do that well. I also have more riding routines, but I’ve been without a show for long enough to make me rusty. I didn’t think you all wanted to see an accident out there. Getting back up to my show days’ expertise will take some doing, but we can adjust.”

“Well, I think we will have to do some real serious planning. We’ll talk after the shooting match.”

Mavis stepped in beside Cassie. “Dinner will be ready as soon as we can dish it up, so let’s go on up to the house.” She smiled. “And Reverend Brandenburg, would you please say grace for us? Oh, and you don’t need a hat to do that.”

With a public smile, Micah returned his hat to him.

Cassie followed Mavis to the house, amazed at the way the lady so smoothly brought the jovial crowd from the corral to her table. Talking excitedly, they streamed into the ranch house and, at Mavis’s direction, settled themselves both around the table and on other chairs. Cassie found herself seated directly across the table from Mr. Porter and his Abigail.

The chatter ceased and the Reverend Brandenburg offered a brief grace. When all had filled their plates and those not at the table found a place to sit, the conversations picked up again.

Mrs. Porter seemed nearly as excited as Gretchen. “How you ever got that horse to do those things, I’ll never know.”

“And I’m sure she’ll never tell,” Mr. Porter assured his wife. “But it sure looked like he could read your mind.”

“Sometimes he gets contrary, and then he can be even funnier. I have a hard time keeping a straight face.” Cassie paused to savor Mavis’s splendid cooking. Perhaps someday she would prepare food like this.

Mr. Porter sobered. “Your father died a few years ago?”

Cassie nodded. “Five years ago. I think his heart broke when my mother died, but it took a few years for it to catch up with him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I believe I read that you and he were a superb shooting team too.”

“He was the best.” She made herself smile, as much as she could manage. “He always dreamed of coming back here to this ranch to raise Appaloosa horses and beef cattle.”

“Well, we welcome you to the Black Hills, Miss Lockwood, and look forward to working with you.”

After they’d finished eating, they all headed outside behind the house to where Lucas and Ransom had set up the targets. Cassie unpacked her guns and filled her pockets with shells. She and some of the men who wanted to pit their skills against hers shot with shotguns first, knocking spinning plates out of the sky. Cassie didn’t miss a one.

“I sure would like to see you shooting pigeons,” Mr. Porter said after she put her shotgun aside.

“I have many times. Live ones are harder than the clay—less predictable.”

Since no one else had pistols, she demonstrated her ease with them on tin cans and bottles lined up on the fence. One of the men tried using his rifle on the bottles but missed. When they switched to the targets, several of the shooters, including Mr. Porter, kept right up with her, hitting the bull’s-eye even as they moved the targets farther away. When she put three bullets into nearly the same hole, the others groaned. No one could match that.

Cassie turned to Ransom. “How about pounding a spike a little way into that post. We can take turns hitting it to drive it home.”

“With a bullet, right?” Mr. Porter drawled.

“Yes, sir. You can set the distance. Or we can do separate targets.”

“Separate might be better.”

She nodded.

“They can’t do that,” someone muttered.

“I can’t do any of it,” another answered.

Cassie loaded her rifle, watching as Chief helped set up the first target.

Mavis raised her voice. “All right, so who’s going to challenge her on this one?”

“I was going to, but I can’t see well enough,” Lucas said, making everyone laugh. His story that he’d walked into a barn door made some laugh and some shake their heads, but no one pushed him on it, not even those who knew the truth. “Ransom?”

“I already missed on the three-in-one. I’m not wasting my shells on this one.”

Mr. Porter rolled his eyes. “Am I the only taker?”

“Looks like it.” Mavis glanced around again, just to be sure. “Who’s shooting first?”

“He can.” Cassie stepped aside.

“After you, Miss Lockwood.”

Cassie grinned at him. “Flip a coin?”

Lucas pulled out a nickel. “You call it, Mr. Porter.”

“Heads.” The coin flipped. Heads. The man would shoot first.

The group quieted, watching intently. Mr. Porter took in a deep breath, let it all out, sighted, and fired three times in rapid succession.

“One hit.” Ransom called after inspecting the target. “Bent the nail.” He got well out of the way. “Ready.”

Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn’t hit all three so they would have to shoot another round. She could hear her father’s voice.

“Breathe and let yourself relax. If you tighten up you’ll miss every time.”

Ransom stepped away. Cassie shrugged her shoulders, let out a breath, and raised her rifle. The first shot missed, but the next two drove the nail deep into the wood. The spectators broke into applause.

“That was some shooting,” someone called.

“One more would have finished the job.” Lucas studied the target. “Sure was close.” He grinned at Cassie. “Some shooting is right.”

“Congratulations, Miss Lockwood. That was mighty fine shooting.” Porter shook her hand. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work out something for you. I’m thinking perhaps to star you in Hill City’s first annual Wild West Days come summer. Draw in a crowd, get some merchants to offer food booths, sales booths—it can be big. In the meantime, let’s talk about an early December match for perhaps a Saturday? That gives me some time to set it up. It’s kind of late in the year, but I’m pretty sure we can draw a crowd.”

“I’d be delighted.” Cassie hoped she sounded more certain than she felt. Hitting that nail had been a real gamble, as out of practice as she still was. Good thing it had a big head.

With daylight waning, the guests began gathering their things to head home. Runs Like a Deer had spent the shooting match in the kitchen washing dishes along with a couple of the other ladies.

“Good for you,” she told Cassie when she came into the kitchen.

“I just hope I can earn us some money to help get through the winter.” She dipped herself a cup of water and drank it down, then joined the others to say their good-byes.

Mr. Porter again shook her hand. “It’s been quite a pleasure to get to know you, Miss Lockwood. I look forward to sponsoring this match, but chiefly I’m looking to other events in the future. I suspect they will be profitable to us both. We will have to talk.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”
At least I hope I am.
Suddenly so much was riding on skills that had grown rusty, an aim that was no longer perfect. She should have hit the nail with all three shots. She waved good-bye wearing her public smile.

But she was only smiling on the outside. What would it take to get ready for trick riding again, riding and shooting, and competition quality marksmanship?

And, the real problem to solve: Could she make enough money at it to pay her family’s expenses? Especially when she had no idea what they might be.