The Jeweled Spur (29 page)

“I suppose you’re right, Con,” Laurie confessed. “It was exciting at first, and I wouldn’t have missed it, but it’s not for me.” She hesitated, leaned back in her chair, and considered the months that had gone by. They seemed almost dreamlike to her now as she thought of them, and yet always, even from the first, there had been a transitory sense about the whole experience. It was as if she had entered into a fairy tale in a book and had become one of the characters. It was exciting to hear the crowds cheer, and to take the ovations that came—but it had no sense of reality. She finally nodded. “You’re right, Con. I suppose it’s all right for some, like Colonel Cody, but I can’t see myself riding around on Star before a bunch of people for the rest of my life.”

“You aren’t made for this kind of moving around.” Con leaned forward and his eyes grew more intense. “I guess I’ve spent all my life on the move, Laurie. Been a hard life, and there’s no way for a man to be a sheriff in the West and stay soft—so I guess I’m a hard man. They say so.”

Impulsively, Laurie leaned over and put her hand on his, and he immediately covered it with his free hand. “You did what you had to do, Con. I think you should be proud of what you’ve done, not ashamed. If it weren’t for lawmen and the army—why there’d be no order at all! It’s part of the growing up of this country.”

“You really mean that, Laurie?”

“Of course I do.” She smiled and tried to withdraw her hand, but his two hands closed in on hers, and he fixed her with his light blue eyes. “I’m glad that you’ve seen that side
of me. I wouldn’t fool you—there’s another side. I’ve got a temper that’s a shame.” He shrugged then, adding, “I’ve learned to keep it under control pretty much now, but when I was a young buck, I was just like a stick of dynamite.”

Laurie tugged at her hand but found that he was not willing to release it. “You’re holding my hand, Con. Everybody will see it,” she said, feeling a little uneasy.

“Let them see.” He leaned forward and there was an earnestness in his face. “I want to marry you, Laurie.”

Suddenly, his words threw a hush over the rest of the talking in the restaurant—or at least so it seemed to Laurie. Astonished, she stared at him, her mouth half open with the shock of his announcement. She had known that he liked her, but there had never been anything serious—or so she had thought. Now, she struggled for the words, and seeing that she could not speak, Con released her hand and leaned back in his chair. “I know you’ve never thought of me as a man you might marry.”

“I’ve never thought of
anyone
like that. I guess I’ve never thought of marriage much, although every girl comes to it. Most of them, anyway.”

“You’re the finest girl I’ve ever seen, Laurie,” Con said simply. “I care for you, and I’d like to get away from this show business, get a place somewhere out West. Just a small place . . .”

He went on for a while, speaking about a ranch, and when he had finished, Laurie said shakily, “But, Con, that kind of place was what I ran away from. It was an army post, and I felt like I would go crazy there.” She went on to relate how earlier she had wanted to be a writer, how she had fled at the first chance to the college, and how she had dreaded going home again when it seemed that was going to be necessary.

“You still think you want to be a writer?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught Laurie off guard, and she said in a halting fashion, “Why—why I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Are you doing any writing now?”

Laurie dropped her eyes and shook her head. “No, to tell the truth, I’m not. All I’m doing is riding Star and going from place to place.”

There was a moment’s silence, and Con Groner, who was an intuitive man with a pair of very sharp eyes and much experience in watching people, said, “It’s Logan, isn’t it?”

“Logan?”

“I’ve seen how you watch him, Laurie. And everybody knows how you two got together. You were friends before, weren’t you?”

“We had known each other,” Laurie said. “And he was down on his luck. But he’d not think of marriage, and I’m not thinking of it either.”

They sat there, and the talk fell away. There was now a strain between the two that Laurie hated. Finally, she rose and said, “I’ve got to get back, Con.” He paid the check, and the two walked out of the hotel and took a carriage back to the showgrounds. When she got out, she turned to face him, and after he’d paid the cab driver and turned to watch her face, she said, “I can’t marry you, Con. And it wouldn’t be fair of me to give you any hope.”

A sudden smile touched the lips of Con Groner, and he said, “I may not look like much, but I don’t give up easy. Oh, you don’t have to worry. I won’t be pestering you—but I’ll be back again someday, and I’ll expect a different answer.”

****

Con and Laurie were not the only ones who had gone into Little Rock for supper. Cody, after the show, had unsaddled his horse, seen to his grooming, then had picked up a rope and gone back into the arena. For thirty minutes he practiced some of the more difficult tricks that he hoped to add to his act later on. He failed several times on one of the more difficult ones, finally slapped the rope against his thigh, and complained aloud, “Blast it, can’t never get that right!”

“You’re not swearing, are you, Jim?” He turned quickly to find Leona standing ten feet away, and suddenly he felt foolish.

“Not fair,” he said, coiling up his rope. “I don’t sneak around and watch you practice and see how many times you miss those little balls.”

She laughed and came over and stood close enough for him to smell the perfume she always wore—like honeysuckle. “You don’t miss much,” she said. “That was a pretty hard one. Think you can manage it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Well, you can practice some other time.” She took his arm and said, “Tonight, you’re taking me into Little Rock for an evening out.”

She knew how to charm a man, and Cody, tired of the routine and hard work, grinned and said, “I guess you don’t give a man much choice, Leona. Let’s go do it.”

She had been to Little Rock before and showed him a few of the sights. Finally, they had gone to see a production of a play that was given at the Williams Auditorium. It was a production touring company with a famous actress as a star. Cody, who had never seen a performance of this sort, was enthralled. He sat there, caught up with the action, and Leona was amused to see him shifting, and moving, and muttering under his breath, trying to influence the action on the stage. The young star was threatened by a slick-looking villain, and Cody murmured once, “What’s the matter with that girl? Can’t she see he’s nothing but a snake?”

Leona slapped his arm slightly. “Most women are willing to be fooled by men,” she said quietly.

Later on, they went to supper at a rather small cafe with very good food, and he talked with animation about the play all through the meal. Leona sat there, enjoying the meal and his conversation. Finally, she said, “I’ve never heard you talk so much. Maybe I need to take you to a play every night to keep your spirits up.”

Cody blinked with surprise, then shook his head. With a
rueful grin, he said, “I guess I just got carried away. I didn’t know a play could do a thing like that to a fellow!”

“I could show you a lot of things if you’d crawl out of that shell you’re in.” Leona leaned forward and said, “You’re a strange fellow, Jim. I’ve never known a man like you.”

“Be glad of that,” he said brusquely and looked down at the coffee, keeping his eyes away from hers.

“Why do you always put yourself down?” she demanded. She made a lovely picture as she sat there. She had worn a pale green dress that went well with her green eyes, and she had dressed her hair carefully in the newest fashion. There was a sensuous quality in this woman, and she used it almost instinctively. Finally, she said, “Come on, let’s go back to the arena.”

Leaving the cafe, they made their way across town, and when they got out of the carriage, she said, “It’s too early to go to bed. Let’s walk.”

“All right,” said Cody.

They walked around the perimeter of the arena, hearing the snorting of the horses and the nervous movement of the huge buffalo. They passed Sitting Bull, who was taking his nightly stroll, and he stared at them without expression. Finally, she led him to a spot just outside the arena that had been made into a small park. “Look,” she said. “There’s a bench. I’m tired. Let’s sit awhile.” She pulled him down beside her, and for some time, they sat there speaking quietly. He spoke of the show and the people in the acts, and for a while she listened, adding a few comments. Then she said, “What do you think of me?”

Cody’s head swiveled at once, and he said, “Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t know,” Leona said in her husky voice. “Most of the time, I know what a man’s thinking. But I’m never sure of myself with you.”

This was true, and it had piqued her. She was accustomed to controlling men and, in her short life, had learned that
this was not a difficult thing for a beautiful woman to do. Very rarely had she met a man who could not be put into a category, and that was why this man fascinated her. She had given him more covert and subtle encouragement than she had ever given any man, yet still he somehow remained distant, in a world of his own.

They were surrounded by a few saplings, and the wind was breathing quietly across the grounds. Suddenly, she reached up and turned toward him, taking his arm. “Don’t you ever think of me as anything except a trick shot artist, Jim?”

Cody could not answer for a moment. Some of the lanterns were still on, and by their light, he saw her enormous eyes and felt again the desires that a man knows when he is this close to beauty. “I think of you as a beautiful woman—which you are.”

“You’ve never told me that,” said Leona softly.

“Everyone else has. You’ve heard it enough, I expect.”

Something in his words troubled her, and she dropped her eyes, then raised them again. “I’ve been too free with men. That’s what you think.”

“Not for me to say,” Cody said quickly. “I’m not judging anybody.”

From far away came the sound of a train whistle, and she shivered a little, leaning against him. “That’s the lonesomest sound in the world, isn’t it?”

He looked at her, bending closer, and said, “Why would you say that?”

“I guess because I’ve heard so many of them, and I’ve run so far that I just can’t stand to think of another train, another town, another—” She almost said
another man,
but she broke off.

“Leona, you don’t have to be afraid. You could have a dozen men. Any one of the bachelors in the show would jump at the chance to marry you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Jim,” she said. And then she waited, and there was such a vulnerability, for the first time, in her soft
lips, that Cody did not feel intimidated. He leaned forward, thinking,
This is wrong,
but he could not withhold himself. He took her in his arms and held her firmly—there was no holding back, not to this woman. She met him fully, openly, and the kiss he gave was returned with an intensity that shook him from his heels to his crown. He sensed the longings that were in her, and at the same time, there was something of a child that had been lost and was searching for security. He felt that as he let his lips linger on hers, aware of her softness as he held her. Finally, he drew back and said in a husky voice, “You’re a sweet girl, Leona. For some man, you’ve got everything. But I guess I’ll never get married.”

She rose, and he saw for an instant the tears in her eyes. “Good-night,” she said quickly and left him there in the darkness. As she walked away, she realized that the kiss had shaken her in a way that had not come for many years, and a feeling of despair touched her as she made her way toward her tent.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Little Sure Shot

Laurie never forgot the day that Annie Oakley and Frank Butler joined the show. Buffalo Bill never forgot it either, for though there were many fine performers with his organization, none outshone the tiny young woman who seemed unable to miss any sort of a target with any sort of a gun.

Laurie was first aware of the couple who had entered the arena early that morning after breakfast when Cody said, “That’s a nice lookin’ couple, isn’t it?”

Evidently, the pair saw Cody and Laurie watching them, for they came straight over to them. The man, tall and fine looking, took off his hat, saying, “Do you know where I can find Colonel Cody?”

“I imagine he’s with Nate Salsbury. I can take you to him.”

The man shook his head. “We’d like to see him out here, if you don’t mind asking him to come.”

A little mystified, Cody turned and walked away as the man called out, “I’m Frank Butler and this is my wife, Annie.”

After Cody disappeared, Butler nodded to Laurie. “Wonderful act you have, Miss Winslow.”

Laurie flushed a little, as she always did when she received such praise, then said, “With a horse like Star, almost anyone could be a trick rider.”

The young woman called Annie smiled. She was as small and dainty as her husband was tall and well built. “I ride a little,” she said, “but I wouldn’t ever be able to do the things you do.”

Laurie stood there chatting with them, liking the young woman very much, and when she looked up, she said, “There’s Colonel Cody.”

At once the pair turned to meet him, and the man said, “Colonel Cody, my name’s Frank Butler. I’m a trick shot artist, and this is my wife, Annie.”

Buffalo Bill slipped off his hat to the diminutive young woman, bowed, and said regretfully, “Well, I do most of the trick shooting myself, me and Johnny. And we’ve got a young woman named Leona Aimes who’s good.”

At once Butler said, “My wife shoots, too. I think you ought to see what she can do. She’s better than I am, Colonel.” After a little convincing, the Colonel agreed to a demonstration, and almost at once, Laurie and the men who had come to watch saw that the youthful woman by his side was far better than Butler himself. Butler hit the target as often as his wife, but she was more certain of herself and took less time in aiming. Annie worked the lever of a rifle and fired as fast as any of them had ever seen, shattering blue glass balls that her husband tossed into the air. And when she had finished, Butler said, “And that’s firing real bullets, Colonel, not sand.”