Unbridled Dreams (13 page)

Someone rang the supper bell just as the sun closed in on the horizon and shadows lengthened. Shep Sterling went to look for Irma and found her in the stall with one of the horses Bill Cody had arranged to buy, braiding a hank of dark gray mane. “Seems I’m getting in the habit of finding you stowed away in one stall or another,” he joked. When Irma didn’t respond to the teasing, he said, “In case you didn’t hear it, the supper bell just rang. Everyone’s headed for the house.”

Irma nodded and swiped at her face. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be along directly.”

She’s been crying.
Shep gentled his voice. “I gather this horse is special to you. If you want, I could probably talk Cody into taking him off the sale bill.”

Irma shook her head. “Uncle Charlie already feels bad enough about it. He would never have sold Diamond unless he really needed the money. I’m not going to say a word.” When she glanced up at Shep, her blue-gray eyes were brimming with tears. “And don’t you, either.”

“You mind telling me what’s so special about him?” Shep nodded at the horse.

“He’s my show partner.” She blinked back tears. “He’s kind and good and steady.” She tried to chuckle, but it ended up sounding more like a sob. “And he’s put up with more nonsense from me—bouncing, falling, making him misstep because I did something wrong—and all the time he just kept doing his best to be whatever it was I wanted him to be.” She leaned into the horse and wrapped her arms around his neck, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Shep opened the stall door. “Hey, now.” He put a hand on her back. “Hey.” Sliding his hand to her shoulder, he gently urged her into his arms. She curled against him crying like a brokenhearted child. He liked the way the top of her head tucked right beneath his chin, liked the faint scent of—roses?—in her hair.

All too soon, she stopped crying and pulled away. “Thanks,” she said, and forced a smile as she looked back at the horse. “Stupid, huh.”

“Not stupid at all. And I still think you oughta let me help figure a way to have this one left behind.” Shep reached over and patted the horse’s broad forehead, right where a patch of diamond-shaped white shone from beneath the forelock. “Why don’t you ask your daddy to buy him for you? If Diamond already knows all that stuff about your act, he’d be a much better horse for you than Lady Blaze.” He smiled when Irma looked surprised. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to know you wanted that mare. I imagine you had a speech all planned for your daddy just about the time she let that kick fly.”

Irma sighed. “It’s for the best. I’ve been in a lot of trouble lately over my trick riding,” she said. “Momma hates it.”

Shep leaned back against the side of the stall and pushed his hat back on his head. “I gathered as much. What I don’t understand is why.”

“It isn’t ladylike. And it scares her. She saw me fall the other day and nearly fainted.”

“Maybe if she saw your act when you
don’t
fall—”

Irma shook her head. “It wouldn’t make any difference. She’ll never change.” She moved toward the wide aisle that ran down the center of the barn and, motioning for Shep to come out of the stall, closed the door behind them. Diamond stepped forward and snuffled the sleeve of her dress. “Sorry, old friend. No sugar today.” She tugged on the horse’s forelock, then brushed off her hands and, reaching up to smooth her hair back into place, headed toward the double-wide barn door. “I always knew I’d have to give it up someday.” She blinked rapidly. “I just never thought it would come so soon.”

When she said the word
soon
, her voice dipped. Shep reached out and touched her arm, thinking he might be needed to comfort another spell of crying. Hoping, actually. But Irma just cleared her throat and forced a smile. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I’ve promised Momma to do things her way for the next year. I guess Diamond’s going away is God telling me I’m doing the right thing.”

“What exactly—if you don’t mind my asking—is your momma’s way of doing things?”

“There’s a school in Omaha where all the high-society girls go. It’s called Brownell Hall. Arta Cody already graduated from there. I’m her age, but Momma and Daddy got some special dispensation so I could follow in her hallowed steps.” She corrected herself. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Arta’s a friend of mine. I just . . .

I’m not like her, is all. But Momma has always dreamed of having a daughter who makes her proud.”

They were almost at the ranch house. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor and people talking and laughing floated toward them. Shep persisted. “Seems like she
would
be proud if she only understood just how few women are good enough to be part of the Wild West.”

Irma shook her head. “Nope. She’s embarrassed by the whole idea. And she’ll never change.”

“You might be surprised,” Shep said, and led the way inside.

First white roses. Now this. Willa didn’t know what Shep Sterling was up to, but she was not about to be charmed just because a man showed up at church. Let the rest of the congregation titter and whisper about the presence of the Wild West star as he made his way up the aisle and slid into the second pew from the front. Why did he have to go and sit there? It was going to be a distraction, what with him right in her line of sight.
Honestly.
Willa glanced at Edna Hertz, who had practically dragged her mother up the aisle to where they could sit right behind Mr. Sterling. She had to know she was being obvious. Why didn’t she behave? And if Edna couldn’t behave, why didn’t her mother take her in hand?

Thank heavens Irmagard isn’t here.
While she hoped her daughter would never engage in such outlandish behavior as Edna Hertz, Willa had detected
something
in the air whenever Shep Sterling was around. Oh, the man had been gallant enough that day at Scout’s Rest, rushing for help with Irmagard in his arms. And the roses—while entirely inappropriate—were an indication that he could at least try to be a gentleman. But for all of Shep Sterling’s heroic ways and handsome smiles, Willa was grateful the Wild West train would be leaving the North Platte station day after tomorrow. And that, she thought, would be that. Irmagard could turn her attentions toward the preparatory reading the headmaster at Brownell had suggested.

When Mr. Sterling glanced around and nodded a greeting, Willa nodded back, grateful that the Masons no longer made the long drive into North Platte every Sunday morning—and that at that very moment Irmagard was lined up with the Mason girls on a pew miles away. Charlie had donated land for a cemetery and a little church back when Laura lost their first baby, and just last year the small congregation had seen fit to hire an aging circuit rider as their full-time pastor. Preacher Daniels thumped the pulpit a bit too often for Willa’s taste, but he loved the Lord God.

Willa reached for a hymnal just as Otto slid into the pew next to her. She looked up, surprised but pleased. Otto’s church attendance had waned in recent months. More often than not he dropped Willa and Irmagard at the door and then remembered some pressing matter of business or some correspondence that needed answering. “I can get so much more done when the bank is closed,” he would say. Tempted to despair over her husband’s spiritual life, Willa did the only thing she knew to do—remained faithful in her own attendance, prayed for her husband, and did her best not to nag.

Otto winked as he took the hymnal from her hand. “I realized this is my last chance to escort my bride to church before she leaves for her holiday.”

“But your business?”

“Concluded,” Otto said.

And at that exact moment Shep Sterling glanced over his shoulder and nodded. At Otto.

Just seeing the twenty-six-car Wild West train would have made attending the send-off celebration on Tuesday worthwhile for Irma. Every car was painted to re-create a scene from the performance. While Momma called it garish and in poor taste and said she would stay in the buggy, Daddy agreed with Irma. It was brilliant to turn the entire train into one long moving advertisement for the Wild West. Who could resist such a spectacular invitation to see Indians hunting buffalo or cowboys riding bucking broncos?

Monte said they’d be going through Indiana and Ohio, Pennsylvania and Maryland, New York and the nation’s capital. Every state evoked images of places Irma longed to see. Wouldn’t it be perfect for Liberty Belle to debut in Philadelphia? What would it be like to parade past the White House? And who knew what famous people would be in the audience during the months the Wild West would camp on Staten Island, just across from the city of New York?

It was almost more than Irma could stand to look at that train and know she wouldn’t be on it when it left North Platte. On the car that advertised the cowgirls Buffalo Bill called his Beautiful Rancheras, a female rider stood atop her saddle, her reins in her teeth as she waved her hat in the air. Yet another leaned to the side of her galloping mount as she snatched a hat off the ground. A third
ranchera
sat astride a rearing chestnut horse with four white socks. It was, of course, a coincidence, but Irma thought the horse looked a lot like Lady Blaze.
I can do that,
she thought.
I can do all of it.

As Daddy positioned the buggy near the station platform, Momma called out to one of her friends and waved her over. Mrs. Canfield’s husband owned the hotel whose restaurant Daddy frequented for business dinners and investors’ meetings. An elegant woman, she moved through the gathering crowd with grace. Momma invited her to climb up and watch the festivities without getting crushed in the crowd. Mrs. Canfield accepted, and as Irma climbed down, Daddy assisted Mrs. Canfield in climbing up.

Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laura and the girls joined Irma and Daddy just as they made their way alongside the train toward the stock cars.

“Do you think they’d let us look inside?” Aunt Laura wondered as they passed one of the passenger cars.

“I don’t know why not,” Daddy said. “After all, my bank helped pay for it.” When he motioned for Aunt Laura and the girls to climb aboard, Irma hesitated. Daddy read her mind. “You know Monte and Ned will see that both Diamond
and
Lady Blaze are treated well,” he said. “But come along. We’ll see what we can see.”

The crowd prevented Irma’s seeing anything beyond the tips of antlers as two tame elk and the rest of the Wild West menagerie were loaded. However, once “only the horses” were left, most people headed back to the station to wait for Bill Cody’s arrival. In spite of her obvious nervousness about walking up a gangplank, Lady Blaze followed Diamond without putting up a fuss. The stock car doors clicked shut. It was done. Lady Blaze was beyond her reach and Diamond was gone. Forever. Irma fought back tears.

Daddy put his arm around her. “It’s going to be all right, Irma. I know this is hard for you. But it’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” He hugged her and then pointed toward Bill Cody’s private car. “Even your Momma would live on a train if she got a glimpse inside that car.” He pointed at the members of the cowboy band standing near the front of the train. “Look there. Isn’t that Jason and Jonathan Zigler? The band’s starting to gather. If you want to inspect the troupe’s living quarters, you’d better hurry.” Irma shook her head. It would only make her feel worse to see where Monte and Ned Bishop would be living for the next few weeks. She couldn’t imagine being at the ranch without Monte. She might even miss Bishop.

Glancing around her, Irma realized she wasn’t the only one struggling with her emotions. Most of the people still at the station were saying good-bye to someone they loved. She wondered how Mollie Mason was holding up, how Aunt Laura and Uncle Charlie were feeling.

“Think I’ll go check on your momma,” Daddy said.

“I’ll wait here and watch for the girls to finish touring the train,” Irma said. She quickly regretted that decision, however, when Edna Hertz sidled up.

“Have you seen Mr. Sterling?”

Irma shook her head.

“I promised to give him the dates I’ll be in St. Louis.” She pulled a note from the pink silk bag dangling from her wrist.

“I haven’t seen him.” Irma stood on tiptoe and gazed toward the train. “I’m waiting for my aunt and cousins. They went to tour the train.”