Unbridled Dreams (32 page)

A
TIME TO EMBRACE
,
AND A TIME TO SHUN EMBRACING
.
Ecclesiastes 3:5
NASB

June 28, 1886
Dear Minnie,

We have fifty acres here on Staten Island. FIFTY! There’s an
amphitheatre that was built especially for us. General Sherman himself
was here for opening day. Mr. Mark Twain has been several times,
and P. T. Barnum—who has foresworn any show but his own for forty
years—came to ours, and had only words of praise.

It seems that some exciting bit of news makes the rounds here every
single day. Bill Cody has hired a famous stage director to plan the
indoor production opening at Madison Square Garden in November.
I hope Liberty Belle is given a part. Monte tells me that cast members
for that production will stay in rooming houses in the city. The Indians,
however, will stay in camp here on Staten Island. Can you picture
the Pawnee and Sioux, in full regalia, riding the Staten Island ferry
every day and then making their way across Manhattan and up to
the Garden for each performance?

Seventeen steamboats a day bring people out to see the Wild
West. I haven’t personally counted them, of course, but that’s what
the newspaper says. I am enclosing clippings from the New York Times
and the Brooklyn Eagle. Please make sure that Momma and Daddy
see them. I forgot to put the clippings in their letter.

Tomorrow Shep and Helen, Monte and Dora and I are determined
to go into the city. We invited Mabel Douglas, but she said
she had other plans. I believe she has given up on Shep and may be
working on Ned Bishop. Sunday Joe has been harping on forgiveness
again, and this past Sunday he particularly stressed the necessity for
the Christian to “bless those who curse them.” Perhaps Mabel and
Ned are God’s way of seeing if I was listening.

In spite of not being universally loved by every single person in
the troupe, at times I am so happy I could cry. Now that we are in a
more permanent setting, I will be able to return to the practice ring
with Diamond. If only Momma could see how the people of New
York welcomed us, I know she would change her mind about what
I am doing. I intend to write and try to get Daddy to bring her to
New York.

Monte seems to be quite fond of a certain beautiful ranchera.
Helen Keen is fast becoming my very good friend, and Shep Sterling
proves in many ways the truth spoken in his gift of white roses. Please
give my love to Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laura.

Ever your affectionate cousin,
Liberty Belle

Belle signed the letter with a flourish, smiling as she contemplated Minnie’s reaction to the coded message about Shep Sterling and white roses. He might not have kissed her again, but it was uncanny how often he seemed to just turn up when Belle crossed the lot. If he was looking out for her, she didn’t mind. And for a girl who’d scolded Minnie for not having a more worthy goal than simply getting married, Belle realized her own daydreams these days skirted dangerously close to similar themes, albeit with barbed wire and horses in place of picket fences and babies. Of course any of that would have to wait until she’d spent several years as Liberty Belle. Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

Folding her letter, Belle tucked it into an envelope and ducked out of her tent. After delivering it to the office for posting, she headed for the wardrobe tent, where she expected Ma Clemmons to put her to work. Halfway there she saw Shep smiling down at a young boy dressed in plaid wool knickers. There was nothing uncommon about an awestruck boy staring in openmouthed wonder at the King of the Cowboys. But there was nothing common about the woman holding the boy’s hand. She was stunningly beautiful, with abundant blond hair, a radiant smile, and the bluest eyes Belle had ever seen.

“Worried?” Mabel Douglas, seated at a sewing machine a few feet away, glanced toward Shep and then back at Belle with a mean little smile.

Belle ignored the comment. “I was looking for Ma. To see what she needs me to do today.”

Mabel smirked. She nodded toward where Shep was still talking to the woman and the boy. “
He
seems to be enjoying himself,” she said.

“Where’s Ma?” Belle repeated.

“Gone into the city. Meeting someone about the winter production.” The last thing Belle wanted to do was sit in this tent all afternoon without Ma—or someone else—to run interference between herself and Mabel Douglas. “Then I’m going over to the stables to longe Diamond. I’m thinking he’s probably sore from all those miles on city streets yesterday. If Ma comes back, could you tell her I’ll come back later and plan to work through tonight’s performance?”

“I’m not your messenger girl,” Mabel said. “And besides, I won’t be here long. Unlike some people,
I’ve
got
two
performances today.”

Belle found paper and a pencil and scribbled a note for Ma Clemmons. She left the dressing tent and picked her way behind some of the other tents so as to avoid seeing Shep—in case he was still talking to that gorgeous woman. Minutes later she was standing beside one of the newly erected corrals where Blaze and a couple of the other broncs had been turned out for exercise. But she couldn’t get her mind off Shep.

“Mabel said you’d be over here,” Shep said, and sidled up next to Belle as she stood by the corral. “I had someone I wanted you to meet.”

“Mabel told you where to find me?” Of course she did. It was Shep asking. Mabel would turn a somersault for Shep.

“Why wouldn’t she? You and Mabel have a falling out?”

“That woman has had a burr under her saddle about me ever since I joined up. Don’t ask me why.”

“Try to be patient with Mabel,” Shep said. “Life hasn’t been very good to her.”

“Is that any reason for her to take it out on me? Believe me, if I knew what I’d done to rile her so, I’d ask forgiveness just to clear the air and hope life could be a little more pleasant for all of us. Problem is, I think it’s the fact that I
breathe
she resents most, and I’m just not willing to stop that to please Mabel.” Belle paused. “Who’d you want me to meet, anyway?”

“Another time,” Shep said. He nodded at Blaze. “She’s looking fit as a fiddle.”

“I wish I had money. I’d buy her like that.” Belle snapped her fingers. “It just kills me to see them using her this way.”

“Cy doesn’t think she has the temperament for the arena.”

“I know,” Belle said, “and I understand his reasoning. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I still say she’d never have thrown that fit if Ned had listened to me and used a lighter hand. I told him to stop sawing on her mouth.” Just then Blaze reared up and pawed the air. Belle sighed. “Can’t you just see her decked out in a show saddle?”

“Diamond’s gonna get his feelings hurt if he hears you talking like that,” Shep teased.

“I love Diamond,” Belle protested. “It’s not his fault that he’s the apple pie while Blaze is the French pastry.” She sighed. “Not that I’ll need a French pastry anytime soon.”

“Liberty Belle has a very bright future,” Shep said. “She just needs to be patient.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but with all due respect, I don’t think you really know that to be a fact.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I sort of keep my eye on you.”

“You have to,” Belle teased. “It’s your job, remember?”

“Now that hurts,” Shep said, and put his hand on his heart and staggered back. “Give a girl roses and kiss her good-bye and she thinks it means nothing.”

“Come on,” Belle said. “I never would have heard from you again if I hadn’t gotten hired.”

“Do you really think that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ll take that for a yes. Although I don’t understand it.”

“Forget it,” Belle said. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just explain your line of reasoning.”

Why had she brought it up? This was embarrassing. “I didn’t hear from you.” She shrugged again. “I mean you kissed me and then—”

“I kissed you and yelled at myself about it all the way to St. Louis,” Shep said. “I was raised better than that. A gentleman shows respect for a lady by following the rules. Sneaking around like that was wrong.”

“Rules?” Belle snorted. “I joined the Wild West to get away from rules.”

“Don’t ever run away from the rules created to protect you. I was wrong to kiss you that day. I knew your mother didn’t approve of me.”

“Well, if you need my momma’s permission, you’re off the hook completely, because even if she were talking to me—which she is not—she’d never give permission for you to so much as take me to dinner.”

Shep grinned. “Ah, but you’re not living under her roof anymore. So I don’t figure I
need
her permission. But I do have every intention of winning her
approval.
”

“You wanted to kiss me, and you did, but it was wrong. And now you don’t need anyone’s permission, but you’re going for Momma’s approval.” Belle shook her head. “This game has too many rules. And they keep changing. I can’t keep up.”

He leaned close. “Allow me to clarify the situation for you, Miss Belle.” He brushed his lips across her cheek and whispered in her ear, “This is no game . . . and I’m not playing.” He walked away.

Belle folded her arms atop the corral fence and hid her face while she waited to catch her breath.

On Sunday after church, Helen and Monte, Dora and Belle and Shep flocked onto the Staten Island Ferry and headed for the city. As the ferry nosed its way into the bay, Helen nudged Shep. “I know you’re dying to do it. So,” she motioned, “let’s hear it.”

When the rest of the group began to badger him, Shep stood up and, taking his hat off, began a speech. “To the northeast, we have the New York and Brooklyn Bridge, spanning one of the busiest stretches of navigable salt water on the earth, first proposed as a way to prevent overcrowding in Manhattan by encouraging population growth in Brooklyn.” He motioned toward the bridge. “The towers rise to the incredible height of 276 feet. Each of its four steel cables is fifteen inches in diameter. The foundations were constructed over a period of three years and an additional four years were required for the completion of the towers. The cost of the bridge? Fifteen
million
dollars—twice the original estimate. Pedestrians may enjoy the view from the walkway for the paltry sum of three pennies.” Putting his hat back atop his head, Shep took a bow. Applause and hoots and catcalls erupted. Shep took a second bow, then settled next to Belle.

At the wharf, he took her hand as he led the way toward the new bridge. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be walking hand-in-hand with him, and yet Belle could feel herself blushing as Shep paid the toll and led her onto the bridge. “You’ll love this story,” he said as they headed out across the water. “The chief engineer’s wife had studied many of the topics related to civil engineering—with the idea that she could help her husband. A few years into the project, her husband was disabled by caisson disease.”