Page 44 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“Holy frog spit!” Eyes bugging wide, Shaylee absently yanked on the lace collar of the pink gingham dress she absolutely hated while Clay Morgan ushered Jake and the family into Buffalo Bill’s personal dining tent. Round as a circus tent and cozy as a cabin, Mr. Cody’s dining area was intimately aglow with candles in sturdy silver candlesticks that graced a long table covered with white linen and china.

“Oh my goodness, this is lovely!” Libby said with a hand to her chest, eyes agog over the intimately elegant surroundings, and she wasn’t alone. No one had expected such luxury inside a tent, but the décor was surprisingly warm and inviting for so transient a structure. From the large and vibrant woven rug beneath the table fringed with leather, to the sconce-like oil lamps attached to each support post around the perimeter, they might have been dining in one of the finest restaurants in San Francisco. Softly illuminated colorful Navajo wall hangings complemented the colors of the rug cushioning the floor while the sweet scent of wildflowers—bright yellow stalks of native flora—were resplendent in a crystal vase on either end of the table.

Clay Morgan offered an ostentatious bow to Jake’s way of thinking, his smile as bright as the blasted oil lamps. “Well, the truth is, Mrs. McShane, that Uncle Bill does a fair amount of entertaining when he takes his show on the road, enjoying the company of esteemed city officials such as yourselves or other celebrities, so he always insists on the finest for his guests.

“Holy snake snot, Mister Morgan, this is gorgeous!” Shaylee said, apparently in agreement with her aunt on the elegant décor, albeit somewhat less dignified. “I ain’t never seen a tent for eatin’ like this before.”

Jake laughed along with the others as Finn pinched the back of Shaylee’s neck with a chuckle. “Haven’t ever seen a tent this big, young lady, not ‘ain’t never.’ And frog spit and snake snot are not holy for the umpteenth time, Shaylee Ann.”

“Nor will there be any frog spit to be found, I promise,” Morgan said with a broad grin, irritating Jake when he extended his arm to usher Sheridan to the table while Finn followed suit with Libby, Aiden with Maeve, Blaze with Maggie, and Dash with Shaylee.

Tired of being the grouch he’d become from the day Sheridan kissed him, Jake managed a grin for Shaylee, determined that no woman—or little girl, as he quickly amended in his mind, refusing to see Sheridan as anything but—would ever control his moods again. He leaned close to Shaylee’s ear as he pulled out her chair. “You keep fidgeting with that dog-gone dress, Doodle, and Mr. Cody will think you have fleas.”

A mischievous grin snuck across her lips. “Not as many as him, I bet, with all the animals he’s rubbin’ against day in and day out.” Her smile went flat as she tugged on that stupid lace collar again. “And ‘dog-gone’ dress is right because it itches like a dog gone crazy with fleas. I hate dresses,” she hissed under her breath, obviously far more partial to the overalls she wore daily than the Sunday best Libby made her wear to church. She scrunched her freckled nose and flipped a long auburn braid over her shoulder, ever the tomboy who resisted wearing curls, even at age fourteen. “They itch and when I’m on my own, ain’t nobody gonna make me wear ‘em ever again.”

Dash sat down beside her with a wink, tugging on her pigtail. “Hate to tell you, Doodlebug, but you’ll have to wear one at your wedding someday.”

“Ha! Ain’t getting’ married, no way, no how,” she said with a firm cross of skinny arms.

Jake chuckled as he placed a linen napkin on his lap. “I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet with baggy overalls, dirt under your nails, and a tarantula for a pet.”

“Boys stink,” she announced, promptly tucking her napkin inside her lacey collar.

Dash bumped her shoulder with his own. “Not as much as you do, Doodle, when you roll around with the animals, especially Penelope.” He leaned close to take a sniff, a grin peeking through. “You did take a bath after wallowing with that new piglet, didn’t you?”

“Her name is Clarabelle, for your information, and of course I did,” Shaylee said with an offended scrunch of her nose, as if she could smell said piglet. Her lower lip jutted out. “Aunt Libby made me.”

“Then thank God for Aunt Libby,” Dash said under his breath as he pinched the back of his sister’s neck, exchanging grins with Jake.

“Good evening, everyone—it’s a real pleasure to have you join us tonight.”

Jake’s gaze shot to the door of the tent to see that the gravelly voice belonged to none other than Buffalo Bill Cody himself, standing alongside Annie Oakley on the arm of her husband, Frank Butler. Jake immediately stood along with Blaze and Dash to make their way to the head of the table where Clay Morgan had seated Finn, Libby, and her parents.

“It’s an honor to be dining with you tonight, Mr. Cody.” Finn rose and pumped Buffalo Bill’s hand with enthusiasm.

“Call me Bill, please,” he said with a thrust of a goatee that was scattered with more silver than his black moustache, which curled up on the ends. Finn’s six-foot-three was at least a half a head taller than the Wild West ringmaster’s, but you’d never know it given the commanding presence of the famous showman who attracted crowds all over the world.

He was dressed as if ready for a show in a scarlet shirt filigreed with silver piping and long fringed leather vest. Thigh-high black leather boots completed his ensemble along with a black Stetson cocked to the side atop shoulder-length black hair streaked with silver.

“Thank you for the invitation, Bill,” Finn said, turning to Annie Oakley with a gracious bow before he shook Frank’s hand. “And a real pleasure to meet both you and Mr. Butler, Miss Oakley. May I introduce you to my wife, Libby, her parents Maeve and Aiden O’Shea, and the rest of our brood.”

Finn made the introductions while Blaze, Dash, and Jake approached to shake the men’s hands, finally slapping Jake on the back last. “And this here is Jake Sullivan, our assistant foreman on the ranch. No blood relation, but I consider him part of the family nonetheless.” He gripped Jake in a fatherly hug, pride gleaming in his eyes. “And, I might add, other than you and your sharpshooters, Bill, the best shot you’ll see around these parts.”

Buffalo Bill’s dark brows lifted. “Well, young man, I believe I’d like to see that talent after supper if you’re game.”

Heat gorged Jake’s face as he took a step back with an awkward grin. “I’m afraid that’s more fiction than fact, sir,” he said, never quite comfortable with praise. “Mr. McShane is a full-blooded Irishman, after all, so I’d definitely factor that in.”

“As is Mr. Sullivan, I assure you, Mr. Cody,” Blaze said with a friendly hook of Jake’s shoulder, “who’s obviously too modest to admit he’s the Nevada State Shootout champ three years running with gold-plated plaques to prove it.”

“That’s right, sir,” Dash said with an elbow to Jake’s side, “including snuffing out flames on candles and knocking corks off of bottles at pert near 40 feet away.”

Annie Oakley stepped forward to shake Jake’s hand, so petite at a mere five foot, she looked more like a little girl with long brown tresses than a mature woman of twenty-six. “Goodness, Mr. Sullivan, I agree with Bill—we’d love to see a demonstration.” She slid Bill a sideways wink before teasing Finn with a smile. “Who knows? Bill might just hire you out from under Mr. McShane.”

“Or propose a challenge at least,” Bill said with a wink of his own at Miss Oakley. “Annie will give you a go, won’t you darlin’?”

“Oh, no …” Shaking his head, Jake backed away with two hands in the air, fire ringing his collar as a hoarse chuckle slipped from his lips. “No, thanks, Mr. Cody. I know Miss Oakley’s reputation all too well and have seen her in action, too, so trust me—I’m smart enough to decline.”

“Wise man,” Frank Butler said, looping an arm to Annie’s waist with a proud flash of teeth. “I met this little filly in Cincinnati in 1875 when I was touring my shooting act. Lost $100 in a bet with this sweet young thing when she was only fifteen years old, besting me after I missed on the 25th shot.” Annie smiled up at him, and he deposited a kiss to her head. “You might say I lost a whole lot of pride, but I won a whole lotta girl, so I’m a very lucky man.”